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◈ The Heaven-Slaying Sword ◈

Chapter 14: Chapter Two - First Foray into the Jianghu, and the Demoness (8)

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An instant stretched into eternity.

That was the only way Mok Ri-won could describe it.

The moment he felt his sword tear through human skin, the muscle beneath it, and then bone, his metabolism accelerated beyond its normal limits, creating that strange sensation.

Mok Ri-won's tightly narrowed pupils fixed on the blood blooming in the air.

Then came a reaction.

Thump.

His heart beat.

Only then did the tip of his sword begin to tremble.

His breath quickened, and a current raced along his spine.

"Restrain your urge to kill."

'Restrain.'

These were sensations he had to restrain.

Sensations he had to turn away from, crush down, and deny.

And yet, they were sweet.

"Urgh...!"

Pyo San's suppressed groan filled Mok Ri-won with pleasure.

His thoughts raced ahead, imagining what came next.

He had just severed the wrist holding Pyo San's short saber.

The weapon that clattered to the ground had been Pyo San's last weapon. He would no longer be able to resist.

If Mok Ri-won cut his ankle, drove him to the ground, stabbed through the middle of his calf, then sliced upward toward the thigh, Pyo San would be unable to flee as well.

He would be too busy screaming in pain and writhing on the ground.

What next?

Ah. He could pierce behind the elbow and tear it open, then sever the arm at the shoulder while Pyo San was thrashing about.

The arm below the elbow would already be gone, but Pyo San would still feel its burning phantom pain and let out another pitiful scream.

His thoughts expanded without end.

Countless ways to inflict pain on his opponent surfaced and vanished.

It had all happened in an instant.

Every one of those thoughts had formed before the blood pouring from the severed wrist could even reach the ground.

Drip. Drip.

The sound of blood striking the floor rang in Mok Ri-won's ears.

Only then did he regain his senses.

"Ah..."

His breath caught in his throat.

In that brief moment, he had realized what kind of urge he felt when looking at a helpless person. A sickening dismay rose within him.

'...Restrain it.'

He repeated the words to himself and clenched his teeth.

He steadied his trembling sword and glared at Pyo San.

Pyo San glared back through clenched teeth.

Despair had not yet appeared in his eyes.

'I am a martial artist.'

As a righteous hero, what he should do before an enemy was not indulge in fantasies of pleasure, but fight a proper duel.

Holding that ideal in his mind, Mok Ri-won thrust out his sword.

It was the final sword form meant to incapacitate Pyo San.

Yet as he tried to cool his overheated mind, his focus slipped. There was clearly an opening in the form.

Pyo San sensed it.

He wrapped dark blue qi around his remaining hand and struck the flat of Mok Ri-won's sword.

Clang!

The deafening clash echoed throughout the space, naturally leaving Mok Ri-won at a disadvantage.

His sword was knocked high into the air.

It could not be helped.

Even setting Mok Ri-won's martial talent aside, there was still a vast difference between the internal energy of Mok Ri-won, who had only just entered the Peak Realm, and Pyo San, who stood at its very edge.

It was the first opening Mok Ri-won had shown since the tide of battle turned.

Pyo San spun and lashed out with his foot.

'Waist.'

Mok Ri-won sensed it and swept out his hand.

His fingers snapped around Pyo San's flying ankle.

This, too, was something his talent had done instinctively.

A counterattack that seized the opponent in his grasp.

He had used the principles of the Seizing Hand.

Mok Ri-won twisted his wrist and bent Pyo San's ankle.

The force pushed it beyond the range its joint could bear.

Crunch.

Pyo San's ankle was crushed.

"Arghhh!"

His final struggle ended there.

Pyo San fell face-down onto the floor, screaming from the sudden pain.

The burning pain in his ankle blanked his mind.

Even so, one question remained.

'How?!'

How could this be possible?

How could every attack he launched be read?

It was absurd.

That man was only a green youth standing at adulthood's threshold, while Pyo San was a master who had weathered countless storms in the martial world.

The one rolling on the floor and screaming should have been that man.

"Urgh...!"

The man simply looked down at him with a face twisted like that of a murderous fiend.

"It's over!"

Mok Ri-won shouted.

Pyo San stared at him with bloodshot eyes.

The sight of him picking up his sword as streams of ink-colored qi flowed from his body.

The sight of him looking down after overcoming his disadvantage in internal energy.

The sight of a victorious man.

'Talent...!'

It was the naked truth of this cruelly unfair martial world.

Humans were such self-serving creatures.

The moment his defeat became certain, what rose in Pyo San was neither guilt for failing his orders nor the shame of a martial artist.

It was rage at that reality.

Creak.

Pyo San ground his teeth so hard that blood seeped from his gums as he glared at Mok Ri-won.

Mok Ri-won let out a breath as the strange urge that had only now begun to settle faded away.

Silence descended over the space.

Then another voice broke it.

"Young Hero...?"

It was Hwa Seo's voice.

* * *

It was an unbelievable sight.

It was also one Hwa Seo had never imagined she would see in her life.

'Pyo San...'

Had lost.

A fragment of shadow that had always led her into the abyss with gloomy eyes, a shadow she had believed would never fall, was now rolling miserably across the floor.

A man stood before him.

His breathing had yet to calm.

Blood ran from wounds across his body.

Ink-colored waves of qi surrounded him.

Only then did Hwa Seo understand where his confidence came from.

'...The Peak Realm.'

A Peak Realm martial artist.

The sight was so unbelievable that it hardly felt real, yet there he stood, showing her that he had already reached a realm beyond ordinary men.

"...Miss."

Hwa Seo's shoulders gave a small tremble.

Her blank gaze turned toward Mok Ri-won.

"What did I tell you?"

The sharpness lingering in his face from the battle eased as soon as Hwa Seo met his eyes, slowly changing into his usual smile.

"I told you I didn't think I'd lose."

It was a bright, lovely smile.

Something surged up from deep within Hwa Seo.

"A Sword Hero does not lose to a wicked enemy. That is a line spoken by the Sword Hero in the first chapter of Tales of Martial Heroes."

He was proving with his entire body that his words had been right.

His words stirred Hwa Seo deeply.

"Nothing will trouble you now, Miss."

Her throat tightened.

When she heard his words, remembered the worries that had consumed her after he left, and thought of the moment she had decided to come here, she felt ashamed of herself for having wished only for a desperate struggle rather than victory. He was so dignified.

"...It seems that way."

Hwa Seo forced a smile.

Mok Ri-won's waves of qi subsided.

She stepped forward, approaching both Mok Ri-won and Pyo San.

Pyo San glared at Hwa Seo with a face twisted in fury.

"Miss. This won't end like..."

"Young Hero."

"Mm?"

"Could you take care of my people and the remaining members of the Illyun Society? I have something to say to this man."

Hwa Seo cut Pyo San off.

Mok Ri-won nodded.

It was not simply because she had asked. Her face held too much for him to think he should interrupt.

Mok Ri-won walked away.

Hwa Seo looked down at Pyo San's broken body and murmured, "So you are human after all. Seeing you sprawled there so disgracefully."

Hollowness and resentment rested on Hwa Seo's face.

* * *

There were memories painful enough to hurt just by recalling them.

"My child, you will become the head of the next generation."

There were moments that ached just to revisit.

"This grandfather of yours will make it happen. I will make you the greatest under heaven."

Hwa Seo hated enclosed spaces.

She hated dark rooms where her sight depended on a few candles.

She hated the foul stench that made it hard to breathe.

Perhaps that was why she had chosen to become a pavilion proprietor.

A pavilion proprietor always looked down over the whole city from the highest floor, with nothing to block the sunlight. The air was always thick with powder and alcohol until it numbed the nose.

That must have been why she chose such work.

"My child, do you know? We lost far too much in that bloody affair. We became heroes who defeated the Blood Demon and saved the martial world, but we had to lose so much just to gain that one bit of fame."

"Grandfather..."

"The martial world is heartless. It is fickle as well. We have earned such great renown, but if we lack the strength to protect it, we could crumble at any time."

"It hurts so much..."

"So you must raise us up again. You must prove that we have not yet fallen."

Hwa Seo knew that look.

A look of obsession, or madness.

"...You must prove that this Sichuan Tang Clan is an iron fortress that will never fall."

Hwa Seo knew how ugly the delusions of an old, sick man could become.

* * *

Hwa Seo knelt and reached out.

She placed her hand on Pyo San's chest as he lay there breathing raggedly.

"Is the Clan Head well?"

"How can you even ask that?"

"Even so, he is still family."

"You have no shame...!"

Pyo San's eyes gleamed.

Hwa Seo met his gaze directly, her lips parting.

There was something she had wanted to ask for a long time. She had wondered how she should say it.

No suitable words came to mind.

What finally left her lips was resentment.

"Do you not pity me?"

"Pity you? How could you possibly be pitiful? How can you complain after receiving such privilege?"

It was resentment that would never reach him.

Hwa Seo smiled bitterly.

Even so, Pyo San continued.

"You know it too, Miss. The Grand Method you received is something countless martial artists in the martial world could never even dream of!"

"I did not want it."

"You should still be grateful! Because of it, you..."

"I lost my childhood."

"You lost that, but gained Immunity to Ten Thousand Poisons!"

Pyo San screamed.

The words he spat out as if in a final struggle, his breath threatening to give out, drove deep into Hwa Seo's heart.

Still, Pyo San's reaction was only natural.

Talent.

And circumstances.

As a martial artist, Hwa Seo had it all. As Dang Hwa-seo, heir to the Sichuan Tang Clan, she had it all.

She had the chance to learn the finest martial arts from the finest masters. She could consume all manner of spiritual medicines whenever she wished. She could reach levels others only dreamed of as naturally as breathing.

Yet she was still making such complaints. How could that not frustrate him?

"Immunity to Ten Thousand Poisons! Not just anything, but Immunity to Ten Thousand Poisons! It is a peerless Grand Method that lets you contain every poison of the Tang Clan, no! Every poison that exists in this martial world, within your body! How can you fail to be grateful to the Clan Head who granted it to you?!"

"I have said it again and again. I did not want it."

"No! You must want it!"

"Must I be grateful to the person who made poison flow through my body instead of blood?"

"Yes! Of course you must!"

Hwa Seo could find nothing more to say.

Had she been running for too long?

Only then did she remember what she had forgotten.

'...Right. It was that kind of place.'

The Sichuan Tang Clan was heartless.

It was heartless even to blood relatives.

They had always wanted only results.

"What a pathetic clan."

"What?"

"Is it not? Its family doctrine says kindness must be repaid twofold and grudges tenfold. Yet what it does is practice inhuman Grand Methods no different from those of the unorthodox factions. If that is not pathetic, what is?"

Open fury rose to Pyo San's face.

This dull martial artist, who knew nothing but loyalty, could not deny his clan. Hwa Seo did not try to persuade him further.

She simply acted.

Ssssss.

A dark green glow swirled over the back of Hwa Seo's hand.

She stood at the very edge of the First-Rate Realm and had begun to grasp the nature of qi waves. It was a feat she could now display.

"Did you call it a blessing? Did you say I should be grateful?"

"W-what are you..."

"Then experience it. Experience the pain I live with every moment."

Dark green waves of qi seeped into Pyo San's chest.

At that moment.

"Urgh...!"

Pyo San's eyes opened wide enough to tear as he groaned.

"Urk...!"

What spread from his chest through his veins was unmistakably poisonous qi.

The burning, throbbing, stinging pain tore apart every thought in his mind.

He could not even writhe in agony.

The instant the poisonous qi spread, his entire body became paralyzed.

"You will not die. It is not that kind of poison. The poisonous qi should fade by tomorrow, so endure it until then."

Hwa Seo spoke with a cold, still gaze.

She withdrew her hand, rose to her feet, and looked into the distance.

Once she sharpened her qi senses, she could hear the screams of black-path fighters.

Mok Ri-won and the others had to be clearing out the Illyun Society.

"That foolish man said something."

"Urgh, ngh...!"

"Those who have committed no crime do not need to run. The ones who should be punished are the wicked. So there is no need to run."

She did not expect an answer from Pyo San.

Hwa Seo had nowhere else to release her tangled feelings, and she wanted to strengthen the resolve she had spoken aloud.

"Tell the Clan Head that."

With the same elegant expression she had always worn, Hwa Seo smiled softly.

"This Dang Hwa-seo will no longer hide from you."

She had feared him all her life.

She had run from him as well.

Yet nothing had changed, and she was still trapped in the mire.

So she no longer wanted to run.

Even if others called it chasing empty romantic ideals, even if they said she was merely dreaming of ideals, Hwa Seo had found a reason to want those ideals.

"If true chivalry exists, then the one who should be punished is the Clan Head."

It might be foolish romanticism.

It might be chivalry.

That was why it suited her.

After long, long years, Hwa Seo was ready to face the nightmare that had tormented her.

Footnotes:

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