Episode 138: Return to the Martial Arts Hall

By now, many of the cadets had come to respect and follow Sabikang. However, not all of them were entirely satisfied. Recently, a few cadets had been quietly expressing their disappointment, though they never said it directly to Sabikang. Among them were Yeom Jaryang, Yeon Woo-gyeong, and Mok Dan-hwa.

The reason was simple. Sabikang had gifted rare weapons to Dan Lijeong, Jo Muntak, and Gok Bo-ok. Yet, despite their own impressive martial skills, these cadets had received nothing.

Yeom Jaryang, in particular, was quite vocal about it. “Instructor, I want a special weapon too! Why haven’t I received one?”

“It’s not just you. There are many who haven’t received one yet.”

“Does that mean you’ll give them out eventually?”

“Do you think you can just demand it?”

“Alright, I’ll wait then.”

With that, Yeom Jaryang left, grinning to himself. They say children take after their parents, but perhaps students take after their teachers too. ‘Where did he learn to be so cheeky?’ Sabikang thought, chuckling as he recalled the conversation. He then surveyed the martial arts hall, with the leaders of the sect trailing behind him.

Half of them, like the sect leader, seemed indifferent, while the other half were anxious, worried that Sabikang might choose a rare weapon. Sensing this, Sabikang decided to tease them a bit more.

“Oh, this one looks truly impressive,” he remarked, picking up a sword with a red tassel on its hilt, known as the Red Dragon Dominator. It was a weapon that, when wielded by someone trained in extreme yang martial arts, could make them as formidable as a tiger with wings.

As Sabikang swung the sword around, a fierce whooshing sound filled the air. When the blade inadvertently pointed towards some of the onlookers, they recoiled in surprise.

“Hey! Be careful with that!”

“That’s dangerous!”

Sabikang scratched his head apologetically. “Ah, sorry about that. I got a bit carried away.”

Meanwhile, the sect leader, smiling, asked, “Is that the one you want?”

“Hmm…” Sabikang pretended to ponder, drawing out the moment. The tension among the martial artists, especially those like Deung Wangpa, was palpable.

Finally, Sabikang shook his head. “No, it feels good in the hand, but it lacks style. I’ll choose something else.”

Relief washed over the martial artists, who had been worried that a precious sword might end up in the hands of someone they deemed unworthy. ‘Foolish boy,’ Deung Wangpa thought, ‘A flashy sword is easy to find, but a true masterpiece is often unassuming.’

Sabikang continued to inspect various weapons, occasionally making the martial artists’ hearts skip a beat. It wasn’t until he reached the third floor that he found what he was looking for.

Unlike the first two floors, the third floor was disorganized, with weapons haphazardly displayed. It was mostly filled with third-rate weapons. Yet, Sabikang examined it more thoroughly than the others.

And then, he found it.

In a dusty corner stood a large sword, over five feet long, its tip dragging on the ground if worn at the waist. ‘Here it is. The Dark Blade.’

Sabikang lifted the Dark Blade, a weapon unknown to the sect members but originating from the demon realm. Somehow, it had ended up in the martial arts hall, likely picked up by someone when a barrier had broken long ago.

The blade was entirely black, making it unique. Its size and lack of apparent special qualities had relegated it to the third floor. But Sabikang, knowing its true potential from a past life, had come to the hall specifically for this sword.

‘It may look like a simple, oversized sword, but…’

A faint vibration traveled through Sabikang’s hand, unnoticed by the others. ‘With a bit of mana, its true power shines.’ It was a sword meant for a magic swordsman.

As Sabikang admired the Dark Blade, Deung Wangpa smirked internally. ‘Fool. He’s going to choose that oversized, flashy sword. What a waste of time coming here for such a worthless piece. Just take it and leave.’

Sabikang turned to the sect leader. “This one feels right.”

“Are you sure about that?” the sect leader asked, a hint of regret in his voice.

Some martial artists shared his sentiment, while others, like Deung Wangpa, barely concealed their amusement.

Sabikang beamed. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Remember, you can change your mind until you leave the hall.”

“I won’t. This is the one for me.”

The sect leader nodded reluctantly. “Very well, if that’s your decision.”

**

That night, a banquet was held in Sabikang’s honor. As the evening wore on, many praised him, though some, like Deung Wangpa, were less enthusiastic.

As the festivities reached their peak, the sect leader approached Sabikang. “Thanks to your efforts, our sect’s reputation has been restored. What are your thoughts on the ongoing war with the Blood Alliance?”

The room quieted as everyone turned their attention to Sabikang, eager to hear his response.

“If things continue as they are, the damage will be severe. Neither side stands to gain. The war drags on, dividing the martial world and deepening resentments. The losses will only grow.”

“And?”

“It’s time to consider dialogue.”

Deung Wangpa bristled. “You mean to recognize the Blood Alliance?”

“Yes. We need to find a way to coexist.”

“That’s absurd! Are we to overlook their atrocities? And what about their recent attempt to capture our key members?”

“Well, we could keep fighting and end up captured and killed like last time,” Sabikang muttered, picking his ear nonchalantly.

Watching nervously, Mae Seollan sighed. ‘There he goes again, provoking people…’

Sure enough, Deung Wangpa exploded. “What did you say?!”

“Now, now, let’s keep this civil,” the sect leader interjected, calming the situation.

Though Deung Wangpa was visibly upset, he held his tongue, aware of the setting.

The sect leader turned back to Sabikang. “But the Blood Alliance is growing. Do you really think they’ll negotiate?”

“It’s possible.”

“Why?”

“With the recent death of their leader and if we can dismantle a few key branches based on the strategist’s plan, they’ll be open to talks.”

All eyes turned to the strategist, who looked surprised. ‘When did I come up with such a plan?’ he wondered.

Sabikang simply gave him a knowing look.

The sect leader sought confirmation from the strategist, who reluctantly nodded. “Yes, according to… my plan, it’s possible.”

“Very well. It’s worth considering. The important thing is to avoid further losses.”

“I’ll do my best.”

With the main discussion over, the banquet resumed. Amidst the revelry, Ba Cheondanju, a close associate of Deung Wangpa, stepped forward.

“To liven up the evening, I propose a test of the new sword Sabikang chose today.”

“Indeed,” Sabikang replied.

“How about a friendly duel to see its power?”

Deung Wangpa’s supporters eagerly agreed. “That would be a sight to see!”

“Show us the might of your new sword, Sabikang!”

“Excellent idea!”

Deung Wangpa smirked, understanding Ba Cheondanju’s intent. A sword duel would test the blade’s strength and sharpness, and Ba Cheondanju wielded the formidable Blue Water Wind Blade.

It was a blade so sharp it could slice through steel like it was nothing.

Yet, the sword Sabigang had chosen was an unremarkable one, without even a name.

Surely, it wouldn’t stand a chance against the formidable Beksu Pungpado.

In fact, Jeon Tae-soo intended to cut Sabigang’s chosen sword in half right then and there.

If that happened, Sabigang would not only fail to acquire the sword but also face humiliation in front of everyone.

The warriors on the Mengju side secretly hoped Sabigang would politely decline Jeon Tae-soo’s challenge.

There was no need to invite ridicule.

But Sabigang completely disregarded their hopes.

“Very well! I appreciate your consideration.”

“Haha! The honor is mine. As an instructor with such remarkable martial skills, I’m sure your judgment is equally impressive. The sword you picked today must be extraordinary! I look forward to it.”

“Of course.”

Without hesitation, Sabigang strode forward.

Unable to watch any longer, Neung Un-pa tried to dissuade him gently.

“Instructor Sa, there’s no need to test the sword, is there?”

“No, I actually wanted to test this sword myself.”

In the end, Neung Un-pa sighed lightly and watched quietly.

Finally, the two stood facing each other in the courtyard.

Jeon Tae-soo smirked inwardly.

‘Let’s see you embarrass yourself in front of all these people.’

He grinned.

“Please, make the first move. I’ll defend.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, I won’t hold back.”

Sabigang grinned.

‘Foolish boy, so eager…’

Jeon Tae-soo sneered internally, gripping his sword tightly.

Sabigang approached confidently, raising the dark blade.

In the next moment—

Swish!

He simply swung it from where he stood.

And that was it.

But what happened next was astonishing.

Everyone, including Jeon Tae-soo, gaped in disbelief.

Time seemed to slow down.

It was that unbelievable.

The Beksu Pungpado was sliced cleanly, like tofu.

Whoosh!

Thud!

The severed piece of the Beksu Pungpado narrowly grazed Deung Wang-pae’s cheek before embedding itself in the wall, quivering.

“How… how is this… possible…?”

Jeon Tae-soo stared blankly at the cut Beksu Pungpado.

Sabigang beamed like a child.

“Wow! It really is a great sword! This is exciting!”