When Pae Jin-gwang presented Seo-jun, the Head’s face inevitably twisted.

“Didn’t you say a martial artist below the level of Ilip?”
“That’s right, below Ilip.”

Pae Jin-gwang pointed at Seo-jun.

“How old is he again? Twenty-four, right? Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, twenty-four. Still young.”

The Head, wearing a peculiar expression, finally sighed.

“Fine… you wouldn’t lie over something like this….”

Twenty-four and with such prowess?

It was nearly impossible, but in Murim, improbable things happen often enough.

Even Mu-shin Ju Uncheon reached Hwagyeong at forty.

So, possessing near-Hwagyeong level strength at twenty-four wasn’t entirely out of the question.

Though, to be honest, it still seemed unlikely.

‘Doubting what’s right in front of you is just foolish.’

It seemed that the reputation of the Namgung Clan would resound even louder in the next generation.

“Hah… To think you would deal me such a hand. This is ridiculous.”
“You’re not exactly the cleverest strategist yourself.”
“But still better than you.”

Seo-jun looked at Pae Jin-gwang, who was conversing casually with the Head of Shaolin, with newfound respect.

He knew Pae Jin-gwang was old, but it seemed he had considerable interaction with the Head in his youth.

It made sense—at their age, most people from their generation were probably long gone, and the remaining few would be either close or at odds.

“Well, there’s no way to take back what’s been said now. Heyun.”
“Yes, Head Monk.”
“Since it’s come to this, learn as much as you can. I doubt it will end in a single exchange.”

A warning not to end it in a single move.

Of course, even if he did, no one could complain. Still, Seo-jun, having a bit of conscience, nodded in agreement.

With his expression slightly more relaxed, the Head nodded.

“Let’s move.”

•  

The group headed to the training ground.

The monks who had been watching scattered to their duties, leaving only a few familiar faces behind—Jibaek and Jiam.

It had been a while since Seo-jun had seen Jiam, his long hair still as striking as ever.

Recalling the time when this “senior” was reduced to fury by a playful gesture from Seo-jun, Jiam looked at him with utter disdain.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Seo-jun greeted him with a bright smile and a wave, which only made Jiam scowl and turn his head away in an uncharacteristically bashful manner.

They weren’t the only ones left on the training ground.

The nun Boyeon-shin-ni from the Emei Sect had also followed, and, deep in thought, she finally spoke up.

“Cheongsong.”
“Ah, Boyeon-shin-ni.”
“Yes, it’s been a while.”

Since both Cheongsong and the Emei Sect were based in Sichuan, the two were acquainted.

As one of the prominent figures from Cheongsong, Boyeon-shin-ni recognized him instantly.

“I have something to ask you, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
“That man—who exactly is he?”

Boyeon-shin-ni remembered Seo-jun.

The man who had dared to criticize the Emei Sect over its female quotas.

Yet, with a presence that suggested he had achieved Hwagyeong or something close, and given that they had been the first to show rudeness, they had let it go, thinking he was an elder of Murim.

But now? He wasn’t even at Ilip?

He had revealed his identity and was vouched for by the Fist King, so it couldn’t be a lie, yet she was baffled.

“I don’t know him well either. He’s apparently my friend’s brother-in-law.”
“I see. I did hear he was the Namgung Clan’s son-in-law.”

Boyeon-shin-ni’s gaze shifted to Namgung Myung, standing next to Cheongsong.

Namgung Myung offered a polite bow.

“He’s an outstanding person. Remarkably so.”
“But….”

Her impression of him was anything but conventional.

As Boyeon-shin-ni pondered with a frown, Namgung Su-a chuckled.

She seemed to understand what Boyeon-shin-ni was thinking.

“He just has a bit of a playful side.”
“Oh, and you are…?”

Namgung Su-a lowered her head slightly.

“Namgung Su-a.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the Namgung Clan has a flower. It seems the rumors weren’t exaggerated.”
“You’re too kind.”

With a faint smile, Namgung Su-a looked at Seo-jun, who was preparing for his sparring match.

“He’s kind and compassionate. For those he considers his own, he is incredibly generous.”
“Hm….”

Boyeon-shin-ni refrained from speaking ill of her husband in front of Namgung Su-a.

Namgung Su-a, catching the look, gave her a gentle smile.

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough, Boyeon-shin-ni.”

She seemed genuinely confident.

•  

Facing Heyun, Seo-jun eavesdropped on the conversation.

His sister’s confidence was a bit overwhelming.

‘I’m not exactly known for my pleasant personality.’

Knowing himself well, he scratched his head awkwardly as he looked at Heyun.

“We can start whenever you’re ready.”
“Amitabha… I shall.”

Heyun took his stance.

His left hand stretched forward, open, while his right hand was drawn back in a fist.

His legs were set wide apart, allowing for flexible movement with a springy readiness.

Seo-jun, glancing at Chun-bong watching from a distance, simply relaxed his arms.

He would match Heyun’s fist techniques.

“Here I come.”

No sooner had he spoken than Heyun charged forward.

A golden aura enveloped his body as he seemed to glide through the air, his approach fierce.

At the same time, Heyun launched his drawn-back fist.

Seo-jun raised his left hand, deflecting the punch and immediately countering with Pa-ryeok-gwae-shin-gong with his right.

Heyun responded instantly, spinning with the deflected force and swinging his fist at Seo-jun.

BAM────────!!

Heyun was pushed back with a tremendous sound.

“Hmm…”

Recovering from the impact, Heyun immediately threw another punch.

It was well out of range, far too distant for even a spear to reach.

Dong-!

But with a bell-like chime, golden energy shot towards Seo-jun.

‘Baekboshingwon?’

Guessing what it was, Seo-jun swung his hand broadly.

BAM!

His hand throbbed faintly from deflecting the energy.

“Oh… As expected of Shaolin.”

"天下功夫出少林" (Tianxia gongfu chu Shaolin)

A proud statement meaning “All martial arts come from Shaolin.”

But there was truth to it.

A quick glimpse of Shaolin’s techniques showed they were indeed extraordinary.

Of course, Seo-jun didn’t entirely agree with the saying.

In the near future, the phrase would be replaced by 天下功夫出南宮 — “All martial arts come from Namgung.”

“Mind if I pick up the pace a bit?”

Crack! Seo-jun clenched his fist.

Holding the essence of Heaven, he grasped the brilliance of the Chang-gung Mu-ae Sword Technique, striking with Pa-ryeok-gwae-shin-gong.

Heyun, who had approached, quickly extended both hands in response.

BAM────────!!!

Even blocking with both hands, Heyun was pushed back significantly.

“Urgh…!”

Seo-jun had matched Heyun’s level. The energy in his punches was faint, and his speed and strength were only slightly greater than Heyun’s.

Yet Heyun was being driven back.

The reason was clear to Heyun.

Their understanding of martial arts was fundamentally different.

It wasn’t just about tactics but about grasping the essence of martial arts.

Each punch carried the sharpness of a sword, bursting forth with force on impact, with each movement transitioning seamlessly.

Even with simple techniques, it was challenging to face him.

It wasn’t just brute force.

This realization made Heyun grin.

“Amitabha…!”

Golden energy surged from Heyun, who laughed fiercely as he became shrouded in a radiant aura.

“Ha──────!!”

With a roar, he unleashed his inner power toward Seo-jun.

Simultaneously, Heyun charged forward, his eyes tracking Seo-jun’s movements.

Reading Seo-jun’s techniques, he launched his fist.

Seo-jun, unfazed by the roar, calmly blocked the punch.

Heyun’s attacks flowed without interruption, with precise strikes that sometimes targeted gaps with sharp, upward kicks.

His Baekboshingwon was especially fierce.

Baekboshingwon wasn’t merely a technique for striking from a distance. That was just an added feature.

Its core lay in the sheer power capable of striking a target from a hundred steps away.

That formidable technique targeted Seo-jun’s entire body.

“Oh.”

Seo-jun dodged the punch, twisting his body so it brushed past his nose.

Seo-jun then turned and kicked.

Thud!

The tip of his foot struck Heyun’s chin. Yet Heyun endured it.

Training had strengthened his body, and he wasn’t losing momentum.

‘He’s relentless.’

He was like a bulldozer.

Despite the level difference, Heyun’s tenacity would make him a formidable opponent.

The charging monk, enduring Seo-jun’s energy, struck with unrestrained fists.

In some ways, he resembled Pae Jin-gwang.

Though, there were clear differences.

FAH──────────

The Thousand-Handed Tathagata Palm.

While Heyun’s level wasn’t high enough to create the full effect, ten ghostly hands appeared behind him, each powerful.

They weren’t mere energy but substantial forms.

Seo-jun, curious, allowed one of the hands to strike him.

Fwoom!

Suddenly, Heyun’s actual hand replaced the image.

“This is quite something.”

Heyun’s technique struck Seo-jun’s shoulder, though Seo-jun easily diffused the force and moved his shoulder back, evading further impact.

Watching Seo-jun retreat without a scratch, Heyun felt a sense of futility.

‘What should I do….’

He knew the Head didn’t expect him to win.

But even so, he was still a martial monk, a Mu-seung.

Mu-seung (武僧) — monks who seek enlightenment through martial arts.

Though defeat was inevitable, he didn’t let go of his desire to win.

‘What I need is a blow he can’t deflect.’

He didn’t care if Seo-jun could read his moves.

He only had to endure and land a punch.

“Amitabha….”

Ghostly hands bloomed behind Heyun like petals as he leaped, moving through the air toward Seo-jun with a shining golden fist.

Seo-jun watched calmly.

If it went as usual, he’d deflect and counter.

Deploying the Daebanya Diamond Fist and Baekboshingwon to their full potential, Heyun struck.

DONG────────!!!

With a massive chime, his punch was deflected. Seo-jun’s palm redirected it smoothly.

As expected.

Immediately, a counter came, targeting his abdomen.

Also expected.

Instead of dodging, Heyun took the hit.

BAM!

Heyun staggered.

“Urgh…!”

But he endured, blood trickling from his mouth, refusing to fall back.

Chanting continuously, he let pain pass as fleeting.

Channeling everything into his punch, he planted his foot and lunged forward.

“Amitabha….”

The faint image of a fist, now close to real power, glowed golden as he unleashed it.

Seo-jun, smiling as he watched, marveled.

“Impressive.”

Growing stronger during a duel? Like a novel protagonist.

But for someone like Heyun, who even maintained his bald head for the sake of others, it was fitting.

“Then here’s a gift.”

Seo-jun leaned back, using the extra time to infuse his punch with the essence of Namgung’s Heaven.

Holding it in his fist, he struck with the Heavenly Boldness Fist.

BAM──────────!!!

The collision of their fists created a massive shockwave.

Dust settled, revealing only one person standing.

Seo-jun pressed his palms together toward the fallen Heyun.

“Amitabha… may you go to a good place.”

Of course, he hadn’t killed him.

It had only been a demonstration.

Sure enough, Heyun soon regained consciousness.

“Ugh… I’ve learned something today.”

Heyun, staggering to his feet, pressed his palms together in respect.

Watching him, Seo-jun felt a strange sensation.

The Buddhist energy left a peculiar, slightly unpleasant feeling, which he quickly shook off.

‘What’s that about?’

A strange reaction.

Nothing was wrong with the Buddhist energy itself, but his body seemed to reject it.

Perhaps taking a closer look at Buddhist techniques, like the Yeo-geun Se-sugyeong, might be worth it.

•  

The Head’s face hardened as he watched the end of the match.

Pae Jin-gwang, observing him, subtly checked his reaction.

After all, the last strike had precisely executed the essence of Baekboshingwon.

Meanwhile, Namgung Hyeok was simply ecstatic.

“Oho! Our treasure! The future of Namgung is bright!”

Eyes from all directions shot toward him.