Chapter 249: Emergence of the Divine Dragon

“Waaaaaah!”

“Uwooooooh!”

A roar erupted, shaking the entire martial arts arena.

Of course, Qing's payout odds had been incredibly low this time too, sending countless dreams crashing into the abyss. But more significant than such monetary losses was the fact that the duel itself had been spectacular.

Wasn’t this a legendary duel they had witnessed, holding their breath as Qing’s sunset-hued True Qi blossomed in all directions, even glimpsing the brilliant golden Energy Aura/Projection with their own eyes?

They could boast about witnessing this thrilling match for the rest of their lives; a sense of pride swelled within them for having witnessed a monumental event of an era.

That’s right. It was a monumental event of an era.

A mere woman. And not from one of the Nine Great Sects, but a martial artist from a considerably lower-ranked middle-sect.

To emphasize again, a female martial artist!

A female martial artist from a middle-sect had defeated a disciple of the Greatest Under Heaven Shaolin, a disciple of the Greatest Under Heaven himself!

And there was more! Even more!

The Divine Maiden Sect was a sword sect, and Ximen Qing was a swordswoman!

A swordswoman who used swords had put away her blade and fought with fist and palm techniques, shattering Shaolin’s Divine Arts and defeating the disciple of the Greatest Under Heaven.

Of course, the finish had been a little unsatisfying, but in the eyes of the common folk, it looked like Qing, with her flashy evasions and long, graceful limbs, had overwhelmed the duel.

The perspective of the masters wasn’t much different either, so it was a result acknowledged by everyone in the world—except for one person, Wolbong.

Even as Qing disappeared from view, passing through the tunnel beneath the stage, the wildly excited cheers didn't subside. Hmm, she hadn’t cared much about the jeers, but maybe this felt pretty good after all.

“My disciple has always been excellent, but today you were even more so. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Of course not. You know how tough your disciple is—ack.”

Qing insisted she was fine, but ended with a sharp groan.

It was because Ximen Surin had poked her sharply in the chest with a finger.

“If it hurts, say it hurts. You foolish child, always insisting you’re fine.”

“Hehe, actually, while this side is weak to cuts and stabs, it’s strong against impacts, you know? It might just get bruised, but it actually acts as a shield, effectively defending against blows to the torso—”

Flick. Ximen Surin gave her a light flick on the head.

“Since you don’t seem particularly bothered, this Master can also rest easy. Anything can happen when martial artists fight. I was just going to tell you not to resent him, as aiming for the chest or face is only natural.”

Surprisingly, Ximen Surin held no particular ill feelings about Wolbong’s attacks targeting various parts of the body.

In fact, she had found his initial hesitation, cautiously avoiding vital points because she was female, even more annoying. Her stance was, how could he differentiate between man and woman when facing another martial artist?

That was why, when treated merely as a woman, Ximen Surin used to kick men squarely between the legs—the infamy of the Rabid Bitch was no empty rumor.

For this reason, when Wolbong had gotten serious, she had actually thought it was for the better, thinking he was a fellow with a proper mindset who acknowledged her disciple as a martial artist.

Of course, it turned out he simply hadn’t treated her as a woman because she was an ugly woman with a veiled face, making him an incredibly, incredibly annoying punk after all.

“Hmm. Let’s put on some makeup now. They should give time to wash and tidy up before the introductions, what’s the rush? Tsk tsk. Anyway, the Murim Alliance is full of nothing but men, so they lack finesse.”

Ximen Surin clicked her tongue.

The event following the semi-final match was an introduction of the martial artists who had advanced to the Hidden Dragon Tournament finals to the public.

The reason the participants in the Hidden Dragon Tournament had only been announced by their origin and name was to encourage focus on the duels themselves.

Therefore, before the finals, a stage was prepared for them to proudly reveal themselves to the world and elevate their names.

“Uh, do I really have to wear makeup? Since I’m appearing as a martial artist, shouldn’t I look like one—” Qing asked.

“As your Master has repeatedly told you, a master must be elegant and beautiful. Isn’t that what even that young brat monk said?” Ximen Surin countered.

Ximen Surin forcefully imposed the bearing of a beauty upon Qing.

Before a martial artist, there is no man or woman.

But there is beauty and ugliness.

No matter how great a master who held the world beneath their feet, if their appearance and conduct were ugly, they wouldn't be acknowledged. It was the same for men and women.

If he’s ugly, at least his martial arts must be outstanding. Born ugly, he probably had no relations with women and holed himself up out of shame, so he could focus solely on martial arts. Such were the mockeries they faced.

Although it was said not to discriminate between men and women, to be precise, female martial artists received far worse treatment.

Even an ugly man, if he became a master, could snag a beautiful wife, gather wealth and fame, and live comfortably.

But if an ugly woman became a master, it was common for her to simply live alone her entire life—because men didn’t want to live being beaten by their wives. It was tantamount to saying they intended to do things deserving of a beating from the start; such was the way of the world.

Ximen Surin took out her makeup tools and said,

“There. So shouldn’t you proudly show the world? That the next Greatest Under Heaven is such a beautiful woman.”

Wolbong couldn't lift his head.

He was flustered by Qing's beauty, and the surging Yang energy made him feel dizzy with shame. The words that came out were even more confusing and shameful.

“I apologize, Master. Due to my incompetence, this disciple has brought disgrace upon our martial school and Master’s name.”

At that, Venerable Monk Muhak roared with laughter.

“What nonsense is that, you punk? The one disgraced is you and your face. Why drag the perfectly fine Shaolin and your Master into it? Bwahahaha, I knew this would happen, you idiot.”

“Master?” Wolbong questioned.

“Just because you lost in martial arts and were defeated despicably as a human, does Shaolin relinquish its title as the Greatest Sect Under Heaven? Does the Divine Maiden Sect suddenly become the Greatest Sect Under Heaven? Does my level drop just because my disciple lost? I am still Muhak, the Greatest Under Heaven. The only one sullied is you; Shaolin and your Master are perfectly fine, you fool,” Muhak explained.

His words were true.

The person embarrassed was Wolbong; Muhak and Shaolin were not of a caliber to be shaken by something like this. No matter how fierce the wind blew, Mount Tai simply stood firm in its place.

“You were so arrogant, I figured you’d suffer a great humiliation someday. Why do we call sentient beings foolish? Isn’t it because they actually are foolish? The foolish don’t listen to words, so I kept quiet, letting you learn the hard way. How does it feel?” Muhak asked.

“It… It’s miserable and shameful…” Wolbong admitted.

“Well. Everyone carries a memory they wish to erase in their hearts. Enough. Go get ready to show that face of yours and greet the public. Tsk, that handprint on your head is quite vivid. Must have a heavy hand like her master…”

Indeed, the imprint of the palm Qing had struck him with was marked clearly from Wolbong's forehead across the crown of his head, like a brand.

“Master, how can I face the public after showing such disgraceful behavior? I am afraid. I’m so afraid people will mock and ridicule me.”

“Punk, it’s no big deal. You think a guy who’ll live for over fifty more years will have his monk’s life stained by disgrace over just this? Once it passes, it’ll just be a funny memory. You should recall it often and blame your own shortcomings,” Muhak advised.

“But.”

“Well. That girl’s beauty is certainly extraordinary, so… Kuhuhu, Bwahahaha!!! Mara! Didn’t you call her Mara?! What a masterpiece! Mara Papiyas! What makes you think you’re some living Buddha like Shakyamuni himself that the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven would personally descend to tempt you! Bwahaha!”

Even if Mara were to tempt someone, he would only make a personal appearance for someone of Shakyamuni Buddha’s stature. Why would he descend just to tempt a young Martial Monk from Shaolin?

Venerable Monk Muhak burst into laughter.

At this, the other high-ranking monks of Shaolin also laughed or smiled, sneering in any case, leaving Wolbong alone and utterly lost.

“That’s why I say you’re arrogant. Besides, when a person does wrong, they ought to be embarrassed. Go and be thoroughly embarrassed. A man can make a slip of the tongue. Besides, well, that girl’s beauty is indeed unusual, so maybe, just maybe, the public might understand your feelings, possibly.”

The long, questioning tone at the end was a way of saying, ‘if not, oh well.’

With his Master’s attitude like this, the wildfire-like surge of Wolbong’s shame also died down.

“Go change your clothes. Don’t even think about hiding under a bamboo hat. It’d be more disgraceful if the patrons seated right below get a clear view and spread rumors, so it’s better to just show it.”

At that, Wolbong left to tidy his clothes, his shoulders slumped.

Only then did Venerable Monk Muhak’s expression turn serious as he muttered to himself.

Hmm. Anyway, the Buddha Palm. What on earth should I offer to match the value of such a Divine Art? I might mistakenly commit the folly of putting a price on a priceless treasure…

As soon as the duel between Qing and Wolbong ended, people immediately jumped to their feet.

Next was the introduction of the heroes of the Hidden Dragon Tournament, and these were people who had bought seats on the floating arena stage for a closer look.

The Murim Alliance, naturally being an organization in need of funds, showed a frugal side, diligently milking every opportunity to earn money.

Murim Alliance warriors directed people, calling out ‘A-seats’ and ‘B-seats,’ so despite the complexity of the event, the floating arena stage filled up steadily without commotion.

Of course, this was by no means due to the outstanding sense of order among the people of the Central Plains, but because the Murim Alliance staff members were carrying swords.

Listening well to those carrying swords was a virtue of this barbaric era.

Thus, starting with the most expensive prime seats closest to the introduction stage (standing room only, of course), the area filled up neatly.

People without money, or those who didn’t see the need to watch up close, simply observed from the main arena stands.

However, even they were thinking that, having come all this way to watch, they should have spent some money to go down there.

They were just too curious about the beauty of the Divine Maiden Sect disciple who had managed to bewitch even a Shaolin monk.

Finally, the eliminated contestants began to appear, starting with the earliest ones, introducing the hidden dragons of the tournament to the public.

It wasn't just their origin and name, but also their age, area of activity and history, any moniker they had, the history of their martial school if they belonged to one, and the name of their master if they had one.

As a result, the introductions for those originating as Wanderers tended to be a bit sparse, but it was also true that Wanderers generally didn't have much of a story to boast about.

Wang Nopil and Ma Yeongjeon, having at least made it to the quarterfinals, came up much later.

As the four quarterfinal losers stood side-by-side, Wang Nopil and Ma Yeongjeon glanced at each other and shook their heads.

Originally, the Wanderers had conferred and decided to use this opportunity to tell the public a slightly fabricated story involving the Blood Cult.

Saying Young Lady Ximen had been captured in their stead could lead to scandals, even if it was only for one night. So, they planned to omit the unfavorable parts and instead elevate her name with a tale of her courage in saving the foolish Wanderers and her valor in defeating the wicked Blood Cult members.

After coordinating their story, they sought permission from Ximen Surin, asking if publicizing it this way wouldn’t cause any harm to Young Lady Ximen.

However, they were told not to do anything unnecessary and received a harsh head flick each, so they ended up dropping the matter entirely.

Next up were the semi-final losers, Wolbong, and appearing alongside him, as luck would have it, was the most handsome man under heaven, the Jade Qilin.

Shrill screams shook heaven and earth, and people winced, complaining of ringing ears. Of course, women fainting in droves also occurred frequently.

“Jade Qilin! I love you!”

“Jade Qilin! You’re so handsome!”

“Jade Qilin! Take my body and soul!”

The content was pure devotion, but the sounds were ear-splitting shrieks, making even Wolbong, standing nearby, shudder.

Feeling an obsession bordering on ghostly malice rather than mere affection, Wolbong glanced sideways to see if Young Expert Peng was alright.

Apparently, he wasn't; he was grinding his teeth, frowning deeply.

After the introduction of Peng Daesan, who had fought earlier, it was Wolbong’s turn.

Twenty-seven years old this year.

The youngest Luohan monk in Shaolin Temple.

A young master of Shaolin whose master is the Greatest Under Heaven, Venerable Monk Muhak!

At the announcer’s cry, cheers of “Waaah!” swept through the venue.

At this, Wolbong’s deeply hunched shoulders straightened just a little.

“Haha, looks like you got a handprint stamped on your head instead of a proper seal!”

“‘I forfeit!’ ‘If I use up all my internal energy, I’ll have to forfeit!’”

“Hehe! ‘Now I shall do my best!’”

Of course, there were mocking voices mixed in, but for Wolbong, who had trembled in fear of merely standing blankly amidst a shower of jeers in great humiliation before returning, it was a tolerable level.

And then, finally, it was time for the much-anticipated finalists to make their appearance.