The Lightning I Harbor Is Too Strong - Chapter 43

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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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Chapter 43
“No! Jeong I-sin has nothing to feel wronged about!?”
Bang Si-jeong was the very embodiment of the backlash that Mu-jin had warned about.
He had been grabbing and shaking Jeong I-sin ever since the latter returned to his seat.
“He practically won, ahem!”
“Master Bang is quite right. The young monk conceded defeat, after all.”
“Cough! Well, that’s the way of it. Of course, the young monk Mu-jin was also splendid. Who else could put on such a magnificent display alone? Applause requires two hands meeting, after all!”
Fearing the matter would never reach a conclusion, Jeong I-sin explained that the hold had something to do with the Admission Ceremony itself.
“Ah, why didn’t you say so from the start.”
“Has such a situation occurred before?”
“Occasionally, if a particular stage proceeds abnormally fast or slow, they investigate. But there should be no real problem.”
Indeed, that was Bang Si-jeong.
“Thanks for telling me. Where has Nam Tae-gang gone?”
“Over there. He’s been staring like that ever since Jeong I-sin designated Mu-jin.”
……
A large figure seated diagonally in the distance was gazing at Jeong I-sin.
His eyes bore an awkward, lingering quality that proved deeply uncomfortable to meet, so Jeong I-sin quickly turned away.
Then, from far across the arena, a roar erupted.
“What’s happening, Master?”
“So Geom-hu has nominated Cheong Yeon-geom.”
……
“An Academy Disciple ranked third has challenged one ranked second in the Admission Ceremony.”
“Wow, bold indeed.”
Many Academy Disciples were indeed making their way toward the martial ground.
The beautiful man and woman facing each other in the center of the Evaluation Ground emanated an exceptionally sharp Qi Signature.
The sight of them gripping their Swords and glaring at each other resembled a fine painting.
“Academy Disciple So, Academy Disciple Cheong. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“I am ready.”
“Then, begin.”
Shriek!
Before Ipmu Won-ju’s voice had even dispersed, a sharp metallic ring cut through the air.
It was a Blade Draw of tremendous speed. The two who had clashed their Swords drew them back at nearly identical velocity, as if reflecting in a mirror.
Yet for all their matching speed, their sword styles were polar opposites.
Clang—!
The woman called So Geom-hu wielded an exceptionally restrained Sword, while the man called Cheong Yeon-geom wielded one of boundless freedom.
And yet neither gave ground, making it a truly worthwhile match to witness.
“Impressive.”
At Jeong I-sin’s murmur, Mu-jin ventured a question.
“Do you also wield a Sword, brother?”
“Eh? Ah… yes, I do. But I can’t use it now.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Mu-jin was surprisingly perceptive. He had a knack for sensing conversations that made Jeong I-sin inwardly uncomfortable, and this was no exception.
In ordinary circumstances, he would have smoothly steered toward another topic.
“Indeed. There are records that Senior Mang A-gaek was indifferent to weapons, whether Martial Gauntlets or any other implement. And it’s said that his mastery of each was nothing short of remarkable.”
Hmm…!
Jeong I-sin deliberately kept his eyes fixed on the arena, dismissing Bang Si-jeong’s words.
‘I’ll need to learn more about my master once I’m formally admitted.’
More people were beginning to learn about the master whose name he merely borrowed, so it seemed wise to prepare himself accordingly.
Shriek! Clang!
The match grew increasingly fierce. The two were now clashing with Inner Energy blooming from their Swords.
This was how Evaluation Matches were supposed to be, they said. The hundred exchanges at close range that Jeong I-sin and Mu-jin had fought were an exceptional case.
“What if they injure themselves seriously? Those are real Swords.”
“The Medical Hall of Cheonmu Academy is said to be the finest in Zhongyuan.”
“Of course it is, with the Physician present.”
They said that even a severed arm could be reattached, provided time had not run out.
A medical standard that was startlingly advanced.
‘Has their medicine grown so refined because so many have died?’
Then, suddenly.
‘…Why would the Academy need a physician of that caliber?’
The thought had surfaced against the distant, eerie hum of clashing blades.
* * *
The time passed peacefully enough, watching his classmates compete.
Though truth be told, it was no ordinary spectacle.
Everything was permitted in these Martial Matches except lethal force. And those stepping into the ring now were the finest young warriors the Orthodox Martial World had to offer.
‘Of all the martial artists who’d flooded into Shinyang, only a hundred remained.’
Each match was undeniably captivating.
For Jeong I-sin, his own bout with Mu-jin had felt almost tedious by comparison.
He could afford such thoughts—he’d already come to understand Mu-jin’s martial skill as one gazes down from a height.
How the Academy disciples chose their opponents was intriguing too.
“Why do they always select the next person in rank? Couldn’t they pick someone more evenly matched? That’s why the Admission Ceremony order matters in the first place.”
“Hmm?”
“…?”
Mu-jin and Bang Si-jeong exchanged glances, their expressions asking what they’d just heard.
“What?”
“…Jeong, you are a Righteous Hero indeed. Having opened the door to your first match so decisively, how could these supposed elite successors of the Orthodox World make such a pedestrian choice?”
“Because I’m fourth rank. The first-ranked named the third, the second chose the third. An implicit pattern has formed.”
Bang Si-jeong nodded at Mu-jin’s words.
“I imagine all the matches this cycle will follow suit. These are still young warriors, so naturally…”
He didn’t finish.
“I shall challenge rank one hundred, Eon So-ran.”
Before Ipmu Won-ju stood a man.
Dark brows and an even darker beard marked his face.
“What, a bandit?”
“Second son of the Hebei Peng Family, Peng Yue of the Baoshan Blade.”
“Destroying mountains, no less. How terrifying.”
“I’ve heard he makes a hobby of crushing bandit dens while they’re still occupied. Because of that, hardly any bandits remain in Hebei Province except those directly under the main Green Forest organization. Looking at it…”
“He’s a righteous hero.”
At Jeong I-sin’s firm declaration, Bang Si-jeong’s brow furrowed.
But Jeong I-sin was unmoved.
“Breaking bandit skulls is his hobby. That makes him a righteous hero.”
“Then why choose Eon So-ran now? The Baoshan Blade is ranked eleventh. She’s ranked one hundred.”
“Perhaps he means to teach her something?”
“…I suspect that’s entirely wrong.”
It was an uneasy response, as if he knew something he’d rather not.
Sure enough, Eon So-ran crossed the Evaluation Ground with a jaw clenched tight.
Jeong I-sin found himself glancing behind her, then stiffened in surprise.
‘The demon? …No, it’s Gongsun Young.’
Gongsun Young, whose sharp gaze was already formidable, now wore a scowl that suggested she’d tear Peng Yue—or whatever his name was—to shreds.
‘There’s something here.’
Gongsun Young was sharp-edged and prickly, but she wasn’t the sort to let every impulse show. Her likes and dislikes were simply unmistakable.
‘She wouldn’t rage just because a higher rank chose Eon So-ran like this.’
Though she doted on Eon So-ran, the hostility she directed at Peng Yue seemed to run far deeper than that alone.
Thus Peng Yue and Eon So-ran faced each other.
Ipmu Won-ju began with words slightly different from before.
“Remember—the outcome of this match will not affect your evaluations. Now…begin.”
Toward whom had he spoken? For what purpose?
Jeong I-sin found his answer the moment the match began.
‘What kind of lunatic was this?’
Slash—!
Peng Yue’s blade sang sharp and vicious, without mercy or restraint.
In the same instant he drew, he struck—both her thighs.
Her black Martial Robe split open, blood spilling bright and terrible.
Yet this alone was hardly cause for shock.
Blood had already stained matches before—from the bout between So Geom-hu and Cheong Yeon-geom onward, both had watched their bout with their Martial Robes darkened in patches of crimson.
Such was every match at Cheonmu Academy.
‘But this isn’t a match at all.’
Mutual—comparison. Martial—arts.
These two in the ring were not comparing their martial skill with each other.
“Ugh!”
Blood sprayed from Eon So-ran’s shoulder as light flashed across her skin.
It was the pattern repeating itself again and again.
By this point, the other newly admitted disciples were beginning to sense what Jeong I-sin had grasped from the very first exchange.
“Hmm…….”
“There’s nothing left to say about this.”
“I’ve heard the Baoshan Blade has a fierce temperament, but……”
“Fierce? To my eyes, he looks like a man drunk on blood.”
Jeong I-sin and Mu-jin’s chests burned—two swordsmen trading blows at close quarters.
A duel between two of the finest blades of the generation, debated as the very best among Successor Candidates.
What followed was the flow of Nine Major Sects and renowned martial families engaging with genuine spirit.
Yet now, this spectacle—toying with the opponent so shamelessly.
“Surely you jest!”
“The only excess here is in the Baoshan Blade’s hands!”
Complaints erupted naturally—yet Ipmu Won-ju did not stop the match.
Bang!
Eon So-ran staggered as Peng Yue’s blade struck home. He drew the weapon back and dropped low, lips moving silently as he lunged forward.
‘Sound Transmission?’
Jeong I-sin, his every nerve focused, caught the Energy Pulse.
‘Sound Transmission during a match?’
He thought the man had already exhausted every indignity, yet Eon So-ran’s expression suddenly froze. She bit her lip so hard blood trickled down her chin.
With lips now vivid red, Eon So-ran opened her mouth.
―……Bastard.
Then she rushed forward.
Crash!
‘What?’
Even as Jeong I-sin blinked, unsure if he’d truly seen what he’d seen, Eon So-ran was frantically defending against Peng Yue’s assault.
She managed not a single counterattack.
Her Martial Robe grew dark with blood as wounds accumulated, yet Eon So-ran never yielded the word “defeat.”
But at last her form faltered.
Thud—
“……I could wait like this forever.”
Peng Yue, his blade pressed to the throat of the kneeling Eon So-ran, murmured under his breath.
Only then did Ipmu Won-ju declare the match over.
“You bastard!!!”
A roar of Killing Intent erupted from one edge of the Evaluation Ground.
The familiar specter of malice filled Jeong I-sin’s vision.
Gongsun Young, teeth gritted, stamped the earth—but she could not take even two steps before she was forced to stop.
“Elder Seop!!”
“Instructor Seop.”
“Now’s not the time for that——!”
Seop Yeon of the Gwanggeom Military Corps, blocking Gongsun Young’s path, spoke without changing his expression.
“No one asked you to enter Cheonmu Academy. The same applies to Eon So-ran.”
“…….”
“You came in on your own feet. Follow the rules of this place.”
“This——!”
Crackle—crack—crack!
The moment Eon So-ran disappeared into the quarters, carried by a Medical Hall attendant.
Gongsun Young pointed at Peng Yue, still standing in the center of the Evaluation Ground.
“I want to face that bastard. Right now.”
Unlike Gongsun Young, who looked as though she might shatter, Ipmu Won-ju shook his head with a terrifyingly cold face.
“Academy Disciple Gongsun Young, forty-fifth in order. Wait your turn.”
“…….”
“Announcing results: Eon So-ran—Low Rank. Peng Yue……Hold.”
* * *
After the match between Peng Yue and Eon So-ran, dozens more matches followed.
The Evaluation that had begun at sunrise was now fading into dusk.
As the red light of sunset washed across the Evaluation Ground, Eon So-ran came to mind again—along with the words Ipmu Won-ju had spoken as that match ended.
‘This too is the Martial World.’
No further words came.
Among the new disciples, opinions diverged sharply. They seemed dizzy trying to make sense of it all.
But Jeong I-sin’s resolve was unwavering.
‘Nonsense.’
This too was the Martial World.
In the rivers and lakes, anything could happen—so the saying went.
It wasn’t wrong. If you crossed paths with a blood-mad demon horse by chance, you’d end up like Eon So-ran.
But… everyone gathered here was an Orthodox Martial Artist.
And this was an academy cultivating successor candidates for the Orthodox Martial World.
Did it really need to go this far?
‘I don’t understand the intent. Do they need someone to play the villain? To shock the tender minds of the newcomers? But does it make sense to harbor someone like that?’
With no clear answer forthcoming, dissatisfaction only bred more dissatisfaction.
‘Isn’t this whole Admission Ceremony a con? My spirit went unexamined, yet they let that blood demon bastard through.’
Just as his thoughts were shifting toward cursing Jegal Gi-cheon, someone approached.
“…Excuse me.”
Someone came up to Jeong I-sin, who was loosening his muscles.
Her head hung low, only the ornate flower-shaped hair ornament trembling gently.
“Do you have something to say to me, Gongsun Young?”
“Yes.”
When Gongsun Young lifted her head, her eyes were flushed red.
She had ultimately not faced Peng Yue in a match. Peng Yue’s opponent was already decided.
Gongsun Young had won her own match overwhelmingly and received the highest grade, but for her right now, it meant nothing.
“I have a favor to ask.”
“Speak.”
“Will you grant it?”
“If it’s worth granting.”
Crunch—
With a chilling sound, her already flushed eyes turned deeper red.
Killing intent roiled across her face as Gongsun Young gnashed her teeth.
“Could you yield your match with that bastard to me?”
“Never.”
“Aaaaaaah!”
Leaving Gongsun Young shrieking behind him, Jeong I-sin walked into the Evaluation Ground.
In this evaluation round, exactly two had been placed on Hold.
Jeong I-sin and Peng Yue.
The moment the two held-back candidates faced each other, Peng Yue’s mouth moved.
—What’s your relationship with So-ran?
“…What?”
—Answer me. I saw she couldn’t take her eyes off you.
“What kind of trick is this? Does this bastard have a habit of sending Sound Transmissions during matches?”
As Jeong I-sin sighed openly, Peng Yue’s face twisted, and a hostile Sound Transmission shot forth again.
—Dog! If you don’t answer at once, I’ll cut off your arm! Even if the severed arm is reattached, will its sensation ever be the same as before? If you don’t wish to lose your future as a martial artist, answer willingly…
Faced with this endless drivel, Jeong I-sin glanced toward Ipmu Won-ju.
His face was far gaunt from the first match.
Ipmu Won-ju’s eyes darted to confirm both of them, then he nodded.
“Begin.”
In the same instant, Jeong I-sin raised his index finger.
A single streak of golden brilliance flashed at its tip.
Whoosh!
“…Huh?”
Whoosh—!
“Wh…!?”
Only when blood spurted from both his thighs did Peng Yue, who had been fevered with his Sound Transmission, realize his state.
He’d been pierced through.
Immediately after, the index finger wrapped in golden lightning pointed at the exact center of Peng Yue’s forehead.
Peng Yue, who had been stanching his thighs, hurriedly raised his hands.
“Wait, sto—!”
“This is the Martial World, they say.”
Whoosh—!
Lightning Thunder Manifest Five Water
First Strike
Flash Lightning.
With a golden streak splitting the air, the final match of the Evaluation came to an end in record time.
The lightning I carried was simply too strong
Author |
Woo San-yu
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(주) Samyang C&C
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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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