Chapter 33
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Dagger - 2
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Black Bear Division Leader Cho Ryok. A man born as the heir to a fallen merchant guild who devoted himself to the unorthodox paths.
In the conflict between the Dragon Star Clan and the Red Tiger Society, there's a legend about him charging into the Sword Forest of Mount Dosan alongside Flying Heaven Golden Blade Yong Heuk-sal amid the blades wielded by twenty elites of the Red Tiger Society. It's said that even after taking hundreds of sword strikes, his body bore not a single wound.
He had mastered the Twelve Perfections of the Great Power Seal and honed his family's martial art, Forging Sun Iron General Assault, from childhood. At seventeen, he had already reached the Diamond Realm, where no blade could pierce his flesh. Past thirty, he believed he had attained true invulnerability.
This fight wasn't like the one where he faced punishment from the Mountain Lord without circulating his qi. He had meticulously wrapped his body in the full-body armor granted by Forging Sun Iron General Assault.
He was confident it could stand against the Half-Scar Realm and block the first strike from any Guangdong martial artist unscathed.
Tszzzt!
But a long trail of blood etched itself across his body.
'Sharp enough to raise chills!'
It wasn't a massive shock that scattered the power of Forging Sun Iron General Assault... but rather pierced the thin gap between the armor formed by his qi meridians in a single thrust. Even he, operating his inner power, had only faintly sensed that minute opening, yet the splitting sword had run it through instantly.
Shh, the chilling sensation of skin slicing thinly. But it was merely a flesh wound, so Cho Ryok swung his massive arm toward Bai Hui.
A cunning move unlike his hulking frame. If the enemy reflexively retreated, he'd fall right into the trap.
However.
'Three steps forward.'
A red trajectory traced in Bai Hui's eyes. As the Thousand Kills Star, the grandmaster of killing intent, no threat could escape his senses.
Whoosh, the club flying from behind him grazed empty air as Green Bear Gate Leader Fan Shin's strike missed. The bird-slaying blade's kitchen knife whiffed past.
Cho Ryok's Great Power Seal, which had conquered Mount Blaze, smashed an innocent brick wall instead, and the venomous serpent mad kick's strike was deflected by twisting the blade.
'Half inch to the left.'
Thud, a precisely planted step. It wasn't even proper footwork, yet his calculations were more accurate than those of a first-rate master.
Ssssk! The splitting sword, gripped in reverse, shot out in an unpredictable arc. It skimmed low along the ground, aiming for Fan Shin's jaw. In this single exchange meant to claim a life, as Bai Hui's blade sought to pierce the lower jaw—
Clang!
The Black Shadow Sword intervened. A blade adorned with a blue tassel blocked the splitting sword's path.
"Your strikes are crude and reckless. Do you know nothing of discipline?"
"I can kill people without knowing that."
"You can kill people? Hah."
He glanced around. Six enemies surrounded him.
Four division leaders, the Myriad Ghost Scholar commanding the sub-mountains, and now the Black Shadow Sword. The pressure was on another level from his fight with the Execution Squad. But Bai Hui felt no anxiety or impatience. Because the Girl was beyond his field of vision.
And because of the power she had given him.
Bai Hui circulated the sticky qi clinging to him. With each revolution, his hatred and pain amplified. His power grew, and his stamina did not wane. Deep in his heart, war drums pounded.
Kill the martial artists. Slash them down...
Watching Bai Hui's eyes turn bloodshot, the Black Shadow Sword muttered.
"A demon of the sword that thinks only of killing."
"Demon of the sword."
Aren't those who hone the art of killing for ten, twenty years all martial artists? Yet you always dress it up with fancy names.
He offered no rebuttal. No more excuses or explanations were needed.
"Then that's what I'll be."
Bai Hui's gaze sank deeper.
Why had no one ganged up on Yong Heuk-sal? Simple reason. Because Yong Heuk-sal always won.
That was the seat of the unorthodox Mountain Lord. Faith. Trust.
The leader held absolute backing within the assembly. In this back-alley world with no rules for duels, there was only one way for an unorthodox warrior to seize unshakeable authority.
Undefeated.
Never losing, not even once.
No matter the opponent, Yong Heuk-sal was always the one left standing in the end. Even if poisoned with deadly toxin, swarmed and ganged up on, or threatened with hostages in despicable ways. In fights unbound by honor, the unorthodox had endless tactics.
Every path Yong Heuk-sal tread, every battle he fought, had been lethal. Lose and you died in defeat; win and you survived. In contests of life and death, he always prevailed. Everyone in the Dragon Star Clan believed it.
They'd watch Yong Heuk-sal's victory after Bai Hui fell. Another legend would be born on Mount Blaze's night.
Whirrl, a dagger spun in his hand. Yong Heuk-sal's fingers were slender and long, perfect for throwing.
Now two daggers, then four. Like a street performer increasing the number of balls, daggers slipped between his fingers. The golden dragon engraved on the ink-black hilt writhed...
"Die!"
The daggers flew. The shortest line connecting opponent and his fingertips—one dagger claims a life.
Infusing the throw with the mysteries of thrust projection gathered at his fingertips. The spiraling dagger flew faster than sound. Silent, then a roar.
Boom!
The air tore with a sound that came only after impact. By rumor, the foe's blades couldn't pierce him and he tore men barehanded, so he'd assumed an external art master.
A strike thrown with maximum speed and power—within ten paces, he was confident even Shaolin's Diamond Invulnerability couldn't withstand it. For an ordinary warrior, the body would explode on impact.
The perfect ambush, the fastest technique. To Guangdong's top dagger, the Girl barely reacted. She merely twisted to shift the impact point.
The Girl looked at her shoulder. A golden dagger was embedded there. Her reaction held no pain, no fear. Yong Heuk-sal's eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar response.
Her hand casually yanked out the lodged dagger. Plunk. It was coated in blood two finger joints deep.
"Fast."
Her voice hadn't changed at all. Nor her eyes. Did she not realize it had been a brush with death?
Boom! Another dagger flew. This time, aimed flawlessly between the eyes. A hand thrust out invisibly fast. Dagger faster than sound.
But why was that dagger now in the Girl's hand? A dagger master's eyesight transcended imagination. It was just... unbelievable.
Yong Heuk-sal had seen it clearly. The Girl's hand moved before his dagger even flew.
'Prediction? No, impossible!'
Over thirty years honing daggers before he could even walk. Distance, humidity, timing, opponent's gaze—all perfect, no mistakes.
Must-hit.
In that brief wrist flick, no precursor. Inner power bypassed even the conception vessel, flowing directly from the arm's blood vessels via the Water Sound Heart Meridian.
The Tang Clan's impenetrable secret, passed down exclusively. He learned it to perfection from a bastard son exiled from the Tang Clan.
Unless it was a monster that could see qi with its eyes.
Boom! Kwang! Fireworks erupted from Yong Heuk-sal's grip. Four daggers flew, followed by six more. Straight shots. Arcing paths. Ssk, soaring up then plunging down.
The ten daggers of Moonlit Butterflies traced complex trajectories, hunting the Girl's life. Her response remained the same.
She snatched what she could catch. Took the hits she couldn't. Plunk! Back. Waist. Arm.
Pale skin peeked through where the daggers pierced her clothes. The Girl pulled out another dagger. Then took one step toward Yong Heuk-sal.
The dagger's piercing power barely sank two inches. Yong Heuk-sal couldn't help but smirk.
"What are you?"
Another step.
A silent pressure welled up and rippled outward. Dusk had fully fallen, night descended. The moon gleamed through the clouds.
The Girl's form vanished.
Yong Heuk-sal leaped back in alarm, kicking off the ground. Explosive sounds rang repeatedly from his fingers. Radiant Triple Thunder. Seven-Colored Flash. Twin Dragons Falling from Heaven. But none stopped her.
The next whisper came right before his eyes.
"Think what you want."
Plunk, pulling out a dagger as she approached. Yong Heuk-sal slashed wildly with daggers in both hands. Not one pierced her skin. Clack, blocked. Pak, deflected.
Then, flames erupted massively in the distance—the direction of his lifelong hoard of treasures. Yong Heuk-sal's reflexive glance back—the Girl didn't miss it. Her slender hand seized his throat, turning his head.
Expressionless.
A body riddled with punctures and slashes, covered in wounds. Blood etched everywhere. He'd expected her to writhe in agony. But a human should show some reaction, right? Even unconsciously grimace or groan from the pain.
Inner power whose origins couldn't be traced. Movements too raw to call martial arts. They even seemed half-blended from Huangfu Clan and his own clan's unique techniques.
No intel on her sect. She claimed external arts training, yet no traces on her body. No reaction even to wounds piercing vital points.
"You..."
Fluster crossed Yong Heuk-sal's eyes for the first time. Not human. That couldn't be human.
"What... the hell are you?"
The Girl smiled.