Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: Main Enemy (6)
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“Why are you seeking Yeom Seoksan again now?”
The conversation had already gone off the rails anyway.
Han Sangja owed no explanations to Cheon Wi whatsoever.
Yet Han Sangja was answering his questions like some enlightened immortal granting wisdom to a seeker. Cheon Wi decided to milk this opportunity for all it was worth.
“Because his spiritual power is needed for the Twin Kings ritual. Gold Diviner, that’s correct, isn’t it?”
And Han Sangja actually answered.
He seemed to have even given up on the golden four-eyed mask behind him. The four-eyed mask nodded.
“That is correct, young immortal.”
Back to square one.
Why cast out the very person they needed?
Cheon Wi asked again.
“Is Yeom Seoksan absolutely essential?”
Han Sangja didn’t answer right away.
It was bizarre, but a proper conversation nonetheless.
Cheon Wi pondered if his words held any sway. Han Sangja shook his head and replied gravely.
“The Ritual Hall has grown rowdy. They apparently didn’t need him as a Diviner at first, but the situation has changed. He’s an excellent Diviner. There’s no one better suited to overseeing the yokai power of the Ritual Hall.”
“This is still hard to follow. What is na-rye, and what sort of place is the Ritual Hall?”
“You impudent mortal. What is your name?”
“Great One.”
“I know that’s a lie. What a half-hearted alias.”
“I think so too.”
“How about combining the two characters into ‘Heaven’?”
Cheon Wi stared straight into Han Sangja’s eyes. The eyes behind the mask were clear and profound.
Immortals were like that—beings with supernatural powers beyond mortal explanation.
It felt inevitable, as if he knew, yet coincidental, as if he’d guessed blindly.
“My name is Great One.”
“Does that matter? I’ll call you Heaven Young Master. If you turn your head when I call, that’s your name—what else could it be?”
“Like Eight Sages Han Sangja?”
“That truly is my name.”
He was mad, that much was true.
Cheon Wi gave up predicting.
Han Sangja spilled secrets freely, answering whatever Cheon Wi asked.
It made no sense.
Who in the martial world would blab about their sect’s affairs in front of a hostile foe?
The conversation had lost its way regardless.
Cheon Wi decided to go all in.
He even changed his stance and speech.
“Then allow me to apologize. I failed to recognize you as a true immortal and spoke carelessly. Yeom Seoksan is merely a father sadly searching for his daughter. If you didn’t kill him but merely drove him away, isn’t leaving him be the merciful path? As an immortal, Eight Sages Han Sangja, show your compassion and return her to him. Yeom Seoksan desires nothing more.”
Han Sangja stared piercingly at Cheon Wi.
It was an absurd demand, to say the least.
Such words were only uttered from a position of overwhelming advantage.
Han Sangja didn’t scoff.
“Heaven Young Master, your words weave truth and lies with cunning skill, but as a cultivated immortal, I must accept them broadly. I accept your apology. However, I cannot return Ha Seongo.”
“She bears the name Seol, not Ha Seongo.”
“No, she is Ha Seongo now. One of us.”
Han Sangja raised the jade flute in his hand.
“Does that mean she’ll wear a mask too?”
“Our question and answer is over. A master approaches. It’s time for you, Heaven Young Master, to depart the mortal world. Among human desires, the thirst for knowledge runs deeper than most. To meet death with unresolved doubts risks becoming a wandering soul adrift for eternity. I achieved immortality first, so from a master’s position, I’ve taught you plenty.”
Han Sangja was mad, but no fool.
The jade flute pointed at Cheon Wi.
He intended to kill.
That explained why he’d answered every question.
“With that level of internal energy, ascension is impossible anyway.”
Han Sangja moved.
Peeeng!
The jade flute sliced through the air, producing a sharp whistle as it pierced the space.
Parak!
Cheon Wi leaped back.
‘Fast!’
Far sharper than anticipated. One misstep and it would impale him. The flute’s tip felt needle-sharp.
He somehow dodged the first strike.
The next was impossible.
Puk!
The jade flute stabbed into Cheon Wi’s shoulder.
‘Pressure point strike!’
Han Sangja’s internal energy was utterly refined. It infiltrated his meridians. Strength drained from his left arm.
Piyuyuyung!
The whistle rang clear.
The flute curved slyly, striking above his knee.
Plop.
Cheon Wi dropped to his right knee.
‘This guy’s the real deal.’
Merely three exchanges.
In just three, his mobility was crippled.
Combat ineffective. His left arm dangled limp, and his entire right leg refused to respond.
He barely held himself up on one leg. Cheon Wi straightened his torso as best he could and looked up at Han Sangja.
Eight Sages, he’d called himself.
This masked group seemed to possess martial prowess matching their notoriety.
“Go in peace.”
Han Sangja said in feigned sorrow.
The jade flute dropped toward Cheon Wi’s head.
Twitch.
Strength trickled from the sealed acupoint.
Pabak! Peubok!
The flute struck not his head, but the ground. The force plunged deep, cratering the earth and kicking up dust.
“How did you break the Jade Flute Blood Seal?”
Even Cheon Wi was astonished.
He’d clearly been struck. Han Sangja’s energy had rattled his leg’s major acupoints entirely. His thigh and calf muscles were fully numb.
Yet when he willed it to move, it did.
Perfectly.
Cheon Wi rose to his feet.
He lifted his left arm. It moved too. The seal was undone.
“You call yourself an immortal, yet your hand is brutally cruel?”
Cheon Wi stepped back further, testing his arms and legs.
Fully free.
As if he’d never been sealed at all.
“The Jade Flute Blood Seal cannot be undone even by the Nine Great Sects’ internal arts. How did a weakling like you break through the acupoint?”
Acupoint, he said.
Insight struck suddenly.
The answer lay in those two characters. Acupoints were the paths of blood in the body.
Blood pooled, flowed, and enabled qi.
Pressure point strikes blocked those paths with energy. An exquisite one was like locking a padlock in the center.
To release it required shattering the lock with powerful internal energy or using precise qi circulation as a key.
That was the norm. Energy countered with energy. Expel the invading force. No one thought to use the blood flowing within that path. Or rather, they didn’t know how.
Cheon Wi was different.
He commanded his blood to open the path.
What he’d deemed a curse was no curse at all. It enabled much.
“You should train your pressure points more.”
Cheon Wi retorted.
A provocation.
Han Sangja kicked off the ground again.
Too formidable to taunt recklessly.
Piiiiiing!
The flute’s whistle heightened.
Peubok!
Cheon Wi saw it coming but couldn’t fully dodge. He barely yielded some distance. Beyond the acupoint, the shock rippling through his body was immense. His flank’s Yanggang point and thigh’s Fengshi point clamped shut. His waist buckled involuntarily, legs wobbling.
Piyung!
The next couldn’t be allowed.
This time, his knee didn’t buckle. Blood surged fiercely through his leg, unlocking the point. He tensed and twisted his body.
Han Sangja’s jade flute grazed his nape. Speed and force were tremendous. His skin burned as if slashed by a blade.
“Released again?”
Han Sangja’s composed tone cracked for the first time.
No fluke. No misaim. A precise strike, instantly nullified.
That wasn’t all.
The jade flute wielded the Patrolling Wine Flower Carving Immortal Flower Heart Skill. Shaking acupoints was secondary; the raw impact rivaled an iron rod.
Yet the foe retreated immediately, regaining stance.
Like sparring a wooden training dummy, not a living man. Come to think of it, his vital energy felt eerily faint. Peering with immortal eyes at his qi, it was abnormal. Han Sangja demanded.
“You. What are you?”
His speech had finally shifted.
Cheon Wi, ironically, maintained decorum.
“Who knows.”
“Not human?”
“Are immortals human?”
Cheon Wi retreated another step.
Not that he was unscathed—the seal undone, but the flute’s blows had torn muscles and cracked ribs. Regeneration raged fiercely from within. Bones knitting, flesh mending. He was grateful Han Sangja spoke first.
“Your qi usage resembles yokai. A human-yokai hybrid?”
Han Sangja ignored Cheon Wi’s question.
Fine by him.
Han Sangja had handed over another crucial piece of intel.
From an espionage view, such sloppiness was unparalleled. Likely because he was confident of killing Cheon Wi. But Cheon Wi had no intention of dying.
“If you’re truly enlightened, shouldn’t you see through such things?”
Here it came.
Han Sangja no longer feigned lofty immortality.
Left Bow Stance, Forward Step.
Even an immortal’s breath carried killing intent.
Piyuuu.
The jade flute cleaved air with a melodic hum. Straight at his centerline, honest yet vicious with embedded force. Aiming to shatter the Jueque point and crush the heart. Not mere intent—reality. No seal, but blood rupture. To demolish Jueque and pulverize the heart.
‘Can’t dodge...!’
He saw it.
As Han Sangja’s strikes grew savage, a weakness opened within.
Left Qimen point. Too deep for Cheon Wi’s arts to target.
An unreachable flaw wasn’t a flaw. No point dwelling.
Counterattack abandoned. He twisted his waist with all his might.
Peubok! Ujjeok!
Cheon Wi’s body flew backward.
No longer a flute—this was a mace. Nearly healed ribs snapped anew. Breath caught. But he could move.
Piiing!
The flute’s whistle pursued instantly.
Left hand braced the ground, hurling his body aside.
Pararak! Jjiik!
The flute tore only cloth.
First perfect evasion. Han Sangja was stunned again.
“What...!”
‘Still incomplete.’
Cheon Wi was certain.
Han Sangja was no enlightened immortal. Mask, arts, heart skill—all flawed.
The moment his speech slipped, so did his mind.
Seals ineffective, blows insufficient. Cheon Wi leaped freely. Rattled, Han Sangja lost his serene immortal aura to killing rage. True techniques waned without serene mind to support. Cheon Wi exploited that flaw masterfully.
“Your energy faltered at the Victory Pass point. A pity you lack a second hand.”
“How do you know that!”
Words held power.
Declaring a weakness spotted was weapon enough.
Han Sangja couldn’t conceal his shock.
The mask was eerie and strong, yet bizarre and sloppy. Even the wariness a martial artist ought to possess was devoured by the mask’s identity.