Regression of the Yong Clan Heir

Chapter 135: Entangled Martial Duel (3)

Hearing Yong Hwarin’s words, Pang Giyok smiled faintly.

“You’re showing your usual habits again, Hwarin. No one can match you when it comes to getting under someone’s skin before a fight.”

It was a tactic Yong Hwarin often used—psychological warfare—frequently heard during battles with the warriors of the Blood Demon Castle back in the Bamboo Forest.

“Die!”

Eom An shouted in fury and unleashed a storm of deadly strikes.

Yet, his eyes remained calm and composed.

In such situations, if one acted as though they had fallen for the provocation, it would cause the opponent to drop their guard instead.

Yong Hwarin smiled as he observed Eom An.

‘He’s got a brain, no doubt. I’d better not show any openings.’

Eom An swung his saber infused with saber qi, but Yong Hwarin neither blocked nor clashed with it; he simply deflected the blade.

Instead, he stabbed his sword toward the openings Eom An inadvertently left.

Each time, Eom An flinched and retreated.

‘The way he recklessly uses saber qi… He must be quite confident in his internal energy.’

Eom An steadied himself with renewed composure and swung his saber again.

However, for some reason, Yong Hwarin only placed his sword near the saber to deflect or redirect it—never engaging it head-on.

Gradually, Eom An’s internal energy started to deplete.

Spectators found the battle dull.

Yong Hwarin dodged the saber and stabbed with his sword, while Eom An parried—too repetitive to be exciting.

In fact, Eom An’s earlier duel with Namgung Soomyung had been far more intense and gripping.

Only those who had attained a certain level of martial insight sensed something unusual in their exchanges.

‘If I hadn’t gained insight from Master Namgung Bi, I would’ve ended up just like Namgung Soomyung.’

Eom An’s internal energy was formidable, and if Yong Hwarin had clashed directly, he would have suffered serious damage.

Feeling like he was swinging at thin air, Eom An stepped back.

“Hahaha! What kind of man only dodges?”

“I was just toying with you! Seeing you made it into the Six Six Demonic Fiends with such mediocre saber techniques, I guess the Demonic Path isn’t that impressive after all.”

“What did you say?!”

Eom An, overcome with rage, forgot Yong Hwarin was provoking him.

Enraged to the point his hair stood on end, Eom An poured all his internal energy into his saber and charged.

“I’ll chop you to pieces!”

But his saber didn’t even graze Yong Hwarin’s robes—slicing through empty air repeatedly.

Having grasped the non-contention in flowing water principle, Yong Hwarin could now perceive the path of the saber's trajectory.

The moment he realized there was more than one path, he began to see the changes in Eom An’s techniques.

‘So this is what true “Insight into Form” is.’

The Demonic Master's Insight into Form was a similar concept.

It was about recognizing the path of techniques through extensive martial knowledge, years of experience, and cultivation.

Now, Yong Hwarin could see the trajectory of techniques without relying on the Demonic Master’s method.

As a result, he began to enjoy Eom An’s attacks.

“Doesn’t it seem like Young Master Yong’s Soaring Dragon Emperor Sword has changed a bit?”

Jeong Suji asked Jeong Minji, who nodded in response.

“It does. The form seems to have changed a lot.”

“It’s a bit playful and even kind of ridiculous.”

Jeong Suji’s comment made Jeong Minji stare intently at Yong Hwarin.

Thanks to Eom An, Yong Hwarin was able to review and verify the insights he gained the previous night, and he was thankful for it.

Had Eom An not been such a skilled opponent, he might not have fully internalized his newfound understanding.

“I should finish this.”

Yong Hwarin guided the energy of the Three Qi Pools into his Tai Chi Dantian, infused it into his sword, and thrust toward Eom An’s chest.

Almost reflexively, Eom An pushed the sword away with his saber.

Wuuuung!

As the sword and saber clashed, a massive force struck the saber, nearly tearing Eom An’s hand apart—he lost his grip.

The saber, robbed of strength, flew up into the air.

Until now, he had never once lost his weapon during a fight.

That’s how confident he had been in his internal energy.

As Eom An launched himself to retrieve his airborne saber, Yong Hwarin released the Black Silk Technique coiled around his left forearm and struck the saber’s body.

The saber flipped in mid-air, slicing through Eom An’s wrist just as he reached for the hilt.

Slice!

Eom An looked down at his wrist at the sudden sting.

A thin red line formed, and blood began to seep out.

Clang!

Thud!

The saber hit the ground—and so did his severed wrist.

Eom An stared blankly at the wrist, as if it belonged to someone else.

Though he had severed the wrists of dozens of opponents, it had never once occurred to him that his own might be cut off.

Shiiiiiiik!

A moment later, blood gushed from the wound with a loud hiss.

From behind, his fellow disciple Jeo Un rushed in, quickly sealed the pressure point on Eom An’s right shoulder, and stopped the bleeding.

Until then, not a single person in the audience had uttered a word.

Watching the infamous “Severing Demon Saber” Eom An—the one known for severing others’ wrists—lose his own left them speechless.

Eom An gritted his teeth through the pain of his severed wrist.

“One day…”

As he sent a glare filled with hatred, Yong Hwarin replied calmly,

“Come find me anytime.”

Jeo Un picked up the fallen wrist and quickly left with Eom An—less than two minutes had passed.

Only after they disappeared did the crowd erupt in excitement, recounting the duel in loud voices.

“That’s the Heavenly Central Swordmaster for you.”

“Absolutely satisfying! Who would’ve thought he’d lose his own wrist to his own blade?”

“Bwahahaha! That was cathartic!”

Some even clapped in admiration, remembering all the righteous martial artists who had lost their hands to the Severing Demon Saber.

Namgung Soomyung approached Yong Hwarin.

“Apologies for interrupting your duel, Young Master Namgung.”

“Knowing Young Master Yong’s intentions, how could I be upset? I owe you for preserving what little reputation I had left.”

Namgung Soomyung respectfully cupped his fist and bowed.

He had resolved to enter secluded training once again.

“You’ve grown much stronger since I last saw you.”

Pang Giyok stepped forward and commented.

Behind him, Pang Cheollyeon looked at Yong Hwarin with a sulky expression.

“It’s been a while, Yeonmae.”

“How could you never contact me even once, Brother Hwarin? My brother even sent a carrier pigeon.”

“Sending a carrier pigeon just to ask how someone’s doing seems a bit much, don’t you think? Besides, I’ve been busy with clan affairs.”

“Tch!”

Still, she snorted discontentedly, clearly displeased about something.

“I’m just glad to see you after so long. I hope you understand.”

As Pang Giyok greeted him, Seomun Yuwon and Seomun Seoseol, followed by Shangguan Joyoung and Shangguan Mijong, also stepped up one by one to exchange greetings.

To an outsider, it looked as though they were the ones initiating greetings with Yong Hwarin, making his presence appear all the more imposing.

Watching this from a distance, Jeong Suji murmured,

“He doesn’t shrink at all, even when surrounded by people like that.”

“To my eyes, Young Master Yong stands out even among them.”

“That’s just because you like him, unni.”

“That’s not the only reason. It’s like a crane among chickens? No, more like a roc among cranes.”

“Wait, unni, hold on. You just said it’s not the only reason. That means you do like him a little, right?”

As her younger sister persistently pressed the issue, Jeong Minji shook her head and headed for the guest quarters.

Yong Hwarin, too, tried to escape the awkward situation, but Shangguan Mijong kept following him, bombarding him with questions.

“Why didn’t you contact us even once?”

“Hm.”

“How did you improve your martial arts so much in such a short time?”

“Hm!”

“Why didn’t you reach out to us, even though you came to the Namgung Clan?”

“Hm!”

“Who were those three fox-like women you were with?”

“Hm!”

Yong Hwarin kept his silence.

Answering would only bring more nagging questions.

Then, when the chief administrator came and said the Patriarch of the Namgung Clan had summoned him, he smiled brightly.

Yong Hwarin now sat alone in a pavilion with Namgung Seong, the clan’s patriarch, sipping tea.

It was an extraordinary invitation.

It was almost unheard of for the patriarch of the Namgung Clan to meet alone with the young master of an obscure mid-tier sect whose name wasn’t even widely known.

But Yong Hwarin was already known as the Heavenly Central Swordmaster, and he had just defeated the Severing Demon Saber, Eom An, one of the Six Six Demonic Fiends.

What’s more, by doing so, he had helped preserve the Namgung Clan’s honor.

For this reason, Namgung Seong invited Yong Hwarin for a private conversation.

However, Namgung Seong found himself surprised once again.

Though Yong Hwarin seemed to be around the same age as his own children, speaking with him gave the impression of someone who had lived far more years.

Originally, Namgung Seong had intended to offer a few words of praise and send him on his way.

But after a short conversation, he suddenly realized that over an entire half a shichen had passed without him noticing.

“Father, you called for me?”

Namgung Seong had been so absorbed in talking with Yong Hwarin that he briefly forgot he had summoned his daughter.

“Ah, come in.”

A short moment later, a woman entered the room.

“Young Master Yong, I have several daughters, but I’m particularly fond of this one. She’s someone who admires heroes, so I thought I’d give her the chance to meet a true hero like yourself. Please don’t fault me for it.”

“Not at all.”

Yong Hwarin stood as he spoke and offered a respectful fist greeting to the woman.

She was the first to introduce herself.

“I am Namgung Yu.”

“I am Yong Hwarin.”

They exchanged simple introductions.

Namgung Seong watched them with satisfaction.

He had already begun calculating.

‘A child of the Yong Clan might one day become one of the Seven Kings of the Martial World. If so, it’s best to claim him early.’

He had originally considered matches for Namgung Yu such as Pang Giyok or Danmok Gyeol, but now he felt Yong Hwarin—who possessed greater skill and fame—was the ideal match.

He also calculated that an alliance with the Heavenly Central Sect could allow him to control all of southern Henan.

These were the kinds of calculations only the patriarch of a martial noble clan could make.

Such utilitarian thinking defined the world of the noble clans. It was for that very reason Pang Giyok distanced herself from other young clan masters and refrained from calling them brothers and sisters.

She disliked the way everything was reduced to profit in the noble families.

Yong Hwarin, however, was an exception—someone who had risked his life in the Bamboo Forest fighting alongside her against the Blood Demon Castle, forming a bond through shared life-and-death experiences.

To Yong Hwarin, Namgung Seong’s intentions were perfectly transparent.

And he knew that if he carelessly embarrassed the patriarch in this setting, it would only provoke backlash.

“Ah, you’re truly a beauty. Lady Namgung Sohong is also a beauty, but Lady Namgung Yu has a different kind of elegance.”

Though it was a polite compliment, Namgung Yu indeed possessed the kind of refined grace that could earn such praise.

The Namgung Clan was known for producing beautiful men and women across generations.

This stood in contrast to the Pang Clan of Hebei, famous for producing powerful warriors and heroic figures.

Yet Namgung Yu experienced something strange.

She had a habit of looking men in the eyes when they complimented her beauty—to read their intentions.

Most men looked at her with leering gazes, as if undressing her with their eyes, even while flattering her with flowery words.

Almost none broke that pattern.

But when Yong Hwarin spoke, his gaze was calm, like someone admiring a beautiful flower. It flustered her slightly.

‘He’s just saying it as a formality.’

Namgung Yu had studied Soul-Charming Technique, a martial art of the Demonic Path, and could read people’s minds through their eyes.

She had always been a problem child in her clan, drawn to Left Path techniques.

As Yong Hwarin turned his head, the way he did it was no more or less than someone admiring a flower.

He wasn’t trying to seem calm—he simply was.

‘His mental discipline is beyond ordinary.’

Namgung Yu sensed in him the grace of a Taoist who had cultivated the ways of Mount Wudang or Mount Hua.

It wasn’t something just any martial prodigy could display.

‘Now I understand why Father called me here to meet him.’