“The winner of the duel is—!”

The Abbot's voice resonated.

Seo-jun, who was just about to press his foot down on Ju Cheol-yak’s head, casually stepped back.

‘What a shame.’

Even if he intended to crush the man's head here, the Abbot would undoubtedly intervene.

There was no need to risk provoking the Abbot by killing this man outright. If it came to it, Seo-jun could leave that task to Baek Seo-jun later.

“The Elder of the Namgung Clan and the successor of the Gold Sword Clan, Lee Seo-jun!”

 

A thunderous cheer erupted.

The Abbot's declaration marked the end of a duel between two peak-level masters, a rare spectacle in any martial artist’s lifetime. The overwhelming brilliance of the clash had left the crowd in awe.

Even those who couldn’t follow the speed of their movements were captivated by the sight of blazing flames and a golden dragon tearing through the battlefield.

However, the more experienced martial artists grew quieter.

Seo-jun’s overwhelming performance was striking enough, but what truly left them stunned was his counter-technique.

To completely dismantle the martial art of a renowned sect and make a mockery of his opponent with such ease…

“This is dangerous…” muttered one of the elders from the Tang Clan, his gaze heavy.

Though no one openly voiced their concerns, many shared the same thought.

Of course, no one naively believed Seo-jun had devised the counter-technique on the spot.

Clearly, he had prepared it beforehand.

The real questions were twofold:
How had he obtained knowledge of the Imperial Celestial Flame Supreme Art?
And how had he developed a counter so precise that Ju Cheol-yak was rendered utterly powerless?

“I won, didn’t I?”

Seo-jun seemed unconcerned.

Amused by the reactions around him, he looked down at Ju Cheol-yak with a smirk.

“You didn’t forget about the bet, did you?”

The loser must kneel and apologize.

Ju Cheol-yak rose shakily to his feet, his face a mask of rage. Though he looked ready to swing his sword, he knew better.

Refusing to accept defeat here would only tarnish the Imperial Family’s honor.

His clenched jaw and bloodshot eyes betrayed his fury, but he eventually sank to his knees, trembling.

“I apologize for insulting the Gold Sword Clan,” he forced out.

“The Gold Sword Clan,” Seo-jun corrected.

Ju Cheol-yak gritted his teeth. “I apologize for insulting the Gold Sword Clan.”

“Hmm. Who apologizes so stiffly? Where’s the respect?” Seo-jun retorted.

Crack.

A sharp noise accompanied the sight of blood trickling from Ju Cheol-yak’s lips. His bloodshot eyes overflowed with tears of frustration, a clear sign of inner turmoil.

On the brink of a mental breakdown, Ju Cheol-yak took deep, ragged breaths before speaking again.

“I deeply… apologize for insulting the Gold Sword Clan.”

Seo-jun considered dragging it out further, making him repeat the apology twenty more times. But with so many eyes watching, he decided against it.

“Fine, fine. Just conduct yourself properly from now on,” Seo-jun said, patting Ju Cheol-yak’s bowed head like a child.

The murderous aura emanating from Ju Cheol-yak tickled his skin, but Seo-jun found it amusing rather than threatening.

Looking up, he grinned at the Abbot.

“All done now?”

“…Yes,” the Abbot replied, his expression complicated.

From the moment Seo-jun mimicked the essence of the Hundred Steps Divine Fist, to the counter-technique he displayed in this duel, the young man had repeatedly defied common sense.

This boy would undoubtedly bring a storm to the martial world.

‘At least he’s on this side,’ thought the Abbot with relief.

If someone like Seo-jun had emerged from the Demonic Sect or the Black Lotus Society, the headache would have been ten times worse.

Not that it wasn’t already a headache now.

“…Hah.” The Abbot sighed deeply.

 

Kneeling and apologizing before a crowd of onlookers was a blow beyond humiliation.

For someone as proud as Ju Cheol-yak, it was a devastating, soul-crushing experience.

‘I saw this coming.’

Descending the arena steps, Seo-jun clicked his tongue at the oppressive killing intent aimed at his back.

Ju Cheol-yak, weakened by inner turmoil and barely able to stand, was still radiating murderous intent.

Though many witnesses were present, making open retaliation unlikely, leaving someone like him unchecked could be troublesome.

Allowing a grudge to fester risked a sneak attack in the future.

No sane person would let such a threat linger.

‘Huh?’

A sudden thought struck Seo-jun, and he shook his head.

‘No way. Su-a wouldn’t be that kind of lunatic, right?’

…Would she?

It was hard to say.

 

The city of Hanam was abuzz.

“A rising star defeated the Imperial Great General in overwhelming fashion!”

The rumors spread like wildfire.

To ordinary martial artists, it was a tale of a promising newcomer.

But those affiliated with the Sixteen Prestigious Clans knew better.

Seo-jun’s counter-technique against the Celestial Flame Supreme Art was no secret.

Even Ju Cheol-yak couldn’t escape the rumors.

Everywhere he went, he overheard stories of Seo-jun. Back at the palace, he was interrogated about whether his technique had truly been countered.

The humiliation was unbearable.

“Damn it!”

The shattered remains of a liquor bottle littered the floor.

Ju Cheol-yak took deep breaths, trying to quell the anger that threatened to consume him.

“That damned brat…”

He couldn’t let this stand.

If things continued like this, he might die of rage before achieving anything.

“Revenge… I have to get revenge.”

His eyes burned with resolve.

 

The postponed Yongbong Gathering resumed the next day.

By the time the competition reached the top 32, no weak contestants remained.

After watching three decent duels, Seo-jun lounged in his seat, waiting for the fourth and final match of the day.

‘Should I go tonight?’

Lost in thought, he barely noticed when the announcer called the next match.

“The Tiger Gate’s Yang So-hong!”

It was a sect name Seo-jun had never heard before.

However, Yang So-hong’s name was familiar enough for Seo-jun to sit up straight.

With cheers erupting, a tall, well-built man stepped onto the stage, his physique suggesting an advantage in hand-to-hand combat.

Facing him was a pale woman who also entered the arena.

“The Tang Clan’s Tang So-so!”

Seo-jun observed the scene with mild interest, muttering as he caught others staring at him.

“They’re gonna burn holes in me with those eyes…”

Ever since his duel with Ju Cheol-yak, he had been the focus of constant attention wherever he went.

Only now did he understand why so many masters cultivated an aloof image.

An imposing aura could discourage unnecessary attention.

Seo-jun resolved to adopt a more distant demeanor moving forward.

 

That night, Seo-jun quietly left the Namgung Clan’s villa.

Crunch.

The snow underfoot crunched faintly as he arrived at the Imperial Villa.

After a brief check of his appearance in the moonlit reflection of a frozen pond, he smirked.

‘Perfect.’

Baek Seo-jun’s cold gaze softened into a faint smile.