Chapter 05 ….
Chapter 3: Proof (2)
Mujin’s opponent in the sparring match was none other than Jinj in, the disciple of Musuk, the deputy leader of Muwondang.
Jinjin was eighteen this year, the oldest among those of the “Jin” generation, and his martial arts skills were equally outstanding. Among the “Jin” generation, he was probably second only to Jinyeong.
Despite the claim that the matchups had been arranged fairly, this pairing clearly smelled suspicious.
“So Mujin’s opponent just happens to be our Jinjin again. What a pity, Senior Brother Yeongho.”
Yeongcheol, the head of Muwondang, spoke to Yeongho with a faint sneer.
Musuk, the deputy leader of Muwondang, was Yeongcheol’s disciple, and Jinjin was Musuk’s disciple. That made Jinjin Yeongcheol’s direct grand-disciple.
“Hmph. You people are really putting on a whole performance by yourselves.”
“What was that?”
At Yeongho’s sarcasm, sparks once again flew between the two men.
“Why are you like this again? Please, both of you, stop.”
As before, Yeongjin stepped in to mediate, and the two men snorted at each other with displeased expressions.
In truth, Yeongho and Yeongcheol had long been sworn rivals.
Back when the former sect leader, the Divine Swift Sword Yeonghyeon, was still alive and before Yeongho lost his martial arts, Yeongcheol had always been overshadowed by Yeongho.
But when Yeonghyeon—who cherished Yeongho—died, and Yeongho lost his martial arts, Yeongcheol swiftly rose to become the true power of the Jeomchang Sect.
Most decisively, there was another reason their relationship had deteriorated so severely.
Yeongcheol belonged to the Qi Faction, which believed internal energy should be prioritized when cultivating the sect’s martial arts. Yeongho belonged to the Sword Faction, which insisted sword techniques should come first.
Originally, when people thought of the Jeomchang Sect, they thought of its Swift Sun-Shooting Sword Technique. It was a sect famous for its swordsmanship.
Naturally, the Sword Faction had long held dominance over the Qi Faction.
But after the Sword Faction’s leader, Divine Swift Sword Yeonghyeon, died, and its second-in-command Yeongho lost his martial arts, the Jeomchang Sect gradually became the world of the Qi Faction.
Yeongho, a core member of the Sword Faction, had even moved away from the main mountain residence—clearly connected to this shift in power.
In a sect now ruled by the Qi Faction, it was extremely difficult for someone like Yeongho to survive.
As a result, even his disciple Mujin had fallen out of favor at the main sect.
‘Show them. Mujin.’
Yeongho saw hope in Mujin.
Before losing his memory, Mujin had been nothing more than a weak and dull youth. But somehow, he had suddenly become a completely different person.
It wasn’t just his demeanor, gaze, or behavior that had changed.
The speed at which he mastered martial arts was astonishing.
In just half a year, he had become fairly proficient in the Splitting Light Three-Heart Six Swords technique, which one had to master before learning the Sun-Shooting Sword Technique.
With half anxiety and half anticipation, Yeongho waited restlessly for Mujin’s turn.
Mujin and Jinjin’s match was last.
There were quite a few participants, so it was only after two shijin had passed that Mujin’s turn finally came.
The previous match had been between Jinyeong—the strongest of the “Jin” generation—and Jinsu, who still seemed to be enduring bullying and ostracism.
Jinsu had shown tenacity until the end, but he had been beaten terribly.
After his easy victory, Jinyeong approached Mujin, who was preparing for his match, and spoke provocatively.
“Senior Uncle, have you been training hard?”
“Training…? More or less.”
“Hm. Still, your body looks much better than before.”
Jinyeong admired Mujin’s more solid physique with mild surprise.
“Thanks.”
“It’s a shame I’m not the one facing you.”
“I’m disappointed too.”
“Oh? Really?”
“This Senior Uncle will discipline you soon enough, so just wait quietly.”
“Hahaha!”
At Mujin’s provocation, Jinyeong clutched his stomach and laughed.
“I’ll look forward to it, Senior Uncle.”
“Sure.”
Snorting, Jinyeong then approached Jinjin.
“He doesn’t seem to know his place, so don’t go easy on him. Teach him a proper lesson.”
“Alright.”
Normally such words would be whispered, but Jinyeong spoke loudly enough for Mujin to hear.
Jinjin also snorted dismissively and cracked his neck.
“Mujin, Jinjin. Enter!”
At the command of Musuk, who acted as both host and referee, Mujin and Jinjin stepped into the training arena.
“This is only a sparring match. Lethal moves that threaten your opponent’s life are absolutely forbidden. Understood?”
Strangely, Musuk directed the warning only at Jinjin, not Mujin.
He, too, completely disregarded Mujin.
“I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my Senior Uncle.”
“Fine.”
“Make the first move. This grand-nephew will concede you the initiative.”
“Oh?”
Jinjin arrogantly yielded the first move.
In the martial world, it was customary for seniors to concede a few moves to juniors. Considering that Mujin’s generation rank far surpassed Jinjin’s, this was utterly absurd.
That was how little Jinjin thought of him.
“Then I won’t refuse.”
Looking at Jinjin’s face, Mujin vaguely remembered something.
When he had just reincarnated and was being beaten by Jinyeong, this was the one laughing the loudest from behind.
In that instant, Mujin’s figure vanished.
“Huh?”
—Thud!
“Argh!”
Though they had been three zhang apart, Mujin closed the distance in a blink and slammed his forehead into Jinjin’s face.
“You bastard!”
Jinjin assumed he had only been careless. There was no way Mujin’s movement could truly have been that invisible.
Regaining his senses, Jinjin cursed and thrust his fist forward in a straight punch infused with decent internal energy.
“Oh my.”
With a playful tone, Mujin lowered his upper body and dodged the punch, then swung his elbow upward from below.
—Crack!
“Aaaagh!”
The elbow struck Jinjin’s face squarely.
The sharp blow tore his face as if cut by a blade, and bright red blood burst forth.
“Haa… Blood? Uraaah!”
Seeing the blood gush out, Jinjin lost his reason and reached for the wooden sword at his waist.
“Huh…?”
He couldn’t draw it.
At some point, Mujin had already closed in and was blocking his draw with his palm.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
—Crack!
“Aaagh!”
With a sinister smile, Mujin twisted the wrist holding the wooden sword.
“Where did that bravado go? Saying you’d yield the first move to your Senior Uncle? Did I look like an easy pushover?”
—Slap! Slap! Slap!
Grabbing Jinjin by the collar and yanking him upright, Mujin began repeatedly slapping him.
This was no longer sparring—it was one-sided violence.
“Stop!”
Jinjin had already passed out.
Unable to watch any longer, Musuk hurried forward, his face flushed with fury.
Though he had intended not to interfere, it seemed this would turn into a major incident if left unchecked.
“You brat! I told you to spar—who told you to assault him? Do you not even know what a sparring match is?!”
Musuk was Jinjin’s direct master.
Whether Mujin had displayed tremendous skill was irrelevant.
His beloved disciple had been humiliated and beaten.
“If he didn’t surrender, isn’t it fine to continue? Honestly.”
“What?”
“Just declare the winner.”
“You…!”
At Mujin’s insolent attitude, Musuk unconsciously raised his hand, then forced himself to restrain his anger under the many watching eyes.
“Hurry.”
“You brat… I will never forget this.”
“Yes, yes.”
Unbothered by the threat, Mujin smiled brightly.
“The winner of this match… is Mujin.”
“Hahahahaha!”
Musuk spat out the declaration through gritted teeth, and Mujin burst into loud laughter.
It wasn’t laughter from joy—it was deliberate mockery.
The shockwaves of the sparring tournament were immense.
Everyone had only been watching to see what Jinjin would do to Mujin.
Instead, the opposite occurred, leaving the entire arena dumbfounded.
Thus, Mujin returned to his residence with his master Yeongho, looking exceedingly triumphant.
The two held a modest celebration.
“You truly worked hard today. I knew you had grown stronger, but even I did not expect you to dominate so completely.”
“Hehehe.”
“Seeing the twisted faces of those at the main sect felt like clearing ten years’ worth of indigestion. Tsk. They should have kept kinder hearts.”
“Hehehe.”
“Think about it. If you hadn’t had strength today, what would have happened? You would have been publicly beaten by your grand-nephew and rolled across the arena in utter humiliation.”
“That’s right.”
Mujin’s shoulders swelled with pride under the continued praise.
“But… you may have gone a bit too far.”
“…What?”
When Yeongho suddenly changed tone to something resembling reproach, Mujin blinked in surprise.
“You are, after all, a first-generation disciple of the great Jeomchang Sect. Yet it felt like a back-alley brawl. If I felt that way, others must have felt even more strongly.”
“Ah…”
“You could have simply inflicted appropriate pain and defeated him. Was it necessary to slap him repeatedly?”
“Well… I thought it would leave a stronger impression…”
As befitted the former King of Assassins, Mujin feared nothing in the world.
Yet for some reason, whenever he stood before Yeongho, he felt unable to move freely—as if the original Mujin’s deep reverence for his master lingered within him.
Under Yeongho’s stern gaze, cold sweat formed.
“I understand the humiliation you once suffered. But they will surely use this as an excuse to make trouble.”
After all, the match had been a formal sparring bout.
Breaking Jinjin’s wrist and repeatedly slapping him could indeed become an issue.
“I will be more careful from now on. I failed to control my emotions.”
“What’s done is done. If the situation had been reversed, they would have laughed heartily. Still… I am sorry this master lacks power.”
“Please don’t say that.”
It was Mujin who comforted Yeongho.
‘This is only the beginning.’
The spar with Jinjin was merely a first step.
There was much more he intended to show.
‘First, I’ll take over the Jeomchang Sect. Then I’ll begin my revenge. Just wait.’
Unlike Yeongho’s worries, Mujin was already thinking far ahead.
He had survived the ruthless world of assassins barehanded and risen to become the King of Assassins—Cheonmundeok.
Compared to that, the schemes and suppression within the Jeomchang Sect were hardly threatening.
‘Yeomun must have joined hands with the Blood Cult that hid itself for so long while eyeing my position. Neither Yeomun nor the Blood Cult are easy opponents.’
Mujin’s eyes gleamed sharply.
‘But I, Cheonmundeok—no, Mujin—may die once, but I will never die twice.’
The direct disciple Yeomun, who had led the King of Assassins Cheonmundeok to his death, and the Blood Cult symbolized by a red monstrous emblem.
They were the true enemies.
