Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Henan Qing Mountain (3)
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The distance from Chang'an, home to Ink Sword Grove, to what could be called the foothills of the Taihang Mountains was roughly equivalent to the stretch from Seoul to Busan.
Seolha's shock was only natural. I'd claimed I could cover that ground in a single day.
And I could.
Even without pushing to my full speed, detouring around inhabited areas or pausing to take in the scenery along the way.
Honestly, even I found it astonishing that I'd pulled it off. Truly incredible.
The Taihang Mountains lived up to their name as a vast range—there wasn't any signpost declaring, "The Taihang Mountains begin here."
So I picked a small mountain above Zhiwan County as my starting point and began my ascent.
Climbing a mountain after sunset isn't the wisest move.
Night in the mountains is pitch black. And in this era, those hills teemed with dangerous wild beasts.
Of course, wild animals posed no threat to me whatsoever.
They'd piss themselves in terror just from my approach, so I had no worries there.
For me, night actually offered better conditions for scouting the surroundings.
Whether it was the Heavenly Mountain Legends or some secret sect, they'd have to light fires to live.
This was an age where the day's labors wrapped up at sundown, but that didn't mean they went without light entirely.
So what I sought were those very flickers of flame.
A light in the dead of night stands out more than you'd think, visible from astonishing distances. I'd learned that lesson definitively in the military.
No one who's never seen it themselves can easily grasp just how visible a cigarette glow is in the dark.
That confidence was mine.
Finding a light at night. Even a tiny lantern or campfire.
But it wasn't just nights. Days offered plenty of leads too.
No matter how vast and filthy the range, where humans lived, traces remained.
Humans treading the wilds carve paths.
To generate warmth, they felled trees. To grow food, they cleared fields.
And above all, water was essential. Without it, no human could survive, limiting habitable spots.
No matter how ideal the terrain, poor water access made it unlivable.
In any case, I roamed the pitch-black mountains like it was a casual stroll.
An unidentified shadow haunting the impenetrable darkness.
Frankly, in these hills, I might just be the scariest thing around.
If the Qing Mountain Sect truly existed, they'd be the ones jumping in fright at the sight of me.
A lunatic prowling the mountains like this in the dead of night? No normal person does that. I'd be their top threat to watch for.
And so I kept wandering.
A nameless peak. The crown of a tree. A jutting boulder. The edge of a sudden cliff.
It was ridiculous. I'd never tried hiking like this before.
Even living in 21st-century Korea, I'd never once gone climbing.
Honestly, I couldn't fathom why anyone bothered.
I'd always thought, "If you're just gonna come back down anyway, why go up?"
When I'd say that aloud, people fired back with lines like, "If you're just gonna poop it out, why eat rice? If you're just gonna wake up, why sleep?" But I'd counter, "Skip meals or sleep and you die... Hiking doesn't kill you."
Classic T personality. Of course, that kind of banter only flies with close friends.
Try it with strangers, and good luck chatting with them again.
Anyway, the me who'd thought that way? Not anymore. Hiking turned out surprisingly enjoyable.
I even wondered if the issue had never been my personality, but my stamina.
That's when I spotted a light.
At first, I doubted my eyes. This easily?
I hurried toward it.
And felt a twinge of disappointment. What I'd seen was a tiny hermitage.
A modest hermitage. A rough wooden Buddha statue visible through a slightly ajar door. Utterly spartan furnishings.
The monk there had no inner energy to speak of. Just an aged priest.
A man who'd forsaken the world for the mountains. Someone with zero ties to the martial world, by the look of him.
A bit disappointing, yes.
But I shook it off quickly. Right. Expecting to find it on the very first evening? Unrealistic.
Besides, there were positives.
At least with this hermitage here and the monk living in it, this couldn't be Qing Mountain Sect territory.
Unless he traded with them, maybe.
So I moved on. You can't fill up on the first sip. Life's an endless test of endurance.
I scoured the Taihang Mountains for three straight days, no sleep.
Traces by day, lights by night.
Vast, endless peaks upon peaks.
No thoughts of "What am I even doing?" This was just fun now.
Returned to Ink Sword Grove with nothing to show for it.
Five days round trip. More manageable than expected.
So I committed to the routine.
Two days resting in Ink Sword Grove, holding Seolha while pulverizing Namgung Yeonhwa's dantian.
Five days in the Taihang Mountains, honing my lightness skill and hunting for Qing Mountain Sect.
Felt like a weekend warrior couple. Or some office drone posted upcountry.
That rhythm continued.
Chang'an stayed peaceful. Still no clashes between Shadowless Gate and the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
Asked Maewol, but even she lacked the full picture on the situation.
Maybe both sides had realized they'd been played. Or perhaps they were feigning ignorance while honing their knives in secret.
A month slipped by since I started trekking to the Taihang.
I'd uncovered plenty in that time.
Loggers felling trees. Slash-and-burn villages. Freshly abandoned huts bearing signs of recent life. Long-dead skeletons.
All sorts.
A rusted sword and sword scars etched into rock had my heart racing briefly, but they weren't recent.
At least centuries old.
Just to check, I tried replicating the sword style from the marks, but it felt off.
Probably too weathered. If more traces remained, I could've nailed it better.
Still, it bolstered my belief that Qing Mountain Sect existed.
Another month passed. Namgung Yeonhwa's dantian was nearly spent.
Ten days left? Fifteen at most?
Two more trips to the Taihang, and it'd be done.
"Hero. Heading out again today? It's pouring..."
"Make excuses like that, and you'll never go. Gotta do it. Same as training your martial arts, right?"
"That's true..."
Seolha, being a martial artist herself, got it right away.
Yeah. Consistency is key in everything.
Can't bail at the first lack of visible results.
Cleaving through the torrent of rain, I unleashed my lightness skill to the max today too.
Two months of refining Obliterating Origin Instant Step had made my movements arrow-swift.
Trips to the Taihang shaved time each round.
But I could go faster still. My growth hadn't plateaued.
A mountain in downpour felt worlds apart.
Thick water mist. An ethereal scene.
Places I'd already combed once felt brand new as I crossed them. Rain reshaped the landscape.
The biggest change? Swollen valley streams.
Drought had left them trickling thin lately.
Not anymore. Now they roared, bloated and furious.
Water abundance is key. That's the good stuff.
And it wasn't just valleys.
A spot I'd pegged as a mere depression now channeled a proper stream.
Beyond the rain patter, a different sound carried from afar.
Definitely water, but not the usual flow. A raucous, crashing plunge.
A waterfall?
The thought sparked a memory.
Something from Namgung Yeonhwa's tale.
Ascend the Taihang, purify oneself at Qingliu Waterfall, then train with sincere heart nearby—and Qing Mountain Sect would appear to teach you.
I'd puzzled over that before.
No real waterfalls in the Taihang.
A few rivulets, sure, but nothing worthy of "waterfall." So I'd dismissed it as legend.
But hearing it now set my heart pounding oddly.
What if this waterfall only emerged during cloudbursts like this? Invisible otherwise?
I followed the roar.
Slippery rocks and sodden branches underfoot as I homed in on the source.
And there it was. A cascade tumbling toward the valley.
Unbelievable. I'd been here before.
The valley stream's path, with its quirky shape. Never dreamed it could become a waterfall.
But now, the deluge converged, unleashing a fierce torrent.
Ah, so that's how it works.
Made me think others might exist too. This one wasn't even that grand.
Two months mapping the range gave me a rough sense of its contours.
Using that, I extrapolated water flow.
For a true waterfall drop, rain must funnel entirely into one channel down the slope.
Recalled such terrains. That big rock area over there?
Mulled it over, then moved. Yeah, I'd know when I got there. Sound would give it away.
Near my guess, a massive crash echoed from afar.
Far grander than the last.
Closer I got, louder it boomed.
My anticipation swelled in tandem. Good vibes.
The destination. The spectacle unfolding before me.
A waterfall. Undeniably magnificent.
On a rainy day like this, few could penetrate this deep into the rugged range.
Explains why it stayed hidden from the world.
I gazed at it eagerly.
Then sensed a peculiar energy and whipped my eyes that way.
Could it be...? No way?
And that "no way" was spot on.
What I spotted was a person. Unmistakably a martial artist.