Mu-jin shaped his hand into a blade and brought it down on Ma Du-gwang's head.
Pak-!
"Kuek!"
A thin line of blood trickled from Ma Du-gwang's mouth. He'd bitten his tongue after taking a solid hit mid-sentence, his serious expression shattered.
"Wh-what's this?!"
"Do I look like some evil sect thug to you? Our escort agency walks the righteous path. We don't stoop to sleazy tricks like that."
"...."
Ma Du-gwang stared at Mu-jin, wide-eyed.
...But sparring bets are fine?
Bbak-!
Mu-jin chopped the top of Ma Du-gwang's head again with his hand blade.
He hadn't said a word, but the irreverent thought was plain on his face.
"No, why..."
"Quiet. Just sit tight and wait. I'll be right back."
"...Got it."
"'Got it'?"
"...Yes, sir!"
After wrapping up Ma Du-gwang's occasional "education," Kang Mu-jin ascended the makeshift sparring platform, step by deliberate step.
"Mu-jin, give it your all!"
"It's okay if you lose!"
"Just doing your best is what matters!"
A handful of spectators—less than a tenth of the crowd—cheered him on from ringside. These were folks who'd once shared good ties with the Diamond Escort Agency or nursed grudges against the ones Mu-jin had thrashed.
Mu-jin nodded to them in acknowledgment, then turned his gaze to Cheong-sang of the Mount Hua Sect's New Swords, climbing up from the opposite side.
Cheong-sang wore his crimson robes fluttering dramatically, unsuited to actual combat. He waved to his supporters with a broad smile.
"Good to see you, Young Master Kang. It's been a while."
"Yeah."
"...Ahem."
Cheong-sang gripped his sword tighter at Mu-jin's curt dismissal—no pleasantries about how he'd been.
But he let it slide without comment.
Unlike Shaanxi, home to the conversation-loving Mount Hua Sect that prized etiquette and propriety, Taiyuan was a rougher place all around.
"Both contenders are in position. No hidden weapons, poisons, or sorcery allowed. You both know the rules?"
Jin-sang of Mount Zhongnan eyed Mu-jin and Cheong-sang with a bored look before hopping back and calling out.
"Get on with it, then. The quicker it ends, the better."
Sring-
Cheong-sang drew his sword from its sheath and turned to the crowd.
Far more spectators than he'd expected had gathered. His shoulders squared with pride already.
'Taiyuan must be crawling with idle layabouts. More people than I thought.'
He felt a twinge of curiosity but brushed it off.
The more the merrier for an up-and-comer like Cheong-sang looking to make a name.
'The match'll be over quick, so to leave an impression, I should show some mercy.'
Wanting to spice up what might be a dull win, Cheong-sang gave Mu-jin a relaxed smile.
"Come now, Young Master Kang. I'll yield the first move. Advance."
"Won't say no."
Mu-jin kicked off the ground and charged straight at Cheong-sang in a blink.
'I'll end this in one go.'
He closed the distance too fast for Cheong-sang's eyes to track, cocking back a clenched fist—then froze.
'Hold on. Is winning like this okay?'
Thinking it over, an overwhelming victory wasn't the play here.
Show too much strength, and there'd be no suckers... er, challengers lining up to hand over gold later.
Kiiik-
Mu-jin slammed to a halt, skidding to a stop right in front of Cheong-sang.
But his momentum was too much; his body pitched forward from the rebound, forehead smacking Cheong-sang's.
Thud-
A red welt bloomed on Cheong-sang's forehead. His stance wobbled for a moment. Mu-jin, unscathed, stood steady.
'Hmm. How should I win to make this look good?'
As Mu-jin pondered the best way to clinch it without scaring off future marks—er, supporters—Cheong-sang whipped out his sword.
"You call that your first move? Insulting me?!"
Mistaking Mu-jin's blunder for provocation, Cheong-sang glared, face flushed with rage.
"You'll regret that arrogance!"
He slashed diagonally in fury.
'How do I win to lure the next mark...!'
Distracted, Mu-jin spotted the incoming blade and swung on instinct.
Pwaaak-!
The punch nailed Cheong-sang's exposed jaw perfectly as he overcommitted to the swing. His head snapped back.
His body twisted after it, spinning him full circle.
Boom-!
Cheong-sang crumpled spread-eagled on the training ground, foam bubbling from his mouth, out cold.
"Ah, damn."
Mu-jin grimaced. He'd unintentionally one-shotted the guy.
Winning like this would kill any betting interest.
He scanned the crowd anxiously for reactions.
"...."
"...."
The horde that had cheered for Cheong-sang behind him gaped in stunned silence, jaws unhinged.
Their brains short-circuited, rebooting like broken puppets from the sheer shock.
"N-no way!"
"This can't be... One of the New Swords lost?!"
"What the hell... How does this even happen?!"
Words failed them in the face of the impossible.
A direct disciple of Mount Hua—one of the Nine Great Sects dominating the central plains—beaten? Sure, maybe one of the lay Plum Blossom Six Swords, but a New Sword like Cheong-sang?
With a single technique. No—a single punch!
This defied logic.
Taiyuan, in Shanxi with no Nine Great Sects or Eight Great Families, producing a master like that? Absurd. And that master dropping a Mount Hua elite? Equally insane.
You had to see it to believe it—and even then, you'd doubt the teller.
"N-no, isn't this cheating?!"
"He was still talking! Hitting him then is low..."
A few who'd bet on Cheong-sang grumbled. Ma Du-gwang jumped in quick.
"What nonsense! No fouls in a spar. Ref said go, you strike immediately!"
"Right. Should've focused if you're in."
"Sore loser much?"
The crowd nodded along with Ma Du-gwang. The losers scowled like they'd bitten a bug and shut up.
"...Young Master Kang Mu-jin of the Diamond Escort Agency wins."
Jin-sang of Mount Zhongnan declared it, backing the consensus.
'How in the world...?'
He looked uneasy too, but with all eyes on him, he couldn't let bias taint the call.
"Ooooh! Amazing, Young Master Kang!"
"Hahaha! Stuff it, Nine Great Sects!"
"So cool, Great Hero Kang!"
Cheers and praise erupted with the verdict.
Mu-jin exhaled in relief, smirking as victory came easier than cold porridge.
He'd braced for cries of "fraud" or "too strong," but the crowd loved it.
'Now's the moment.'
With the mood perfect for reeling in challengers, Mu-jin bellowed.
"All warriors of Taiyuan, hear me!"
He infused his voice with inner power, letting it boom.
"I am Kang Mu-jin, master forged by Shaolin's Diamond Art. Any man who wants a piece, step up and challenge me!"
He turned to Jin-sang of Mount Zhongnan and the groggy Cheong-sang.
"No matter who... I'll take you on! Challenge me. If you're so confident, come at me all together!"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd at his bombshell.
"...All of us? He said all?"
"Public challenge? Bold as a mountain lord!"
"Way better than those posers who nitpick before fighting. Ha! What a guy!"
Some applauded his swagger.
"Isn't the confidence a bit much?"
"He beat a Mount Hua senior disciple, sure... but a true master?"
Others raised doubts.
Most, though, warmed to his spirit.
Mu-jin had shown force to move mountains and aura to blanket the world.
"Oh, almost forgot. Challengers must pay up front."
"Pay what?"
Mu-jin held up two fingers in a circle at the question.
"One liang of gold."
"...."
"Cheap! A once-in-a-lifetime chance against an absolute master! Plus pointers as a bonus! Spar plus lesson—all for one liang!"
"...."
Suddenly hawking like a possessed merchant, Mu-jin left everyone dumbfounded.
Cheong-sang, Jin-sang, Ma Du-gwang, the whole crowd—jaws dropped, same thought:
Is that guy nuts?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Informant Gu Family Head dropped by Ma's Inn for the first time in ages.
Famed for generous portions at low prices and the owner's goodwill, it was prime for eavesdropping intel.
'Crowded today.'
Gu grinned at the packed house, barely room to step.
'Crowds mean intel.'
He resolved to spend the night ears wide open and snagged the central table the second it freed up.
Third-rate informants lurk in corners; first-rate claim the heart, sifting every whisper.
That's what made you elite.
"One white liquor."
"...Coming up."
The waiter eyed him sourly—no snacks, cheapest booze—but Gu ignored it.
Weathering glares was first-rate informant stuff.
"Heard the buzz? One of Mount Hua's senior disciples hit Taiyuan."
"You mean one of the New Swords?"
"Taiyuan's New Sword... Cheong-sang the disciple, right?!"
Gu pivoted subtly toward the voices, shaking his head.
'Not Cheong-sang, Cheong-sang. Idiots.'
"Yeah, and that Cheong-sang got smashed flat."
"Smashed?!"
"Whaaat?!"
Gu shot to his feet in shock.
All eyes in the inn snapped to him.
"S-sorry."
Flushing, he sat—a fatal flub for a first-rate man.
He'd broken rule one of eavesdropping: act like you aren't.
'Overreacted to the bombshell.'
He calmed his pounding heart at news of Cheong-sang—a noted Mount Hua junior—going down.
'Nothing'll top this shock tonight.'
Pouring white liquor, he resumed listening.
"Know who did it? None other than Kang Mu-jin, third young master of Diamond Escort."
"True. I saw it. One kick, and Cheong-sang was wrecked."
"No way!"
"Insane. An escort agency kid beats a Mount Hua master?!"
Gu choked down his liquor—and spat it straight out.
"Kugh! Pfft! Cough! Cough!"
Kang Mu-jin smashed Cheong-sang?
In one move?!
The barrage of unbelievable info left him reeling.
The waiter gawked like he was mad, but Gu was too busy processing to care.
"That's not all. After winning, Young Master Kang declared he'd spar anyone publicly."
"Anyone?"
"Yup. Pay up, and he'll fight comers. Bold guarantee."
"That's why everyone's chanting 'Golden Ghost Indestructible'! Makes sense now."
"Yeah, I get it. That young master's something else!"
Gu swigged again to wet his throat—and sprayed it everywhere.
"Gah! Wh-what?!"
"...."
Bad aim this time.
His spray drenched the gossipers' faces.
"Hey, old man!"
The waiter glared daggers.
"Get out! Now!"