Chapter 223: Hidden Dragon Tournament

“Hmm. So, who do you think will win?”

“Young Master Wang seems quite rich in practical experience, but can he really compare to a direct disciple of one of the Nine Great Sects? Especially someone like Bong Sain of the Kunlun Sect.”

Bong Sain was a Kunlun Sect disciple of the ‘Bong’ generation, whose moniker was the Jade Tear Sword. It was said he was so sensitive he cried when happy, cried when sad, and even cried just seeing someone else sad, hence the name.

“Is that so?” Qing asked. “Excuse me, what are the odds?”

“For Young Master Wang, it’s 78.9. For Daoist Bong Sain, it’s 1.1.”[^The odds mentioned (78.9 to 1 and 1.1 to 1) reflect payout multipliers. 1.1 means betting 1 yields 1.1 back (0.1 profit), indicating a heavy favorite. 78.9 means betting 1 yields 78.9 back (77.9 profit), indicating a huge underdog. The 'ri' unit corresponds to very low multipliers (0.00x profit).] the merchant replied.

“Hmm. Then give me one silver sycee on Young Master Wang,” Qing decided.

She bought a Victory Token for Young Master Wang.

Zhuge Ihyeon immediately objected.

“Sister, why waste a whole silver sycee buying a Victory Token for a martial artist who’s obviously going to lose?”

“Isn’t this just for fun anyway?” Qing countered. “Betting on Daoist Bong Sain would only net you, what, ten wen in coins? But if Young Master Wang happens to win, who knows, you might win just under seven silver sycee.”

“Doesn’t that sound like the perfect way to go broke?” Zhuge Ihyeon retorted.

“Well, it’s not like I’m betting a fortune…” Qing trailed off.

And so, the bout began.

Surprisingly, the martial arts employing the chair looked quite effective.

It wasn’t a typical square stool, but rather a long, horizontal bench, the kind used for two people at a carriage relay station. The edges of the seat were reinforced with iron plates, and the legs were sparsely wrapped with wire.

The way he wielded the custom chair was truly a union of offense and defense. He blocked attacks while simultaneously thrusting out with the chair legs, tripping, spinning, pushing, targeting joints, or striking fiercely with the iron-plated corners.

Bong Sain was constantly forced back, barely managing to fend off the attacks. Young Master Wang clearly had the upper hand.

“What gives? He’s fighting pretty well,” Zhuge Ihyeon commented, surprised.

“I didn’t realize he was hiding that level of skill,” Qing agreed. “However, the true power of Kunlun has yet to be revealed. Above all, how can one discuss victory or defeat against a Kunlun Sect martial artist without considering their Movement Technique, swift as a dragon roaming the treacherous Kunlun Mountains freely?”

“Hmm. Is it that impressive…?” Zhuge Ihyeon wondered aloud.

The bout grew increasingly fierce, lasting for over thirty exchanges.

Qing spoke again. “So, when exactly is this ‘true power’ going to be revealed?”

“Ahem. My apologies,” Zhuge Ihyeon mumbled.

His insight might have been top-tier among muscleheads, but it seemed he couldn’t overcome the limitations of being a musclehead after all.

Thwack! Daoist Bong Sain’s sword lodged firmly into the center of the chair. Young Master Wang twisted the chair forcefully, pushing back. Unable to withstand the pressure, the sword snapped in two.

“Victor, Wang Bang from Nanning!” the announcer declared.

The crowd’s reactions were mixed with cheers and groans.

If Qing’s match result was the biggest upset of the tournament, this bout was the second, meaning many people had once again lost hefty sums betting on the Victory Tokens.

“See?” Qing said smugly. “Betting against the odds is the orthodox way. Look, I made seven silver sycee just sitting here.”

“To be precise, it’s not seven silver sycee, but six silver sycee and eighty-nine wen, Sister,” Zhuge Ihyeon corrected.

“Zhuge-ah. How pathetic. Learn to accept defeat,” Qing teased.

Zhuge Ihyeon let out a frustrated sigh. “Argh! How can human intellect lose to beastly wildness!”

“Zhuge-ah, you should thank Xiang,” Qing warned. “If she weren’t here, I’d have given you a truly beastly smackdown.”

“Hmph. So you’ve finally realized why I specifically brought Zhuge Xia— Ack!” Zhuge Ihyeon started, but was cut off.

“You’re really asking for it,” Qing said, flicking his head.

“Ow! How can you strike the top of my head with such a fierce blow from this angle…!” he yelped.

It was thanks to her Lithe Grace Refinement training reaching the second star of achievement. As her joint mobility increased, the angles of attack and elevation for her Ximen Surin-style Concussive Flick had expanded remarkably.

Right, I guess enduring the pain was worth something after all.

Besides discovering the weaknesses of the White Hand Demonic Arts, there were indeed other benefits. Qing’s beautiful white hands were sturdy enough to remain unharmed even when hammering a chisel, but they were helpless against joint locks.

Right, the next training session is in seven days…

The light slowly faded from Qing’s eyes. No matter how good the martial art was, that kind of torture… no, it wasn’t like torture, it was torture. Moreover, it was exquisite torture, calculated to avoid permanent disability, only half-breaking the joints and tearing the tendons about eighty percent, just enough so they barely held together.

“Sister?” Zhuge Ihyeon’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Ah. Oh. Yeah. What?” Qing replied, startled.

“Are you going to bet against the odds again this time?” he asked.

While Qing had been momentarily shuddering, several bouts had passed. Now, it was a match between a disciple from the Gosan Sect and another unaffiliated martial artist, Young Master Wu.

“Of course,” Qing declared. “Once a man makes a decision, he must forge straight ahead. Hey you,” she called to a nearby merchant, “one silver sycee on Young Master Wu.”

And Zhuge Ihyeon lost again.

“They call you the Beastly Sage, but maybe you need to cultivate some beastly courage too?” Qing taunted. “You hesitate so much, weighing this and that, no wonder you can’t win.”

“Urgh…! Such humiliation…!” Zhuge Ihyeon groaned.

As the tournament progressed, Qing noticed that the martial artists from the Righteous Faction were indeed quite virtuous. Those identifying themselves as from a certain sect or clan generally had single-digit Good Karma scores, or if they had Bad Karma, it never exceeded fifty points.

However, the unaffiliated martial artists who had passed the preliminaries typically had Bad Karma scores in the high double digits, just shy of triple digits. By Qing’s own standards, they weren’t quite villains, but perhaps they could be considered potential villains-in-training.

“Wait,” Qing mused aloud, “wasn’t this tournament only for young martial artists from the Righteous Faction? Did they just accept anyone who studied alone if they applied?”

“What are you talking about?” Zhuge Ihyeon replied. “Even if these martial artists have no affiliation, they are renowned for their righteousness in their respective regions. They are proven righteous figures who have passed strict verification.”

“Really…?” Qing questioned silently. Their Bad Karma seems a bit high for that, doesn’t it?

Of course, others couldn't see Bad Karma as a precise number like Qing could.

The tournament continued its streak of upsets. The unaffiliated martial artists (one could call them wanderers, but the term 'wanderer', while not exactly derogatory, carried a somewhat negative connotation) who had broken through the preliminaries continued to win.

This also meant Zhuge Ihyeon kept losing, along with many others who had tried to make easy money by betting safely. Thanks to this, the atmosphere in the venue grew increasingly gloomy, with people scattered about looking utterly lost, some on the verge of tears.

Eventually, it was the Shaolin disciple Wolbong’s turn to fight.

“Sister, you’ll bet against him this time too, right?” Zhuge Ihyeon asked hopefully.

“Hmm. Maybe.” Qing flagged down a passing Victory Token merchant. “Excuse me. What are the current odds?”

“For Monk Wolbong, it’s three ri—” the merchant began.

“What? Three ri?” Qing interrupted, surprised.

Three ri, in the style of Qing’s homeland, was equivalent to 1.003 odds—a pitifully stingy payout where betting ten thousand wen would earn you a mere thirty wen.

“My apologies, it’s eight ri,” the merchant corrected himself. “Young Master Son from Xinchuan has odds of 820 hal (82 times payout). How about taking this chance to turn your life around?”

“No thanks,” Qing declined.

Betting against the odds was one thing, but there was no reason to bet on a fight with such impossible odds. So few people were betting on Young Master Son that the Victory Token merchant let out a deep sigh, his slumped shoulders looking pathetic as he trudged away.

“Hmm. These odds are insane,” Qing remarked.

“Well, a Shaolin monk of the ‘Wol’ generation means he’s a disciple of Great Monk Muhak,” Zhuge Ihyeon explained. “It’s only natural when the disciple of the Greatest Under Heaven steps up. So, are you not betting on Young Master Son this time?”

“Master told me he’d be my opponent in the semi-finals,” Qing stated plainly. “That means he’s guaranteed to make it that far. But it feels pointless buying a Victory Token just to win eight ri.”

Zhuge Ihyeon’s expression soured. “Sister, how can you speak two different ways with one mouth? You clearly said that once a man makes a decision… Augh, urgh…!” He gritted his teeth in frustration.

“Hmph. Still got a long way to go, kiddo,” Qing scoffed. “Didn’t you fall for this once back in Luoyang? I seem recall saying something similar then.”

“That time it was Peng who fell for it, not me,” Zhuge Ihyeon protested.

“Still, doesn’t that mean you saw it happen but learned nothing?” Qing shot back.

“Kugh…!” Zhuge Ihyeon pretended to be frustrated again.

Just then, the Shaolin disciple Wolbong appeared in the arena. Cheers erupted from all sides.

—All martial arts under heaven originated from Shaolin!
—The disciple of Great Monk Muhak!
—The successor to the Greatest Under Heaven!

Qing felt a flicker of irritation. What gives? When I came out, nobody said anything, and then they just booed me after I won.

Separately, there were hardly any high-pitched shrieks from the women in the crowd. Qing figured the monk’s characteristic bald head probably played a large role in that.

As the odds indicated, the outcome was practically predetermined from the start, making it less of a bout and more like a guided sparring session. Using only basic techniques, Wolbong easily closed the distance and established optimal range for his fist and palm arts. He would then deliberately relinquish the advantageous distance he’d painstakingly gained, stepping back to give his opponent a chance to display their skills out of consideration.

Hadn’t Ximen Surin specifically instructed him to exchange at least ten moves before settling the match? Thus, Qing’s reconnaissance efforts were fruitless. From what Qing could see, the lines drawn by his martial arts were primarily straight and direct.

“Very straightforward,” Qing observed.

“‘All martial arts under heaven originated from Shaolin,’” Zhuge Ihyeon quoted. “Since Shaolin is said to have laid the foundation for all martial studies, isn’t it natural for the fundamentals of their martial arts to be like that? Stronger, faster, more efficient.”

“But the first martial art was the Yue Maiden Sword Technique,” Qing countered. “So shouldn’t the foundation be the Yue Maiden Sword? Why Shaolin?”

“Isn’t the Yue Maiden Sword Technique merely a mimicry of form, lacking the true essence?” Zhuge Ihyeon explained. “It would be more accurate to call it the first martial skill rather than the first martial art.”

When the Yue Maiden taught the Yue Maiden Sword Technique to the soldiers of Yue, the concept of martial arts, let alone martial studies, hadn’t even taken shape in the world. Therefore, they could only roughly copy the outward appearance without understanding the function and purpose of the movements. Even so, the soldiers of Yue gained the combat prowess to overwhelm their enemies, each becoming worth a hundred men. This marked the first appearance of the term ‘sword techniques’ or ‘swordsmanship’ in history.

Even now, the Yue Maiden Sword Technique was one of the easiest martial arts manuals to obtain. Of course, it was merely a Third-Rate imitation, completely different from the true version Qing had learned.

Meanwhile, Wolbong neatly concluded the bout in fifteen exchanges.

Zhuge Ihyeon evaluated Wolbong’s performance. “I thought this might be a rare chance to witness Shaolin’s martial arts, but it ended up being settled with just the Six Harmonies Fist. Truly disappointing.”

“Six Harmonies Fist?” Qing asked. “The one they sell in the marketplace?”

She had also learned the Six Harmonies Fist. She had casually learned the easily obtainable, white-bordered martial arts because they were cheap, and the commonplace Six Harmonies Fist was among them.

“Since it’s Shaolin’s Six Harmonies, it’s naturally far more refined and profound,” Zhuge Ihyeon clarified. “However, the widely circulated Six Harmonies Fist originated from Shaolin’s version, so the form wouldn’t be drastically different.”

He added that almost all the common fist and palm techniques easily found in the market were watered-down versions derived from the basic techniques known as the Seventy-Two Shaolin Fist Arts. The saying, ‘All martial arts under heaven originated from Shaolin,’ was, at least concerning fist and palm techniques—meaning for pugilists—an undeniable fact.

“Hmm. So, in the end, I didn’t get to see any real top-tier stuff,” Qing concluded. “Guess I’ll have to face him myself to find out more.”

She ultimately didn’t get to witness any of the advanced techniques Zhuge Ihyeon had listed in his commentary on the Shaolin Temple. Luohan Divine Fist, White Lotus Divine Fist, Kasaya Demon-Subduing Fist, Eighteen Luohan Palms, Great Strength Vajra Palm, Hundred Step Divine Fist, Finger Flicking Divine Skill, Vajra Finger, Nine Grades of Lotus Platform, and so on—where were all the purple-ranked Absolute Studies of Divine Arts she had looked up? All she saw was the measly Six Harmonies Fist.

Thus concluded the second day of the Hidden Dragon Tournament, marking the end of the round of sixty-four. Tournaments like this weren't about continuous, frantic fighting that prevented proper display of skill, so the schedule tended to be somewhat relaxed.

The next round, the round of thirty-two, would take place in four days, all in a single day. Until then, she figured she could diligently wear the painful clothes, spar, and get accustomed to the sensations. By now, everyone should have had some time to deal with family matters, so perhaps it was time for the members of the Half-Sword Twin Saber Society to get together again.

(T/N: Hey there! 👋

Noticed a bunch of you are reading—thank you! 💖
I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter.
Drop a comment below and let me know what you think! )