Chapter 48
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Qi Curtain
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The commotion that erupted in the middle of the night was truly uproarious.
A house-sized tiger clashing with peak-level martial artists.
Trees in the forest snapped and burst apart, leaving massive scars on the ground like those from a fallen meteor.
It was a noisy night, as if a fierce storm had swept through.
Even though the fight took place in a clearing a short distance from the campsite—loud enough to be heard from at least ten li away—no one there noticed a thing.
Strangely, the caravan members, who had turned in early, slept soundly without sensing anything unusual.
“Phew, this is harder than I thought...?”
It was because So-hyang had enveloped the campsite's surroundings in a veil woven from spirit energy.
Qi Curtain
A technique primarily used to prevent sound from leaking during intimate, secretive conversations. Even peak-level experts could manage it with sufficient qi control...
But that was only for covering a space the size of a small room. Erecting it outdoors over an area vast enough to blanket a campsite with dozens of people was a feat difficult even for super-peak masters.
“Heh, brute-forcing a sorcerer's trick with raw inner power. Are you in the Aura Realm or something?”
“Ehe, you're flattering me too much. Not quite that level.”
A martial artist's inner power, by nature, disperses gradually after being emitted from the body, reverting to the natural world.
In essence, their strength shines brightest when focused on points and lines rather than broad areas or volumes—and it's far more efficient to unleash it in a single explosive burst than to sustain it.
Even qi art masters like Lee Se-min or the Zhuge family head addressed this by compressing their qi to its limits and transforming it into Gang Qi...
To erect such a delicate barrier—one that merely muffled sound—across this vast expanse and hold it steady until dawn defied the old man's very understanding of the world.
He himself, before cultivating demonic arts and in his original realm, could never have managed it.
“...Does your inner power just spring up infinitely?”
“Not quite—it's more like it replenishes instantly as I use it.”
Even for So-hyang, it would have been impossible without storing her spirit sword within her. Only after manifesting it and planting it in the campsite's center as an axis could she barely endure.
She absorbed the spirit energy, depleted like water in every moment, right back via the Bright Mystery Sword Art to sustain the curtain.
“Isn't that the Nature Realm...?”
The transcendent realm where essence, qi, and spirit unite as one with nature, turning the world itself into one's dantian.
Yes—the hallmark of the Aura Realm.
“You... you're truly no transcendent being...?”
The old man grew ever more baffled by the entity before his eyes.
“Aigoo, I told you it's nothing like that. It's just a clever hack exploiting the quirks of the martial art I practice.”
Compared to a freakish monster whose inner power bordered on infinite, with no real notion of depletion, it was merely superior qi efficiency.
Something utterly impossible without the spirit sword's unique nature.
As proof, beads of sweat dotted So-hyang's forehead—a sign of the considerable strain even on her.
Even so.
“If my eyes aren't failing me, that strain itself is easing with time, isn't it?”
Her proficiency in deploying the curtain improved as the hours passed; now, she maintained it with ease.
“Heh, yeah—doing it got me used to it.”
She had never before projected her spirit energy so extensively or intensely outside her body, making this a valuable lesson for her.
And the insight gained from her recent bout with the Zhuge family head had proven invaluable.
“I had a breakthrough recently. Makes it manageable now.”
The 'adaptation' function—mimicking the Strong Brain Formation's uniqueness through her spirit nature. A freshly comprehended realm of the spirit sword.
Not quite defying laws to turn the impossible possible like the original, but it steadily eased the repetition of actions.
Still, she couldn't entrust full control to the spirit sword.
Ultimately, it was her spirit and her tool; no amount of familiarity could ignore the drain on her focus.
“Hmm... was the trouble of erecting that curtain truly necessary?”
“Aw, they busted their butts walking all day. Disturbed sleep? Not on my watch.”
These were ordinary folk without martial arts training. Even if the terrain wasn't brutally harsh, trekking mountains built up fatigue—they deserved deep rest.
“Ha... to show such consideration...?”
The old man could somewhat grasp the mindset of the pristine white girl before him—real girl or not, she appeared as one.
She discerned moral right from wrong, generally acted on the righteous path, and took pleasure in thoughtfulness toward others.
A clear force for good, if one drew lines between virtue and vice...
Yet when swords or martial pursuits entered the equation, she shoved such concerns aside, pursuing her whims like a hedonist.
Well, maniacs consumed by martial arts and ascension were a dime a dozen in the jianghu—and she ranked among the elite.
It just left his emotions in a tangle.
“Tch, can't even get properly mad...”
No malice in her actions, plain to see. Rude, yes—but no egregious rampage, and she even offered amends afterward. Hard to take offense.
“Grrr...”
“Yeah, you like it here? How 'bout this spot?”
As the old man mulled this over, So-hyang's hand—pressed to Yaun's flank—now stroked its nose bridge and vigorously scratched its belly.
Evidently taken with the fur's texture, a contented smile lit her face. Fur on her clothes? No concern; she petted on.
Manryu-gwijong: a realm of massage transcending gender, age, and even species to soothe beasts.
“Grooo...”
Thoroughly delighted, the purring vibrations intensified; its tension melted away, body going limp like liquid.
“Ha, Yaun. You know she's the root of all that trouble—yet you melt like this?”
“Ahem... did you have to put it that way...?”
Yaun had taken the brunt of last night's chaos—beaten black-and-blue till dawn.
A spirit beast whose intellect rivaled or surpassed the average human, Yaun grasped the full story.
“Gro?”
Intelligence aside, beasts and humans viewed the world differently.
Hurt? Sure—but So-hyang had healed it spotless. Problem solved.
Moreover, instinct screamed the truth.
“Haha, a mountain of a beast acting like a housecat? Adorable.”
A tiny frame crammed with unfathomable energy and density, an indescribable chill and razor edge to its presence.
The snow-white being before them wielded monstrous power dwarfing not just Yaun, but its aged master too.
“Gr...”
Dare one voice grievance before a force that could pulp them into bloody mist on the spot?
Fortune smiled: no harm intended—quite the opposite, affection shown.
Can't win? Join 'em. No point nursing grudges.
The wild's law: submit to the mighty, belly bared in surrender.
“How's this? Ahaha, loving it?”
“Gororong...”
Well, the petting felt nice too.
In any case, thanks to So-hyang's thoughtfulness, the caravan greeted their usual peaceful dawn...
“Hkiiiyaaaaak!!!”
Only to faint dead away at the pitch-black tiger demurely belly-up beside the campsite.
No exaggeration—a house-sized beast.
“Everyone, our Yaun's no mean tiger—nothing to fear!”
“Y-Yes?”
Perplexity deepened at So-hyang's beaming smile from atop the monster's back.
“Bit of a ruckus last night, but we made friends in the end. Right, Yaun-ah?”
“Waooong.”
“Uwuzhuzh, such a good boy.”
“...???”
The colossal, jet-black-furred monstrosity—clearly no ordinary creature—uttered cat-like mews.
Even those gentle tones boomed with grave depth, knees buckling at the sound.
The caravan folk... accepted it, somehow.
“U, uuu... no sparring...”
The adjacent forest lay in ruins, Song Seolryeong—the caravan's manager and heir—out cold, filthy with dirt and sweat.
“S-So-hyang miss... get off...”
Zhuge Hansang, the jianghu expert dispatched by the Zhuge clan, fared no better.
“Porcelain... brick... pagoda... resonance... sword... downward cleave... repeat... expand... firmer still...”
The most dependable elder, Kang Pyo, sat eyes shut in lotus position, exuding an eerie aura as he muttered oddly.
“Ha, tempting fate, are you? Forget I raised you?”
Some black-eyed old man of ill omen—source unknown—grumbled reproachfully nearby...
“-Ah, yes. Understood.”
The caravan... accepted it anyway.
Scenes too far beyond norms prompted thought-surrender.
And after witnessing So-hyang—this super-peak master—perform endlessly bizarre, inexplicable feats throughout the journey...
“Wh-what in the world happened...?”
“Beats me. Breakfast time.”
In short, they'd learned to embrace incomprehensible reality wholesale.
...By abandoning comprehension.
Thus, they kindled fires, hauled water, studiously ignored the house-sized tiger, and bustled about.
“...What're you doing? Why're you just sitting there?”
“L-legs... won't move...!”
Feebler wills buckled, planting them briefly on the spot.
A normal tiger spelled doom for mortals—what of one ten times the size?
Bonus: the shoulder-crushing, spine-chilling pressure.
“Aigoo, instinctively flaring your presence, eh?”
Yaun's aura as mountain lord, leaking naturally.
No threat intended, no malice—just lounging blankly—yet it crushed all around.
Martial artists trained to suppress and contain such force; spirit beasts saw no need.
“Hm, Yaun-ah? Mind tucking in your aura for a bit?”
“Grr?”
Adept at stealth, it swiftly cloaked its presence at her nudge.
“Phewww... can breathe again...”
“Good boy.”
So-hyang rewarded the compliant back-pat.
With the fuss settled, folk soothed rattled hearts over warm broth.
“-Hueeeek!”
“-Uwaaak!!”
Amid this, the fainted duo—Song Seolryeong and Zhuge Hansang—stirred back to wakefulness.
“Ahaha, what a dramatic wakeup.”
Small wonder: eyes opened to their near-fatal tiger foe and jaw-unhinging old man.
So-hyang hastily calmed the pair as they surged inner power into combat readiness.
“That's the gist of it.”
“-Then why'd we fight?”
Story heard, they gawked at So-hyang in dismay. Left alone, no brawl would've happened.
“Real combat experience, naturally?”
Fierce melee under super-peak oversight, zero life risk. An invaluable chance.
The razor-edge tension of mortal peril: classic catalyst for breakthroughs.
And sure enough, both sensed tangible gains in prowess.
Kang Pyo had even vaulted realms in spectacular fashion.
For a martial artist? Peerless fortune.
For spirit beasts too.
Unlike beasts driven by survival,, and instinct, spirit beasts—imbued with nature's mysteries—pursued ascension akin to humans.
“...As he says, nailed that palm form I couldn't grasp for ages.”
Yaun licked its forepaw, looking quite pleased.
Some friction, yes—but net gains all around, zero losses. A boon, no?
Barring the consent issue.
“C'mon and eat. You burned energy—must be starving.”
“Ah, uh... haa... y-yes...”
Song Seolryeong's face twisted in turmoil; words abandoned, she shoveled in rice.
Song Seolryeong eyed the old man askance, reluctance and distaste plain as she posed her question.
“Th-that... silly to harp on now, but... you're a fiend, aren't you?”
Fiend ().
Beings extant since before humanity harnessed nature's qi—back when men bore human hearts.
Those who indulged vice's emotions, embracing the profound demon lurking in soul and psyche's depths.
Most wrought harm on folk, detriment to the world at large.
“True enough... but I'm no deviant who piled demonic qi through twisted, inhuman means. A proper disciple of the Demonic Cult's orthodox arts.”
Divine Cult ()—or more precisely, prior to the Heavenly Demon God Cult's founding.
To be exact: before the Heavenly Demon himself emerged.