Chapter 294
Chapter 294
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 294
Chapter Title: The Butcher's Art
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Shudder!
Just then, Bu Eun-seol's black sword began to tremble, emitting a circular radiance.
As the fatal strike closed in, the Neung-hyeong-eo-geom technique activated on its own.
Clang! Clang-clang-clang!
Bu Eun-seol's black sword deflected the Fourth Swordsman's ultimate technique, then perfectly intercepted the attacks of the other three.
Whoosh!
The Four Swordsmen, momentarily stunned by the power of the Neung-hyeong-eo-geom, retreated in unison.
“A formidable sword style.”
The First Swordsman nodded, his eyes betraying a hint of surprise.
“Of all the sword styles I have witnessed, that was the most perfect defense.”
He raised his sword to a ready stance.
“But even if you perform such a feat again, a flaw will eventually reveal itself.”
His words were an ultimatum.
“This time, you will surely die.”
Click.
Bu Eun-seol sheathed his black sword and stared calmly at the First Swordsman.
“Try me.”
A bone-white chill seemed to emanate from his blood-soaked eyes.
“I will show you just how futile your actions are.”
In that instant, the air in the chamber froze. They realized his words were not born of simple confidence.
“Hahaha.”
The First Swordsman burst into laughter, a look of disbelief on his face.
“Have you already deciphered the Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik?”
“There was nothing to decipher.”
Bu Eun-seol’s voice was cold.
“It was never a perfect sword style to begin with.”
In an instant, the expressions of all Four Swordsmen changed.
They had spent half their lives striving to create the perfect sword style.
And now, with a single sentence, Bu Eun-seol had dismissed their efforts and their creation.
“The Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik… not a perfect style?”
“You will understand when you see it.”
“Very well.”
Shhhk!
Once again, three of the swordsmen unleashed their techniques in sequence.
With the three of them attacking together, they could easily block all of Bu Eun-seol’s moves.
Then, when the Fourth Swordsman spotted an opening and struck repeatedly, Bu Eun-seol would inevitably crumble.
Ching! Chaang!
Bu Eun-seol and the three swordsmen engaged in a fierce exchange at close range.
The Fourth Swordsman held back, carefully observing Bu Eun-seol’s every move.
‘Now!’
The Fourth Swordsman, who had been waiting for his chance, spotted a weakness and thrust toward Bu Eun-seol’s side.
Chik-chik!
Bu Eun-seol’s sword style abruptly changed.
He brandished his sword erratically as if drunk, then suddenly froze in a bizarre stance.
In that moment, not only the three swordsmen but also the Fourth, who was in mid-attack, were so bewildered they had no choice but to halt.
‘Did he intentionally conceal his forms?’
The First Swordsman cried out in his mind, thoroughly shocked.
When swordsmanship reaches its zenith, one can imbue the profound will of the sword even while concealing its forms.
Could it be that Bu Eun-seol’s swordsmanship had reached a divine level, allowing him to hide his forms and execute unpredictable moves?
Chiiik!
Just then, Bu Eun-seol’s haphazard swordplay changed once more.
It suddenly transformed into a swift and precise style, like a bolt of lightning.
Then, his blade bent like a whip, suddenly coiling around the Second Swordsman’s arm.
“Don’t fall for it!”
The Second Swordsman cried out with a sharp grunt as his arm was slashed.
“He saw that we attack in sequence! He’s using a formless style to disrupt the Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik, then launching a killing blow in the opening!”
Hearing this, the other swordsmen couldn't hide their astonishment.
They had never imagined he would break their technique in such a way.
“I thought you were about to unveil some incredible sword art. Was it just the principle of formlessness overcoming form?”
The First Swordsman scoffed as he pushed Bu Eun-seol back with a powerful strike.
“Do you think such a petty trick will work more than once?”
“Not at all.”
A cold smile touched Bu Eun-seol’s lips.
“I merely used the principle of formlessness overcoming form to show you how deluded your dream was.”
“What?”
“Try again.”
Bu Eun-seol looked down on the First Swordsman, his voice chilling.
“It will be the last sword style you ever perform in this life.”
It was the final warning of a death god.
But the Four Swordsmen merely snorted. They could only assume Bu Eun-seol was bluffing.
“If you could break our Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik, you would have done so already.”
The First Swordsman smiled coldly and addressed the others.
“There is no need to be swayed by his words.”
He then raised his sword nonchalantly.
As if on cue, the four swordsmen began to execute their techniques simultaneously.
Shuuuk!
As they moved as one, their power seemed to rend the heavens and the earth.
The Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik, striking from four directions at once.
It was a perfect sword form designed to exploit an enemy’s weaknesses, making it impossible to counter. The only option was to retreat continuously.
Sleung.
But Bu Eun-seol did not evade. He stood still, watching their attacks approach.
‘He talks big, but he plans to use the principle of formlessness again.’
A sneer appeared on the faces of all four swordsmen.
They believed that the moment their swords connected, he would suddenly change his form and counterattack as he did before.
‘Useless. When all four of our styles are unleashed, ours becomes a perfect sword style that corresponds to it.’
A triumphant smile played on the First Swordsman's lips.
The Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik grew more powerful the more advanced the opponent's sword style was.
No matter how Bu Eun-seol attacked, their technique would instantly adapt and form a perfect response.
Swaaek!
Finally, just as their swords were about to pierce Bu Eun-seol’s body,
Woooong!
A black light suddenly erupted from Bu Eun-seol’s entire body, simultaneously enveloping their swords.
Yeo-ui-jin-gyeol.
The transcendent art that could shape powerful inner energy into any form had been unleashed once again.
Puk.
The four longswords made contact with Bu Eun-seol’s body. But thanks to the Yeo-ui-jin-gyeol, they only pierced his skin lightly.
“Is this your perfect sword form?”
In that instant, the faces of the Four Swordsmen, their swords extended, turned pale.
By not countering their attacks but instead enveloping them with the Yeo-ui-jin-gyeol, Bu Eun-seol had effortlessly shattered their Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik.
The Four Swordsmen froze.
How could this be possible?
Flash!
In that moment, Bu Eun-seol's black sword drew consecutive circles in the air.
Clatter.
Simultaneously, four hands fell to the floor. He had severed the wrists of the Four Swordsmen, their hands still gripping their swords.
Pshuuut!
Blood gushed from the severed wrists of the Four Swordsmen.
But they didn't even think to staunch the bleeding, their eyes wide with shock.
—The Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik was a deluded dream?
Their gazes were vacant.
They had dedicated their lives to creating the perfect sword style.
And finally, they had created the Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik, a style that not only instantly identified weaknesses during battle,
but also allowed four masters to compensate for each other’s flaws to execute a perfect technique.
To complete it, they had spent another ten years training in a lightless stone chamber.
But that was all just a deluded style, shattered in a single move by this young master?
Then what had they been doing for the past ten years?
“How…”
The First Swordsman, his head raised, muttered in despair.
“The Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik can break any sword style. The stronger the enemy’s technique, the stronger our own forms become. And yet…”
Bu Eun-seol cut his lament short.
“Your Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik is nothing more than four men covering for each other’s shortcomings. It could never be called a perfect style.”
Bu Eun-seol stated calmly.
“Moreover, while your sword skills are high, your mental discipline is pathetic.”
“Mental discipline…”
“The moment the Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik was broken, didn't you act as if you were nothing but empty shells?”
The bodies of the Four Swordsmen flinched in unison, recalling that moment.
“The arrogance of believing you had created a perfect sword style. And when it was shattered, you were unable to maintain your composure and fell into despair. That is why you lost.”
A realization flashed through the minds of the Four Swordsmen.
From the beginning, they had held the advantage in swordsmanship.
If they had pressed their attack with tenacity and persistence, Bu Eun-seol would have faced a considerable struggle.
But the Four Swordsmen were filled with the confidence and arrogance of having created a perfect sword style.
And when it was instantly thwarted by Bu Eun-seol’s Yeo-ui-jin-gyeol, they were overcome with despair and a sense of futility.
A single broken technique did not mean defeat.
But the despair and helplessness they felt at seeing the Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik shattered had caused them to freeze for a split second.
Bu Eun-seol had not missed that opening, and in that instant, he had severed their hands.
“You created an outstanding sword style, but you failed to accumulate the corresponding combat experience and discipline.”
The First Swordsman gazed into the void and let out a great sigh.
“Have ten years of study been undone in a single day by a true master of the sword?”
All Four Swordsmen wore expressions of shame.
Bu Eun-seol’s entire body had been lacerated by the Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik.
There was hardly an untouched spot on him, yet he had shown no fear or despair, and in the end, he had broken their style.
“We were too obsessed with a perfect sword style.”
After murmuring weakly, the First Swordsman coughed up blood and collapsed to the floor.
Thud. Thud.
Then, the remaining swordsmen also collapsed, blood trickling from their mouths.
Despair.
They were old, and they no longer had the energy to create a greater sword art.
With no hope left, they had severed their own heart meridians and taken their own lives.
“……”
Watching them, Bu Eun-seol turned away impassively.
A great martial artist, when teaching their disciples, imposes not only physical but also mental pressure and trials.
This is because the higher the level one reaches, the more important mental discipline and enlightenment become over martial skill.
Bu Eun-seol had cultivated a high level of mental discipline by tending to corpses, by playing dead, and through Bu Jan-yang's teachings.
But the Four Swordsmen had likely walked a smooth path their entire lives.
They had probably hit their first wall, and out of desperation, created the Cheon-ui-mu-bong-sik.
Filled with pride at having created a perfect sword style, they were devastated when it was broken.
Moreover, they were old and lacked the mental fortitude to wield their style with tenacity... Defeat was inevitable.
‘This is the life of a martial artist.’
No matter how hard one struggles, one will be defeated or killed upon meeting a superior master.
Knowing this, Bu Eun-seol did not cling to life. He simply trained with all his might every single day.
So that he would have no regrets, not even for a single moment, not knowing when or where he might close his eyes for the last time.
Tuk, tuk.
Bu Eun-seol’s robes were already soaked in blood, turning them into a crimson garment.
But he straightened his back and walked on. No trial could make him bend.
Finally, he arrived before the iron door at the end of the hall.
‘Seo Jin-ha.’
Bu Eun-seol took a deep breath.
He had seen through their entire scheme.
No matter what happened next, he must not fall into despair or frustration.
If his spirit were to break, his martial arts would not progress another inch…
Or, consumed by rage, his humanity might be erased, and he could become a great demon thirsting for blood.
‘But…’
Bu Eun-seol bit his lip.
Though he had a cold personality, thanks to Bu Jan-yang’s care, he had become a man with a current of intense emotion flowing deep within him.
If not, he would not have dedicated his entire life to revenge.
‘I’m afraid.’
Bu Eun-seol was, frankly, afraid.
Afraid that hope would vanish before his eyes. Afraid that these emotions, due to deep despair and anger, would fly away somewhere beyond his reach…
Kuuung.
As he opened the thick iron door, a great tremor seemed to run through his mind.
Seo Jin-ha was before him.
Hanging from iron chains attached to the stone wall, his entire body, except for his face, was stained a deep red.
And on the floor, pieces of flesh flayed from his body were scattered about.
“Quite impressive.”
And in front of him stood a middle-aged man, calmly holding a razor like one used by a monk to shave a head.
“The Life-Ending Razor?”
Bu Eun-seol’s eyes glinted as he stared intently at the razor, and the middle-aged man nodded.
“Huhu, you have a good eye.”
The middle-aged man smiled faintly and nodded.
“That’s right. I am Dong Yeo-rip.”
The Life-Ending Razor, Dong Yeo-rip.
He was one of the Ten Greats of the Demonic Path, a title for the previous generation's strongest masters, and the martial world’s greatest torturer.
He was famous for torturing people to death with his Life-Ending Razor, earning him another moniker, Go-sa, meaning Torture-Death.
He was over eighty years old, but due to his profound internal energy, he still had the appearance of a middle-aged man.
“To come here with all your limbs intact after facing the Four Swordsmen is truly remarkable.”
Behind Dong Yeo-rip, a dozen martial artists stood at rigid attention.
“But these men are different. They are my personally trained disciples, and they have consumed In-hwa for a long time.”
The eyes of every one of them were vacant.
Dong Yeo-rip’s nature was so wicked that he had even steeped his own disciples in drugs, turning them into soulless puppets.
But Bu Eun-seol didn't even glance at Dong Yeo-rip or his puppets.
His gaze was fixed on Seo Jin-ha, who hung motionless, his skin flayed.
“Did you torture him?”
“I did.”
Dong Yeo-rip spoke with a tranquil expression.
“Starting from his fingers, to the back of his hands and his chest… I sliced his body thinly with three hundred and fifty-five cuts.”
“……”
“He finally fainted around the hundredth cut. I woke him up intermittently and continued. When he was exhausted, I fed him porridge and then started again.”
He was an expert in torture.
He knew well how to shatter not only the body but also the mind.
With words like these, he intended to overwhelm Bu Eun-seol’s calm spirit with rage.
The emotion of anger could sometimes grant immense power.
But for a master of Bu Eun-seol’s level, it was merely a cumbersome obstacle.
“Seo Jin-ha.”
Bu Eun-seol carefully called his name.
But there was no response.
In that moment, Bu Eun-seol’s eyes wavered like ripples on water.
The image of his grandfather dying a wretched death had momentarily overlapped with the sight before him.
Shudder.
As Bu Eun-seol’s body trembled with rage, Dong Yeo-rip smiled in satisfaction.
“Let me give you a piece of advice.”
A cruel smile graced his lips.
“Make sure you smile while you're being tortured. It's my personal rule not to slit the throat of a smiling man.”
Bu Eun-seol lowered his head.
“Why did you torture him?”
“Because he might have had information we didn't know.”
Dong Yeo-rip shrugged.
“They said he was a squad leader of the Cheonsal-dae. His willpower was certainly impressive.”
The corners of his lips lifted as he continued, aiming to shatter Bu Eun-seol’s spirit just a little bit more.
“I’ve tortured countless men over several decades.”
Dong Yeo-rip prodded the body of Seo Jin-ha hanging on the wall.
He looked like a butcher weighing a carcass.
Tut-tut-tuk.
As he did, crimson blood and bits of flesh that hadn't been completely carved off rained down to the floor.
“The number of times I haven’t been able to get a single word out of someone is…”
His words were cut short.
With a flash of purple lightning, blood spurted from the necks of the soulless puppets standing on either side of Dong Yeo-rip.
“When…”
Dong Yeo-rip’s eyes widened as he looked down at the blood splattered on his cheek.
He too was a master who had set foot in the Extreme Heavenly Realm. How could he have failed to even see what Bu Eun-seol had done?
“You don't deserve to live.”
A bloody light flickered in Bu Eun-seol’s eyes.
And his voice was the final murmur of a death god before inscribing a name in the book of the dead.