CHAPTER 66……………………………..
The Meaning of Existence (2)
“It’s strange.”
After a long silence, an unexpected remark escaped from Pyeong-ha’s mouth.
“My palm is tingling.”
“…What?”
At Pyeong-ha’s words, Sotae frowned.
“Are you trying to say this is your first time using a wooden sword?”
“I’ve used sticks before—things like this. But I’ve never actually clashed with someone like this.”
Despite answering the question, Pyeong-ha’s face looked oddly cheerful. His eyes sparkled, and he smiled like a child discovering something new and fascinating for the first time.
At that moment, a chill ran down Sotae’s spine.
This brat… could he really…?
It was his first time dueling with a wooden sword?
And yet he had dodged and parried Sotae’s attacks so cleanly?
No—that was impossible.
Sotae, who had been hailed as a prodigy within the martial academy for years, couldn’t be on equal footing with someone who had never properly trained before.
The urge to rush in and crush the boy’s arrogance surged inside him, but Sotae bit his lip and forced himself to stay calm as he took his stance.
“…Fine.”
Swish.
“Let’s see how long you can keep that composure.”
He had learned something after reviewing their previous fight many times:
The opponent had great strength and speed, but his movements were clumsy—proof that he had never learned formal footwork.
And this time, the weapon in Sotae’s hand was an ebony wooden sword—almost as hard as steel. Unlike their last fight, his weapon wouldn’t break this time. If he stayed calm, victory was certain.
Just as Sotae began to move in earnest, circling to catch Pyeong-ha’s blind spot—
Whish!
Thud!
“Gah…!”
Pyeong-ha’s left hand suddenly swung forward, and a wooden throwing knife shot out like a flash of light, striking Sotae squarely in the chest.
What…!
It wasn’t a clumsy throw. The lightweight wooden dagger had hit a vital point—precisely, and with surprising force.
As Sotae’s breath caught and his movements froze, Pyeong-ha lunged forward, wooden sword raised high.
“Haaah!”
Whish!
Crash!
“Urgh…!”
Sotae barely blocked the downward strike, but the impact wasn’t fully absorbed; his sword bounced back and grazed his own head.
Had it been a real sword, he might have been seriously injured—or dead.
But this was, after all, a wooden sword match.
Grinding his teeth to endure the shock, Sotae heard Pyeong-ha’s voice near his ear—brimming with confidence.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
“…!”
“About what I should do if I fought you again.”
“Tch…!”
If things continued this way, he’d suffer another humiliating defeat.
Desperate to turn the tables, Sotae shoved Pyeong-ha back and retreated quickly.
Slide.
Tap, tap!
“Stay back!”
“No!”
Sotae darted back, changing directions repeatedly, while Pyeong-ha pursued relentlessly, refusing to let the distance widen.
The chase was on.
“…That kid’s holding up better than I thought.”
Black Panther (Heukpyo) scratched the back of his head, frowning at the unexpected turn of events.
He’d taught Pyeong-ha how to finish a fight with a single decisive strike—but with wooden swords instead of steel, that hadn’t been possible.
Should’ve taught him footwork too, he thought ruefully.
If he had, Pyeong-ha wouldn’t be chasing so awkwardly now. Or if that first thrown dagger had hit the leg instead of the chest…
Wait… the dagger?
As the thought hit him, Heukpyo glanced at Baekryeong, who happened to be thinking the same thing.
“….”
“….”
For a brief moment, the two exchanged a silent look, then both nodded slightly and turned their attention back to the duel.
Then—
“Did you two teach him that?”
“…!”
“H-huh? Teach what?”
Startled, Heukpyo and Baekryeong widened their eyes at Gwangpae’s question.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Gwangpae gave them a sharp look.
“Don’t play dumb. It was suspicious enough when you suddenly gave him throwing knives and wooden swords.”
“Ehem…”
“Hmm…”
“I’ll let it slide for now since he’s still fighting—but we’ll talk about this later.”
“Boss, come on! We only taught him for his sake—”
“For his sake, yeah!”
“Can you three be quiet?”
Yeonha narrowed her eyes at them.
“Pyeong-ha’s still fighting.”
Realizing they’d gotten too noisy, the Black Angels fell silent again, focusing on the duel.
Meanwhile, on the other side, the atmosphere in the Heukmyeong Martial Hall’s camp was entirely different—cold and tense.
This can’t be happening…
The instructor, Gwanju, clenched his trembling fist.
When he’d first heard that Sotae—one of their best—had lost to a mere seven-year-old from a study hall, he assumed it had been a fluke born of carelessness.
After all, Sotae was the most talented and capable of his peers. Once grown, he was expected to change the future of the Heukmyeong Hall.
But now…
Sotae is being pushed back?
Strictly speaking, he hadn’t lost yet. If this were a real battle, he would’ve been defeated when he failed to block that downward strike—but since it was a duel, it wasn’t over.
Through steady footwork and thrust-focused swordplay, Sotae was still keeping distance and preventing close combat.
He could still turn things around—but the fact that it had come to this point at all was shocking enough.
Where on earth did that kid come from?
Judging by his movement, he’d learned some martial arts but hadn’t practiced long. His footwork was unrefined, and apart from downward strikes, his sword technique was crude.
But if a boy like that were to enter the Heukmyeong Hall and receive proper training…
He might be the first martial artist from Gangseo to join the Murim Alliance.
The thought made Gwanju shake his head.
Given who the boy’s guardians were, it was unlikely they’d entrust him to Heukmyeong.
No true master would hand over their disciple to someone weaker.
So all he could hope for now was that Sotae would win here and now—because once that boy grew up among those monsters, Sotae would never defeat him again.
With both sides silently praying for victory, the balance of the fight began to tip.
Crash!
“Urgh…!”
Screech—tap!
Sotae was forced back after barely blocking another heavy strike.
It was unbelievable.
He was putting everything into dodging and defending, yet even these predictable attacks were becoming too heavy to block.
My arm…
His right arm trembled. He could hardly feel the wooden sword in his grip anymore.
He was reaching his limit.
Yet he didn’t despair—because he noticed something: his opponent’s wooden sword was falling apart.
“Huh…?”
Pyeong-ha looked down at his sword. The blade was chipped and cracked all over, ready to shatter with a few more swings.
In contrast, Sotae’s ebony sword remained completely intact.
“It’s an ebony wooden sword,” Sotae said coolly. “It’s nothing like the cheap wood you’re using. It won’t shatter against your brute strength this time.”
Confident words—sure of his victory.
But Pyeong-ha said nothing, lost in thought.
Then—
Swish.
He tucked the damaged sword into his waistband, clenched his freed fists, and lowered his stance.
“…You really don’t listen, do you?”
Slide.
“If you want to try, go ahead. I’ll prove that last time was just your luck.”
“Phew…”
Without replying, Pyeong-ha took a deep breath—and his eyes lit up as he charged straight toward Sotae.
Fwoosh!
“Idiot!”
He wasn’t dodging or using any fancy techniques—just charging head-on with his fists raised.
The sheer momentum was intimidating, but everyone knew what would happen if a bare fist met an ebony sword.
I’ll end this in one strike!
Despite his bravado, Sotae was near his limit too.
He had already taken several hits, barely staying on his feet.
When Pyeong-ha came within range, drawing back his fist, Sotae swung his sword horizontally at mid-level.
A downward strike might be dodged—but a horizontal swing would surely land.
The two attacks collided head-on.
Whish!
CRAAASH!
“What the—!”
The impact rang out like thunder, and Sotae’s right hand flew upward, nearly losing his grip on the sword.
Pyeong-ha’s punch had somehow accelerated just before impact—making it unbelievably heavy.
But his hand…!
No one could punch an ebony sword without injury.
As Sotae tried to recover his balance for a counterattack—
Step.
Pyeong-ha stepped in and slammed his left fist into Sotae’s abdomen.
Thud!
“Urgh…!”
Pain shot through him, folding him in half.
He clenched his teeth, refusing to collapse, and brought his sword down toward Pyeong-ha’s head.
Crash!
Pyeong-ha raised his left arm to block it. His face twitched slightly from the pain, but his bones held.
Got him!
With both of his opponent’s arms disabled, Sotae thought victory was within reach.
He quickly retreated, widening the distance to end things safely.
Pyeong-ha lunged after him—but by now, he was clearly out of range.
No way he could land a hit now—
Slide.
Pyeong-ha’s right hand suddenly reached for the hilt of the wooden sword tucked at his waist.
In one smooth motion, he drew and swung it vertically.
Whish!
CRACK!
“Gah—!”
A flash of motion.
The unexpected strike slammed into Sotae’s chin, sending him reeling.
Before he could regain balance, Pyeong-ha leapt up and raised his sword overhead.
“Yaaah!”
Sotae raised his sword horizontally to block the impending downward blow—
But instead of a slash, what struck his face was a thrust.
Thwack!
“Urgh…!”
The stab shattered his defense, and as Pyeong-ha landed, he swung once more—
Wham!
“—!”
Sotae’s body convulsed, eyes rolling back as he collapsed to the ground.
Thud.
Pyeong-ha had won.
