Book 7 Chapter 10

Mo Yonghui's Oath

"You lost!"

When Gyeomdo and Byulyeon were moonlighting and plotting,

Mo Yonghui was lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

I was savoring the bitterness in my heart.

"I lost."

His focus was dazed and unfocused. His consciousness was now wandering in a reverie. He hadn't realized the impact of his first defeat would be so great.

He knew in the back of his mind that there was no such thing as undefeated, but when he faced it, it was hard to bear. All sorts of troubles, worries, and self-doubt plagued him.

"Why did we lose?"

Mo Yonghui asked himself.

He had never received such a heavy, creepy, terrifying dao as he did today. The horror of knowing that the slightest lapse of guard could cost him his life. For the first time in a long time, Mo Yonghui could feel the terror of a life-or-death moment.

"Do you mean to tell me that there is still fear of the sword and death in my heart?"

The void did not seem to have the kindness to answer his question. Mo Yonghui was forced to search for the answer in the depths of his own mind. By his own strength.

Everyone was calling it a draw, but Mo Yonghui was realizing his defeat. On the surface, the match ended in a draw. But Mo Yonghui knew better. Even when he had been pushed to the point where he couldn't even swing his sword, the other monster had eight arms. At that point, he couldn't afford to move anymore. His opponent, on the other hand, had the strength of a running chariot. If he hadn't gone mad, his sword could have killed him.

Minutes.

Mo Yonghui bit down on his lip. The foul smell of blood irritated the tip of his nose. It was both a punishment to himself and a ritual to strengthen his will. He couldn't back down like this. He couldn't sit back and let the name of the Sword Castle be tainted.

He wasn't one of those Yew people who despair endlessly, like a tower collapsing after a single defeat. He had ingrained in his bones the idea that only a fool would be discouraged by a single defeat. Failure was a normal part of life, a part of being sick, a part of being a soldier. He was too young to be discouraged by a single failure.

He was in his twenties, a time when there was nothing left of him but a never-ending sense of challenge, bloodthirsty motivation, and unbridled ambition.

"I won't lose next time!"

He swore on the sword in his heart. I will win, for the honor of my name and my family!

He was a genius who could leap over any obstacle he encountered; he was a true genius.

"I won't lose again!"

Healing wounds and restoring health was a top priority in order to face the enemy once again.

Mo Yonghui slowly raised his qi and began to practice I Ching.

Luckily, his veins were intact and he was able to communicate with her. However, it will take some time for the trauma to heal. It was unreasonable to hope for a quick fix.

The next day!

Grrrr!

The lesson began with a man falling to the ground.