Chapter 66
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Shattering
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The group felt a twinge of repulsion at True Person Qinghe's excessively admiring expression.
So-hyang smiled awkwardly, waving her hand as she explained.
She had always been a connoisseur who savored the taste of liquor.
Having achieved Bone Transformation as a transcendent master, her five senses were far more acute than those of lesser realms.
Moreover, through Rejuvenation, she retained the supple sensitivity of a child, making the sensations intensely vivid.
Above all, True Person Qinghe had originally been a dedicated drinker who appreciated fine liquor.
And yet, after the war ended, he had sworn off it completely.
By the time his cravings had faded into oblivion, he was given this exquisite brew that ravaged not just his taste and smell, but all his senses mercilessly.
"-Huuuuh...! It seeps in...!"
In short, the long period of abstinence made the stimulation's rebound all the more extreme.
The fragrance and flavor spread with crystal clarity, permeating his body in ecstatic bliss that threatened to melt him away.
"...You're making a bit of a fuss, but this is just liquor. No need to worry at all."
"Kuhk, this liquor is truly to die for-!"
"...Really?"
Leaving True Person Qinghe—who had abandoned all dignity as a Daoist to become a blatant boozehound—behind, So-hyang poured cups for the others.
"...Is it really okay to drink this?"
-----
Noknongcheong was a liquor brewed with dilution in mind from the start, its flavor varying wildly depending on the method.
Like cocktails or mixed drinks, but So-hyang maximized this trait, blending it to suit individual tastes.
First, following Confucian custom, she started with Gang Pyo, the eldest.
"...Sh-Shouldn't you serve the Sect Leader first?"
Though older by age, in terms of seniority and generation, the Sect Leader was his vastly superior.
"I'll leave the Sect Leader's to the True Person. Isn't it proper to learn your first drink from your parents?"
"...Yes, then I gratefully accept."
So-hyang held the gourd bottle of Noknongcheong, gazing steadily at Gang Pyo.
"Hm, why do you look at me like that...?"
Gang Pyo had been a wandering ronin scraping by at the bottom of the martial world, his palate shaped by cheap fire wine amid a drifter's life.
The boy who once spat in agony at the burning heat and bitter burn was gone; now a mature man who could discern sweetness even in crude spirits.
For such a guest who found sweetness in bitterness, excess sugar would only interfere.
Just a hint—enough to faintly tint the liquor—a few drops of viscous Noknongcheong fell into the high-proof fire wine.
She shook it more vigorously than before, infusing warmth via spiritual energy to make it slightly tepid.
Then, a pinch of pepper for the finishing touch, and another shake.
"Noknongcheong and fire wine, with pepper added—shall we have a cup?"
As with True Person Qinghe, she poured with precise, elegant poise.
This was bartending technique from her past life, blended with the graceful demeanor of the big sisters etched in young So-hyang's memory.
Her waist bent gracefully, left hand supporting the pouring right, sleeves and hair flowing softly.
Not a drop spilled; the crystalline green-tinged liquid filled it perfectly.
Capturing the eyes, filling the silence, teasing the nose with its slow-emerging aroma.
Even before tasting, it felt like lavish hospitality worthy of a fortune.
In other words, the service of a top courtesan.
"Th-That... Thank you."
Though impeccably courteous, it was unbecoming of a transcendent master, so Gang Pyo eyed her oddly but said nothing, downing it roughly as usual.
He didn't know to savor by rolling it on the tongue like True Person Qinghe; he just gulped it down.
And that was the perfect way to experience the drink So-hyang had made for him.
"Kruuuuh...!"
A groan escaped unwittingly.
The tepid liquor scorched his throat intensely, the dragon well's presence vivid alongside.
Gang Pyo disliked overt sweetness, but this fleeting hint enhanced without cloying.
As a subtle richness lingered, the pepper's sharp sting pierced his nose.
Adding pepper to liquor? He'd thought it odd at first, but now he wanted to slap his past self.
"No, this... Hoo...!"
In his gutter days, only cheap fire wine and slop; later, at peak realm with status, fine foods were available.
Yet even "delicacies" barely surpassed the crude fare.
Thus, this was his first true savoring of exquisite cuisine.
Not emphasizing Noknongcheong, but amplifying the fire wine's bold spirit, with other flavors as subtle enhancers.
"It's a polarizing mix, but perfect for Warrior Gang's taste."
"Indeed, you're right..."
I've got a crude palate; can't enjoy fine food.
A jest, yet sincere, often on his lips.
That perception flipped completely.
Seas turning to mulberry fields, heaven and earth apart.
One sip, and the world looked different.
A born of first-time awe.
.
Deep feeling moving the heart.
Not mere pleasure, but a shock reflecting on his life.
"Ah."
For some reason, his master's words resurfaced.
-----
A master who picked up a worthless ronin past thirty—frail bones, dull wits, only grit to his name.
Bestowing his lifetime's knowledge unsparingly, a lifelong too shameful to face.
"Pyo. No talent is sad, but not a great flaw."
"...But, Master."
"Talent is innate. But martial arts is study to surpass innate limits, to become higher."
"..."
"Even if it takes a year where others leap in one, once crossed, you're no different."
Back then, Gang Pyo was mere second-rate, not even Minor Circulation, let alone peak.
Nearly a decade under master, still stagnant at thirty—time to stand alone.
Grueling practice yielded empty eyes, no substance.
No, self-deprecation muttered inwardly, fearing master's ears—a heart plagued.
"But failing to cross means nothing..."
"True now, and forever?"
"That's...!"
"Rephrase: do you wish it so?"
"Of course not-!"
"Pyo. Even if no one believes in you, you must believe in yourself."
Straight truth. He knew master was right.
Yet—
"...It's, not easy, Master."
A burly bearded man, yet tears welled, throat choked unbecomingly.
"I know. Wholehearted effort, no progress, heart rotting bit by bit."
"...Yes."
"Can't believe in yourself."
"......Yes."
Head drooping, back bending, as if sinking into the floor.
Floor only in view, suffocating, mirroring his future.
Master tsked pityingly, smashing fist into the floor he stared at.
"-Head up, back straight!!"
"...Gasp!!"
Wooden floor splintered like thin ice, earth exposed.
Fierce fist wind snapped him alert; he straightened per command.
Master's eyes blazed—anger? Sorrow? Now, he saw faith.
"Pyo, I believe in you."
"...Because you cherish me—"
"Songwol Merchant Guild Leader, praising you as promising youth, believes."
"...He saved by me, unaware of my dullness—."
"Ronin comrades calling you brother believe you're great."
Bottom-feeders, poor judgment—thought, but unspoken.
Shamed at scorning comrades, head dipped again.
"Hey!"
Master's shout, knuckle to forehead flicked it straight.
"Kwik!"
Pain-tears, unlike despair's.
"Pyo, listen. Even if not convinced yet, hear me."
"...Yes, Master."
"I believe: you'll achieve Minor Circulation to first-rate, Major to peak."
What saw such faith? Upright heart useless in martial arts, why.
"Even transcendent I couldn't reach, you will."
"...! How could I—"
Master raised hand, silencing.
"But I worry: even after, this memory chains you like a brand."
Like dog circling post post-freedom.
Master endlessly fretted over foolish disciple recloaking shed skin.
"...Master."
Snapping from memory, Gang Pyo gripped cup tightly, tears silent.
"G-Gang Warrior? You okay? So-hyang! So-hyang!! You said it was fine...! Something's wrong—"
One sip to tears streaming; Song Seol-ryeong shook So-hyang in alarm.
Fine, nothing weird...!
"Oh ho...?"
Conversely, So-hyang's eyes sparkled with interest at Gang Pyo's teary gaze.
"Hoo, what's this now?"
Even True Person Qinghe, savoring rare buzz, removed eyepatch to peer.
Visible only to two transcendent in 'sight'...
A harbinger.
Gang Pyo eyed cup through tears, slowly bringing to lips—unlike before.
Not gulping, but gently rolling as True Person did.
Slowly, slowly.
"-Haaaa..."
Swallow one, exhale liquor-scented breath long.
Sip again.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Eyelids heavy down, posture to lotus.
"...Huh?"
Song Seol-ryeong, tugging So-hyang tearfully, now blank-faced at oddity.
Lotus not for circulation meditation.
Just inward gaze.
Decades-stagnant inaction.
So-hyang's aid crossed wall, built unimaginable tower.
She said ready made it meaningful; he hadn't truly accepted.
Without Non-Sword, Yu Hyeon-oh's Demon Eye stimulus, unreachable alone.
Forced realm.
-He thought.
But liquor prompted reflection.
Lifetime experience, habits, tastes—he scarcely knew himself.
Yet perspective shifts world.
What is 'own power'?
Humans lean on others—'' shows it.
Master's arts and teachings—own power?
Merchant's gifted elixir filling dantian—own?
Even body and mind from parents—own?
Independence not isolation; warrior not solo strong.
Naught purely solo.
No reason belittle Non-Sword insight as not self-awakened.
Current self: fruit of Gang Pyo's path and bonds; feel gratitude, not shame.
"...Just, thanks."
Murmur, palm open slow.
Toward sword beside table.
Not priceless sharp, but precious love-sword from late master.
-Wuuuuuung.
Sword sang clear, leaping to grip.
"...Telekinesis!?"
Song Seol-ryeong's eyes bulged, unmasked shock.
Qi disperses outside; psychokinesis-like pull exceedingly hard.
Telekinesis alone great feat; this higher.
"Child, not telekinesis."
True Person Qinghe petted her head softly, explaining cosmic-gleam vision.
"...Eeeeek!?"
Sect elder outranked by Wudang's top elder petting her; trembling burdened, yet curiosity spurred question.
Curiosity potent.
"...Hic, th-then wh-what is it, m-may I ask...!"
Speech glitched, but bold for her.
"Heighten qi sense. Feel inner force link man and sword?"
Telekinesis: extend qi to lift.
"Oh, now that you say...!?"
Should have qi thread; none between Gang Pyo and sword.
"Th-Then...?"
Hope plain on face; True Person Qinghe beamed.
"Sword Qi Control, of course!"
Realm linking sword to mind, wielding freely as limb.
Shen (spirit) mature to project outside.
Qi drawing nature's maximally.
Jing refining bones, shedding skin to contain.
Gang Pyo gripped flown sword, rose from lotus, assumed stance.
-Kiiiiing!
Sword sang clear and fierce.
Shattering.
His unique pinnacle, sans transcendent.
Dull blade? Hundred, thousand swings in one—naught unbreakable.
Just lacked true target till now.
What to shatter: not obstructing walls.
True Shattering: shed skin recoiled upon.
Obstructing dullard's narrow sight.
In essence.
"The chains binding me."
One sword rising bottom-up, carp defying river.
Cleaving not air, but heart's chains.
Law-joy surging, essence's freedom touching body and soul, Gang Pyo's mind entered rapture.
-----
*Crunch* *Crack* *Shatter* *Rippp!*
Floating midair, Gang Pyo's body collapsed and reformed, tore and snapped, reknit and filled.
Expansion for swollen Shen and dense Qi: Bone Transformation process.
So-hyang aided his metamorphosis, palm open infusing vitalizing spiritual energy of liveliness.
"Huu, splendid."
Her face beamed joy, cheeks flushed as blood quickened with anticipation.
Upright warrior shattering self-chains, transcending great realm.
How sharp the sword's echo severing self-imposed bonds?
What blade from lifelong talent-bound swordsman overcoming limits?
Curious, curious, endlessly.
Yearning to clash swords.
And at end, inspiration propelling her higher.
As prime catalyst to his heights, this reward justified.
"...Gulp."
So-hyang swallowed rising saliva, excitement bare.
Appetite, lust, sleep—supremacy's prime desire topped all.
Too eager, breaths uncontained.
"Haa, haaa..."
Usually bottled madness leaked wildly.
"Eek, suddenly chilly...?"
"Hahaha! Miss So-hyang! My hands tremble! Amazing, no?"
Lesser minds uncomprehending, bodies alone shivered unease.
"...Ngh!"
"Ho ho..."
Transcendents faced bottomless dread directly, cowed.
"...Poor lad."
"Indeed."
Unable to aid, they pitied Bone Transforming Gang Pyo.
Flinch.
Imagination? Floating body subtly quivered amid destruction-repair.