The Return of the Crazy Demon-Chapter 320: Jomsoi’s Chopstick-Like Life

“Hold on, one more short sword.”

Gongsun Wol looked momentarily confused by my request, then quickly nodded at one of the alliance members.

“Huh? Ah.”

The alliance member brought another short wooden sword and stepped onto the duel platform. Dosu looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“Haomun Lord, do you use dual swords? That’s news to me.”

As I grabbed the short sword with my left hand, I answered,

“I’ve used dual swords since I was three. Didn’t your intel reach back that far? Pathetic intelligence network.”

In my memory, they were chopstick-sized dual swords, but that didn’t matter. Dosu looked disappointed.

“I advise you to treat this match with seriousness.”

Why the hell does this guy talk like that? He had a knack for turning simple words into convoluted statements.

“I’m always serious.”

“Please do not speak informally.”

“My apologies.”

Anyway, I gripped both swords and took my stance.

There’s really nothing special about the stance.

Left hand extended forward, right hand raised with the sword laid flat toward the front.

Left leg slightly forward, right leg bent just enough to form a perfect offensive-defensive balance. Bend too deep and you look like an idiot—no need for that.

Dual-Sword Guesthouse Style.

The stance was tiring to maintain, so I said to Dosu,

“Ready.”

Not formal speech, not informal. A linguistic middle ground.

Dosu scratched his chin, snorted, and swung his short sword. Naturally, I blocked it with my left sword and struck down fiercely with my right. As expected, the recoil in my wrist was solid.

But dual-sword technique isn’t complicated.

One for defense, one for offense.

That’s how efficient dual swords are in a duel like this.

If the Sword King or the Sword Demon had used dual swords, they would’ve chopped down each other's shoulders and then bashed each other’s skulls with the intact blade. That would’ve been a clean victory, not a draw.

That’s how terrifying dual swords are.

In theory, it’s an unbeatable style.

Of course, the only problem is that Jianghu doesn’t run on logic.

I widened my movements across the duel platform, swinging the dual swords. As I parried Dosu’s short sword, I stepped back, using my right sword to target his knees and mess with his footwork, sometimes thrusting the left sword to block his vision.

I made myself as annoying as possible to observe as many of his techniques as I could.

After a brief skirmish, essentially the opening clash, Dosu began to adjust to the short sword. His strikes became faster.

If he had just gotten reasonably faster, fine...

But he kept accelerating like he was breaking through his limits every moment. At this pace, even I was starting to get tangled up swinging dual swords.

Dosu’s swordplay was so nimble, I couldn’t help it.

He moved like a lunatic obsessed with quick strikes—you could bet he probably even ate fast.

Honestly, there’s something instinctively thrilling about this dual-sword style I use.

Once you start swinging them, you’ll understand.

There’s this weird kind of excitement that builds. Did I master dual swords using chopsticks? No. I was originally a man who cut grass with a sickle.

When you do nothing but cut grass for years, eventually you move to using dual sickles. And when you swing dual sickles long enough, you start to feel like you could cut down Mount Tai.

Of course, confidence alone won’t get you through life—that’s the trap.

Anyway, I learned the fundamentals of dual-swordplay through dual sickles.

Self-taught in dual swords—wouldn’t that make me a grandmaster in my own right?

Dosu’s swordplay was chaotic and troublesome, like watching grass blades flutter before my eyes, but it was obvious he’d never considered how to deal with dual swords.

That’s because masters of dual-sword technique are rare to begin with.

Thanks to that, I kept memorizing Dosu’s moves.

Meanwhile, I purposely wielded the dual swords like a madman, not giving him any chance to analyze my technique.

You could say I mixed meaningful forms into a chaotic flurry. When you master something, you can embed proper forms into erratic movements, or distort textbook forms mid-flow to create variation.

I’ve lived like a lunatic, so applying this comes naturally.

Sometimes you find yourself in a domain where things just work, even if no one ever taught you. In my case, I couldn’t cook for shit no matter how much I learned, but I was weirdly good at fighting without ever being taught.

Just fighting was a bit dull, so I started muttering nonsense like Jomsoi wiping tables after thirty years of work—pointless words like a chant while I fought.

Dosu spoke, clearly annoyed.

“Please shut up.”

“As you wish.” 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

Anyway, the dual-sword style I use is Dual-Sword Guesthouse Style’s Self-Indulgent Form—it’s as ruleless as the Plum Blossom Sword technique. When you do tough, repetitive work, self-indulgence is how you survive the daily grind.

I endure hellish days with the confidence of thinking, I’m awesome, or I can survive this. Repetition is hell. I do the work, but someone else gets the money. That’s hell.

So I materialized the chopstick-like life of Jomsoi from hell into swordplay.

That means most of my techniques are useless.

Swing the dual swords too fast and the elegance of the forms falls apart. But if it becomes so fast it looks insane, it actually starts to look impressive.

My life’s the same.

I’ve made it this far by charging into everything with a lunatic’s mindset.

Blocking all of Dosu’s quick strikes, ducking, spinning, crouching, and countering—I went at it hard. After thirty or forty seconds of intense exchanges, Dosu suddenly retreated and warned me.

“Lord, I thought you were playing around, but you’re quite skilled with dual swords. Be cautious.”

As soon as he said be cautious...

I enveloped my swords in icy internal energy—binggong—and finished my preparation. I reset my stance and looked straight at Dosu.

......

Forget the duel—what matters is winning. Honestly, because of the wooden swords’ material, using Flame Qi or the Hundred Battles Tenfold Technique is difficult, but Ice Qi works just fine. It hardens the wood even more.

But even with Ice Qi wrapped around my wooden swords, Dosu didn’t seem surprised.

Good. If he’d flinched at that, I’d have been disappointed.

Dosu too had condensed energy around his sword—the sword energy spiraled like threads around the blade.

It looked like heat haze rose along the edge.

Naturally, there were experts present who could recognize the level of technique Dosu had displayed.

“Huh, he’s using sword silk.”

Spewing energy to cut things isn’t the only high-level technique. There’s also the art of wrapping Qi around the blade to enhance sharpness—this was that. Dosu clearly intended to slice somewhere on my body.

So what’s stronger?

His short sword wrapped in sword silk?

Or my short sword hardened by Ice Qi?

I deflected his next strike, widening the distance.

I felt a chill of unease. As I retreated, I thought about it. His sword silk would probably shift into a more dangerous form depending on how he circulated his internal energy.

To be specific, I had this creepy feeling the threads could suddenly shoot straight like fine needles and pierce my face.

Where the hell did this monster suddenly come from?

Then again, the title Northern Five Tigers was for newly rising prodigies. Just like I’m counted among the Six Dragons. After enduring Dosu’s barrage, I slowly prepared a counterattack.

I gauged his speed, the power in his blade, his external strength, grip force, internal energy, footwork, sword technique, how much he blended textbook moves with unpredictable ones—even the shifts in his expression.

Dosu, take this counterattack.

I {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} launched a dual-sword offensive and incorporated Jeunjong footwork.

It was the only option if I wanted to instantly dodge his sword silk.

I mimicked the weird movements of the White-Robed Scholar from our duel—perfectly. Dosu, until now calm, began to show visible surprise.

Anyone could see it resembled that lunatic’s bizarre style.

Apparently, not just Dosu was surprised. The spectators started murmuring louder. I redirected their attention with something flashier.

I stomped with Jeunjong footwork to gain distance, then...

Brought both swords together, overlapped them in my right hand, crushed the wooden handles, and converted the Ice Qi into Hyunwol Internal Energy.

Crack!

The grip shattered and froze, and cold air formed densely at the joined wooden blades.

Does it look more like a club now?

Even though I combined the two, it wasn’t as thick as the Zen Staff I used in my past life. Just as Senior Shin Gae taught me—keep the body light, carry a heavy weapon.

So yeah, this was also a Dokgo Heavy Sword.

I moved with Jeunjong footwork and turned my entire aura into that of an aggressive older brother.

I bombarded Dosu with strikes as people’s faces flashed before me:

The Beggars’ Sect Leader, the White-Robed Scholar, the Sword Demon, the Sword King, Gwangseung... even Cha Seong-tae flashed through my mind, and I snapped back to focus.

Thwack!

Now with the wooden swords hardened by cold, each impact gave off a heavy thud, and Dosu began to stumble. If he had blocked properly, it would’ve been a fierce clash—but my total pressure, power, the two frozen wooden swords, and the weight of the Dokgo Heavy Sword—he couldn’t keep up. Each block rattled his form and gaze.

When he needed to plant a foot for balance, he stepped back several paces. That gave me an opening to wield the heavy sword even more freely. Each time he tried to retreat, trusting his footwork, I caught up instantly with Jeunjong footwork and smashed him with the weight.

Thump!

Dosu’s face twisted in confusion.

Did this bastard think I was some pushover? Or was he just that confident?

Even if we compared intellect, I had the edge.

Even in battle experience, I had more.

Even in killing experience—I had far more.

If we counted my past life, I had more defeats too.

Was this soft-handed scholar’s disciple betting it all on speed and looking down on me?

That so-called speed of his is turtle-paced in my eyes.

Dosu was strong, but I found a way to overwhelm everything about him—and I kept pressing.

Now the sounds of our weapons clashing started sounding like pleasing percussion music.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Smack!

Almost like I was beating on a turtle shell.

As I kept hammering down with a murderous rhythm... I started to get a sense.

A big counterattack was coming soon.

As expected.

At one point, when I slammed down on Dosu’s short sword, he spun smoothly, deflecting my force—it looked like he used my momentum against me—and I instinctively leapt into the air.

The spot I had just occupied filled with bursting sword silk—spiraling now with rotation, forming a narrow slashing wave.

Already airborne, I tilted diagonally, and like Im Sobaek had once said by the fire, I aimed to cleave Dosu’s crown in a single decisive slash—One Slash, Two Halves.

Dosu hurriedly blocked with his left sword and staggered.

Whump!

In that instant, I used the left sword to activate the Heavenly Pearl Absorption Technique, pulling his staggering neck toward me. Grabbing his throat, an unintelligible noise escaped Dosu’s lips.

“Ghk!”

The Northern Five Tigers all shot to their feet.

“Haomun Lord!”

Still holding Dosu’s neck, I turned to Gongsun Wol.

“Military Strategist Gongsun, the outcome? Might want to announce it fast.”

Gongsun Wol replied in a flustered rush.

“Victory goes to the Lord of Haomun!”

Looking at Dosu’s now-reddened face, I grinned.

“...So it seems.”

As I released his throat with a shove, he fell on his ass. If I held back too much, I might get countered. And if I killed him in return, that would ruin the spirit of the duel.

Dosu, sitting on the ground, finally exhaled deeply and caught his breath.

“Huff...”

A still silence settled around us.

Did I go too far?

With several members of the Northern Five Tigers still standing, I offered a calm apology.

“Dosu Gongja was strong, so the duel became intense. I apologize.”

Now I noticed a man, likely Dosu’s older brother Dengpyeong, glaring at me with killing intent.

Come on, I didn’t even kill the guy—why so angry?

Fortunately, Im Sobaek’s voice cut through the tension.

“...Dosu Gongja, are you alright?”

Dosu nodded.

“Yes.”

Im Sobaek addressed the Northern Five Tigers.

“The sword silk strike Dosu used in the final exchange was also too dangerous for a duel. Calm yourselves. This can happen in Biwu. Besides, Dosu wasn’t seriously hurt. All of you, sit down.”

As Im Sobaek’s words dropped like commands, the Northern Five Tigers all sat.

He then called to me.

“Haomun Lord.”

“Yes.”

When I looked up, he spoke in a stern tone.

“You went a bit far.”

“Yes. I got excited.”

Honestly, it’s a bit sad—when else would I get excited like this?

Im Sobaek stood and addressed the gathered fighters.

“Even the audience seems worked up. We’ll stop the duels here. Lords, juniors... let’s go eat. Clear the field. Anyone injured—ask the alliance members for treatment.”

I walked off the duel platform and stood before the Four Great Villains. They also rose quietly and looked up at me.

With my hands on my hips, I said to them,

“See that? If Mongrang had gone out there, he’d have gotten beaten like a village mutt. Right? What do you all think?”

The three of them turned without a word of congratulations and walked away like tight-knit brothers.

......

Even as he walked, the Lecher was eyeing nearby women. Anyway, it seemed no one really cared about my win. I suddenly locked eyes with Yi Gun-ak, standing alone.

He looked at me for a moment, then gave me a thumbs up.

“Well fought.”

I nodded toward my fool of a friend from a past life.

“Appreciate it.”