Martial Arts Ain't Anything Special-Chapter 42: Martial Arts Tournament (2)

Despite his bold ambitions, Seojun couldn’t immediately face Dam Je-il in combat.

This was because Seojun’s next opponent after receiving a bye was a martial artist named Seo Bokwoo, not Dam Je-il.

“Pleased to meet you. I am Seo Bokwoo of the Metaphorical Sword School.”

Seojun returned the fist-palm salute to the man.

“I’m Lee Seojun, Chunbong’s big brother.”

Seo Bokwoo’s expression became strange, but Seojun paid it no mind.

From the looks of it, Seo Bokwoo’s realm seemed to be around First-Rate. He seemed to have entered more for the experience rather than seriously aiming for victory.

In fact, there weren’t many Peak Realm martial artists among those here from the start. Most were First-Rate or Second-Rate.

The main tournament would probably be a competition between Peak Realm martial artists.

“Ahem.”

The Mount Hua Sect martial artist cleared his throat to get their attention, exchanged glances with the two, then extended his hand forward.

“Begin!”

As the Mount Hua Sect martial artist’s hand went up, Seo Bokwoo charged in.

A hazy sword qi enveloped his sword. It thrust towards Seojun’s shoulder fiercely, but compared to Chunbong, this was nothing.

Seojun casually drew his sword and deflected it with Flowing Clouds over the Clear River, then brought his sword to the man’s neck.

That was the end.

For a moment, the arena went silent.

“...Winner, Lee Seojun!”

Only after that declaration did the spectating martial artists open their mouths.

“Lee Seojun...? Have you heard of him?”

“Not at all. Even that Seo Bokwoo wasn’t someone to be underestimated...”

Seo Bokwoo, who had been standing with his mouth agape, finally came to his senses and made a shaky fist-palm salute.

“...I learned something.”

“You fought well.”

After exchanging proper courtesies, Seojun stepped down from the arena and scratched his neck.

Is it because it’s the preliminaries?

His skills weren’t particularly satisfying.

*Dam Je-il won another match against a different martial artist.

He had now fought two matches while Seojun had only fought one.

It would have been understandable to complain about the unfairness, but no one here voiced such complaints.

Everyone knew that in a preliminary with over a thousand participants, such complaints wouldn’t be listened to anyway.

Of course, in an ordinary martial arts tournament, the martial artists wouldn’t have kept their dissatisfaction to themselves.

Granting a moment of calm reflection to these martial artists who would normally think with their swords—that was the power of Mount Hua Sect.

“I saw you fight quite well earlier! But you’re no match for me! Why don’t you just surrender to avoid getting hurt?”

Seojun rubbed his ear hearing him shout.

Being surrounded by all these men made him just want to hurry up and touch Chunbong’s cheeks.

“Lee Seojun, Dam Je-il, come forward.”

At the referee’s call, Seojun sprang up and headed to the arena.

Dam Je-il also clicked his tongue and followed behind.

Standing face to face with Dam Je-il, Seojun absentmindedly fiddled with his sword.

No joke, withdrawal symptoms were starting to appear.

His hands were trembling, and his heart was pounding.

He felt like he might stab Dam Je-il in the gut if he couldn’t touch Chunbong’s cheeks right away.

“Old man.”

“Huh?”

“You better block well, okay?”

As Seojun drew the sword at his waist, Dam Je-il let out a bitter laugh.

“How ridiculous! You should worry about yourself, brat!”

The referee gave them both a look and declared.

“Begin!”

As soon as the word fell, Dam Je-il charged with heavy footsteps.

Boom! Boom!

His steps were so heavy it felt like the arena might break. Yet his footsteps were nimble as he approached—truly a masterful movement technique.

Seojun took a deep breath and twisted the sword in his grip.

If I kill him, I’m fucked. For real.

He had absolutely no desire to become an object of obsession for those Mount Hua Sect friends.

Dam Je-il suddenly appeared right in front of him and swung his large blade down at Seojun’s shoulder.

“Haaah...!”

The air pressure pressed down on his shoulder even before the blade made contact. Seojun didn’t resist that downward force, but rather used it to spin his body.

The essence of the Wang family blade technique was, simply put, to kill in one strike.

A clear golden blade qi enveloped Seojun’s spinning sword.

It was impossible, and yet it had already happened.

He roughly swung his sword and cut through Dam Je-il’s blade.

“What the...!”

Dam Je-il’s eyes went wide.

Seojun’s sword continued its path and at the end of its arc was his opponent’s thick neck.

Thin skin. Thick muscle. Tendons and blood vessels. The hard bone at the center.

Past the center, tendons and blood vessels again. Thick muscle. Thin skin.

The corners of Seojun’s mouth eerily grinned widely.

“Oh fuck. Phew, that was close huh.”

His sword had barely managed to stop, slightly cutting into Dam Je-il’s neck.

“Huff...! Huff...!”

Dam Je-il, gasping for air, collapsed as if his legs had given out.

A thin stream of blood trickled down from his neck.

He kept taking deep breaths while clutching his neck, but when his eyes met Seojun’s, his body trembled.

The arena floor became wet with yellow liquid.

“Oh fuck! Shit!”

A startled Seojun quickly backed away from him.

“Hey old man! You pissing yourself!? You’re not that old, are you!?”

“Ugh....”

Dam Je-il finally passed out.

Seojun’s jaw dropped.

“No way... This is ridiculous, seriously...”

*Woonbyeok, in charge of Group 78, looked at the martial artist who had just finished fighting.

Lee Seojun, was it?

His attitude was so carefree that he thought he was just a street thug, but his skills were unexpectedly excellent.

Especially that from earlier.

The faint image of a blade that had appeared over his swinging sword.

It was a phenomenon only seen in martial artists with the concept of a blade strongly imprinted in their mind.

The corner of Woonbyeok’s mouth slightly rose.

Seems his original weapon is a blade, not a sword.

It happened occasionally. Those who hid their true weapon to confuse their opponents.

But they couldn’t fool Woonbyeok’s eyes.

With skills like that, he’ll probably go up to a certain point. But even with the of best luck, he’ll only win once or twice more.

The purity of his blade qi was admirable, but while his blade technique wasn’t lacking, it couldn’t be called outstanding either.

Still, it was fate that he was in the group Woonbyeok was in charge of. A little cheering wouldn’t hurt.

“Congratulations on advancing to the main tournament.”

Woonbyeok approached Seojun and handed him a token. The token had the number 78 written large on it.

“This token proves your advancement to the main tournament. Be careful not to lose it.”

“Ah, thanks. So, is it all over now?”

“Indeed. If I may offer some advice, in the main tournament—”

Whoosh!

Woonbyeok blinked as Seojun vanished right before his eyes.

“Eh...”

After being frozen for a while, Woonbyeok looked around the arena, hiding his discomfort.

Dam Je-il had collapsed and was marinating in his own urine.

Woonbyeok’s face contorted.

“Damn it...”

*Seojun quickly moved using the Yellow Dragon Crossing the Rosy Clouds technique, searching for the location of Group 125.

There it is.

It seemed Chunbong was about to have her match, facing her opponent.

Geum Chunbong in her suspicious attire with her bamboo hat pulled low and a face veil covering her face.

But she’s so tiny that it’s just cute.

“Chunbong Fighting!”

Chunbong turned her head sharply and then shrugged.

A sense of peace suddenly washed over him.

Seojun sat down looking like he was about to enter nirvana, preparing to watch the match.

Chunbong’s opponent was a scrawny-looking man, but his handsome face made Seojun uncomfortable.

If that bastard leaves even a single scratch on Chunbong’s body...

Mount Hua Sect or whatever, I’ll just smash his head in.

“Begin!”

At the referee’s signal, Chunbong made the first move.

She gently extended her front foot, gliding forward, then quickly pivoted while drawing her sword from her waist.

Clang!

Her opponent parried the slash, but Chunbong’s sword remained pressed against her opponent.

The Mysterious Principle of Binding.

This technique allowed one to control the opponent’s actions through constant pressure and contact.

Her opponent seemed flustered and tried to disengage, but Chunbong’s sword remained bound to his.

Then, the moment her opponent applied pressure back—

Whoosh—

She redirected his force, sending his sword flying upwards.

“Wha...!”

And so the match ended.

“Winner, Chunbong!”

Her opponent looked at the cold blade at his neck and hung his head.

“...I lost.”

“You fought well.”

After the two martial artists exchanged courtesies, the supervisor of Group 125 handed Chunbong a token and said something to her.

Watching this, Seojun scratched his chin.

Martial artists...

When he saw Chunbong after watching amateur martial artists, he felt it anew.

The martial arts of a proper martial artist were different.

Beyond the presence or absence of qi, there seemed to be a mystery dwelling in the weapons they wielded.

The sword art Chunbong just used in the match wasn’t the Blue Cloud Divine Sword.

She just showed the mysterious principle of binding once and ended the match.

Nevertheless, the way she swung her sword was as smooth and elegant as flowing clouds, making it feel like he had watched a landscape painting rather than a match.

“As expected of my Chunbong...!”

Unable to hold himself back, Seojun leaped up and scooped Chunbong into his arms.

“Uwa...!?”

“My Chunbong did so well!”

“Stop! Hey! Not outside!”

“Up up we go!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

He ended up getting hit by her rapid-fire punches.

The tension in his lower back eased away.

*As they were leaving the arena together, Seojun suddenly remembered something and asked.

“By the way, I probably shouldn’t use the Primordial Sun-Moon Finger in matches, right?”

“...You’re seriously asking that?”

“Well, true.”

Unless he was planning to turn his opponent into a lump of meat, it was right to refrain from using the Primordial Sun-Moon Finger.

“Then can I use the Primordial Divine Art?”

“Well, that should be fine, I think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The qi itself is so pure that they can’t accuse you of using demonic arts or evil arts.”

Then what was that Clear River Sect Leader on about?

Seojun stroked his chin with a strange expression before nodding.

“Well, that should be fine then. Big brother will win everything for you.”

“Wow look at you. I’m the who’s gonna win you know?”

“What...! You dare say you’ll beat your heavenly big brother!?”

“Bullshit.”

Seojun chuckled and patted Chunbong’s bamboo hat.

“Anyway, let’s go eat now.”

“Oh my? We meet again.”

Seojun turned his head towards the familiar voice.

“Wow, boobs.”

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He was clearly looking at a person, but all he could see were breasts.

His hand instinctively moved towards his sword, but Chunbong pinched his side really fucking hard.

“Ow...!”

“No, you crazy bastard!”

“Why, why...!”

“What!? Boobs? Have you really lost your mind!?”

Ah, did I say that out loud?

Seojun smiled awkwardly.

“My bad, I apologize. But seriously, they’re huge.”