WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Chen
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◈ The Martial Genius who Remembers Everything ◈
Chapter 405: The Reason for the Struggle (5)
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Hyeonyeong of the Wudang Sect
A disciple of the Hyeon generation and Yong Soa's peer, he was strangely not a graduate of the Martial Arts Academy.
The Nine Sects One Gang, Five Great Clans, and sects of the One Hundred Eight Peaks sent their disciples to take the Martial World Regular Examination whenever they found even the slightest talent, hoping to place them in higher positions within the Martial Alliance. Given that, it was only natural that Hyeonyeong was considered untalented even within the Wudang Sect.
Like every Wudang disciple of the Hyeon generation, Hyeonyeong had been nothing more than another shadow hidden by Yong Soa's brilliance.
No one in the martial world knew him. He had neither attended the Martial Arts Academy nor served in the Martial Alliance.
Ironically, the man who had never once stepped into the light began making a name for himself while living in seclusion within the Wudang Sect.
It was during the middle of the Orthodox-Demonic War.
More than half the sects of the One Hundred Eight Peaks had been wiped out, and the Demonic Cult had begun turning its attention toward the Nine Sects One Gang and the Five Great Clans.
The Demonic Cult's finest unit, the Heavenly Demon Black Sword Unit, split into two forces and headed for the Shaolin Sect and Wudang Sect.
Perhaps they had grown confident after so many White Path sects had crumbled beneath their blades.
The Martial Alliance's forces had also concentrated south of Hubei Province to stop the Demonic Cult forces advancing from Jiangnan, leaving each sect's headquarters and home mountain nearly empty.
Yet Ilgak and the One Hundred Eight Arhats, who had been staying at the Shaolin Sect, stopped the Heavenly Demon Black Sword Unit and proved why Shaolin was called one of the pillars of the martial world. They immediately set out to support Wudang.
At the time, most of Wudang's main force, including Yong Soa, had been stationed in Hunan.
It was a dire situation. The nearly empty Wudang Sect could have been trampled beneath the Demonic Cult's feet.
But when the Shaolin disciples arrived in haste, they could not believe the sight that greeted them at Wudang's Sword-Discarding Pool.
The Seven Heroes of Wudang and Hyeonyeong.
Just eight people had turned the entire Heavenly Demon Black Sword Unit into lost souls.
From that day on, the martial world gave Hyeonyeong, whose existence no one had even known of, its most honorable epithet.
Hyeonyeong, the Wudang Martial Guardian.
He had not remained hidden from the world because he lacked talent.
He had remained hidden because he had too much of it.
Wudang did not need two geniuses when it already had Yong Soa.
Yong Soa, who had to soar to the ends of heaven, would receive Wudang's full fortune and rise high in the world. Hyeonyeong would protect Wudang.
That was Wudang's century-long plan.
‘Fuck. Why is their guardian spirit showing up here of all places?’
Unlike Yong Soa, Hyeonyeong's ordinary appearance and common martial uniform gave me hope that he might not be the Hyeonyeong I knew. Still, I quickly pulled myself together.
‘No matter how capable the Seven Heroes of Wudang were, they couldn't have faced the Heavenly Demon Black Sword Unit. Hyeonyeong's strength was the only reason they could stop them!’
The spot around my chest where I had been struck earlier still throbbed.
If I hadn't been wearing the Heavenly Silkworm Treasure Robe my father had given me, would my chest still be intact?
“Young Hero Jin.”
His gaze shifted to Dam Ak on my back before returning to me.
“Why are you risking your life over something so pointless?”
Pointless... Why did every Wudang bastard insist on judging what had value and drawing conclusions on their own?
I quickly circulated my internal energy to treat my injuries.
The throbbing pain gradually faded.
“What exactly is pointless?”
“What benefit do you gain by saving him?”
Amusingly, Hyeonyeong played along even though he knew I was stalling for time.
Was he that confident?
“Because of this, the White Path martial world will call you a traitor. You have turned the Nine Sects One Gang against you, and the label of Black Path martial artist, which you hated so much, will now become the truth and follow you forever.”
He probably thought that no matter how much time he gave me, I was still a rat trapped in a jar.
But there was something he did not know.
I possessed the recovery of the Ten-Thousand-Year Earth Bear.
As I circulated my internal energy, the pain from my injuries gradually vanished.
My ragged breathing had almost returned to normal too.
“You think I move for my own benefit?”
“If that isn't the case, why risk your precious life for Dam Ak?”
Why? Why?
“Because I don't want war, you war-crazed bastard.”
Hyeonyeong seemed briefly taken aback by my answer.
Then he continued with that porcelain-like expression unique to Wudang bastards.
“Sometimes people must shed blood for what is right. I too am prepared to shed blood at any time.”
Look at this fucking bastard.
“All martial artists of the White Path think the same way. They will gladly give their lives for the righteous path and chivalry whenever necessary. Who among those who carry a sword is not prepared for that much?”
Both the Sichuan Bloodbath in my previous life and the Orthodox-Demonic War had erupted through logic like that.
Yes, it was always the same.
Every sacrifice and every ruin began with a noble cause.
It was laughable. Those hypocrites spoke of sacrifice without even knowing what the nobility they so easily invoked truly was.
“Do you know that war is built on the sacrifice of the weakest people?”
“...”
Of course he didn't.
He had probably never lived the life of the weak.
“And most of those sacrifices are forced on them by people like you.”
“The righteous path neither demands nor restrains sacrifice.”
“Really? Then what can you sacrifice?”
He answered without the slightest hesitation.
“Everything.”
Would that really be true? When you faced a situation where you truly had to make a sacrifice, could you accept even that?
“I'll kill Dam Ak right now.”
“You've made the right choi...”
“Then I'll head straight to the Black Alliance and kill the Black Alliance Lord too.”
“...”
“In exchange, you kill Daoist Cheongsu, your master.”
Hyeonyeong's impassive eyes widened.
“If you make that sacrifice, you can protect the righteous path as you wish. What do you say?”
“...That is unreasonable. Why should I kill my master?”
Now we're finally talking.
I gripped my sword as I looked at his ridiculous expression.
“That is the sacrifice of the weak, you fucking idiot.”
Then I unleashed the sword form I had prepared.
Three White Moon Heaven-Subduing Forms
First Form
Extreme Swiftness
Swoosh!
I cut toward Hyeonyeong's waist in a single stroke.
His body split cleanly in two.
But...
‘I didn't feel anything!’
No blood flowed from the severed body. Instead, it faded away.
From behind the separated figure, Hyeonyeong came in with a slashing strike.
Swoosh!
I met him with the Lesser Heaven Sword Art.
Clang clang clang clang clang!
More than ten exchanges passed in an instant. When we stepped apart again, his severed sleeve fell to the ground.
“How does it feel? Filled with the resentment of the weak...”
Slash!
At the same time, the tie at the front of my robe was sliced clean through.
‘When... did he?’
As I stood there dumbfounded, I heard his voice.
“Remarkable. You've already recovered completely. I truly can't let my guard down.”
What was this? Why was this bastard not only strong, but humble too?
That only made him harder to deal with!
“The resentment of the weak... I've heard enough of your sophistry. It seems your journey must end here as well.”
“You think I'll just accept that bullshit?”
“We'll see.”
Hyeonyeong drew his sword close, ran his index and ring fingers along the blade, then raised it before him.
Thirteen Taiji Stances, one of Wudang's higher sword arts.
A translucent current formed the shape of Taiji before him.
I clenched my teeth.
#
The wind blew.
Not a wind whose beginning and destination were unknown.
This wind had a clear beginning, and its direction was just as clear.
It was not one of nature's wondrous phenomena.
It was a miracle created by man.
Soft, supple, and slow.
Yet there was not a single opening in his movements.
Thirteen Taiji Stances.
A sword art made up of only thirteen stances, yet incomprehensibly profound, unfolded before me.
From the hand of the man called Yong Soa's shadow.
‘What kind of shadow is that? He's at the level of a founding patriarch from any decent sect.’
It was said that simply entering the art took ten years. I could hardly believe that a man who had achieved full mastery of Thirteen Taiji Stances before turning thirty had been used as nothing more than Wudang's shadow.
Were all the old Wudang leaders idiots?
‘No. It means Wudang's foundation runs that deep.’
A sect that had flourished for centuries had roots just as deep.
Either way, I had no time to hesitate.
No matter how solid the wall or how tall the tree, I had to break through it now.
Graaaargh!
A horrible scream of unknown origin rang from the Scarlet Radiance Sword.
I knew all too well that I couldn't break through without the resolve to kill my opponent.
I unleashed the Lesser Heaven Sword Art, pouring every bit of experience I had accumulated over nearly a hundred years, including my previous life, into it.
Swoooosh!
Lesser Heaven Sword Art
Breaking Form
I drove through the shortest path with the greatest force.
But then...
‘What...?’
The Lesser Heaven Sword Art, which should have pierced straight through his flesh, slowed as though it had plunged into thick mud before it could even touch his sword.
‘He can control the current of air to this extent?’
Had he noticed my surprise?
Before I could unleash the next form, he slipped through the gap.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
He was clearly moving slowly, yet four sword forms extended from his hand.
Clang clang clang!
I nullified his sword forms and immediately unleashed the Twin Heavens Sword Art.
A sword dance bloomed, and countless sword forms surrounded him.
Whoosh!
Slow overcame fast.
Few pushed back many.
Softness repelled strength.
Ting ting ting ting ting ting ting ting ting!
Yet dozens, even hundreds of sword forms were blocked by his slow, supple movements.
It was the very essence of Thirteen Taiji Stances.
It was already astonishing that he had entered and trained in the art, but he was plainly showing that he had achieved full mastery of Thirteen Taiji Stances.
‘Fine. Let's do this!’
Reeds that could not be swept away by a storm were eventually cut down easily by a small sickle.
Swoosh!
Sharper.
Stronger.
Faster.
I pressed toward him with all of it.
More than ten sword forms, each carrying solid sword force, surged toward him.
They were direct sword forms, with no illusion sword or changing sword forms mixed in.
Hum!
The currents within the space he controlled briefly seized my sword force, but they were soon overwhelmed by its power.
Crunch. Crunch.
As he faced my sword force, his body was pushed back bit by bit, his feet scraping across the ground.
“...Softness Overcomes Hardness, my ass!”
Hyeonyeong's face turned bright red as well.
I seized the strength he used to push me away and kept pressing in, relentlessly driving deeper and deeper.
Just as I was about to finish him, he unleashed the Two Modes Fist Art with his other hand.
Boom boom boom boom boom!
“Urgh...”
A numbing wave of force struck my entire body. Taking advantage of the brief opening, he diverted the path of my sword force with his blade.
The smallest change in route still wounded him, but he ignored it and swung his sword again and again, as though he would not miss his chance to counterattack.
Clang clang clang clang!
His sword forms were not as sharp as I expected. As I evaded them with ease, a realization suddenly struck me.
‘You cunning bastard!’
His target was not me, but Dam Ak.
The sharpest and most precise sword shot toward Dam Ak's vital point.
I instinctively thrust out my arm.
Stab!
“Young Master Jin!”
Hyeonyeong and Dam Ak could not hide their shock as Hyeonyeong's sword buried deeply into my left forearm.
The instant Hyeonyeong realized he had missed a good opportunity, he withdrew his sword and prepared to unleash Thirteen Taiji Stances again.
I used the finishing move I had saved until the very end.
Clang!
“What is this...?”
Confusion crossed Hyeonyeong's face.
I broke his Thirteen Taiji Stances by using the Shattering Form of Taiji Fist.
It had been an incomprehensible domain from the beginning.
They were practically different martial arts.
But Thirteen Taiji Stances was ultimately a martial art that began from Taiji Fist.
I had endured patiently until now to catch the single opening that appeared between his forms.
“What do you think it is? It's the sound of your skull cracking!”
Even that monster Yong Soa had been flustered at first, so this was probably a natural response.
Slash!
A long sword wound carved across his body, beginning at his right waist and crossing to his left shoulder.
Spurt!
As Hyeonyeong spat blood, the Void-Destroying Fist struck his dantian and middle dantian.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
Just as I was about to bring my sword down on his head.
Hum!
His sword formed the Taiji shape again and blocked the Scarlet Radiance Sword.
The Wudang Martial Guardian truly was the Wudang Martial Guardian.
Pheew!
At that moment, a signal flare rose in the distance.
Wasting any more time would only favor them.
I looked down at Hyeonyeong and whispered quietly.
“You're lucky. I wanted to show you what real sacrifice is.”
Leaving Hyeonyeong behind with a hollow, defeated look in his eyes, I kicked off the ground.
We had reached Eunhyeon.
Just a little farther... Just a little farther, and I could stop the war.
“Y-Young Master Jin...”
Dam Ak's anxious voice trembled behind me.
Was he shocked by my wound?
“We're almost there. Don't worry.”
I tried to reassure him.
“That's not it...”
His anxiety did not fade.
Why would someone who treated his own life as a tool be this afraid?
The moment I turned to see what had triggered Dam Ak's fear.
Rustle...
Hyeonyeong's fallen body began to rise from the ground as though it were suspended by strings.
“That crazy bastard...”
His hair, tightly bound in a warrior's headband, shot into the air, and his martial uniform swelled in every direction as though it were about to burst.
His pupils had rolled back as if he had lost his mind, leaving only the whites of his eyes.
He had touched his innate qi.[1]
[1] Innate qi: a martial artist's fundamental life force. Drawing on it can greatly increase power at severe personal cost.
Footnotes:
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