Chapter 22
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Extinguishing Light
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Myeongwang.
This fearsome single stroke that Gwang-il had obtained from the secret chamber of the founding patriarch in his previous life was a sword art with exceedingly stringent entry requirements.
Namely, the Sun-Piercing Sword.
One had to cultivate this supreme sword technique of Point Cang, consisting of a total of eight forms, and achieve perfect mastery in at least two of them.
At first glance, it might seem like what was so difficult about perfectly executing just one form from a mere sword technique?
"Hah!"
"Master two forms of the Sun-Piercing Sword?"
"Kuhm!"
"What a disaster...!"
The problem lay in the longstanding trend that had pervaded Point Cang for ages.
The eight forms of the Sun-Piercing Sword were each composed entirely of thrusting strikes.
Even more so, as the undisputed pinnacle and mightiest swordsmanship of Point Cang, the sequences within them were profoundly intricate and esoteric beyond measure.
Compared to the sword arts of other schools, where a single form was formed from as few as dozens or as many as hundreds of slashes, this was tantamount to forewarning a far more grueling path from initiation to mastery.
Thus, for the members of contemporary Point Cang—who had prioritized training in slash-focused sword arts over thrusts to expedite their disciples' progress—this revelation was nothing short of a thunderbolt from the blue.
'It's unavoidable, but still...'
Though the sight was far from pleasing, Gwang-il couldn't simply condemn the predecessors' decision outright.
Wasn't Yun-nam already struggling to produce even a single proper disciple?
To steadfastly uphold Point Cang's lofty reputation with a headcount woefully inferior to other sects,
'They had no choice but to emphasize slashes, which offered visibly faster growth compared to thrusts.'
A thrust was a sword form pursuing a one-point decisive strike, making the name "form" almost a misnomer.
It would have been impossible to relentlessly drill immature disciples, yet to reach mastery, in nothing but that day and night.
Moreover,
'Point Cang's Sun-Piercing Sword is undoubtedly the world's finest thrusting art... but the issue is the lack of foundational techniques and basics to support the lower stages until one reaches a certain realm.'
Thus, they taught third-generation novice disciples slashes, which were relatively easier to learn than other basics, and only introduced the Sun-Piercing Sword upon advancing to second-generation disciples.
Despite being the sect's mightiest sword art, freely imparting it to all second-generation disciples was
'Because they knew from experience that even starting from then and delving deeply, one could scarcely achieve full mastery of a single form.'
It was undoubtedly a perennial headache that had plagued the sect's leadership for generations.
The Sun-Piercing Sword was that notoriously difficult a swordsmanship.
Even he, who had been called the Dark Heaven Emperor in his previous life, had barely mastered half its forms by the time he reached the pinnacle of the martial world.
What more was there to say?
'But it's unavoidable.'
There was no way to forcibly teach it without the proper foundation in thrusting.
It wasn't some contrived excuse; to truly glimpse the founding patriarch's ultimate insights left behind, achieving mastery in two forms of the Sun-Piercing Sword was the bare minimum prerequisite.
'More precisely, it's the entry condition.'
While Gwang-il was lost in these thoughts,
Heavy sighs poured out one after another from those around him, as if the ground itself were caving in.
"How could the founding patriarch...!"
"Heh... heh heh heh..."
"At my age, I've only just mastered a single thrust! When am I supposed to refine another form to such a level? Aigoo...!"
Frustrated lamentations erupted sporadically from all corners.
On the other hand, amid the chaos, calm voices rebuked them.
"Pathetic. Isn't it because after achieving that one form at forty, you never glanced at the others?"
"E-Elder Brother!"
"Tsk tsk tsk! A swordsman who has pierced the transcendent wall, and you're already quaking in fear? At your level, a few years in secluded training would suffice."
"Th-That's... Hoo! It's just regrettable! So regrettable!"
"Heh heh heh. That's why I told you time and again to focus on the Sun-Piercing Sword. Why did your eyes wander to side pursuits instead of our sect's supreme art?"
"A-Argh! Elder Brother! Are you fanning the flames in a burning house right now?!"
Hahaha!
The one bursting into leisurely laughter was none other than Great Elder Gwan-seong.
The senior figure of Point Cang who had just defended Gwang-il alongside his junior colleague Gwan-ho.
'Has the Great Elder mastered two forms?'
In his previous life, this elder of the sect had rushed out against the barbaric Beast Palace invaders who appeared abruptly before him and met a tragic end in their vile trap.
Because of that, there had never been an opportunity to witness his attainments before.
Fortuitously, it seemed the title of Great Elder was well-earned; he hadn't neglected reflecting on Point Cang's roots over the years.
'So, how many in total?'
The Sect Leader and Grand Senior Uncle Gwan-ho had undoubtedly met Myeol-gwang's entry requirements.
Though there were no few who had pierced the transcendent wall in this gathering, amusingly, counting them from the evident faces was no difficult task.
Their expressions were so polarized that the word "stark" came to mind naturally.
'...Six. Six people?'
Exactly double what he had anticipated.
He had braced for as few as three in the worst case.
That was how much, in Point Cang at this time, the Sun-Piercing Sword was like a precious rice cake in a painting—tantalizing but unattainable.
'A good start.'
Moreover, those six occupied precisely the top echelons here.
Once he transmitted Myeol-gwang's incantation and core sequences, he wouldn't even need to personally oversee their practice of the form.
As he nodded in quiet satisfaction,
A voice suddenly piped up, flipping the hall's tense atmosphere on its head.
"But Gwang-il, how exactly did you learn this Myeol-gwang form? As a third-generation disciple, you shouldn't have received any instruction in the Sun-Piercing Sword yet."
'Ah!'
His mind had been crammed full with grand preparations for war, plus recent worries over the Yun Merchants, Sichuan Tang Clan, Beggars' Sect, and the like.
'Damn.'
Gwang-il hadn't prepared an answer for this most obvious of questions.
It was inevitable.
Having mastered half the Sun-Piercing Sword and created One Flash Death was already a dim memory from over a decade ago.
Thus, justifying the origin of a technique he already considered part of himself was hardly something that would readily spring to mind.
"Why no answer? I'm asking about the source of the Sun-Piercing Sword you've learned."
Even amid this, the interrogation bit sharper into his nape.
'That damned bastard...!'
And of all people, the questioner was Gwan-jong.
Naturally, he could guess this wasn't born of pure curiosity.
'Didn't even get a heads-up from his brother? What a fool!'
To dare corner him like this.
Grinning smugly with vile triumph, acting as if he'd seized some grand weakness.
It was understandable from that scum's perspective.
If he played this right, he could pin the crime of stealing the sect's secret art on him.
'As if that erases what you and the Yun Merchants have done!'
What was truly outrageous was the Yun Merchant Leader's reaction.
His face pale as finely milled rice flour, mouth agape like a fish—clearly, he hadn't anticipated his brother's outburst at all.
'Your household runs smoothly, doesn't it? Perfectly.'
Any naive notion of managing Gwan-jong through the Yun Merchant Leader vanished without a trace.
'I was even thinking of giving those Beast Palace scum a chance to die for the sect if they invaded.'
But this one was useless even as a meat shield—a utter scourge.
Having come this far, after overcoming this hurdle, executing him immediately would be the right call.
For him, former alliance leader of the evil paths, discarding a worm like this—whether in martial arts, reputation, or honor—was no great feat.
'Anyway, I need to respond...'
The hall sank into a heavy silence in an instant.
Everyone seated there stared piercingly at his mouth.
Even the Sect Leader and Grand Senior Uncle Gwan-ho, who had shown him great favor, were no exceptions.
It was unavoidable.
A third-generation disciple chancing upon the founding patriarch's hidden opportunity and advancing by leaps and bounds was exceedingly rare, but plausible.
'But mastering an untaught Sun-Piercing Sword—and two forms at that—is utterly illogical.'
Even conceding he obtained a Sun-Piercing Sword manual from the secret chamber and began learning it,
Perfecting two out of eight forms in a mere year defied all explanation.
That such a miracle was impossible was best known by these aged faces who had failed to master even two here and thus been shut out from the patriarch's insights.
Yet hiding his Sun-Piercing Sword attainment would directly contradict his claim of having obtained Myeol-gwang and intending to share it.
'There was never a choice to begin with.'
As the old saying went, spilled water cannot return to the basin.
Thus, his answer was predetermined from the start.
No need to drag it out and deepen suspicions.
"This disciple was able to learn the Sun-Piercing Sword as well in the founding patriarch's secret chamber."
"Ha! As if I didn't know you'd say that!"
Gwan-jong's eyes gleamed with heightened arrogance, as if he'd expected as much.
His eyes, bloodshot with malice, brazenly revealed his insidious, base intentions.
"But even if you got the Sun-Piercing Sword from the chamber, perfecting two forms in a year is absurd! Even the transcendent seniors here have barely mastered one."
Strictly speaking, that was a result of their own choices and focus.
"Kuhm!"
"Hm... Certainly..."
The issue was the instinctive revulsion at a mere twenty-something third-generation disciple achieving it in just a year.
Humans naturally recoiled upon witnessing something superior to themselves.
But what if the gap was so vast they couldn't even feel revulsion?
What then?
Gwang-il already knew the answer intimately.
Thus,
"Elder Gwan-jong, it seems you're laboring under a grave misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding? You dare call it that?!"
Gwang-il decided to boldly pierce through the adversity.
No— to smash head-on this repulsive interference masquerading as adversity.
"People are born with varying martial talents, after all."
"?!"
"What?!"
"Wh-what did you say?!"
His words struck like a cold dagger.
The audience, unprepared for such a sharp retort, erupted in shock.
Unsurprisingly, the questioner Gwan-jong showed the fiercest backlash.
"You insolent whelp! Insulting your sect elders?!"
Leaping up with a thunderous roar that echoed through the hall, as if delighted by the turn.
And amusingly, others caught in the broad net of provocation began shooting him wary glares.
But this too was anticipated.
'Just crush them overwhelmingly.'
Hadn't he repeated this countless times in the evil paths of his previous life?
The difference was crushing with overwhelming power then, versus demonstrating an overwhelming talent gap now.
"A picture is worth a thousand words, as they say. This unworthy disciple will shatter the well that confines you, Elder Gwan-jong."
"Wh-what?! What do you mean?!"
No one present missed the allusion to the ancient parable of the frog in the well.
As all gaped in astonishment,
Gwang-il had already strode to the entrance. Glancing back calmly, he revealed steady eyes.
"I shall demonstrate this disciple's Sun-Piercing Sword. Judge for yourselves upon seeing it."