MDR 13

Chapter – 13

After Paeng Yijong and Paeng Noil stepped down from the training ground,

only Jeon Ak and I remained.

The duel had begun, but Jeon Ak did not move.

Even though I was five years younger than him, his eyes carefully observed me.

He instinctively knew what mattered most in a one-on-one fight.

Wow…

The more I look at this guy, the more I like him.

“Hey. Your name is Jeon Ak, right? From today on, you belong to me.”

Jeon Ak only frowned slightly at my words. He didn’t react much.

Instead, as if he had found an opening, he quickly closed the distance and swung his blade.

The Paeng family’s basic blade technique:
Overlord Lightning Blade (覇電刀).

Though considered a basic technique, it was very fast and aggressive. It emphasized speed rather than power.

Because of that, it was good for young children with light bodies and didn’t require much strength—a fast blade technique.

It was such a simple trajectory that I could have avoided it just by twisting my body.

But I deliberately blocked it head-on.

With one hand.

Clack!

The sound of wood colliding echoed.

Jeon Ak gritted his teeth.

His eyes filled with shock.

That made sense. He had just had his strike blocked by someone much younger, and his wrist must have gone numb from the impact.

I was still someone suffering from the Nine Yang Severed Meridians, unable to accumulate internal energy.

But that didn’t mean my body itself was weak.

Climbing cliffs with bare hands sounds easy when said aloud.

But in reality, it isn’t.

An eleven-year-old climbing a cliff barehanded without internal energy?

Normally impossible.

But I could do it.

A child that young wouldn’t normally climb cliffs.

And especially not someone on the verge of death from the Nine Yang Severed Meridians.

It had been grueling and painful.

But I enjoyed training because I knew moments like this would be my reward.

If someone else had a better training method,

I would steal it if I had to.

Realizing he couldn’t win in a contest of strength, Jeon Ak tried to pull his blade away.

I matched his movement and continued forcing a power struggle.

“You heard me earlier, right? I said you should become mine. Come to the Moyong Academy tomorrow. From this moment on, you’re my disciple. No refusal allowed.”

“Urgh… What nonsense are you talking about!”

Jeon Ak shouted and tried to knock my sword away.

But Moyong Jin’s blade did not move at all.

Like a solid rock.

An overwhelming difference in strength.

Jeon Ak’s face reddened slightly at the fact he was losing in strength to an eleven-year-old.

“Then let’s do this. Whoever loses this duel becomes the other’s disciple. How about it? Sounds fair, right?”

“AAAAH!”

Jeon Ak shouted and poured strength into his blade again.

He even twisted his blade direction to escape.

But Moyong Jin’s sword clung like glue.

Jeon Ak even pulled back deliberately.

Still, the sword followed him.

And then suddenly—

Jeon Ak realized something.

He had been pushed all the way to the edge of the training arena.

Feeling humiliated as if he had been toyed with, he gathered all his strength again.

But at that moment, Moyong Jin’s sword flow softened.

Jeon Ak lost his balance as his weight shifted.

“I can’t let my first disciple get hurt. Be at Moyong Academy by Chen hour tomorrow.”

Jeon Ak fell out of bounds with shocking ease.

The arena fell silent.

Paeng Noil was stunned.

Paeng Yijong simply nodded as if it was expected.

Originally, the duel was decided by who scored the first point.

But despite Paeng Noil urging him,

Jeon Ak did not return to the arena.

No—

he couldn’t.

He had completely lost the will to fight after realizing the obvious result.

“Ah, boring. So boring. They call this the strongest junior academy in Hebei? Seems it’s just a fancy name. The academy is pretty disappointing.”

Moyong Jin loudly mocked the Hebei Junior Academy so everyone could hear.

None of the children could refute him.

Because Jeon Ak had been one of their strongest.

“Grr… This is invalid! Isn’t this too underhanded? Teaching such evil tricks to a child! Is Moyong Academy teaching demonic arts?!”

Paeng Noil fumed, bringing up demonic sects.

All the children’s gazes turned toward Moyong Jin.

“Demonic arts? Me?”

“Yes! That martial art you used! Wasn’t it the Demonic Sword Adhesion Technique (着劍魔功)?”

Moyong Jin was genuinely surprised.

He had merely kept his sword attached.

And now it was being called a demonic technique.

I think I’ve heard of that technique before…

But I’m eleven years old.

“Master Paeng Noil. That statement cannot be ignored. Can you take responsibility for what you just said?”

Paeng Yijong naturally stepped in.

He was the third son of a prestigious orthodox family.

And since I was essentially Paeng Muak to him,

calling me demonic was more than just an insult—it was insulting his ancestors.

Killing intent appeared in his eyes as he stepped onto the arena.

Paeng Noil flinched slightly but gathered courage and stepped forward too.

“Yes! I am Paeng Noil of the Paeng family! I stake my family name on it! That child used the Demonic Sword Adhesion Technique! I met someone using it while training in Shanxi!”

He had crossed the line completely.

Furious at such baseless claims made in the Paeng family’s name, Paeng Yijong drew his sword.

[Stop.]

A faint voice transmission reached his ear.

He turned and saw Moyong Jin holding his sleeve.

[He dared invoke a demonic sect using our family name! This cannot be tolerated!]

[That’s exactly why you must stop. Otherwise you’ll end up using my name too.]

Paeng Yijong froze.

[Don’t worry. I have a plan. Just watch.]

Reluctantly, Paeng Yijong sheathed his sword.

“Heh heh. So it was demonic! No wonder our Jeon Ak lost! Moyong Academy taught demonic arts, so the Paeng family will soon—”

Sigh.

“Seriously. Why do you keep saying Paeng family like you’re calling for your mom?”

Paeng Noil’s beard trembled.

Because the one speaking rudely wasn’t Moyong Jong.

It was Moyong Jin.

“You brat! Speaking casually to an adult again—!”

“When did I ever use honorifics with you? And adult? You? Calling demonic arts on an eleven-year-old? You damn thief.”

“You little—! Want to be taught a lesson?!”

Paeng Noil released killing intent.

Moyong Jin didn’t even blink.

Instead—

He pointed his wooden sword and flicked Paeng Noil’s forehead.

Smack!

A loud flicking sound echoed.

Even louder because it was done with a wooden sword.

“Go ahead. Teach me. Let’s fight. I’ll show you whether it’s demonic or not.”

Paeng Noil was thirty-two.

Nearly three times Moyong Jin’s age.

Yet here was a child challenging him to a duel after flicking his forehead.

Even the Taoist Immortal Taehuh of Wudang might not laugh that off.

Accepting could make him a laughingstock.

But Paeng Noil just wanted to beat this brat.

“Fine. If the little Daoist insists, I will teach you respect!”

Moyong Jin smiled.

Paeng Yijong shook his head.

Originally Moyong Jin hadn’t planned this.

He just wanted to duel children and prove Moyong Academy was superior.

Then recruit students one by one.

But Paeng Noil’s pathetic accusations opened a new path.

Living in this child’s body has made me too soft.

Trying to recruit them one by one doesn’t suit me.

I am Cheon Girin.

Watching Paeng Noil gripping his wooden blade angrily,

Moyong Jin smiled brightly.

Hebei Junior Academy is mine now.

Later

A tense atmosphere filled the arena.

But the children watching were just excited.

Watching fights is fun.

Watching an adult fight a kid?

Even better.

Paeng Noil wasn’t even first-rate.

At best second-rate.

Second-rate fighters were easy to identify.

Third-rate and first-rate were obvious.

Second-rate were the awkward middle.

Paeng Noil fit that perfectly.

That’s why Moyong Jin challenged him.

He was confident he could defeat someone of that level using only external techniques.

And as expected—

Paeng Noil’s blade movements were obvious.

“Haap!”

Paeng Noil kept striking.

Moyong Jin avoided everything with simple steps.

Same Mixed Origin Thunder Blade as Paeng Yijong. Such a high-level art wasted on trash.

The technique required strength, speed, and control.

But Paeng Noil just used brute force.

Barely even understanding it.

Moyong Jin looked disappointed.

Paeng Yijong covered his face in embarrassment.

“Sigh… Hard to even call this second-rate. Were you really teaching children at this level?”

Paeng Noil grew angrier.

“You talk a lot for someone who only dodges!”

His blade scattered dust.

Yes, he was strong.

But that was all.

“Boring.”

Suddenly—

Moyong Jin disappeared.

Paeng Noil turned.

“Up here, idiot.”

By the time he looked up—

Moyong Jin’s foot was already in front of his face.

CRACK!

His nose broke.

He lost balance.

Moyong Jin didn’t miss the chance.

Maybe showing a little isn’t bad.

He stepped on Paeng Noil’s face and jumped.

Changed his grip.

“Fifth Form — Heaven and Earth Sun Blade (天地日刀).”

He twisted his waist and delivered a massive diagonal strike.

This was why Paeng Muak was called Heaven and Earth Sun Blade.

His signature technique.

It looked simple.

But required full body coordination.

Even without internal energy—

His perfect strike seemed almost divine.

CRACK!

His wooden sword struck the ground beside Paeng Noil’s head.

The arena floor split.

The wooden blade had pierced deeply into solid ground.

“Now then. Is my swordsmanship still a demonic art?”