Chapter 33 Duel of The Phoenix (2) - Martial Arts Masochist

Mu Wol Satae observed Cheongwol and Dang Solan, who stood on the martial arts stage. To her, it was an extraordinary scene—a stage where two beautiful women prepared for a duel. Both their skills and appearances were breathtaking, and had this unfolded in a larger city, the audience would have been massive. However, Mu Wol Satae's heart was conflicted as she watched. Proud as she was that the once young girl was now thrilling the people of the Central Plains, she recalled the struggles Cheongwol endured along the way. She could not forget the tragic scene she had witnessed at Mt. Emei. It was at that moment that she caught a glimpse of the profound internal chaos stirring within Cheongwol. Moreover, just a few days before, Cheongwol had mentioned she didn't want to participate in the duel. Her mind was restless, still unsure if the choices made were the right ones. Mu Wol Satae only hoped that Cheongwol would learn and grow from the duel with Dokbong. She could not simply ignore Cheongwol's internal strife, for leaving her to resolve it alone could result in further harm. Ultimately, everything was speculative and there was no clear right or wrong which made it even harder. She sighed with worry—a sigh that was noticed by Tang Jeokcheon, the master of Sichuan's Tang clan, also known as Dok Wang. "Your face is full of worry," he observed. Mu Wol Satae offered a gentle smile, prompting Tang Jeokcheon to continue. "Do not worry too much; I've only given Solan the suitable toxins for the duel," he assured. "That's not it, Master," she replied, to which he simply asked, "Then?" Mu Wol Satae took one look at Tang Jeokcheon. Their connection spanned many years, with frequent exchanges due to their geographic proximity. Both had made their names known in the martial world from a young age. Although when Mu Wol Satae first met Tang Jeokcheon she was in her early twenties and he was a child, many years had passed since then. Tang Jeokcheon was one of the few she could truly call a friend. It was to this old friend that she posed a question. Meanwhile, Solan was nearby, acting as the figurative barrier for their conversation. "I heard rumors that Solan is suffering from internal turmoil," Mu Wol Satae remarked. Tang Jeokcheon blinked, glancing at his daughter, momentarily disoriented by the sudden change of topic. Yet, he too leaned closer to Mu Wol Satae, lowering his voice. The smile vanished from his face, revealing the sharp-eyed martial master seated before her. "Whether it's those Hao Mun folks, the Beggars' Sect, or perhaps someone within our own clan...the rumors certainly spread far." "Would you mind if I inquired what led you to believe she's troubled internally?" Mu Wol Satae asked. "Hmm." Tang Jeokcheon shifted his gaze to watch Dang Solan as she smiled and waved energetically. "The child seems devoid of energy," he admitted after a brief pause. Mu Wol Satae sensed something much more severe than what his words implied. Tang Jeokcheon's eyes captured Solan as she actively greeted the crowd. "Though she appears well now, it's been such a long time since I've seen her this way," he continued. "The clan is hesitant to take any action. Be it training, meditation, a walk...she doesn't partake in meals and stays in her room," Tang Jeokcheon lamented. "Really?" "Only when my youngest...Ah, do you remember? I had a late child. He's four now," he said. "Of course I know. Wasn't his name Tang Yeop?" Tang Jeokcheon had five children: two daughters and three sons. "Yes. It's only when Yeop is nearby that she seems a little more lively. Around me, Jiwoon, or her other siblings, she won't utter a word. Don't misunderstand me. Despite my looks, I've done everything for my daughter without lacking anything," he explained. "I don't misunderstand. Everyone in the martial world knows how the Master adores his daughter." "Anyway, sometimes if I pause outside her door, I can hear her sobbing..." "The child cries?" "Yes. She always tried to act mature as the eldest for the younger siblings…," Tang Jeokcheon remarked with an awkward expression. "For quite some time. If I go in to comfort her, she brushes it off as if she's all right...I don't know what to do. It's been a year since it started. Perhaps since after the Yongbong meeting. I was relieved when she agreed to come to Mt. Emei, maybe thanks to Lady Cheongwol." Mu Wol Satae, like Tang Jeokcheon had his daughter in his gaze, had Cheongwol in hers. "…Our Wol is also suffering from internal turmoil." Tang Jeokcheon's eyes widened in surprise. "What?" "A violent kind. I witnessed it personally," she confessed. Tang Jeokcheon hesitated, then whispered, "Do you mean the twenty corpses discovered in Nanryung Valley on Mt. Emei…" "You knew?" "The Hao Mun, the Beggars' Sect, they all know. Since it's so close to Mt. Emei, they took keen interest." Mu Wol Satae sighed deeply, feeling the weight of rumors unknowingly spreading. Trying to ease the tension, Tang Jeokcheon introduced his characteristic lighthearted banter, "Could the Headmaster not have taken care of it immediately upon discovery?" Mu Wol Satae responded to Tang Jeokcheon's attempt with a soft smile. "The scene was too horrendous to simply clean up." "Hmm," Tang Jeokcheon murmured, unable to joke further. "No solution makes it all the more difficult. External wounds might be easier. Internal strife is impossible to treat…If there was a doctor, I'd pay anything to ask for help for our Solan." Mu Wol Satae allowed herself a fleeting chuckle. "Would the Dok Wang really beg for help?" "What wouldn't I do for my daughter? Don't you feel the same way, Satae?" Reflecting on that sentiment, Mu Wol Satae nodded solemnly. "Of course." Indeed, what wouldn't she do for Cheongwol? While she couldn't express this sentiment to other disciples of the Emei Sect, Cheongwol was extraordinarily special to Mu Wol Satae. Not because of Cheongwol's exceptional skills or her potential to elevate the Emei Sect's status—it was simply because, from their initial meeting to the present, Mu Wol Satae cherished her as dearly as one would a daughter. "...Both of them will overcome this," Dok Wang said with finality. Mu Wol Satae nodded, hoping his words would ring true. "Indeed." At that moment, Cheongwol inhaled deeply and turned to look at Mu Wol Satae. '...?' The look on Cheongwol's face surprised Mu Wol Satae. Her expression was firm, devoid of hesitation—a stark contrast to their conversation from a few days earlier. With unwavering determination, Cheongwol clasped her fists and declared, "I'm ready." Tang Jeokcheon tilted his head in confusion. "It's hard to believe she's struggling with internal turmoil looking at her now." No, that wasn't it. Mu Wol Satae could sense it. Changes were occurring in Cheongwol, much like when her path of the sword had improved before. She felt slightly embarrassed for having lamented so openly to Dok Wang. **** As So Woon announced the start of the duel and stepped back, the ceremonial fist exchange began. Cheongwol was first. Her movements were graceful and composed, drawing gasps of admiration from the onlookers. Even as someone who knew nothing about martial arts, I could sense something remarkable. "That's truly Miss Cheongwol for you," mumbled Gwak Du Ajusshi beside me. "She's called the hope of the Emei Sect for a reason," he marveled, seemingly finding points of emotion even in the ceremonial gestures, likely as someone immersed in martial arts himself. Out of caution, I asked, "What is that sword style?" "Hmm? Why, that's the Soyang Swordsmanship," he replied. Right? Not the Myeoljul Sword, is it? Next was Dang Solan. Her ceremonial gestures also drew gasps from the crowd. Watching my first live duel was a strange experience—more awe at such a beautiful woman also being skilled with hidden weapons and poisons than anything else. "By the way, Seo Jin. I thought you disliked these kinds of spectacles, yet here you are," an ajusshi commented. "Just a change of heart," I replied. I may dislike it, but I need to understand my future, don't I? "Once you're hooked from today, you'll find it hard to stop. Without such excitement, how dull would life be?" Guyeong Ajusshi chimed in. "Just let him be, brother. Seo Jin likes his basement more. The boy is a man's man," Gwak Du Ajusshi added. Why bring up masculinity now? "What?" I questioned. "Nothing, kid. By the way, it doesn't seem like Miss Solan is struggling with internal turmoil at all…" "The Sichuan Branch confirmed it, we should believe them." "I trust my own eyes. How could such an energetic lady, who was so kind to everyone yesterday, possibly be faltering?" "Quiet. It's starting." Just then, Cheongwol looked our way. "She looked this way!" People around practically transformed into fangirls, reveling in Cheongwol's gaze. Meanwhile, I became even more anxious. Even if things crumble, please let it be manageable. Dang Solan spoke, her voice echoing across the now-silent stage. "Let me take the first move—" "-Sure." Boom! With a deafening sound, Cheongwol's figure vanished in an instant. Caught off guard, Dang Solan stopped mid-sentence and assumed a defensive stance. Her form, too, disappeared from my sight. Though I had witnessed Cheongwol's slaughter at Mt. Emei, most of it had been spent hiding with my eyes and ears shut in the dark forest. Seeing it up close for the first time felt shocking. It was only now I realized a person could move so swiftly they could seemingly disappear. Their figures flickered in and out of view intermittently. The ajusshis beside me, still able to perceive something, kept uttering exclamations of awe: "Oh!", "Wow!", "Incredible!" All I could discern was snatches of their conversation: "-cowardly! I'm speaking---is it open!" "It's not cowardly—applying for a duel to—win is playing---is serious-" Even that was hard to make out amidst the exclamations, clanging noises, and gusts of wind that fragmented their voices. "Seo Jin, how do you find it? Entertaining, isn't it?" Gwak Du Ajusshi excitedly shook me, an unusual sight. "Yes." Though I couldn't see much, how could it be entertaining? This reaffirmed my choice not to become a martial artist was the best decision I ever made. **** By now, who knew how many moves had been exchanged. As the duel continued, the crowd grew ever more silent, ensnared by the fervor radiated from the contenders. Even Cheongwol couldn't believe herself. That she was driving herself this fiercely—she hadn't even understood the reason behind needing this duel, yet she poured her all into it. Her approach to the duel was to think she'd lose if she got hit. She consistently enshrouded herself in explosive energy. Except for intent to kill, the longer the duel went on, the more ferocious it became. Poisoned needles whisked narrowly past her. Each needle bore a distinct hue, each hinting ominously at different fatal fates. Yet, she couldn't evade them all. One hit her shoulder, another grazed her thigh. A tingling sensation spread through her nerves, and she focused on controlling her energy to prevent the poison's spread. It felt frustrating—not the toxic air, but the sword itself. With every grip of the sword, the Soyang Swordsmanship, which counters and responds gracefully to the opponent’s attacks, felt like a suit that didn't fit her properly. She knew Soyang Swordsmanship wasn't hers. Despite her prolonged practice, she'd only reached the fifth level. Though people still praised her for it, the frustration remained. Contrastingly, the Myeoljul Swordsmanship was exceptionally suited to her, emphasizing dominion, brutality, and meant solely for killing. Secretly practicing it, she had already reached the sixth level, further strengthening her resolve that she could defeat Dang Solan using it. Using Soyang Swordsmanship felt like donning ill-fitting clothes—a sensation reminiscent of a memory so humiliating it flitted through her mind, causing her to chuckle softly. "You're still laughing," Dang Solan remarked from the opposite side, her breath ragged. "...That's strange. You don't seem to have the luxury for that," Dang Solan remarked, pausing momentarily. Cheongwol felt her stomach turn. She covered her mouth with her hand to conceal the nausea—an unseemly display unfit for others to witness. Dang Solan shook her head slightly. "...It's odd. Today, you feel so different from before." "Is that so?" "To push yourself into my movements and counter them—where did you learn such recklessness? That's not the basic stance of the Soyang Sword." "Wouldn't I know better than anyone what the Soyang Sword is?" "Wol Ah, have you forgotten my moniker? I have some experience, enough to tell when you're lying." "..." "And it's easier said than done. Attacking amidst hidden weapons that would make anyone kneel if merely touched—what exactly happened?" "You seem surprised things aren't going as easily as you expected." Cheongwol said nothing, instead raising her head to meet Dang Solan's gaze directly. Dang Solan smiled. "...It's hard not to be impressed when a junior shows such resilience." She looked Cheongwol up and down and quietly remarked, "Wol Ah, it's just a duel. Don't overexert yourself; giving up is alright, you know. Keeping those poisons in your body isn't good." "If that's what you thought, you shouldn't have proposed the duel in the first place." "Still, you're the only one I'm interested in, you know? Can't you take that positively? I wanted to witness your change." "...Why are you interested in me?" Cheongwol's words sliced through the air, briefly halting the duel as a frigid silence descended. Dang Solan couldn't respond immediately to her question. As the duel paused, the audience watched them with keen interest. For a moment, Cheongwol couldn't understand why it was a difficult question. However, Dang Solan remained silent for a long time, deep in contemplation, her brows furrowing before she finally looked at Cheongwol softly. "We're of the same kind." That was not the answer Cheongwol had anticipated. "Pardon?" "That's why I'm curious about your choices."