Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Chapter 6: Espionage Squad (7)
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‘Is the difference really this vast?’
Just by gaining power and speed, so many things had changed dramatically.
So this was the world of martial artists who diligently built up their internal energy. He felt it keenly. He realized it on a profound level.
The black-clad swordsman’s openings were laid bare before his eyes.
He had seen them before, but back then, the flaws Cheonwi could exploit were limited. They were like diseases amid flames—visible, but untouchable.
Not anymore.
He could inflict a fatal wound with a strike anywhere.
The man assumed a stance and leveled his sword at him.
Any practitioner of martial arts would instinctively know if their skills could match an opponent. If they couldn’t sense it after a few exchanges, it was either because their own ability was sorely lacking or because they were a fool.
The black-clad swordsman ahead didn’t seem like a fool. Tension already filled his face.
With Cheonwi before him, he had sensed the insurmountable wall.
‘If this keeps up…’
Cheonwi worried the other one might flee in fear.
He needed to appear even weaker.
Exhaling once, he caressed the stump of his right arm with his left hand.
As if feeling the pain.
He deliberately left the Changmun acupoint on his left side wide open.
The tip of the man’s sword twitched.
Such a massive opening had appeared out of nowhere. The man must have suspected a trap. Far from foolish, he was sharp enough to hold back.
‘Not easy.’
How could one subdue an opponent stronger than oneself?
Cheonwi’s life up to now had been the very answer to that question.
He had always hidden his faint streams of qi power well. When he achieved perfect emptiness, he could even erase his vital energy. Enemies would then hesitate to attack recklessly.
Ending a fight without clashing was the priority. That mattered far more to Cheonwi.
If combat proved unavoidable, every single exchange became the turning point.
Weaknesses exposed by a lack of internal energy served as bait to lure predictable first moves. Once the enemy committed, they attacked without hesitation, seeing him as frail. That complacency limited their options, allowing him to counter and pierce their guard.
This time was the opposite.
The enemy sensed they held the disadvantage.
The same trick wouldn’t work.
It had to feel more natural.
Pretending to hastily adjust his stance, he darted low.
He knew the black-clad swordsman’s swordsmanship. Aiming low here would make the man twist his waist left to reset his centerline.
Shiiik!
Next came a diagonal downward slash.
Dodging left and countering upward with palm force from the right hand would fully expose the elbow. An opening. Cheonwi shifted into a left guard stance. The man’s body stiffened. He knew this was an opening too.
A hesitation.
Cheonwi twitched his right shoulder.
As if only now realizing his right arm was gone.
Making it seem like he couldn’t capitalize on the opening despite seeing it.
The moment of rigidity passed.
The man twisted his body desperately, swinging his broadsword wildly.
An opening was like a lifeline.
Realizing one had been spotted usually shattered a warrior’s composure.
That was the time to draw them in.
“Keuk!”
Feigning frustration at missing the chance, Cheonwi hurriedly retreated. As he did, he exposed the Gyeol acupoint on his right shoulder.
The man couldn’t ignore it this time.
Having nearly fallen for an opening himself, he had to strike any flaw he saw.
The man stomped forward with all his might, thrusting his broadsword.
Puk!
Cheonwi had no intention of letting a vital point get pierced outright.
In an instant, he dropped his torso, taking the blade two inches above the acupoint.
Sighs and screams rose from the onlookers around them.
Even for the people of Taewon Prefecture, seasoned in watching brawls, the sight of a long sword embedding itself in a man’s flesh was a rare and gruesome spectacle—one that naturally drew cries.
“Euk!”
It was no different for Cheonwi.
Cold metal tearing through flesh and lodging in the body was hardly a pleasant experience.
Above all, the pain was excruciating. A groan escaped his lips unbidden.
Tadak!
And then.
The real fight began now.
He planted his rear foot firmly, pivoting his front foot to brace his upper body.
His left hand channeled a variant form of the Eight Channels Golden Snare. Cheonwi’s grip coiled around the black-clad swordsman’s wrist.
Wooduk!
The man’s wrist twisted at an unnatural angle.
He dropped his sword. With the man’s blade still buried in his shoulder, Cheonwi advanced half a step. Their bodies nearly overlapped. He slammed his left hand downward. Pang Clan’s True Armor-Shattering Strike. At this range, no one would recognize it.
Ujikeun! Kwarik!
A grotesque sound erupted from the man’s thigh.
“Uaaak!”
The man who hadn’t even groaned when his wrist was ruined now screamed with his mouth wide open.
It was warranted. The thickest bone in the body had been shattered.
You stab your sword into someone? Time to feel some pain yourself.
Clutching his leg with both hands, the man rolled on the ground.
Cheonwi kicked off the earth. The broadsword dangled from his back.
The commoners scrambled out of his way.
He sped out of the arena. Countless eyes followed his back.
As he ran, he glanced at his left hand.
The sensation was utterly bizarre.
He had mastered the Armor-Shattering Strike form over a decade ago. But the Armor-Shattering Strike prioritized technique over mere form. And that technique couldn’t be executed with a body lacking internal energy. Without it, no matter the form, it was little more than slapping with all one’s palm might. It required internal energy to push and pull, layering power.
He had long used a modified version.
A probing art that pierced flaws with minimal force, preserving the form’s advantages without channeling qi through the meridians. That had been his Armor-Shattering Strike.
But this was no frills-added variant.
He had used the pure, original Armor-Shattering Strike.
Instead of drawing up internal energy, he had manifested meridian channeling through enhanced muscle strength. He expected it to approximate the original power.
Thus, he anticipated tearing the thigh muscles.
Disabling mobility to prevent pursuit.
The result exceeded that.
Not just muscles—bones shattered too.
Power beyond imagination.
Much to learn. First, he needed to adapt to this body.
‘Not following?’
Cheonwi halted mid-stride.
Had the final Armor-Shattering Strike been too strong? he wondered.
“Kuhuk.”
A cough came suddenly.
The broadsword’s blade had pierced through his shoulder and protruded from his back.
The tip must have nicked the upper lung. With each cough, bloody foam bubbled out.
He wiped his mouth with his left hand. His palm was instantly soaked in blood.
‘Watch closely.’
A cautious one.
Far off on the wall, he was observing Cheonwi intently.
“Kuhuk! Kuhuk!”
Bloody froth splattered to the ground.
‘That should look fatal.’
Only after seeing Cheonwi cough blood did the man descend from the wall and close the distance.
‘That’s it.’
Cheonwi ran again.
He left the blade in. Now wasn’t the time to pull it.
People scattered in alarm.
Using building shadows for cover, Cheonwi threw himself into the outskirts’ greenery.
Taewon Prefecture was a developed city, but venture just a bit outward and dense forest paths abounded. The man followed well. Cheonwi modulated his speed, keeping ahead. Foot traffic dwindled. Passing dark grassy trails lined with tall brush, he reached the riverbank. No signs of life remained. Nothing here but, far upstream, a few flower boats for entertainment drifting on the water.
Here.
He collapsed before the marshy riverfront.
He gripped the broadsword’s hilt protruding from shoulder to back. Each sway tore at his flesh. His body kept trying to heal the wound. That hurt more. Regeneration pain.
As long as the blade remained embedded, full recovery was impossible.
Healing flesh got sliced anew, fresh layers building atop. The blade became mired in muscle, clinging. That sensation was worse than the pain.
He yanked the hilt with all his strength.
Puaak! Psheushut!
A gush of red blood sprayed out.
Such a waste.
He thought it’d be nice if he could collect the blood pouring onto the ground and drink it.
Of course, a new urge.
A thirst unlike before reared its head. Cheonwi realized he must adapt not only to his changed body but to his shifting mind as well.
Suppressing the strange hunger, he bowed his head to inspect the wound.
No need for a close check.
The pierced hole had nearly closed already. Regeneration seemed twice as fast as before.
He had to at least pretend to seal the acupoints.
Hunching as if in agony. He couldn’t let on that the bleeding had stopped.
Sasasak!
A commendable attempt to approach silently.
Seemed experienced in ambushes.
But to Cheonwi’s ears, the man’s approach boomed like thunder. The power gained from blood reacted keenly to killing intent.
Sasak, shiiik!
The man lunged from behind.
Cheonwi vanished. The man’s dagger stabbed empty air.
“Heuk!”
Shock and terror flashed across his face with a strangled gasp.
Cheonwi was already behind him.
Puk.
As if only natural, the broadsword pierced the man’s back.
“How…?”
Cheonwi sensed he’d hear those words often from now on. He yanked the blade free from the man’s solar plexus.
“Kk, kkuruk.”
Life fled the man’s body in a rush.
Hududuk.
Blood gushing from chest and back painted the dirt.
The man’s body pitched forward.
Cheolbek.
Massive blood loss.
Blood sprayed as he tumbled. The metallic scent filled the air. Thirst rose.
But this man’s blood held no appeal.
Indeed.
Thirst was something even muddy water could quench.
But this blood wasn’t mere mudwater—it reeked like putrid sewage. He knew it would slake his thirst, yet leave his palate fouled with regret.
Someday, he’d have to drink without such qualms.
Not mere intuition.
Cheonwi glimpsed a hazy future.
With a small act of restraint, he quelled the great thirst.
Meanwhile, the man lay dying, gasping his last.
“Gek, keuuk.”
His body convulsed briefly, then stilled.
Cheonwi looked down at the corpse as if it had always been an object, not a freshly ended life. Stabbing someone in the back warranted death in turn—no strangeness there. Even accounting for that justice, he felt oddly detached.
Like killing a beast. Like slaying something inhuman. No—like an inhuman entity killing a human.
Instinct told him murder had grown easier than before.
Easier still to come.