As soon as the duel began, Zhu Yang-il activated his internal energy.

Celestial Sun Emperor's Supreme Flame Art.

He unleashed the imperial martial arts to their full extent, surrounding himself with an intense aura and looking down at the Gold Sword Clan’s successor with a contemptuous gaze.

Like the blazing sun descending upon the earth, his radiant aura exerted a heavy pressure on Chun-bong.

Chun-bong scoffed and used the Azure Cloud Art.

Vrrr—

Silvery-white energy, like clouds, radiated around her, dispersing the pressure.

"So, you truly are the successor of the Gold Sword Clan."

“Shut up, Mr. Hwang.”

"Does the successor of the Gold Sword Clan mistake the noble family name of the imperial line?"

"Noble? Coming from a clan still milking the legacy of a single martial god?"

"It sounds as if you claim the Gold Sword Clan has something beyond a sword god who transcended.”

"Precisely. You'll see soon."

When Chun-bong sneered, Zhu Yang-il clicked his tongue and sheathed his sword.

“Enough. Concede and step down. I have no desire to sully my hands with a lowborn.”

“Lowborn…?”

"Is there any authority left in the Gold Sword Clan, which is now nothing more than a name?”

Chun-bong’s eyebrow twitched slightly.

The onlookers watching the duel frowned. It wasn’t uncommon to use words to disturb an opponent’s composure before a match, but Zhu Yang-il’s words were excessive.

However, it wasn’t something that warranted interference just yet.

In martial arts, skill speaks louder than words.

If the successor of the Gold Sword Clan won the duel, it would directly invalidate Zhu Yang-il’s insult.

Chun-bong suppressed the rising murderous intent and glared at Zhu Yang-il as if she would kill him.

“…Enough. Just draw your sword, will you?”

“No need.”

Zhu Yang-il sneered.

Then he suddenly flinched, an eerie sensation shivering through him.

‘A killing intent?’

He looked up at the sky but saw nothing unusual. Shaking it off as an illusion, he looked down at Chun-bong again.

"No need, you say?"

Chun-bong stepped closer.

“Then take a beating and draw it if you have to.”

Silver light gathered around Chun-bong’s fist as she took a step forward and threw a punch.

Zhu Yang-il swung his hand to deflect it.

Boom—!

With a loud impact, Zhu Yang-il was forced back two steps, his eyebrow arching.

“What the…?”

The martial arts of the Gold Sword Clan were impressive… yes, he acknowledged that.

But with their age difference and the clan’s decline, surely they couldn’t have had the support to fully nurture their successor.

Regardless of the other factors, there should have been a clear difference in power just from the depth of internal energy alone.

And yet, it was Zhu Yang-il who was forced back.

“Interesting.”

He quickly stepped forward again, stretching out both hands.

Chun-bong scoffed.

"Whatever."

She unleashed the full potential of Chun-bong Art.

Chun-bong crouched and evaded his dual-handed strike, then drove her fist into Zhu Yang-il’s abdomen.

Zhu Yang-il’s gaze was still slightly misaligned.

The impression of Chun-bong’s martial arts had etched itself unconsciously into his mind from their previous exchange, and he was now seeing an illusion created by that imprint.

It wasn’t until the last moment that Zhu Yang-il realized her actual position.

His eyes widened, and he twisted his body, but Chun-bong merely smirked and adjusted her punch’s trajectory, slamming it into his abdomen.

Thud—!

With a clean, satisfying impact, Zhu Yang-il was sent flying backward.

“Guh…!”

He tumbled across the ground, clutching his abdomen as he looked up.

His eyes were now bloodshot with emotion, and Chun-bong smirked.

"Arrogant bastard. Still not going to draw your sword?”

The Chun-bong Art… it’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?

To have such a formidable martial art bear her name… it’s exhilarating.

“Cough…! How dare you…”

Srrk— Zhu Yang-il staggered to his feet, drawing his sword. Facing him, Chun-bong drew her sword as well.

The Imperial Family and the Gold Sword Clan.

These two families had always been at odds.

Not only did they share many similarities, but they both used the emblem of the yellow dragon, a source of contention.

In the past, it was said that whenever people from these two families met, they would draw their swords first.

Chun-bong had received thorough early training in the Gold Sword Clan. Just seeing an imperial brat’s face made her annoyed.

She imagined that Zhu Yang-il felt the same.

She was eager to see his arrogant face contort in defeat.

So she immediately sprang into action.

With a swift movement, Chun-bong advanced, her sword trailing silvery energy from the Azure Cloud Art.

Ignoring his throbbing abdomen, Zhu Yang-il raised his sword with both hands.

Celestial Sun Emperor's Supreme Flame Art imbued his sword with the blazing heat of the sun.

As Chun-bong approached, he sharpened his senses, intent on avoiding any previous mistakes.

Aligning his sight with his intuition, he confirmed that it was no illusion and swung his sword down in that instant.

Swoosh—!

What he didn’t realize, however, was that the creator of Chun-bong Art possessed unparalleled talent for manipulating energy, making it foolish to rely on intuition alone to interpret the technique.

Hwooooosh—!

As his sword carved a fiery path, it missed Chun-bong completely, who easily evaded his poorly-aimed strike and thrust her own sword forward.

Azure Dragon Emerges.

A massive azure dragon opened its jaws wide, aiming for Zhu Yang-il.

Realizing the mistake too late, Zhu Yang-il gritted his teeth.

He forcibly twisted his sword mid-swing, shifting his technique in an instant.

Severing Sun.

A rising blade, as if to cleave the sun itself.

Chun-bong chuckled.

“Idiot.”

Did he forget that her sword could overpower his?

If he really wanted to win, he should have rolled on the ground to dodge.

Boom—!

Zhu Yang-il was flung back.

The recoil from forcibly changing his technique caused blood to spurt from his mouth.

Using his sword as a crutch, he struggled to stand but ultimately collapsed, left with no choice but to look up at Chun-bong.

Standing over the writhing Zhu Yang-il, Chun-bong placed her sword at his neck and glanced at the referee.

The referee, gazing at her with a strangely moved expression, announced loudly,

“The winner…! Geum Hee of the Gold Sword Clan…!”

 

Roars erupted as the crowd’s cheers filled the arena.

The thunderous applause sent a shiver through Chun-bong’s body.

Standing in the center of the arena, she looked out over the audience.

It was a sight she had once thought unreachable. But she had made it here at last.

Lee Seo-jun. Her brother. Thanks to his help.

Finally, she could proudly reveal herself.

The finals of the Yongbong Gathering had just begun, but as they say, well begun is half done.

If she advanced to the top eight and earned the title of Phoenix, it would be a significant first step in reviving the Gold Sword Clan.

‘Ah…!’

Overwhelmed with emotion, Chun-bong clasped her fists before everyone.

“The glory of the Gold Sword Clan shall be eternal…!”

Her heart pounded, face flushed with excitement.

Taking a deep breath, she declared,

“…I am Chun-bong of the Gold Sword Clan!”

 

Roaring cheers once again erupted from the crowd.

Some had their doubts, but the energy of the crowd drowned out any reasoned thoughts.

Only the members of the Sixteen Noble Families, watching silently from the sidelines, seemed puzzled.

“Chun-bong? Why Chun-bong of the Gold Sword Clan?”

“Well… I thought her name was Hee.”

As the cheers died down, Chun-bong, a bit calmer now, realized her slip.

The crowd had also heard the name Chun-bong, and as the applause faded, murmurs reached her ears.

Her ears flushed pink, but she stood proudly.

She felt no shame in the name Chun-bong.

Though she preferred not to be called that by anyone other than her brother, it wasn’t a name she needed to hide.

“Hmph… Chun-bong. What a lowly name.”

A voice from behind.

Turning around, she saw Zhu Yang-il, now standing, staring at her.

Chun-bong scowled.

“What’s wrong with Chun-bong?”

“Isn’t it a ridiculous name?”

“Loser sure has a lot to say.”

“…I was deceived by sorcery.”

“Sorcery? Tha—”

Chun-bong paused.

Come to think of it, it did seem a bit like sorcery.

Seo-jun’s techniques often leaned that way.

But whining about sorcery after being thoroughly beaten just made him look pathetic.

“I’d rather not talk with a loser who was knocked out as soon as the finals began.”

“…You arrogant wench.”

Rumble—!

A sudden thunderclap had Zhu Yang-il looking up at the sky, clicking his tongue before turning to leave.

“Well, whatever. I’ll see you nex—”

Boom—!

An explosive sound shattered the silence.

Amidst the dust, the elders widened their eyes.

“An attack!? In Hanam? Who in their right mind…!”

“What about Zhu Yang-il and Geum Hee?”

The elders rushed toward the arena.

As the dust cleared, countless eyes widened in shock.

“Guh…!”

With his head stomped into the ground, Zhu Yang-il was helpless beneath a man whose overwhelming aura dominated the area.

His gaze was not one of a sovereign but rather one looking down on an insect.

The man spoke.

“Chun-bong. Your lively swordplay is like the spring breeze. It suits your new title well, Phoenix of Spring. Among the phoenixes in this generation, you seem to be at the top.”

Imperial guards drew their swords, exuding killing intent.

“Step away from the prince, now!”

The ground cracked further as the guards’ killing intent bore down on him.

For any lesser warrior, their knees would have buckled under the pressure, but the man gazed calmly around him as if it were a gentle breeze.

The onlookers, unsettled yet trusting in the surrounding warriors, held their ground, while imperial guards, elders with cold eyes, and members of the Namgung Clan watched him warily.

The man looked around, then down at the ground beneath his foot.

Zhu Yang-il glared up at him with murderous eyes.

The man covered Zhu Yang-il’s fierce gaze with his foot, pressing his head into the ground.

“Oops, my mistake. I didn’t realize someone was there.”

Seo-jun chuckled and waved at Chun-bong.

“Big brother’s here, Chun-bong.”

“…This guy is insane.”

Chun-bong’s jaw dropped.

 

‘So a successor of the Divine Bloodline still remains?’

Amidst the chaos in the arena, a man slipped away unnoticed.

‘I need to inform them before the plan derails.’

His eyes turned blood-red as nearby sewer rats lifted their heads.

Squeak-squeak—!

Watching the scattering rats, the man grinned.

‘It’s close. Soon…’

The savior, who would cleanse the Central Plains in blood, would arrive.