Chapter 6
Chapter 6
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Entering Divinity
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The problem was how to find her... but that didn't seem like much of a concern either.
"Ho?"
Someone was calling out to him.
The aura that even Seon Woo Hoon hadn't sensed when he'd been with Deung Hwa was now rippling faintly, mingled with the moonlight.
"A reckless little girl."
This was quite amusing.
Seon Woo Hoon pushed aside even his initial worry about whether this might harm his old friend.
All that remained was pure curiosity.
In his aimless wandering life, forever seeking thrills across the world, Seon Woo Hoon could no longer hold back. He unleashed his inner energy from his dantian.
"Very well. Let's see what you've got."
With the intent to humor her fully, Seon Woo Hoon boldly released his energy.
The Seon Woo clan's lightness skill, Sun Swift Step, unfurled from the tips of his toes.
Its distinctive sunlight-hued glow made his path blatantly visible—far too flashy for tracking, especially at night when the energy light spread so openly.
Even as he raced through the tangled mountains, Seon Woo Hoon's speed never faltered.
Sun Swift Step was an unceasing lightness skill. Its essence lay in ceaseless motion, turning any terrain or obstacle to one's advantage, no matter the environment.
And the one deploying it was none other than the transcendent master, Seon Woo Hoon.
He reached his destination in an instant.
And there, confronted by the breathtaking scene before him, he held his breath for a moment—something he hadn't done in ages, not even in vivid memory.
For a martial arts master to pause their breathing was unthinkable.
Let alone one who had reached the transcendent realm among masters...
"Heh..."
When he laid eyes on the girl standing before him.
What came to Seon Woo Hoon's mind was the ancient legend of the Maiden of the Naked.
Her skin gleamed a faint blue, paler than moonlight itself, while the wind-tossed strands of her hair melted into the night sky.
Atop the Jo Yang Mountain peak, with the moon at her back, the girl's silhouette was breathtakingly beautiful, like something out of a dream.
If that had been merely a painting of a beauty or a maiden, it would surely have been treasured in the imperial vaults, handled with the utmost care.
It was a miracle no incidents had occurred during the months she'd spent at Zenith Temple.
Deung Hwa must have intervened, and the temple's ancient prestige had likely played a major role.
But if that girl had been of marriageable age—or even just a few years older, fully blossomed into womanhood—no temple, not even Zenith, could have kept the peace.
"...I thought I knew heaven's will by now."
The age of knowing one's destiny was nearly upon him.
Yet still, he couldn't grasp heaven's intent.
"If you're to become a nun, you should head to Mount Ami instead. In a place mixing men and women, even a Buddhist sanctuary won't offer peaceful rest."
Seon Woo Hoon's suspicions toward Wi Sowol had largely melted away from what he'd just witnessed.
Beauty makes people generous.
Wi Sowol, blended with the moonlit night, possessed a charm that could sway even him.
And one who possessed such beauty yet humbly restrained herself could hardly be evil.
If she wished, that girl—Wi Sowol—could enter the palace as a consort and aim for a position above all but the emperor, solely on her looks.
Yet she chose a temple?
Not even one like Shaolin or Mount Ami, famed for supreme arts, but Zenith Temple, filled only with scholarly monks?
In such circumstances, to blindly accuse her of malice would make one shallow indeed.
"I see you've trained in martial arts, but you shouldn't provoke masters like men—or me—so carelessly."
Offering sincere advice as a righteous wanderer and elder of a prestigious clan, Seon Woo Hoon faced an utterly unexpected retort.
"Because you're trustworthy."
"Trustworthy? Do you even know who I am?"
In his wilder youth, when Seon Woo Hoon was even more free-spirited, nearly half the reason he wasn't branded a scoundrel was his lineage.
One of the three great clans vying for supremacy among the Eight Great Clans.
His direct descent from the Seon Woo Clan had cloaked his many indulgences as youthful vigor or chivalrous spirit.
Yet ultimately, he became a revered upright master because his actions were guided by true righteousness.
Wi Sowol invoked the name that had once defined him, before the moniker Crimson Blaze Twin Dragons.
"Not for Sale at Any Price."
Not even for ten thousand gold.
To keep his word, Seon Woo Hoon had refused even the offer of vast riches in exchange for silence.
What he promised, he upheld—even if it cost his head.
Through that simple yet profoundly difficult creed, he had earned his status as an upright paragon.
"That was your moniker, wasn't it?"
"Hmmm."
Seon Woo Hoon stroked his chin beard, murmuring thoughtfully.
To encounter someone who knew that here, of all places.
"Do you know the clan leader?"
"No."
"That was ages ago."
Being remembered for old deeds was rather pleasing.
In high spirits, Seon Woo Hoon made a generous offer.
"Fine. What deal do you want with me? You mentioned that moniker for a reason."
"Your silence about me."
"And what do I get?"
"Information about me."
If gaining information meant pretending not to know it afterward, did that even count as a deal?
Seon Woo Hoon eyed Wi Sowol silently, conveying that intent.
A master's gaze inherently carried physical force.
Even a glance could seize a lesser martial artist's soul.
Yet Wi Sowol remained utterly composed.
As if she weren't the inferior one at all—as if they were simply conversing.
"Quite confident."
"You won't be disappointed."
Despite her youth, her blunt, familiar tone brimmed with self-assurance.
She was perfectly polite to Deung Hwa, after all.
Yet it didn't feel unpleasant—perhaps due to that appearance of hers.
It suited her so perfectly, like a tailored garment.
"Alright, then. Figuring out that 'information' is on me, I take it?"
As he spoke, Seon Woo Hoon rested his callused hands atop his beloved weapons.
Crimson Dragon Sword in his left hand.
Fiery Dragon Saber in his right.
The left-sword, right-saber battle stance was set.
Seon Woo Hoon was a tiger.
And tigers hunted rabbits with full force.
He always gave his all, no matter the foe—even a novice.
"First strike... hm?"
Wi Sowol extended her smooth, uncallused palm.
What was that dainty little hand up to?
A handshake before the fight? Like a friendly spar?
Or a protest that her small hands meant she couldn't go all out?
As Seon Woo Hoon puzzled over the unfamiliar gesture,
"Lend it to me. The Crimson Dragon Sword."
Wi Sowol boldly demanded his weapon, like an extension of himself.
"Pardon?"
"I need a sword, and I don't have one right now."
So she wanted his prized blade?
One of the world's famed divine weapons, the Crimson Dragon Sword?
The outrageous demand drew a grin from Seon Woo Hoon.
"I like your brazenness. Fine. Here."
He drew the Crimson Dragon Sword from its sheath at his waist and tossed it to her with a flick.
Not coddling it preciously, but treating it casually because it was dear to him.
Wi Sowol caught the flying scabbard gracefully and drew the blade in a fluid motion.
The falling sheath didn't bounce—it plunged straight into the earth with a thud.
Inner energy had been infused into it.
Seon Woo Hoon's power protected the sheath, leaving the ground unscratched.
A touch of mischief—not lending it freely—but Wi Sowol said nothing of it.
Asking a warrior for his weapon was already rude.
She could graciously overlook such a prank.
But lunging the moment she took the sword? How to interpret that.
'Even a transcendent master.'
Sneaky.
As red light flickered in Wi Sowol's eyes, a crimson line slashed across where she'd stood.
The horizontal cut of Deep Crimson Saber Art.
'Unnecessarily flashy.'
Like most Seon Woo Clan techniques.
Deep Crimson Saber Art came with a glaring energy glow that hurt the eyes.
Thus, its trajectories were easy to read—but it wielded power worth enduring for.
A fatal wound the instant it connected.
Wi Sowol's arm, gripping the Crimson Dragon Sword, swept through the air.
The pristine white energy of Great White Light True Qi clashed against the black sky, weaving crimson and white.
What seemed a futile swing channeled sword force to create a counter-shockwave, spinning her body faster and breaking free from the saber art's path.
She barely dodged.
One slip, and her blood would have mingled with the crimson saber light.
An overwhelming gap.
Even a casual greeting strike forced her into desperate full-body contortions to evade.
Yet that was Wi Sowol's brilliance.
The chasm between a transcendent master and a martial novice was vast beyond measure.
Put bluntly, if a transcendent master said "die," the wise novice would thank them and end it painlessly.
Wi Sowol knew every form of Deep Crimson Saber Art inside out and anticipated the ambush.
She'd secured several advantages besides.
Yet she evaded by a hair's breadth.
This drove it home.
'Not enough.'
She'd deprived the one-sword, one-saber master Seon Woo Hoon of his sword.
Used Zenith Temple and the night to limit his inner energy output.
Swapped a Silver Sword Sect junk sword for the divine Crimson Dragon Sword.
Still, no path to victory.
Of course.
Transcendent masters weren't human.
One could overcome peak masters with matchups, experience, environment, luck.
But transcendent masters? Impossible.
They had shed human limits, shining their own stars upon the earth.
"Fine footwork!"
He was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Wi Sowol met the plunging Fiery Dragon Saber—as if she'd foreseen the pursuit—with the Crimson Dragon Sword.
Deflect? No, it'd crush the sword flat.
Parry? Impossible. Her wrist would snap.
'As expected. I need it.'
Until now, Wi Sowol had refined only Great White Light True Qi.
She'd meticulously rebuilt its formulas—hastily crafted at first—while converting the Nine Yin Absolute Meridian's yin energy, which eroded her lifespan moment by moment, into inner force.
Life at Zenith Temple had demanded no more.
No fights, no need to flaunt martial prowess.
But now.
Wi Sowol felt the urgent need for her next martial art.
'What I need to create is...'
How to walk.
How to tread the earth.
How to move the body.
How to plant herself firmly in this world.
A body technique.
Through her Baihui acupoint—flung wide by the absolute meridian's side effects—a flash of inspiration poured into Wi Sowol's mind.
All the ingredients for inventing a body technique were gathered.
A path once trodden.
Even if direction and hue changed, could the essence of a path change?
The countless body techniques she'd seen in her past life.
The one she'd forged herself, Solitary Yang Gives Birth, infused with Nine Yang Absolute Meridian energy.
Even alone, yang brings forth life.
Defying yin-yang duality, it had inscribed life upon the earth through pure yang circulation alone—but she could use it no longer.
Discard it.
Dismantle it.
From the ground up.
What she took was the self-assertion embedded in Solitary Yang Gives Birth.
She was sick of it.
Being bound by heaven's punishment.
Neither yang nor yin would define her.
As resolve stirred, fragmented knowledge wove into coherent verses.
"Taking earth as heaven, sun and moon have risen, yet here starlight lingers absent." "Thus, where I tread shall birth stars, and every star in the heavens my footsteps shall be."
⟨ Star Lodge Traces ⟩
Wi Sowol's determination manifested through her small frame.
A unique martial art, hers alone, distinguishing self from non-self, sprouted at that moment.
To her eyes—those that inscribed stars themselves—the sight was like countless constellations plummeting as a meteor shower.
Or as if Wi Sowol herself became a star, her motion tracing a constellation.
The Fiery Dragon Saber, unfolding Deep Crimson Saber Art, halted its ascent and bowed its head.
Silence descended with the stars.
Just now, Seon Woo Hoon had witnessed his ultimate technique utterly dismantled by pure bodily motion alone.
Martial principle against martial principle.
He'd been completely overwhelmed.
His clan art, wielded by a transcendent master like himself—by a girl of barely ten.
His fighting spirit shattered, his mind clouded in bewilderment.
Seon Woo Hoon, no longer thinking of swinging his saber, asked blankly.
"Could it be... you just created that now?"