Chapter 31
Chapter 31
Before anyone knew it, the Dragon–Phoenix Gathering had progressed to the Round of Sixteen.
“Today’s matches will conclude here.”
With the Referee’s declaration, the crowd began to buzz noisily as people started leaving the spectator stands one by one.
“I’m looking forward to the ‘real’ main tournament starting tomorrow.”
“It’s been impressive so far, but now we’ll finally get to see the true skills of the real contenders.”
“The championship will go to the Namgung Clan, as expected, right?”
“It doesn’t look so certain. To be honest, in this Dragon–Phoenix Gathering, it wouldn’t be strange no matter whether the Orthodox, the Unorthodox, or even the Demonic side wins.”
“Indeed….”
The people chatted among themselves as they walked toward their lodgings.
Just as Youngho’s group was about to rise to return to the annex they had reserved at the inn—
A man dressed in blue martial robes called out to Youngho in a dry voice.
“Is Youngho here? The Murim Alliance Leader is summoning you.”
At the mention that the Murim Alliance Leader had called for him, the others looked at Youngho in surprise. But as if he had already anticipated this situation to some extent, he merely nodded.
“Lead the way. Sopyung, go on ahead.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Youngho followed the man who had come to escort him.
“May I ask the reason the Murim Alliance Leader has summoned me?”
“Perhaps he has taken an interest in you?”
“Interest….”
He had not even shown everything yet.
Rumors had recently begun spreading that Youngho had reached the realm of a Transcendent Peak Master, but the information was still uncertain.
‘He’s not the type to move over something like that alone. Is Master with him?’
Though various questions arose in his mind, Youngho simply followed the man before him.
After walking for some time, a sharp presence brushed against Youngho’s Qi Sense.
“This is the place.”
“You will not be inspecting my belongings?”
“There is no need. It is not that we are disregarding you—you will understand once you enter.”
“Thank you for guiding me.”
After offering a light bow of courtesy, Youngho knocked on the door.
“Enter.”
At the familiar voice from inside the room, Youngho let out a faint chuckle and opened the door.
Inside, Han Yonghu and Cheonung were seated, each in their place, staring intently at Youngho.
“I greet the Murim Alliance Leader.”
As Youngho cupped his fist in salute toward Han Yonghu, the latter burst into hearty laughter.
“You are completely different from Cheonung here. Still, you don’t seem like a black-hearted brat, so that’s reassuring. And….”
Han Yonghu concentrated his Internal Energy into his eyes and examined Youngho, yet even so, he could not clearly perceive Youngho’s aura. His brows furrowed of their own accord.
“As expected, you are quite something. I cannot see everything.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes, the reason I called you is simply because I wished to meet you once.”
“I see. What are your impressions?”
At those words, Han Yonghu blinked, then soon burst into loud laughter.
“Ha ha ha! How amusing! It seems you are not entirely different from Cheonung after all.”
“Enough with the trivial chatter.”
“I have far too many things I am curious about regarding your disciple.”
Han Yonghu looked straight into Youngho’s eyes.
“Impressions… You are endlessly domineering.”
“…….”
“But just as much, you are merciful. I truly cannot understand how someone like you could come to be.”
“It is thanks to my Master.”
“Cheonung, you have taken in quite the disciple. I know your temperament well, and you had no hand whatsoever in shaping Youngho’s personality.”
“Think whatever you wish.”
Watching the two converse so familiarly, Youngho thought to himself.
‘They must be quite close.’
Thinking about it, it made sense. Though he was of the Unorthodox Faction, he had expanded his influence to such an extent without ever starting a war.
‘If it were me, I would have been curious enough to meet him in person as well.’
And he must have realized it—that Cheonung was not someone suited for war.
“You handled Unjeong rather harshly, didn’t you?”
“I merely relieved him of his worries.”
“It seems to me you gave him more worries instead.”
“He would have had to face those worries eventually. I merely brought that day forward.”
“Was there truly a need to do so?”
“It was so that when he did face them, he would head in the right direction.”
“Unjeong is older than you, and yet you speak as though you already know the direction yourself.”
“I have memorized the path.”
Strange. Not a single answer befitted a child who had not even reached his coming-of-age.
It felt somewhat different from simply being a mature child. Han Yonghu could not hide his puzzlement as he looked at Youngho.
“Judging by your personality, it does not seem you are seeking revenge because your Senior Brother lost to Unjeong… It seems something truly happened to him.”
“…….”
At those words, Youngho maintained his silence.
“In truth, there is something I would like to ask of you.”
“What is it?”
“In effect, I believe you will win the championship. And overwhelmingly so.”
“Yes, that is likely.”
Though such words would sound arrogant coming from a mere junior disciple, Han Yonghu did not mind.
“In the semifinals, you will face Namgung Cheon.”
“Yes.”
“Could you deliberately lose then? I will give you something far greater than the championship prize.”
“Very well.”
“…?”
“What is the matter?”
“No, it is just that you accepted far too easily.”
To a martial artist, defeat was a stain upon one’s honor. And to a martial artist, honor was worth more than life itself.
Han Yonghu had been exceedingly cautious, careful not to show it, in case Youngho’s pride might be wounded.
No matter that Youngho was a junior disciple—his Martial Might had already far surpassed that level.
To ask such a man not to win the Dragon–Phoenix Gathering could very well seem bewildering or even laughable from Youngho’s perspective.
“Are you truly certain?”
“However, if you do not give me something greater than the championship prize, I will expose this matter.”
“What?”
Even Cheonung, renowned throughout the world, could not help but be flustered at those words.
It was obvious that by taking part in match-fixing, his own honor would be tarnished—yet Youngho warned Han Yonghu without the slightest hesitation.
If the promise was not kept, he would reveal this matter to the entire world without caring in the least about his own reputation.
Of course, if that were to happen, the Murim Alliance would be in far greater trouble than Youngho. The honor of an individual and the honor of an organization were on entirely different levels.
Even so…
“Do you not possess a martial artist’s pride?”
“Does pride put food on the table? Does it save lives? Does it prevent war? If even one of those three is true, then I will gladly demonstrate this so-called pride of a martial artist.”
It was utterly absurd. Even Cheonung, Youngho’s own master, looked dumbfounded.
“And I think I more or less understand the circumstances.”
Reading the strange undertone in Youngho’s response, Han Yonghu asked him,
“Did you anticipate this?”
“More or less. Though it is said to be jointly hosted by the Orthodox, the Unorthodox, and the Demonic factions, this is ultimately a tournament led by the Murim Alliance. If an Unorthodox member and a Demonic Cult member fight in the finals, I’m sure the public would be absolutely thrilled.”
‘What a frightening child. He has already calculated even that….’
Youngho’s words carried many implications. The Dragon–Phoenix Gathering was a tournament led by the Murim Alliance. Until now, there had never been a time when a junior disciple of the Orthodox Sect failed to reach the finals.
But this time was different. From the Demonic Cult had come the Young Cult Leader, who was wreaking havoc, and from the Unorthodox Faction had emerged a genius said to appear once in a thousand years.
Of course, the Orthodox Sect also had several outstanding junior disciples this time. Among them, Namgung Cheon was strong enough to contend with the Demonic Cult’s Young Cult Leader, Cheon Muback.
Demonic Arts were dangerous, but they allowed one to grow strong quickly.
In contrast, Orthodox Arts had the nature of late blooming. Weak in the beginning, but growing ever stronger as time passed.
Thus, in the Dragon–Phoenix Gathering—where junior disciples primarily competed—those who had learned Demonic Arts or Unorthodox Arts generally held the advantage.
Namgung Cheon and Cheon Muback.
Both were so outstanding that even Han Yonghu could not suppress his astonishment.
If they were to clash in the finals, it was impossible to easily predict who would win.
Though, compared to the junior disciple standing before him, they were lacking by a considerable margin.
“By the way, are you certain Namgung Cheon can defeat Cheon Muback?”
“I am not certain. To be precise, it would be good if he wins—but it would also be fine if he loses.”
That was understandable. Even common people with no knowledge of martial arts were aware that Demonic Arts brought rapid initial growth compared to Orthodox Arts.
“So it will be enough if they simply appear evenly matched.”
“Correct.”
Though he spoke lightly, Han Yonghu felt deeply grateful that Youngho had accepted his proposal.
Cheonung had said it would likely be fine—that even if the request was insulting to a martial artist, Youngho would brush it off lightly.
But such words had not reached Han Yonghu’s ears at all. A martial artist’s pride was that important.
If Youngho had rejected his proposal and walked out, he would have moved more thoroughly to orchestrate match-fixing.
This, too, was a form of match-fixing—but if the Murim Alliance truly resorted to schemes, it could create a far dirtier situation.
Why would the Murim Alliance—the very pillar of the Orthodox Sect—commit match-fixing?
‘Why did I ever take on the position of Alliance Leader….’
If an Orthodox junior disciple failed even to reach the finals and instead lost entirely—and overwhelmingly—to members of the Demonic Cult and the Unorthodox Faction, what would the common people think?
They would perceive the future Murim Alliance—no, the Orthodox Sect itself—as weak. And the wolfish Unorthodox factions would grow arrogant and run rampant.
It was terrifying to imagine. Even now, they already felt as though they were crawling before the Heavenly Demon. If they had to crawl any lower, their skin would be flayed raw.
Even at present, the Murim Alliance was regarded as inferior compared to the Demonic Cult and the Unorthodox Alliance. If that perception extended into the future as well…
If that were to happen, not only the Orthodox martial artists but even ordinary commoners would begin to worry about the future.
The Murim Alliance was a sturdy fence. Until now, it had possessed such overwhelming Martial Might that no one even imagined that fence could break—but that was no longer the case.
Recently, sects of the Unorthodox Alliance had even been deliberately provoking members of the Orthodox Sect.
The atmosphere among the Orthodox martial artists was already ominous, as if preparing for war—while the Unorthodox side seemed rather at ease.
Though it was, in some ways, only natural, Han Yonghu chose to express his gratitude to Youngho first rather than dwell on such matters.
“Thank you.”
“It is nothing. Just be generous with the compensation.”
“Do not worry. I will give you a Grand Reversion Pill and garments woven from Heavenly Silkworm Thread.”
“…That is more generous than I expected.”
“It may be excessive for a junior disciple, but have you not already surpassed that realm? You seem capable of contending evenly with a Unit Leader of our Demon-Slaying Corps.”
“I am still lacking.”
Youngho found it easier to speak under Han Yonghu’s amicable tone.
“However, have you considered how to persuade Namgung Cheon?”
One might deceive the eyes of others, but the person engaged in the sparring match would know—whether the opponent had deliberately lost, and whether they were pretending to be weaker than they truly were.
At least someone of Namgung Cheon’s caliber would sense it.
“…….”
Seeing Han Yonghu quietly avert his gaze without answering, Youngho asked cautiously, almost fearing the answer.
“Surely you have not only failed to inform him in advance but also neglected to consider any method of persuading him?”
At that moment, Youngho saw a bead of sweat trickling down Han Yonghu’s temple.
“Th-then… how much would it take?”
“I have the Gold-Blood Hall.”
“…….”
“Later, please grant me one favor within reasonable bounds.”
“A favor?”
“Yes.”
“…Very well.”
Youngho saw it clearly—Cheonung was looking at Han Yonghu with an expression that plainly said he found him utterly pathetic.