A Lesson in the Dark
“Jiangshi?”
It was a monster passed down through ancient legends.
Long ago, the Esoteric Cult—an occult sect that once sowed chaos across the Central Plains—had used them as hounds. It was a sinister craft that animated corpses and turned them into mindless puppets. In this day and age, of course, no one believed such stories. They were little more than ghost tales meant to tease or frighten young children.
“Stop bullshitting!”
The claim was absurd enough that Namgung Geol, listening in, rejected it with a violent outburst.
“Is that so?”
Namgung Yun’s reaction, however, was dull to the point of disinterest.
“Hyung-nim?”
Seo Won-gil blinked, taken aback. “…I never expected you to swallow it so readily.”
“You bitch when someone doesn't believe you, and you bitch when they do.”
From Yun’s perspective, there was no reason to doubt it. Ridiculous though walking corpses might be, could they possibly be more shocking than waking up in someone else’s body? At the end of the day, it's just a dead body shuffling around. With his worldview already twisted beyond recognition, the mere concept of a jiangshi failed to elicit even a ripple of surprise. If anything, he felt a wave of relief now that his questions were answered. The wooden, puppet-like gait, the foul black blood—it all made sense once he knew they were no longer human.
“Did you make them?”
“Indeed. I created them using the knowledge left behind by a great pioneer.”
“And who might that be?”
“A supreme figure known as Yoma.”
“Yoma? The Yoma?” Namgung Geol gasped, his face pale with horror. “That wicked devil who used living people as human test subjects during the Demon Cult’s invasion?!”
Yun inwardly mused. It seemed Yoma’s notoriety had not waned with the passage of time. Back during the grand invasion of the Central Plains, the fiend had been as infamous as the reigning Heavenly Demon or Yun’s own youthful identity, the Unfeeling Sword Demon—and far more despised, with every righteous hero yearning to tear him apart tooth and nail.
“Are you a remnant of the Demon Cult, then?” Yun asked.
“No. I discovered the secrets he left behind in a sanctuary he had secretly prepared. It was destiny! How else could I have stumbled upon his hidden domain?”
Then he has no idea whether Yoma ever returned to the Demon Cult or not.
“From that day forth, I became his true successor and devoted myself to researching the jiangshi arts,” Seo Won-gil declared, spreading his arms wide to showcase the hulking corpses around him. “And behold! I have achieved undeniable results! Yet, it is still not enough. While they might overwhelm greenhorns who aren't even worthy of being called rising stars, they cannot match true masters.”
“Is that why you abducted the children?” Yun asked, his eyes drifting toward the coffins arranged in the room.
“A child’s vitality burns with unparalleled vigor. If I extract and refine that life force, I can forge far superior jiangshi.”
“Vitality, you say. That means they are still breathing?” Yun pressed. One could hardly harvest life force from the dead.
“Of course.”
That was the best news Yun had heard all night.
“Hehehe. Did you honestly think you could save them?”
“Naturally.”
“Hah! Go ahead and try. For now, they are merely placed in a state of suspended animation through medicine. In time, they will awaken in perfect health. That is, assuming you bastards manage to survive and rescue them, of course.”
Seo Won-gil raised a hand. At the gesture, the surrounding jiangshi lurched into motion.
“In truth, those children are merely expendable fuel for life force. The real centerpieces are the two of you.”
“You intend to turn us into jiangshi.”
“I have long desired jiangshi forged from the corpses of martial artists. They will be exponentially stronger than these shells made from common rabble. And once reinforced with the children's vitality, their power will be unmatched.”
In that instant, Yun finally understood why Seo Won-gil had slipped him the Seven-Fold Traceless Poison in the first place.
He was after Namgung Yun's flesh all along.
Had the poison worked as intended, the original Namgung Yun would have suffered a fatal qi deviation while attempting to circulate his internal energy. In the modern Namgung Clan, tainted by the doctrine of the strong, not a single soul would have spared a glance at his passing. They would have written it off as an incompetent fool dying from his own inadequacy—if anything, they might have rejoiced at the quiet disposal of a clan disgrace. The body would have been buried in the ground, and Seo Won-gil would have dug it up under cover of night.
No one cared about Namgung Yun, so the disappearance of his corpse would have gone unnoticed.
However, Seo Won-gil’s flawed preparation of the Seven-Fold Traceless Poison had thrown the entire scheme into disarray.
Who do you have to blame but your own incompetence?
The man had not received direct instruction from Yoma or an authentic disciple; he had merely taught himself from abandoned research notes. In that light, bungling the recipe was hardly surprising. Still, for someone who called himself a physician and handled medicinal ingredients daily, botching the poison blend was an unforgivable failure. He had no right to feel wronged.
Now, the real issue is those jiangshi concocted by this half-baked quack.
Just how complete were they? More importantly, how dangerous were they in combat?
Even in my past life, I never once fought a jiangshi.
Still, dispatching the one earlier had revealed a single indisputable truth.
Sever the neck, and it dies.
Against creatures of this sort, that single piece of knowledge was all he needed.
“Try it if you can,” Yun taunted coolly.
“Do not grow arrogant simply because you ambushed a single specimen! That was the very first jiangshi I ever created. Due to countless trials and errors, it was by far the weakest among them!”
Namgung Geol’s complexion turned stark white. The sheer, vice-like grip that had pinned his limbs moments ago had been terrifyingly overwhelming. And to hear that it belonged to the weakest of the bunch?
Yet Yun’s expression did not waver in the slightest.
“Even taking that into account, it was far too fragile. A slab of boiled pork would offer more resistance than your puppet. If the rest are only marginally better, I can’t say I expect much.”
“Spout whatever nonsense you please! These are jiangshi born of Yoma’s supreme genius! Crushing runts like you will be child's play!”
“Then it must be your craftsmanship that’s lacking. No matter how brilliant the blueprint, if the artisan is trash, the final product is bound to be garbage.”
Seo Won-gil’s face flushed an ugly, furious crimson. Yun’s casual barbs had struck him right where it hurt most: his intellectual vanity.
“To think the inheritor of his legacy is a wretched hack like you,” Yun continued smoothly. “If Yoma were watching from the underworld, he’d probably be wailing in despair.”
“You dare wag your tongue so freely?! Let us see if you can still mouth off once your soul is ripped away and you're bound to my command!”
“Geol, listen up,” Yun said, cutting through the villain’s tirade. “I'm going to teach you an important lesson.”
Speaking not only as an elder brother of the clan, but as a venerable senior of the martial world, Yun spoke with utter composure.
“In this world, people who bark about what they'll do 'later' are never dangerous. When you run into vermin like that, you don't fret. You just swat them down like flies.”
“Kill them!” Seo Won-gil roared. “Do not inflict excessive damage to their flesh!”
“My, how thoughtful,” Yun remarked dryly. “Sounds like you don't even plan on winning.”
“For the likes of you, restraint is more than enough!”
At the physician's shriek, the jiangshi surged forward. Their movements remained jerky and stiff, resembling life-sized wooden puppets, yet their speed was unnervingly swift. In the blink of an eye, they vaulted over the coffins resting in the center of the chamber and closed the distance.
“Uwaaaagh!” Namgung Geol screamed in sheer terror.
Even with a sword in hand, he doubted he could overcome these abominations. Yet here he stood, disarmed and helpless. He had already proven that his bare fists were utterly useless against their stone-hard flesh.
“Relax your body,” Yun muttered calmly.
Grabbing Geol by the scruff of his collar, Yun pivoted smoothly on his heel. The jiangshi snapped around, lunging right behind them.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Fists tore through the air with the vicious shriek of gale winds. Faced with the oncoming onslaught, Geol squeezed his eyes shut in blind panic.
Clang-clang-clang-clang!
A storm of sharp, metallic shrieks rang out, yet the bone-crushing impact he braced for never arrived. Trembling, Geol cracked his eyes open.
Thwack!
“Aaargh!”
A sharp, throbbing agony exploded across the crown of his skull. It wasn't a blow from a jiangshi—had a corpse struck him, he wouldn't be standing here rubbing his head with mere pain. With tears prickling his eyes, Geol looked up to see Yun glaring down at him.
“Where the hell do you get off closing your eyes?! Did the bastard who taught you martial arts drill that pathetic habit into you?! Whether a fist caves your skull, a blade pierces your heart, or an axe crushes your balls, you keep your damn eyes wide open!”
“B-But—!”
“No buts! Close your eyes one more time, and I'll toss you straight into the middle of that corpse pile myself. Understood?!”
Before Geol could stammer an answer, Yun shifted once more. Swung about like duckweed caught in a raging rapid, Geol fought with every fiber of his being to keep his eyelids peeled. The terror that Yun might genuinely chuck him into the claws of the jiangshi far outweighed his dread of the monsters themselves.
Because he kept his eyes open, he finally witnessed the source of the ringing cacophony.
Cl-cl-clang!
Yun’s blade moved with blinding velocity. Even focusing his internal energy into his vision, Geol could barely track the flickering afterimages of the steel. Yet, possessed of the exceptional martial talent that even Yun had acknowledged, Geol could recognize the sheer brilliance before him. The trajectories traced by the blade were breathtakingly refined, drawing impossibly pure arcs charged with terrifying, restrained power.
Not a single blow from the jiangshi came close to grazing Yun—or Geol dangling in his grip.
The exact same miracle had unfolded moments earlier while he had been cowering with his eyes shut. A wave of bitter shame and regret washed over Geol. It wasn't merely the stinging truth of Yun's reprimand about a warrior never closing his eyes in battle. It was the crushing realization that he had nearly squandered the rare fortune to witness such magnificent, gallant, and formidable swordsmanship at point-blank range, all because of his own cowardice.
Right, I have their measure now.
Facing jiangshi for the first time while hauling dead weight like Namgung Geol was hardly an ideal combat scenario. Thus, Yun had initially focused on a conservative defense to gauge their capabilities.
There's no longer any need to hold back.
Wuuuung!
Inner power surged through his meridian pathways like a bursting dam. A pale, hazy mist enveloped the steel before compressing violently, solidifying into an ultra-dense, razor-thin filament of radiant energy along the edge.
“Sword Thread!” Geol gasped aloud.
He knew Yun had crossed the threshold into the First-Rate realm. But during their duel, he had only seen Sword Energy. To witness the legendary Sword Thread dancing upon Yun’s blade was entirely unprecedented.
The blade began to sing.
Limitless Divine Art Foundation
Form: Dawn Sky Single Sword
Geol watched with absolute clarity: Yun was undeniably executing the foundational forms of the Hyocheon Sword Art. Yet against the charging monstrosities, that basic clan art proved more than sufficient. Guided by the profound truths of the Limitless Divine Art—the ultimate crystallization of Yun’s past enlightenment—the simple sword form had transcended into an unstoppable stroke of execution.
Slash!
Splaaart!
Fountains of thick, viscous gore erupted from the two jiangshi lunging in the lead. They had not merely been cut. Both torsos were severed clean in two along a horizontal line, parted as effortlessly as silk beneath shears.
Thud! Thump!
Severed torsos and legs tumbled across the stone floor as a rain of foul black blood splattered down like an oily downpour.
“What in the—?!”
Seo Won-gil’s eyes bulged from their sockets. His jaw dropped slack as he stared at the bisected remnants of his prized creations, now reduced to nothing more than inert, ruined meat.
“H-How… How can this be?!”
It was an impossible sight.
“Go! The rest of you, kill him! Quickly!”
Driven by mounting panic, Seo Won-gil threw the remaining four jiangshi he had kept back for personal protection straight into the fray. Leaving himself unguarded was a perilous gamble, but holding them in reserve was no longer an option. Yun had just cleaved two jiangshi in half in a single heartbeat while holding off four. The remaining two vanguard corpses stood no chance whatsoever.
Even with all six remaining corpses converging on the youth, an icy tendril of dread gripped Seo Won-gil’s spine. And in moments like these, dread was almost always prophetic.
Shhk!
As yet another jiangshi was effortlessly bisected through the waist, Seo Won-gil let out a bloodcurdling shriek.