Despite his ambitious expectations, Seo-jun was not immediately set to face Dam Jeil in the next match.

Having received a bye in the first round, Seo-jun's next opponent was a martial artist named Seo Bok-woo, not Dam Jeil.

"Please go easy on me. I am Seo Bok-woo of the Biyugom-gwan."

Seo-jun returned the gesture of respect, clasping his fist in his palm.

"I'm Lee Seo-jun, Chun-bong's big brother."

Seo Bok-woo’s expression turned a bit odd at that introduction, but Seo-jun didn’t pay it any mind.

Judging by his level, Seo Bok-woo seemed to be a first-rate martial artist, likely participating in the tournament more for experience than with serious hopes of winning. In fact, very few of the participants here were peak-level martial artists. Most were either first-rate or second-rate, and the real competition would begin in the main rounds with the peak-level fighters.

“Ahem.”

After clearing his throat to grab their attention, the Huashan Sect martial artist overseeing the match signaled for them to get ready.

“Begin!”

As soon as the Huashan martial artist raised his hand, Seo Bok-woo charged forward, his sword emitting a faint layer of sword energy as he aimed for Seo-jun’s shoulder.

It was a sharp strike, but still nothing compared to Chun-bong’s level.

Seo-jun nonchalantly drew his sword and deflected the attack using the Unryu Cheongcheon technique, letting Seo Bok-woo's blade slide harmlessly past. In a flash, Seo-jun’s sword was at his opponent’s throat.

And just like that, it was over.

The arena fell silent.

“…Winner, Lee Seo-jun!”

Only after the Huashan Sect martial artist announced the result did the spectators begin murmuring among themselves.

“Lee Seo-jun? Have you heard of him?”

“Never. But Seo Bok-woo wasn’t a pushover either…”

Seo Bok-woo, who had been standing in a daze, finally snapped out of it and offered a shaky fist-palm salute.

“…I’ve learned a lot from you.”

“You did well.”

Seo-jun, showing appropriate courtesy, stepped down from the arena, scratching his neck.

‘Is it because it’s just the preliminaries?’

His opponent’s skill level hadn’t been particularly satisfying.

Meanwhile, Dam Jeil had fought another match and secured his victory.

With Dam Jeil having fought twice and Seo-jun only once, it might have seemed unfair, but no one here voiced such complaints. After all, with over a thousand participants in the preliminaries, everyone knew there was no point in protesting—no one would listen.

In a regular martial arts tournament, the fighters might not have been so quiet about it. Martial artists usually preferred to solve their issues by swinging swords rather than by thinking things through. But that was the power of the Huashan Sect—it commanded respect and maintained order.

“I saw you fight earlier, and you did pretty well! But you’re no match for me! Why don’t you save yourself the pain and surrender?”

Dam Jeil’s words made Seo-jun casually rub his ears. Surrounded by all these loud men, he found himself just wanting to go back and pinch Chun-bong’s cheeks.

“Lee Seo-jun, Dam Jeil, step forward.”

At the referee’s call, Seo-jun stood up and made his way to the arena, followed closely by Dam Jeil, who clicked his tongue as he trailed behind.

Facing off against Dam Jeil, Seo-jun absentmindedly fiddled with his sword. He wasn’t joking—the withdrawal symptoms were starting to kick in. His hands were shaking, his heart was pounding. If he didn’t get to squeeze Chun-bong’s cheeks soon, he felt like he might accidentally stab Dam Jeil in the gut.

“Hey, old man.”

“Huh?”

“You’d better block this well.”

As Seo-jun drew his sword, Dam Jeil let out a mocking laugh.

“What nonsense! Worry about yourself, kid!”

The referee gave them both a glance before shouting, “Begin!”

The moment the word was spoken, Dam Jeil charged forward with heavy, thunderous footsteps.

Boom! Boom!

His footfalls shook the arena as if it might collapse, yet his body moved swiftly, a prime example of perfect movement technique.

Seo-jun took a deep breath and twisted the grip on his sword.

‘Don’t kill him. Seriously.’

He had no interest in filming some over-the-top drama with the Huashan Sect members.

In an instant, Dam Jeil was right in front of him, his massive sword descending toward Seo-jun’s shoulder.

“Hyaaah!”

Even before the blade connected, the pressure from the wind was enough to bear down on his shoulder. Rather than resisting the force, Seo-jun used it to his advantage, spinning his body with the motion.

The essence of the Wang Family Sword Technique was simple—one strike, one kill.

As Seo-jun rotated, a clear golden energy shimmered along his blade.

It was impossible, but it was happening.

Seo-jun’s blade slashed through Dam Jeil’s descending sword.

“What the—!”

Dam Jeil’s eyes widened in shock.

Seo-jun’s sword continued its arc.

At the end of the blade’s path lay Dam Jeil’s thick neck.

Thin skin. Thick muscles. Tendons and veins. A solid core of bone. Then tendons, muscles, and skin again.

Seo-jun’s lips curled into a wide grin.

“Whew, damn. That was close.”

His sword stopped just short, grazing Dam Jeil’s neck.

“Huff… huff…”

Dam Jeil collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. A thin line of blood trickled from the shallow cut on his neck.

As he clutched his throat, trying to steady his breathing, Dam Jeil locked eyes with Seo-jun and trembled uncontrollably.

The ground beneath him grew damp with a yellowish liquid.

“Oh, come on! Seriously?!”

Seo-jun leaped away from Dam Jeil in disgust.

“Old man! Did you seriously wet yourself?! You’re not that old, are you?!”

“Grr…”

And with that, Dam Jeil fainted.

Seo-jun’s jaw dropped.

“Are you kidding me…?”

Unbyeok, the Huashan Sect martial artist in charge of group seventy-eight, watched the martial artist who had just finished his match.

‘So his name is Lee Seo-jun.’

His attitude had seemed too carefree, so Unbyeok had assumed he was just another riffraff. But his skills had been unexpectedly impressive.

Especially that last move.

The faint manifestation of a blade around his sword.

That was something only martial artists whose spirit had a deep connection with the blade could achieve.

A smirk formed on Unbyeok’s lips.

‘So his true weapon isn’t a sword but a blade, huh?’

There were always a few who hid their real weapon to throw off their opponents.

But no one could fool Unbyeok’s eyes.

‘With that level of skill, he’ll make it quite far. But no matter how lucky he is, he might win one or two more matches at best.’

The purity of his blade energy was decent, but his swordsmanship wasn’t particularly exceptional.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to offer a bit of encouragement to someone in his group.

“Congratulations on advancing to the main round.”

Unbyeok approached Seo-jun and handed him a token. The number seventy-eight was etched into it.

“This token proves you’ve advanced to the main tournament. Be sure not to lose it.”

“Ah, thanks. So, is that it for today?”

“Yes. If I may offer a word of advice, for the main tournament—”

Whoosh!

Before he could finish, Seo-jun had already disappeared from sight, his figure vanishing in a blur.

“...Huh.”

Unbyeok blinked in surprise at the sudden departure.

With a sigh, he turned back toward the arena.

There, lying in a puddle of his own urine, was the unconscious Dam Jeil.

Unbyeok’s face twisted in disgust.

“Damn it all…”

Using the Hwangryong Doha technique to move swiftly, Seo-jun quickly located the area where group 125 was gathered.

‘There it is.’

Just in time, too. Chun-bong was about to begin her match, standing opposite her opponent.

She had her juknip pulled low and her face hidden behind a veil, making her look quite mysterious.

But her small stature just made her look adorable.

“Go, Chun-bong!”

Chun-bong turned her head and shrugged her shoulders.

A sudden sense of peace washed over Seo-jun.

Feeling as though he had reached enlightenment, Seo-jun settled into his seat to watch the match.

Chun-bong’s opponent looked rather scrawny, but his handsome face irritated Seo-jun.

‘That bastard better not put a single scratch on her.’

If he did, Seo-jun would crack his skull open, Huashan Sect be damned.

“Begin!”

At the referee’s signal, Chun-bong made the first move.

She slid forward gracefully, drawing her sword and spinning in one fluid motion.

Clang!

Her opponent blocked the strike.

But Chun-bong’s sword remained stuck to his.

‘Chakui Myori.’

Seo-jun was impressed. That wasn’t qi manipulation—it was pure swordsmanship.

By keeping her sword pressed against her opponent’s blade, she was controlling his movements.

The opponent tried to shake her sword off, but Chun-bong’s blade wouldn’t budge.

Instead, when he applied force,

Whoosh!

Chun-bong used that force to send his sword flying upward.

“Ah!”

And just like that, the match was over.

“Winner, Chun-bong!”

Her opponent stared at the sharp blade resting against his neck before lowering his head in defeat.

“…I’ve lost.”

“You fought well.”

The two exchanged respectful bows before the supervisor of group 125 handed Chun-bong her token and said something to her.

Watching from a distance, Seo-jun scratched his chin.

‘Martial artists…’

Every time he saw Chun-bong fight, it reminded him how different she was from the amateurs.

Her martial arts went beyond qi manipulation. There was a mystique in the way she wielded her weapon.

The swordsmanship she had just displayed wasn’t the Cheongun Divine Sword.

She had only used Chakui Myori and nothing else, yet the match had felt less like a fight and more like watching a work of art unfold.

“She’s really something.”

Unable to hold back, Seo-jun jumped up and scooped Chun-bong into his arms.

“Eek…!”

“My Chun-bong is amazing!”

“Hey! Put me down! Not in public!”

“Up we go!”

“Ah, damn it!”

In the end, he got hit with a few cat punches, but his back pain was gone.

As they walked away from the arena together, Seo-jun suddenly thought of something.

“Hey, do you think I should avoid using Merged Origin Sun and Moon Technique in the tournament?”

“…Do you even need to ask?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Unless he wanted to turn his opponent into minced meat, it was best to refrain from using it.

“What about Merged Origin Divine Art? Is that okay?”

“That should be fine. The energy is pure, so it won’t be mistaken for dark arts or sorcery.”

“Then what was with that old man from Cheongha Sect?”

With a puzzled look, Seo-jun scratched his chin, but eventually nodded in agreement.

“Alright, I guess that’s fine. I’ll win everything.”

“Pfft. I’m going to win, thank you very much.”

“What! How dare you challenge your big brother?”

“Shut up.”

Laughing, Seo-jun playfully tapped Chun-bong’s hat.

“Anyway, let’s go grab some food.”

“Oh? Fancy seeing you here again.”

A familiar voice made Seo-jun turn his head.

“Oh, big boobs.”

He looked at the person but saw only her chest.

His hand instinctively went for his sword, but Chun-bong pinched his side really, really hard.

“Ow!”

“Are you insane?!”

“W-what?!”

“What do you mean, ‘big boobs’? Are you out of your mind?!”

Wait, did I say that out loud?

Seo-jun grinned sheepishly.

“Oh, sorry about that. But seriously, they are huge.”