Chapter 122 : Chapter 122
Chapter 122
At the Hero Preparatory School’s Outdoor Training Ground No. 3.
A wind swept across the training ground.
A blade-wind called a sword strike.
SHOOOOM—!
An Hwigom’s sword strike had just grazed past the tip of my chin and vanished.
The gap was so close that calling it “barely” did not do it justice.
“In-Instructor? I almost died just now.”
“And did you die?”
“Did I die? If I had moved my head even a little less, my neck would have been cut off.”
“Hmph. A young man, and you whine like this. If I had truly intended to kill you, your neck would have been severed already.”
“That may be true, but…”
A few days ago, I began proper sword strike training with Brichalcon.
I thought I had finally found “real” training—something that would not endanger my life and would not exhaust my body.
But thanks to my abnormal talent, I mastered sword strikes in only two days.
To put into perspective how absurd that was, even An Hwigom—so rigid in training that no one could match him—actually said I did not need further practice.
Of course, improving at a frightening pace did not mean only good things.
Because of my talent, which did not understand humility, the training environment became more and more extreme.
Which meant…
“Tut, tut. Insolent brat. Put the blindfold back on.”
An extreme environment like having to dodge An Hwigom’s sword strikes with my eyes covered.
“Should you not be running out of mana potions by now?”
“Even if I drain every potion at Hero Prep, I have no intention of ending this training early.”
“Then there are only two options. Either I die, or I survive until three in the morning.”
“You understand well.”
“Haa…”
How was I supposed to endure this insane training?
At least so far, I had not been cut by a sword strike.
But because that old man fired each strike as though he truly meant to kill me, every single one placed me on the edge of death.
If I did not have the senses that came with agility at twenty, I would have departed this world already.
I stalled as much as possible, raising the blindfold toward my face.
Then, at that moment, I sensed someone’s presence near the edge of the training grounds.
An Hwigom seemed to sense it as well. Narrowing his eyes, he stared beyond the bushes.
“Hm?”
The figure hiding in the shrubbery noticed our reaction and quickly retreated away from the training grounds.
Watching our training would not have been a problem…
Still, judging by that swift reaction, he was unquestionably skilled.
He might have been watching us for quite a while.
After all, I had not noticed him approaching at all.
Most likely, he was only exposed because his smartphone vibrated.
Of course, if we had not been focused on sword strikes, we would have noticed him immediately.
“Who was it?”
An Hwigom asked, as though prompting me to use my Demonic Eye.
When I activated it belatedly, the man’s mana appeared with stark clarity.
“Hm… It was Gong Minwu.”
How unusual.
***
A few days later, construction began at Hero Prep.
The work would last twenty days.
In the end, I decided to stay at Yun Jeongseop’s place, packed the bare minimum, and headed to Seoul’s District 5.
Yun Jeongseop’s home was far too large for a man living alone.
When I checked the kitchen, it looked as though no one had maintained the household for a long time, and the dust piled beneath the furniture seemed to have been left untouched for months.
I had expected this sort of atmosphere.
Even so, I was grateful just to have it.
“First, I should clean.”
If I did not want to suffer through that stale bachelor smell while staying here, I would have to fight a serious war.
“No, perhaps buying groceries first is better.”
Yun Jeongseop said he would come by for dinner once, but when had that been again?
As I was lost in such pointless thoughts, the intercom rang.
“…?”
Half-suspicious, I opened the front door.
A familiar face stood there.
“Ah, you are home. Here is today’s mail.”
It was the delivery man who always brought mail and parcels to the dormitories.
Since most Hero Prep cadets likely lived in District 5, he must have delivered everything at once.
I had left this address with the school, noting that I would be staying here.
I carried the mail inside.
It was a package about as thick as a heavy book, but oddly, it had no sender information.
“Is this even allowed to be sent like that?”
Still, the recipient was me.
And the delivery man assigned to Hero Prep had handed it to me directly, so there was no room for doubt.
When I peeled away the wrapping, an antique wooden box appeared.
Roughly the size of a thick specialized textbook.
When I carefully lifted the lid, there was a notice that felt more like a formal missive than a letter, along with a token made of amber.
“Is this, by any chance, that?”
The notice invited me to a martial tournament being held in District 10.
The enclosed amber token was called a tournament token, proof of qualification to participate.
In other words, I was a VIP who could enter the tournament without even applying.
“But this is strange.”
Tournament tokens were, in principle, a privilege granted only to the children of certain clans.
The total number of participants was eighty, and only sixteen possessed tournament tokens.
That meant an advantage: beginning with two rounds as automatic byes.
Why would such a token be sent to me, someone with no ties at all?
Had they learned that I used sword strikes and invited me specially?
“No. District 10 values tradition too much to make that kind of choice.”
In that case, someone was deliberately calling for me.
The blank sender field was proof enough.
“Hm. Interesting.”
I had been planning to visit District 10 anyway.
This was an episode described in the original work.
In the original story, Lee Eunho won by using a fist technique that applied lightning attributes.
It caused an uproar—how could a mage win a martial arts tournament?
“And that was when Gong Minwu took second place and developed an intense rivalry toward Lee Eunho.”
So, who had sent this tournament token?
And what kind of incident was waiting for me this time?
I placed the tournament token into my inventory.
Since I had opened the door and already had my shoes on, I might as well buy groceries.
“…Wait, are the markets in District 5 this expensive?”
Should I just go back to Hero Prep and buy convenience store lunchboxes instead…
I had 1.2 billion won, so why was I acting like this?
Sorry, but the rich are often the worst about money.
***
Among the many distinctive districts of Seoul, if I had to name the strangest, it would be District 10.
Because District 10 was set with a martial arts world as its backdrop.
There were no orthodox tropes like the Beggars’ Sect or the Five Great Houses, but every clan in District 10 consisted of martial artists who revered Sword Saint Kim Yuseong.
Kim Yuseong had lived in District 10 for a time, and in the early days of the Great Rift—before firearms were widely distributed—many hunters gathered there to learn martial arts.
Within that context, the martial tournament was one of Seoul’s largest events, created to honor the Sword Saint’s achievements.
It was held once every four years, and it drew crowds comparable to the Spring Scholastic War.
It was also one of the few sports the Bureau tolerated.
“Because it generates an enormous amount of tax revenue.”
Jostled by tourists, I barely managed to enter District 10.
Just looking at the crowds filling the streets, finding a place to stay for two nights and three days would have been impossible.
Of course, that did not apply to me.
When I showed my tournament token to the guides stationed throughout the streets, they escorted me to the manor of the Gong Clan, the host of this event.
“You will stay here for the next two nights and three days. If you need anything, please let us know at any time.”
The lodging they led me to was splendid, steeped in an Oriental fragrance.
District 10 itself could be described as being wrapped in bamboo, so the atmosphere fit.
“So this manor is Gong Minwu’s family home.”
It was the largest estate in District 10.
An antique property where Gong Seungryong, Gong Minwu’s father, served as the head of the family.
“Since Gong Seungryong is hosting the tournament, I should assume there is a high chance he sent the token.”
In the original story, Lee Eunho entered without a tournament token and still won.
If I was filling his vacancy, I should have begun the same way.
“What are you plotting…”
As I sank into thought, a servant of the Gong Clan knocked politely on my door.
“Lunch has been prepared with the head of the family. All token holders will attend together, so please do not miss it.”
***
There were twenty seats prepared in the dining hall.
The sixteen token holders, including Gong Minwu.
And the head of the family, Gong Seungryong, along with his brothers Gong Seungho and Gong Seungung.
The remaining seat was…
“I apologize for being late. It took a while to inspect my outfit.”
Do Minyeong.
“Please, sit, Direct Descendant. We have not been seated long ourselves.”
At Gong Seungryong’s gesture, Do Minyeong sat beside him.
It was not strange for her to be here.
The tournament was a festival honoring the Sword Saint’s achievements, so it was natural for his descendant to attend.
More striking was that Do Minyeong was dressed more lavishly than usual.
She was so beautiful that anyone could tell she was one of the focal points of this festival.
It was old-fashioned, but if I were to describe it in an Eastern way, she looked like a fairy maiden.
When our eyes met, Do Minyeong’s cheeks reddened for some reason.
Then, from within her flowing sleeve, she fidgeted with something, and a vibration came to my wrist.
-Do Minyeong, Investigation Division: Stop staring.
When I looked at my smartwatch and then back at her, her mouth clearly formed the words, “Lower your eyes.”
“Once again, thank you all for accepting our invitation. I am Gong Seungryong, the host of this martial tournament. For the next two nights and three days, I hope we may finish beautifully, and I invite you to share a toast with us.”
With Gong Seungryong’s toast, everyone lifted their cups, and conversations began across the table.
“I heard the Yeon Clan made a huge gain this time.”
“They say if you reach the final four of the tournament, his father will pass down the Brichalcon he uses?”
Of course, I could not bring myself to say a single word. I only chewed my food.
Do Minyeong was the same, staring fixedly at her plate.
As the atmosphere warmed, Gong Seungho, the second of the Gong Clan, addressed Do Minyeong.
“Still, Direct Descendant, you have returned after so many years and become a full young lady. Ha ha. You should hurry and form a connection with a proper man.”
“I intend to focus on my studies for now.”
“Hm? It sounds as though you have someone in mind at Hero Prep. Ah, come to think of it, you have been studying alongside my nephew Minwu, have you not?”
The table’s attention poured toward Gong Minwu and Do Minyeong.
They met each other’s eyes as well.
But only for a moment, before both looked away with indifferent expressions.
By the setting, the two did not get along.
They had grown up together, but when it was revealed that Do Minyeong was powerless, Gong Minwu drew a line between them.
For someone like Gong Minwu, who competed with nearly twenty relatives to become the heir of the Gong Clan, it was the natural choice.
At the time, Do Minyeong was criticized as though she had committed an unforgivable sin, and she was treated with a cruelty reserved for Demonic Beings.
Gong Minwu probably felt guilty toward her, but he would not regret it.
No matter the circumstances, becoming the clan’s head was his duty.
“Looking at them now, they suit each other quite well.”
Gong Seungho continued, turning to Gong Seungryong.
“What do you think, Brother? Among your male nephews, Minwu is the only one who has not held a wedding yet.”
“Enough with that foolish joke. It does not seem pleasant.”
“…Ah, ha ha.”
Gong Seungho laughed awkwardly, but beneath it, resentment simmered.
An older brother capable enough to bear the clan’s burdens, and a younger brother who always lagged behind.
The one forever caught in the middle was the third brother, Gong Seungung.
As though this were nothing new, he maintained a practiced smile.
Then, when his eyes met mine, he spoke as if relieved to have found a new topic.
“On that note, I have heard that the probationary investigator of the Special Affairs Division has already learned proper form at such a young age.”
“Yes. I had the fortune of meeting a good teacher.”
“As expected, Hero Prep has many outstanding people. My youngest daughter will enroll next year, and I would be grateful if you would look after her.”
“If fate allows it, I will. But she will be in the Investigation Division.”
“Ah, ah… Ahem. In any case, I have asked the others already, but whom do you believe will win this martial tournament?”
An obvious question meant to dispel the silence at the table.
I took a generous swallow of fire liquor and answered.
“Me.”
“…”