WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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Chapter 157: The Rear Waves of the Yangtze Push the Front Waves (31)

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"Haaah... Haaah..."

Won Huiseung's breathing was ragged.

His overheated qi-blood refused to settle. Heat haze swirled around him, and the bulging veins all over his body made him look like an evil ghost.

Corpses of Patrol Guards lay piled before him. There were more than ten at a glance, including a martial official.

He had broken through the ironclad military formation formed by the government troops and killed the martial official serving as the formation array's axis. It was an astonishing feat for a martial artist barely past twenty.

Yet Won Huiseung, who had accomplished such a feat, appeared to have reached his limit.

"Interesting. Very interesting."

The fallen Daoist spoke.

He was a man packed with small, hard muscles. His face was rough and drawn, his eyes hollow and bloodshot. Thick beads of sweat rolled down his face.

Lowering his long, heavy crescent blade to his side, he rummaged through his robes and pulled out a pouch full of medicinal herbs.

"Endure it. Enjoy the pain. That is the path to enlightenment."

Wooooong!

Mighty internal energy burst from the fallen Daoist's body.

Most of the Daoists seemed to possess internal energy around the second-rate level, but this one was different. His internal energy nearly reached late first-rate.

He raised blazing True Flame and gathered it into the pouch in his hand. The dried herbs within began to burn.

Sizzle!

They were dark arts.

Samadhi True Flame, which produced flames above one's palm, was an ultimate technique normally usable only by peak-realm martial artists.

Yet this fallen Daoist used the unusual properties of his internal energy and herbs specially blended to suit it, producing an effect similar to Samadhi True Flame.

Crackle! Crackle!

Smoke poured out, and the air quickly became acrid.

Strange internal energy mixed with the smoke.

"Hoooo..."

Won Huiseung inhaled it.

"Hup!"

He tightened his weakening grip on his sword.

Lowering his stance, he assumed the opening stance of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven.

'Strange.'

His body was exhausted beyond measure, yet his mind had become clearer instead.

His senses were sharper than ever.

How to hold a sword, how to observe an enemy, how to plant his feet and swing his sword.

Everything felt different from before.

He could clearly see how to deal with his opponent.

Each time he swung his sword, he grew stronger.

Enlightenment was close.

'Why am I not falling victim to dark arts?'

Others were struggling because of dark arts, yet he was growing more and more alert.

His whole body felt as though it were breaking apart, but his perspective as a martial artist continued to broaden.

Had he ever experienced a moment like this before?

Won Huiseung smiled.

'Good. I'll go all the way!'

Just because his body was tired.

Just because his qi-blood was boiling.

The focus he had now was far too precious to abandon because of pain and fear.

Stopping now would be laziness.

For a martial artist, it would be an unforgivable sin.

'Move! Move!'

Won Huiseung squeezed out his internal energy and expelled it through his Yongquan acupoint.

Crack!

Power surged in an instant, shattering the ground before launching him upward.

"Excellent!"

The fallen Daoist laughed loudly and raised his crescent blade.

The Patrol Guards who had hesitated and stepped back came forward again, leveling spears, shields, and hooks at Won Huiseung.

Won Huiseung tried to smash through them with the Heavenly Violence Star form of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven, but...

"Huh?"

Stagger.

He misplaced his footing.

His body, already beyond its limits, moved just a little less than Won Huiseung expected. His Eight Extraordinary Vessels, pushed to the brink of internal injury by his boiling qi-blood, could no longer keep the flow of true qi steady.

Neither body nor energy obeyed his will, so his foot landed somewhere other than where he expected.

Crack!

His ankle, knee, and waist twisted in an instant.

Won Huiseung's face flushed bright red.

Terrible pain shot down his spine.

But if he screamed here, even his inner cultivation method might be disrupted, putting him at risk of Cultivation Deviation.

"...!"

Won Huiseung bit his lip and maintained his breathing.

Drip. Drip.

Red blood fell from his torn lip.

Crash!

Won Huiseung's body struck the ground.

The martial force released by a martial artist was strength the human body could not endure.

Using footwork and a Movement Art was like riding a racing bike at full speed in the twenty-first century.

What happens if the wheel slips?

What happens if one misplaces a foot?

That was Won Huiseung now.

"Ghhh..."

He tried to force himself up, but his head spun and every part of him screamed, leaving him unable to rise.

"Can you not stand? Is that all the will you possess? Cultivation demands tireless vigor! You must endure even if you cannot sleep for an entire month! Will you collapse over something so minor?"

The Daoist muttered as though saddened.

"Now! Kill him!"

The Patrol Guards, bloodthirsty now, thrust out their spears and hooks.

Just as Won Huiseung, rolling in the dust, was about to be pierced...

Claaang!

A long black spear swept through them.

"Urgh!"

"Aaagh!"

The sudden strike carried immense internal energy.

The Patrol Guards dropped their spears in a clatter and fell backward. Blood streamed from their shattered hands.

"Hooo... That was close."

Jin Hyeogo stood before them, heat haze rising from his body.

"Se-senior..."

Won Huiseung tried to rise again, only to collapse.

Still, he turned himself over, pressed a hand to the ground, and said,

"I-I'll get up soon..."

"Stay down."

"No. No. This isn't the time to be lazy..."

"Shut up!"

Thud!

Jin Hyeogo stomped, and dust billowed up.

"Do you still not understand? You've fallen victim to dark arts!"

"What? What? No, I haven't. My mind is clearer than ever..."

"A person in their right mind does not rush in without even knowing the state of their own body!"

"Uh... That..."

Won Huiseung tried to argue.

Enlightenment was so close.

Everything was so clear.

Was it not laziness to stop in such a state?

Was this not the time to charge in even if it meant dying for enlightenment?

"The foundation of martial arts is knowing when to advance and when to retreat! Have dark arts made you forget even that?"

"Ah..."

Only then did Won Huiseung realize something was wrong with his state.

They were that kind of dark arts.

Dark arts that awakened the mind instead.

Dark arts that made a person feel guilty for stopping when they should stop.

At first, they even improved one's performance, only to make one overexert oneself and destroy oneself before long.

"I... fell victim to dark arts..."

Only then did Jin Hyeogo speak in a slightly gentler tone.

"Do you understand now?"

"...I almost died."

"Yes."

"..."

Won Huiseung lowered his head.

"I almost died in a place like this..."

Terrible self-loathing weighed heavily on his body and mind.

Blindness.

It was blindness again.

Even if dark arts had affected him, he had still charged about, consumed by a single thought without considering anything else.

That hurt even more.

'I was like that with Yeon Sowol too...'

Their first meeting. Their first match.

He remembered how he had fallen into blind obsession then as well, trying to use only the Heavenly Spirit Star form before suffering an embarrassing defeat.

'Even if I was under dark arts...'

The same mistake again.

Again. Again.

After all that time.

Won Huiseung could not lift his head.

Had he nearly died in such a stupid way?

He had not even seen the shadow of a dragon yet.

'Huiseung, Huiseung, just how...'

How pathetic could he be?

Jin Hyeogo glanced back at Won Huiseung.

Noticing that he had lost heart, Jin Hyeogo let out a sigh.

"Fool. You survived. That is enough."

"I..."

"It was your first time. You've seen dark arts now. It will be different next time. You will see the world more broadly and deeply as well. That is how you will grow stronger."

"..."

"Do not rush. You will become stronger in the end. Rest for today. You have fought well enough."

Won Huiseung bit his lip and lowered his head.

Jin Hyeogo looked at him with an odd expression.

'He will need time. It may take one year, or perhaps three. Still, once he fully digests today's experience, reaching the peak realm will not be impossible.'

That was what dark arts were.

If one could overcome them, they could become an opportunity to grow stronger still.

Jin Hyeogo glanced once more at Won Huiseung, then tightened his grip on the spear shaft and glared at the Daoist before him.

The Daoist was smiling.

He spoke as though delighted to see him.

"Heh heh... What will your cultivation be like, I wonder? Can you overcome laziness to the end?"

With his rough face and bloodshot eyes, the Daoist flexed his small, compact muscles. He held a burning herb pouch in each hand, his crescent blade tucked against his chest for the moment.

Jin Hyeogo's eyebrow twitched.

"So this is what it feels like..."

It was vicious.

If one fell into dark arts, the mind became alert but one could no longer care for one's body. If one resisted being drawn in, their energy rapidly faded, and dull, languid laziness seeped heavily through the body.

Still...

It was better to feel heavy and sluggish than to charge in without regard for anything.

'This won't be an easy fight.'

And this was not even the end.

They had to quickly settle matters here and help in the other fights. Only then could they save their precious juniors.

Jin Hyeogo opened his eyes wide and drew up his internal energy.

Then...

Whoosh!

Yeon Sowol suddenly emerged from the mist and targeted the Daoist.

"Hmph!"

But the Daoist seemed to have expected it. He thrust out his crescent blade, while the Patrol Guards behind him surged forward and blocked the way.

Acrid smoke hung thick in the air.

The Patrol Guards' shields and spears glinted.

Whoosh!

Yeon Sowol crushed the ground beneath his feet, killing the momentum of his charge as he took a step back.

Had he been under dark arts, he would have overextended himself trying to force his way through the Patrol Guards blocking him.

But he did not.

The Daoist shouted,

"Hah! You retreat with enlightenment before your eyes?"

"Enlightenment, my ass."

Wooooong!

Clear Mirror trembled.

A streak of sword qi cut through the acrid smoke.

Snip.

With the strange sensation of something being severed...

"Hm!"

Jin Hyeogo felt vitality return to his body, which had suddenly been growing languid.

His usual cool-headed yet battle-hungry spirit returned.

This was not the blind obsession of being intoxicated by dark arts.

He was as majestic as a tiger, yet as careful as a fox.

He knew what he needed to do.

Claaang!

His black spear left his hand and pierced across the battlefield, skewering the soldiers holding up shields from the side.

"Gah!"

"Kehh!"

The shield formation collapsed at once.

The Daoist turned pale at the black spear flying toward him after impaling the soldiers and swung his crescent blade.

In doing so, he missed it.

Yeon Sowol charging through the collapsed formation.

Stab!

"Ghk...!"

The Daoist's bloodshot eyes opened wide.

Cold sweat streamed down his rough cheeks.

Blood spread from the sword embedded in his chest.

"Rest now."

Yeon Sowol coldly pulled out his sword.

Thud.

The Daoist who had fallen to a demon collapsed onto the ground.

* * *

Yeon Sowol ran.

Ha Jeop was nauseated, unable to shake off the dark arts carried in the sound of bells. Yeon Sowol simply ran over and cut off the Daoist's head as the Daoist shook the bells.

Jin Geol and So Hye were crying until their eyes had swollen from the Daoist's scolding. Yeon Sowol mocked those words, ran over, and split the Daoist's head down the middle.

'Flat.'

Throughout it all, Yeon Sowol was using the power of the Heaven-Killing Star.

His head felt as though it would split apart, and a thin nosebleed dripped from his nose again, but he did not stop.

That was why he could overcome dark arts.

Clear Mirror allowed him to protect his mind, but that was not all.

'Flat.'

To Yeon Sowol, the world itself looked flat.

He had watched the world tear apart, passed through it, and fallen into another world. Even the vast principles of the cosmos looked flat to him.

Dark arts were the same.

To Yeon Sowol, to whom even the cosmos looked flat, something like the Demonic Path, which tried to explain the universe with a single logic, looked even flatter and more pitiful.

It might have worked if he did not know what it was.

But with Clear Mirror keeping his mind sound, there was no way he would fall for such a shallow deception.

"Aaaah!"

The Daoists tried to flee from Yeon Sowol.

They unleashed the secret arts of the Demonic Path and all manner of dark arts that they had honed throughout their lives, but...

'Flat.'

They were far too thin.

They tore apart beneath Yeon Sowol's grip and at his sword tip.

The grotesque Daoists were slaughtered one by one.

The martial artists floundering under dark arts returned to normal.

The Patrol Guards began to collapse.

Yang Hoeam sat atop a four-man palanquin, watching it all unfold.

"What in the world..."

Every Daoist he had worked with until now was dead.

All but one.

The Patrol Guards who had supported his authority were also being defeated.

It was only a matter of time before everything completely fell apart.

"Th-that... We cannot handle that. That... Elder! We must call the Elder!"

The last remaining Daoist, who usually remained out of sight and communicated only by voice, babbled in terror.

Yang Hoeam had watched the Daoist for years, but this was the first time he had ever seen the Daoist so frightened.

Daaang!

Daang!

The last Daoist hurried over, picked up a large hammer, and struck a bronze bell.

The booming sound spread over Dongting Lake, shaking even the mist.

Then...

Daaang!

Daang!

Dooong!

Kuuung!

Bells answered from every corner of Dongting Lake.

Every island in Dongting Lake, including Junshan Island, had a shrine, and every shrine had a bronze bell. The personnel at all those shrines had long since been co-opted or replaced by forces of the Demonic Path.

Countless bells rang.

Ripples spread throughout Dongting Lake.

Daaang!

Kweeeeng!

Yang Hoeam quietly listened to the bells, then reached into his robes and drew out a small bottle.

It held a thick red liquid.

"I had intended to drink this with the ritual..."

It could not be helped.

He had to survive first if he wished to plan for what came next.

Gulp.

He swallowed it in one go.

His vision broadened as though new eyes had sprouted, and every sound became vivid, as though his ears had suddenly opened wide.

His entire body burned hot.

Enduring the heat, he looked forward.

His eyes met those of a young martial artist who had already reached him.

Quiet black eyes.

White robes fluttering through the mist.

Yeon Sowol.

Yang Hoeam asked him without realizing it.

Just who...

"Who are you?"

Crack!

The ground caved in beneath Yeon Sowol's feet.

"Gah!"

The instant Yang Hoeam sensed it, he threw himself out of the four-man palanquin.

Riiip!

The four-man palanquin where Yang Hoeam had been sitting moments ago split in two.

Boom!

Yeon Sowol's foot crushed the ground again.

His target was Yang Hoeam.

Martial force shot straight toward him.

Sword qi gathered at the blade's tip.

"Hyaah!"

Yang Hoeam moved like a beast and avoided it again.

"You...?"

Yeon Sowol's eyes shook.

It was agility impossible to believe from an official over seventy who had never learned martial arts.

Massive internal energy, fierce and endlessly swelling, suddenly erupted from an old man who had never cultivated internal energy in his life.

The moment their gazes met, Yang Hoeam's pupils burned orange.

They split open vertically, long and narrow.

Footnotes:

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