White-Robed Scholar turned to look at me while facing Seomun Martial Emperor. Right before the duel, I wondered what nonsense he was about to say—but what came out of White-Robed Scholar’s mouth was entirely unexpected. “I created a new martial art recently.” “I want you to give it a fitting name.” Does this arrogant bastard lack naming sense? Since getting the fight started was more important, I accepted right away. I couldn’t figure out what kind of thoughts this man lived with. He seemed both arrogant and obsessed with performance, and in front of the crowd, he looked utterly unhinged. Maybe this is the essence of an artist. Either way, showing off this kind of arrogance before facing a master like Seomun Martial Emperor was clearly madness. Even Seomun Martial Emperor sounded baffled. “You’re telling me you’re going to test out a newly invented martial art on me?” White-Robed Scholar looked at Seomun Martial Emperor and said, “A truly ridiculous no-name brat. Shall I begin the show, then?” “By all means. But...” White-Robed Scholar half-covered his face with his folding fan and declared, That was a proper provocation. Seomun Martial Emperor’s expression turned from baffled to furious in an instant. Forget formalities—both men charged at each other at the same time, and the duel began. Seomun Martial Emperor swung his hand, and White-Robed Scholar swung his fan. Compressed gales collided and burst outward, reshaping the surrounding air. Though it wasn’t a hot day, the qi wind heated the air. The man bold enough to tell Seomun Martial Emperor to “do your best” moved swiftly, fan in hand. Seomun Martial Emperor, seemingly riled up, prioritized offense over defense. It was quite a harmonious sight. White-Robed Scholar clearly excelled in lightness skill, while Seomun Martial Emperor used mostly palm techniques, moving with solid footing. The two were fast, which made the white fan stand out even more. That fan blocked Seomun Martial Emperor’s force, redirected his attacks, folded up to stab his body, and more. It was used like a brush, a shield, a judge’s writing brush, or even a blade. Soon, White-Robed Scholar moved freely as if the entire arena were his canvas, while Seomun Martial Emperor chased him with tireless tenacity. Even the pursuit had its own elegance. Despite being within striking distance, White-Robed Scholar dodged Seomun Martial Emperor’s attacks repeatedly, and the watching crowd fell silent in awe. It became clear that this nameless man’s martial arts were exceptional. To me, this duel began to look like a moving painting. As a spectator, I couldn’t discern the subtleties of each technique or hidden feint. I only saw the results of the intent behind each move. That’s why White-Robed Scholar, swinging his fan, started to look like a painter. And Seomun Martial Emperor, chasing him, looked like a man trying to catch a white butterfly in a painting. Both were fast—but the artistic beauty of the picture wasn’t quite complete. The fan resembled a brush because at times, White-Robed Scholar’s qi flowed from the tip of it. Gray butterflies, white butterflies, dark ash-colored butterflies fluttered through the air. On top of that, White-Robed Scholar used movement techniques based on the Jeun School’s style throughout. Even though he was being chased, he didn’t appear weak—on the contrary, the scene was mesmerizing. ‘They’re both incredible.’ I glanced around, wondering if anyone else was viewing this duel as a moving painting. But it didn’t seem likely. Which meant I might really be the only one qualified to name this martial art. At this point, I couldn’t even tell whether White-Robed Scholar was fighting or performing art. After all, this was the same guy who, during a battle with the Demonic Cult, had calmly laid out his desk and painted the chaos of the battlefield. Painting is a hobby. Fan dancing is a hobby. Sneaking into the Martial Alliance to spectate—leisure. Testing out a new technique on Seomun Martial Emperor—madness. All of it poured into his martial arts. He was definitely no ordinary man. So in that sense, it wasn’t strange that he asked me to name his martial art. In all of Jianghu, I’m likely the only one who understands this deranged bastard’s mental world to any degree. ‘There’s a reason they once called him the Demon Gentleman.’ In truth, the title of “Emperor (Je)” in Jianghu has a fairly defined standard. As Gui Demon once said, it’s beneath “Divine (Shin)” or “Sacred (Seong),” but still far above what normal martial artists can hope to attain. So this fight—ironically—was also a duel between the Martial Emperor and the Evil Emperor. It was bound to be intense. Of course, now that he’s publicly revealed himself, the old moniker of Evil Emperor likely won’t stick anymore. Though he didn’t show malice during the duel, White-Robed Scholar was definitely proving his kingly presence within the Martial Alliance. That’s when I realized: the fan dance unfolding in the blank arena was born from the Jeun School’s style. I’d thought White-Robed Scholar’s movements were odd, but it was due to that foundation. Jeun School, mixed with fan-dancing. The Jeun School is originally an ascendant movement technique that manipulates body weight to move swiftly and lightly. And White-Robed Scholar applied that principle to his fan as well. He lightened his body and redirected momentum with the fan. No matter how talented Seomun Martial Emperor was, predicting that would be impossible. With a single swing of his fan, White-Robed Scholar shortened the distance and struck at Seomun’s left side. Then, using the wind generated ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) by the fan, he dodged an incoming counterattack. Meanwhile, qi techniques burst intermittently from White-Robed Scholar’s left hand. A casual head movement from Seomun Martial Emperor, and large chunks of his hair were sliced away and fluttered in the air. The crowd’s murmurs rose, then slowly fell quiet. Yet Seomun Martial Emperor wasn’t someone to be easily taken down. He was already adapting to this never-before-seen martial art in real time. Not just me—everyone in Jianghu likely thought the same. Had any of them ever seen such a dazzling duel before? The reason people were so focused must have been the underlying hope that the white butterfly would eventually be caught by Seomun Martial Emperor. That might’ve been what the average observer saw. But for me, it was different. I knew White-Robed Scholar’s sly nature. And when we had fought, he’d caught me off-guard and pushed me back. His qi techniques back then had been white, gray, and deep ash in color. Right now, he might be dancing with a fan while asking me to name his technique—but the moment Seomun Martial Emperor’s attacks intensified, his real techniques would erupt. And when that happened—who would win? I couldn’t predict the outcome. But I knew one thing: ‘It’ll end in a qi clash.’ Right now, Seomun Martial Emperor was rushing straight into the maze White-Robed Scholar’s fan had drawn. The one chasing the arrogant butterfly was driven by fury. And when someone runs in anger through a twisted maze, they’re bound to slam into a wall they didn’t expect. If this, too, was all planned... then White-Robed Scholar clearly had the upper hand in psychological warfare. When Seomun finally escapes the maze— White-Robed Scholar would be waiting at the entrance with a “surprise gift” of three streams of qi. This was his scheme, a fan-dance enchantment, and a grand painting drawn with his fan as brush. He shamelessly asked me to name his technique. Unveiled his fan-dance with flair before Seomun Martial Emperor. And when Seomun struck in anger— He was even prepared to retaliate with overwhelming force. That bastard was a true genius, obsessed with art. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder—was the Seomun Martial Emperor I was watching right now at full power? His force seemed constrained once by the rules of the duel, and again by being trapped in White-Robed Scholar’s painting. Even if he tried to break free, he couldn’t go all-out—not in a white-path duel. Perhaps realizing something was wrong, Seomun Martial Emperor’s whole body became shrouded in currents of air. He was attempting to break out of the painting. White-Robed Scholar ran even faster. Just one step from the Jeun School’s technique was enough to cross half the arena. Even the Lecher admired it. I searched for someone who might be seeing what I saw—a comrade of perception—but found none. Still, I did catch a glimpse of Im Sobaek’s serious face as he silently observed. At that moment, Seomun Martial Emperor, still chasing White-Robed Scholar, opened his mouth. “How long do you plan to—” He was speaking? In the middle of this? In that instant, just as Seomun Martial Emperor opened his mouth, his sleeves crackled with thunder qi. It wasn’t the Ten Thousand Battle Palms—but as blue lightning arced across his fingers, White-Robed Scholar suddenly appeared, charging with Jeun School footwork. And with perfect form, he met Seomun’s hand in a head-on qi clash. I figured it wouldn’t be an ordinary clash. The moment they exchanged qi, both men staggered back like they’d been ripped from the canvas itself. Seomun Martial Emperor had used one of his top-tier techniques. And the cunning White-Robed Scholar had gone all-in, intent on ending the fight. Seomun glanced at his hand, then at White-Robed Scholar. The stillness was thick—no clear winner. But judging by their expressions, some kind of unspoken understanding had passed between them. Neither launched a follow-up attack. They were already replaying the battle in their heads. Then Seomun’s face went pale... before gradually reddening. It looked like two kinds of qi had infiltrated his body, and he was resisting with internal energy. Meanwhile, White-Robed Scholar stood calmly and smirked. “Martial Emperor, are you alright? You withstood my Mixed-Shatter Palm quite well.” Seomun Martial Emperor kept a composed face and asked, “A unique technique. The overlapping qi struck with a delay. Did you... actually wait for me to recover?” White-Robed Scholar nodded. “How many breaths did I allow you? Answer me.” Seomun exhaled a long sigh and replied bitterly, So Seomun Martial Emperor had managed two deep recovery breaths while White-Robed Scholar gave him the chance. Since this was a white-path duel, it was a subtle yet profound moment. If White-Robed Scholar hadn’t waited and had immediately pressed the attack, Seomun might’ve suffered internal injury—or even coughed blood. The depth of their qi clash backed that up. So whether or not he’d accept defeat now depended entirely on Seomun Martial Emperor’s attitude. Just then, White-Robed Scholar turned to me. “Munju, have you thought of a name for the technique?” I hadn’t expected this to come back around. But he was looking at me so seriously, I couldn’t dodge the question. “It’s... really difficult.” “I can’t recall a name, but I do have an impression of the duel.” I gathered my thoughts and recited the impression aloud. A painter in white robes danced with a fan. The blood-soaked fan became a brush. Yet though he displayed such skill, not a drop stained his white. In hiding, he is the White-Robed Painter. In the open, the White-Robed Martial Emperor. Even the butterfly from the canvas seemed to dance in life. Though Seomun’s Martial Emperor gave chase in haste— This Martial Emperor in white remained ethereal. When I finished my poetic nonsense, White-Robed Scholar simply stared at me. I couldn’t read a single thought from his expression. But with the entire arena now hushed, he said to me in all sincerity, Was it comforting somehow? He thanked me out of nowhere. I cupped my fist in salute to him, regardless of the result. Then I drove the final nail, as he was now clearly someone of great importance in Jianghu. “Whether you become a painter who paints in blood—or a martial emperor in white who remains unstained—Jianghu now knows your brilliance.” I locked eyes with White-Robed Scholar and spoke from the heart. And though it seemed like that would be the end... I didn’t forget the dignified Seomun Martial Emperor who had preserved his grace. I also gave him a respectful salute. “Senior Seomun, seeing you calmly face an unprecedented martial art... this junior has learned much.” Living long enough, I’ve become a sycophant. Trying to soothe and flatter full-grown adults—what am I even doing? Yet seeing Seomun Martial Emperor stroking his beard with a pleased expression... I couldn’t help but feel conflicted. After all, I’m known in Jianghu as that arrogant madman, and very few have ever received my praise. Maybe that bastard really liked being complimented by the guy who said something about cutting off balls. His face was positively glowing after the duel.