Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Night Cloud
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An elephant-sized tiger's front paw swung with the subtleties of staff techniques incorporated, for reasons unknown.
The power packed into it was clearly beyond what even those at the peak level could withstand.
Yet such an attack was completely blocked by a single bamboo staff, leaving the three in disbelief.
"Cough, cough..."
The black bamboo staff, crafted from polished pitch-black bamboo, was gripped by an elderly man with a full head of white hair.
Indeed, even he couldn't handle it entirely effortlessly; he spat up blood with a cough, as if having suffered internal injuries.
"W-Wooowoooong!?"
However, the black tiger's reaction was utterly bizarre.
Like a puppy that had accidentally bitten its owner, or a beast that had stepped on its young, it let out a blunt wail filled with bewilderment and worry.
Its eyes, which had gleamed sharply with the ferocity of a natural predator and hunter, now softened into gentle, round orbs.
"Grrr..."
It lowered itself into a prone position, bowing its head to gaze worriedly at the old man's face.
Where had the majesty of the mountain lord gone? It now resembled a house cat or a dog.
"Heh heh, don't worry too much, Night Cloud."
The black tiger carefully lifted its front paw, claws retracted, and gently pressed against the old man's face—as if asking if he was truly alright.
"If I may ask... who might you be?"
He didn't seem like an enemy for the moment, but seeing him so friendly with the beast they'd just been fighting to the death against made it impossible to drop their guard.
"I am but an old man dwelling in these mountains. My Night Cloud has committed a grave discourtesy. I sincerely apologize."
It was the deep, gentle voice of an elderly man. His manner of speech was mild and courteous, evoking no sense of repulsion.
"Th-That tiger... you... raise it?"
"Ahem, yes. I should have restrained it before the fight began, but... well, someone interrupted my attempts to do so. My apologies."
Was it right to raise a man-eating beast?
How had he tamed a mystical creature the size of an elephant in the first place?
And what did he mean by "restrained"?
A multitude of questions arose in the group's minds, but the first one voiced was this.
"By the way, why have you been facing away this whole time?"
From blocking Night Cloud's attack to exchanging words up to now, the old man had kept his back turned, never showing his face.
"...Hm."
The old man let out a hesitant hum, pausing as if deliberating, then turned around carefully, as if having made up his mind.
"I hope there are no misunderstandings."
It was a face matching his voice.
A benevolent grandfatherly impression, often called a dignified visage, though his pale complexion suggested the shock of blocking the tiger's paw had been considerable.
His face bore fewer wrinkles than his entirely snow-white hair might suggest. He seemed more middle-aged than truly elderly.
And then, his eyes came into view.
"-!?"
They were pitch black.
The old man's whites of the eyes were dyed utterly black, reverse pupils, and upon meeting his gaze, a viscous demonic energy exploded forth.
Viscous, dense, profound.
It was an insidious demonic aura so potent it was unbelievable they hadn't noticed it until locking eyes.
"I am a member of the Tru-"
There was no need to hear the old man's attempted explanation.
No, it was impossible to listen.
Any human, any living being with feet planted in this world, could not help but harbor hatred toward it.
""-Demonic scum!""
Song Seol-ryeong and Jeon-gal Han-sang, unable to contain their boiling rage, charged at the old man.
"Heh, of all times, now...!"
The Mount Hua Sect's soft sword techniques, infused with instinctive variations for aggressive use.
Jeon-gal's formation-based martial arts unleashed in unpredictable, ferocious chain punches.
Against a beast of vastly superior physique, these had been somewhat meaningless, but against another martial artist, their power was even greater.
"Huh?"
Yet the combined assault of these talented warriors was blocked by the old man with ridiculous ease.
He smoothly deflected the incoming sword with his staff, pushing it outward and disarming her grip.
The fierce chain strikes flying in bizarre trajectories were ignored entirely, repelled far away by an explosive burst from the staff's tip.
"Listen to me for a moment!"
The overwhelming gap in martial prowess was evident even from that single exchange.
His words suggested no intent to fight in earnest.
Yet their fury did not subside.
Song Seol-ryeong charged with staff techniques she wasn't proficient in, while Jeon-gal Han-sang launched a kick enveloped in even thicker fist aura.
"Tch, no helping it...!"
The white-haired elder swung his staff lightly with a reluctant expression.
A single elegant curve traced in the air.
The black bamboo tip lightly brushed both their jaws simultaneously, the exquisite impact shaking their brains and causing them to lose consciousness.
"Groan, why must you have an outburst now of all times..."
The old man groaned at the sight of the two collapsing like puppets with cut strings.
He pressed his eyelids wearily, suppressing his uncontrolled inner energy as much as possible.
Demonic Eyes that induced extreme hostility, rage, and hatred in anyone their power touched.
Those troublesome eyes were one reason he secluded himself in these remote mountains.
Regardless, what was done was done. He turned to the middle-aged warrior unaffected by the Demonic Eyes to clear the misunderstanding.
"Hey, I only knocked them out, so don't misunderstand. I'm not some demonic practitioner of an evil lineage—I'm from the True Cult... Ah, damn it."
The old man finally uttered a curse at the chaotic situation before him.
Because the middle-aged warrior—Gang Pyo—harbored even greater malice in his eyes than the other two.
Was it arrogance?
Having chanced upon a precious opportunity beyond his station, glimpsing a breakthrough from stagnation that had lasted a full decade.
Thinking all that was left was to shape the clay and let it dry.
Believing he'd accomplished something by cooperating with the two to push back that mighty spirit beast.
Had he thought he'd achieved something?
In the end, hadn't he been moments from having his head crushed by the beast's paw, powerless until the two were on the brink of death?
Wait for the clay to dry?
Exercise patience?
"And this is the result...!"
Gang Pyo's thoughts, swept up in unnatural rage from the Demonic Eyes' power, could scarcely make sound judgments.
That the two weren't dead but merely unconscious. That the old man before him wasn't an enemy.
None of it registered in Gang Pyo's eyes.
Rage blazing fiercely like flames, untethered from reality, fueled solely by the Demonic Eyes.
To dry the clay's moisture and harden it firmly wasn't only a matter of airing it out over time.
Rather, thrusting it into fierce flames to bake it solid was the truer way.
Preserving the painstakingly shaped form, the engraved patterns of brilliant inspiration intact...
A sturdy brick was completed.
And it stacks.
Stacks again.
Again.
Continuously, without stopping.
As if all the effort and accumulation thus far were finally bearing fruit, the tower rose at a terrifying speed.
"-Uwaaaaaah!!!!"
With a roar, the scabbard binding Gang Pyo's sword was shed. No—shattered.
-Kiiiiiiing!
Ground to powder by the sword's mad vibrations and resonant hum.
"...What?"
The old man gasped, sensing the sudden peril.
The chilling, ferocious sword cry sent shivers down the spine. At a glance it was extraordinary, but the old man recognized its nature more precisely.
"An ultimate technique...!?"
Distinct from conventional martial arts, eerily akin to the transcendent cry of a supreme technique symbolizing the transcendent realm.
Yet the aura didn't quite reach that level.
To manifest an ultimate technique from the peak realm was unprecedented since the War God's era, as far as the old man knew.
"Die-!!"
Gang Pyo swung the ominously vibrating sword at the old man with madness-fueled eyes.
The elder blocked with his staff shrouded in black demonic qi, but it split cleanly in half.
"No, what is this...!"
He evaded with exquisite footwork of an advanced realm, but this was far too dangerous.
Subduing this man without killing him seemed difficult, even for the old man.
"-Do you intend to just watch until I die!?"
In the end, gritting his teeth, the old man turned and bellowed at someone.
"Haha, I didn't expect it to escalate this far."
Gang Pyo's madly vibrating sword clashed against So-hyang's pristine white spirit sword and came to an abrupt halt.
Among the three, Gang Pyo was the one with the most anticipated growth potential, but no one had expected such explosive progress.
This wasn't merely overcoming a blocked wall—it was soaring outright.
Ideally, she'd love to exchange a few casual blows to test his achievements, but—
"Hm, not the situation for that right now."
Gang Pyo's complexion was poor.
The backlash from his rapid realm advancement, compounded by demonic qi invasion, had him teetering on the edge of qi deviation.
"First things first, let's purge that demonic qi."
So-hyang pressed down lightly on the clashing sword to lower it, then flicked Gang Pyo's forehead with her other hand.
A snap infused with evil-breaking and demon-purging intent resounded clearly from his forehead, restoring clarity to his clouded eyes.
"-Kuaak!?"
Gang Pyo dropped his sword, clutching his forehead in agony that pierced his skull and soul.
"...S-So-hyang?"
"Warrior Gang, your condition isn't great right now. I'll explain later—just circulate your energy for now."
"Pardon? What do you... Hup!"
He blinked in momentary confusion at her abrupt words, but comprehended instantly from the pain surging within, sitting cross-legged on the spot.
"What’s heated must be cooled. The faster it was built, the more effort it'll take to stabilize."
"...Yes."
Taking So-hyang's advice to heart, Gang Pyo immediately focused on regulating his breathing.
Time passed considerably, until the moon had nearly crossed to the west.
Sunrise was still some way off, but faint light was beginning to seep in.
"Grrr..."
A pained groan escaped Night Cloud, who lay with eyes closed under the old man's ministrations.
Small wonder, after being battered all night by a vibrating scabbard, pummeled by limbs harder than steel, and slashed repeatedly by sword qi-infused blades.
No matter how tough a spirit beast's hide and muscles, the pain would be immense.
"...Aw, does it hurt?"
The old man stroked Night Cloud's snout sympathetically, only to shoot So-hyang a reproachful look as if to say, "And you call me out?"
"I tried to stop the fight before it started, but you blocked me, young lady."
Driving off intruders breaching its territory was a beast's instinct. The old man had only cautioned Night Cloud to merely threaten and chase away people passing by.
It had worked thus far, and he'd planned the same this time... but.
[Eh, it looks fun—don't stop it.]
He couldn't, due to the telepathic message piercing his concealment.
The girl, young to the point of childishness with her pale silver eyes... was unbelievably a martial artist of higher standing than himself.
[Neither our side nor your pet will get seriously hurt if I block it, so can we watch for a bit?]
True to her word, no serious injuries occurred—but plenty of minor ones did.
Whether to credit or blame the spirit beast's renowned toughness was ambiguous.
"Ahaha... sorry...?"
So-hyang averted her gaze from the old man's reluctant stare and placed a hand on Night Cloud's flank.
"-Krung?"
"-What are you doing now!"
His wariness was understandable, but even So-hyang wouldn't do anything insane in this situation.
She merely filtered vital and lively energies based on pliable technique principles, infusing spirit qi.
"...Grrr."
Night Cloud purred contentedly, the sound rumbling hugely like thunder from its house-sized frame.
"Not like you're in a position to give medicine after poison..."
The old man sighed, glaring quietly at So-hyang as if wondering just what kind of person she was.
"Ahem..."
Seeming to know shame, at least, So-hyang turned her gaze to the distant mountains.