## Ch-119.
—
The spar between Lorellia and Bakered, held deep in the mountains away from prying eyes, unfolded exactly as everyone had expected—one-sided.
Even without that dreadful crimson world opening, Bakered’s fists could not withstand Lorellia’s.
It was only natural that Bakered—who had not long ago reached the Seventh Rank—would be defeated by Lorellia. Yet though the outcome was one-sided, the match did not end quickly.
She could have ended it at any moment had she wished, but Lorellia allowed Bakered to display his full strength.
It was not an act of cruelty. Having poured out his full power, Bakered stepped back with a refreshed expression, offering Lorellia his sincere thanks.
“Next, Gongsun Myeong!”
Gongsun Myeong, who had been observing, was dragged forward next. He was a master several steps above Bakered.
Why his title was “Hundred Swords” became evident to all who watched. In fact, it felt as though the title was insufficient.
Gongsun Myeong wielded a sword in each hand and fought with ten telekinetic blades.
Though he controlled twelve swords in total, the countless transformations and the addition of blade-qi slashes made it seem as though more than a hundred—no, hundreds or thousands—were striking at once.
“I concede.”
Though he demonstrated astonishing martial prowess and fought for quite some time, the flow was one-sided, and the match ended with him acknowledging defeat of his own accord.
*Still far.*
Looking down at his tingling hands, Gongsun Myeong swallowed a sigh.
There was no small amount of regret.
Compared to the days before he became Sect Leader—when he had simply been beaten down—he had advanced by leaps and bounds. Yet the wall remained towering.
*Eighth Rank… no, Ninth?*
He could not know her exact Rank.
Nor could he ask.
At that level, it was advantageous to conceal one’s Rank. The fact that the precise Ranks of the Supreme Martial Zeniths and the Tower Masters were unknown was for that very reason.
If he dared to guess… even conservatively, she must at least be at the peak of the Eighth Rank. Even the Sword Emperor or the White Silver Martial Queen would struggle to claim victory against the Calamity Star.
*No… I heard my elder sister once lost to her…*
For generations, Yicheon Sword Sect and the Yeonri family had been allies.
That bond was especially close in this era. White Silver Martial Queen Yeonri Sang-ah was Gongsun Myeong’s sworn sibling, and he had personally heard of certain private duels unknown to the public.
He knew she was strong—had seen and heard it before—but to suffer such an overwhelming defeat at his current level left his heart unsettled.
“Go ahead without me. I will remain and swing my sword a while longer.”
He would vent his lingering frustration through the blade.
Bowing once, Gongsun Myeong headed toward Sharp Sword Valley.
“It seems we will not have time to guide you today. I, Lorellia, feel great guilt at failing to fulfill my duty…”
“Simply watching was of immense help.”
Estor’s eyes, which had not blinked properly through the consecutive spars, were bloodshot and brimming with tears.
“I, Haryeong, believe it will take a week—no, half a month—just to digest the martial arts of heaven beyond heaven that I witnessed today.”
Haryeong deliberately imitated Lorellia’s peculiar speech.
By creating a sense of shared tone, she hoped for mercy.
It was true she had been genuinely moved by the lofty spar. In particular, Gongsun Myeong’s telekinetic sword art had given her great inspiration.
So please, at least let her rest for half a month…
“Merely digesting it is not enough! Let us train even harder tomorrow to make up for today!”
“Wow, I am so excited.”
At the merciless response, Haryeong raised both arms with dead eyes.
When would this hellish routine end?
“By the way, Lady Lorellia—does this training truly end only when I reach the Sixth Rank?”
“Of course it does!”
“Hah, ha, ha…”
Haryeong laughed hollowly.
The Sixth Rank was not some stray dog’s name.
She swallowed the sarcastic retort that might get her beaten to death.
“ Bakered-nim.”
Before reaching Pointed Sword Pavilion, Yuri spoke.
Grinning, he took out a bottle of liquor he had prepared in advance.
“The weather is fine—what do you say?”
“Hah.”
Bakered laughed despite himself.
“Did you not say we would drink after I succeeded in my revenge? Or do you believe I will fail and thus wish to drink now?”
“If you depart tomorrow, it may be years before we meet again. Let us drink to wish you success.”
“You have grown more glib than before. I had intended to emulate the Sect Leader and swing my fists a while longer, but I suppose that cannot be helped.”
Laughing heartily, Bakered stepped closer.
“I, Lorellia, shall not interfere with your reunion. However, Yuri! You must not overdrink. Tomorrow’s sun will rise regardless, and when it does, we shall train.”
“Then please join us as well, Lady Lorellia.”
“…Pardon?”
Lorellia’s eyes widened. Bakered’s did as well.
He could understand Yuri asking him to drink—but why invite the Calamity Star?
“…Hmm.”
Blinking several times, Lorellia smiled gently and nodded, stepping closer to Yuri.
Thus, the group split off.
[What is this all of a sudden?]
[Please, just make sure Lady Lorellia drinks herself into oblivion and cannot rise tomorrow.]
Though the contents differed, Estor and Haryeong each received telepathic messages at once.
“Head back first.”
Drunk into oblivion? To render someone of her caliber unable to rise, one might need to fill an entire well with liquor.
They entered the forest and found a suitable place.
The branches were not overly dense, so the night sky was visible. There were stones fit to sit upon.
They chose one.
The large rock was uneven and uncomfortable, but Yuri roughly smoothed it with his hand.
“Please, be seated first.”
“Why this sudden formality?”
Bakerrd still looked bewildered, not understanding why Lorellia was present.
Lorellia, however, naturally climbed atop the stone and sat on her knees.
Seeing this, Bakered could not simply remain standing and sat down as well.
“Regardless of what you two think, in my heart, I regard you both as my masters.”
He felt it needed to be said.
He wanted to say it.
Yuri uncorked the bottle. It was not some rare vintage prepared for this occasion—but it was decent enough, and its fragrance spread as the seal broke.
“Lady Lorellia laid the foundation for me to survive in this world.”
“Ah…!”
Possessors met a priest of Order before being cast into this world and received instruction.
Only then did Bakered fully understand the nature of Yuri and Lorellia’s relationship.
“And Lord Bakered taught me Rantian Flowing Cloud Fist.”
He placed two cups before them.
“You need not acknowledge me as a disciple.”
In the reception hall, Lorellia had said she did not like the burden of the master–disciple relationship. Priest and possessor was sufficient. Claiming him as a disciple would bring complications.
Now he understood why.
Lorellia’s name carried immense weight in this world—and there was also her connection to the Heavenly Demon of the Demonic Cult.
In Lutran, Bakered had also drawn a line. He said he could not be a master. He did not wish to pass on his karma. Even under persistent questioning, he had not spoken of it.
“But I will think of you as my masters. Please accept the drink.”
Now, they knew each other’s burdens.
Yuri filled their cups and stepped back.
“Please accept my bow as well.”
He did not wait for a response.
Uncertain of the proper etiquette of this world, he nevertheless performed a full formal bow first to Lorellia, then to Bakered.
“You have become quite sly.”
Lorellia, who had been chuckling, finally spoke.
“You do not even wait for an answer—how very unilateral. I, Lorellia, am greatly impressed by the shameless growth of Yuri.”
“If I am doing as I please, why should the answer matter?”
“In that case, I, Lorellia, shall also act as I please. Yuri, as I told you before—I cannot become your master. Even if you regard me as such, I will not regard myself so.”
Yet even as she said that, Lorellia picked up her cup.
“Please do not think me too cold. I am a priest of the Order Church, and thus I cannot form a martial master–disciple bond. And… the karma I bear is not something that can be shared. So please, do not call me your master.”
“I understand.”
“However, whether I am your master or not, I will teach you with all sincerity. And not only you— Haryeong and
Estor are also worthy of receiving instruction.”
Lorellia emptied the cup in one swallow and set it down neatly, smiling.
“This is the first time I have touched alcohol since ascending to holy Priestess. For other matters I would have refused, but this one cup—I wished to drink. Please let that ease any disappointment.”
“Even if I do not call you so aloud, I will still regard you as my master in my heart. Your refusal does not trouble me.”
“You truly do as you please.”
Lorellia chuckled and turned toward Bakered.
“Then I shall humor this obstinacy as well. Though I am not Yuri’s master, I will offer my thanks to you, Fist Wolf. Without your teachings, the Yuri of today would not exist.”
“Hah…”
Bakered let out a short laugh as he stared blankly at his cup.
“It is more than I deserve—an honor. To think that I, once a mere wandering swordsman, would receive a bow from the Calamity Saint’s disciple and thanks from the Calamity Saint herself.”
“Yuri is not my disciple!”
“Ah, yes, that was so. Not master and disciple… haha, something like master, something like disciple—such a relationship, was it?”
Recalling a conversation from two years ago, Bakered laughed again.
“Then allow me to amend what I said. From now on, I must not call myself insignificant. If I do, I would be insulting that fellow who insists on calling me master—and you, Calamity Saint, who thanked me.”
Bakered lifted his cup.
“Still, I cannot help but hesitate.”
“What is there to hesitate over? I have told you my secret, and I know your circumstances. I have already met Agwi and become entangled with him. Like it or not, I am involved in your revenge.”
“I have no intention of seeking your help.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Seen anew, Lorellia and Bakered resembled each other. Both had lost family to enemies and sought revenge. Both rejected being called master, even while fulfilling that role—because they did not wish to pass their karma onto a disciple.
“I will handle things myself.”
It was not Yuri’s place to argue. Rather than cling and persuade, it was simpler to act as he pleased. Recently, what he had learned from Lorellia was not limited to Evil-Quelling Heavenly Principle Technique and Blazing Burst Fist.
“So then—are you saying you will not accept me as a disciple either, Bakered-nim?”
“It is embarrassing and makes my skin crawl.”
“Yes, feel free to refuse as you please.”
“I dislike it—but I will not refuse.”
Yuri’s cheek twitched at the unexpected reply.
“As you said, matters have been cleared. If someone who learned from me for a mere month insists on calling me master, that is something to be grateful for. And if the Calamity Saint has refused, yet I refuse as well, how ashamed would you be?”
Bakered snorted lightly and poured the liquor into his mouth.
“However, do not call me master in front of others. As before, keep it in your heart. That will be easier for both of us.”
“Yes.”
Yuri did not argue further. He could guess the reason.
Bakered was pursuing the Saint known as Ghost Mask. He likely feared that acknowledging the relationship openly might bring harm to Yuri.
“Lady Lorellia, do you know anything about one of the Evil God’s Saints called Ghost Mask?”
“Even if I did, I could not tell you. You know that.”
At the mention of a Saint, Lorellia’s expression turned cold.
“Those sons of whores who dare call themselves Saints killed a priest of Order long ago and went into hiding. There is a binding prohibition upon me—I cannot speak even a word about those bastards.”
“I thought perhaps the prohibition would have lifted after two years.”
“Do not speak nonsense. And why do you ask about this Ghost Mask?”
“He apparently has ill fate with Bakered-nim.”
At that, Lorellia’s red eyes snapped toward Bakered.
“If the opportunity arises, I intend to kill him with my own hands.”
“Ah! May the Goddess of Order’s blessing be with you!”
Lorellia immediately clasped her hands in prayer.
Would the blessing of a goddess said to be in deep slumber, scarcely able to bestow divine power, truly be effective? The thought crossed Yuri’s mind—but he kept silent. Saying it aloud would likely earn him a punch.
“May I sit now?”
“If I am to be your master, bow once more.”
“Though I have decided not to become your master, I would still like to receive one more bow from Yuri.”
Bowing would not wear down his knees. Yuri complied, bowing once more to Lorellia, then to Bakered.
Lorellia beamed and filled her cup again before handing it to Yuri.
“I have resolved not to drink beyond that first cup, so you shall drink this.”
“Drinking from the same cup you used is a bit…”
“What is wrong with a cup I have used? I have already filled it—take it and drink!”
There was no refusing. As soon as Yuri drained it, Bakered poured more.
“Disciple, receive your drink.”
“Yes, Master.”
Hearing it spoken aloud was awkward and ticklish indeed.
They slowly emptied the bottle and spoke of how they had spent the past two years.
None of the tales were particularly long. Lorellia had spent two years in wall-facing meditation. Bakered had secluded himself in the mountains, devoted to breaking through his wall. Yuri had fought recklessly in the shadows, accumulating experience.
There was little to elaborate upon, and before the night grew too deep, the conversation came to a close.
“I will depart now.”
When the bottle had been emptied cleanly, Bakered rose from the rock.
“…Now? I thought you would leave tomorrow.”
“I have never had a disciple, nor intended to. To sleep and wake with this feeling, then see your face again—it would be embarrassing and burdensome. We have drunk, I have received your bows, and the night is bright. It is best I leave now.”
He feared that if he waited until morning, he might hesitate to go.
That would not do.
“One bottle hardly makes a difference.”
“Next time, I will prepare plenty.”
Yuri and Lorellia stepped down from the rock as well. Lorellia clasped her hands and smiled.
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with you.”
“My thanks.”
Bakered returned the salute with clasped fists.
“I wish you fortune in battle, Master.”
“Train diligently, Disciple.”
Thud. Bakered patted Yuri’s shoulder once, then stepped back a distance and bent his knees.
—Boom! With a heavy sound, his massive frame shot into the sky. Yuri looked up at Bakered rising into the star-filled night.
Bakered looked down at Yuri.
*An undeserved disciple.*
He had thought so two years ago as well. Even when he had refused to be a master, he had recognized Yuri’s genius. He had been certain that someday, as naturally as breathing, Yuri would ascend to great heights.
And he had been right.
Sixth Rank in two years. Perhaps next time they met, he would have reached the Seventh.
*Even so, now that I have agreed to be his master, I must remain stronger than my disciple.*
Even if Yuri would someday surpass him, he wished to delay that day as long as possible.
“Next time, I must show a more masterly figure.”
He had no confidence in offering better guidance than the Calamity Saint…
Chuckling to himself, Bakered ran across the night sky.
