The Dragon-Phoenix Assembly was a grand tournament spanning a full five days.
On the first day, the preliminaries narrowed it down to the top 128.
On the second, the top 64.
On the third, the top 32 and top 16.
On the fourth, the top 8 and semifinals.
And on the fifth, the final day, the championship match would finally take place.
As the first day drew to a close, the names on everyone’s lips had already been decided.
Mukryong, the Black Dragon who had claimed the Dragon title in the previous tournament.
Dang Soran, called the Phoenix, known for overcoming her heart demon.
The quiet monk of Shaolin Temple, Damhye.
Along with other rising stars of the Murim whose names had only just emerged.
Or descendants from lesser families whose reputations had preceded them through rumors alone.
The flower said to bloom once every thousand years from the Emei Sect.
Everyone praised her talent and skill as unmatched, though those who hadn't seen her for themselves refused to believe it.
But the moment she crushed Namgung Yeon in a single exchange right before their eyes—no matter how much they had dismissed her as a dullard—no one could take her lightly anymore.
Her beauty probably played a part too.
A star was truly a star.
Honestly, people could be a bit cruel—they didn't cheer for someone just because they excelled in one area.
Martial artists didn't need beauty or looks, just skill… Even singers who could only sing well didn't become stars; those who sang well and were attractive did.
No woman could hold a candle to her beauty, and her prowess left everyone breathless. She couldn't help but draw all eyes.
Namgung Yeon’s crushing defeat only amplified the shock.
No one had great expectations for the so-called dullard Namgung Yeon, but no one anticipated it ending in the first exchange either.
Word was, Namgung Yeon had made it to around the top 16 in the previous tournament.
The eldest son of the Namgung Family dropping out there was why he was called a dullard, but strictly speaking, he wasn't weak as a martial artist.
And yet, Cheongwol was two years younger than that Namgung Yeon.
This junior, participating in the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly for the first time, had shattered a senior whose cultivation wasn't even that much higher—in just one exchange.
Once the final matches concluded, everyone buzzed excitedly as they left the arena for the village below.
The uncles and aunties who had claimed seats early were already laughing heartily, their conversation blooming with talk of the matches.
In that peaceful scene, it truly sank in: this was why the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly existed.
When reading novels, it seemed odd to hold such an event while the Demonic Cult's forces were rampant, but now it made sense.
There was a huge emotional gap between reading about it and living it.
Fine, who was I to question the Shaolin Abbot’s decision?
"Did you see her? Man, I had no idea she’d be that beautiful. The number one beauty under heaven, right? And not just her face—her figure too—"
"Watch your mouth around a nun! Buddha will punish you!"
"Who's listening? Cheongwol Junior isn't even here."
"The number one beauty is still Lady Dang. No matter what, I prefer her pristine expression. The golden child of the Tang Clan, after all."
"Hey, your eyes must be bad."
"…Ahem. Women shouldn’t have breasts that big, you know? The perfect size is more like Lady Dang Soran than Junior Cheongwol…"
"That young man over there is staring weirdly!"
Two uncles and one auntie met my gaze.
They awkwardly cleared their throats under my fierce glare and returned to their drinks.
My feelings were complicated.
How did I end up so deeply entangled with these people whose names were on everyone’s lips?
"Sigh."
I let out a sigh and turned my thoughts to Namgung Yeon.
As if reading my mind, Gu Yeong Uncle spoke up beside me.
"The Namgung Clan Leader must be alright, huh? That shock must be huge. Well, what can you do about a dullard… Junior Cheongwol went too far."
Machildeok Uncle agreed.
"…Yeah, the Namgung Family will have a hard time recovering. Hey, Seojin. Maybe we should cut off support from now on…"
"No, enough."
I waved them off, dismissing their suggestions.
"Quiet down and let’s grab a drink. I made some money betting on Cheongwol. Namgung Yeon will pick himself up just fine."
"How do you know?"
"…I don't, actually."
****
Cheongwol arrived at the after-party venue with the rest of the Hidden Dragon Society members.
This was a place where those who had just clashed in combat now shared drinks, forging friendships over grudges.
Since it was hosted by Shaolin, alcohol was expected to be forbidden, but surprisingly, the abbot had permitted it.
The first reason was that they couldn't force the precepts of Buddhism on outside guests.
The second was that the bonds formed over drinks would benefit the Murim Alliance even more.
The Buddhists abstained from alcohol, but the non-Buddhists enjoyed moderate intoxication within limits.
Among them, the one drawing the most attention was, of course, Cheongwol.
A displeasing number of men crowded around her, vying to speak first.
"Junior, your performance today was truly awe-inspiring."
"Impressive skill. I'm from the Subordinate Alliance. I'd love to get to know you."
"Thousand-Year Flower…! I’ve wanted to meet you for ages. My name is…"
Each time, Cheongwol had to brush them off with polite responses.
She wanted to ignore them, but with her master Soun watching nearby, she couldn’t afford to be rude.
It was a networking event, after all—she couldn't act freely.
And this trivial lack of freedom gnawed at her from within today as well.
It felt like an endless workout.
Not exhausting enough to collapse, but this slow erosion.
This tightening noose around her throat.
Uncomfortable to the point of death? No. Exhausting to the point of madness? Yes.
Thinking of Han Seojin only doubled the frustration.
What the hell is this? Why am I stuck here like this?
…Han Seojin is probably sharing drinks with Lady Ga Yeong right now.
They’re probably laughing together.
Why do I have to sit here forcing smiles with these nobodies?
What made it worse was sharing the table with her senior brothers from the sect.
The crowding men showed interest only in Cheongwol, so jealousy and envy flickered in her senior brothers’ eyes.
And the funny part? They had all already been eliminated.
Pitiful losers envying her—it was laughable.
"…Ha."
To suppress her frustration, Cheongwol downed her water.
The longer she stayed in the Emei Sect, the more it felt like a prison.
That’s why she had found her own sanctuary.
"…"
…But even that sanctuary had been disturbed lately.
Lady Ga Yeong.
That wench alone…
Upon reflection, maybe losing that sanctuary was the Emei Sect’s fault too.
Nuns weren’t supposed to harbor feelings for men, after all.
Cheongwol found it absurd that this natural emotion was forbidden.
Why could others do as they pleased while she couldn't?
Was struggling just to survive supposed to lead to this painful outcome?
Did her senior brothers feel this way toward her?
Life felt so utterly unfair.
"Cheongwol."
Soun, who had been eating across from her, finally spoke.
"Yes."
"The prowess you showed today was truly dazzling. However, it felt excessive."
"…Pardon?"
Soun's eyes were like calm ripples.
"Namgung Clan Leader is also facing great trials. If you sensed the gap in skill, there was no need to humiliate him further."
"…"
"I'm not scolding you for being wrong. I just want to remind you not to lose compassion for sentient beings. May your blade be sharp, but your heart hold mercy."
She had much to say, but there were many eyes watching.
Cheongwol was about to nod obediently when…
…Was it thoughts of Han Seojin?
A surge of resentment welled up.
"…Why do you always single me out like this?"
In the noisy venue, no one else heard.
But her Emei Sect senior brothers at the table caught her defiance.
"What did you say?"
"Why do you only scold me? I performed the best and single-handedly elevated the Emei Sect’s prestige as you and the Sect Leader desired. Yet you don’t rebuke those who tarnished the sect—instead, you nitpick faults in the one who deserves praise."
"Cheongwol—"
"—If I had fallen like the senior brothers and sisters, would you have scolded me the same? You ignore those who deserve rebuke and force criticism on me who deserves acclaim. I thought you were different from the Sect Leader… but you’re the same."
"…"
Soun listened to Cheongwol’s words in stunned silence.
Shock settled softly on Soun’s face.
Seeing it, Cheongwol felt a twinge of regret—but she didn’t take her words back.
Even the senior brothers who overheard the brief clash were speechless.
Soun set down her utensils and extended a hand.
"That’s not what I meant. As I said, you were truly impressive today—"
"—I don’t want to hear it right now."
-Slap.
Cheongwol rejected Soun’s touch.
Does Master know?
Whose touch she was refusing.
Even as she grew fed up with the Emei Sect, she had clear desires—and though she found a way to fulfill them, she resisted the temptation.
How she overcame it. The grueling battle she was fighting.
How furious she was over Ga Yeong.
How suffocating it all felt right now.
Cheongwol closed her eyes tightly, swallowed her anger, and spoke.
"Understood. Then, I’ll go have a brief talk with Namgung Clan Leader."
"…?"
Cheongwol scanned the surroundings.
Soun was right. Namgung Yeon was nowhere to be seen.
Even Namgung Yeon, whose tenacity many admired, was truly absent.
Just as a faint pity stirred in her, Cheongwol remembered her promise with Han Seojin.
The promise to play if she won it all.
A promise to play with her, even though he had a wife.
Above all, it was trust from Han Seojin.
Not just playing if she won everything, but she could sense he would cherish her greatly… adore her beauty.
Wasn’t she earning him the money he loved so much?
Thinking hopefully, maybe he’d look at her more closely.
See Ga Yeong’s flaws and appreciate her, adored by all.
If she became amazing, wouldn't even the Clan Leader rethink her?
Or maybe it was just to endure, because she couldn't bear it otherwise.
She was truly at her limit now.
The limit was approaching.
This tiresome Emei Sect.
These tiresome rules.
Even Han Seojin’s inscrutable side.
Had she wanted it that much?
Was wanting to be by Han Seojin’s side really too much?
"…"
At the same time, Cheongwol knew this about herself.
She had reached that conclusion long ago.
She could never let go of Han Seojin.
The sanctuary of salvation he had given her—she could never release it.
He was someone she had to be with for life now.
Sometimes, when she walked beside Han Seojin with these unfulfilled desires.
And when she caught her expression in the mirror on his carriage or became aware of it.
She realized she was gazing at Han Seojin with the eyes of a tiger.
Beneath that gaze probably lurked her dangerous desires.
Emotions a Buddhist shouldn't have—but the more fed up she grew with the Emei Sect, the less she wanted to be one.
So.
…So, Clan Leader.
I’m at my limit too now…
.
.
.
Cheongwol’s anguish was being watched by Senior Disciple Hye-yul nearby.
Cheongwol didn't notice.
****
Namgung Yeon sat alone in her room.
Seething self-loathing.
Crushed hopes.
The gulf between this pathetic self and the reality she had to face.
Again.
Once more, nothing but disappointment in herself.
Normally, this would be training time.
No matter the matches, it didn't matter.
Namgung Yeon never skipped daily training, no matter what happened.
But today, truly, she couldn't.
It felt like the despair when the Namgung Family was under attack.
Why bother?
That time yielded no reward.
She’d just get trampled and ignored by juniors like Cheongwol anyway.
Resentment surged.
The humiliation from today felt vivid.
The arena gone deathly silent, not even pitying her.
Everyone knowing her tragic defeat only made her seem more pathetic.
Tears threatened to spill.
'Don’t cry. A man doesn’t cry!'
"…A man… doesn’t cry."
Namgung Yeon repeated her father’s words.
'Harden your heart. This heartless jianghu won’t spare you.'
"…This heartless jianghu… won’t spare me."
Her voice trembled less and less, but not a single tear welled in her eyes.
Forcing it down, enduring through gritted teeth.
A man doesn’t cry.
Namgung Yeon’s mutterings echoed in the room.
No one was by Namgung Yeon’s side to comfort her.
She hadn't wanted that anyway.
A man—especially the Namgung Clan Leader—couldn’t show such vulnerability to others.
So she had to rise again.
Go back to training.
For the sake of that benefactor who believed in her, at least.
"…Ugh… hng."
But her body refused.
She didn’t want to push herself further for meaningless acts.
Yet the obsession to push her body tormented her still.
Strength entered Namgung Yeon’s grip.
She was unwrapping the bandages around her arm.
Revealing the numerous scars beneath.
She knew she shouldn’t, couldn't understand why she did it—but she repeated the act once more.
"Ugh…!"
Namgung Yeon raked her nails across her arm.
Sometimes it drew blood, but afterward came a strange sense of release.
Feeling this pain made it seem like she was moving forward.
Like she was accomplishing something—an illusion.
This man’s body.
This tough body mustn’t break from mere pain like this.
Like a blacksmith tempering iron, it felt like she was forging her body.
"A man… doesn’t cry…"
As her father had said, she told herself.
Today, the binding bandage across her chest felt tighter than ever.
"A man doesn’t cry…"
Namgung Yeon muttered through sobs as she tormented her body.
No tears flowed from her eyes…
-Drip… drip…
But soon, blood began trickling from her arm, staining the floor.