WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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Chapter 114: When Young, I Knew Not Sorrow's Taste (19)

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Whoosh-

Flames surged from the bronze brazier.

Yeon Sowol stood alone on the martial arts platform, his shadow fluttering in every direction.

He lifted his head.

Countless faces flickered amid the red shadows. High cheekbones, shining eyes, open mouths.

He could feel it.

The minds of all these people were focused on this very place, this very moment.

It was an overwhelming sight.

The sort rarely seen in this tedious, shabby world.

'This is fun.'

This time, Yeon Sowol had created this scene himself.

From beginning to end.

Together with his friends.

Whoosh-

The air felt unusually dense today.

The blazing fire devoured the night air, giving off a warm scent of smoke. Even the stale smell of sweat drifting through the packed crowd was swallowed by it, making it not all that unpleasant.

Yeon Sowol looked down at the martial artists beneath the platform, then at the thirty-six people standing above.

He read the confidence and excitement in their eyes.

His own heart began to tremble with excitement.

'Every one of them is a master who has forged a distinct martial path of their own in the Jianghu.'

In truth, Yeon Sowol stood before a threshold.

His current realm was Faint Fragrance Unfading.

His qi had filled the Eight Extraordinary Vessels, giving off a subtle fragrance and never falling into darkness. He stood at the very edge of what was called late first-rate.

One more step, and he would enter another realm.

Hundred Flowers in Wild Profusion.

A realm where the essence within the Eight Extraordinary Vessels had nearly melted away, the qi had been simmered down, and its unique harmonies bloomed endlessly like a riot of flowers.

It was the peak realm.

Yeon Sowol could advance to the peak realm whenever he wished.

Right this instant, if he set his mind to it.

'But I have to hold back.'

He was delaying that single step.

'Whether you can become a transcendent peak realm master depends on what realization you gain in the peak realm.'

He had not forgotten what So Hye told him.

'I'll enter the peak realm after I go to Wudang and seek instruction.'

He knew his own weakness well.

After falling into this land, he had fortunately met Yi Yubaek and built a proper foundation in martial arts. Yet Yi Yubaek's teachings had only been detailed up to late first-rate. Beyond that, they had been vague.

It could not be helped. Even Yi Yubaek, his adoptive father, had never reached the peak realm.

The path of martial arts was perilous, full of traps at every turn. Fortunately, Mount Wudang was said to be crawling with peak realm masters, and Yeon Sowol intended to seek proper instruction there.

Still...

'That doesn't mean I can just sit around doing nothing.'

Yeon Sowol's realizations belonged to Yeon Sowol alone.

Someone could light the way here and there, but choosing a direction and walking it himself was his responsibility.

'Until then, I need to organize my own realizations. Which means this...'

His eyes shone as he took in the formidable martial artists who had entered the Yuezhou martial arts tournament.

That was why this tournament was...

'An incredible opportunity.'

They said a hundred martial artists walked a hundred different paths.

Yet the realization Yeon Sowol pursued was all creation, everything that existed and everything that did not...

In other words, the cosmos.

Every one of them was no different from a secret manual that could deepen his realization.

"Hoo..."

Yeon Sowol slowly let out a breath.

Murmurs rose from the martial artists below.

Those who possessed martial arts refined enough to reach late first-rate, yet had not been selected among the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits. They were the ones voicing their complaints.

"Who dared make such selections?"

"Hmm. Was it that Yeon brat? How amusing."

"What? Hero Ho? Why is Hero Ho down here?"

"Ha ha. What can I do? Perhaps that brat thinks I'm lacking by a step."

"This is ridiculous..."

"What? Hero Ho? Hero Ho is here...? Hah! This truly makes no sense."

"How dare some punk judge his seniors so carelessly?"

Yeon Sowol had expected that reaction.

Not all Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits were equal.

Anyone could recognize the greatness of those occupying the front ranks, but the closer one got to the bottom, the less clear-cut things became.

Naturally, dissatisfaction was bound to erupt.

Still...

'It'll be troublesome if they start doubting the host's authority.'

Flap!

Yeon Sowol flicked his sleeve and placed his left hand on his sword hilt.

He took in everyone, especially the seniors simmering with discontent, one by one, then spoke calmly.

"Of course, I too am an unknown nobody competing for the Seventy-Two Earthly Fiends in this tournament. So..."

His gaze stopped on one man.

The man who had just called him that Yeon brat.

Lake Sword Ho Gwangil.

He was fifty this year, a master who had reached late first-rate twenty-three years ago and had long enjoyed great renown in Yuezhou.

Knowing that well, Yeon Sowol met his eyes directly.

"You are welcome to teach this ignorant Yeon brat a lesson anytime."

The moment he finished speaking, Yeon Sowol looked away and shouted loudly enough for his voice to echo through the entire basin.

"Then from this moment on, the Yuezhou martial arts tournament begins! I am Yeon Sowol of Shinheung County! I am the leader of the Guangdong Martial Alliance and the son of Windflow Sword Yi Yubaek! Anyone who wishes to defeat me, come onto the platform!"

* * *

Tap.

Ho Gwangil stepped onto the platform.

It was a clean, polished lightness skill, as though he had ridden the wind into the air.

He smiled with easy good nature.

"I am Ho Gwangil of Dongting Lake. Shall we begin right away?"

Yeon Sowol answered, "I've long heard of your reputation, Senior. They say there isn't a master in this part of Yuezhou who hasn't learned at least a little martial arts from you."

Ho Gwangil gave a hollow laugh.

"And what use is that when I'm not even recognized as a master by a junior so far beneath me in years?"

He quietly studied Yeon Sowol's expression.

Yet Yeon Sowol's face did not waver in the slightest.

No awkwardness. No apology.

He simply looked at Ho Gwangil with clear eyes.

For some reason, Ho Gwangil grew uncomfortable and turned away.

Up there stood the masters of the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits before the blazing bronze brazier.

"Ha ha. I see quite a few fellows who learned from me."

Several among the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits had stood there calmly, but when their eyes met Ho Gwangil's, they looked embarrassed and did not know what to do with themselves.

Ho Gwangil turned back to Yeon Sowol.

His eyes, reflected in the red firelight, seemed to ripple.

"I reached late first-rate at twenty-seven. I wasn't as quick as the rising young talents of famous great sects, but I was still fairly quick around here. Back then, I was considered quite the prodigy myself."

Shing-

He drew his sword.

He did not point it at Yeon Sowol. He simply held it upright and examined it quietly.

"I liked Dongting Lake. Its ripples most of all. At a glance, it seems still as a silver platter, but look closer and it makes countless shapes beyond counting, colliding and blending together. At sunrise and sunset, even the sky seems to burn, and a field of light spreads out before you, bright enough to blind."

Ho Gwangil's gaze settled on Yeon Sowol.

"I wanted my sword to be the same. I called it Lake Eye. The eye of a lake is its ripples. My swordsmanship became the Lake-Eye Sword, and I sought to reach the peak realm by attaining qi like the eye of Dongting Lake. And twenty-three years have passed."

Ho Gwangil smiled lightly.

"I'm still wandering."

But then he added, "That doesn't mean I'm weak."

The complicated emotion rippling in his eyes had vanished.

In its place stood the solid presence of a martial artist.

"Let's begin."

"I'll gladly learn from you."

* * *

The spectators said, "One of them is definitely going to be humiliated."

If Yeon Sowol lost, it would mean someone with no real skill had dared to evaluate a great senior of the Jianghu.

If Ho Gwangil lost, he would become a washed-up old man of the Jianghu, defeated even by a junior far younger than himself.

"This is driving me mad. I can't breathe."

"Why are my palms getting so sweaty?"

"Will the junior who doesn't know his place become a laughingstock, or will a legend of the past be branded a complete has-been?"

"Isn't he already washed up? He said he hasn't improved in twenty-three years."

"That's true, but he's got experience."

"Is it the genius of youth or the experience of middle age?"

From the spectators' perspective, it could not have been more entertaining.

The people of the Jianghu felt entirely differently.

"They talk so carelessly..."

"How dare they speak of Senior Ho Gwangil like that..."

"Damn it. This is why I didn't want to enter some stupid martial arts tournament..."

Their insides boiled.

The harsh years spent training in martial arts.

The countless agonies.

The courage and fear from moments when they had risked their lives.

All of it passed vividly through their minds, making the chatter of people who knew nothing painful to hear.

Excitement and resentment filled the venue with noise.

People spat words without restraint, while others panted through their noses and chewed their rage into tiny pieces before spitting it out.

Amid that chaos, where countless sounds tangled and echoed against their eardrums...

Yeon Sowol's and Ho Gwangil's swords finally clashed for the first time.

Yeon Sowol moved first.

Whoosh!

His stage of maturity surged in an instant, tempering every part of his body. His body became so clear and light it seemed it might ring like steel, swaying with the wind.

Sway-

Willow Leaf Steps.

Footwork named after trembling willow leaves.

Slow yet fast, seeming about to fall yet never falling. Its unpredictable movements sought out Ho Gwangil's openings.

But then...

Wooooong!

The tip of Ho Gwangil's sword trembled.

Sword qi gathered as a faint glow along the blade, which shook rapidly as it kept Yeon Sowol in check.

It resembled the tiny ripples of Dongting Lake glittering under sunlight.

The movement was light and quick, innocent enough to resemble a child's game...

'What the hell?'

Yeon Sowol was startled.

Wooooong!

Ho Gwangil's sword hummed.

Sword qi scattered in all directions with every minute motion.

Light, yet carrying a chilling edge.

Every tiny vibration carried martial force.

Clangclangclangclang!

Yeon Sowol's sword tangled with Ho Gwangil's.

Yeon Sowol's tall frame and long arms bent flexibly like willow branches. Clear Mirror, held at the end of those arms, fluttered like a willow leaf and snapped like a whip.

Yet Ho Gwangil's sword overwhelmed that unpredictable sword path instead.

It swept short and light, flipped over, bent, curled back, pulled away, then thrust forward.

As if it existed in a world of its own, it suppressed Yeon Sowol's sword and pressed in with countless intentions.

Each small movement carried martial force, and sword qi glimmered like a sunlit water surface.

Clangclangclangclang!

The blades collided and slipped past each other without pause.

Their first exchange became twenty, then thirty exchanges in an instant.

Martial force waves continuously burst between Yeon Sowol and Ho Gwangil.

Those small, rapid collisions piled upon one another and grew into an increasingly violent roar. Hairline cracks spread across the stone slabs of the platform, sand leapt into the air, and the wind howled.

The pressure of the spreading martial force waves shoved against the spectators' chests, making their clothes flap.

Their faces gradually turned pale.

Clang! Clang! Claaang!

Each time the blades collided, they blinked and hunched their shoulders. They leaned back as though something enormous were pressing down on them.

Still, they could not look away.

As though someone had gripped their cheeks and held their heads in place, no one could turn from the platform.

Claaaaang!

When Yeon Sowol's and Ho Gwangil's swords collided heavily once more, a fierce martial force wave swept over the venue.

"Ugh..."

"Urgh!"

"Kh..."

The spectators in the front rows staggered. Some even began bleeding from the nose.

The aura of masters who had reached the end of first-rate was difficult for ordinary people to endure.

It was not only physically heavy. It crushed the spirit as well.

Yet they could not look away.

Like people gazing up at a towering mountain, they watched with reverence.

'Amazing...'

At that moment, Yeon Sowol felt genuine admiration.

'Now I understand what Senior Ho meant. What kind of martial arts he was pursuing.'

At first, he had been puzzled.

Lake Eye?

Was it a sword that resembled Dongting Lake? Did he seek a sword imbued with water qi? That was all Yeon Sowol had thought.

But after experiencing it himself, he understood.

'This isn't water qi.'

No. It could be called water qi, perhaps, but it was completely different from the energy of water Yeon Sowol had known and imagined until now.

A sword that rippled endlessly.

A sword that bounced about as it pleased, yet remained connected throughout.

A sword that was infinitely calm.

A sword that could be transparent enough to reveal the bottom, then shine brightly enough to cover the whole world.

'Ah... It is truly deep.'

Water.

More specifically, a lake.

More specifically still, its surface.

Such endless harmony flowed from so tiny a concept.

What, then, would the absurdly vast harmony called the cosmos be like?

'The road ahead of me is truly long.'

He let out a sigh.

Even so, he had gained a new perspective on water and lakes.

Perhaps his own cosmos had grown just a little deeper.

A broad smile formed on Yeon Sowol's lips.

He was thrilled.

Clear Mirror rang.

To ring was to be hollow.

To be hollow, yet filled with a certain vibration.

Yeon Sowol's vibration was the cosmos.

A lake contained the sky.

The sky contained sunlight.

The sun contained the landscape of time and space.

All creation rose and faded within it, continuing without end.

Yeon Sowol's sword changed.

The ornate, fluid swordsmanship he had learned from Yi Yubaek, which had bent and swayed like a willow, instead became restrained.

Restrained, yet it held a vibration resembling all creation in the cosmos.

Whenever Ho Gwangil tried to cut, Yeon Sowol pressed down a step ahead.

When he tried to press down, Yeon Sowol shoved him away first.

When he tried to shove, Yeon Sowol thrust.

When he tried to thrust, Yeon Sowol struck his blade aside.

Ho Gwangil's sword lost its way. The sword that had seemed as steady as the calm surface of Dongting Lake now staggered as though caught in a typhoon.

Sword qi and martial force waves shattered and scattered, sparkling like stars in the sky.

'What is this...'

Ho Gwangil was horrified.

The sword he had honed his entire life seemed to have become subservient to Yeon Sowol, tumbling this way and that with the slightest gesture of his hand.

The more he struggled, the deeper he was dragged into an ever-greater harmony...

Clangclang! Clang! Clang!

The ceaseless martial force waves roared like the death cries of a giant beast.

At their end came one fierce final clash.

Kaaaaang!

Like a vast water surface cracking apart, a single shockwave shot through the sky.

"Ghk..."

Ho Gwangil was flung backward, spinning through the air like a top.

Round and round, like a kite with its string cut.

Skrrrch!

He barely landed, one arm hanging limply at his side.

His shoulder had been dislocated.

"Urgh..."

Ho Gwangil gripped his dislocated arm and shoved it back into place. Cold sweat streamed down his face from the terrible pain.

His palm had split open completely, and blood dripped down the sword hilt. The sheer strength of mind it took to keep hold of it was astonishing.

"..."

Ho Gwangil let out a low, long breath.

"I lost. Even my Hand Taiyin Lung Meridian has been injured."

Of the Twelve Regular Meridians, the Hand Taiyin Lung Meridian ran from the shoulder to the thumb. When excessive pressure damaged it, one's stage of maturity could not be fully brought out, disrupting the use of true qi.

He looked bitterly at his trembling hand, then asked, "So do I take my name plaque and leave now?"

Yeon Sowol shook his head.

"If you rest and can fight again, you may compete in another bout. Until you refuse an incoming challenge while standing on the platform, you may continue competing as many times as you wish. Your number of losses doesn't matter. We'll select the seventy-two based on victories."

"I see..."

Ho Gwangil clasped his trembling hands and saluted with a fist in his palm.

"I lost. Your eye for not placing me among the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits must have been right. I accept it. Everyone will laugh at me. Even so, I'll crawl up from the bottom again."

Yeon Sowol returned the salute, filled with sincere respect.

"Who would dare laugh at you, Senior? If your Lake-Eye Qi had been complete, I would have lost."

Completing one's own qi meant reaching the peak realm.

Ho Gwangil's sword remained incomplete.

He was still studying a sword that resembled Dongting Lake, just as Yeon Sowol was studying a sword that resembled the cosmos.

Ho Gwangil smiled.

"The same is true of you, is it not? I have no idea what kind of sword that was..."

He shook his head.

"I never want to cross blades with you again."

Ho Gwangil descended from the platform, cradling one arm.

He was the loser.

The back of a defeated man.

Yet it was not pitiful in the least.

Everyone held their breath before him.

Yeon Sowol lifted his head.

The red shadows of the blazing bronze brazier rolled across the basin.

The crowd's focused eyes and ears.

But the atmosphere had changed from before.

Only the loud crackling of burning embers filled the air.

Countless spectators kept their mouths shut and uneasily gauged the atmosphere. Their faces were pale, their hair disheveled, and all of them looked dazed, as if they had leaped down from a great height.

"This is... a martial artist..."

Only after a long silence did that strangled murmur echo out.

The pale spectators held back their words.

The martial artists' breaths through their noses grew increasingly rough with pride and the desire to win.

Footnotes:

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