The sun rose pale and slow, spilling muted gold across the cracked fortress yard. A low mist hugged the stone ground, curling between boots and broken training staves. Every breath steamed in the morning chill. The duel circle had been marked in silence—no banners, no drums, no spectators shouting bets.
Only respect.
Baek Sun-Ho stood at one edge of the ring, calm as stone. His robes were simple, his hair tied back. Lightning still hummed faintly beneath his skin, but he kept it reined in, his aura rippling no stronger than a high Inner Core cultivator.
Across from him, Kang Mu-Jin stood unmoving.
A wall of a man. He wore dark iron armor, polished but unadorned. No weapon. He needed none.
The Iron Wall Sect's heir had never been knocked down—not once in his lifetime.
And today, he intended to keep it that way.
---
"Begin."
The word cut the silence like a sword.
Mu-Jin moved first—not charging, not lunging, but stepping forward with the weight of a landslide. His qi burst outward like a hammer strike, condensing into a dome around him. Defensive aura. Perfectly woven. A fortress moving on legs.
Sun-Ho didn't flinch. He let Mu-Jin approach, his own stance still fluid, hands open. Water flowing around a rock.
Kwak—
The first blow was a palm strike that should have crushed ribs.
But Sun-Ho slipped just enough.
The air boomed from impact, dust lifting around them.
Mu-Jin narrowed his eyes. "You dodged."
"Was that not allowed?"
"I expected a counter."
Sun-Ho smiled faintly. "I'll counter when I need to."
---
Blow after blow followed. Mu-Jin struck with the rhythm of a blacksmith—no flair, no wasted motion. And each time, Sun-Ho dodged by a breath, deflecting gently, redirecting force.
The audience of heirs, sect observers, and silent agents leaned forward from the shadows. Many hadn't seen Mu-Jin fight this long before finishing it.
Then Sun-Ho moved.
Crackle—!
Lightning laced his fingertips for half a heartbeat—barely noticeable. He tapped Mu-Jin's elbow mid-punch and twisted. The massive arm faltered. Just slightly.
Mu-Jin stepped back for the first time.
Murmurs rippled through the observers.
---
"Your technique," Mu-Jin said, steady, "isn't fire-based."
"It's not." Sun-Ho lowered his stance. "I'm not here to show power. Just balance."
"Balance won't win against steel."
Sun-Ho's eyes flickered. "Then let's test it."
He stepped forward—just one step—and struck.
A simple punch.
But infused with pinpoint lightning.
ZZT—
It bypassed Mu-Jin's outer aura like silk through chainmail. The shock paralyzed the limb for a moment, and Sun-Ho pivoted into a sweep.
BOOM—
Mu-Jin staggered. Not down, but shaken. His defense had been broken—for just a second.
He looked at his arm. "You found the crack."
Sun-Ho nodded. "Every fortress has one."
---
Then Mu-Jin smiled.
It was the first time anyone had seen him do it.
"Good," he said, adjusting his stance. "Then let me return the favor."
He slammed both palms into the ground.
The stone beneath Sun-Ho shattered upward—not from qi, but from shockwave. Earthquake qi. An advanced technique of the Iron Wall Sect, meant for battlefield control.
Sun-Ho leapt into the air just as spikes of stone erupted. Midair, his foot sparked—
SNAP—CRACK!
He vanished in a bolt of light, reappearing just behind Mu-Jin.
A single strike to the back.
But Mu-Jin turned—already prepared.
Their fists met mid-spin.
BOOM!
A dome of qi exploded outward, sending debris flying.
When the dust settled…
Mu-Jin stood, his armor cracked at the shoulder. His breathing heavier.
Sun-Ho stood, blood on his lip, but steady.
They locked eyes.
Then, slowly, Mu-Jin raised a hand.
"I yield."
---
Gasps filled the air. No one had ever heard those words from the Iron Wall Sect's heir.
Master Jang smiled quietly in the distance.
Sun-Ho bowed. "Thank you for the match."
Mu-Jin bowed back. "You didn't win with power."
"No."
"You won with clarity."
He nodded once and walked off without another word.
As Mu-Jin disappeared into the shadows of the fortress, the rest of the party gathered around Sun-Ho.
So-Ri exhaled. "That could've gone a lot worse."
Ji-Mun tapped his own chest. "My ribs cracked just watching."
Ma-Rok grunted in approval. "He fights like a mountain. You moved like lightning wrapped in silk. Scary combination."
Yul-Rin checked Sun-Ho's shoulder for injuries, clicking her tongue. "You didn't even dodge the shockwave entirely. That bruise is going to bloom like a lotus."
"I've had worse," he said with a small smile.
Yeon simply held up a charcoal sketch—Sun-Ho mid-air, cloak billowing, lightning in hand.
"Did you draw this just now?" Ji-Mun asked, peering over his shoulder.
Yeon nodded.
Sun-Ho looked at the image, surprised at the detail. "That's… actually really good."
The boy didn't smile, but he held up another sign:
Don't lose next time. I'll have to redraw.
So-Ri laughed. "Our youngest is already your harshest critic."
Master Jang finally approached, sipping tea from a fresh porcelain cup. "You kept your promise. Not too flashy. No deaths. But just enough spectacle."
"You're disappointed," Sun-Ho said, half-joking.
The old man shrugged. "A little. Theatrics sell."
Sun-Ho glanced around at the hushed murmurs spreading like wildfire from the gathered crowd.
"Theatrics are happening on their own."
Master Jang raised his cup. "Indeed. And your myth just grew again."
---
That night, the fortress was quieter.
Not because of fear. But because of awe.
In every corner, whispers of the duel grew louder. Not just about Baek Sun-Ho.
But about the way he fought.
No cruelty. No chaos. Just clarity.
And somewhere, in the far balcony of the fortress…
A shadowed figure watched the moonlight dancing off stone.
"The Sovereign of Balance," she murmured. "Interesting."
---
End of Chapter 79 – The Iron Duel