Chapter 59
The Fall of Plum Blossom Dragon (2)
Genius.
As we entered the Age of Shooting Stars, these individuals had become relatively easy to find.
The term “heavenly bestowed talent” was quite literal.
They were those who stood significantly above others, excelling in every aspect.
They were the ones who could, with a mere swing of their sword, grasp countless insights.
There has never been a time without geniuses in history.
Just looking at the Three Heavenly Venerables, they were superhumans who dominated their era.
Moreover, the Seven Iron and Three Fists, known as the ten greatest masters of the central plains, certainly qualified as geniuses as well.
Talent, try as one might to conceal it, always manages to show itself.
Even if they don’t wish to be acknowledged, a single gesture, a single step, sets them apart from the rest, and the world recognizes them without fail.
This holds true regardless of how much time passes.
Then there were the Five Dragons and Three Phoenixes.
These young prodigies hailed as the stars of this generation were ultimately recognized as geniuses.
Born into this world, they were flawless in their rarity.
That isn’t to say they didn’t put in the effort.
It just meant that their efforts reaped disproportionately greater rewards compared to others’.
This was evident right in front of me with the Sword Dragon, a prime example of genius traits.
He was the youngest Plum Blossom Swordsman and the greatest prodigy of the Mount Hua Sect. Just how much weight did those two titles carry?
Only those who were born with extreme talent and who had reached a certain level could call themselves Plum Blossom Swordsman.
To contain the plum blossom Qi in one’s dantian and to let it bloom at the tip of one’s sword—this was what it meant.
It was the understanding of the essence of the martial arts of Mount Hua.
And here stood Yung Pung, who hadn’t even turned twenty yet—he was already at that point, showcasing how monstrous his natural ability was.
However, that very Yung Pung—
Pow!
Was being outmatched by a boy much younger than himself.
“Ughhhh!”
Shinhyun could hardly believe his eyes.
The heat radiating from the boy was suffocating. He watched, awestruck, as Yung Pung’s plum blossoms were consumed and incinerated by the blazing inferno the boy commanded.
This wasn’t simply about how to employ his energy efficiently or how to maneuver his body properly.
No, it was an overwhelming disparity in raw power.
…How could this little kid be so strong?
Gu Yangcheon of the Gu clan.
He was still a nameless boy with no titles to showcase his prowess.
Shinhyun was aware of the Gu clan.
It was the clan of the renowned martial master, the Tiger Warrior, home to the Sword Phoenix, who was hailed as the greatest prodigy of this generation, and also the clan of his martial sister.
So, Shinhyun expected nothing less from the boy, considering he bore the same bloodline as those legends.
He could have very well been a disappointment to his father, but Shinhyun had never viewed Gu Yangcheon that way.
…But still, to be this strong is completely unexpected.
Flame arts, they were inherently difficult to control.
It was a raw martial skill so destructive that the user often found it hard to withstand its explosive energy.
Due to the inherent wildness of the Qi, using it placed a significant burden on the user’s body.
While it was distinctively more destructive compared to other forms because of its volatility, mastering it and reaching higher levels of power would risk the user’s own physical integrity.
Yet, what about this boy?
Cold sweat trickled down Shinhyun’s chin.
It was astonishing enough that he could emit such potent Qi that it overwhelmed the surroundings, but considering he was simultaneously able to wield such destructive arts without inflicting any collateral damage?
It merely meant that he possessed perfect control of his flames.
Yung Pung was attempting to escape the engulfing fire, but Gu Yangcheon provided no space for him to evade.
One vital factor in a martial artist’s duel is the distance between the fighters.
This was particularly pertinent between a swordsman like Yung Pung and a pugilist like Gu Yangcheon.
To close the distance required one to encroach on it significantly.
To widen it, one had to do so rigorously.
Gu Yangcheon did not give Yung Pung an inch.
He was perfectly aware of how to face off against a swordsman.
Yung Pung clenched his teeth, channeling his Qi down into his feet, and charged ahead despite the urgency.
Previously retreating from Gu Yangcheon’s onslaught, he now surged toward him.
Even in that tense moment, Yung Pung’s sword movements retained an air of elegance.
His techniques were heavy and deliberate while simultaneously fast and fluid.
To execute the complexities of Mount Hua’s swordsmanship, one needed years of practice.
Yet Yung Pung showcased those movements as if he’d mastered them shortly after witnessing them for the first time.
That day marked when everyone unanimously acknowledged him as the Mount Hua Sect’s greatest prodigy.
The tip of his sword was light and sharp, and with every advance he made, the manifestation of plum flowers appeared in his wake.
The Plum Blossom Realm.
This marked a significant threshold for Mount Hua’s martial artists, a sign of reaching the level essential to becoming a Plum Blossom Swordsman, a true mark of a martial artist belonging to the Mount Hua Sect.
Shinhyun nodded with understanding at the sight of the plum flower marks.
He seemed to be at a disadvantage against Gu Yangcheon’s flames, but Yung Pung had found his rhythm and was embarking on a counterattack.
The blossoms emerged gracefully from his sword strikes, pushing back against the chaotic flames that had once consumed him.
The Mount Hua sword techniques were being demonstrated beautifully through Yung Pung’s skill.
His movements were simple yet stunning, the energy his sword contained was sharp, and flowers of plum burst forth following the attacks.
As expected… To triumph over the Sword Dragon is—
“Uoughh!!!”
Huh…?!
Shinhyun’s eyes widened.
It was at the scream escaping Yung Pung’s lips that drew his attention.
Suddenly, he spotted Gu Yangcheon’s fist darting into Yung Pung’s ribs.
Shinhyun focused more Qi into his eyes, attempting to gain clarity over the chaotic flames, but the inferno obstructed his view, making it challenging to catch the scene.
This illustrated that Shinhyun, being a second-generation disciple of Mount Hua, could not clearly perceive the flames produced by a mere child.
…How dense must his Qi be to yield such a powerful effect?
Initially, Shinhyun believed the flames were quelled by Yung Pung’s blossomed plum flowers, but quickly recognized his assumption was misguided.
The flames were not being suppressed by the ever-blooming blossoms; they were deliberately contained.
While the flames certainly covered a smaller area, their destructive intensity had markedly increased.
The blossoms began to flicker and fade.
Unexpectedly, something shot out from the fiery dome.
It was Yung Pung’s wooden sword.
Pow!
“Ugh!”
In a blink, Yung Pung himself was launched from the flames, the sound of an explosion echoing as he emerged.
After bouncing along the ground several times, he lay groaning, struggling to lift his body.
Woosh!
The fiery perimeter gradually dwindled, eventually encircling Gu Yangcheon as he stood revealed.
Steam rose dramatically from his body, a result of the prolonged exposure to extreme heat.
The flowers that were just about to bloom around him fell prey to the flames that devoured them mercilessly.
Even the roots of life couldn’t withstand the relentless fire.
Yung Pung’s plum blossoms shriveled without ever having the chance to fully bloom, turned to ash before he could even face Gu Yangcheon.
As he looked up at the flaming figure of Gu Yangcheon, his eyes conveyed a mixture of emotions—shock, bewilderment, and disbelief.
“Tsk.”
The sound of a tongue clicking broke the heavy silence.
Yung Pung, eyeing Gu Yangcheon with trembling eyes, could no longer bear the sight and looked away.
Shinhyun, not understanding the reason for Yung Pung’s withdrawn demeanor, turned his gaze toward Gu Yangcheon, realizing what lay behind it.
Gu Yangcheon’s eyes, as they looked down at Yung Pung, brimmed with unmistakable disappointment, an emotion evident enough for anyone to see.
*
When counting the numerous advantages and benefits that a talented individual possesses, there are simply countless.
Yet their weaknesses are just as palpable.
Despite their gifts, if they lack further substance, they inevitably hit a wall that leads to their downfall at some point in their lives.
They’ve scaled their previous walls effortlessly, so when they finally encounter a real barrier they can’t easily bypass, they tend to simply give up.
Yung Pung is a genius—there is no disputing that.
I, having witnessed his capabilities in my previous life, understood this even more vividly.
However, he ultimately failed to breach that wall.
In terms of raw talent, he stood shoulder to shoulder with Gu Huibi, or perhaps even surpassed her.
Even now, in this life, that remains true.
Not everyone can claim the title of Plum Blossom Swordsman. It requires arduous training and insights to attain that status.
It signifies being a first-rate warrior at the very least.
To achieve such a level before even reaching twenty is no small feat.
So it made sense that he harbored confidence.
“You’ve got a real funny way of presenting yourself.”
As an exception, I flourished thanks to miracles like this very regression.
Of course, not a soul around, including Elder Shin, was aware of that.
Geniuses are inherently arrogant.
It’s a natural consequence of their abilities.
Gu Jeolyub, Namgung Cheonjun, and even Gu Huibi—all were fundamentally different from average folks, excelled beyond them in various aspects, and that sense of superiority often inflated their pride.
But this very pride also served as a potential poison.
Yung Pung wasn’t a bad person.
He had manners and a degree of common sense—traits often lacking among so-called geniuses.
Though young, he got swept up in emotions; perhaps growing older would temper that.
But even Yung Pung possessed arrogance due to his talents.
And inevitably, he would encounter a wall he couldn’t surpass… leading him to ultimately surrender.
This was a story I had lived in my last life.
“What are you doing?”
His shoulder flinched at my assertive question.
“Why haven’t you picked up your sword again?”
I pointed to the wooden sword that lay dejected on the ground.
It appeared he had unleashed plum blossoms while wielding it, yet it blossomed hollowly, lacking substance.
This clearly indicated he hadn’t trained for long.
“…What a monster.”
That was likely his most significant misstep.
“Come on, why do you believe it’s reasonable to strike through that chaotic sword path?”
It would indeed be a challenge—if terror mixed with anxiety in the heart, clarity on the outcome was elusive.
This was more an issue of experience than talent.
Experience gained only through ruthlessly carving one’s way through a battlefield filled with wild and unrelenting attacks.
I began to approach Yung Pung slowly.
The skepticism in his eyes screamed disbelief that he could lose.
Why did every genius express that same stunned look after facing defeat?
“You challenged me to a duel and I held anticipations. What a letdown, Master Yung Pung.”
…High expectations indeed.
Contempt churned in my stomach at the sheer absurdity of my own words.
A straightforward way to humble one’s arrogance is quite simple.
If they cannot see past their blind spots, it merely takes someone else to shatter that illusion.
Upon realizing there existed others superior to their talents, the lesson would inevitably strike home.
Of course, in this process, they may descend into despair, decide to remain stagnant in that sorrow, ignore it, or grit their teeth and rise once more.
Ideally, I wished for Namgung Bi-ah to step in on this occasion.
But alas, she blew up and sulked…
“Technically, you needn’t fight him yourself.”
Why bring this up now, when you were so eager for me to step in?
“It was you who volunteered from feelings of guilt towards Mount Hua. I’m curious as to the reason behind it.”
“Didn’t we decide not to inquire about that?”
“…What a rotten fool you are.”
Namgung Cheonjun flaunted his superiority relentlessly.
But Yung Pung was distinctly different.
Despite his upbringing among geniuses in Mount Hua, he remained refreshingly unspoiled.
As he struggled to rise, Yung Pung picked up the wooden sword beside him.
With faltering steps, he finally steadied himself.
It was a gesture of submission.
“I’ve lost…”
In contrast to others, he didn’t craft excuses but simply articulated his defeat with a weary voice.
This boy truly carried a refreshing sense of honesty.
I pondered whether to speak further, yet sensing his lingering pain, I reciprocated his gesture and turned away.
This sufficed.
“Maybe due to how you appear, it suits you.”
You realize that’s an insult, right, Elder Shin?
“Of course it is, you little brat. Did you take that as a compliment?”
…
I had no clue how Yung Pung would process this, but I felt surprisingly revitalized after this duel.
They could manage the aftermath; my intention was to sleep… or so I thought.
Suddenly, Namgung Bi-ah barricaded my path and narrowed her gaze, fixing her eyes on me for a moment before speaking.
“Now it’s my turn.”
…What is this about, you lunatic?
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