WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Asakusa

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◈ A Wandering Warrior's Survival Guide ◈

Chapter 20: A Killing Ordeal (4)

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Gwak Do-mun's flexible sword stopped in midair. Yi Mu-gwang's startled breath caught as well.

‘...!’

Cheon Hwi was standing outside the inn.

He held a bloodied longsword, one he must have picked up somewhere. The blood on its hilt, perhaps its former owner's, had not yet dried.

Even as he let out an exhausted breath, Yi Mu-gwang stared at Cheon Hwi in no small surprise.

‘What happened overnight?’

The aura Cheon Hwi had given off before had been that of an ordinary third-rate martial artist.

After killing Gyu Pae, Cheon Hwi had clearly grown and begun to look like a martial artist. But that was all. To the eyes of seasoned wanderers like Yi Mu-gwang, he still possessed an unmistakable frailty.

But now, it was difficult to find that frailty in him.

Cheon Hwi, who had seemed certain to be defeated as easily as twisting a child's wrist, now looked like a proper martial artist at the beginning of the second-rate realm.

‘Could it be...?’

“I'd die if I took the Black-Shell Softshell Turtle Elixir, right?”

Then Yi Mu-gwang recalled what he had asked Gwak Do-mun during their fight.

“Didn't you die when you stole the Black-Shell Softshell Turtle Elixir?!”

“Heh. If only I had. The pharmacy bastards would still be alive.”

For some reason, Blood Serpent Sword's words overlapped with that memory.

‘But that's impossible. Cheon Hwi stole it? Absurd.’

Cheon Hwi had not mastered a movement technique, footwork, or even an Eye Art to distinguish objects in the dark. Even with a hundred lives, he would not have had enough to rob the pharmacy's Mechanism Formation.

Then what was this changed feeling?

It was entirely different from being soaked in the sweat and blood of training.

He looked clean, as though he had just washed, yet the moment he entered the inn, it felt as if the smell of blood had retreated a step.

Outwardly, he was calm.

“Hm...”

The raised corners of Blood Serpent Sword Gwak Do-mun's eyes lowered slightly.

It seemed that Gwak Do-mun, too, thought Cheon Hwi's cultivation was remarkable for his age. Blood Serpent Sword hesitated, reluctant to make things troublesome.

“The one who killed Gyu Pae wasn't just some wanderer after all.”

‘His handsome face, that pure aura... He looks like someone who underwent Marrow Cleansing.’

Marrow Cleansing. Even those connected to renowned martial clans or the Nine Sects and One Gang could not receive it easily.

In a martial clan, one had to be at least a young master from the clan head's direct bloodline.

Gwak Do-mun knew that provoking a clan consumed by revenge could create needless trouble.

‘Tsk...’

Blood Serpent Sword lowered his sword and scratched the back of his neck. He had never cared about avenging Gyu Pae in the first place. He had come more to vent his frustration before leaving Changchun, and to show what happened to those who opposed the Blood Serpent Gang.

Just as the other wanderers had taken Cheon Hwi, Gyu Pae's killer, for a rising junior from a renowned sect on a Chivalric outing, the Blood Serpent Gang Leader seemed to think so as well.

Yi Mu-gwang prayed that he would leave just like this, but that hope was shattered in an instant.

“Well. Does it matter?”

Gwak Do-mun seemed almost delighted at the prospect of tasting the blood of a rising junior from a prestigious sect after so long.

Even as Cheon Hwi came to stand beside Yi Mu-gwang, Gwak Do-mun simply smiled brightly, not stopping him in particular.

But as Cheon Hwi passed beside him, Gwak Do-mun sensed something strange.

Something that could not simply belong to a third-rate wanderer.

‘What is this?’

Gwak Do-mun's eyes narrowed.

A mere child who had not even reached the second-rate realm. Someone he had assumed Gyu Pae had only died to because Gyu Pae had let down his guard.

“Cheon Hwi...”

Yi Mu-gwang twisted his bloodied lips. His expression made it impossible to tell whether he was smiling or about to curse.

Cheon Hwi swept his gaze through the inn.

The corpses of Blood Serpent Gang members sprawled across the floor. Blood spattered over the tables and pillars. Yi Mu-gwang, seriously injured and bleeding.

Soon, Cheon Hwi spotted a sword resting at the edge of a table. Yi Mu-gwang's bamboo hat lay nearby.

Yi Mu-gwang must have moved them there. An old scabbard rested on the table. His father's sword was worse even than the swords of the dead wanderers scattered by the roadside.

Cheon Hwi casually tossed the longsword in his hand onto the floor.

Clang.

Then he picked up the old sword from the table.

Gwak Do-mun, who had been watching the dying Yi Mu-gwang and Cheon Hwi with his arms crossed, let out a scoff.

The boy had calmly walked past him, as though he were just another passerby.

No fear at all.

How could a fifteen-year-old young master newly arrived in the Martial World act like that?

“You crazy bastard. If you were going to come, you should've come back later... You foolish bastard.”

“Then why didn't you leave, Teacher? I see. You regretted never hearing me call you Master.”

“Heh heh, you dim-witted bastard... Then both you and I will just die in vain.”

“We won't know who dies until we try.”

Shing.

Cheon Hwi drew his father's sword.

The old blade faintly gleamed beneath the inn's red lanterns.

Yi Mu-gwang smiled as blood ran from his mouth.

His wounds were already deep. Even if he received treatment immediately, it might be difficult for him to continue living as a martial artist.

Only after fastening the sword at his waist did Cheon Hwi properly look at Gwak Do-mun.

A red robe. A long, slender flexible sword.

A man whose eyes smiled, while his mouth did not smile at all.

Yet the smile gradually vanished from Gwak Do-mun's face.

Inner qi filled Gwak Do-mun's drooping flexible sword, straightening it like a rigid blade.

“Have you said everything you wanted to before dying?”

As his fingers closed around the hilt, Cheon Hwi's breath settled for the briefest moment.

One Step, One Breath. Survey the scattered mind.

Two Steps, One Sinking. Settle the boiling killing intent.

Three Steps, Return to the Well. Return to where one must return, and stand with sword in hand.

The brief formula of the Well-Returning Moving Art expanded and grew within Cheon Hwi's mind, finding a meaning of its own.

What was a martial artist's inner cultivation method?

The essence of an inner-energy method bearing the character for heart was not merely rote memorization of a prescribed method for circulating inner energy.

That character contained heart, intent, will, and thought. Only afterward did it reach the meaning of the physical heart.

Cheon Hwi had not learned even one proper inner cultivation method, yet he was coming to understand what such a method truly was better than anyone.

Gwak Do-mun's eyes narrowed to slits.

Yi Mu-gwang gripped his Pudao again with his bloodied hand.

The air within the inn drew taut. Firelight flickered beyond the windows, and the smell of blood crept across the floor.

At its center, Cheon Hwi quietly took his first step.

‘...!’

Gwak Do-mun's pupils contracted slightly.

There was not even a preparatory movement as his foot pushed off the ground. In an instant, the boy who had been standing there rushed before him like a ghost.

For the span of a breath, the boy's form blurred before Gwak Do-mun's eyes. Then he had already entered within five feet.

Swoosh!

The old sword tore a long streak through the inn's lantern light as it shot toward Gwak Do-mun's Adam's apple.

It was an impressive swift-sword technique.

Until just before this, Cheon Hwi's swift-sword form had strongly felt as though the sword was dragging his body along. His body had not yet been developed enough to support the sword form.

Whenever he used the swift-sword form, his wrist and shoulder shot out first, while the rest of his body desperately followed. It had been fast, but light. Sharp, but shallow.

Now, however, his strengthened dantian and inner qi supported his body. Rather than being pulled about by the sword form, he could execute each movement precisely and seamlessly.

Gwak Do-mun's smile disappeared.

Clang!

The flexible sword curved through the air and coiled around Cheon Hwi's blade.

Gwak Do-mun had intended to brush it aside lightly. He thought a simple twist of his wrist would be enough to deal with the sword of a brat barely at the second-rate threshold.

But.

‘Heavy?’

The sword tip did not yield as he expected.

No, it seemed to be pushed back, only to return to its path.

The moment Cheon Hwi's sword was caught by Gwak Do-mun's flexible sword, he neither resisted nor retreated. It twisted half an inch along with the serpent-like sword momentum, then used that recoil to thrust beneath Gwak Do-mun's wrist.

Swish!

For the first time, Gwak Do-mun took half a step back.

“Oh?”

Cheon Hwi bit his lip in disappointment. He had seized the moment when his opponent was careless and struck decisively, yet that decisive strike had not even brushed the man's sleeve.

Cheon Hwi's headlong assault did not stop there.

Whoosh!

His sword aimed for Gwak Do-mun's right shoulder.

This time, Gwak Do-mun did not treat him lightly.

Shrrrk.

The flexible sword bent smoothly through the air.

It clearly seemed to rise in order to block Cheon Hwi's sword.

But in the next instant, it slid down the spine of Cheon Hwi's blade and bored toward the inside of his wrist.

‘Dangerous.’

Cheon Hwi instinctively twisted his wrist.

He tried to evade and withdraw his sword at the same time, but the sword that slithered along like a snake could not be read through an ordinary sword trajectory.

Swish... Slice!

A red line appeared across Cheon Hwi's forearm.

It was not shallow.

Flesh split, and blood sprayed.

‘Fast.’

The wound could have gone deeper and rendered his arm useless, but it seemed that Gwak Do-mun had deliberately held back.

‘Ghk!’

Cheon Hwi tried to retreat, but Gwak Do-mun did not let him go.

Under the inn's red lanterns, the flexible sword swayed like a dark crimson snake. When it seemed to thrust, it wrapped around him. When it seemed to wrap around him, it was already stabbing forward.

As though he were slowly wounding prey.

One shallow wound became two, then more. Gwak Do-mun was openly enjoying the sight of Cheon Hwi bleeding.

That perverse hobby must have been why Yi Mu-gwang had remained standing until now.

Cheon Hwi was grateful for that habit.

An opponent like this was better. If it were someone like Gyu Pae, who killed cleanly, he would gain only one instance of experience from each death. But with this man, he would gain at least dozens from a single death.

‘If I die and return a hundred times, then perhaps...’

Thwack! Slice! Slash! Shhk!

In less than a blink, shallow cuts appeared across his cheeks, beneath his eyes, on the bridge of his nose, his Adam's apple, and his fingers.

Every wound was in a vital spot, as though Gwak Do-mun wanted him to become afraid.

Yet Cheon Hwi watched the situation with delight.

Gwak Do-mun was so taken aback that he even pulled his sword back for a moment.

It was the first time he had met someone like this. Could the boy not feel fear?

“Your eyes are sharp. Your body keeps up well too. And it seems your inner qi has only just begun to bloom.”

His gaze turned cold. As though to confirm his own intuition, he abruptly stepped closer and pressed his palm to Cheon Hwi's lower dantian.

Thump.

As if he had struck with a palm art, Cheon Hwi's body was sent sliding backward.

“Ghk!”

Cheon Hwi coughed up blood.

It was not an attack that would inflict internal injury, but it was threatening nonetheless.

Gwak Do-mun could not imagine that it was the power of the Black-Shell Softshell Turtle Elixir. He merely shook his head in doubt.

Perhaps Cheon Hwi's sect had simply made him consume a cherished spiritual elixir before sending him on his Chivalric outing.

That thought made Gwak Do-mun feel even more thrilled.

When Cheon Hwi raised his sword, the flexible sword climbed over the blade.

When Cheon Hwi twisted his wrist, the flexible sword curved beneath it.

Clang! Clang! Crack!

Three clashes.

In that brief exchange, shallow wounds multiplied across Cheon Hwi's shoulder, side, and thigh.

Normally, he would have had to die around fifty times to gain this much experience.

Yet Cheon Hwi had not died even once.

The thought made him laugh.

“Heh heh heh...”

‘...He's laughing?’

By then, Gwak Do-mun was enjoying himself beyond measure. He thought breaking this madman would be the finest of all the prodigies he had shattered in the Martial World.

Rather than answer, Cheon Hwi raised his sword again.

Then.

Whoosh.

A heavy Pudao pressed in from the side.

It was Yi Mu-gwang.

Bleeding and staggering, he had somehow slipped to Gwak Do-mun's right and used the back of his Pudao to pin down the flexible sword's path.

Cheon Hwi's sword tip lowered again.

A low chuckle spilled from Gwak Do-mun's mouth.

Wasn't a spark of hope blooming in Yi Mu-gwang, who had given up hope of surviving?

Fools.

This was even more entertaining. Gwak Do-mun's body shuddered with excitement.

As though it sensed its master's elation, the flexible sword trembled like a rattlesnake's tail.

“Hwi.”

“Yes.”

Blood flowed between Yi Mu-gwang's lips.

“Don't watch the blade's tip. Watch his wrist. The blade changes direction according to the way his wrist turns.”

Brief advice.

It was likely an odd habit Yi Mu-gwang had learned at the price of his own blood.

“Tell me as much as you can. So I can use it in my next life, at least.”

Next life.

Yi Mu-gwang considered those words briefly, then adjusted his grip on the Pudao and smiled bitterly.

“Even if I have to die and return to life thousands of times, I'll save you, Master.”

“...Cut the nonsense.”

Those who knew when they had to die,

and thus knew how not to die.

We called them martial artists.

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