Sword, Silver, Poison (3)
If Dang Hong had developed her own secret swordsmanship by adapting the Sichuan Tang Clan's hidden weapon techniques, then Dang Ryong had drawn inspiration from his aunt's martial arts to create his own hidden weapons.
It was a method of hurling silver needles connected by silver thread.
A thrown hidden weapon could simply be dodged by the opponent. But Dang Ryong's silver needles flew slower than secret swords, utterly silent and without a trace of presence.
Like a light leaf drifting lazily through the air before falling.
And the moment it touched the opponent's flesh, it burrowed straight into their acupoint.
A hidden technique perfectly suited to its name: a dragon lurking in a silent lake.
Dang Hong's secret swordsmanship was executed with a flick of the wrist and fingers, but Dang Ryong's Quiet Lake Hidden Dragon was controlled by channeling internal energy through the silver thread.
Hence, it produced no sound or warning.
The pinnacle of hidden weapons, much like being colorless and odorless.
Yet the terror of Quiet Lake Hidden Dragon was amplified by its wielder, Dang Ryong himself. He could hurl and manipulate the silver needle even amid fierce exchanges of blows.
By the time the opponent realized it, the needle was already embedded in their vital acupoint, paralyzing them with acupoint strikes.
The needle now lodged in Seo Baek's hands struck the Hegu acupoints on the backs of both.
The Hegu acupoint governed the circulation of qi and blood throughout the body. Dang Ryong's internal energy seeped into it via the silver thread, rendering Seo Baek unable to exert any strength in his hands.
Had Seo Baek been circulating the Shika Heart Method, he would have sensed the needle's presence.
The Shika Heart Method sharpened his senses to such a degree that not even a needle could approach undetected.
Dang Ryong sent a transmission with his arms crossed. Now that victory was decided, his eyes had dulled with disinterest.
Seo Baek remained silent.
Seo Baek fell silent.
Dang Ryong flicked two fingers up and down. A faint frictional scrape emanated from where the ring connected to the silver thread—the sound of internal energy flowing through it.
Kiririk, kiririk.
Thud. Seo Baek's sword clattered to the floor.
His hands moved of their own accord, palms opening wide.
Thump. This time, his legs buckled involuntarily, forcing him to his knees.
A marionette dancing to Dang Ryong's commands. He had infused internal energy through the silver thread to control Seo Baek's body.
Ordinary acupoint strikes induced fainting or paralysis. Some sects sealed the mouth to silence foes, with countless variations across schools.
But Dang Ryong could inject internal energy directly through the embedded needle, elevating his technique to another level.
Suddenly, Seo Baek recalled his master's words.
"The martial arts of the Central Plains are countless. Never underestimate even those who aren't masters. Those with unique killing moves are more fearsome than experts."
"Then how do we counter an unknown technique we've never faced?"
"The second-best is avoiding their hidden killing move altogether."
"And the best?"
"Strike their throat first."
His master's advice boiled down to one principle.
First strike wins.
But without the Shika Heart Method, he hadn't severed his foe with a single slash...
A situation where his master's counsel offered no aid.
Then.
Seo Baek resolved himself.
To defy his master's teaching and act in direct opposition.
No matter how thoroughly acupointed, the human body always had one part that could move unless fully unconscious.
The eyes.
Seo Baek's gaze turned ice-cold.
Dang Ryong smirked at the sight.
Kiririk, kiririk. As Dang Ryong flicked his fingers, Seo Baek extended his neck forward from his kneeling position.
The perfect posture for a clean beheading.
Dang Ryong picked up his sword and approached.
Then Seo Baek's body twitched. Slowly, he straightened his back and rose to his feet.
Dang Ryong extended his left hand and flicked two fingers. But Seo Baek stood unmoving.
In an instant, Seo Baek glided forward with that gliding footwork, charging at Dang Ryong.
Shushushushu.
Dang Ryong's brow furrowed deeply at the footwork that looked nothing like Central Plains martial arts. Was this brat under twenty really from beyond the border?
But the next moment, Dang Ryong sneered coldly.
Central Plains and frontier martial arts might differ superficially, but their principles converged.
With the silver needle embedded in his acupoint, the boy's body could only obey Dang Ryong's will.
Kiririk, kiririk. Dang Ryong flicked his fingers.
Seo Baek's body hesitated for a split second, but his feet never stopped—they continued gliding forward.
Dang Ryong poured internal energy through the silver thread. The sudden surge stiffened Seo Baek's needle-pierced hands like a jiangshi corpse.
Yet his footwork persisted.
Dang Ryong grimaced but regained his composure. There was no escaping his grasp anyway.
Not with the needle in his wrists.
Internal energy surged fiercely from Dang Ryong's dantian through the thread. Now the boy’s arms and legs should be nailed to the floor.
Kiririk, kiririk, kiririk.
Dang Ryong swung his sword at Seo Baek's neck.
Suddenly, a massive crash erupted.
BOOM!
"...?"
Dang Ryong furrowed his brow, then realized he'd blacked out for the briefest instant.
Regaining his senses, he found himself slumped against a pillar in the corner of the shrine hall.
Only then did he grasp what happened. He hadn't leaned back—it was the impact that had hurled him into the pillar.
Unable to use his arms, Seo Baek had barreled straight into Dang Ryong's chest with his body. A devastating body slam.
Among Shaolin's myriad arts, the Heart-Shaking Style was renowned for charging foes and detonating ferocious blows.
Dang Ryong tried to stand properly, but his legs trembled. His mind was clear, yet his body unresponsive—a concussion, likely.
Forcing his eyes open, he glimpsed Seo Baek's silhouette amid the swirling dust.
The phrase "first time ever" grated on him. It was the first time in his life he'd taken such a brutal hit.
Dang Ryong unleashed every last drop of internal energy from his dantian.
The massive surge made the hair-thin silver thread quiver in the air.
In that instant, Dang Ryong sensed something amiss. The fingers wearing his ring grew icy, as if plunged into frozen water.
Soon, his entire wrist chilled like being dunked in a winter lake through cracked ice. Then his elbow, his whole arm began to freeze solid.
Crackle, crackle, snap.
The airborne thread stretched taut, as if yanked by immense force—then snapped like overstretched rubber.
Ting.
Not severed cleanly, but shattered like glass, fragments scattering to the floor.
The silver thread, forged by master craftsmen on Sichuan Tang Clan orders, unbreakable even by blades—how?
Dang Ryong's eyes widened in genuine shock.
A fierce whirlwind raged around Seo Baek.
His windbreaker robe fluttered violently like aspen leaves, the thick dust swirling like a desert sandstorm around the vortex.
Whooooosh.
Activated.
Seo Baek snatched his fallen sword and advanced on Dang Ryong.
Step, step, step.
Dang Ryong's heart pounded. Though smaller in stature, Seo Baek exuded the pressure of an oncoming giant.
And his chilling transmission arrived.
Dang Ryong couldn't accept his defeat. Wouldn't accept it.
His trembling hand delved into his bosom and withdrew an object like a round bowl—a black face mask, the Black Face Guard.
Dang Ryong's wasn't an ordinary mouthpiece. It was woven from silk spun by golden silkworms, used to harvest colorless, odorless poisons.
It allowed breathing but blocked water and any toxin.
He donned the mask and flung his arms wide.
Black smoke erupted instantly from both sleeves, riding Seo Baek's whirlwind to blanket the entire shrine hall in seconds.
Foosh. Whoosh.
Dang Ryong's poison art blended golden silkworm toxin with another. Lacking the silkworm's invisibility, it bore a black hue and acrid sulfur stench.
Sacrificing stealth for doubled lethality.
Inhaling it caused instant coma and death; mere eye exposure led to blindness.
So potent that the smoke seeped into stone floors and wooden pillars, rotting them black in moments.
Sizzle, hiss.
The golden silkworm silk shielded Dang Ryong's mask—even it risked permanent respiratory damage after prolonged exposure.
The moment Seo Baek saw the black smoke, he knew Dang Ryong had unleashed his vile poison art.
A malice bent on killing the foe, even at self-cost.
With the Shika Heart Method at twelfth stage, a subtle protective aura enveloped him.
But the poison's ferocity overwhelmed it.
Ceasing the method meant instant inhalation and death.
I have to get out of here.
Seo Baek whirled toward the exit. But he couldn't escape—Dang Ryong had leaped to block the path.
Even masked, prolonged exposure in this poison fog would cripple Dang Ryong too.
Yet he cared nothing for his own safety.
Seo Baek slung his sword to his back and charged Dang Ryong. Dang Ryong spread his twin blades and rushed to meet him.
That was when it happened.
The shrine hall's roof collapsed, rafters and beams crashing down in a roar.
Crack! Crash!
Untended for ages amid the revenant plague, the structure had rotted from the poison and could no longer bear its weight.
The debris wasn't the issue.
Dozens of desiccated revenants, withered like dead trees from unslaked bloodlust, had piled atop the roof.
Now they tumbled down with it.
Blinded by his zeal to butcher Seo Baek, Dang Ryong reacted too late. The revenants plummeted right onto him.
"...!"
As the Sichuan Tang prodigy faced a pathetic end,
Seo Baek surged toward the revenants, sword flashing.
Shiiiing, slash.