I stared at the main gate through which the Alliance Leader had vanished.

“Son of a bitch… he’s strong.”

It wasn’t strange, really. It’s not that he was strong because he was the Alliance Leader—he was the Alliance Leader because he was strong.

Or… is that the same thing?

Either way, whatever it was, I found myself in a foul mood.

It wasn’t just the Sword Demon who had lost—I’d lost, too. And judging by the Left Guardian’s expression, he’d suffered a loss of his own.

“Goddammit…”

And yet, the Sword Demon glanced at his disciple and me, noted our reactions, and gave a faint, inscrutable smile—then calmly sat down cross-legged and began circulating his energy.

I locked eyes with the Left Guardian, then settled beside him in a protective semicircle around the Sword Demon, keeping silent.

My insides were boiling, but I wasn’t the one who’d lost, so I couldn’t just go off. That would be absurd.

I watched the Sword Demon and swallowed down the sigh that nearly escaped me.

“I’ll ask him why he accepted this match after he’s done.”

Most likely, this duel had been staged for our sake—for his disciple and for me.

And judging from how irritated I felt right now, it had worked.

The Left Guardian looked just as frustrated—his face had turned bright red. An endless chain of thoughts tangled through my head as the silence stretched on.

“…….”

Then the Alliance Leader’s words echoed in my ears.

‘Since it’s a wooden sword duel, there’s no need to assign deep meaning to victory or defeat.’

Would it have meant more if they’d used real ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) swords?

Of course it would.

The fight would’ve been longer, more intense—and between those two, the entire mountain villa might’ve been leveled. That’s how fierce it could have been.

Which made it all the more baffling.

“Why did the Sword Demon fight so gently?”

The Alliance Leader hadn’t even shown his sword intent.

And the Sword Demon, who definitely knew dark arts, hadn’t used a single technique either.

They had finished the duel with the simplest possible exchange of blows and then parted cleanly, like they’d agreed ahead of time.

The Alliance Leader must’ve known the purpose behind the duel as well.

‘The palm clash wasn’t necessary, yet you showed it anyway.’

That was probably his way of acknowledging that the duel had been for our benefit—for the Left Guardian and me.

When the Sword Demon finally opened his eyes after completing his circulation, the Left Guardian spoke cautiously.

“Master… I’m sorry.”

Suppressing my own temper, I let the master and disciple talk without interruption.

The Sword Demon answered.

“Mongrang, did you watch closely? Your master lost like this.”

“Yes.”

“How did it feel?”

The Left Guardian replied with an odd question.

“Did you duel because you were angry on my behalf?”

The Sword Demon shook his head.

“Not exactly.”

“The Alliance Leader’s wooden sword was impressive. But I still don’t understand why Master chose to lose in such a short, simple exchange—even if the opponent was the Alliance Leader.”

Instead of replying to his disciple, the Sword Demon turned to me.

“Did it help you, Pavilion Lord?”

I answered honestly, in my own way.

“Senior, I’ve got a question.”

“Ask.”

“When the Alliance Leader swung his sword, the motion was simple—but it felt like multiple swords followed the same trajectory, stacking one after another. I saw him swing once, but at the point of impact, it felt like one, two, three, four, five blades layered together. What is that sword art, and how does one counter—”

The Sword Demon chuckled.

“How many afterimages did you see?”

“I saw six.”

The Sword Demon turned to his disciple.

“And you?”

“I saw four or five. Hard to say clearly—it looked like afterimages.”

The Sword Demon explained the Alliance Leader’s technique.

“You both saw it well. That technique is called the Six Combat Blade.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s the Alliance Leader’s personal art. Only the name is widely known—no one understands how it works. Even his disciples probably don’t know. They aren’t skilled enough yet.”

The Left Guardian asked,

“Master, I don’t even know what ‘Six Combat’ refers to.”

“You’re with the righteous sects and don’t know?”

“Yes. I never cared about the Alliance Leader’s martial arts.”

“Im Sobaek once led the Martial Alliance’s Sixth Combat Division. That sword art he created during those days, and he’s still using it now. That’s all there is to the name—it just means the blade of the Sixth Division.”

The Left Guardian tilted his head.

“I thought he was a high-ranking master from a big family or sect.”

The Sword Demon replied in a calm tone.

“Im Sobaek started as a common Alliance member. He climbed the ranks from courier, sub-unit commander, squad leader, unit leader, to division leader, then chief commander, then guardian captain—finally becoming the Alliance Leader. From the beginning, he frequently sparred with fellow members, won and lost, then from the rank of division leader onward, he never lost again. As Guardian Captain, he frequently dueled with masters from the righteous path and never lost. He rose to leadership purely on skill—without scandal. He’s eccentric—he once revisited everyone who had defeated him in the past and challenged them again. All of them lost to him.”

“Hmm.”

“There aren’t many in Jianghu who can stand against the Alliance Leader. The best one can do is acknowledge his skill and, like today, exchange blows briefly to gain insight. More than anything, the fact that he made time to face me is impressive. He’s someone who doesn’t need to prove his strength. But what’s even more impressive…”

The Left Guardian responded,

“I don’t know. What is it?”

The Sword Demon, now wearing a serious expression, said,

“He showed me the technique of the Six Combat Blade. He revealed his signature move in a duel like this. Maybe it was a way of provoking me to train harder—or just a show of confidence. That even if his technique is exposed, someone like me wouldn’t threaten him.”

I was genuinely impressed by the Alliance Leader’s mindset. The Left Guardian, however, took it more sourly.

“Then that makes it even more irritating. What an arrogant bastard.”

“No. There’s emotion behind it, too.”

The Sword Demon spoke, recalling the past.

“The Sixth Division that Im Sobaek once led in his youth—was annihilated by the current Demon Cult. He was the sole survivor. Naming his sword art after the ‘Sixth Division’ is his vow to never forget. He’ll never want to lose to anyone associated with the Demonic Sect.”

At that, both the Left Guardian and I fell silent.

“…….”

The Sword Demon continued.

“Even so, he dueled me, someone from the demonic side. That says he’s not narrow-minded. He probably wanted to tear me limb from limb—but as you saw, he never let his emotions show during the duel. He even invited me to join the Alliance. A man like that deserves a respectful match, and a calm acceptance of defeat. I doubt he holds any fondness toward me either.”

The Left Guardian asked cautiously,

“You didn’t… you weren’t the one who wiped out the Sixth Division, right?”

“If I had been, the two of us would’ve fought to the death today. You know that.”

Only then did my frustration begin to subside.

“So that’s the story behind that bastard Alliance Leader…”

Even the dumb bastard seemed to understand something, silently nodding several times.

In any case, this duel had meaning for the Sword Demon, the Lust Demon, and for me. Our personalities are all different, but we’re serious when it comes to martial arts.

This time, I asked the Sword Demon,

“Why did you go through with the duel now, of all times?”

He smiled.

“Think about it. Who else in Jianghu has dueled both the Cult Leader and the Alliance Leader? Only me. Of course I wanted you two to see it—but ultimately, this duel is my stepping stone. Strength doesn’t come from training alone. And Im Sobaek understands the meaning of a wooden sword duel.”

The Left Guardian asked,

“What meaning?”

“That victory or defeat doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, the Alliance Leader said that.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Despite his loss, the Sword Demon spoke with unwavering conviction.

“I have more techniques where I’m prepared to fight to the death. Im Sobaek surely knows that. But today, I just wanted to cross swords purely. And I lost. That’s all there is to this duel.”

The Left Guardian looked deflated—and just then, the Sword Demon suddenly snapped at him.

“If you want to get beaten like this someday, then keep playing around and chasing girls. I promise, you’ll never even get near the Alliance Leader.”

The Left Guardian hung his head.

The Sword Demon then turned and looked intently at me.

“But still… I don’t know how to counter this Six Combat Blade. I can’t exactly ask the Alliance Leader to explain it to me. Pavilion Lord, what do you think?”

From what he was saying, it really did seem like the Sword Demon had come here to learn from the Alliance Leader's blade.

And he showed absolutely no shame about losing.

That left quite an impression on me.

I thought it over, then pulled the Flash Dagger from my robe and held it in my hand.

“If I had to replicate the basic principle behind the Six Combat Blade…”

I infused it with the energy of the Flame Meridian.

The dagger turned a glowing red. Then, in an instant, I channeled the energy of the Wood Meridian, and the blade returned to its normal hue.

“I can’t say for certain, but I imagine it’s something like this—repeating that simple action six times in just a fleeting instant. The trajectory remains the same, but each repetition builds more destructive power. If it had been done with a real sword, the enemy’s weapon would’ve broken for sure. I think I might understand how this technique was born.”

The Sword Demon raised his brows slightly in surprise.

“You think you know?”

I nodded.

“If he started out as a low-ranking member of the Martial Alliance, then his family background likely wasn’t impressive. Back then, the cheap iron swords he used must’ve snapped often in countless duels. And without much money, he would’ve been forced to make those flimsy swords last. So maybe he created this technique from sheer necessity—a way to deliver devastating power without breaking the blade. Someone who’s never used a junk weapon wouldn’t be able to invent something like this. I get the feeling that whether it’s a rusted iron blade, a wooden sword, or a razor-sharp treasure weapon… the Alliance Leader’s sword would be just as deadly regardless. His swordsmanship seems to have been forged through real combat, survival… and poverty.”

That was my conclusion.

“What do you think, Senior?”

When I turned to look at the Sword Demon, he was staring at me wide-eyed.

“What the hell—?!”

He crossed his arms and said nothing, drifting into thought.

I glanced at the Dumb Bastard.

“You glaring at me, you little shit?”

He was staring too—but then quickly looked away and fell into his own silence.

Looking between the two of them, it seemed like they were really chewing over what I’d said.

And I realized something.

“So neither of these bastards have ever been poor.”

Neither the Left Guardian nor the Sword Demon could imagine that kind of struggle. That kind of desperate creativity born from lack.

But I… I’ve been poor my whole damn life.

That’s probably why I saw the Alliance Leader’s swordsmanship from a completely different angle. Since the two of them were lost in such serious thought, I slowly stepped back and said,

“Senior, it’s just a guess. Don’t take it too seriously.”

The Sword Demon shook his head.

“For a guess… no, based on the details, I think you’re right. With that technique, even a wooden sword wouldn’t break easily. The Alliance Leader must’ve broken through the wooden-sword level much faster than his peers. It’s one of those rare cases where suffering truly makes a martial art stronger.”

I said to him,

“Senior, don’t go praising him too much. It’s already ruining my mood.”

The Sword Demon laughed aloud.

“Fair enough.”

Honestly, I wasn’t feeling too great. Most people should know—don’t try to pull the “poverty” card on me.

Martial Alliance poverty versus Jomsoi poverty?

Yeah, that’s my win.

I’ve been poor enough to put them all to shame.

Come to think of it, the more I reflected on it, the more annoyed I got.

There are times when conversations just end for no reason—and this was one of those moments.

The three of us, me, the Left Guardian, and the Sword Demon, just stared at each other and all let out a short, dry snort.

“…….”

It was all so ridiculous… and oddly bitter. We each let out a small chuckle, as if to say: what a mess this is.

I turned to the Sword Demon.

“Senior, let’s have a drink today. You’ve earned yourself a bitter cup of defeat wine.”

The Sword Demon chuckled through his nose at that, clearly amused.

But it was the Dumb Bastard who snapped back instead.

“Hey! What’s with your tone whenever you talk to Master, you rude little shit?”

I turned to him slowly.

“Mongrang.”

“What.”

“How old are you?”

“……!”

There it was.

He’d pushed me to pull out the oldest, most fatal move of all pathetic men: “How old are you?”

Far as I know, the bastard’s a year or two younger than me.

And if we said it out loud in front of the Sword Demon—he’d have no choice but to start calling me “hyung” from now on.

The Dumb Bastard’s pupils started to quake, and he quickly changed the subject.

“Master… shall we have a drink tonight?”

The Sword Demon replied, his tone solemn.

“My disciple.”

“Yes.”

“I heard you don’t drink with men. And yet, you would grant such an honor to your Master and the Pavilion Lord? What a momentous occasion. A truly meaningful day, indeed.”

The Left Guardian stammered, his face turning beet red.

“N-no, Master…”

I burst into loud laughter, toppling over from my seated position.

The Sword Demon truly was strong.

And in my opinion, if a man wants to be strong—his words must be strong first.

Today, the Sword Demon was beating his disciple bloody with nothing but his mouth.