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Chapter 405. The Reason for the Struggle (5)
Hyeon-yeong of the Wudang Sect.
A disciple of the "Hyeon" generation, placing him in the same generational rank as Yong So-ah—yet strangely, he was not a graduate of the Murim Academy.
Considering that the Nine Sects and One Gang, the Five Great Clans, and the sects of the One Hundred Eight Peaks would enter their disciples in the Murim Regular Exam the moment even the faintest glimmer of talent was detected—all to place them higher within the Murim Alliance—it was only natural that he'd been regarded within the Wudang Sect as someone devoid of talent.
As was the fate of all Wudang "Hyeon"-generation disciples, Hyeon-yeong had been just another shadow eclipsed by the brilliance of Yong So-ah.
He had no record of activity in the Murim Academy, let alone the Murim Alliance. Not a single person in the murim knew of him.
Ѐǹŭ m a
Paradoxically, the man who had never once set foot in the light began to make his name known while secluded within the Wudang Sect.
It was during the middle phase of the Great Righteous-Demonic War. By the time over half of the One Hundred Eight Peaks' sects had been annihilated and the Demonic Cult's arrows began turning toward the Nine Sects and One Gang and the Five Great Clans, the Heavenly Demon Black Sword Unit split its forces in two and sent them toward Shaolin and Wudang respectively.
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Their confidence was perhaps understandable, given how many Orthodox Path sects had already crumbled meekly beneath their blades. Furthermore, with Murim Alliance forces concentrated south of Hubei to block the Demonic Cult's advance from Jiangnan, the home bases and main mountains of each sect were left virtually empty.
But Il-gak and the One Hundred Eight Arhats, who had been residing within Shaolin at the time, held off the Heavenly Demon Black Sword Unit and proved why Shaolin bore the title of the murim's pillar—then immediately set out to reinforce Wudang. At that point, Yong So-ah and the bulk of Wudang's forces were stationed in Hunan. As things stood, the emptied Wudang might be trampled underfoot by the Demonic Cult.
But the Shaolin contingent that arrived at Wudang in haste could not close their mouths at the sight that greeted them at Wudang's Sword-Release Pond.
The Wudang Seven Heroes and Hyeon-yeong. A mere eight people had turned the entire Heavenly Demon Black Sword Unit into lonely ghosts.
W êbn̊o v̇ е l̈ Ӗnum а̄
From that day onward, the people of the murim bestowed upon Hyeon-yeong—whose very existence had been unknown to them—the most honored epithet.
Wudang Guardian God, Hyeon-yeong.
It was not that he'd lacked the talent to emerge into the world. His talent had been so overwhelming that he could not be allowed to.
A sect with Yong So-ah did not need two geniuses. Yong So-ah, who had to ascend to the very heavens, would monopolize Wudang's fortune and soar into the world with all his might—while Hyeon-yeong would guard Wudang from the shadows. That was Wudang's hundred-year plan.
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'Fucking hell. But why is the guardian spirit out here causing problems?'
Unlike Yong So-ah, Hyeon-yeong's unremarkable features and commonplace martial arts uniform might have given me hope that this wasn't the Hyeon-yeong I knew—but I quickly corrected myself.
W.е́ b̈n̄о̃ vе̃l̃ Е̌nu m а
'No matter how exceptional the Wudang Seven Heroes may be, they're no match for the Heavenly Demon Black Sword Unit. The one who could stop the Black Sword Unit was Hyeon-yeong and his prowess alone!'
To make matters worse, the spot on my chest where I'd been kicked was throbbing. Without the Heavenly Silkworm Treasure Robe my father had given me, would my chest even be intact?
"Young Hero Jin."
His gaze shifted to Dam Ak on my back, then returned to me.
"Why do you stake your life on something so futile?"
Futile...... Why did every last Wudang bastard insist on assigning value as they pleased and drawing their own conclusions?
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I quickly circulated my inner arts to tend to the injury. The throbbing ache gradually subsided.
"What exactly is futile here."
"What benefit does saving him bring you?"
Absurdly, Hyeon-yeong indulged my stalling even though he knew full well what I was doing. Was he that confident?
"This incident will brand you a traitor to the Orthodox Path murim, earning the condemnation of the entire world. You've made enemies of the Nine Sects and One Gang. The label of Black Path—the very misunderstanding you so despised—has now become the truth and will follow you forever."
He must have figured that no matter how much time he gave me, I was a rat trapped in a jar.
Е̄ n̊u m̈ а̄
But there was something he didn't know. Namely, that I possessed the recovery power of the Ten-Thousand-Year Earth Bear. Between the circulation of inner arts and the healing, the pain from the injury was steadily fading. My labored breathing had almost fully returned to normal.
"So you think I'm doing this for personal gain?"
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"If not...... then why are you risking your precious life for Dam Ak?"
Why...... why, he asks.
"Because I don't want war. You warmongering bastard."
Hyeon-yeong seemed slightly taken aback by my answer, falling silent for a moment. But soon enough, his expression returned to that porcelain mask unique to Wudang bastards.
Е̄ńû m̄ а̊
"Sometimes, people must shed blood for what is right. I too am prepared to shed blood at any time."
Look at this son of a bitch.
"Every martial artist of the Orthodox Path murim shares that conviction. They will gladly lay down their lives for the fixed path and chivalrous righteousness. Among those who bear a sword, who has not steeled themselves for at least that much?"
Both the Sichuan Blood Calamity and the Great Righteous-Demonic War of the previous life had erupted under that very logic. Yes, it was always the same. Every sacrifice and ruin always began with a noble justification.
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It was laughable. Those hypocrites preaching sacrifice without even knowing what the "nobility" they so easily invoked truly was.
"War demands the sacrifice of the weakest as collateral. You know that, don't you?"
Ē n um а̊
"......"
Of course he didn't. He'd never lived the life of the weak.
"And those sacrifices are almost always compelled by people like you."
"The righteous path neither compels nor suppresses sacrifice."
"Oh? Then what can you sacrifice?"
Without a heartbeat's hesitation, he answered.
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"Everything."
Would he really? When confronted with a situation demanding his 'true' sacrifice—could he accept even that?
"I'll kill Dam Ak right now."
"A wise choic——"
"And then I'll go straight to the Black Thought Alliance and kill the Alliance Leader too."
"......"
Е̄ n̄ů m а .ї d
"In exchange, you kill your own master, Clear Water True Man."
Hyeon-yeong's impassive eyes flew wide.
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"If you make that sacrifice, you can protect the fixed path just as you wish. How about it?"
"......That's unreasonable. For what possible reason should I kill my own master?"
At last, he was making sense.
I looked at the man's bewildered face and gripped my sword.
Е ňŭ_m̊ а̂ . î ď
"That is the sacrifice of the weak, you dumb son of a bitch."
And I unleashed the sword form I'd prepared.
Three Forms of the White Moon Governing Heaven.
First Form—Extreme Swiftness.
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SHRIEEK—
Splitting the air, it sliced for Hyeon-yeong's waist in a single stroke. His body was cleaved cleanly in two. But—
Еńum̊a . і̇ d̈
'No sensation of contact!'
No blood flowed from the bisected body. Instead, his form faded to translucence and vanished. Behind the dissolving silhouette, Hyeon-yeong drove in with his sword.
SHRIEEK—
I countered with the Minor Heaven Sword Art.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG—!
Over a dozen exchanges blazed by in an instant. When we separated, his sleeve had been sliced away and was falling to the ground.
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"How was that? The resentment of the wea——"
SLICE—
At the same time, my front sash had also been cut clean through.
'When did he——?'
While I stood dumbfounded, his voice reached me.
"Impressive. To have recovered already. As expected, I cannot afford to be careless."
Е̇ n̂_ŭ m̊а̊
What? Why was this bastard both genuinely strong and humble on top of it? That just made him harder to deal with!
"Resentment of the weak...... I heard your sophistry well. In the end, your journey must also end here."
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"You think I'll just roll over and accept that bullshit?"
"Well. We'll find out soon enough."
Hyeon-yeong drew his sword back, ran his index and ring finger along the flat of the blade, and raised it before him.
Taiji Thirteen Stances—one of Wudang's highest-tier sword arts. A semi-translucent current of qi formed the shape of the Taiji before him.
Ė nǔ mа
I clenched my teeth.
***
Wind blew. Not a wind with no discernible origin or direction. A wind with a clear beginning and an unmistakable course.
No mystical phenomenon of nature. An entirely human-wrought miracle.
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Soft, fluid, and slow. Yet nowhere in his movements could a single opening be found.
Taiji Thirteen Stances.
W̃ е́ b nо̆ v_еl Ë ǹum̈ а
A sword art maddening in its complexity, composed of only thirteen forms, unfurled from the hands of the man called Yong So-ah's shadow.
'Some shadow...... that's the level of a sect's Founding Patriarch.'
The Taiji Thirteen Stances, said to require ten years just to learn the basics—and he had perfected them before the age of thirty. The fact that Wudang had used him as a mere shadow beggared belief. Were all of Wudang's leaders blockheads?
'No, it means Wudang's depth runs that deep.'
A sect that had thrived for centuries possessed roots of commensurate depth.
Regardless, there was no room for hesitation. No matter how solid the wall or how towering the tree, right now I had to break through.
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GROOOOOOAN——
A ghastly scream of unknowable origin reverberated from the Red Radiance Sword. Knowing full well I couldn't break through without the resolve to kill, I poured every ounce of experience accumulated across nearly a hundred years—spanning both lives—into the Minor Heaven Sword Art.
SHRIIIIEK—
Minor Heaven Sword Art—Breaking Strike.
Driving in along the shortest distance with the greatest force. But—
'What......?'
W̌ е́.b n о̆ v̊ е l̊ Еn̊ u̇ mа̌
The Minor Heaven Sword Art, which should have pierced cleanly through flesh, slowed of its own accord before even touching his blade—as if plunged into thick mud.
'He can control air currents to this degree?'
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Had he noticed my surprise? Before I could launch my next form, he slipped into the gap.
SWISH— SWISH— SWI-SWISH—
His movements were undeniably slow, yet four sword images extended from his hand.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG—!
Е n̊ ŭ ḿá .í d
I nullified his sword images and immediately deployed the Twin Heaven Sword Formula. A dance of blades blossomed as every conceivable sword image encircled him.
WHOOSH—
Slowness subdued swiftness. The few overpowered the many. Softness repelled hardness.
TING-TING-TING-TING-TING-TING-TING-TING-TING—!
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Yet the dozens—hundreds—of sword images were blocked by his slow, fluid movements. The very essence of the Taiji Thirteen Stances.
It would have been remarkable enough simply to have entered and refined the art. But this man was demonstrating beyond all doubt that he had ascended to the tenth star of the Taiji Thirteen Stances.
Е̊ ñ ŭm̀ а̃ . i̇ d́
'Fine, let's see how this goes!'
A reed that refuses to be swept away by the storm is, in the end, easily cut by a small sickle, isn't it?
SHRIEEK—
Sharper. Stronger. Faster—I drove toward him relentlessly.
Over a dozen sword images, each carrying dense Sword Force, surged toward him. Pure, straightforward swordplay—no Illusion Sword or Variation Sword mixed in.
HUMMM—
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The air currents within the space he commanded briefly seized the Sword Force, but were soon overpowered.
CREAK— CREAK—
His body, contending with the Sword Force, was slowly pushed back, his feet scraping across the ground.
"......Softness Can Overcome Hardness, my ass!"
Hyeon-yeong's face also flushed crimson. I seized the force behind his desperate resistance and drove in relentlessly, again and again.
Just as I moved in to finish it—his opposite hand unleashed the Two Principles Fist Art.
W̌ё b̃ n̈о̃ ṽе̊l Е̃ n ŭ m a
THWACK-THWACK-THWACK-THWACK-THWACK-BOOM—!
"Ugh......"
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A numbing wave of fist qi battered my entire body. In the brief opening, his blade deflected the Sword Force's path. The minimal course correction left wounds on his own body, but he paid them no mind, refusing to let the moment for a counterattack slip away as he swung his sword again and again.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG—!
The sword images were less sharp than expected, and I was dodging them with ease—when a sudden realization struck me.
'That crafty bastard!'
Ё n umа. іď
His true target was not me but Dam Ak.
The sharpest, most precise sword lunged for Dam Ak's vitals. I instinctively thrust my arm forward.
SQUELCH—
"Young Master Jin......!!"
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His sword buried deep into my left forearm—both Hyeon-yeong and Dam Ak failed to hide their shock. At the same time, realizing he'd squandered a prime opportunity, Hyeon-yeong withdrew his blade to deploy the Taiji Thirteen Stances once more.
That was when I unleashed the trump card I'd been saving for last.
Е n̆_ũm̈ a . і d̈
CLANG—!
"What in......"
Confusion spread across Hyeon-yeong's face. Using the Shattering Form of the Taiji Fist to shatter the Taiji Thirteen Stances. It was, admittedly, a near-impossible domain. The two arts were practically different martial disciplines. But the Taiji Thirteen Stances had ultimately originated from the Taiji Fist.
I had endured a long, patient battle just to seize this one opening visible between his forms.
"What do you think it is? The sound of your skull cracking!"
Even that monster Yong So-ah had been caught off guard the first time—so perhaps this reaction was only natural.
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SLICE—
A long sword wound was carved from his right hip, running diagonally across to his left shoulder.
SPURT—
The instant blood erupted, Void-Annihilation Fist struck his qi center and middle qi center.
THWACK—!
"BLEGH!"
Еn̄ümа . ī d̈
Just as I was about to bring the sword down on his head as he coughed blood—
HUMMM—
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His blade once again formed the shape of the Taiji, blocking the Red Radiance Sword. The Wudang Guardian God was the Wudang Guardian God after all.
FWEEE—!
Just then, a signal flare bloomed in the distance. Any further delay would only benefit them.
I looked down at Hyeon-yeong and whispered.
Е n̄u m̄а̇
"Lucky you. I wanted to show you what real sacrifice means."
Leaving Hyeon-yeong behind—his eyes hollow with a dazed emptiness—I kicked off the ground.
Eunhyeon was within reach now. Just a little further...... just a little further...... and I could stop the war.
"Y-Young Master Jin......"
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Dam Ak's voice trembled with unease from behind me. Was he startled by the wound?
"We're almost there. Don't worry."
Е n um̆ ӑ
I tried to reassure him, but—
"That's not it......"
His anxiety wouldn't fade. The man who'd treated his own life like a tool was this unsettled—what could possibly be driving his fear?
The moment I turned my head to identify what was terrorizing Dam Ak—
SWISH, SWISH, SWISH—
Hyeon-yeong's body, which had been collapsed on the ground, began to rise as though pulled up on strings.
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"That crazy bastard......"
The hero's headband that had bound his hair tight flew skyward, and his martial arts uniform swelled in every direction as if about to burst. Reason seemingly lost, his irises had rolled back—only the whites remained.
He had tapped into his Innate Energy.
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