Ultimate Martial Venerable - Chapter 13

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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 13. The Martial Match Is Mine to Fight
Two months had passed.
During that time, Yuk Beom’s days fell into a simple rhythm: when dawn broke, he climbed the waterfall with the Bongryeok Seok hung around his neck; after sunset, he grappled with medicinal herbs. His fingers had grown hard enough to carve stone, and the wind summoned by his Vital Energy now answered his will before thought could lag behind.
Lost in his training, Yuk Beom had little use for calendars. The only measure of time that mattered was how much farther he could push himself each day, how much longer he could endure each breath compared to the last.
The snow that had blanketed Seoshan had vanished, and tender shoots pushed up through the thawing ground. Bird calls threaded through the thickening grass-scent, yet the Yuk Clan escort moving through the dense forest had no leisure to savor the spring.

“Master Yuk Beom!”

Only echoes returned.
The escort rubbed his dry throat and swallowed a sigh. The family’s only guidance had been to wander the mountain calling Yuk Beom’s name. Even Yuk Ho did not know exactly where the young master trained.

“Master Yuk Beom! If you can hear me, please answer!”

Crack.
The nearby underbrush suddenly thrashed.
The escort’s face brightened.

“Master Yuk Beom, is that you?”

What emerged from the brush was not human.
A black wolf, tall as a man’s waist, flashed eyes of brilliant blue. A full-grown Blue-Eyed Wolf

was a savage creature that could match a martial artist of the Soft Body Realm’s sixth stage.
The escort, only at the fourth stage of the Soft Body Realm, felt the blood drain from his face.
He drew the Long Sword from his belt in haste. The Blue-Eyed Wolf did not charge immediately, but circled low with a rumbling growl, its blue eyes sweeping alternately across his throat and wrists.
Cold sweat beaded on the escort’s brow.

‘I won’t find Master Yuk Beom—I’ll be dead before that.’

The Blue-Eyed Wolf planted its hind legs against the ground.
As its black form hurtled forward, the escort swung his Long Sword. But before the blade could find purchase, the wolf’s jaws clamped down on the steel.
Crunch!
The wolf wrenched its head violently, and the Long Sword tore free from the escort’s grip. The blade flew through the air and clattered against a tree trunk, falling distant.
The escort stumbled backward, hand fumbling at his belt. Only one small Short Blade remained.
The Blue-Eyed Wolf crouched low again.

‘This is the end.’

The moment the beast lunged with jaws spread wide, a sharp crack split the forest air.
Whip!
The Blue-Eyed Wolf’s body wrenched sideways mid-leap.
Thud!
The wolf hit the ground and moved no more. The escort’s eyes widened as he stared at its head.
A single ordinary branch protruded from its skull, driven deep into the earth below.

‘He drove a branch through the Blue-Eyed Wolf’s skull?’

As the escort struggled to breathe, a figure stepped from between the trees.
His trousers were tattered below the knee, the fabric barely holding together, and his upper garment was riddled with tears. His exposed arms and chest bore numerous scars both large and small. Around his neck hung a single blocky stone of dark color.
His body had hardened beyond recognition, and his eyes had grown clear and settled. Almost no trace of the lean boy from before remained. Standing perfectly still, he seemed to ripple with suppressed strength beneath his skin.
Yet his face was unmistakably Yuk Beom’s.

“Master Yuk Beom?”
“That’s me.”

Yuk Beom glanced once at the dead Blue-Eyed Wolf, then turned his gaze to the escort.

“You’re from the Yuk Clan. What brings you so deep into the mountains?”

Only then did the escort’s wits return to him.

“Today is the day of the Seoshan Hunting Tournament! The clan head and Master Yuk Ho are waiting for you at the foot of the mountain.”

Yuk Beom’s expression hardened.

“Today?”

Since he’d begun his training, he’d counted only the rising and setting of the sun. Climbing the waterfall, enduring the weight of the Bongryeok Seok, absorbed in handling medicinal herbs—he’d completely lost track of the calendar.
His escort stared at him with an incredulous look.
The event where all of Ganglim Castle’s renowned families gathered, and the very person involved had forgotten about it.
Yuk Beom rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Let’s go. Any longer and Grandfather might come up the mountain himself.”

He began descending the mountain path.
The escort hurried to pick up the Long Sword and followed. As he did, his gaze flickered between the dead Blue-Eyed Wolf and Yuk Beom’s back.
Yuk Beom walked lightly with the Bongryeok Seok hanging from his neck, moving as easily as if he were crossing flat ground. A small stone pressed down upon him with the weight of a thousand pounds, yet there was no hesitation in his stride.
The escort, running at full speed, could barely keep up. While the escort’s breath came hard and fast, Yuk Beom’s breathing remained perfectly steady.

‘There will be more than a few surprises at this tournament.’

Whether it would end as mere surprise was itself doubtful.
* * *
A massive stone platform stood at the entrance to Seoshan.
In earlier days, Seoshan had been a dangerous mountain teeming with wild beasts and ferocious creatures. To protect Ganglim Castle, several martial families regularly ascended to hunt them—a tradition that had evolved into today’s Seoshan Hunting Tournament.
Now, wild beasts were rarely seen except in the deepest parts of the mountain. Instead, the event had transformed into a competition where the young scions of each family tested their hunting skills and martial prowess against one another.
The first competition measured the number of beasts hunted; in the second, the families directly measured martial strength atop the stone platform. The hunts tested judgment and tracking ability, while the Martial Matches revealed the true martial power of the younger generation.
Since the strength of the younger generation was taken as the future of the family itself, victory and defeat carried weight in terms of family prestige and standing. That was why it was considered the second-largest event in Ganglim Castle, after the Year-end Competition.
Beneath the stone platform, representatives of renowned families and merchant houses filled the space. Front and center were the seating areas for the Yuk Clan, the Mak Clan, and the Jang Clan, arranged side by side.
Once, the Yuk Clan and the Mak Clan had contested for dominance over Ganglim Castle. This year, with Jang Wol Ham’s entry into the Martial Arts Academy, the Jang Clan had wedged itself into the rivalry.
Yuk Ho Yeon’s expression was not particularly bright.
Across from him, Mak Cheon, the head of the Mak Clan,

wore a constant smirk as he watched him.

“Yuk Ho Yeon, your Yuk Myeong’s training seems less impressive than expected. Three months at the Martial Arts Academy and he’s still only at the eighth level of the Soft Body Realm.”

Yuk Ho Yeon let out a derisive snort.

“Mak Un Bi has been at the academy for over a year now and still hasn’t achieved Strong Energy. Seems you’re in no position to concern yourself with others’ affairs.”
“Un Bi has already crossed the threshold. How can you compare a child about to enter the Inner Gangjing Realm with one who hasn’t taken a single step forward in three months?”

Yuk Ho Yeon didn’t respond.
The moment his opponent fell silent, Mak Cheon’s smile grew all the more triumphant.
Yuk Ho Yeon lowered his voice and turned to Yuk Ho, seated behind him.

“Has Beom arrived yet?”
“We sent someone. He should be here soon.”

Yuk Ho too kept glancing back up the mountain path. He knew his son was training on Seoshan, but nothing of the exact location or what he was learning.
Then commotion erupted from the rear.
When Yuk Ho turned, he saw Yuk Beom approaching quickly with a single escort.
Relief flashed across his face, only to stiffen oddly when he took in Yuk Beom’s appearance.
Laughter broke out around them almost at once.

“He came to the tournament looking like that?”
“He’s wearing a rag, not clothes.”
“The Yuk Clan pushed him forward for a while, but nothing’s changed after all.”
“That story about him beating Yuk Cheon Gang at the Year-end Competition—wasn’t that just something the family made up?”

Some pointed openly; others shook their heads, claiming the rumors had been exaggerated.
Yuk Beom paid neither group any attention.
He knew what they were looking at, what made them laugh. The torn clothes and scarred body spoke plainly enough—his appearance was indeed shabby.
But during those two months in Seoshan, he’d had no luxury to worry about his garments. Each time he fell from the waterfall, cloth tore. Each time he struck rock, new wounds bloomed across his skin. Those marks were no shame—they were proof that he’d endured.
He moved at once to stand behind Yuk Ho.

“Father.”
“Sit down for now.”

Yuk Ho examined his son’s arms and face. The clothes were a disaster, but his eyes held clarity, and his frame radiated a far firmer strength than before.

“What manner of training leaves you in such a state? Didn’t you know several clans were gathering today?”
“Once I began training, I lost track of the days.”

Yuk Ho exhaled, then lowered his voice further.

“And was there any result?”

Yuk Beom smiled.

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

Yuk Ho’s expression softened at once.
His son had said the same thing the day before the Year-end Competition. And he had overturned everyone’s expectations.
Mak Cheon glanced at the two, then spoke to Yuk Ho Yeon.

“The elder speaks of training, and training is well enough—but shouldn’t the boy learn proper decorum first? Look at the state of him, with all these clans watching.”

Yuk Ho Yeon’s eyes widened.

“A young martial artist tears his clothes training in the mountains—what of it? You were far worse in your youth, running naked through the streets of Ganglim Castle when drunk.”

Mak Cheon’s smile froze solid.
Jang Am, the Jang Clan head sitting nearby, leaned forward with keen interest.

“Did you truly do such a thing, Clan Head Mak?”

Mak Cheon’s cold gaze silenced him. Jang Am coughed awkwardly and looked away.
In that moment, drums sounded on both sides of the stone platform.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The heavy drumbeats sent mountain birds scattering skyward—the signal that the young men returning from the hunt were approaching.
Everyone’s eyes turned toward the mountain path at once.
A moment later, dozens of young martial artists emerged. At their head walked Mak Un Bi and Jang Wol Ham side by side.
Both carried their hands full of game. The waiting attendants rushed to receive the kills and began counting.
Most of the other young men had brought back only one or two beasts.
The Yuk Clan members scanned anxiously for Yuk Myeong. If he couldn’t beat Mak Un Bi in a martial match, he’d need to score points on the hunt.
But Yuk Myeong, arriving last, emerged with empty hands.
His gait was unsteady.
Yuk Pung sprang to his feet and rushed toward his son.

“Yuk Myeong—where is your game?”

Yuk Myeong stared at Mak Un Bi with bloodshot eyes.

“Mak Un Bi and that woman took it all.”

All eyes turned toward Jang Wol Ham.
Jang Wol Ham didn’t so much as glance at Yuk Myeong, simply returning to sit beside her father. The ease between her and Mak Un Bi—they had moved as one on the mountain—made clear who her true partner had been. There was no awkwardness between them at all.
Yuk Myeong watched her and clenched his teeth. He must have believed that even after entering the Martial Arts Academy, she would remain at his side.
Mak Un Bi let out a scornful laugh.

“Only someone with the strength to win would say they were robbed. If you couldn’t keep it, it was never yours to begin with.”

Yuk Myeong’s face flushed crimson.
The moment he opened his mouth to respond, dark blood spilled from his lips.

“Yuk Myeong!”

Yuk Pung rushed forward to catch his son. Only then did the onlookers notice the deep impression of a fist embedded in Yuk Myeong’s chest.
Yuk Ho Yeon’s eyes turned cold.

“Not content with stealing the game, the Mak Clan wounds people as well. Your skill is remarkable indeed.”

Mak Cheon showed no hint of remorse.

“We encountered each other in the mountains—clashes happen. You should be grateful Un Bi held back and didn’t take his life.”

The two old men’s gazes collided in the air like jagged steel.
The announcer hurried onto the stone platform, cutting through the tension.

“I will now announce the results of the first hunting event!”

Mak Un Bi and Jang Wol Ham had each caught ten beasts. They were tied for first place.
Jang Am and the members of the Jang Clan cheered, and Mak Cheon stroked his beard with satisfaction.
The Yuk Clan side fell silent.
Returning empty-handed from the hunt was bitter enough, but their greatest hope, Yuk Myeong, had been injured as well. Meanwhile, the Mak Clan and Jang Clan surged ahead, both claiming first place.

“The first event concludes here. We now begin the second event—the Martial Match!”

All eyes turned toward the stone platform.
Yuk Myeong, supported by Yuk Pung as he returned to his seat, could not raise his head.

“I apologize. I am not in a condition to compete in the Martial Match.”

Yuk Ho Yeon exhaled slowly.
Among the young members of the Yuk Clan, Yuk Myeong had been the one most likely to stand against Mak Un Bi. But he had been wounded before the bout could even begin.
Whispers already circulated through the crowd that the Yuk Clan would suffer a complete defeat at this year’s competition.
Yuk Beom looked at the stone platform, then at Mak Un Bi in turn.
Three months ago—that face which had scattered red peppers on the street and mocked him as he gathered them up.
That day, he had bowed his head and picked up the herbs.
Now things were different.
Yuk Beom spoke quietly.

“I will compete in the Martial Match.”

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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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