Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven - Chapter 263

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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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Third-rate Martial Arts Family, Greatest Under Heaven – Episode 263
Deception is deception.
In the past, Jegal Seol-ha had been swept up one-sidedly in the chaos that Yang Hwi created, dragged along in confusion and bewilderment.
But now she was one of those who understood her older brother’s schemes better than anyone else.
“Father, allow me to explain. Hyeon Geom, disciple of the Taeguk Sword Master. Baek Yang-hwi, disciple of Pacheon Eumhu. There is a difference between a formal disciple who received complete transmission and an outer disciple.”
Though Jegal Seon was called Waryong Musang due to his hasty temperament, he too was an heir of the Jegal lineage.
“He received only sporadic teachings, and naturally, no transmission of martial arts. If this fact becomes known…”
“Exactly. A disciple of the Cheonmu-sip-jon defeated by a young master of a minor martial family. We could create a framework far more powerful and solid than that.”
Of course, the figure drawing attention would be somewhat different.
“Seol-ha. You’d be embarrassed to say it yourself, so I’ll say it directly. It’s confirmed you’ll become the First Pinnacle, right?”
Jegal Seol-ha thought for a moment, then answered without hesitation.
“Yes. Of course I promised to meet Elder Sister in the finals… but the championship will be mine.”
She gazed at Jegal Seon with a sinister smile.
“Everyone is convinced that the disciple of Cheonmu-sip-jon Pacheon Eumhu will become the First Pinnacle. But what if I become the First Dragon in that situation? What would happen?”
Both the First Dragon and First Pinnacle of this generation are disciples of Pacheon Eumhu?
People would naturally harbor such thoughts.
That among the Cheonmu-sip-jon, Pacheon Eumhu stands a step above the Taeguk Sword Master.
“The ability to teach disciples and the martial prowess one possesses are separate matters, however.”
“They’re not completely separate. Otherwise, there would be no reason for disciples of the Cheonmu-sip-jon to receive such acclaim.”
The conversation continued back and forth.
Jegal Seol-ha delivered the final flourish.
“What if Master publicly opposes the establishment of the Martial Alliance right after both disciples’ victories? Wouldn’t that make the situation quite interesting?”
Seol-ha, Jegal Seon, and Jegal Hwa-un all wore the same expression as Yang Hwi.
They began laughing sinisterly, even letting out low chuckles.
‘Seol-ha, I understand, but both of them too? You must have accumulated quite a lot at the Shaman Sect.’
It couldn’t be helped. Setting aside everything else, just the exclusion during the Martial Alliance’s establishment would have made their blood boil to the very top of their heads.
“Excellent! I shall grant your request, Yang Hwi!”
“Thank you, Uncle!”
“However, your plan only holds meaning if you defeat Shaolin’s greatest prodigy.”
Gravity settled in Jegal Seon’s eyes.
“Are you confident?”
Jegal Seol-ha and Jegal Hwa-un also focused their gazes on Yang Hwi.
“You’ll see when the time comes.”

* * *
Adu of Shaolin!
The greatest prodigy of Shaolin.
Or perhaps, a late bloomer who might possess the greatest talent under heaven itself.
Everyone was certain of it.
That Adu of Shaolin would become the greatest master under heaven.
If he was not broken along the way.
It was a curious thing.
Adu possessed the intelligence of merely a six-year-old child.
Yet despite being from Shaolin and a disciple of Cheonmu-sip-jon, people regarded him as the next greatest master under heaven.
The answer was simple.
Because he had demonstrated such tremendous talent and martial prowess that people thought of him this way.
‘If he is not broken, then inevitably. That child is a destined existence.’
In this era, there existed exactly four beings who shone brightly in the light—beings like Yang Hwi.
Adu was one of them.
‘And if my predictions are correct….’
The Taeguk Sword Master concealed his true thoughts as he gazed upon Yeoilrakbul before him.
“What brings you to seek out Bin-do?”
“Donor, are you envious?”
“….”
As the Sword Master fell silent, Lakbul chuckled.
“That’s right. You’re envious, aren’t you? Deeply so.”
“….”
“That child Hyeon Geom is also exceptional. You’d do well to pay him proper attention so he doesn’t fall behind. After all, that rascal Adu is nestled in an old monk’s embrace!”
“….”
“Heh. You Malko types are no fun. Will you just keep your mouth shut like that?”
“I wish you would get to the point.”
“The point. The point, you say.”
Lakbul, who had been playful until then, straightened his posture.
In that moment, the diminutive appearance of the monk vanished, and the true nature of Cheonmu-sip-jon Yeoilrakbul was revealed.
“Sword Master. Do you truly believe the Martial Alliance will serve to establish the will of the Four Seas and Heaven?”
The Sword Master’s response came without the slightest hesitation.
“Of course.”
“Shaolin does not support the establishment of the Martial Alliance.”
“Yet you, Yeoilrakbul, have not expressed opposition either.”
It had always been thus. Shaolin, dwelling in benevolent restraint.
The largest sect under heaven, yet so mysterious that it was called a sect with no external relations.
“Shaolin is merely a small grove, observing only as things flow naturally past.”
Then what of the current situation?
“If the currents twist and dust rises, it is but a natural flow to observe. However… it must not become so murky that even the fish cannot breathe.”
It was a warning. Yeoilrakbul had come to deliver a warning.
The Shaman’s Way: existence and non-existence coexist.
If existence were to break the natural order of non-existence, Shaolin would not stand idly by.
“Ah, so that’s why. The moment Bin-do sent out his disciple, Shaolin immediately unveiled their greatest treasure, kept under wraps until now.”
Yeoilrakbul bowed his body once more.
The aura of an absolute being vanished as if washed away.
“Hehehehe, since we cannot fight each other, we must measure our disciples against one another, mustn’t we?”
Hyeon Geom was defeated in the semifinals.
Adu has advanced to the finals and faces the ultimate confrontation.
In terms of measuring ourselves, the outcome has already been decided.
“It’s clear whose measure is longer! You must strive harder, Geom-ong.”
“Bin-do’s disciple is not a measure but a seedling. Only time will reveal which tree reaches the highest place.”
Lakbul smiled faintly and raised two fingers.
“Which seedling do you think? These two? Or perhaps.”
The two Cheonmu-sip-jons thought of the same person simultaneously.
In that moment, one finger extended.
The pinky finger.
“This shortest little pinky finger?”
….
“Geom-ong. Don’t strain yourself too much. Heavenly fate… cannot be defied, can it?”
“If I have chosen to watch, then I shall do so, Lakbul. But I seek to coexist with heavenly fate.”
“Hehehehe, yes. That’s how it should be. I’ll simply let a willow leaf or two drift idly on by.”
Lakbul’s form vanished.
The Taeguk Sword Master remained seated for a long while after.

* * *
The sky was overcast today as well.
When I faced Hyeon Geom, the rain never fell until the end, but perhaps today a downpour would come.
‘Though I suppose any rain that falls would just evaporate and drift away anyway.’
The atmosphere was burning just as intensely.
It was only natural—this was a record-breaking Dragon and Phoenix Assembly of the current era, held once every ten years, with as many as three or four candidates for Jeil-ryong.
“Place your bets! Shaolin’s Iron Pagoda Fist Dragon! Gaecheon Baek Family’s Gaecheon Geomryong!”
The odds written on the placard carried by the betting merchants.
Adu’s odds were about five percent higher.
‘Even after defeating Hyeon Geom, it’s only this much. And if we judged solely by my performance in the tournament, I should have been first overall.’
It revealed just how much prestige people accorded to Shaolin.
All martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin.
The thousand-year Shaolin of the North.
In other words, the greatest sect under heaven.
‘The Sword Master must have wanted to establish this position through Hyeon Geom.’
Perhaps Lakbul sent Adu precisely to obstruct that intention.
“Yang Hwi. Don’t be too nervous. You have more than enough chance of winning.”
When I turned my head, I saw my father.
“Father, it seems like you’re the one who’s nervous.”
Seeing the anxiety etched across his face, I couldn’t help but feel slightly exasperated.
How could you not be confident in victory when you’ve shown such mastery since I was seven years old?
‘Well, I suppose that’s just how a father’s heart works.’
Thinking this way, my heart warmed.
“Father. I will return having made the Baek Family the nest of Jeil-ryong.”
For anyone bearing the Baek name, such words could not be uttered without one’s chest burning with passion.
Baek Heon-so couldn’t contain himself and thrust his right arm upward.
“Wooooooh! Brother! Return as Gaecheon’s greatest dragon!”
“I will!”
I turned my body and walked toward the arena.
I shook out both arms, arranging the hem of my martial robes with style.
In that moment, cheers erupted.
“Waaaaaaah!”
“Gaecheon Geomryong! Gaecheon Geomryong!”
“You must win! I’ve bet my entire fortune on you!”
I laughed and called back to them.
“How can you bet your whole fortune on gambling and then blame someone else?!”
“Puhahahaha!”
“Gaecheon Geomryong’s right! You place the bet yourself and blame others for the loss—that’s the way!”
“Victory! We pray for your victory!”
I gave a light bow and took a single step forward.
I performed several graceful somersaults through the air before landing elegantly on the competition platform.
At that same moment, the Referee raised his left hand sharply.
“The Azure Dragon of the Left! Gaecheon Geomryong of the Baek Family! Baek Yang-hwi!”
Then, next.
Adu bounded onto the competition platform with enthusiastic hops.
Given his compact frame, his movements might be better described as heavy thuds rather than light hops.
“The White Tiger of the Right! Iron Pagoda Fist Dragon of Shaolin! Adu!”
Iron Pagoda Fist Dragon. The epithet suited Adu perfectly—a warrior whose body was as solid and immovable as an iron pagoda.
‘Adu, are you pleased? That title exists because of me, after all.’
In my past life, Adu had already passed into the next world by this time, so there was truth in my words.
“The Dragon-Phoenix Clash Tournament, more heated than ever before! The long-awaited final! Two dragons! Compete for the position of Jeil-ryong!”
“Roaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!”
“Roaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!”
“Shaolin! Shaolin! Iron Pagoda Fist Dragon! Iron Pagoda Fist Dragon!”
“Baek Family! Baek Family! Gaecheon Geomryong! Gaecheon Geomryong!”
The competition had begun.
Now, this was the end.
A journey spanning half a year.
There had been more variables than when I first set up the tournament, but.
Finally, the moment had come to add the finishing touch.
“Adu.”
“Yeah! Hehe!”
“You’re that happy about it?”
“Yeah!”
“What makes you so happy?”
“Yang Hwi! Getting to play against you in the finals!”
He viewed it not as fighting but as playing.
For a warrior, martial arts are indeed a form of play.
‘This is the final stage. I need to deliver the greatest spectacle.’
To do that, well… I felt a bit sorry toward Adu.
“Let me warm up a bit first, shall I?”
After speaking, I unfastened the sword at my waist and hurled it away.
The blade traced a parabolic arc through the air before landing far away.
Just as the spectators and even Adu wore expressions of bewilderment, I spread my legs lightly and extended both fists forward.
“….”
The cheers vanished as if washed away. Sudden silence. And shock.
It couldn’t have been otherwise.
The martial stance I had assumed was unmistakably that of fist techniques, and it was so familiar that many in the crowd recognized it immediately.
“Dharma Five Fists…?”
“Isn’t that some third-rate martial technique?”
“No matter that the Dharma Fist originated from Shaolin, it’s a technique you can buy at any dusty secondhand bookshop in the streets. How could I possibly….”
Adu of Shaolin scratched his bald head vigorously before throwing out a question.
“Yang Hwi. What are you doing?”
“What do you mean? Let me just get a taste of your fists first.”
“But Yang Hwi, you’re a swordsman.”
“It’d feel bad using a sword against a martial artist. For now, let’s fight with fists.”
“….”
Adu fell silent. His aura grew increasingly heavy.
No matter how innocent and pure a six-year-old child might be, there are things one simply understands.
Thump, thump. Sinews bulged across Adu’s bare scalp.
“Yang Hwi!”
“What? Come on in. Let me taste Shaolin’s fists!”
Adu’s chest swelled rapidly.
At the same moment, a sound like several oxen breathing in unison—a sharp, hissing wheeze—echoed through the air.
His forearms thickened. Around them swirled a tempestuous force.
“Yang Hwi! You’re getting it now!”
Adu, absolutely furious!

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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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