High noon.

At one corner of the Sparring Stage stood Cheonjeong.

And at the other stood Cheonju.

Cheonjeong’s smile twisted with tension.

Cheonju was a cut above Cheonhwa.

Of all the opponents to draw, it had to be the trickiest one.

“I’ll learn a move from you today, Head Senior.”

Cheonju smiled faintly.

It was a relaxed smile, brimming with confidence.

“Very well. I’ll ask you for a move as well.”

Both performed their respective Banner-Forms.

The seats stirred.

Because their opening displays were different.

“Isn’t that… not the Banner-Form of the Sprouting Flower Sword?”

“I’ve seen it! I’ve seen it! That’s the Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword…!”

“At that age already? A true jewel of Mount Hua!”

Only Eunsong and Soyak looked out at the Sparring Stage without anxiety.

Even Cheongak and Cheongu sighed, uneasy.

“Senior Cheongak, what has you so worried?”

“What do you mean! I’m worried Head Senior will get smashed by Senior Cheonju!”

“Have faith in Head Senior.”

“Good grief, as if that’s so easy…”

Cheongu joined Cheongak in groaning.

Of course both had heard it.

That they would be using the Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword in earnest—

And that one could not defeat a blade you had in your hand: the Sprouting Flower Sword you were used to.

Yet even so…

Those two had already cut down many of Mount Hua’s Third Generation to get here.

Among them were disciples who used the Sprouting Flower Sword.

“Is it really possible to beat the Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword with the Sprouting Flower Sword?”

“Yes, Soyak. Cheongak’s worried, and so am I, right now…”

Soyak nodded in place of her master.

“Head Senior will win.”

“…Did you feed him something?”

“No. I showed him the opening three forms of the Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword.”

At that, Cheongak and Cheongu’s eyes went round.

The Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword was Mount Hua’s peerless canon.

It was never taught to branch-line disciples.

In other words, there was no way to learn the opening forms of the Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword outside the main Mount Hua sect.

“How—how did you learn it?!”

Cheongak stared wide-eyed between Eunsong and Soyak.

Eunsong smirked and tossed out a line that would send the two deeper into worry.

“I’m not the one who taught her, Cheongak.”

“You didn’t teach her, Master?!”

Now even Cheongu’s eyes flew wide.

Then where, and how, had she learned it?

At that moment, the shrill clash of steel rang out.

“I’ll tell you later.”

With a single sentence, Soyak dismissed their questions and pointed to the Sparring Stage.

She meant for them to focus on Head Senior’s match.

The two hastily fixed their eyes on the bout.

For no other reason than this…

If the Sprouting Flower Sword really could topple the Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword, they had to see it.

CLANG—!

Blades tangled in a blur.

On one side, forms the eye already knew by heart:

The blade-path of the Sprouting Flower Sword.

On the other side, something they had seen rarely but had not yet learned:

The blade-path of the Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword.

Amazingly, the two swords were meeting on fairly even terms.

“…Huh?”

“He’s fighting… quite well?”

Cheongak and Cheongu tilted their heads.

But for Cheonjeong, the reality was the exact opposite—pure hell.

Damn it, even using only the first three forms…!

It was clearly rough.

The forms were powerful, precise, and wondrous—but he was not drawing out all of that.

What he swung was merely powerful and precise swordplay.

Even that alone was enough to give a crushing sense of pressure, a soaring martial art…

But that was all.

If it was only strong and precise, it could be blocked and diverted.

To be truly called a divine, peerless art, it had to possess the mystery:

To be there and not there, and not be there yet be there.

Cheonju’s sword did not have it.

That was the one thing that let Cheonjeong endure.

“Excellent, Head Senior.”

Cheonju spoke with leisure.

But Cheonjeong had no room to answer.

Had Soyak not shown him the first three forms, he would have been done for.

On the first move, he wouldn’t even have known where to block.

But now it was different.

He was growing accustomed, step by step.

In the end, martial arts are the act of tracing forms.

The deeper one received and realized that mystery, the more one could split and expand the forms…

But Cheonju had not yet reached that degree.

Therefore, if you grasped the preliminary motion, you could foresee the next move.

The same held for his opponent.

Cheonju, too, had practiced the Sprouting Flower Sword for a long time.

In raw endowment and talent, Cheonju was, if anything, a notch above Cheonjeong.

Which meant that the level at which Cheonjeong split and expanded the forms, Cheonju likewise could read.

They knew each other well.

After a back-and-forth that did not seem likely to end, Cheonju was the first to open distance.

“It seems it’s time to finish this.”

“…Is it.”

Cheonjeong’s sword cried first.

A low, auspicious ring.

Sword Cry.

Cheonju’s blade did the same.

Unlike Cheonjeong’s, a more anxious, rougher, fiercer wail rolled over the Sparring Stage.

Yet Cheonjeong’s blade-song was not driven back.

“…Hah?”

Cheonju’s lips twisted.

Because it was more than he had expected.

He himself was in a state where the wall toward Apex was at his fingertips—

He stood at the very end of First-Rate.

Then didn’t that mean Cheonjeong was there as well?

Just a short while ago he had been barely mid–First-Rate.

In the meantime, by some realization, he had come right up to stand near the realm where Cheonju had been a notch higher.

“…You’re not the only one there, Cheonju.”

Breath ragged with exhaustion.

Momentum driven to the hilt.

But his eyes flashed like never before.

Enough to make one think he was not the Head Senior they knew.

“Come.”

“I’m coming.”

The first to launch was Cheonju.

The tip of his sword bent like a willow—then shot straight in.

Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword, Second Form — Snow Cannot Break the Plum.

A plum branch that even a blizzard cannot break.

A strike that a half-hearted form can neither divert nor block.

A thrust as supple and sharp as a plum branch.

A higher sword than the Sprouting Flower Sword’s First Form, Branch Toward the Rising Sun, both tougher and more wondrous.

Yet Cheonjeong remained calm.

The very sword he had presented, only to be broken by Soyak.

He recalled that plum blossom—so red it was nearly black—that had enthralled him to the end.

…An early-blooming young plum.

By then, several plum blossoms had already opened at the tip of Cheonju’s sword.

Gasps rippled through the seats.

An instant felt stretched to eternity…

And at last, Cheonjeong began to move.

Sprouting Flower Sword, Absolute Form — Full Bloom, Burning Desire.

It was a flower bud that had never quite opened.

But not this time.

Sprouting Flower achieved the full bloom it had yearned for, and at last forced young petals to sprout.

Five-petaled plum blossoms were engraved along the path traced by his sword tip.

As the Sword Cry howled, a heady plum fragrance rose full.

And then, they bloomed.

They were unmistakably crimson plums.

Plum blossoms wrought by the Sprouting Flower Sword.

“Again, with the Sprouting Flower Sword, plum blossoms…!”

“Who on earth taught those two children?!”

“How did they drive basic work to such depth…”

Following Cheon Soyak, a second blooming of plums from the Sprouting Flower Sword.

The plums of the Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword are a capacity inherent to the art itself.

But for a bloom to open from the Sprouting Flower Sword…

One cannot lean on the polished mystery of preset forms.

One forces it at the sword tip through one’s own realization.

When Soyak did it, everyone’s eyes had been drawn to the color of the blossoms.

But now it was different.

This was Mount Hua’s full, proper red plum.

A vivid crimson.

And when the instant stretched like eternity at last reached its end—

The two sword tips struck together.

Their blade-songs overlapped and made a beautiful harmony, then twisted past one another to seek the other’s body.

In that moment, Cheonjeong saw Cheonju’s eyes.

And he was certain.

This was a killing move.

A stroke resolved to kill.

“…You!”

Cheonjeong wrenched his blade-tip aside with difficulty.

The blade-path of the forms collapsed, and the two swords, locked together, sprang apart.

The one who suffered the greater shock was, as expected, Cheonjeong.

Blood flowed.

Down his fingers, from his split palm.

Black blood was trickling from his lips as well.

In the end, Cheonjeong sank to his knees.

“…Khuek.”

“Why did you do that, Senior?”

Cheonju looked down at Cheonjeong with a complicated gaze.

He could have met a killing move with a killing move, that was all.

Grip the sword a little harder and push the tip into the throat—done.

“Head Senior as you are… would you truly use a killing move on your junior?”

Cheonju’s pupils wavered.

He had thrust a killing move without compunction.

Because the intuition had struck him that he could not win otherwise.

His Sprouting Flower Sword was deeper and firmer, and now his realm was the same as Cheonju’s…

If he did not go that far, he might lose.

Cheonjeong pressed a knee and forced himself up.

The internal injury was not severe—but it wasn’t something to take lightly, either.

He would need at least a month of rest.

“The victory is yours, Cheonju.”

“…Yes.”

The seats listened in hush to their final exchange.

Step, step.

Cheonjeong trudged down from the Sparring Stage…

And before anyone else, Cheongak and Cheongu flew over with Lightness Arts to support him.

Chapter 28

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