Chapter 28
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Embers - 2
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Remnants. Endless poor harvests, taxes that never let up. People abandoned their hometowns and headed for Fire Mountain. It was a vague hope that a place stacked with gold like mountains would at least keep starvation at bay.
But the Fire Mountain they faced offered no mercy in the end. This was a city of ghouls who stripped even beggars bare.
There were rumors of a great war brewing in the martial world. Stories that the Wudang Sword Venerable had prophesied a grim future.
Perhaps because of that, people were stingy to the extreme when it came to sharing. Those draped in fine silks hoarded their wealth, piling it higher and higher, waiting for who knows what. They fled violence only to find more of it.
Some had even nonexistent gold and valuables extorted from them; others ended up bound hand and foot and sold into the black market.
They held their breath. Breathe too deeply, and a blade might come flying from nowhere. They kept their heads down. How many had died for simply lifting their gaze?
All they could offer was a desperate stare.
Huddled against a mud wall, standing on tiptoes. Peeking only with their eyes through the cracks. They watched the girl who had come to the slums engage in her fight.
A hulking brute over eight feet tall tormenting a young girl—it defied all reason. Every moment of punches, grabs, and twists to kill made them swallow hard in fear.
Yet no one stepped forward, and it wasn't just out of fear. It was because stepping forward meant nothing.
They had all witnessed, at least once, how the desperate struggles of the powerless inevitably ended.
"..."
Hundreds of gazes pierced through the chilling sword strokes of the execution squad, each carrying their own fervent prayers toward the girl. She met those eyes. She read the emotions piled within them.
Prayers, terror, hopes, despair.
Despair.
Her arm hurt, gripped in the massive hand of the scarred-face giant. Her joints began to slowly twist out of place. That was when the girl heard the scarred-face giant's words.
"Did you truly believe you had the right to enter the martial world without knowing martial arts?"
"The right to enter the martial world. How amusing."
I never wanted to go to a place like that.
Martial—Wu the character combining two weapons.
The assault of zhengAttack that bites. The fanAnti- that counters it. Together, they form one union one measure.
The girl knew none of that grandeur. She could mimic movements perfectly after seeing them once, but she had no idea what to extend and when. The techniques of combat, the flow of psychology—they were all awkward to her. She had never been properly trained.
"What are you looking at, wench?!"
She ignored the pain right before her eyes.
She communed with the countless eyes watching from afar. Emotions passed wordlessly between them, begging the girl. Speak for us. Answer them.
In their lives, the language of the martial world—martial arts, chivalry...
"That's not it."
Thump. The girl's heart pulsed. To those with nothing, all that was given was rage and tears—a cruel truth. The cold-hearted called it the law of the jungle: the weak devoured by the strong.
"You've always been like that. Pointing swords at us while dressing it up with lofty words. Martial arts. Chivalry. Righteousness."
What had she vowed in her blood? What did the girl want to become? Thump. Her heart pounded fiercely once more. Black true energy whirled madly. It was neither the clear qi filling heaven and earth nor the solid qi born of the earth's grace.
The Reverse Heaven heart method craved one thing alone. The dark emotions buried deep in her heart.
"That's not it. The martial world isn't made of that."
Thump. The girl's whisper reached her heart. The scarred-face giant faltered, stepping back without realizing it. At the same time, the girl took a step forward.
The scarred-face giant was flustered. He was the one projecting pressure. He had focused several times the force into her weakest joint using martial subtlety... So why did it feel like he was being pushed back?
Why was her inner power doubling?
Another step—the girl advanced. The scarred-face giant retreated.
As if beholding something terrifying. As if facing an enemy impossible to resist. The girl's heart pulsed.
"W-Wait a moment."
The scarred-face giant's pupils dilated.
The girl effortlessly pulled her right hand free. A grip that could crush a thousand-jin iron lump failed to hold her slender arm. Whoosh—in an instant, the situation reversed.
Her small hand clamped onto the scarred-face giant's in turn.
"Now, I'll answer you—with strength."
Crunch!
A wretched scream echoed. A horrific cry that everyone on the battlefield could hear.
Zhang Ping felt suffocated. Above all, by his own pathetic state. Trapped behind Bai Hui, reduced to dead weight.
The girl he had finally found had walked into danger, and he had dithered, unable to abandon or save her, ending up stuck.
To his towering pride, it was worse than death. He glared resentfully at his own feet. The reality of being unable to advance through the shower of blades stirred his ugly memories. Why was that girl so foolish as to court such peril!
The scratches multiplying on Bai Hui's body. The girl being pushed into a corner. He saw it all clearly.
Familiar despair. The emotion he felt escaping the Hermit Grove.
The inevitable helplessness when he realized he had to face the Giant Mountain alone. He thought he had forgotten. He had deliberately turned away, brainwashing himself that he could do it. Yet deep down, he had admitted it.
That his remaining life was destined to be that of a grumbling nobody in the martial world, dying by some martial artist's blade.
Was that brief hope merely the prelude to despair?
"No matter what, we can't win anyway..."
But then, a scream rang out. A thick male voice.
He thought it a dream. Amid the savage sword strokes, Zhang Ping's eyes widened. The light reflecting in his pale eyes was too bright to see clearly. But.
He could certainly hear the vanguard of the Dragon Star Clan, the scarred-face giant, screaming in agony.
Ah.
Thump, Zhang Ping's heart pulsed. He recalled the qi the girl had infused in him yesterday, its direction. He realized.
The reason for his despair wasn't lack of power or an overwhelmingly strong foe.
It was his own weakness!
Because he was weak, he hadn't trusted the superhuman he had discovered himself!
"Ha! Hahaha!"
Mad laughter burst from Zhang Ping's mouth. A lifetime of self-mockery and ridicule—it was especially fitting in this moment.
He had studied hundreds of sword and spear manuals. The execution squad as a whole matched Bai Hui's skill. What could tip the scales was a slight variable. Such an obvious solution, yet how had he hesitated?
"Hey, you!"
With frenzied laughter, Zhang Ping broke free from Bai Hui's domain. The startled Bai Hui reached to grab him, but his limp dodged the hand. One execution squad member seized the opening and charged. He believed one man was enough to take Zhang Ping's life.
In his eyes burned mockery—the lifelong foe that had shadowed Zhang Ping.
"Die!"
The kitchen knife's blade curved. In Zhang Ping's eyes, it all appeared crystal clear. The enemy aimed for his weakness: his injured leg.
Humans react defensively to attacks on weaknesses. The executioner planned to follow up and sever his life.
Zhang Ping saw it and calculated. No misalignment—he was certain. All that remained was execution.
He didn't block the incoming blade. He didn't dodge. Just as the girl had shown, he ignored it and stepped forward strongly.
His limping foot hit the ground.
The eerie kitchen knife flew—slash. It cruelly severed his leg. But in exchange, he gained a leap toward the enemy.
Zhang Ping tackled the man. The executioner panicked. Seizing the gap, Zhang Ping snapped his head back. Qi loaded in his heart gathered at his forehead. Bam!
The foe with a shattered nose couldn't endure. As he collapsed unconscious, Zhang Ping mounted him and grabbed a fist-sized rock—one he had eyed earlier, heavy and sharp-edged.
Splurt! The face caved in. Blood sprayed. Splurt!
Killing intent and laughter, fresh blood and death. Raw violence hammered down at the face again and again. He didn't stop until the body twitched its last. Zhang Ping's face was dyed vivid red with blood.
"Anyone else wanna come at me?"
The shocking scene drew the execution squad's eyes. A red trajectory pierced the opening. With that, the fight was decided.
Thud. Bai Hui pulled his longsword from someone's chest.
"What the hell was that?"
His calm tone belied the frantic staunching of blood. Looking at the flustered Bai Hui pressing acupoints, Zhang Ping grinned.
"Hey. Look over there."
Bai Hui reflexively turned, his eyes gleaming.
There lay the scarred-face giant, dead. The girl stood before his corpse. And the remnants slowly approached her, bowing deeply.
Zhang Ping's giggling amid the pain echoed.
"A true prophet proves themselves in crisis. I just wanted to follow my master."
"Are you insane?"
"Damn right I am. Crazy as hell. Ah! Sorry for doubting you!"
Zhang Ping shouted. And for the first time, he felt it. The absence of the limp that had plagued his leg. In its place, the Reverse Heaven qi lodged in his heart ceaselessly infused strength through his body.
Sweet, exhilarating, thrilling.
"Now... it begins."
Zhang Ping breathed joyfully. Bai Hui, having finished staunching, sheathed his sword.
The dark clouds were parting. Sunlight poured through, shining on the girl.