Sword, Silver, Poison (2)
Tssst.
Dang Ryong's form floated up light as a feather, hurtling straight toward Seo Baek.
His lightness skill was so smooth that not a single speck of dust rose from the floor of the ancient shrine.
It must be something like the Wudang Clan's lightness skill, the kind you only hear about in stories, Seo Baek thought.
But his opponent was from the Sichuan Tang Clan. Weren't they famous for swift dark arts and insidious poison techniques?
On the other hand, Dang Ryong's lightness skill was so refined it made you doubt he was really from the Tang Clan.
Yet the Tang Clan's infamous reputation was no joke.
In an instant, Dang Ryong's form shot toward Seo Baek like an arrow from a bow.
Screeeeech.
It was a thunderous rush, as if lightning had struck.
Instinctively, Seo Baek laid his sword horizontally to block the twin blades.
Claaaang.
A deafening crash echoed through the shrine, shaking the air.
At the same time, a shockwave swept over Seo Baek's body, kicking up dust from the floor that stung his eyes.
Tremendous inner energy loaded into those twin swords.
The moment he scanned the swirling dust for Dang Ryong's form, a whisper seemed to brush right against his ear—a sound transmission.
"Not bad."
Without giving him a moment to breathe, two swords shot from Dang Ryong's sleeves, slicing through the dust cloud.
Seo Baek spun his sword like a windmill, deflecting both strikes. Sparks flew as metal grated against metal amid the dust.
Kagagang.
"Not bad at all."
Dang Ryong's eyebrow twitched for a split second at Seo Baek's retort.
The two charged at each other, exchanging dozens of clashes in a frenzy.
Papapap.
Seo Baek's greatsword was hard to wield in tight spaces.
No matter how monstrous his strength, hacking through obstacles while swinging had its limits.
Flying swords were no different.
Dang Ryong hid his twin blades in his sleeves, then hurled them like thrusts before yanking them back by their T-shaped hilts to prevent them from flying astray.
In other words, his style was a form of flying sword technique.
Flying swords were less constrained by space than a greatsword. But the shrine was cluttered with pillars and wooden statues blocking their paths.
Both fighters were hampered by their weapons and the terrain.
Yet like a master calligrapher unhindered by the brush, these two peak experts ignored the drawbacks.
Dang Ryong shortened the thrust range of his swords, stabbing at Seo Baek's vital points like an acupuncturist. His twin blades seemed to multiply into dozens.
Shhhsh shick.
In response, Seo Baek didn't swing. He held his sword vertically, using the hilt as a pivot to spin the flat of the blade like a top, parrying the onslaught.
It looked ridiculous, like a child playing with a rattle drum.
But the effect was devastating.
Dozens of strikes in a single breath—all deflected by Seo Baek's spinning blade.
Kakakakakakang!
In that brief moment of defense, Seo Baek's mind raced with calculations.
If this keeps up, I'll lose to those twin swords eventually.
The Shika Sword Technique was a domineering style that wielded a sword larger than one's body like a switch, smashing foes flat.
But he couldn't unleash it now.
He'd been channeling the Shika Heart Method for over half a shichen, and had to fight before recovering his breath.
I have to handle him with pure swordplay, without the Heart Method.
Seo Baek's eyes gleamed.
That sword technique...
As Dang Ryong's twin blades flew again, Seo Baek tilted his sword sideways—unlike before—angling it to meet them.
He deflected them off the flat, letting their momentum carry them toward Dang Ryong's wrists.
One Stand, Two Displays.
Swoooosh.
Dang Ryong twisted away, pulling his hands back as Seo Baek's stance shifted.
But he wasn't just dodging. He spun full circle, slashing at Seo Baek's nape with his other sword.
Seo Baek didn't block. He pivoted in the same direction with a footwork step. Dang Ryong's blade shadowed his head, inches away.
Then Seo Baek raised his sword over his shoulder, pressing it against Dang Ryong's to guide it aside.
The difference: rotational force layered onto the stance.
Two Stands, Three Displays.
Suddenly, Seo Baek's blade naturally arced toward Dang Ryong's throat.
If he swung those twins now, he'd sever his own artery before hitting Seo Baek.
In the end, Dang Ryong leaped back three steps.
It worked.
Seo Baek smirked inwardly.
Those two moves weren't from the Shika Sword Technique. They were taught by his master's wife.
Her laughter echoed in Seo Baek's ears even now.
Now's the time.
He pursued the retreating Dang Ryong with a triumphant strike—the killing blow of Jade and Stone: I Live, Then Slay Him.
Swooooosh, pop.
* * *
As Seo Baek closed in with fluid steps, Dang Ryong scowled.
Until moments ago, the boy had wielded purely ferocious swordplay.
Now he countered with flowing softness—two different techniques, back to back.
And he was charging again, gliding like on a frozen winter rink—an eerie footwork alien to Central Plains martial arts.
Dang Ryong's brow furrowed again.
Freaky bastard.
The boy couldn't have learned frontier arts from beyond the wall. Or maybe he was one of those hidden masters who came from the borders.
Some recluses who emerged into the jianghu wielded opposing styles—fierce and yielding—in tandem.
Common wisdom said you needed at least a decade of age for such mastery.
Yet this boy looked barely twenty.
Dang Ryong now understood why his aunt Dang Hong had fallen to him.
Charge with that freakishly long sword and cleave in one stroke. Its immense weight could crush or shatter weapons.
A style that mocked the flashy, showy arts of the Central Plains.
But that's as far as you go.
The boy must have burned all his inner energy fleeing the revenant horde; he was fighting on external strength alone.
Dang Ryong couldn't fathom it. With such meager inner power, how had he slain Dang Hong?
He had no way of knowing Seo Baek couldn't channel the Shika Heart Method yet.
Dang Ryong reached a conclusion.
Impressive for a kid under twenty, sure. But swinging that monster sword on brute force alone? You'll tire soon. How long can you last?
His gleaming eyes dulled to boredom once the math checked out.
Boring.
As Seo Baek thrust then slashed in an arc, Dang Ryong planted his foot on the flat of the blade. He flipped it down, pinning it to the floor.
Squelch.
The transmitted force numbed Seo Baek's arms; he nearly dropped the sword. He tried to pull it free—immovable.
Thousand-Jin Hammer technique?
Thousand-Jin Hammer used inner energy to instantly increase one's weight.
Even without the Heart Method, the inner energy gap shouldn't be this vast.
The Tang Clan's arts were infamous for insidiousness, yet Dang Ryong balanced external and internal arts masterfully—unlike the rumors.
A sect entrenched in the Central Plains for ages wouldn't skew one-sidedly.
With one foot pinning the sword, Dang Ryong crossed his arms arrogantly and sent a transmission.
"I already know what you're thinking. Thousand-Jin Hammer, right?"
Seo Baek frowned.
From Dang Ryong's words, it wasn't. The problem: he couldn't identify the technique.
Suddenly, something glinted in his vision.
Thin silver threads extended from the backs of both his hands.
They stretched across the air to Dang Ryong, who wore rings on his left ring and pinky fingers—the threads connected there.
"Took you long enough. Slow sword, slow eyes."
When Dang Hong adapted Man-Heaven Flower Rain into her unique Earthly Thunderclap, Dang Ryong had spied and drawn inspiration.
A natural prodigy in martial arts from youth,
he fused her flying swordplay with Tang Clan dark arts: hurling silver needles tethered by silver threads.
Invisible as gossamer, they flew silent and unseen.
By the time the foe noticed, vital acupoints were pierced.
Dang Ryong's solo creation:
Still Lake Hidden Dragon.
Seo Baek couldn't free his sword—not from Dang Ryong's foot, but because silver needles acupointed his hands like pressure points. His arms were paralyzed.
A perfect defeat for Seo Baek.