Chapter: 716
King of Swords, Peng Zhou.
The head of the Hebei Peng Clan, a pillar of the faction now referred to as the Four Great Families.
It is said that when he was a dragon and known as the Later Index, he went by the name of Ink Dragon.
After passing the Later Index and working in the Alliance, he operated under the title of Iron Dragon Lord.
He is a martial artist of the Hwa-gyeong level, with abilities at the upper tier of the Hundred Great Masters.
He was fully evaluated for his high combat power during the previous war with Sapa.
Even now, he is regarded as a master who hasn’t fallen behind his prime.
However.
There is a record of him running for the leadership position several times, only to be eliminated each time.
This means.
‘His fighting prowess isn’t bad. His status is decent, and he has political ambitions.’
His personality is somewhat belligerent and aggressive.
‘He’s easy to read…’
He’s a character that can be understood with little effort.
This means that, while he may not stand out as a fighter, his ability as a head of the family is lacking.
‘If we’re being picky, the Sword King would be better.’
Although he has a lower status within the clan, he feels somewhat scheming compared to the Taoist King.
This may seem like an insult at first glance, but it’s something one should possess to some extent if they are to be the head of the family.
‘That simply wasn’t enough for the Taoist King.’
That must have been the problem, causing him to lose his place as the leader of the martial world, leaving both his status and abilities behind.
All is well.
If he were just an average character, it would end there.
Yet.
‘Why did he come to the martial arts festival?’
Questions arise.
The Taoist King has nothing to gain by coming here.
Status? He already has plenty.
Fame? Even if the Taoist King performs well at the martial arts festival, his notoriety won’t increase.
He gains nothing from this festival.
Everyone is certain of this, but they don’t delve into it further.
Why?
‘Because it’s fun.’
The Taoist King shows up at the martial arts competition, demonstrating his martial arts skills.
Just that alone will capture people’s attention.
And among those people.
‘There must certainly be a gathering of merchants entangled with the Alliance.’
I reason.
This only profits the Alliance.
No matter how ignorant the Taoist king may be, wouldn’t he notice?
That seems unlikely.
Then the answer becomes clear.
‘The King of Dao came to the martial arts festival to collaborate with the Alliance.’
A request.
Or perhaps cooperation.
Or even intimidation.
It doesn’t matter what it is.
What’s important is that the Taoist King complied.
He must be seen as a figure from the Martial Alliance.
Whether involuntary or voluntary, it doesn’t matter.
[Peng Zhou from the Hebei Peng Clan versus Xi’an Biyijin.]
“…”
I stroked my chin while glancing at the name written on the board.
‘Hmm.’
How did it come to this?
I tilted my head, examining the board closely.
‘What is the intention here?’
When Shinryong and Wi Seol-ah were matched, the intention was crystal clear.
This time, it’s not so visible. Did they just randomly pair them?
‘Who knows.’
I’m skeptical of that notion.
Rumors about Turong being a disciple of a fallen master have already spread.
Using such an important promotional piece like this…
‘…No.’
Suddenly, a realization dawned on me.
‘That’s precisely why it’ll gain more attention.’
The heir of a fallen master gets pummeled by the Taoist King.
That must be the image they’re hoping for.
I doubt they believe Turong will win.
‘Though, you never know.’
Considering the records of Shinryong and Wi Seol-ah, they might have anticipated it somewhat.
That would be absurd.
‘At best, the later index will defeat a king.’
An unprecedented scenario in history.
No one could have foreseen such an outcome.
‘I don’t suppose I know this old man’s true identity.’
I narrowed my eyes, gazing at the black-haired, handsome figure.
His gentle appearance stood in contrast to his temperament.
He was known in the world as the Later Index, the Fighting Dragon Biyijin.
But within that kind-looking exterior dwelled an aged dog. His nickname was Paejon.
“…Goodness, seems like two of the master’s descendants are gathered here.”
“The Sword of the Moon reached the Hwa-gyeong level. What about the Two-Dragon Sword?”
With all the notable figures congregated, the attention was solely focused here.
Should I do something spectacular? I pondered for a moment.
“So, what can I do for you?”
Paejon directed a query toward me.
“What do you mean?”
Paejon smirked faintly after hearing my response.
His expression was rather terrifying. His lips curved up into a smile, but his eyes remained devoid of warmth.
“It’s about the worm from the Peng Clan.”
“…You can’t mean the Taoist King?”
“Tsk, to call him a king is a bit too generous for that fool.”
The biting critique elicits a chuckle from me.
The head of the Peng Clan was being treated as a mere worm by Paejon.
“That fellow’s father had potential, but the son is utterly lacking.”
“I’m talking about the previous king.”
The prior Taoist King, Peng Tae-woo.
He was the head of the Peng Clan who passed away over ten years ago.
“Right, his sword was heavy. He exhibited that distinctive boldness characteristic of that lineage.”
It felt like I was listening to a legend.
Paejon’s tales of the past were like that.
The era in which he lived was far less peaceful than today’s, still marred by the raging war against Sapa.
“But it’s such a pity they messed up the child-rearing.”
His expression remained disappointingly indifferent as he continued his narration.
“However, that one turned out to be somewhat decent.”
I shifted my gaze at his gesture.
It pointed toward the Taoist King who was attempting to capture attention, alongside a young man.
The lightest touch directed toward Peng Woo-jin.
“Unlike his father, he seems like a fine lad.”
If Paejon affirms that sincerity, then undoubtedly, he is a phenomenal talent, and Peng Woo-jin is no exception.
“Hmm.”
Peng Woo-jin lifted his head, previously bowed, and our eyes met.
It seemed like he sensed my observation.
He maintained eye contact, tucked a smile, and waved his hand in my direction.
“Old Confucius!”
“…”
Oh dear. No need to shout.
I grimaced and low-key nodded back.
In the meantime, the Taoist King cast a glance at Peng Woo-jin. Under that scrutiny, Peng Woo-jin returned an awkward smile.
It felt like he was signaling for silence with his demeanor.
“Ugh.”
Perhaps that sight entertained him. Paejon let out a chuckle.
“He’s a bit of a lost soul, isn’t he?”
“…”
“Yes, for a martial artist to soar, one needs to drop at least one weight. Being weighed down with everything makes it impossible to rise.”
“That’s utter nonsense. Why act all cool while calling me a crazy person?!”
Thump!
“Oof!”
What the freak.
Of all places, it hit my shin.
“The further you go, the more you seem to mutter. I need to whip you into shape…”
“…You think I don’t act up normally?”
You smack me around every day, and then you feign ignorance from time to time.
“That’s why you’re like this.”
“This is just how I was from the start. If hitting me could change me, I would have transformed ages ago.”
“…How impressive you are.”
What’s to be done with such genetics? If changing things were feasible, I wouldn’t be living this way in my previous or current lifetime.
“Anyway. What do you actually want from me?”
“So… what is it?”
What on earth has been the subject of discussion?
Just when I felt a sigh building up in my chest.
“That oaf. Can you send him up?”
“…!”
I froze for a brief moment at Paejon’s words.
His expression unchanging.
A matching pair of black eyes like mine.
I swallowed hard while observing the old master.
‘…A crafty old serpent.’
Seeing the end of my martial arts journey.
Aside from that, he appeared to care little for other matters, yet Paejon seemed acutely aware of many things.
That was the case now as well.
“…I have no issues with that. Do as you wish.”
“Hmm, is that so? Fine, I understand.”
I yawned immediately after hearing his response.
What is this confidence when confronting the so-called Taoist King?
Such words imply that I might stir the outcome of the duel at my discretion.
Could Paejon truly overcome the Taoist King in his current state?
Of course, I didn’t carry such doubts.
This is Paejon (敗尊), after all.
That alone sufficed.
‘…That’s settled then.’
I diverted my gaze back to Paejon, directing it towards Seongyul.
It became impossible to ignore him as he had been fidgeting restlessly.
I swung my hand, delivering a light smack to the back of his head.
Thump-!
“Ugh!?”
Seongyul’s eyes widened at the sudden attack.
“Your Majesty, could you calm down? Why are you acting so absentminded?”
“…”
“If things go awry…”
“…ah.”
Not quite a warning, but rather a caution. Even after hearing that, Seongyul’s demeanor remained unchanged.
‘Hmm.’
Things don’t look good.
Is it because he’s bumping into a disciple from the Kunlun school? Or is it merely due to their meeting?
That’s something I’m not entirely certain of.
‘At least it seems they’re not overly concerned.’
Actually, the Kunlun sect disciples didn’t seem to pay him any mind.
It was odd.
Aren’t we familiar with one another?
‘I looked into it, and indeed, there wasn’t much discussion.’
I occasionally gathered intel regarding Kunlun, but there had been no mention of Seongyul.
In fact, there was no discussion around Cheonsalseong at all.
‘It sure seems like Cheonghae Ilgeom had taken him under his wing.’
Why is there no chatter about Seongyul?
It was a troubling matter.
‘Considering the urgent state of the Kunlun, this is even more strange.’
After the death of Cheonghae Ilgeom, a new leader emerged.
Many circumstances have arisen, and they were currently focusing on stabilizing the sect.
‘That explains why only a few could attend.’
When the Alliance announced a martial arts festival, they expressed intentions to join.
Given the situation, it appeared that the Kunlun disciples could barely muster a dozen attendees.
In other words, it served as evidence that the Kunlun sect is in quite a bit of trouble.
‘What’s going on?’
Everything seems to be falling apart.
If problems persist in the Amipa and Kunlun, it’d genuinely be a disaster.
‘It seems every old leadership division is bursting with issues.’
They’re all in a bad state. In places where there aren’t any issues, especially within the Gupaebang!
‘Just a bit of tremoring, and the situation looks like this?’
How can sects that have held roots for hundreds of years find themselves in such a condition?
The only clans that seem to hold strong are probably Mount Hua and a handful of sects.
‘And yet, amid this crisis, the Murim Alliance organizes a festival.’
This is chaos of the worst kind.
They present a vibrant facade while concealing the rottenness lurking beneath.
You can tell just by scratching the surface.
The handling of affairs is truly astonishing.
‘Oh my.’
I find myself at a loss for words.
I just gave Seongyul’s shoulder a rough pat.
“Oh, just in case you need to hear this.”
“…Yes?”
“Be cautious.”
At the warning, Seongyul’s eyes fell a little.
“…Yes, I’ll do my best to keep my identity concealed.”
“What do you mean?”
Seongyul was about to spout nonsense, but I corrected him.
“I meant watch your strength, idiot.”
“Yes?”
“Think straight and swing! You can’t be swinging it like you did when we were fighting.”
“…?”
“Does that make sense?”
“Yes, yes…. I get it.”
His expression said he understood nothing at all.
Is this going to work out?
“…”
I considered elaborating further, but opted to keep my mouth shut.
Well…. I suppose he’ll figure it out.
I decided to move past that for now.
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