I Obtained Guan Yu's Martial Arts - Chapter 38

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Obtaining Gwan Hui’s Martial Arts 038
Shanxi’s Greatest Spearmaster (3)
Two martial artists stood upon the Martial Contest Arena.
Jang Seong, the eldest son of the An Mun Jang Family, wielder of the Jeol Yeong Saber, and Yang Un Sang, the sole heir of the Yang Family, master of the Liu Yun Spear.
Evaluated as possessing the martial prowess of the Five Dragons Three Peaks Class, these two shared one thing in common.
It was that both their pride soared high enough to pierce the heavens.
Though raised without material want, the relentless discipline of their stern fathers had twisted and hardened their pride to such a degree that calling them Shanxi’s most arrogant would scarcely be an exaggeration.
Perhaps that was why.
Jang Seong and Yang Un Sang took an immediate and profound dislike to each other.
‘Arrogant bastard.’
‘Conceited fool.’
With saber and spear gripped firmly in hand, the two fixed each other with eyes glinting with murderous intent despite this being a friendly match.
“I’ll shatter that arrogance of yours.”
“I’ll pulverize that smug face of yours.”
The two warriors, having hurled ominous threats unbecoming of a friendly contest, lunged toward each other as though by prior arrangement.
Clang!—
The spear and saber of the two martial artists collided in mid-air at the center of the arena.
Yellow sparks erupted, and the burst of energy sent their robes billowing outward.
“For daring to be insolent in the Yang Family’s presence, I’ll exact my due.”
Whoosh!—
The extended spear blade thrust toward Jang Seong’s thigh.
Blocking the spear shaft with the flat of his saber, Jang Seong extended his left palm and unleashed the Long Wind Palm.
Boom!—
Even a seasoned martial artist cannot help but close their eyes when a powerful gust strikes near the eyes.
In the instant Yang Un Sang’s eyes shut, Jang Seong swung his blade in a broad horizontal arc aimed at his opponent’s head.
“Cheap tricks—!”
Yang Un Sang wrenched his neck backward so sharply that tendons stood out along his jaw.
The razor-sharp saber blade passed mere inches from his throat.
A moment’s hesitation would have meant a fatal wound.
“You damnable wretch—!”
Yang Un Sang’s face twisted into something grotesque with rage as he launched a furious counterattack, his spear whirling in vicious arcs.
A thrust aimed at the head.
A slash toward the chest that doubled as a feint for a strike at the head.
A feint at the thigh that concealed another thrust toward the head.
Yang Un Sang’s spear blade relentlessly drove Jang Seong backward, and within moments the saber wielder found himself pressed to the edge of the Training Ground.
Though both had reached the level of First-class Master, Yang Un Sang held a decisive edge in skill.
“Ugh!”
Jang Seong retreated from the spear blade flickering before his eyes, his brow furrowing.
Sift, sift, sift—
White pear blossoms filled his entire vision.
The Pear Blossom Spear Technique—the Yang Family’s exclusive martial secret.
Patterned after the pear trees that symbolized the Yang Family, this spear art’s defining characteristic was its petal-like movements, falling thick as blossoms. It belonged to the Illusion Class of martial disciplines.
“Die!”
Dozens of pear blossoms shot forth toward Jang Seong’s head.
The sight of countless petals aligning in perfect formation as they streaked toward him was quite spectacular.
“Fine—. I’ll take you on. You conceited whelp!”
Gripping his saber firmly with both hands, Jang Seong deployed the Void Dream Slash Blade—the An Mun Jang Family’s exclusive martial art—and began striking the petals away head-on.
The exchange of attacks and defenses raged with unrelenting intensity.
“Hmm.”
Gwan Hui, watching the display, tilted his head thoughtfully.
“Why do you say that?”
“The feeling is similar.”
“Those two?”
Ju Ho scratched the bridge of his nose as if unsure what was meant.
“They’re both stiff.”
At a glance, the coordination between the two appeared nearly flawless.
Their exchange was intense and unbroken.
Yet upon closer inspection, something peculiar marked their bout—an oddly stubborn rigidity.
Both were adhering too strictly to the Direct Method, refusing any deviation whatsoever.
“The Illusion Class is meant to deceive the opponent with false motions and exploit openings. Yet these two won’t even glance at an opening, let alone pursue one.”
“What? No—why in the world would he do something so foolish?”
“He’s in the middle of a pride match.”
Gwan Hui, watching the two men’s expressions, quickly discerned the reason.
Jang Seong and Yang Un Sang, whose pride had swollen to grotesque proportions, were refusing to even glance at openings in their opponent’s defense—all to inflict greater humiliation.
“At this rate, Jang will lose.”
Yang Un Sang was a master a full tier above Jang Seong.
What’s more, the Void Dream Slash Blade itself was a martial art of the deceptive sort—one that worked by ensnaring the opponent in illusion.
There was no chance of victory while fighting such a technique head-on and earnestly.
“But sir, if that happens, doesn’t our plan fall apart?”
The plan to topple the Yang Family compound required both the head of the family and the secondary head to be broken.
If they could not break the secondary head, the plan’s impact would be halved—and Gwan Hui’s own opponent might even change.
In other words, Jang Seong’s defeat meant the plan had failed.
“If Jang loses, the Yang Family head might not even step into the arena.”
“Then we have no choice but to hope he doesn’t lose.”
“…Damn it.”
Ju Ho gnawed at his lip roughly.
Both his arms trembled with anxiety.

* * *
Clang!—
A sharp, ringing clash erupted, and yellow lightning scattered in all directions.
“Ugh!”
Jang Seong staggered backward.
A gash had opened across his forehead, and blood streamed down, drenching half his face.
‘Damn it all.’
Yang Un Sang was a far worthier opponent than he’d anticipated.
He’d tried to block every blow perfectly, yet he’d already taken more than five wounds.
At this rate, defeat was inevitable.
And yet Jang Seong could not set aside his pride.
‘I can’t bow to that bastard.’
He knew it himself.
The Void Dream Slash Blade—a saber art whose name spoke of cutting through false dreams—was a technique that revealed its true power when deceiving the opponent and exploiting their openings.
But he didn’t want that.
Like the lofty pride he possessed, he wanted to win by crushing with overwhelming force.
He wanted to dominate from the front, not through gaps.
Whish!—
The blade Yang Un Sang unleashed sheared through a handful of Jang Seong’s hair as it passed.
“Ah…!”
A sigh escaped Ju Ho from behind.
Even he could sense that Jang Seong was on the verge of defeat.
“…….”
The spear blade grazing past before his eyes; Yang Un Sang’s expression full of regret.
Feeling the end approaching, Jang Seong witnessed these two things and suddenly understood something he’d never grasped before.
‘He’s just like me.’
Come to think of it, the man had been foolishly targeting only his head.
If he’d gone for the body, he would have won long ago—yet he stubbornly kept aiming for the head.
Why?
‘He’s building up his own pride.’
A hollow laugh escaped Jang Seong’s lips.
He’d finally understood why that man had always infuriated him.
The man carried the same ugliness within him that he did.
‘Is that so.’
A bitter smile rose unbidden to his mouth.
To devise a plan to topple the Yang Family compound together, and yet to put pride before that plan.
To understand the true essence of his family’s martial art, and yet to turn away from it.
To place pride before victory.
It all suddenly seemed ugly.
“Ha. Then what in the world should I…?”
As Jang Seong retreated from the spear blade, his gaze suddenly shifted toward Gwan Hui.
And in his complicated eyes, Gwan Hui found himself reflected.
Whoosh—
Like ripples washing away in the tide, his stray thoughts vanished.
Jang Seong already knew what he had to do.
Because someone had shown him that path.
‘The head of the Gwan Family.’
A man who had set aside his pride for his clan’s survival, who had volunteered himself as a test subject for the Dark Blade.
The very life he had walked was proof that Jang Seong’s way of putting pride first was wrong.
“Pathetically slow.”
Jang Seong laughed bitterly at himself.
Now he saw it—his younger brother, whom he’d despised as a fool, was no different from himself.
Jang Seong, Jang Ryu, Yang Un Sang.
All of them were fools whose hearts were stuffed with nothing but pride and vanity.
“The truth was right before my eyes.”
His gaze settled, calm and clear, and Jang Seong’s expression became serene.
The very air shifted with his change in bearing.
Yang Un Sang sneered and launched forward.
“Too late now—!”
A great saber flew toward Yang Un Sang. Jang Seong had hurled his weapon away.
“You madman!”
Yang Un Sang halted his charge in panic, arching his body backward.
Cough—!
Blood reversed its flow, trickling from the corner of his mouth.
He’d suffered an Internal Injury from forcing himself to stop mid-Lightness Skill.
“You’ve decided you want to die!”
Certain of his victory, Yang Un Sang bore a bloodstained smile.
He had judged that a warrior without his weapon stood no chance.
But.
Whoosh—!
Jang Seong charged forward bare-handed, seized the spear shaft, and closed the distance in a heartbeat.
—!
Then came the punch.
Yang Un Sang threw up his hands to shield his face, but the fist found his abdomen instead.
Thump—!
“Ugh, ugh—!”
Yang Un Sang’s complexion turned ashen as his body bent like a shrimp.
“Only fools aim for the face in a real fight.”
Jang Seong’s fist came down like lightning across Yang Un Sang’s face.
Crack—!
Yang Un Sang’s head snapped to the side, and his body slowly began to fall toward the ground.
“That fool is me.”
Jang Seong’s gaze turned back toward Gwan Hui.
Once he had sought to kill the head of the Gwan Family without a second thought.
Until this moment, Gwan Hui had been a future rival in Jang Seong’s mind, but no longer.
‘I owe him a debt.’
In Jang Seong’s heart, Gwan Hui was now his benefactor. Perhaps even a rather fine friend.

* * *
‘I was wrong.’
Gwan Hui found himself chuckling despite himself.
He’d thought Jang Seong would lose. That he’d win once pride was abandoned—he never expected that.
Being proved wrong had never felt this satisfying in his entire life.
‘Now it’s your turn.’
Gwan Hui’s gaze drifted across the Training Ground toward Yang Mu Won.
The man stood watching his unconscious son with eyes gone cold and sharp, and from him radiated pure killing intent.
“Now it’s your turn, it seems.”
As Jang Seong descended from the contest, Gwan Hui handed him a towel.
“Well fought.”
“Thank you.”
Jang Seong wiped the sweat and blood from his face with the towel.
“Ju Ho brought it.”
“No, not that.”
Jang Seong regarded Gwan Hui with eyes that held an unusual composure.
“I won because of you.”
“I only watched.”
At the sight of Gwan Hui’s characteristically impassive face, Jang Seong let out a soft laugh.
“Sometimes you’re as cunning as a snake, and sometimes as dense as a bear. You’re an interesting fellow, you are.”
So natural was the slip that Jang Seong himself hadn’t noticed—for the first time in his life, he’d called someone a friend.
“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? Did you take one too many blows to the head?”
Ju Ho nodded in agreement.
“You took quite the beating, sir. If you’d sustained that kind of damage, even a Shaolin monk trained in External Martial Arts would be seeing stars.”
At their jest, Jang Seong’s smile deepened.
In the past, he would have bristled with wounded pride and lashed out.
But now, such feelings didn’t stir.
Watching Gwan Hui, he’d come to understand what mattered more than pride.
“Don’t worry. If you’re still feeling pain at this level, you’re hardly a man of true mettle.”
“Oh?”
Gwan Hui raised a finger and jabbed Jang Seong directly on the bruise of his forehead.
“Ow!”
“Hmm. So you’re not a man of true mettle, then.”
“Of course it hurts when you poke a wound, you fool!”
It was just as Gwan Hui and Jang Seong were bickering that it happened.
“A splendid match indeed.”
The Chief Steward of the Yang Family Compound approached, carrying a teapot and two tea cups.
“I’ve heard tales of the An Mun Jang Family’s Jeol Yeong Saber skill, but seeing it firsthand was truly remarkable.”
“……? Thank you.”
Jang Seong accepted the cup the Chief Steward offered, his expression wary.
“This tea will aid in your recovery of body and spirit.”
The Chief Steward poured the golden-hued brew into the cup.
The delicate aroma of medicinal herbs reached his nose softly.
“Indeed. Fine tea.”
Jang Seong’s expression softened at the scent.
Gwan Hui, who had been watching intently, extended his hand to the Chief Steward.
“I’d like a cup as well.”
“……!”
The Chief Steward’s eyes widened in an instant.
As he was still deciding how to respond, the request came first.
It was like having a pumpkin roll right into his lap along the vine.
“……Of course. There’s plenty of tea.”
The Chief Steward poured with an expression of perfect composure.
Yet the tips of his fingers trembled ever so slightly.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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