I Became the Successor of the Martial God
Chapter 11.
“It’s going to be disgustingly cold again today.”
In his room, Yoo Baek-jun looked up at the sky.
Perhaps because it was snowing, the sky seemed unusually dark. The outdoor temperature was probably below zero.
He slowly put on his Black Ghost Robe.
“Young Master, are you alright?”
As he descended from his room, Choi Seung-min greeted him with a face full of concern.
Yoo Baek-jun smiled faintly and patted his shoulder.
“Just prepare dinner. Since it’s cold, something warm would be nice today.”
“…I’ll prepare some hot soup with rice.”
“Sounds hearty. I like it.”
Yoo Baek-jun left the mansion and headed straight to the outdoor training grounds. The training area was filled with spectators, including family members and grandmasters.
And Han Seong-ah was there too.
“You’ve arrived, Young Master.”
“Why the long face?”
Like Choi Seung-min, her expression was filled with worry. She let out a small sigh.
“I don’t think the Young Master will lose. I’ve seen enough while training you.”
“Then there’s no need to worry, right?”
“As you know, Yoo Kang-ho is an exceptionally rough person… Even if you win, I’m worried you’ll be badly injured.”
Han Seong-ah took Yoo Baek-jun’s black ghost and handed him a training uniform and iron-reinforced gloves—equipment for the sparring match.
“How does my brother’s condition look today?”
“He seems fine. He usually drinks every day, but I heard he abstained yesterday.”
“You call one day without drinking ‘abstinence’?”
“For Yoo Kang-ho, it is. It seems he’s taking today’s match seriously too.”
“Hmm. Well, he does look in good shape.”
Across from them stood Yoo Kang-ho, his face twisted with rage. It felt like he wanted to tear Yoo Baek-jun apart right then and there.
‘I’ve made sure he’s absolutely furious.’
The moment the match began, he would charge like an enraged bull. And that would be Yoo Baek-jun’s perfect opportunity.
“By the way, Master Han Seong-ah, did you know? My brother, back when he was young, was so reckless that he wandered everywhere.”
“I’ve heard he was quite extraordinary.”
“Right. Then he ran into a monster and severely injured his right arm. It was completely shattered, and he barely managed to recover.”
“Is… that so?”
Han Seong-ah tilted her head in confusion.
Of course, she wouldn’t know. It happened before she joined the family as a trainee.
‘I only know because of the backstory.’
It wasn’t shown in the game.
Regardless, Yoo Kang-ho had severely injured his right arm, and the traces of it still remained.
That’s why he mastered Joint Strike and Heavy Strike.
“Shall I fight a little dirty?”
Those skills would be extremely useful in this match.
Yoo Baek-jun grinned fiercely.
―A new quest has been generated.
A message appeared at that moment.
[You’ve become the family’s troublemaker.]
Teach Yoo Kang-ho, the family troublemaker who’s tormented you since childhood, a lesson.
Show him that life is the real deal…….
Defeat Yoo Kang-ho in the sparring match to fulfill the conditions.
―Reward: 300P, increased proficiency in the ‘Book of the Martial God.’
Yoo Baek-jun’s eyes sparkled as he read the quest.
This was the reward he’d been waiting for.
‘The Book of the Martial God’s proficiency is harder to raise compared to other skills.’
Normally, skills improve the more and longer you use them. But the Book of the Martial God was different.
You had to complete quests, find remnants of the Martial God in the world, or clear special events.
‘This time, the proficiency is rising faster than I expected. Not bad.’
Yoo Baek-jun clenched and unclenched his fist.
He saw Yoo Moo-hak stepping onto the stage. The man took his seat and gave a slight nod—the signal to begin.
“Are both participants ready?”
A master shouted from the stage. Yoo Baek-jun nodded, and so did Yoo Kang-ho.
“Young Master, go ahead.”
Accepting Han Seong-ah’s encouragement, Yoo Baek-jun followed Yoo Kang-ho onto the stage.
“Then, we will now begin the match. I’ll count to five. One, two…….”
Yoo Baek-jun steadied his breathing.
Both wore training uniforms and wielded real swords. There was no rule against killing.
‘Losing here is no different from dying.’
Yoo Baek-jun tightened his fist.
And then…
“…Five!”
The match began.
* * *
‘I’ll kill him.’
That was Yoo Kang-ho’s thought.
He knew it was a sparring match, but there was no rule against killing.
The weapons were real swords.
To wash away this humiliation, he had to kill that bastard or at least cripple him.
“That’s the only way I’ll feel satisfied, little brother!”
Yoo Kang-ho charged forward, sword extended.
He lowered his stance, pointed his blade downward, and used his momentum to thrust.
His opponent, Yoo Baek-jun, stood motionless.
“Hrrgh!”
Yoo Kang-ho’s arm moved.
At an invisible speed, his arm unleashed five thrusts in a single motion.
It was one of the techniques of the Heavenly Destruction Sword Technique—Nine Dragon Fangs(九龍牙).
Though his skill was still lacking, he could only manage five thrusts.
‘But this is enough.’
A blindingly fast sword strike.
There was no way an amateur who hadn’t even learned this martial art could dodge it.
And indeed, it seemed that way.
‘What’s that light?’
Yoo Baek-jun’s leg glowed red.
He kicked the ground with all his might, channeling his energy.
Did he miss because he put too much force into it? Yoo Kang-ho inwardly sneered.
But…
“Kgh!”
That wasn’t the case.
The stones and sand Yoo Baek-jun kicked up with his strike rained down on Yoo Kang-ho.
The unexpected attack disrupted his technique, and the stones pelted his entire body.
“Aaaagh!”
But something was strange.
The pain was unbearable—far worse than what mere sand and stones should cause.
Yoo Kang-ho opened his eyes.
“This is…!”
What he saw were the stones and sand, now frozen solid and sharp as arrowheads.
Yoo Kang-ho was stunned.
“Huh?!”
At that moment, Yoo Baek-jun closed the distance at an incredible speed.
Yoo Kang-ho needed to defend—but he couldn’t.
“Guh—!”
Yoo Baek-jun’s fist moved first.
It was one of the three techniques of the Three Disasters Fist technique—an uppercut aimed at exploiting an opponent’s opening and striking their chin.
“Ugh…!”
His brain rattled from the impact.
No matter how strong a man was, no one could withstand a blow that shook their brain.
Yoo Kang-ho staggered for a brief moment.
“Hmph!”
Yoo Baek-jun didn’t miss the opportunity.
He swiftly moved behind Yoo Kang-ho, planting his feet firmly and clenching his fist near his waist.
‘The right elbow—that’s where the scar is.’
The spot where Yoo Kang-ho had been injured as a child.
His arm had been completely shattered by a monster and barely healed. The problem was that the bone there had weakened as a result.
Yoo Baek-jun’s eyes gleamed.
‘If your opponent has a weakness, dig into it until they die…!’
His fist brimmed with magical power.
Like drawing a bowstring, Yoo Baek-jun pulled his fist back—then unleashed it.
Crack!
“Huh…!”
His fist struck Yoo Kang-ho’s right elbow.
The combined force of the joint strike passive skill and the magic power punch-infused Heavy Strike skill was tremendous.
“Gaaaah!”
His right arm broke instantly, bending in a direction it should never have gone. Unable to endure the pain, Yoo Kang-ho let out a scream.
“You… you bastard!”
But Yoo Kang-ho was also a child of the Sword Saint family.
Switching his sword to his uninjured left hand, he immediately attempted to counterattack.
His ability to wield a sword with either hand, a skill honed from childhood injuries, made this possible.
Swish!
However, Yoo Baek-jun retreated before he could strike.
Lightly pushing off the ground, his figure seemed to bounce away, disappearing backward. It was the lower-tier lightness skill, Swift Step.
“How dare you break my arm!”
Yoo Kang-ho chased after Yoo Baek-jun, unleashing his footwork.
His speed was nothing to scoff at. As he channeled magical energy, he executed Nine Dragon Fangs once more.
“Raaaah!”
Five rapid thrusts targeted Yoo Baek-jun. Calmly, he read their trajectories—aimed at his head, shoulder, and chest. With a flick of his foot, he leaped sideways to evade.
‘Did you really think you could dodge?!’
The thrusts missed, cutting through empty air. But that didn’t matter. This, too, was part of Yoo Kang-ho’s plan. Yoo Baek-jun, now mid-air after dodging, had no ground to maneuver.
“You can’t use that footwork in the air…!”
The Heavenly Destruction Sword Technique was fluid. Its techniques accounted for missed strikes, allowing seamless transitions.
The philosophy was simple: always assume the opponent will evade or block, and press the offense relentlessly.
SWISH!
Yoo Kang-ho adjusted his grip, converting the thrust into a horizontal slash—Moon Cleaver(斬月).
True to its name, the magical power-infused blade arced in a crescent, aiming to bisect like a blade through the moon.
“I’ll cut that arm off!”
Trapped in mid-air, Yoo Baek-jun couldn’t use Swift Step. With no other choice, he opened his iron-reinforced glove wide.
“Hah!”
Yoo Kang-ho scoffed at the sight.
Did he really think he could block a skill barehanded? His sword would slice through that palm in one stroke.
Or so he thought.
Clang!
“What…?!”
The blade, shrouded in magical energy, met Yoo Baek-jun’s palm—and an odd sound rang out. Iron grinding against Iron.
SCREECH!
Yoo Kang-ho stared in shock at Yoo Baek-jun’s palm, now wreathed in a searing aura akin to blazing flames.
“S-Sword Aura?!”
He recognized it instantly.
Sword Aura—not the ordinary kind, but one imbued with an elemental manifestation. A skill requiring several times the mastery of basic aura projection.
“H-How do you know how to use that…?”
Yoo Baek-jun gripped the blade. The sword heated unbearably, the hilt scorching Yoo Kang-ho’s palm. But the pain barely registered in his disbelief.
“I trained a bit while you weren’t looking. What, did you think I couldn’t use Sword Aura?”
Crack!
Yoo Baek-jun tightened his grip. The sword emitted a metallic groan as fissures spiderwebbed across it.
“So, brother, how does it feel to lose to a weakling who only trained for a week?”
“You—!”
Boom!
A sudden punch to the gut sent Yoo Kang-ho flying. Yoo Baek-jun pursued, relentless.
Whoosh!
‘Gale Kick.’
A barrage of merciless strikes followed.
Whip-like legs hammered Yoo Kang-ho’s body before a final downward kick slammed him into the ground.
THUD!
“Ghk…! Cough…!”
Yoo Kang-ho lay crumpled, a wreck. His right arm was broken, ribs shattered from the assault. Blood trickled from his mouth, likely from internal injuries.
‘T-This can’t be…!’
His mind reeled.
‘Sword Aura…! And such an unorthodox technique’.
There had been no opening to counter. Just a one-sided beatdown. Every attack was unpredictable, yet flawlessly chained.
‘And this… from Yoo Baek-jun?!’
Staggering, Yoo Kang-ho forced himself up, clutching his broken sword with trembling hands.
“What do you plan to do with just the hilt of a broken sword?”
“Kuh… haah… ugh…!”
His eyes were glazed, barely conscious. Yet pride refused to let him stay down.
“Pathetic, brother.”
Yoo Baek-jun approached slowly.
“Know why Father turned a blind eye to all your disgraceful antics?”
Yoo Kang-ho didn’t answer, though faint focus returned to his gaze.
“Because you had talent. Enough to get away with it. But you squandered it.”
Yoo Baek-jun halted.
“Now, you’ll pay the price.”
“Shut… up… you damn… bastard…!”
Yoo Kang-ho seethed, gripping the hilt. A broken sword posed no threat. Yoo Baek-jun exhaled, settling into a stance.
Hiss!
The sound of wind escaping his lips.
In a flash, Yoo Baek-jun closed the distance, right arm cocked back.
Wham!
“Gahk!”
A devastating strike, fueled by momentum, slammed into Yoo Kang-ho’s gut. His back arched violently before an elbow hammered him down.
Crash!
The second technique of Three Disasters Fist Technique.
Yoo Kang-ho collapsed, unable to rise. Yoo Baek-jun yanked him up by the hair.
“The Sword Saint family follows the law of the jungle. The strong devour the weak.”
Their eyes locked.
“Now, I’m the strong one. And you, brother, are weak. So—”
A growl, feral and final.
His glare promised annihilation.
“…..Your estate, wealth, status… I’ll take it all.”
The victor’s right.
Thud!
Yoo Kang-ho’s head hit the ground, unconscious.
Yoo Baek-jun rose, scoffing.
“……”
His gaze swept the arena. Family members, grandmasters—all stared, stunned.
Except one.
Yoo Moo-hak.
Their eyes met.
“Hm.”
The stoic patriarch smiled.
Quietly.
