Chapter 205: Let's Hold a Spar

If one resolves to steal, succeeding is the mark of a Divine Thief.

But how does one steal another's disciple?

Of course, one could steal them physically.

Kidnap them, imprison them in a cave on a sheer cliff deep in some remote mountains so they can't escape, and taunt, ‘Heehee, you can’t leave until you’ve learned everything!’ That was one way.

However, firstly, the target would need to be weak enough to be kidnapped, but seeing as her Lightness Skill had already reached the First-Rate Realm, there was no way to prevent her escape in the first place.

Secondly, if it were a man, doing so might eventually open his heart and enthrall him with the words ‘Divine Thief’. But doing that to a woman? Wouldn’t that make one not a Divine Thief, but a Sex Thief, a Public Enemy of Murim?

One might somehow manage to pass on the martial arts, but the long-standing legacy of the Divine Thief would end right there.

Therefore, what needed to be stolen was not the disciple's body, but her heart.

So, one must steal the heart of the still-young child and make her serve two masters.

After all, didn't the previous Divine Thief pretend his past didn't exist, acting all dignified as a respected elder of a famous martial sect whose name everyone knew?

Being a Divine Thief wasn't a full-time job; it was a side hustle!

Thus, the Divine Thief recalled his own Master.

What did his Master say when trying to recruit him?

“Child, have you ever wanted to become the Greatest Under Heaven…?”

“Yes! I’ll do it!”

“Ahem, at least hear me out…”

“I know! You’re going to teach me martial arts, right?!”

Because the Divine Thief came from humble origins, the moment the sword-bearing Daoist spoke to him, he had followed him immediately.

Thinking back, that wasn't helpful at all.

Hmm…

Then, how should I tempt her?

The Divine Thief blinked.

The fifteenth day of the Fifth Month.

Ten days before the Murim Conference was set to begin, the preliminary rounds of the Hidden Dragon Tournament commenced.

Of course, this had nothing to do with Qing.

This was because outstanding talents whose skills were already proven would bypass the preliminaries and start directly from the main tournament.

The preliminaries were merely a stage for disciples of minor sects or young, unknown martial artists to compete for the few remaining spots in the main tournament.

Participants from the Nine Great Sects, One Union, and the Ten Great Clans automatically started from the main tournament, along with others judged by the Murim Alliance as not needing preliminary screening.

In truth, it was purely based on connections.

However, there was no need to lament, ‘Ah, the Murim Alliance is so corrupt.’

In fact, this arrangement was better even from the perspective of the preliminary participants.

Imagine stepping onto the tournament stage, full of ambition to make a name for oneself, only to find a Shaolin disciple standing imposingly on the other side. How unfair and sorrowful would that be?

Since reaching the main tournament alone could earn one a plausible moniker, it was better to face relatively unknown peers, avoiding the Successors / Rising Generation who had mastered formidable divine arts.

And those privileged enough to have already secured a spot in the main tournament were also satisfied. They could scout the noteworthy individuals competing beforehand, thus preventing the misfortune of being defeated by an unknown figure right at the start.

Just like now.

"They say he uses the rare Ground Fist Technique," Peng Daesan remarked.

"Ground Fist Technique? The one where you lie on the ground? Zhuge-ah?" Qing asked.

At Qing's official request for commentary, Zhuge Ihyeon eagerly elaborated.

"Ah, big-sis!" Zhuge Ihyeon began. "The Ground Fist Technique... well, to explain it, I must first talk about the fundamental nature of martial arts..."

The basic characteristic of martial arts, he explained, begins with Footwork, with the center of gravity shifting from the soles of the feet, culminating in explosive destructive power at the tip of the weapon.

Therefore, martial arts are fundamentally performed standing up. One could call it stand-up fighting.

So, when a martial artist falls, the response is either to get up immediately or to roll away to create distance before getting up.

In contrast, martial arts classified under the Ground Fist Technique presupposed lying on the ground.

It was, so to speak, a prone martial art.

Martial arts were created to fight people, and surprisingly, almost no martial art included forms specifically for attacking an opponent lying on the ground.

Furthermore, since the center of gravity in Ground Fist Techniques is practically glued to the ground, targeting the opponent's lower body below the waist, it's difficult to counter.

"Then isn't it a really powerful method?" Qing asked. "My Master never taught me anything like that. Only warned me to be careful of guys who fight lying down."

"Hmm. Firstly, very few people learn it. It doesn't look very good, you see," Zhuge Ihyeon replied. "You know how important face is in the martial arts world. People mock you for being like a donkey just for rolling on the ground a few times. That's why the Ground Fist Technique is also called the Dog Fist Technique."

It used the character gou (狗), meaning dog, the same one used in the Tagu-bong (dog-beating stick).

Dog Fist Technique meant it was a martial art fit only for dogs.

"Hmph. Who cares about face when it's life or death?" Qing scoffed. "Everyone talks like that but rolls around just fine when they need to. Ah, what are the odds here? Young Master Ma is four to one plus seven wen? Then give me one silver sycee on Young Master Ma."

Just then, someone selling Victory Tokens passed by, and Qing purchased one with fluid ease.

Victory Tokens were for betting on matches. You paid money for them, and if you guessed correctly, you received a payout based on the odds.

Since the primitive, unenlightened ancient Central Plains hadn't yet established laws against gambling and lotteries, trading companies would bid for the rights to officially run betting operations before such tournaments.

Qing accepted the Victory Token and commented.

"Four to one plus seven wen… they must think his odds are really low? Is the Ground Fist Technique really that threatening?"

Peng Daesan snorted.

"I said it was threatening, not powerful. Yet you bet on such low odds?"

"The underdog bet is always the real favorite, isn't it?" Qing countered. "Anyway, a fight is either win or lose, a fifty-fifty chance, right? If it's a fifty-fifty chance, and I win, I get over three silver sycee back. If I lose, I lose one silver sycee. Isn't the person who doesn't bet the one losing out?"

Peng Daesan started to retort, "...How is that fifty-fifty—"

"Oh, it's starting," Qing interrupted.

Peng Daesan lost his chance to argue as the loud clang of a gong signaled the start of the match.

The match was between Young Master Ma, the user of the Ground Fist Technique, and Young Master Seong, a disciple of the Hwacheon Sect from somewhere in the Central Plains.

Young Master Ma's Ground Fist Technique wasn't as unsightly as expected, at first.

He primarily used kicking techniques rarely seen in martial arts, launching himself into the air, soaring gracefully, and bringing his feet together.

It was an excellent flying kick.

As Young Master Seong staggered from the solid blow to his chest, Young Master Ma landed on the ground with a breakfall, then, spinning his lower body like a windmill, pushed himself up with his arms and continued his kicks.

Ooh, B-boying[^break dancing], Qing inwardly exclaimed in the language of her homeland for the first time in a while. Does this guy know how to break dance?

"Hmm. It's surprisingly cool, isn't it?" she commented aloud.

"Is that what you call cool?" Peng Daesan scoffed.

"Looks cool to me... Oh, ooh."

Qing's eyes sparkled as she watched Young Master Ma's performance—no, his Ground Fist Technique.

To her modern sensibilities, it looked rather stylish, perhaps because similar dance moves existed in her homeland, and grappling ground techniques in fighting sports made it seem less awkward.

"That's because you haven't seen it performed properly," Peng Daesan said dismissively.

"Why? It doesn't look too bad— Hmm."

Suddenly, Young Master Ma's movements changed drastically.

He spread his arms and legs wide, planting them on the ground, his stomach almost touching the floor.

His limbs flailed bizarrely, the speed making it look even stranger.

He practically crawled, scurrying around rapidly, then flipped over into a spider-like posture, targeting Young Master Seong's shin and the back of his knee. He spun like a swallow, kicking, tripping, and striking, the distinction between arms and legs blurring.

Honestly, it was rather… ugly.

"...Hmm. Okay, that's a bit much," Qing conceded.

"Told you so."

Peng Daesan let out a 'pfft' sound, his expression saying 'I knew it'.

Many in the audience were already bursting into laughter or snickering coldly.

Especially the part where he lay with his back on the ground, propelling himself rapidly forward with his legs while flailing his arms.

It was truly a spectacle one might never witness again in their lifetime.

Finally, the match was decided.

Young Master Seong, defeated by the unsightly martial art, couldn't even lift his head as he walked off, tears streaming down his face.

Young Master Ma, despite winning, had garnered plenty of ridicule, making his victory ambiguous at best.

Thus, the true winner was Ximen Qing, who had turned one silver liang into four liang and seventy copper wen.

The ultimate victor announced her thoughts.

"But, I'm not confident I could beat him if we fought. In a real fight, I'd kill him instantly, though."

Pressed flat against the ground like that, one shot of the Heavenly Demon Overlord Step could rupture his internal organs.

But in a sparring match where one had to subdue the opponent without injuring them, she couldn't quite figure out a method.

"It looks complicated at first glance, but doesn't he ultimately target limited areas?" Peng Daesan offered. "He tries to sweep the feet or push the back of the knees to trip you. If you keep that in mind, he shouldn't be an opponent you lack confidence against."

"That's right, big-sis," Zhuge Ihyeon added. "Many of those strange movements are just distractions. If you discern the feints from the real attacks until the end, he shouldn't be a difficult opponent for someone of your level."

Qing scratched her cheek.

"Well. I'm a bit weak in that area."

"Weak?" Peng Daesan asked.

"Aish, do I really have to spell it out?" Qing sighed. "I can't see anything right below me, okay?"

At that, Peng Daesan and Zhuge Ihyeon's gazes simultaneously dropped to a certain spot before they awkwardly looked away, pretending to admire some non-existent distant mountain.

Qing's blind spot directly beneath her was significantly larger than most people's.

"Still, I'm glad I saw it beforehand," Qing said. "If I'd faced him without knowing, I probably would've lost helplessly. It was worth coming to watch. Are there any other matches I should keep an eye on?"

"There are said to be a few martial artists who use Unusual Weapons," Peng Daesan suggested. "A chair, an abacus, an iron pen. It might be good to see them once."

"A chair? Like, a chair you sit on?"

"Yes. That chair."

"I can't quite picture it."

The only way Qing could imagine using a chair was perhaps a folding chair—not yet invented in the Central Plains—to whack someone heartily.

"Big-sis," Zhuge Ihyeon reasoned, "even if they're Unusual Weapons, they're nothing special. They're tricky only because we're unfamiliar with them. If they were truly powerful, wouldn't they have become mainstream long ago?"

"That's true," Qing agreed. "There's a reason everyone uses swords."

There was a reason martial artists primarily used swords and sabers. Excluding large weapons like long spears and crescent blades, whose development was stunted by interference from the Authorities, other peculiar weapons were just that—peculiar.

And so, after returning to Mucheon Pavilion and spending the remaining time diligently sparring, completing a fulfilling day, it was time for bed.

Only then did Qing realize a crucial fact.

Her Bokshinjeok had been stolen!

In its place, tucked into her belt, was a lacquered wooden flute she had never seen before. Pulling it out by the end sticking out revealed a letter written on thin cloth.

— I shall hold onto the Bokshinjeok for a while.
I will be waiting at Yeohui Tower around Yu hour (5-7 PM). Could you come alone?
However, I bear no ill will. If you are truly concerned, you may reveal the destination and purpose to others.

"Hmm. I only just saw this..."

Yu hour was roughly around six in the evening.

And right now, it was late Haesi (9-11 PM), almost eleven at night, just before bedtime.

Since Qing had no use for the Bokshinjeok, she merely kept it tucked at her side like an ornament and paid it no attention.

Only when she went to put it aside before sleeping did some strange flute end up in her hand instead of the Bokshinjeok.

What should I do? Should I go now?

But it was already late at night.

Since the note said there was no ill will, perhaps they would contact her again in a different way to meet?

"Miss Ximen? Is something wrong?"

Gongson Yoye, who had been sparring with her from evening until now, called out to her.

Well, it's out of my hands now. What good would fretting do?

They'll probably contact me again.

Forcibly shaking off her worry, Qing feigned nonchalance.

"It's nothing. Ahh, I trained so hard again today, I'm already getting sleepy. Let's sleep."

Incidentally, the Divine Thief waited.

And waited. All night long, wondering if she might come under the cover of darkness, avoiding others' eyes.