TSBIRBV Ch 236

Chapter 236. Biheeyeon (6)

The demonic cultivator who stepped into the center of the arena swung his crescent blade with a showy flourish.

Standing beside Haryang like a sentinel, the towering man did not so much as glance at him. He simply stood there, silent and unmoving.

Yegyeol thought once again that Yao Hongyeo was the very image of steadfastness. The Biheeyeon was an exceedingly important event within the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains. Even for someone as towering and solid in presence as Hongyeo, ignoring a formal challenge would draw the ire of many. Yet it was clear he could not care less.

In a way, he did not seem human at all. He appeared wholly uninterested in breathing, blending, or living among others.

Even so, Yegyeol understood him. The man served a code higher than that of the Demonic Cult itself.

“Hongyeo.”

Je Haryang’s calm voice broke the silence.

At the low call, the massive figure turned immediately and dropped to one knee.

“My lord. You called for me.”

It was like watching a stone Buddha come to life.

“Go. Entertain him.”

When Haryang smiled, baring his teeth slightly, Hongyeo bowed his head as though he had been waiting only for that command.

“I receive your order.”

With great strides he descended the steps. At the last moment, he leapt and landed on the arena floor with astonishing lightness. Not a single grain of sand stirred, not even a puff of dust rose.

Those who had attained a certain level of mastery, like Yao Hongyeo, could defy the very laws of nature. Were scientists from Yegyeol’s old world to witness it, they would faint—or else rush to claim the discovery for a research paper.

They said that when espers first appeared in the modern world, scientists had wept in frustration and wonder alike.

While Yegyeol was grinning to himself over this pointless fantasy, Haryang, watching him with faint amusement, murmured in sound transmission:

[Watch closely.]

Hearing the voice in his ear, Yegyeol gave no outward sign of surprise and absently stroked Baembaem’s scales.

[There is much in his fistwork you might learn from.]

Fistwork?

He used his fists?

Yegyeol’s eyes sharpened as he looked toward the arena. Indeed—Hongyeo was unarmed.

A battle of spear versus bare hands—he was at an obvious disadvantage in reach.

The bold demonic cultivator who had called out Yao Hongyeo’s name glared at his opponent, his eyes burning with challenge.

“I am Na Yeongya of the Sacheol Tanglang.”

“Yao Hongyeo.”

The introduction was stripped of title or style-name—plain and simple—but that very simplicity made it sound as though he were dismissing his opponent entirely. Yegyeol clicked his tongue inwardly. That sort of thing surely caused endless misunderstandings.

“His opponent’s weapon is so long… will Hongyeo be all right?”

Yegyeol asked, drawing in his shoulders with feigned anxiety, as if wracked with worry.

It was pure pretense, yet to Haryang, that worried expression appeared flawlessly sincere.

Blinking once or twice, he gave a small smile.

“When Hongyeo fights atop Jeokroe, he wields a guangchang as large as Samrang’s, but…” He paused, amusement flickering in his tone. “On foot, he prefers grappling techniques.”

At the mention of a guangchang as tall as an adult woman, Yegyeol’s eyelid twitched.

To handle such a massive weapon required not only tremendous grip strength but also the endurance to match. Even aided by inner energy, it demanded an innate power of the body.

It really did look about a meter long at least…

His raw strength must be monstrous.

“Grappling techniques?”

“Mhm…”

Haryang’s lips curved faintly.

“It will be clearer when you see it for yourself.”

Yegyeol nodded and turned his gaze back to the arena. The figure standing there, solid and immovable, seemed both unfamiliar and strangely known.

It felt different now that someone he knew was on the Biheeyeon stage. Somehow, with a person to root for, the blood stirred more eagerly.

But contrary to his anticipation, the opening was cautious—an exchange of probing blows. Na Yeongya of the Sacheol Tanglang danced around the center, brandishing her crescent blade in teasing arcs. She spat a few provocative remarks, but it was futile; Hongyeo did not even blink.

Her expression fell slightly at his indifference, but Yegyeol watched closely, studying every movement.

When Hongyeo moved—hands or feet striking toward an approaching foe—it was with heavy, coarse power. His limbs were long, his reach vast, so even against a pole weapon, he yielded no ground.

He wasn’t pressing an attack, merely standing fast; he was a fortress given human form.

Yet after watching him a while, Yegyeol discerned his flaw easily enough.

His footwork. He had not shifted his stance once.

Normally, his mount, Jeokroe, moves for him, Yegyeol guessed.

His opponent must have noticed the same thing. Na Yeongya suddenly leapt back, then sprang forward, body twisting in a whirlwind of motion.

“That’s Gahyeol Step—the secret movement technique of the Seven Demon Master!”

“Gahyeol Step! I’ve heard it’s nearly as disorienting as the Cheonma Dominion Step—it scrambles one’s mind and makes channeling inner energy near impossible. Gods, the Biheeyeon is magnificent. What a spectacle!”

“Terrifying…”

Yegyeol’s sharp hearing caught every whisper and commentary from the stands. The last voice even laughed as he spoke—not out of cruelty, but out of exhilaration at witnessing a true life-and-death clash.

Indeed, that technique was no ordinary martial art. Though Na Yeongya’s path appeared twisted, her arrival at her target was faster than any straight line. She came not from the front but from Hongyeo’s rear.

Her crescent blade lashed down, gleaming, like the mantis’s sickle claws it was named for, aiming to split his skull.

Despite the unpredictable, serpentine trajectory, her speed was blinding. Most onlookers had assumed she would strike his front or flank.

But astonishingly, Yao Hongyeo was already turning before she reached him.

He’s a beast, Yegyeol thought, awed.

Were Yegyeol in his place, he might have caught her movement through heightened senses alone—his own perception far exceeded that of ordinary humans. But Hongyeo’s response was not one born of sight, sound, or smell.

They said Gahyeol Step scrambles the mind…

The announcers knew martial arts better than anyone; they couldn’t all be wrong.

Na Yeongya’s crescent blade descended toward his face, her eyes blazing not with hatred but with fierce fighting spirit that devoured her reason.

“Wing Net Selection!”

At the cry of her technique, violet energy burst from the crescent blade, spreading like wings—no, like a net of light—to envelop Yao Hongyeo.

It was a dazzling storm of blade-qi. Blinding his vision, sealing his movement, Na Yeongya lunged for the decisive strike.

The sound of the crescent blade slicing the air was savage enough to make Yegyeol’s heart pound.

Then, at the razor’s edge of danger, Hongyeo raised both arms. Clapping his hands together, he caught the sides of the blade, his grip locking it fast.

Na Yeongya’s eyes blazed with fury—he had neither dodged nor feared her killing move, only met it head-on. Their strengths collided across the weapon, tension crackling.

At last, the blade edge tore across Hongyeo’s cheek.

“Ah!”

“Good heavens!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Yegyeol smiled faintly. The demons of the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains were said to be terrifying, yet watching them gasp and cheer with each turn of the fight made them seem almost ordinary.

In a way, it felt less like a death match and more like watching a baseball game.

Not that I’ve ever been to one, he mused.

The excitement, the envy, the fervor—they seemed almost tangible in the air.

Then, a deep hum vibrated through the arena—the sound of the crescent blade itself moaning. Shock flitted across Na Yeongya’s face; she tried to retreat.

But Hongyeo released one hand and struck the weapon hard with the other.

Crash!

The tip of the blade, already strained by their struggle, shattered. Despair crossed Na Yeongya’s face—clearly, this was her cherished weapon.

“The Heaven-Piercing Crescent Blade…!” someone cried.

From its grand name, it was surely a masterpiece forged by some famed artisan—or a weapon steeped in long history.

But Yao Hongyeo did not so much as raise a brow.

“When they first clashed… he must have damaged it then?”

Yegyeol whispered to Haryang.

“He didn’t break it outright. He weakened it—just enough that, at a crucial moment like this, he could strike decisively.”

Yegyeol stuck out his tongue, impressed, and looked back at Hongyeo.

Now that he had seized the advantage, Hongyeo paid no mind to the blood running down his cheek. He merely pressed a pressure point to staunch it—that was the entirety of his treatment.

Calm, almost brutal endurance.

So that’s why he has so many scars, Yegyeol thought.

Watching his cunning, his power, his deliberate restraint, he couldn’t help but think Hongyeo was like a bear—steady, deliberate, unstoppable.

Feigning slowness while laying traps, overwhelming foes with sheer, ponderous strength—it sounded simple, but to do so required perfect understanding of one’s body and years of refinement through pain and discipline.

He must have carved himself into steel through endless, grueling training.

And they say he’s even stronger when mounted…

Yegyeol shook his head and murmured to Haryang,

“If it were Hongyeo, he could probably carve a mountain down into a hill with his bare hands.”

“Perhaps he already has.”

Haryang’s lips curved faintly, his tone light yet edged with meaning.

Was that a jest—or not?