Camellia 81

Before the duel began in earnest, the two warriors each prepared in their own way. Peng Rang ran her fingers along the blade, checking the sharpness and balance of her sword, while Seolyeong closed his eyes and tried to follow the flow of Qi not from his danjeon, but from his chest.

The vessel that held his internal energy had shattered, so he could no longer draw on his power like before. But at the very least, he owed it to himself to move in sync with the flow of Qi. That way, he might avoid the humiliation of being defeated in a single strike.

Of course, this only held true if the Peng clan warrior didn’t come at him with full force from the start.

Seolyeong had hoped Sahyeol Amje might step in and declare that the match should be conducted with swordsmanship alone, no Qi. But of course not. That bastard of a husband, who seemed to be sulking over being refused, simply announced the start of the duel with an indifferent air.

“The victor of this match shall receive a divine relic in the name of the Cheonma Singyo Sect. Fight fiercely, for the glory of our sect.”

The moment Tang Yujae tilted his head, Peng Rang swept her sword across and took a half-step back into a ready stance.

A deadly chill rose from her feet, instantly covering half the dueling plateform. It was the icy Qi of the North Sea, blanketed in snow and ice like Mount Yeonhu itself, honed through brutal training.

It was an intense yin Qi, completely opposite to Seolyeong’s.

Seolyeong couldn’t help but wonder how she’d come to wield such a force. She had been born with yang energy, and once trained in martial arts that mimicked volcanic eruptions. This wasn’t just a mix of yin and yang, it was yin swallowing yang whole.

As a warrior, he acknowledged her.

“To achieve such mastery in a body born for yang… you must have truly trained without fear of death, sister.”

Then, while Peng Rang allowed him that time, Seolyeong steadied his stance to intercept her first strike. To block her lateral attack, he raised his sword vertically and stepped back with his right foot.

Footwork and movement techniques could still be used without internal power. Especially for defensive moves, there was no reason to give up just because his danjeon was broken. No matter how powerful the strike, if he could avoid it, he wouldn’t fall.

Seolyeong fixed his full attention on Peng Rang and exhaled.

“Come, sister.”

And in that moment, her body vanished without a trace. Her presence evaporated from every direction.

Even the warriors in the audience stretched their necks like cranes trying to find her. Seolyeong ground his teeth and spun around just in time. From above, Peng Rang descended with the first strike of her Iceforge Sword technique, a literal snowstorm of a blow.

Clang!

Their swords clashed with a deafening roar, like a natural disaster ripping through the arena. The sharp bluish-gray glare carved into Seolyeong’s eyes.

“Ugh…!”

The impact that rode down the blade made it feel like his body was being shredded. He had tried to trace her movements by focusing not on her Yin Qi, but the remnants of yang inside her body instead. But even so, his wrists were nearly ruined. He looked down at his hands with pity. And then,

–Ask your husband for help.

Even as Seolyeong fought a battle where life and death hung in the balance, Sahyeol Amje had the gall to whisper into his head, as if poking at a wound for amusement.

–At this rate, you’ll be finished in three seconds.

Their swords were still locked together. Up close, Peng Rang’s face was as cold and still as if encased in ice.

It was a relentless blade that wouldn’t ease up until the opponent broke.

A metallic tang filled Seolyeong’s mouth. His limbs, unprotected by Qi, screamed in agony. At this rate, his bones would shatter.

“…Why aren’t you using any techniques?”

Peng Rang growled, pressing down harder. She couldn’t help but feel offended. She had come at him with full internal force, while her opponent had met her with nothing. He might as well have been a civilian wielding a stick.

It was no wonder she felt insulted.

If Seolyeong weren’t a blood fiend, he would’ve already been dead. And even now, his body was a wreck. His veins were torn, and his blood was twisting out of rhythm.

“What, you think you can handle me without using any inner energy at all?”

Before he could explain, Peng Rang came at him with her second strike. Her sword spun, cutting through the air with merciless precision.

Clang!

A reinforced killing blow. Seolyeong barely blocked it, but was thrown to the edge of the arena. The blue quartz floor cracked, and debris scattered.

“Cough…”

He spat out a mouthful of foul blood, wiped his lips, and staggered to his feet.

He’d already noticed Peng Rang was holding back. If she hadn’t, he probably would’ve blacked out by now.

Now she stood waiting, giving him the chance to strike.

And of course, Sahyeol Amje was still whispering.

–Are you just going to keep getting hit?

“……”

–That idiot Geukmungak who bet on you? His face is priceless right now. Looks like he’s ready to hang himself from the shame.

“Damn it! You talk too much!”

Seolyeong scrubbed at his ear with his finger and slung his sword up onto his shoulder, spitting out a shard of broken tooth.

Peng Rang, misunderstanding his outburst as directed at her, flared up with visible veins across her forehead.

Ignoring her, Seolyeong tried to steady his breathing. As much as he hated it, Sahyeol Amje had a point. If he took two more hits like that, he’d pass out for sure.

The Peng clan’s weighted footwork, combined with the icy sharpness of their swordsmanship, made for a style that was compact and solid. No wasted movements. If he met her blade-for-blade, his wrist would be the first to break.

“Fuck it…”

Seolyeong had come here to buy time anyway. So he readjusted his grip, relaxing his stance. One inhale lifted his heels, one exhale dropped his shoulders.

The Peng clan’s quick-sword style, famous for its flashy movements, was reborn in the hands of a blood fiend.

Without internal power, the rhythm of his forms spread like heat haze.

He leapt gracefully into the air, swirling through three somersaults as his sleeves fluttered. What had seemed like a strike angled from the diagonal suddenly twisted midair and flew toward Peng Rang’s back.

She flinched for just a moment at the beauty of it, long enough to lose focus. Just as she turned to counter, two hands thudded onto her shoulders. Seolyeong had perched atop her like a handstand and whispered into her ear.

“Catch me if you can, Arang.”

He’d abandoned his sword mid-duel.

That was the blood fiend’s strength. Inhuman vitality and reflexes.

Rather than lose in a straight-up swordfight, Seolyeong decided to dodge and run. He wasn’t going to win clashing blades, so why even try?

He dodged her incoming strike with a nimble leap.

Even when blades nicked him, he didn’t care. As long as they didn’t pierce his throat, he’d survive. The blood trailing from his wounds looked more like part of a dance than actual injury.

Together, Paeng Rang and Seolyeong seemed to be performing a sword dance.

Watching their impromptu game of tag, Peng Rang’s face twisted with fury. This wasn’t an armed duel but a dance.

But really, was that any less martial?

When her sword slashed vertically, Seolyeong landed on the flat and launched himself into the air. When she swept it horizontally, he arched his back nearly perpendicular and flung his hair out. Then, with both hands, he flipped forward and kicked upward in a spin.

And he shouted.

“Nabi!”

Nabisalsoo, Yeoso, snapped out of his daze. Did that brat just call me Nabi? What the hell, am I a stray cat?

Seolyeong’s pearly robes fluttered through the air like a performance. His voice rang out again.

“Bipa!”

He wanted music to match his dance.