Time of Resurrection (3)
“……Grrrr.”
Foam bubbled from Cheong Ho’s mouth. His body was a horrific sight—covered in bruises, cuts, gashes, and burns. The mere fact that he was still standing on his own two feet seemed like a miracle.
It was an astonishing display of grit, but unfortunately, his opponent had no mercy to spare for such resolve.
“Die already.”
Moyong Gun casually flicked his sleeve.
Boom!
Cheong Ho spewed blood once more and tumbled across the ground. It was an invisible palm strike, a single blow of Gyeokgongjang.
This strike had surely wrecked his internals beyond repair.
“Persistent bastard.”
Moyong Gun turned his head. There, on his knees, was Gwang Gyeon. He glared up at Moyong Gun with gritted teeth, but it seemed he could no longer rise.
“You dog... motherfuc—”
Slash.
Gwang Gyeon’s head rolled off cleanly.
Moyong Gun’s cheek twitched.
“Filthy vermin.”
They had been fairly impressive martial artists. No, in the black path, they were truly remarkable. But in the end, they were just black path trash.
The fact that such scum had made him waste this much time stung his pride.
I still have a long way to go.
This was his first proper real combat since mastering Noejeonggong and Mujeongcheonroe-sik.
As expected, the Noejeongjihak was powerful. His own enlightenment in manifesting that destructive art seemed flawless.
Yet there was a difference between enlightenment and actually wielding the art in practice.
Knowledge alone was useless without application. The same held true for martial arts.
Good thing it happened. I’ve found areas to refine.
At that moment, Cheong Ho twitched again.
Irritation flashed across Moyong Gun’s face.
“Just fall already.”
“Kuhuk! Urk!”
“I didn’t hone my blade just to chop down mongrels like you. I’d rather no more of your filthy blood stains my precious sword.”
Bam!
Cheong Ho slammed his fist into the ground and let out a ferocious roar.
“Moyong Gun!!”
Thud!
Cheong Ho’s eyes bulged as if they might tear. Moyong Gun had folded space itself to close in, thrusting his sword into the man’s throat before he knew it.
“How dare a lowly cur address me by name.”
“Guhk!”
Cheong Ho shuddered violently, then went limp.
Now he was dead.
But Moyong Gun’s rage remained undiminished. When blood trickled down the blade onto the back of his hand, his ferocity surged exponentially.
“Filthy.”
Shwick-shwick-shwick!
A barrage of terrifying sword strikes shredded Cheong Ho’s body dozens of times over.
Drip, drip, drip.
Cheong Ho’s mangled corpse scattered in chunks across the ground.
“Hmph!”
Moyong Gun shook the blood from his sword and snorted derisively.
“Consider it an honor. Not just anyone gets the privilege of being diced by my blade.”
Arrogant words, through and through.
Moyong Gun sheathed his sword and gazed westward.
Roooar!
The battle there was still raging. And it seemed to be shifting further west—the sounds had grown much fainter than before.
“……Useless fools.”
They couldn’t even finish off the combat troops of a freshly formed organization.
The lot of them were utterly disappointing.
Even the main family forces held back in the west had been elite warriors selected to block escape routes—men of considerable skill.
Once this is over, I’ll turn the entire family upside down.
Still, he couldn’t just abandon the remaining forces.
Moyong Gun clicked his tongue and kicked off the ground.
Or tried to.
……?!
His expression changed drastically.
……What is this?
Crackle.
Lightning qi surged from his dantian straight to his head in an instant.
Hummm! Hummmm!
He hadn’t unleashed it voluntarily—it flowed out on its own. It was as if Noejeonggong itself was terrified, desperately trying to envelop his entire body in protection.
What in the world……?
An ominous aura approached from far to the south.
The problem was its magnitude.
No way.
Moyong Gun’s eyes widened.
Such power?!
Whoosh!
A scorching blast shoved aside the late autumn chill. It was like molten lava.
Even from this invisible distance, the pressure was immense.
Moreover, it wasn’t countless masters moving together. The aura wasn’t scattered chaotically or coalesced into battle formation.
It was one person.
This absolute presence—so overwhelming that even Moyong Gun couldn’t take a step—was emanating from a single individual.
And in Hunan Province, only one man could radiate such colossal power in all directions.
“……Yang Cheon?”
Fwoosh!
The searing heat abruptly cooled to an icy chill.
……
A bead of cold sweat trickled down Moyong Gun’s nape.
Moments later.
Bwoooom!
The air itself seemed to tear.
Finally, that colossal aura was on the move.
And its speed was like lightning.
So fast that even from this distance, the scream of the air reached his ears.
The absolute one had set foot upon the world, charging forth.
Flee? Pointless.
If they were a hundred li apart, maybe—but with the foe already sensing his presence, escape at this range was futile.
That was the caliber of man he was.
Those called the martial world’s absolutes, the pinnacle experts of the Seongcheon Thirteen Seats, wielded power beyond imagination.
Kaboom!
What movement art was this? What immense force drove it? How was it executed?
The abandoned houses—mere frames left standing—shattered one after another.
The monster surpassing even the speed of sound unleashed intangible shockwaves, shaking heaven and earth.
And at last.
Crackle-crackle!
The lightning qi shielding Moyong Gun’s body crumbled and was pushed back by the intense shockwave.
Scraaaape.
Moyong Gun fared no better. His feet carved a furrow over a zhang long into the earth.
Damn it!
His joints throbbed. Had he not fully unleashed Noejeonggong, bones would surely have snapped.
Not even an attack—just full-speed movement, and it wields this much power……
Moyong Gun steadied his breathing to calm his nerves and fixed his gaze ahead.
There he was. That one.
“The Moyong family head, I presume?”
The low timbre twisted at his clear nerves. Just hearing the voice made it hard to keep his balance.
In the face of the absolute one’s rage-fueled might—the invincible black path sovereign’s full power—Moyong Gun desperately circulated his inner energy.
“Impressive.”
Yang Cheon impassively scanned the surroundings.
His gaze lingered sequentially on Cheong Ho’s scattered chunks, Gwang Gyeon’s headless corpse, and Su Ryong’s body—upper half blasted away.
A faint smile tugged at Yang Cheon’s lips.
“I didn’t expect you to have mustered such force. Quite remarkable. You should’ve sent Ja-chuk—one of those two—instead of three of the Twelve Branches Gods.”
Those two must possess arts on another level among the Twelve Branches Gods.
Valuable intelligence, freely offered. A gracious gift from the foe.
But Moyong Gun couldn’t process the words.
Truly.
He felt like laughing.
They said each of the Seongcheon experts rivals an immortal, but this... monster doesn’t even do the word justice.
Moyong Gun smiled.
Yang Cheon’s eyes flashed.
“……Fine, I see you’ve got guts. Never met anyone who’d smile with me standing right here.”
Still smiling at Yang Cheon, Moyong Gun clasped his hands in a crisp salute.
“I am Moyong Gun, head of the Moyong family. Greetings to Senior Tu Wang Yang.”
A smile was just the start.
Tremble.
Moyong Gun’s body quivered faintly.
Not from fear.
He was genuinely awed by the man’s power—the might of the Seongcheon Thirteen Seats.
Hm.
Yang Cheon’s lip curled.
This one’s more interesting than I thought.
Moyong Gun raised his head. The smile still lingered on his face.
Yang Cheon shook his head.
“I get that you’re no ordinary man, but stop smiling. It’s putting me in a foul mood.”
“Is that so?”
“I hold back from striking without question because my reason still reins in my rage. But starting by peeling off your face wouldn’t cost me anything.”
His calm tone carried unbearable savagery.
He meant it.
One misstep, and Yang Cheon would sincerely rip the skin from Moyong Gun’s face—in an instant.
Moyong Gun couldn’t block or evade it.
Moyong Gun wiped the smile away.
“My apologies. I meant no offense to enrage you, Senior.”
“Quite humble of you.”
“I’m not fool enough to flaunt pride before Tu Wang.”
Yang Cheon’s eyes gleamed.
Curious fellow.
Bold. That boldness resembled the intelligence chief’s in some ways.
The difference? The chief had bellowed orders to drill him, while Moyong Gun bowed his head with dignified poise.
Intelligence chief.
Yang Cheon looked up. The full moon in the dark night sky stung his eyes.
He closed them.
“Explain.”
“Explain what?”
“Why you blew the headquarters entrance. Was it a declaration of total war, or a childish blunder begging for attention? And……”
Flash!
Yang Cheon’s eyes snapped open.
Even without meeting them, Moyong Gun felt a chill grip his chest.
Yang Cheon’s gaze toward the heavens burned fiercer and more vicious than any beast’s.
“Why you killed my intelligence chief.”
His boundless rage seemed to swallow even the darkness.
Fsssh.
Chunks of Cheong Ho’s flesh nearby turned to dust and scattered.
Gwang Gyeon’s and Su Ryong’s corpses followed suit.
Not even deliberate energy emission—just baring his killing intent pulverized external matter.
A real monster.
Moyong Gun inwardly marveled at Yang Cheon’s calamitous power.
Is this truly a force a human can wield?
Having cultivated Noejeonggong and Mujeongcheonroe-sik, he’d been confident of soon reaching the Seongcheon Thirteen Seats.
Wrong. Utterly wrong.
The Seats weren’t attained merely by mastering stronger, more profound arts.
They were fundamentally different from other warriors.
That’s why I crave it all the more.
Then Yang Cheon spoke again.
“Mark my words: abandon any thought of lies or tricks. Though my chest might burst with fury, I’m not so addled I can’t tell truth from falsehood.”
Yang Cheon lowered his gaze to meet Moyong Gun’s.
Flash! Flash!
His eyes unleashed a glare far more menacing than Moyong Gun’s own lightning qi—a torrent like a waterfall.
“Speak. Why did you kill my subordinate?”
“Before that, allow me one question.”
“……?”
“Why did the great Tu Wang summon me?”
“Explain that first.”