WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

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◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 28

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Unyielding will

He’d held it in for a long time. Done a damn good job of it, too.

The first test had come in that restaurant, the night of the auction, when Haryeong had first mentioned the Revered of the Martial Pinnacle.

‘The Moonlit Reveller, Chuk-sin-doo.’

Looking back, it was a miracle he hadn't choked on his food.

It was part luck, but mostly a conscious, iron-willed effort to keep his face a perfect mask of neutrality.

He knew the Revered were this world’s apex predators, NPCs of the highest order. He knew a familiar name might crop up, and any flicker of recognition would be a confession.

So he had locked his expression down from the start.

He’d heard the name ‘Chuk-sin-doo’ and not laughed. A critical success.

The second test came in Orca’s room, high in the Dersia Mage Tower.

He’d watched through a scrying spell as the man himself arrived at the city walls, kicked a metal sphere through the gate like a common football, and struck a ridiculous celebratory pose.

Then Orca had supplied the sphere’s name: ‘Madorido’.

Even then, he’d managed to swallow the laughter.

The conversation had been deadly serious, and he was already half-convinced Orca’s prospective disciple was another transmigrator.

The entire exchange felt like a trap, so his guard was already up. He’d watched the whole absurd spectacle unfold and kept his composure.

The third test was meeting the man face to face.

Listening to him boast about his name, talk about his ‘big bro’, and spout his brother’s supposed wisdom as if it were profound truth.

The greatest crisis, however, arrived when Chuk-sin-doo stripped off his outer robe to begin the duel.

That was a near thing. Who could have possibly predicted the custom-made uniform underneath?

After surviving so many close calls, he’d grown complacent, his defences lowered by a sliver. A bark of laughter almost escaped, but he bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood and forced it down.

He’d thought the danger had passed. He’d become acclimatised to the sheer idiocy of the man.

Surely, there was no greater depth of foolishness left to plumb.

He had been too focused.

The duel between Bakerd and Chuk-sin-doo was a masterclass. He was utterly engrossed, his own understanding of martial arts expanding with every exchange. He couldn’t afford to miss a single moment.

And then it came.

‘Secret Art of the Full Moon Killing Kick’.

‘Heavenly Downpour’.

The laugh was a mistake.

It was a tiny, choked thing, torn from his throat the moment Chuk-sin-doo roared the name of his technique.

For a single, horrifying instant, the sound hung in the air, a betrayal of the iron control he had maintained for so long.

He had survived Haryeong’s first mention of the name, survived watching the man’s absurd antics through Orca’s scrying, survived the custom-made football kit. But this final, idiotic flourish of a martial arts name, straight out of a second-rate webnovel, had broken him.

The sound should have been swallowed by the world-shattering roar of the attack itself. It should have been nothing.

But Yuri didn't rely on luck. Flanking him were Elena, a 4th-Circle mage, and Haryeong, a salsu whose senses were preternaturally sharp. He couldn’t risk it.

He didn’t dare turn his head. Looking would mean confessing.

His eyes remained locked on the duel.

The laugh was out; it could not be taken back. It had to be reframed. The conclusion came in a flash of cold, pragmatic panic. And without a moment's hesitation, he acted.

He deliberately twisted the flow of internal energy rising from his dantian.

It was a vicious, wrenching act of self-harm.

Agony ripped through him, and he forced a wet cough, a fine spray of crimson misting the air. The sound was a perfect match for the laugh.

He didn't stop there. He forced the energy upwards, feeling the burn as capillaries burst. Blood trickled from his nose and the corners of his eyes.

“Sir Yuri?!”

Haryeong’s voice was sharp with alarm.

She grabbed his arm to steady him. Elena, her face a mask of horror, seized his other.

He never looked at them. With dark blood carving paths down his face, he stared straight ahead, his eyes already shot with red.

“Fist Wolf…” he choked out, his voice a cracked and trembling ruin from the self-inflicted damage.

He clenched his fists, the blood streaming from his eyes like tears.

“Going this far…!”

Haryeong’s grip loosened, her expression melting from alarm into something like understanding.

She had seen him cheer for the Fist Wolf when no one else would. She had seen him train under the man for a month. This was a disciple watching his mentor be broken, shedding tears of blood in helpless fury.

The misunderstanding slotted perfectly into place.

Rumble!

Even as Yuri committed to his performance, the Heavenly Downpour raged on.

It was a secret art terrifyingly true to its name; a deluge of pure Ganggi rained from the sky, where Chuk-sin-doo hung like a malevolent star.

At the heart of the storm was the Madorido, the metal sphere kicked by Chuk-sin-doo himself, carrying the most devastating force.

Bakerd stood at the epicentre, catching it in his bare hands.

“Grk…!”

Blood sprayed from between his clenched teeth.

He tried to deflect it, to use the fluid motions of the Rending Cloud, but the power was on another plane. All he could do was hold on as the relentless rain of Ganggi hammered against his protective aura, cracking and then shattering it completely.

“Graaaah!”

With a final, desperate roar, Bakerd wrenched the Madorido aside. The sphere soared through the air, a creature with its own will, dancing through the storm.

Only now did Bakerd understand.

The Madorido was the moon. And Chuk-sin-doo's martial art was a game, a revel, played with that moon.

“…The Dang Family, who rule Salhomun, possess a supreme hidden weapon art,” Haryeong murmured, her voice low as she supported Yuri.

“They call it the Ten Thousand Flower Rain. It unleashes countless weapons in a single instant. A simple description for a technique of staggering complexity.”

“I have never seen this Heavenly Downpour before… it is different, but as a pure expression of Ganggi, its perfection is breathtaking.”

‘For the love of God, please stop,’ Yuri thought, the earnest critique threatening to send him into another fit.

He forced another wet cough, spitting more blood onto the ground.

“A-are you alright?” Elena’s fingertips trembled against his arm.

“Sir Yuri, if it is too painful, you do not have to watch.”

“No… I’m fine,” Yuri stammered.

“It will be over soon, anyway.”

He could see it. Bakerd was failing.

His Ganggi shield was gone, worn away to nothing. Every graze from the downpour opened a new wound on his body.

Only Chuk-sin-doo’s restraint was keeping him from being torn to shreds.

‘Just a little longer.’

He felt consciousness begin to fray at the edges, but Bakerd clung to it.

The thought of the time limit, of surviving for one minute, had vanished from his mind. That had been impossible from the start.

He was only still alive because his opponent allowed it.

Knowing this, Bakerd did not fall. He did not give up.

He had no intention of winning by enduring. He was here to learn. To steal some fragment of enlightenment from this supreme martial art.

The wall of the 7th Circle had loomed before him for years, impassable.

He knew countless masters, men more talented than him, with better techniques and finer lineages, had broken themselves against that same wall.

But Bakerd had a duty.

He had a venom and a desperation that he believed surpassed them all. He had to avenge his family. He had to find the three fiends who had massacred the House of Raspion twenty years ago.

They would be 7th-Circle masters by now. Perhaps one of the Revered, or one of the Seven Evils of the Demonic Cult. Or perhaps recluses, unknown to the world.

To find them, to have his revenge, he could not remain as he was.

That poison had fuelled him for two decades.

Defeat was a certainty. He had to gain something, anything, from this loss.

[If you don’t despair, if you watch and resist to the very end… you might just gain something. Then you can fall with a smile on your face.]

He was grateful for the Moonlit Reveller’s consideration.

They called him a madman, despised him for being a transmigrator. But to Bakerd, he was a true martial artist.

‘Just… a little… more.’

His hands moved subconsciously, blending the Diamond-Shattering Fist with the Fist of the Rending Cloud.

Pushed beyond his limits, he was instinctively unleashing the new art he had obsessed over. Weight and softness coexisted in his slowly extending fists.

But he couldn’t sustain it. His training was incomplete. His focus shattered.

“Ah…”

He saw the full moon, shining within the downpour, right before him.

It didn’t slam into him this time.

It went nova.

Fwoooosh!

All the drifting Ganggi was woven into its light, an indefensible, all-consuming attack. Yet Bakerd was satisfied.

He laughed, a raw sound torn from his chest, and spread his arms wide to receive it.

Sssshhh…

The light gathered, burst, and then scattered into glittering motes.

Amidst the fluttering fragments, Bakerd stood motionless, the light gone from his eyes.

“Five minutes… have passed.”

Namgung Ju-won, who had been stunned into silence by the display, finally found his voice.

He looked from Chuk-sin-doo, who stood calmly with his hands behind his back, to the unmoving Bakerd.

“The result of the duel is…”

“He hasn’t fallen,” Chuk-sin-doo said with a smile.

“Hahaha! I can’t say it’s his victory, but I can’t call it mine either.”

At that moment, Bakerd’s body swayed.

Yuri moved.

He had already played the part of the devoted disciple; remaining still now would shatter the illusion.

Besides, it wasn’t entirely an act. The Fist Wolf’s unyielding will had left a genuine impression on him. He simply… wanted to do this.

He shook off Haryeong and Elena’s support.

The internal injury made every step agony, but he reached Bakerd just as he began to topple, catching him, wrapping his arms around the big man’s waist to keep him from hitting the ground.

“Hoh.”

Chuk-sin-doo’s eyes gleamed, taking in the blood smeared across Yuri’s face.

“You said he wasn’t your master, but something similar. Was it painful to watch?”

Yuri considered his answer for a moment, then nodded.

“It was painful. But I also felt proud.”

“Proud? Why?”

“Sir Bakerd did not give up against you, Lord Moonlit Reveller. He kept his word. He remained standing until the end.”

Yuri just couldn’t bring himself to say the name Chuk-sin-doo out loud.

“Indeed. The Fist Wolf is a great martial artist. Taking on my Madorido with his bare fists… most wouldn’t even dream of it.”

“I know you were holding back, my lord.”

“Hahaha! My boy, Yuri, was it? It’s true I was holding back, but how many men in this world do you think would dare face my Madorido with their bare fists?”

Chuk-sin-doo laughed and wagged a finger.

“Unless you are the Fist King himself, no one tries to meet the Madorido head-on. They dodge. But the Fist Wolf reached for it from the very beginning. That alone makes him one hell of a fighter.”

“…”

“That was more enjoyable than I thought. A worthwhile five minutes.”

With that, he turned to Namgung Ju-won.

“Let’s call it a draw. I rendered him incapable of fighting, but he did not fall. A draw! Hahaha! Extra time or a penalty shootout would be fun, but sometimes a draw is good too.”

His smiling eyes returned to Yuri.

“You watched our duel very intently. Did you see anything?”

“My level is too low. I doubt I was able to see it properly.”

“Humble, are we? Your rank is low and your technique is amateurish… but you have good eyes. You followed the movements.”

“You praise me too highly.”

“I don’t deal in false praise. In my experience, those with good eyes become good fighters. How long have you been training?”

“About a month.”

“A month? Hahahaha!”

Chuk-sin-doo’s laughter boomed.

“Following that duel with your eyes after only a month? Now that is surprising. You have talent. Be proud of it.”

“…”

“I don’t know how long I’ll remember your name, but I have a feeling I’ll be hearing it again someday. As long as you don’t get yourself killed somewhere.”

At those words, several heads turned towards Yuri.

The Azure Sky Sword Lord, Namgung Ju-won, watched him with a curious gaze, but there was no hostility in it.

It seemed he hadn’t heard about the incident with Namgung Jin.

“Thank you.”

Yuri bowed his head.

Chuk-sin-doo grinned, then shot into the air.

“I don’t normally do this, but there’s a big crowd and I’m in a good mood, so I’ll give you a show.”

“Hooooo—!”

He kicked off the air itself, roaring as he performed another ridiculous, celebratory pose, sending the crowd below into a frenzy.

The duel was over.

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