Chapter 87
Chapter 87
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: The Second and Third Trials
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The second trial began in a place that resembled an underground prison.
The air inside was a mix of a foul, musty odor and dampness, with faint oil lamps hanging on the stone walls.
“To master the sword art created by our society, one must not only have pure internal energy but also tenacious endurance and a frightening degree of willpower.”
This trial was being conducted by U-hak, not Seok-song.
He looked at the twenty or so masked individuals and spoke in a low voice.
“When the gong sounds, you must hold a horse stance with your arms outstretched for two hours. If your stance breaks, or if you cannot endure, you will be eliminated.”
U-hak added with a slight smile.
“If you find you cannot hold out, you are free to break the stances of others. Of course, you must maintain your own horse stance while doing so.”
Upon hearing this, the stone chamber filled with murmurs.
Though their identities were hidden, those invited here were all prodigies of the younger generation who had already made a name for themselves.
But to hold a horse stance, something for beginners, for a full two hours?
“This is a matter of pride.”
The man in the dog mask sighed and shook his head.
“Frankly, it's not like I'm desperate for the Cheon-geom-hoe's swordsmanship.”
Most of the others nodded in agreement with the man in the dog mask.
All of them came from impressive backgrounds; few were truly thirsty for new martial arts.
They had come only because the long-renowned Cheon-geom-hoe was offering to teach its techniques without any restrictions.
“I will not do it.”
The man in the dog mask finally said to U-hak.
“I would rather properly master my own clan's swordsmanship than learn one by stooping to this.”
His use of the word ‘clan’ suggested the man in the dog mask might be a master from one of the Eight Great Families.
Three people standing behind him also nodded.
“I will leave as well. I have no desire to learn a sword art if it means doing this.”
“I agree. I only came out of curiosity when I heard they were passing down their sword art unconditionally. There's no need to go this far.”
Martial artists have strong pride.
Especially the descendants of major sects or renowned families, who could learn advanced martial arts whenever they pleased. They had no need to swallow their pride just to learn a new technique.
U-hak nodded calmly.
“That may be a wise choice. Those who wish to leave may exit immediately.”
At that, the four individuals, including the man in the dog mask, immediately left the stone chamber.
*What a shame.*
Bu Eun-seol was disappointed.
*I was expecting a duel, at least.*
Those who just left were likely descendants of famous families or disciples of major sects.
He thought he would get to have a bloody duel with them… but instead, it was a test of holding a horse stance.
*Such a peaceful way to pass on martial arts.*
In the Ma-jeon, they made candidates kill each other to select the most talented.
But the Cheon-geom-hoe's trial was utterly peaceful. They were simply testing for the qualities they desired through a fair test.
“Then, let us begin.”
At U-hak's words, the eleven remaining masked individuals, including Bu Eun-seol, immediately assumed the horse stance.
Everyone here possessed at least a full cycle of internal energy as a baseline.
They were told to endure for two hours, but for people of their level, it was no more difficult than standing still without a thought.
“What is that smell?”
Someone sniffed the air.
The place had only been damp and dark. But now, an indescribable stench was slowly creeping in from somewhere.
“Ugh!”
At that moment, someone retched.
Tears and snot streamed down with every breath.
They tried circulating their energy to resist poison, but it was useless. From this, they could tell it wasn't a poison.
But each breath felt like having decades-old rotten meat and entrails forcibly shoved into their noses and mouths.
“Retch!”
Before long, the stone chamber was filled with agonized groans.
Tears and snot streamed down with every breath. No matter how much they circulated their internal energy, they couldn't block the pain caused by the smell.
*Why are they making such a fuss?*
Bu Eun-seol, holding his horse stance, frowned as he watched the others suffering.
*Surely martial artists aren't smelling the stench of a corpse for the first time.*
The stench filling the chamber was none other than the smell of death—the odor of a rotting corpse.
The problem was that this wasn't an ordinary corpse smell. It was the so-called Ten-Thousand-Year Unburied Corpse Scent, a stench said to make even masters from the Jang-sang-mun, who specialized in handling the dead, cover their noses and run.
But Bu Eun-seol had always handled the bodies of those who died alone, reported to the constabulary. He had eaten noodles while cleaning a rotten corpse and had fallen asleep while stitching up ruptured intestines.
*It reminds me of preparing bodies for burial.*
To him, the stench of death was a scent that brought nostalgia and a faint longing.
“Ugh. I can't take it anymore!”
But unlike Bu Eun-seol, several men who had been struggling to hold their horse stances finally kicked the door open and ran outside.
The remaining men were trembling, barely able to maintain their horse stances.
The only saving grace was that they were wearing masks.
If they could see each other's faces, their wretched states would be revealed to the world.
“Uuuugh.”
Wails continued to echo through the stone chamber.
Those gathered in the chamber now understood why the second trial required not only internal energy and stamina but also endurance.
Even if one held their breath, the vicious stench seeped through their skin. Few could endure such torment for two hours.
“I really can't do it!”
Finally, another man holding his stance in a corner opened the door and ran out.
Then, three or four more followed suit, kicking the door open and fleeing one after another.
“Mmm.”
After about half an hour, they reached a point where they couldn't even groan.
Only then did the remaining people realize two undeniable facts.
—Not even a great immortal could last two hours in here.
The Ten-Thousand-Year Unburied Corpse Scent had already numbed not only their noses but their entire bodies' senses.
No matter how they held their breath, the smell seeped through their skin, and they felt an agony as if their internal organs were rotting from the inside out.
This kind of toxic stench wasn't usually very potent, but in a sealed space like this, its effect was comparable to one of the three deadliest poisons in the world.
—*If you find you cannot hold out, you are free to break the stances of others. Of course, you must maintain your own horse stance while doing so.*
And they understood why U-hak had said those words.
Was it by some unspoken agreement?
*Whoosh. Pak.*
The man in the pumpkin mask, standing in the middle of the chamber, attacked the knee of the man in the tiger mask while maintaining his outstretched-arm stance.
“Kuk.”
The sudden attack buckled the back of the tiger-masked man's knee inward.
But the man in the tiger mask was also a master with solid internal energy. He immediately moved his knee to counterattack.
*Pak! Tatak!*
The two masters, maintaining their horse stances, began to exchange blows, their feet moving relentlessly.
As if on cue, the others also began to eliminate the competitors around them.
*Pak.*
With a sound of cleaving air, the man in the wolf mask attacked Bu Eun-seol’s knee.
*Hwoong! Tatak!*
With the sharp swish of his clothes, the wolf-masked man shot out his foot, creating dozens of afterimages.
It was a technique similar to the Buddhist Shadowless Kick, but it was filled with killing intent.
*He intends to shatter my ankle.*
Normally, Bu Eun-seol couldn't properly use kicking techniques, as he hadn't trained in them.
But he predicted the wolf-masked man’s kicks and dodged them with ease.
He was the sole successor to Extreme Speed Shadowless Movement, the legendary movement art of Nang-ya-gak.
Having mastered an absolute movement art that combined extreme footwork and body techniques, allowing him to change position hundreds of times in a single breath, dodging mere kicks was laughably easy.
“Ack!”
A desperate scream finally erupted from the man in the wolf mask.
After a twenty-second exchange, Bu Eun-seol's ghost-like knee strike had landed squarely on the back of the wolf-masked man's knee.
“You bastard!”
His stance broken, the wolf-masked man's eyes glinted with malice as he suddenly jabbed two fingers toward Bu Eun-seol's eyes.
*Crack!*
But Bu Eun-seol's kick was faster.
With the sound of breaking bone, the man in the wolf mask let out a harrowing scream. His ankle had been crushed.
“Ugh! I'll kill you!”
The man in the wolf mask limped and immediately drew the sword from his waist.
Then, a solemn voice came from the chamber ceiling.
“This is not a place for killing. Leave the chamber at once.”
The wolf-masked man hesitated, sword in hand.
But recalling the swift swordplay Seok-song had demonstrated earlier, he gritted his teeth and left the chamber.
“You! I'll definitely kill you!”
*Whoosh, thud.*
Regardless of the wolf-masked man's departure, the stone chamber had turned into a fighting pit where everyone fought while holding a horse stance.
*Crack!*
Just then, a strike from Dang Gon, who wore a fox mask, buckled the knee of the man in the pig mask, sending him to the floor.
“You damn bastard!”
The man in the pig mask lost his composure and drew a dagger from his robes.
But that was a foolish display before a true master.
*Fwip-fwip-fwip!*
Three poisoned caltrops were already embedded in the dagger-wielding man's chest.
“Ugh...”
As the pig-masked man staggered from the poisoned caltrops, Dang Gon spoke in a low voice.
“Get out and take the antidote quickly. Otherwise, you'll suffer from Fire Poison for the rest of your life.”
“You, you're...”
Fire Poison and poisoned caltrops. Weren't those the signature poison and hidden weapon of the Dang Clan?
Realizing Dang Gon's identity, the man in the pig mask trembled. He then hastily exited the stone chamber.
In that time, only five people were left holding the horse stance in the chamber.
“The second trial is over.”
As U-hak's voice was heard, the mist that had risen in the chamber dissipated, and fresh air slowly trickled in.
“Hah.”
As if by agreement, the five remaining individuals broke their horse stances and took deep breaths.
They had endured until now by almost completely holding their breath.
—So they weren't learning this martial art for free.
Unlike the first trial, the second had inflicted a pain they had never experienced before.
The five masters remaining here looked at each other. Judging by the auras they exuded, not a single one was weak.
—No matter how you look at it, the final trial has to be a duel.
As the five masters eyed each other tensely, Seok-song and U-hak entered the chamber side by side.
“Return to the place where the first trial was held.”
When none of the five moved, Seok-song gave a wry smile.
“Do not be alarmed. We will absolutely not have you fight amongst yourselves.”
When the five who had emerged from the chamber gathered again in the clearing where the first trial took place, Seok-song spoke.
“You are all outstanding talents, possessing innate senses and killing intent. It is a great joy to pass down our sword art to talents such as you.”
He took a deep breath and continued.
“However, this sword art is a killing sword, created to take a life. It is by no means an ordinary technique.”
Everyone, including Bu Eun-seol, had expected this.
One born with innate ‘killing intent.’ Only a killing sword art would require such a condition.
Seok-song paused for a moment before speaking again.
“Now, we will begin the third trial.”
Everyone in the clearing tensed and lowered their stances.
If the second trial was this difficult, the third would be unimaginably so.
“The third trial is simple.”
But unexpected words came from Seok-song's mouth.
“You need only make a single promise to pass the third trial.”
The group all wore puzzled expressions.
Passing the third trial just by making a promise?
“What kind of promise?”
Dang Gon, in the fox mask, asked. Seok-song replied gravely.
“You must swear an oath to kill one person in exchange for learning the sword art.”
“You'll teach us the sword art just for an oath?”
“World-class talents like yourselves don't just fall from the sky.”
Seok-song smiled faintly.
“You are disciples of major sects or descendants of renowned families. I trust that an oath alone is enough to ensure you will fulfill your promise.”
For the descendants of major sects or renowned families, a promise was heavier than a thousand pieces of gold.
This was because breaking their word would tarnish not only their own honor but that of their sect or family as well.
“Leaving aside other matters, isn't promising to kill someone a bit much?”
The man in the yellow dragon mask spoke up.
“You could ask us to kill an impossible target, or someone close to us. If that person were a key figure in the Murim Alliance or the Ma-jeon, it would be a virtually impossible task.”
“A fair point.”
“Then may we know why this person must be killed?”
Seok-song groaned and then shook his head.
“There are very complicated circumstances involved. I cannot explain them in detail… but I can put it this way.”
He took a deep breath and spoke again.
“That person is our society's greatest adversary, our mortal enemy.”
Seok-song closed his eyes with a devastated expression, gritting his teeth as he spoke.
“He massacred every swordsman in our society, including our leader!”