Chapter 413: The Dark King’s Nightmare (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 413: The Dark King’s Nightmare (1)
The arrival of summer meant little to me. It would have been stranger if a simple change in temperature could alter the fundamental rhythms of my life. Still, the shifting seasons and weather marked the passage of time, a steady current I could feel flowing around me.
“Whew.”
I took a short break, my body cooling down after a brutal training session. As I rested, the scene before me burned with intensity. While I was stationary, the air itself was thick with the heat radiating from other martial artists.
Clang! Clang-clang!
The sharp, percussive sound of blades clashing filled the air. A breeze carried the dense, electric feel of potent Qi.
The source was a sparring match between Namgung Bi-ah and the Sleeping Dragon. One might wonder why they were suddenly crossing swords. It had become something of a trend, unintentionally started on the day the White Ripple Sword caused her big scene.
And I was here, watching their duel with a detached sense of entertainment.
This is a first.
A spar between those two. The Sleeping Dragon and Namgung Bi-ah. In my past life, these two geniuses had never met. By the time Namgung Bi-ah made her debut in the Central Plains, the Sleeping Dragon was already long dead. So, witnessing their clash right before my eyes was a fascinating novelty.
Moreover,
It’s extremely fierce.
Their battle was intense. It reminded me of when the White Ripple Sword had fought the girls, but this was different. Their levels were too similar, creating a far tenser atmosphere. Both were at the perfected stage of the Peak Realm. They still had a wall to break through to reach Fusion, but they were far from weak.
Clang! Their swords met, scattering sparks into the air. The trails of their Qi lingered visibly in their wake.
And they were fast. As sword specialists who both prioritized speed, their physical movements and decision-making were breathtakingly sharp.
My gaze settled on the Sleeping Dragon, Woo Hyuk. Even with my limited knowledge of his specific martial arts, one thing was clear.
Now that I look at it, his movements are incredibly harsh.
For a Taoist, his style felt unrefined and rough. Was this typical of the Wudang Sect?
Probably not.
That bastard was just special. I was certain of that. He felt distinctly different from other Taoists I’d encountered, like Yung Pung. The Plum Blossom Sword style wasn't known for harshness to begin with, but Yung Pung embodied a perfection of the basics, a loyalty to foundational principles.
In stark contrast, Woo Hyuk was a madman. He moved within his own unique framework, using the ‘Water Wave’ concept central to Wudang, but twisting it to his own will. Perhaps that was precisely why people had bestowed the title ‘Sleeping Dragon’ upon him. Only a true genius could perform such movements; it would be impossible for anyone else. He didn't just follow Wudang's Sword Art—he reinvented it, creating his own personalized style without any apparent drawbacks. While ordinary martial artists spent their lives trying to stay within the confines of their art's framework, the Sleeping Dragon thrived by breaking it. That was the mark of his genius.
The same could be said for his opponent.
Zaap! Lightning Qi poured relentlessly from Namgung Bi-ah’s body. I let out a hollow laugh at the absurd sight.
She’s improved again.
There was more Lightning Qi than the last time I saw her. Her reserves had grown. Did she secretly consume spirit herbs behind my back? Why did she get stronger every time I laid eyes on her?
Moreover, her control over the lightning…
The flow of her Lightning Qi was more efficient, with fewer wasted movements. She was growing more adept at wielding her power.
Not only that,
Her Mastery of the Sword feels denser, more profound.
She had also improved in her application of the Namgung Clan’s Secret Art. Seriously, Namgung Bi-ah—
“Every day, she gets—”
“Prettier, right?”
“Yes, pret—…!?”
I spun my head towards the voice that had suddenly intruded. The White Ripple Sword stood there, looking at me with a cheerful, impish smile.
“Agh!”
I shouted in shock, stumbling back a step. She made a theatrically hurt expression at my reaction.
“…My, my. You react as if you’ve seen a bug.”
“You can’t just materialize out of thin air like that…! You scared me.”
“Then should I announce my arrival by yelling, ‘Your escort has arrived~!’? Of course, an escort is supposed to be quiet.”
“You don’t have to startle the very person you’re escorting, you know.”
“They say you have to fool your allies first if you want to fool your enemies.”
I let out a deep sigh as she responded with that ever-present bright smile. That saying wasn’t meant for situations like this.
Why does this woman do this?
She had a habit of popping up out of nowhere, and it startled me every single time. I glared at her with clear displeasure. She seemed thoroughly satisfied by my reaction, which was incredibly annoying. She hadn't been this bad when I first met her… I didn't know how things had evolved to this point.
Over time, our relationship had shifted. To put it bluntly, my opinion of her had changed considerably.
For starters, she genuinely didn’t seem to care how I treated her.
…How should I even describe this?
Even though I was her junior, she showed no concern if I was a bit rude, so long as I didn't cross a line into outright harshness. To put it positively, she was magnanimous. To put it bluntly, she was a bit thick-skinned. Once I realized that, I found myself treating her a bit differently.
Even putting that aside…
My eyes drifted to the White Ripple Sword’s shoulder. I had placed a Shackle on her, by mutual agreement.
I never thought I’d actually use one on her.
She had told me to do it if I couldn't trust her, but I hadn't taken her completely seriously. She, better than anyone, should have known the danger of a Fusion Realm martial artist accepting a Shackle. Yet she had accepted it as if it were nothing. I couldn't comprehend why she would agree to such a term without knowing what I might do to her.
Thankfully, she had caused no further major trouble since then. But this arrangement had introduced a slight, persistent change in my daily life.
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“The spar between those two. Who do you think will win?”
Namely, I talked to the White Ripple Sword more often. It was part of her escort duty, but it also made my surroundings noisier. Given her personality, she frequently asked me strange questions. Like right now.
Who do I think will win?
I frowned slightly. It was a difficult question. The Sleeping Dragon and Namgung Bi-ah were strangely close in level. Both had perfected the Peak Realm and were standing before the wall to the Fusion Realm. For their age—barely over twenty—their talent was monstrous.
…I’m an exception.
Due to my regression, I was an outlier. Not that I was a genius to begin with. On average, martial artists who trained consistently and hard enough could reach the Peak Realm around thirty. It often took another ten years or more to perfect it. Judged by that standard, it was easy to see why the current generation's prodigies were called the Meteor Generation.
And those two in front of me?
They are already well above the level of typical Young Prodigies.
And I had to choose a winner?
…
Their levels were so similar. Yet, my gaze kept being drawn unusually towards Namgung Bi-ah.
Zap!
With a sharp crackle, her sword flux, intertwined with lightning, carved a vivid trail in the air. As I said, her Lightning Qi was incomparable to before.
Hmm.
But despite its power, her lightning failed to penetrate the defensive field around Woo Hyuk. It couldn't break through the wave-like Qi of Wudang.
He deflects it masterfully.
Flow was the foundation and the very essence of Wudang martial arts. Woo Hyuk's swordplay might have been rough and individualistic, but he still adhered to the sect's core principle of flow. He deflected his opponent's attacks as smoothly as water redirects a stone, always striking back with the returning force.
Woo Hyuk swung his sword, meeting Namgung Bi-ah's sword flux, and they exchanged blows in a rapid, relentless back-and-forth. Namgung Bi-ah's precise and overwhelming control of Qi was shocking, but Woo Hyuk's ability to neutralize and return every attack was equally astounding. Just watching them left me speechless.
These damned geniuses.
As expected, I found nothing particularly likable about them. I clicked my tongue and returned my focus to the spar.
The White Ripple Sword had asked me who I thought would win. I told her I didn't know, but instinctively, I did. My eyes, once again, settled on Namgung Bi-ah. She fought on with an unchanging expression, but I could sense it. The outcome of this fight.
“The Sword Dancer will lose.”
I believed Namgung Bi-ah would be defeated.
The White Ripple Sword's eyes widened, as if fascinated by my firm conviction. “That’s unexpected. You sound more certain than I thought…”
“Isn’t that why you asked? Because you thought the same thing?” I retorted with a sour look.
She smiled in response. “I thought you might give a different answer. You’re so fond of defending your own people.”
“There’s a time and place for that.”
“But you’re not denying that she’s one of your people, are you?”
“…”
I turned my face away, ignoring her playful jab. The spar continued, but my frown only deepened.
What’s the matter with her?
Outwardly, there seemed to be no problem. But I knew, and the White Ripple Sword probably knew too, that something was off with Namgung Bi-ah. Her destructive power and precise control were flawless, yet there was a subtle dissonance in her overall performance. I could faintly sense inner demons affecting her movements.
How could someone whose entire life was dedicated to the sword be struggling with inner demons? It confused me. I thought of the Demonic Sword from my past life. Her goal was to see the peak of the sword path, and she had marched toward it without any such spiritual struggles. Yet, the current Namgung Bi-ah was grappling with something internal. It didn't make sense.
The White Ripple Sword watched me as I pondered. Noticing the change in my expression, she spoke awkwardly. “Are you going to say something to her?”
“I have no plan to.”
She probably knew the reason as well as I did. That mysterious change in Namgung Bi-ah had occurred on the day she sparred against the White Ripple Sword, Tang Soyeol, and Wi Seol-Ah. Had she realized something during that fight? Was that the source of her current inner turmoil?
Even if that were the case,
…
There was nothing I could do for her. Nor did I have any reason to blame the White Ripple Sword. And instead of concern,
I feel glad about it, for some reason.
A part of me felt relieved that Namgung Bi-ah was facing inner demons. In my past life, she lived an almost inhuman existence, single-mindedly pursuing the pinnacle of the sword. Was I glad because this struggle made her seem more human, because her life was taking a different path from the one I remembered?
Of course, the person actually suffering through the inner demons probably isn't having a good time.
Namgung Bi-ah likely had her mind filled with complex thoughts, but witnessing it gave me a sense of relief. Moreover, I believed in her. I was confident she would overcome this trial without much trouble.
After staring at me for a moment, the White Ripple Sword pouted, seemingly dissatisfied with my expression. “I don’t like your expression.”
“All of a sudden?”
“You look… proud. It almost reminds me of…”
“Huh…?”
“Never mind. It’s nothing.”
Why cut off there? As we exchanged a few more words,
Clang!
A final, sharp clang signaled the end of the spar.
As I had predicted…
Woo Hyuk’s sword was poised at Namgung Bi-ah’s neck.
Her defeat.
Namgung Bi-ah looked up at Woo Hyuk, a flicker of shock in her eyes. I turned away from the sight.
“Hmm? Where are you going?” the White Ripple Sword called out.
“I saw everything I needed to see. I’m going to wash up.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to her?”
“There’s no need. It’s better to leave her alone for now.”
I probably could have helped resolve her issue, but that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted Namgung Bi-ah to overcome her challenges herself. I believed she could. The Namgung Bi-ah I had witnessed in this life made me certain.
No, she probably could have done the same in my past life, too.
The Demonic Sword likely possessed that same strength. I just hadn't known it back then.
As I began walking towards a nearby valley, I heard the White Ripple Sword whisper from behind.
“…You shouldn’t be similar to him, even in this regard.”
“Did you say something? I’m similar to who?”
“It’s nothing. Oh, if you’re going to wash up, do you want your big sis to help scr—”
“No need.”
I cut her off with disgust and quickly made my escape. That woman was truly insane. I shook my head and disappeared into the valley paths.
The White Ripple Sword watched Gu Yangcheon’s retreating back and whispered to herself with a bitter smile. “He’s similar… way too similar.”
Her voice was filled with a deep, palpable longing.
Leaving the nonsensical White Ripple Sword behind, I headed for a valley to wash off the sweat drenching my body. As I removed my clothes, I realized just how soaked they were. Since my Gu Flame Wheel Art had reached the Seventh Star, I rarely broke a sweat during ordinary training. But lately, I was sweating profusely every day. It was a testament to how grueling my current regimen had become.
I thought of the old man responsible for this hellish training and frowned.
This crazy old man.
The Dishonored Venerable was definitely insane. I hadn't fully grasped it during the first part of my Heaven Destruction Art training in the cave, but the second part made it abundantly clear.
I sparred against the Dishonored Venerable every single day. I’d thought I would get some respite during the day since I trained with the Dark King at night, but he had other plans.
—Until you learn the One Fist, we will spar every day.
There were no breaks.
And there was another, greater problem on top of that.
I have to fight him while using the Heaven Destruction Art?
It was ludicrous. The pain from merely activating the art was enough to make me faint. Using it during a spar, where I was constantly getting hit, multiplied the agony exponentially.
And here I am, doing exactly that just because he ordered me to.
I stretched my sore body, a bitter smile on my face. As expected, the pain was unbelievable.
This crazy martial art.
I suppose it made sense, since a madman had invented it. The art itself was insanely brutal. Just using it flooded my system with immense pain. Getting hit while channeling it only magnified the suffering.
The Dishonored Venerable claimed it was because my body hadn't fully harmonized with the Heaven Destruction Art. Judging by that explanation, I understood why he had forbidden me from using it in a real battle without his permission.
If I were seriously injured while using this thing…
My heart might just stop from the pain alone. I’d had serious second thoughts every time the Dishonored Venerable struck me during these sessions. Thanks to that, I had to pour all of my focus into simply enduring the agony.
And at night… I have to play with the Dark King?
Haha. How utterly absurd. He might as well just tell me to die.
If sparring with the Dishonored Venerable was pure pain, then training with the Dark King was a nightmare.
Yes. A nightmare. Literally.
Over the past month, the number of times I’ve ‘died’ in the Dark King’s training had only increased. I died nine times on the first night. Now, I was easily dying more than twenty times per session. It almost felt like the Dark King was taunting me, implying I would never reach his level no matter how hard I tried. The mental exhaustion was overwhelming. It truly seemed like there was no answer, no way to win.
What am I supposed to gain from such a training?
The Dishonored Venerable clearly intended for me to learn something from this, but I had no idea what. What possible lesson could be found in dying dozens of times? I couldn't fathom it, no matter how much I thought about it.
This is difficult.
The mental fatigue seemed to seep into my very bones, draining me physically as well. I pushed these heavy thoughts aside and finally reached the valley.
Someone else had already been there. I saw a figure approaching, having just finished washing.
“Hmm?”
“Ah—”
It was Wi Seol-Ah. Her hair was soaking wet.
“Young Master Gu…!”
Wi Seol-Ah’s face lit up with a bright smile when she saw me. It seemed to shine even more brightly than usual. The sight reminded me of when she was my servant, greeting me with a similar smile, her hair damp after her baths.
Driven by that memory, I walked over and began roughly drying her hair with a towel.
“Hmm? Y-Young Master? Eek!”
“You should! Dry off! Completely! Before you leave!” I scolded, punctuating each word with a rub. There were other men around who would surely stare if she wandered out like this. Why was she still so careless about this?
After a moment of squealing, Wi Seol-Ah subtly leaned into my rough handling, as if she found it comforting. How absurd.
“You like this?”
“Yes… I do.”
“…Oh, is that so.”
My attempt to tease her had backfired, leaving me with nothing else to say. As I continued drying her hair, a realization struck me.
…I could’ve just used my heat to dry her.
What was I doing fiddling with a towel when I could have done it instantly? As soon as the thought occurred, I put the towel away and channeled a wave of gentle heat.
Wi Seol-Ah, however, looked strangely disappointed.
“You should dry yourself properly. What were you doing?”
“I was going to start now…”
“That’s a lie, right?”
“…”
After a moment’s hesitation, Wi Seol-Ah gave a slight, reluctant nod. She was still terrible at lying. Perhaps because of my scolding, she wore a sad expression. I smirked and changed the subject.
“Do you want a yakgwa?”
“Ah…!”
Her eyes instantly sparkled at the mention of the honey pastry, but she quickly turned her head away. “I-I’m not a kid… anymore.”
“What about that reaction just now?”
“I didn’t react at all.”
It seemed she still had a sweet tooth. I just couldn't understand why she felt the need to pretend otherwise. I smiled to myself, watching her. This small interaction was a welcome break from my earlier heavy thoughts.
Wi Seol-Ah stared at me, and for an instant, a strange expression crossed her face.
Swish—
She reached out and carefully touched my eyelid. Her fingers were cold from the water.
“What’s wrong? Was something there?”
“No… it’s not that… but Young Master Gu. Are you feeling alright?”
“Hmm? Why do you ask?”
“…You look exhausted.”
Her expression was full of pity as she asked. Her words startled me.
Exhausted? Did I really look that bad?
Is it that noticeable?
Lately, almost everyone I met asked me the same thing. There must have been something visibly wrong with my expression. Realizing this, I forced a smile.
“I’m fine.”
“…”
Of course, Wi Seol-Ah didn’t believe me. But what else could I do? I just had to endure it. The pain was simply part of the process.
“I’ve just had some nightmares recently. That’s all.”
“Nightmares?”
“Yes.”
A very nasty nightmare, repeated every night. Even for me, dying that many times was taking its toll. I was exhausted. That was the only thing I could feel right now.
I looked at Wi Seol-Ah, who was still brushing my cheek with a worried look, and spoke again. “You… No. Wi Seol-…”
“Huh?”
I closed my mouth, hesitating. Why was it so difficult to just say her name?
“It’s not an important question… What would you do if you had nightmares every night?”
I ended up asking a stupid question. It wasn’t really about nightmares at all. I had just changed the subject because I felt awkward saying her name.
Unaware of my internal conflict, Wi Seol-Ah tilted her head in thought. Her damp hair swayed with the movement, which I found oddly distracting.
“Nightmare…?”
“Don’t worry about it, it was just a foolish—”
“Wouldn’t you try to wake up from it…? Since a nightmare is a scary dream.”
I smiled faintly at her simple, straightforward answer. Technically, she wasn't wrong. If you knew you were in a nightmare, you would try to—
Huh?
Her words sparked something in my mind.
I have to wake up from a nightmare.
For some reason, that simple phrase struck a deep chord within me.