Chapter 119
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 119
Chapter Title: Sword Mountain
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Of course, the opponents she had faced in Beijing over the past week were all exceptionally skilled masters, without exception.
Especially the first one, Southern General Ouyang Geuk—he had landed the most effective hits on So-hyang, aside from transcendent-realm experts.
His technique was simple, without complex effects, yet supremely swift and exquisite. Without the White Realm, it would not have been so easy to counter in her sealed physical state.
Indeed, the fist of Nirvana Pure Strike that extended with his enlightenment reached near-light speed, thrilling enough to make So-hyang genuinely sense a threat to her life.
Without a doubt, he was among the pinnacles of the super first-rate realm.
Though classified outside the Top 100 Masters Under Heaven because he was a government official rather than a martial artist, his final strike alone would have vied for a spot in the top ten if ranked.
But the problem was that the other masters had not fought her with such sincerity.
They were servants of the empire first and foremost, bound by their duties.
They could not go all-out to the death, holding back to light sparring without full techniques.
It was hardly a bloodbath—more like a casual exchange, barely qualifying as a bout.
Ouyang Geuk had been serious due to his heart demon, but the others generally held back.
Even so, the martial arts each had honed were enticing, brilliant, and beautiful.
Even from brief exchanges, their depth was evident, granting So-hyang countless inspirations—far from wasted time.
However.
However.
She couldn't help feeling dissatisfied.
The tree in her inner mind was laden with countless flower buds and fruits ready to bloom, yet each fell just one step short of full flowering.
To use a metaphor, it was like a banquet of the world's finest delicacies and specialties, where she only tasted a single spoonful of each.
Undeniably exquisite cuisine, yet her hunger remained unsated.
Half-resolved desire only torments and maddens one further.
She had suppressed the urge to slash at them full-force until they risked death countless times.
Thus, despite a week of nonstop sparring, So-hyang ended up even hungrier amid her satisfaction.
She hid it well, but her patience had long teetered on the brink.
For that reason, So-hyang was stroking and braiding Number One's hair to soothe her mind and body.
"—How is it, Number One? Do you like it?"
Number One's hair in the mirror was parted into two neat, adorable braids.
"Mm... Honestly, I have no idea... but somehow, it feels good."
As an assassin, Number One had no interest or knowledge in adornments, merely tying her hair back tightly.
She couldn't express if it was pretty or to her liking...
But a joyful expression clearly surfaced.
"Really? I'll teach you how to braid it too, so you can try yourself later."
"...Yes, that sounds good."
Leaving Number One to fiddle wondrously with her hair using her delicate, fern-like hands, So-hyang's gaze turned back to the imperial princess.
"So, the Dreamwalking Sword Demon, was it?"
Her eyes gleamed with a chilling madness, veiled beneath warmth and affection.
Among martial arts, those that cultivate natural energies as internal force are commonly called heart techniques or heart methods.
But isn't that strange?
Since it involves accumulating energy through breathing, wouldn't terms like qi cultivation or breathing methods be more fitting?
Why use the character for "heart," which seems unrelated at first glance?
Because ultimately, wielding qi stems from human will.
Whether drawing in energy through breath.
Or refining and powering internal force through form practice.
The agent controlling qi is always the will.
Those seeking to embody scorching, fierce blazing fire pursue extreme yang internal arts.
Those aiming for the biting cold of northern winters or razor-sharp power pursue extreme yin internal arts.
Those following Buddha's teachings to cast off evil and manifest righteousness wield the Dharma power of Evil-Breaking Pure Sound.
Thus, those who master orthodox heart techniques generally develop upright, virtuous temperaments.
Conversely, those walking the demonic path often reveal wild savagery in their nature.
Not that all orthodox followers are saints and demonic ones villains—it's not absolute—but the tendency exists.
Easily gained achievements are unstable, stagnation comes frequently, and regression is common.
Unless possessing overwhelming talent beyond peers, black path and unorthodox warriors dread their martial arts' decline.
Thus, many seek shortcuts.
For instance, spiritual medicines—consuming spirit items condensed from nature's energy to boost total internal force.
Or divine techniques—gaining enlightenment from profound insights of ancient sages.
Or divine weapons—acquiring swords or spears that refine one's path just by holding them.
This applies equally to orthodox warriors, differing only in degree from the unorthodox.
The common image of martial artists: flocking madly to treasure maps marking ancient masters' tombs, ruined sect sites, or hidden caves.
And not wrongly so.
When factions clash over such treasures, dozens or hundreds dying is no rarity.
The birth of the Dreamwalking Sword Demon stemmed from such a clash.
Roughly two hundred years ago, before the Blood Cult stirred and the bloody wars erupted.
Before Martial God Sima Yulcheon was hailed as such, a treasure map detailing the ancient peak where his sword was embedded surfaced.
Called Sword Mountain.
A mere ordinary weapon compared to master smiths like Ouyezi—yet a sword of one who transcended sages would naturally hold mystical properties.
Whether it truly possessed special powers is unknown, but contemporary martial artists thought otherwise.
Their generation had few who hadn't witnessed the Martial God striding the jianghu.
The father of the martial world, who overhauled the entire system of martial arts, advancing it while spreading it openly to all.
Seeing or hearing of one man rivaling an empire and opening a new world...
It bred expectations: merely observing his footprints might awaken Eye of Insight; grasping his chopsticks, Diamond Finger.
Astoundingly, some such rumors even proved true.
If word spread not of robes, but his sword—the paragon of martial arts, called the king of ten thousand soldiers—remained as a relic...
What warrior wouldn't lose their mind?
Mendicant wanderers scavenging martial arts in the wilds.
Diverse unorthodox factions rallying around a single sword.
Foul cultists following twisted doctrines, yearning for humanity's overthrow.
Even the typically reserved Taoist priests of righteous orthodoxies and clan bloodlines.
Hell, even the empire's military, ruling beyond the martial world.
Realms varied: third-rate novices, peak first-rate experts, even super first-rates.
A fierce scramble for a strategic treasure akin to war materiel—a cauldron of chaos.
No exaggeration to call it a storm of crows and maggots devouring luscious corpses.
What was the outcome?
A bloodbath.
Martial artists' blood flowed like rivers, corpses piled into mountains.
A hellscape of slaughter and betrayal, where even trusted allies perished together atop Sword Mountain...
Yet one reached the summit.
Gut split, entrails spilling; one arm severed; back pierced by a dozen weapons.
The super first-rate swordsman called Sword Ghost in his era claimed the peak.
How could a body long dead, or ought to be, still move?
Desperate obsession to obtain the Martial God's sword and shatter his decade-blocked limits?
Or rage at betrayal by trusted disciples and friends?
Or death, blood, regrets, and grudges taking form to propel him?
All of it.
The Sword Ghost's extraordinary nature, plus Sword Mountain temporarily reborn as a demonic realm from countless deaths.
And one more trigger.
The Martial God's plain iron sword truly held his martial soul.
In his hemorrhage-induced haze, the swordsman gripped it; responding to his will, it devoured the peak's ghostly and demonic energies.
At its end, a demon was born.
The Martial God's demonic sword, corrupted by obsessions.
The Sword Demon swallowed by the demonic sword.
The moment his ascension desire, etched upon grasping the blade, birthed a monster endlessly slaughtering to hone its edge.