I Will Start Doing Business In Jungwon From Today [EN]: Chapter 209

Jeon Hyo-myeong took a deep breath, but felt no surge of energy.

Nevertheless, the fine sand and pebbles on the ground, and the fallen leaves blowing in the wind, swirled around Yoo Gyu-seong’s body.

While everyone else believed the young Demonic Cultivator possessed profound inner energy, Jo Gwang-yun’s eyes widened.

“That… that is…!”

Jang Cheong-un and Yeom-sin, standing close by, didn’t hear Jo Gwang-yun’s muttering, their attention fixed on the martial arts contest.

Jo Gwang-yun realized why Master Kwon Jung-won had sent him here.

‘That young Demonic Cultivator uses the upper dantian [energy center in the forehead] just like me.’

Unlike the surprised Jo Gwang-yun, Yoo Gyu-seong was annoyed.

‘Why is this guy resorting to such a petty tactic, obscuring my vision with sand and dust that poses no real threat?’

However, as the dust pressed down on him more fiercely, he adjusted his sword, gathered his inner energy, and focused his senses. His vision was completely blocked.

Just then, he saw the tip of a sword.

‘A feint?’

One sword tip became two, then four, then eight, constantly multiplying. But none of them were real.

‘He doesn’t think such cheap tricks will work on me, does he?’ Yoo Gyu-seong even wondered what the young Demonic Cultivator’s real purpose was.

Yoo Gyu-seong gathered his inner energy and blew away the dust blocking his vision.

When his eyes cleared, he saw Jeon Hyo-myeong smiling, his sword aimed at his Adam’s apple.

“Bang!!”

He raised his left hand and struck towards Jeon Hyo-myeong’s face with a palm strike. But he had already disappeared, and once again, dust enveloped him.

And then, the Demonic Arts began in earnest.

The two began to clash swords within the dust cloud.

The crowd, who had hoped to witness a historic moment, couldn’t hide their disappointment. All they could see were the blurred afterimages of the two figures and swirling dust. They could only surmise that a sword fight was in progress because of the sharp sounds of clashing steel.

They had come to witness the Demonic Cult’s martial arts, but instead, they were just getting covered in dust from Mount Wudang.

Before even fifteen minutes had passed, the two figures mixed in the dust separated, each catching their breath and dusting off their clothes. And their faces showed elation.

“Amazing! I’ve raised it to the twelfth level in a long time. Better than expected.”

“Hey, Wudang Mister. Are you just going to keep using the same old Three Calamities Swordplay? You have a lot of good stuff. Let’s see some Wudang Sword.”

Yoo Gyu-seong was impressed, while Jeon Hyo-myeong grumbled.

“Alright. This time it’s for real. I will mainly use the Mysterious Void Seven Stars Swordplay, and occasionally use some tricks.”

As Jeon Hyo-myeong’s expression turned joyful, a telepathic message pierced his ears.

‘Finish it quickly. We have a long way to go.’

When Jeon Hyo-myeong glanced at the source of the telepathic message, Great Elder Kang Sang-yeong was scowling at him.

Jeon Hyo-myeong sighed once and nodded his head slightly.

“Unfortunately, I will have to witness Wudang’s swordplay another time.”

“Huh?”

While he was hesitating, not understanding the meaning, Jeon Hyo-myeong flew up and struck his sword down towards Yoo Gyu-seong’s head.

“Heot!”

He hurriedly raised his sword to block it, but Jeon Hyo-myeong simply pressed down on the sword without changing his stance.

Now the touching sword blades were motionless.

Jeon Hyo-myeong trying to push down, Yoo Gyu-seong trying to resist. It was a simple battle of strength.

‘Is this guy trying to fight with inner energy now?’

Yoo Gyu-seong’s feet dug into the ground.

But he was more worried about his sword.

‘Can the sword withstand it?’

His sword was just a Cheonggang Sword [a common, mass-produced sword].

Seeing the worry in Yoo Gyu-seong’s eyes, Jeon Hyo-myeong chuckled and said.

“Don’t be scared. My sword is also from the smithy. You can’t escape anyway. I’ll keep doing this until my inner energy runs out.”

‘The young man from the Demonic Cult is talking! He is using all his strength, but this guy is talking!’

Should he admit defeat at this point?

For the sake of his fellow disciples, he must save face even if he dies. How long can he last?

Most people were watching this scene boredly, and a few were exclaiming in admiration.

“How long do you think you can last?”

“It’s frustrating, but Great Warrior Yoo is several levels above me. I’ve already lost in the operation of inner energy.”

Noh Hye-gwang shook his head at Mo Yong-hwi’s question.

The two are pouring out their inner energy with all their might. But no one feels the energy. Efficient operation of transferring that enormous energy only to the sword without wasting a bit. How many can do this?

“It’s the difference in mental strength and concentration. You’re too distracted for a guy who trains in the mountains. If you had known why facing the wall in meditation was important, there would be no difference between you and that guy.”

“Damn it, are you comparing me to Great Warrior Yoo now? Can’t you see the young guy? Even if I join forces now, I can’t guarantee that I can defeat that greenhorn.”

“There is nothing more foolish than comparing yourself to someone you cannot reach. If you start comparing yourself to that guy, you will break your sword.”

Mo Yong-hwi spoke with a bit of pity and admonishment, but Noh Hye-gwang did not hear it.

He was now feeling like he was facing a huge wall, and he was anxiously watching Yoo Gyu-seong being crushed by that wall.

About thirty minutes later, an explosion occurred. Yoo Gyu-seong’s sword shattered into pieces and scattered.

Noh Hye-gwang, exhausted, caught his breath, but the shock did not subside.

Because the young Demonic Cultivator instantly recovered the enormous amount of energy he had been emitting, and he had no internal injuries and not a single hair was harmed.

He just needs to replenish his depleted energy with breath control.

Jeon Hyo-myeong silently put his sword back into its scabbard and turned around.

Demonic Cultivators are not good at comforting the defeated.

Because those who were defeated by Demonic Cultivators were dead men who did not need words of comfort.

Yoo Gyu-seong stood powerlessly in front of the Sect Leader.

“I’m sorry. I have brought great dishonor to the sect. I will gladly accept the punishment.”

“No. You did well. I only burdened you with a great responsibility.”

The Sect Leader stroked Yoo Gyu-seong’s shoulder.

At that moment, a loud voice was heard.

“Are you still attached? Shall we continue?”

It was the Demonic Cult’s Great Elder who spoke to Wudang.

His appearance was full of confidence and even arrogance, but the Wudang Sect Leader had to admit defeat.

Hadn’t he seen it himself?

The greenhorn had shown mercy to Wudang’s best talent. Thanks to that, the disciple who would carry Wudang was unharmed?

The Sect Leader was about to carefully open his mouth, but he missed the opportunity because of the person who spoke first.

“Before we decide whether to continue or stop, let’s confirm one thing first.”

Mo Yong-hwi walked past the training ground and stood in front of the Demonic Cultivator.

“I am Mo Yong-hwi, representing the Murim Alliance [governing body of martial arts sects].”

The strongest person in the Central Plains is in front of them. The eyes of the Demonic Cultivators changed. In particular, Jeon Hyo-myeong, who had crossed swords with Yoo Gyu-seong a little while ago, even put a lot of strength into the hand holding his sword.

The Great Elder put his hands together and paid his respects.

“I never thought I would meet the famous Sword Saint [title for a master swordsman] here… It’s an honor.”

“What honor… I’m just a washed-up old man now. More than that, is that friend the lowest seat [rank]?”

Mo Yong-hwi pointed to Jeon Hyo-myeong.

“No. Although he is young, he is the pride of our cult.”

“Is he stronger than you?”

Other Demonic Cultivators shouted at the blunt question that cut off the side branches.

“Old man! Watch your mouth. You say ‘you’ [implying disrespect]!”

“Are you testing our patience? We have been considerate and polite enough so far. Do you have to see something rough?”

“Everyone stop!”

At the Great Elder’s voice, everyone closed their mouths.

“Our elders seem to have been a little agitated for a moment. Well… as you may have heard, we tend to neglect our mind-controlling training.”

Mo Yong-hwi waved his hand.

“No, it’s not. I made a mistake. But I have no intention of correcting that mistake, so what can I do? As you may have heard, I also abandoned mind training a long time ago.”

Everyone was nervous at Mo Yong-hwi’s words.

In particular, the Taoists of Wudang were burning inside.

It was difficult to understand why the Alliance Leader was provoking them.

If they started a sword fight, Wudang would be devastated, given their martial arts.

Wasn’t the purpose of the martial arts contest to avoid such an unfortunate event?

“Are you trying not to keep your promise now that you’ve come this far?”

“Promise? What promise?”

“The loser will close the gates. Are you going to deny that you don’t know?”

Mo Yong-hwi smiled.

“Well, that’s just the content of the letter you unilaterally sent, and we don’t remember agreeing to it. Or is that not the case?”

“Alliance Leader!”

Great Elder Kang Sang-yeong, who had been speaking calmly without losing his composure, finally shouted.

“Until now, I have been laughing it off, thinking that a grumpy old man is stubbornly insisting. But from now on, I will consider the words of the Alliance Leader as the official conclusion of the Central Plains Murim. I hope you will think carefully and speak carefully.”

As the Great Elder spoke slowly, everyone felt it.

The momentum he was revealing was so enormous that even the young Demonic Cultivator who had completely subdued Wudang’s best swordsman could not even approach it.

In particular, Mo Yong-hwi, who was closest to him, was so shocked that his face turned pale.

He had fully grasped the capabilities of the young man who was the pride of the Demonic Cult. He was confident that he could subdue him even if he had not used all his strength and had hidden 30% of it.

Even if Kang Sang-yeong, who was introduced as the Great Elder, was far superior to that young man, he guessed that he would at least not be defeated even if they were evenly matched.

However, after experiencing the momentum he had revealed a little while ago, he felt that it would be fortunate if he did not suffer severe humiliation, let alone being evenly matched.

Mo Yong-hwi looked as if he was terrified, but he was swept away by an emotion he had forgotten for a very long time.

Fighting spirit.

Even if he died in this place today, the martial artist’s spirit was stirring, wanting to cross swords with the opponent in front of him, to unleash all his skills, and to fight until he had used up every last bit of his energy.

The blood that had already cooled down was boiling again.

‘I did something unnecessary. Is he still a martial artist even when he’s old?’

Kang Sang-yeong did not miss the light in Mo Yong-hwi’s eyes.

“I have heard your answer. It seems you have a lot of regrets left.”

As Kang Sang-yeong said with a slight smile, joy flashed across Mo Yong-hwi’s face.

“If I lose, the Murim Alliance will be disbanded. That’s all within my authority.”

“That’s enough. We have to do it anyway, so we’ll save a lot of trouble.”

As Kang Sang-yeong held out his hand, Jeon Hyo-myeong quickly ran over and handed him his sword.

In front of Mo Yong-hwi, who was nervous at the sight, Kang Sang-yeong began to mutter as he looked down at the sword.

“The place where we live is a dry desert. But even that barren land has everything it needs. Even rats… But this rat is very admirable.”

Mo Yong-hwi’s eyebrows twitched. Could he be talking about himself?

“All day long, they eat, poop, and breed… But pooping and breeding is easy. But eating is difficult. Why? Because it’s a desert. There’s no rice or beans to steal and eat in the desert. So what does this guy eat…?”

Kang Sang-yeong raised his head, looked into Mo Yong-hwi’s eyes, and said.

“The martial artists of the prosperous Central Plains have probably never risked their lives every time they eat, so they wouldn’t know how it feels.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Mo Yong-hwi asked quietly.

“Did you misunderstand? That’s not what I meant.”

“Then?”

Kang Sang-yeong slowly emitted his sword energy and said.

“I mean that the Alliance Leader must risk his life to eat dinner, at least today.”