Chapter 283
Chapter 283
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 283
Chapter Title: The Interrupted Spar
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Just before the spar hurtled toward its extreme limit.
Hyeok Mulin revealed himself, simultaneously facing the swords of the two elders.
With that, everyone froze in place.
Sword and sword and sword.
The sight of the three blades interlocked like links in a chain was truly spectacular.
He had halted the sword auras of both the Sword Sovereign and the Sword Sage at once.
Hyeok Mulin had saved them—and Mount Hua itself—from the brink of disaster.
Thud.
In the face of that unbelievable scene, Hoe Kang unwittingly plopped down on his rear.
"...Am I dreaming?"
Just watching their spar had sent chills down his spine, rooting him to the spot without a single step forward.
Yet Hyeok Mulin had leaped right into the fray without a moment's hesitation.
Hoe Kang stared in slack-jawed astonishment, then slapped his own cheek. A sharp sting confirmed it wasn't a dream.
As the two combatants, their duel paused by Hyeok Mulin's intervention, slowly turned their gazes toward him.
"Young man, how should we interpret your actions just now?"
Cheon Su-myeong spoke first, while Baek Hyeon-gyeong silently signaled his agreement with a glance.
Hyeok Mulin answered their stares without a trace of doubt.
"It seemed both sides had forgotten this was merely a spar, so I intervened out of necessity. If that's not the case, I apologize."
"..."
They fell silent at his words.
Only then did they realize how carried away they'd become.
In that heavy quiet, Hyeok Mulin spoke again.
"If you intend to resume the spar, I'll step aside."
He had stopped it due to the overheated intensity.
If it cooled to a proper level, they could continue anytime.
But Cheon Su-myeong immediately sheathed his sword and declined.
"No need."
His boiling excitement had chilled; he had no desire to continue.
Baek Hyeon-gyeong shared the sentiment, withdrawing his blade and sliding it into its scabbard.
He offered Hyeok Mulin belated thanks.
"Thank you for halting the spar. I nearly caused irreparable damage to the sect's heartland. Your intervention snapped me back to my senses."
"I understand."
Even if others had witnessed it, they likely wouldn't grasp that Baek Hyeon-gyeong had crossed the line.
Mount Hua's sect leader, a man who cherished the sect above all, had nearly unleashed a devastating sword art without controlling his inner energy.
But Hyeok Mulin understood him fully.
'A duel with a worthy rival like that—probably his first in decades.'
Baek Hyeon-gyeong rarely ventured beyond Mount Hua, limiting his external contacts.
Within the sect, he'd only sparred instructively with elders or disciples.
Now, facing an opponent who could match his fully unleashed power—it was a dream for any warrior, any sword master.
It was entirely understandable that he'd lost himself in the moment, forgetting his surroundings.
"No need to look so disappointed. You can always spar again another time."
Cheon Su-myeong shook his head with a weary expression at Hyeok Mulin's words.
"This was the last spar with that lad."
"I have no intention of crossing swords with him twice."
Before and after the spar, their sentiments matched perfectly.
Once was enough; they had no desire for a second round.
Cheon Su-myeong's reasoning was simple.
'Mount Hua's swordplay never sits well with me.'
Their clash wasn't a brute-force contest of raw power or a straightforward assault.
It wove countless feints into the flow, blooming plum blossoms amid them, seamlessly shifting false to true.
The mental strain was immense, of course.
Even when blades met, he deflected rather than clashed, feeling scarcely any impact at his fingertips.
He'd fought a swordsman wielding a blade, yet it felt like slicing drifting petals.
Baek Hyeon-gyeong, his opponent, harbored similar thoughts, though for different reasons.
'The destructive power of his sword has grown far beyond before.'
In truth, facing Cheon Su-myeong's strikes hadn't been simple deflection either.
His sword carried the immense weight and force of a moving mountain, vibrating on contact alone.
If any other Mount Hua elder faced it, all hundred would shatter their blades the instant they met.
Having unleashed their swords freely in the spar, the two elders converged on the same conclusion.
They never wanted to duel each other again.
Without Hyeok Mulin's arrangement, this spar wouldn't have happened at all—but regardless, they reaffirmed their resolve.
Yet a common thread ran through their reflections.
'This spar was the last.'
They had no wish to meet in another spar.
But that didn't mean they wouldn't clash in battle.
Why?
Orthodox sects and Demon Cult.
As eternal foes, they might cross paths on some future battlefield.
If that day came, the two elders wouldn't halt midway like today.
"Then let's call the spar a draw."
It was a battle without a clear victor.
Seeing it through might reveal an edge, but this was only a spar.
They accepted Hyeok Mulin's declaration of a draw.
"With the spar ended, I'll take my leave first."
"I'll head out as well."
The two elders departed Pure Heart Pool one after another.
Hyeok Mulin understood their mindset.
A duel with a peer at their level, free from duties and burdens.
How long had it been since their last such fight?
Now they needed solitary time.
To replay the battle, dissect every moment, and reflect deeply—they craved it utterly.
What made ancient sword masters fearsome wasn't just their awe-inspiring prowess.
Even at heaven-shaking heights, they never stopped evolving.
And the insights from that spar weren't limited to the participants.
"Head back first."
"Y-Yes? Yes, sir!"
At Hyeok Mulin's voice, Hoe Kang blinked in surprise and hurried off.
Soon, only Hyeok Mulin remained in Pure Heart Pool.
He closed his eyes gently.
Recalling their battle—especially the final clash of the elders' sword auras.
A blooming festival of plum blossoms and savage winds slicing mountains.
Visualizing the scene repeatedly in his mind, Hyeok Mulin slowly curved his lips.
"That was close."
He hadn't stopped their sword auras because he surpassed them.
By intervening a step ahead, before their strikes fully collided with maximum power.
A moment later or sooner, and the three swords would have clashed in catastrophe.
Moreover, the moment his blade met theirs, both elders instantly withdrew their energy.
Had either pressed their sword arts, Mount Hua—and Hyeok Mulin—would have suffered greatly.
Fortunately, the three warriors' instincts aligned perfectly.
'Using Plum Blossom Steps made it a spar without regrets.'
Even spectating had yielded much.
Illusion Sword was his mainstay, while Heavy Sword echoed the Blade School he aspired to.
Thus, despite the brevity, Hyeok Mulin gained profound insights. He replayed the spar, contemplating and internalizing them.
However.
"Watching is fine, but nothing beats clashing directly."
The sensation of their blades still lingered at his fingertips, pulsing vividly.
Hyeok Mulin placed his hand on Breaking Heaven Demon Sword and drew it in a flash.
A diagonal slash rent the air.
Within his thoughts, the imagined plum blossoms and gales swirled together.
"...Next time."
Murmuring briefly, he swung his sword there for a good while longer.
That night.
Hoe Kang returned to the second-generation disciples' quarters of Mount Hua Sect and opened the door.
Hoe Ak, his roommate, looked up at him.
It was late; the other disciples slept soundly. But Hoe Ak had kept a candle lit, waiting.
Facing the returned Hoe Kang, he spoke.
"What happened? I wanted to ask where you went since you were summoned at dawn, but why do you look so drained?"
Exhausted from intense focus just watching the spar, Hoe Kang dragged himself back half-dead.
At Hoe Ak's puzzled question, Hoe Kang opened his mouth to reply.
But he soon gave up, lips flapping soundlessly.
"...Never mind."
"What? What happened to make you like this?"
"I can't say. You wouldn't believe me anyway."
Who would believe the sect leader and Demon Sword Venerable had dueled at Mount Hua's core?
Even he hadn't imagined it until witnessing the Demon Sword Venerable's demonic energy firsthand.
He had no intention of spilling about the spar—let alone risk ridicule as a dreamer.
Recalling that surreal duel, Hoe Kang shook his head and climbed straight into bed.
'Today felt endlessly long.'
Only now lying down did the tension gripping his body all day release. He couldn't twitch a finger.
As Hoe Kang settled in, Hoe Ak prepared for bed too, watching him.
He'd planned to pry, but seeing the exhaustion, he let him rest.
Thus, the two youths lay crossed in the room, seeking sleep.
At some point, Hoe Kang spoke.
"Hoe Ak."
"Yeah?"
"What do you think of the Demon Cult?"
"The Demon Cult...?"
Caught off guard by the sudden question, Hoe Ak answered casually.
"Our eternal enemies. We share the Central Plains with unorthodox sects, but demons? We can't mix with them—or coexist."
Hoe Kang fell silent at his words.
He was right, of course.
Everything he'd learned as an Orthodox disciple vilified the Demon Cult.
Yet.
'At that final moment, why was I worried for both sides?'
As a Mount Hua disciple, fretting over the sect leader was natural.
But Hoe Kang had also worried for the Demon Sword Venerable, his opponent.
Though only a day's teacher, he realized the man had influenced him far more than expected.
The Demon Sword Venerable of rumors differed vastly from the one he'd met, conversed with, and learned swordplay from.
As Hoe Kang pondered silently, Hoe Ak asked back.
"Why ask out of the blue? What do you think of the Demon Cult?"
"..."
His question echoed in the room.
But as night flowed into dawn and sunlight brightened again, only quiet silence lingered there.