Chapter 40
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: The Beggar's Intrusion
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Even after the ambush incident, the Point Cang Sword Sect spent days that weren't much different from before.
Of course, it went without saying that Gwang-il hadn't passed word of this to the First- and Second-Generation Disciples, who remained utterly silent in their secluded training caves.
He had his own logic: it wouldn't do to disturb his sect elders at the crucial juncture of their enlightenment over something as trivial as this (?).
But amusingly enough, such persuasion had become entirely unnecessary by now.
The straight-laced bunch, led by Gwang-jo—who should have rebelled against this immoral and high-handed decision—
"That's for Senior Brother to handle."
"Hm? Do as you see fit, Eldest Senior Brother."
"What are you bringing up now...?"
"Eldest Senior Brother. Take a look at my progress. Don't you think I'm finally ready to learn One Flash Death?"
...had already fallen deeply under the spell of One Flash Death's might, immersing themselves completely in it.
Thanks to that, though Gwang-il wore an ambiguous smile—not sure whether to be pleased or not—he willingly passed on the technique's secrets to those junior brothers who had at least met the bare minimum qualifications.
"Fi-finally...!"
"Now I can finally catch up to Gwang-geon and Gwang-sik!"
It had only been a few days since the Shadow Assassins' ambush.
Naturally, no dramatic breakthroughs had occurred in that brief span.
The only changes were in their mindset and attitude toward martial arts.
But for those who had already reached the first-rate realm, that alone was more than enough—overflowing, even.
In truth, One Flash Death required no particular martial qualifications to begin learning.
If anything, it was just a matter of having inner energy in one's dantian and being able to control it, even a little.
The "mature first-rate" condition Gwang-il had initially set was merely his greed to elevate his junior brothers' levels even slightly higher.
'Might as well have them start from a higher level if possible. It'll be better for them.'
In his own way, it was consideration—not consideration.
After all, stance training was endlessly tedious and boring compared to actual strikes.
Vertical cuts, horizontal slashes, diagonal sweeps—adjusting them minutely from various angles, blending them endlessly into ever-changing variations was nothing like the flourishing sword arts of striking techniques.
'Stance work is so simple that it wears people out quickly.'
This was why the Point Cang ancestors had restricted Sun-Piercing Sword's transmission to Second-Generation Disciples only after at least three years of training.
From their tender childhood years into their teens.
Forcing kids full of dreams and drawn to flashy things to drill nothing but single-point thrusts would be grueling and monotonous—for teachers and students alike. It was plain as day.
'At least Sun-Piercing Sword has a lot of forms.'
In the end, each one boiled down to a straight thrust at a single point, sure.
But weren't there still eight distinct forms, each with their own flair?
By contrast, what of the One Flash Death he had created in his past life?
"When it comes to killing people, why bother swinging the sword twice?"
...Wasn't it the era's masterpiece, born from that utterly demonic extreme efficiency?
Strictly speaking, then, One Flash Death was more of an Evil Path martial art than Orthodox.
Its roots might lie in Point Cang's righteous swordsmanship, but the flower it bloomed was something else entirely.
'That's why anyone can pick it up easily.'
Like most Evil Path arts that prized efficiency and scorned wasted motion.
But precisely because of that, it was an art brutally hard to master beyond a certain point.
That was why most Evil Path warriors lingered at second- or third-rate.
And amid it all, the Dark Heaven Emperor's One Flash Death was swordsmanship that pushed that ruthless efficiency to its absolute limit with austere restraint.
"Don't get too excited. You'll be suffering for it endlessly from here on."
"Hahaha! As if!"
"Thank you, Eldest Senior Brother! Truly, thank you!"
Uwahaha!
Despite his cautious advice, they were too ecstatic over learning One Flash Death to think straight.
"Tch."
'A few spars will crack their heads open, and they'll figure it out themselves...'
No need to rain on their parade any further.
Whatever he said now, their minds were stuffed full of his single sword that had swept away the Shadow Assassins.
'Time will be the medicine in the end.'
Just like Gwang-geon and Gwang-jo, who had already passed this stage and set foot on the path of hardship first.
Among the five junior brothers he'd taught One Flash Death to ahead of schedule, those two were progressing fastest—and long past the point of no return.
They could feel their skills inching forward, ever so slowly, so turning back now was impossible.
Besides, the sect didn't forbid thrust training anyway.
So if it was just pointless single-point jabs, they might as well devote themselves fully to One Flash Death. Who could blame that logic?
'Whatever the case, nothing bad for me.'
Whoosh.
He pulled out the Yun Merchant Leader's letter from his bosom and burned it to ash with Samādhi True Fire in moments.
With a flick, he scattered the black ashes into the wind, then stepped out beyond the sect gates alone, leaving his junior brothers behind.
No special reason.
The Shadow Assassins' night raid a few days back.
Nothing guaranteed those Southern Barbarian Beast Palace scum wouldn't pull the same stunt.
Day or night.
So he'd taken it upon himself to play scout and sentry, tedious as it was.
'I took out that poison needle punk easily when he let his guard down, but...'
If a proper transcendent expert from the Beast Palace came charging in, he'd be in a real bind.
Those bastards' bodies were tough as layered leather armor—thick and hard.
Piercing their necks like the soft Sichuan Tang Clan's poison and hidden weapon experts? At his current level, a tall order.
'Even that's only against a mature transcendent.'
And soon enough, he'd punch holes through them anyway.
He was merely stalled at his current realm for lack of a spirit pill.
'Asking that old beggar about Myeong-wol's whereabouts might be a stretch.'
As a Point Cang disciple, inquiring about someone from the rival Shadow Gate through the Beggars' Sect felt off.
Doubtful the laid-back old blind-eye at the branch division even had access to that intel.
'Better to find Wang Geo first.'
A guy strutting around as "Dragon Head" would surely have broader info access than some mere branch leader.
'Will that punk be in this inspection team? They kept the roster secret even from branch leaders, so he's definitely a key figure needing security.'
Crunch, crunch.
As he trampled fallen leaves through the dense woods, lost in thought—
"...Damn. Am I really done for? Not again...!"
A blatant gaze from a dozen paces behind.
Gwang-il circled a massive tree and emerged, his lips pressing into a tight line.
Broad daylight, alone, presence so obvious—no new ambushers here.
No need for qi sense; that filthy, ragged look and waist knot screamed his origins.
And above all...
'Why's that old man here...?'
The face staring back was all too familiar.
"...Tch."
Gwang-il didn't welcome this reunion with a figure from unpleasant memories.
"Point Cang's dire straits are truly lamentable!"
"But we righteous heroes of the Orthodox world can't be sent south to guard against those vile Evil Path hordes and now even the Western Outers!"
In his past life, as a Sect Leader's disciple desperate to save his sect on the brink, he'd first met this old beggar while wandering the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans.
Encountered by chance at Ami Sect, his first stop, the damnable wretch had trailed him relentlessly, meddling at every turn.
In that worst crisis, where every one of the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans shunned Point Cang, could he deny the mad beggar's influence?
Furious, he'd cast aside respect for a senior and even drawn his blade—only to be crushed by overwhelming skill, enduring bitter humiliation.
Decades later, in the mid Righteous-Demonic War, he'd finally crossed paths again, torturing the foe to bits before death.
A secret, brutal revenge, spared only out of regard for his friend the Dragon Head Division Leader.
'I'd thought I'd purged every last grudge against the Beggars' Sect after that day...'
The world's twists and fates were cruel beyond irony.
"You're that brat Gwang-il, eh?"
"......"
To drag this old grudge from the depths of memory once more.
* * *
"Why no answer? Can't you hear the old beggar asking?"
Thud, thud.
Had he never intended to hide from the start?
Not a hint of hesitation in his bold stride through the underbrush.
Even here, on Point Cang Peak, the sect's main summit.
'...Still the same.'
That stubborn, self-righteous conviction, proud and unashamed of his own actions.
Boundless pride in the Beggars' Sect—and utter certainty surpassing it.
'That damn old coot.'
He'd thought his past life's vengeance sated.
Apparently not.
Facing him now, hot fury surged from his heart.
'...I want to kill him.'
Suppressing the rising killing intent grew harder.
His right hand twitched unconsciously toward his sword hilt.
"Hah! Look at this insolent brat!"
And in that moment, the foe—now three paces away—noticed Gwang-il's state.
"What's this? Suddenly itching for a bout with the old beggar?"
"You filthy traitor Gwang-il! Even in death, I'll never forgive your betrayal of the Orthodox world!"
"Aren't you asking? Whether you'll thrust that brutal blade—at the old beggar too—that slaughtered the Sichuan Tang Clan's Shadow Assassins, your fellow Orthodox allies."
"Point Cang turning out like this was a blessing in disguise! Raising scum like you as a disciple!"
"No manners for a senior. Talent's no excuse to rampage—you pick your foes."
Curses from his past life mingled with the present voice, breath quickening.
His heart swelled, scorching heat rapidly eroding his patience.
On the verge of mental collapse—
"If you're so confident, try that fancy blade on me. I'll straighten your manners, then hold your Sect Leader accountable for raising you wrong."
Snap.
Words crossing the line, slandering Point Cang's ancestors.
They severed Gwang-il's last thread of reason.
Right then.
"!!!"
Boom!
"...That senile bastard dares."
The old beggar's body, struck by a lightning-gray flash, smashed through dozens of massive trees in a straight line, vanishing deep into the woods.