Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Stench or Fragrance (2)
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The reason the Brain Gate Heart Technique induced madness was simple.
It forcibly drew in the energy of the great natural world through the midpoint between the eyebrows, the Indang acupoint, enriching the brain's qi. Immediately after, it extracted the turbid energy through the crown of the head, the Baihui acupoint, leaving only pure essence behind.
Up to that point, it was fine. The problem came next.
The purified essence left after removing the turbidity was far too clear for an unrefined mind to handle. Meanwhile, as that energy amplified the brain's capacity, the human body's innate divine qi was forcibly awakened.
This triggered artificial growth of spiritual power.
An immature mind couldn't possibly contain that sacred energy. Hallucinations and emotional turmoil were inevitable consequences.
In short, the Brain Gate Heart Technique drove one mad because it artificially introduced power forbidden to humans.
On the flip side, it offered advantages equal to its drawbacks.
One of them was the ability to detect Reverse Heaven energy.
Once the energy purified by the Soul Burning First Method settled in, the brain became hyper-activated. From that point, though unstable, fragments of heavenly qi mingled with the soul's nature—because the Indang and Baihui, gateways to the soul, had been forcibly opened.
The Soul Burning First Method acted like a soul forge, selectively purging only the impurities from the minuscule influx of energy. This made one hypersensitive to the great natural world's qi.
By the same token, it heightened sensitivity to energies opposing nature.
In other words, sensitivity to Reverse Heaven qi—demonic energy.
Ziiing! Ziiing!
The Brain Gate True Qi, which had let out a long wail, now emitted short, thick, rhythmic vibrations.
'This is definitely...'
The Brain Gate True Qi had detected something.
And that something was almost certainly demonic energy.
'Not certain yet. But this steady rhythm and the intensity of the noise... It's too spot-on to be anything but demonic energy.'
Murong Bi, gazing gravely at the Hong Sword Clan, turned his eyes to Guwol.
"You're Guwol, right?"
"Yes."
"You lot—are you really from the orthodox sects?"
"...Yes, we are."
Guwol interpreted it as a jab at their excessive servility for orthodox sect members and bowed his head in shame.
Murong Bi didn't snap at him.
"The martial arts you've cultivated—they're all proper techniques, right?"
Proper techniques didn't mean those of the orthodox sects, but any art that harbored untainted energy, regardless of the practitioner's pursuits.
"O-Of course."
Puzzlement crept over Guwol's face. Why ask something like this all of a sudden?
'Definitely.'
From clashing with them directly, he could confirm the Crimson Sword Trio's members all practiced proper techniques.
Hong In's arts were the same. As blood kin, he seemed to have mastered something on par with Hwang Gyu's secret techniques.
'Then what is it?'
Could a demon in hiding be lurking within the Hong Sword Clan?
"..."
Guwol hesitantly spoke to Murong Bi, who stared intently at the Hong Sword Clan.
"Um... Young Master."
"...?"
"Sh-Should we head out again?"
"What?"
"Yes? I mean, may we depart once more?"
"Depart..."
They just needed to cross the bridges scattered across the narrow riverbanks.
"Sure."
Murong Bi made his decision.
"Let's go."
"Understood."
As he followed Guwol, Murong Bi pondered.
'Better safe than sorry.'
Honestly, demons? He didn't care as long as he didn't run into one.
Truth be told, he'd fought like a madman in the war against the Holy Blood Palace for his clan and as Martial Alliance Leader—not purely for Murong Cheon the man. If it had just been for himself, he might've holed up in some remote mountain valley and lived leisurely.
But things were different now.
Humans didn't live by instinct alone. Life experiences and past piled layers of familial love and societal duty atop selfish nature.
All those combined to form the man he was today.
'Keeping an eye on them isn't a bad idea.'
The patriarch would blow a fuse, but he could always claim they started it.
Of course, the old man wouldn't buy it with a "Oh, I see. Sorry about that" or "He's my son, but even I think he's a bit much..."
'Worst case, I run.'
With his beefed-up muscles, he was confident he could put distance between them in one serious burst of lightness skill.
And if the clan head was on Hwang Gyu's level, he could just wreak havoc and leave.
They'd learn their second son met his end by his hand anyway—no point fretting now.
'That's not the issue.'
He had several reasons to decide to check it out.
The biggest one...
'If the patriarch is a demon.'
Like the Ten Sword Sect, he'd never heard of the Hong Sword Clan before.
In other words, a clan that had risen in just over twenty years.
The Ten Sword Sect had clearly grown through political maneuvering and business ventures.
The Hong Sword Clan was probably similar, but unlike them, it stayed out of the public eye.
'They've got secret operations running. Sure, shady folks do that all the time.'
Shady operators sometimes grew quietly by laying low.
Usually because they had powerful backers or stumbled into great power.
'One or the other, most likely.'
What if a fallen demonic faction was using the Hong Sword Clan as a front to rebuild in secret?
'If that's true, I can't just let it slide.'
Not all demonic arts ended well, but most who practiced them met grim fates.
Not just themselves—they'd lose control, slaughter even kin in destructive rampages, and spew blood as they died.
'...Not certain yet, though.'
Ziiing! Ziiing!
'Is it?'
The closer they got, the stronger the Brain Gate True Qi's vibrations grew.
Murong Bi's expression turned fully grave. For a low-attainment Brain Gate Heart Technique to react this fiercely, it had to be demonic energy.
Thus, the three crossed the bridge and reached the Hong Sword Clan's main gate.
"Halt."
The guards atop the gate stepped forward.
"State your affiliation."
Even knowing they were the Crimson Sword Trio's leader and deputy, the guards were formal. A sign of solid training.
But their faces betrayed panic—the leader had arrived drenched in blood, carried on the deputy's back.
"Guwol, deputy leader of the Crimson Sword Trio."
Guwol pulled a nameplate from his robes.
His blood-crusted hand trembled pitifully.
"Verified."
"And this gentleman here is..."
Guwol swallowed hard.
"Murong Clan Young Master, here at the patriarch's invitation."
Was it because identities were already confirmed? Or sheer fluster?
The guards hurriedly swung the gates open.
Kugung.
The gates, a full half taller than a man, parted wide.
Whoooosh.
A strangely hot wind seemed to blow from within.
Zeeeeng! Ziiiiing!
The Brain Gate True Qi's frenzy intensified.
"Enter."
Even at his own home, Guwol couldn't swagger or drop formalities. Murong Bi terrified him that much.
Murong Bi stepped slowly through the gates.
Ziiiiing!
With each step, the vibrations grew fiercer.
And finally.
Whoosh!
A chill wind swirled by his ear.
The vibrations ceased. The Brain Gate True Qi had reined itself in.
"Gr-Grand Commander!"
"The Trio Leader?"
"...Yes."
"The rest of the squad?"
"Collapsed... on the way here."
Hong Myeong, face stoic, scanned Guwol and Hong In before nodding.
"Take them to the infirmary."
"Yes, sir!"
Guwol bolted off in a frenzy.
Kugung.
The gates fully closed.
"Murong Bi?"
His demeanor differed from Hong In's entirely.
Hands behind his back, he skipped straight to informal speech—his eyes and aura worlds apart.
Murong Bi nodded silently.
"As a guest, I should escort you straight to the patriarch's quarters, but as the Crimson Squad Commander's superior, I have matters to confirm first."
His voice was as impassive as his expression.
Murong Bi's eyes gradually cleared to transparency.
Hong Myeong's brows twitched faintly—an unconscious quiver.
"Did... our swordsmen err against you?"
"... "
"Tell me. This is the Crimson Squad Commander speaking, not the eldest son of the Hong Sword Clan—no need to hold back."
Murong Bi still said nothing.
Yet his gaze on Hong Myeong grew ever more transparent.
'...'
Whish.
A breeze grazed his nape, unbidden yet vivid.
Hong Myeong felt his back grow slightly—ever so slightly—damp.
'What?'
Murong Bi's staring eyes felt oddly burdensome.
'What are those eyes?'
Drip.
A bead of sweat trickled down his nape.
His mouth dried. His clasped hands chilled; his arms and back prickled.
Hong Myeong panicked inwardly.
'Why am I like this?'
Then.
"Feeling hot?"
"...?"
"Chilly day, yet you're sweating buckets."
Hong Myeong silently wiped his brow and nape with his sleeve before speaking again.
"My apologies. Let me ask once more. Did our swordsmen wrong you?"
Only then did Murong Bi smile.
"Wrong... They didn't seem to think so."
"I'd be grateful if you'd tell me what happened."
"Not hard."
Tap tap.
The staff naturally patted its master's shoulder.
Murong Bi's tone and voice matched the motion—effortlessly natural.
"They insulted and mocked your clan head right in front of your gates. No proper apology in sight."
"... "
"On the way, they picked fights, calling me rude and unfit to face your father. Bold with their sturdy squad backing them, I suppose."
Hong Myeong's cheek quivered.
"...Is that so?"
"Didn't even hide their killing intent. What choice? Had to sweep them aside."
"You took down the entire Crimson Sword Trio?"
"Would you spare a pack of swordsmen charging at you?"
Hong Myeong was stunned.
'He truly handled the Crimson Sword Trio alone?'
Even with equal forces, one-on-one differed vastly from one-against-many. Their coordinated swordplay was legendary.
At best, one might squeak by with a win...
'Not a scratch on him. No fatigue either.'
What did that mean?
'Overwhelming power to crush the Crimson Sword Trio solo!'
A chill gripped his chest.
Undeniable tension shadowed Hong Myeong's eyes as he regarded Murong Bi.
'This guy's the real deal.'
Unlike his brother, he accepted reality as it was.
Murong Bi suddenly burst into laughter.
"Well, they were fuming plenty, but martial artists trade insults all the time. As long as no one dies, right?"
"...Indeed."
"About two breaths at my pace down that trail—swordsmen collapsed there. Their sword momentum was quite threatening, so I didn't hold back. Understand?"
Unexpectedly, Hong Myeong nodded crisply.
"I do. I should be grateful instead. They overstepped against a master; losing their lives wouldn't have been amiss."
"Your words make me feel ashamed."
"No. Our warriors committed a grave discourtesy. As Crimson Squad Commander, I apologize."
Hong Myeong clasped his hands formally.
Murong Bi's smile faded to indifference.
'Cute little bastard.'
His eyes pierced not Hong Myeong's exterior, but within.
What the Brain Gate Heart Technique had captured—something encircling the heart.
Hong Myeong, meanwhile, felt goosebumps ripple down his nape.
'Murong Bi...'
He swallowed dryly without thinking.
'This guy's dangerous.'
Not because of his ability to face the Trio alone.
Just dangerous. Instinct screamed it.
Straightening slowly, Hong Myeong stepped aside.
"I'll apologize properly again later. Shall we head to the patriarch's quarters now?"
"Sure."
Hong Myeong led, Murong Bi followed.
'That's why no one knows.'
The Hong Sword Clan was more dangerous than expected.
And all the more intriguing—and precarious—for it.
'Half-baked.'