CHAPTER 140: HEAVENLY SEOJUN (1)

0% The principle behind the Face-Changing Art wasn’t particularly complicated.

Simply put, it was like performing cosmetic surgery with inner power.

One could use solidified inner power to add to the bone structure, pull and push skin to fix it in place, and so on.

More advanced techniques would be different, but that level wasn’t necessary for now.

All that mattered was that the face appeared different at a glance.

And Seojun had been playing with his inner power to create thread patterns since the Peak Realm.

“Like this?”

STRRRETCH-! Facial muscles and skin moved this way and that.

The Red Face Beggar, witnessing this up close, dropped his jaw.

“You madman... Get that face away from me, it’s disgusting!”

Though the Red Face Beggar had seen all sorts of things, watching a face being grotesquely kneaded in real-time was a bit sickening.

Grinning as he got the hang of it, Seojun quickly completed a face.

“How is it?”

The Red Face Beggar, who had been squinting with his eyes half-closed, burst into laughter upon seeing Seojun’s face.

“Whoever’s face that is, they’re quite ugly.”

“This is your face.”

“...Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“...I can’t believe it.”

The Red Face Beggar fell silent, looking dejected.

Of course, neither was being entirely serious.

Regardless of Seojun’s skill in handling inner power, his artistic sense wasn’t particularly outstanding, so he couldn’t perfectly reproduce the Red Face Beggar’s face.

The Red Face Beggar grumbled.

“Why did you ask about the Face-Changing Art when you’re already learning it?”

Seojun brazenly lied.

“I was just asking if you knew how to do it.”

“Well, I never.”

Burp! After a shameless belch, the Red Face Beggar took a swig from his gourd.

“Want a sip?”

He offered it to Seojun, who immediately declined after seeing the greasy residue on the rim.

“No thanks.”

“Heheh, fine by me.”

Shortly thereafter, the referee’s loud voice rang out.

“Samgu of the Beggar’s Union!”

Seojun showed interest at the mention of the Beggar’s Union.

“Is that your kid?”

“That’s right. Samgu. He’ll be thirty soon, perfectly timed.”

Twenty-nine years old? He was older than Seojun.

Of course, Seojun had no intention of calling him “big brother.” Even if he looked about 40 due to his prematurely aged appearance...

If it bothered him, he could just reach the Transcendent Realm.

“Woonbaek of Mount Hua Sect!”

This time, the name was familiar to Seojun.

Woonbaek? That Woonbaek?

Focusing his discerning eye, he confirmed it was indeed that Woonbaek.

Big Brother Baek, with whom he’d drunk before leaving Shaanxi.

Who could have imagined their connection from the Mount Hua martial arts tournament preliminaries would extend this far?

I wonder if Woonjak is here too?

The memory of drinking with Woonbaek, Woonjak, Chunbong, and himself remained quite pleasant.

“Do you know him?”

At the Red Face Beggar’s question, Seojun nodded.

“We should be pretty close.”

“What do you mean, ‘should be’?”

“Well, whether Big Brother Baek considers us close...”

“Tsk, how can a young man like you have such poor social skills?”

The Red Face Beggar chuckled, then sighed deeply as he looked at Samgu.

“I wish he’d get a good thrashing just once.”

“What? Me?”

“No, not you. That Samgu. He grew up pampered in the Beggar’s Union and his arrogance reaches the heavens. In the martial world, not knowing your place means an early death.”

Pampered? In the Beggar’s Union? Is that even possible?

Pondering this fundamental question, Seojun grinned and gestured toward the arena.

“Then cheer for Big Brother Baek.”

“That’s a bit...”

“Oh come on! Just do whatever you want.”

The duel began.

Samgu of the Beggar’s Union versus Woonbaek of Mount Hua.

Samgu initiated with the first attack.

Approaching with a loose gait, he suddenly twisted his waist and launched his club.

Woonbaek calmly deployed the 24-Form Plum Blossom Sword Technique, simultaneously defending and counterattacking.

“Oh.”

Without taking his eyes off the duel, Seojun asked.

“Want to make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?”

“On who’ll win.”

“I’m betting on Mount Hua.”

“No, I want to bet on Mount Hua.”

“Heheh, too late.”

At first glance, the duel seemed to favor Samgu.

His club swung rapidly, occupying space, and due to the Beggar’s Union’s characteristically free-spirited fighting style, Woonbaek lost the flow several times.

“Damn it...!”

But Samgu knew too.

None of his strikes were landing effectively.

Those annoying plum blossoms spread out, restricting Samgu’s range of movement, while Woonbaek’s sword calmly tightened around Samgu’s neck.

It was a sword style atypical of Mount Hua.

Usually, Mount Hua’s swordsmanship brought to mind a flashy and aggressive posture, but Woonbaek was different.

He focused on defense, gradually securing victory by using the plum blossoms.

“What kind of womanly fighting is this!”

Samgu gritted his teeth and deployed the Dog-Beating Club Technique.

Despite its name suggesting beating dogs with a club, Samgu’s technique resembled a fierce hound.

“Charging mindlessly isn’t manly—it’s ignorant.”

Woonbaek smiled slightly and flicked his sword tip.

As the club rapidly descended toward his shoulder, Woonbaek’s sword touched its side and vibrated subtly. Plum blossoms bloomed, pushing back the club.

SWOOSH-!

Samgu’s posture faltered from the forceful downward strike, and his eyes widened.

“Eek...!”

Using the downward momentum to lift his body into the air, he twisted and delivered several rapid kicks.

BABABABAK-!

His feet left pale afterimages as they pounded the air.

Woonbaek smiled coolly.

“Nice try.”

He had already stepped back half a pace, beyond the reach of Samgu’s feet. Then he immediately deployed his technique.

Scattered Plum Blossoms.

The countless red plum blossoms already spread throughout the arena rippled. The gradually fading petals were drawn by the wind from the sword tip, swirling chaotically to surround Samgu.

“AAAAGH...!”

Though the plum blossoms appeared beautiful, their essence was fragments of sword energy.

The duel ended with Samgu’s scream as he was enveloped by the petals.

“The winner, Woonbaek of Mount Hua!”

On the dueling platform stood a Shaolin elder who had jumped in to disperse the plum blossoms, and Samgu, who had collapsed while bleeding all over.

Woonbaek made a formal bow.

“It was a good duel.”

“Kugh...! Damn it!”

Samgu reluctantly returned the bow and left the platform with rough steps.

What a temperament.

Clicking his tongue at this, Seojun suddenly recalled his own behavior and straightened his posture.

He wasn’t in a position to criticize others’ temperaments.

“This generation seems particularly rich in talent.”

At the Red Face Beggar’s words, Seojun turned his head.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. That Samgu may have a terrible personality, but he does have skill.”

Seojun recalled how Samgu had fought.

A fighting style that evoked wildness and instinct.

In contrast, Woonbaek’s sword felt calm and restrained.

Rather than flashes of genius, it revealed traces of relentless training and effort.

Of course, without talent, reaching that level at his age would be difficult, but it was clearly not a realm achieved by talent alone.

That’s impressive.

While Seojun occasionally teased others about talent, he couldn’t help but admire such products of hard work.

From the beginning, he never mocked effort—only people.

When mocking people he disliked, he merely threw in comments about talent if there was an opportunity.

Saying “Why can’t you do this? Maybe you should quit martial arts?” simply meant “I really don’t like you.”

As for teasing for fun... well, that was just joking around.

Seojun, the perpetrator who easily forgot, silently watched the Dragon Phoenix Tournament.

No familiar faces appeared in the second and third duels.

If pressed, perhaps Hwangbo Hyeji.

Though it was their first meeting, with the Hwangbo Clan’s status, they could be considered half-acquainted.

Hwangbo Hyeji’s opponent was from an unfamiliar sect, and the match ended predictably with her victory.

Then came the day’s final duel.

“Namgung Myeong of the Namgung Clan!”

Our little brother and...

“Yeongyeong of Emei Sect!”

A female disciple of Shaolin’s sister sect.

Her head wasn’t shaved, and her tightly bound hair hung down to her waist.

Seojun, who had been practicing creating faces with the Face-Changing Art, asked once more.

“How about a real bet this time?”

“I’m telling you in advance, I’m betting on the Namgung Clan.”

“No, I’m also betting on the Namgung Clan.”

“Well, it makes sense for a Namgung person to bet on Namgung.”

The Red Face Beggar scratched his head, then nodded as if being generous.

“Heheh, alright. Emei won’t go down easily.”

Soon after, the referee declared the start of the duel.

It began quite statically.

Both sides drew their swords and kept each other in check.

Without approaching, they read each other’s swaying sword tips and nullified each other’s techniques with small footwork.

Then suddenly, Namgung Myeong took a large step forward.

Seojun’s eyebrow twitched at the sword path he traced.

Is that immediately the Emperor Sword Form?

KUUUUUNG────────!!!

A heavy sound was followed by a moment of silence in the arena.

CLANG-!

A sword blade, cut in half, rolled on the ground.

Emei’s Yeongyeong swallowed hard. Namgung Myeong’s sword had cut through her blade and now rested at her neck.

“I-I yield...”

“Thank you for the match.”

As Yeongyeong made a formal bow with a dazed expression, and Namgung Myeong returned it, the referee shouted loudly.

“The winner! Namgung Myeong of the Namgung Clan!”

WOAAAAAAAH────────!!

The crowd roared louder than before at this spectacular victory.

Seojun, watching blankly, merely blinked.

“...Wow. Our little brother is incredibly strong.”

It wasn’t just the Emperor Sword Form—there was simply too great a gap in swordsmanship.

Yeongyeong couldn’t read Namgung Myeong’s sword at all, while he completely understood and cut through her movements.

As Seojun belatedly applauded, the Red Face Beggar beside him let out a hollow laugh.

“Haha... Unbelievable. What a sneaky bastard. You suggest a bet like this?”

“I really didn’t know!”

“Shut up! Ugh...”

The Red Face Beggar grumbled.

Seojun giggled and leaned back in his chair.

“I’ll treat you to a meal next time.”

“Is it nice getting free meals from a beggar?”

“It’s very nice!”

“What a terrible person.”

*Neatly ignoring the Great General’s blatant stares during the Dragon Phoenix Tournament, Seojun left as soon as the duels ended.

He had already informed his group. That he had something to do and would return later.

What was that something?

“Kuk kuk, you worms. Ah, ah. Mic test. Mic test. One, two. Hmm... No. Should I make it deeper?”

In a secluded spot, Seojun changed his appearance with the Face-Changing Art and even modified his voice.

Though there was no mirror, at the Transcendent Realm, visualizing one’s own appearance was easy.

The self-image he created was quite satisfactory.

In short: middle-aged charisma.

Lacking artistic sense, he referenced an actual person with some modifications, resulting in a rather good appearance.

The referenced individual was the Soul-Stealing Demon, who had generously donated his Soul Absorption Art.

It was what the Soul-Stealing Demon might look like in his 40s, with some creative additions.

“It’s quite enjoyable watching these worms squirm.”

The concept: an arrogant, disagreeable martial arts geezer who was a great demonic adept.

Not bad at all. Being somewhat older would also reduce suspicious misunderstandings.

His name... Heavenly Seojun.

A setting for a legendary figure who would eventually evolve into the Heavenly Demon Seojun. For now, at least.

“Well then, time to make some trouble.”

Operation Martial World Chaos was underway.

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