The Moonlight Sword
Dragons appear in the world. Usually, the higher a Murim practitioner’s realm, the sharper their discernment becomes. This is because masters view the world from a broader perspective. Just as Abbot Muhak could sense Seomun Cheong’s Heavenly Killer Star simply by meeting her gaze, whereas Seomun Su-rin only realized it after taking her pulse. In contrast, Dang Nan-a checks Seomun Cheong’s pulse every time she sees her, yet all she ever says is, “Mm, mm. Healthy today as well?”
Thus, the gaze of Abbot Muhak, the First Under Heaven, contained an amount of information that ordinary people could not even imagine. And that very Abbot Muhak had seen Seomun Cheong’s demonic art—the cursed lightning of the Purple Lightning Magic Art, one of the Ten Great Demonic Arts. His eyes widened as he spoke.
“Oho. Such pure and orderly Daoist true qi. A fleeting path connecting heaven to earth. It could truly be called immortal arts. But what martial art is this? Did the Goddess Sect possess such a technique?”
Of course, obtaining more information than others did not necessarily lead to the correct answer. Wudang’s sect leader, Chae Geon-jin, responded.
“Does it not feel similar to the Purple Sunset Divine Art?”
At that, the owner of the Purple Sunset Divine Art, Mount Hua’s sect leader Yu Ha-jin, snorted and objected.
“Hmph. What nonsense. Why not just call it the Purple Lightning Magic Art outright?”
Chae Geon-jin shot back.
“You were going on about the Moonlit Child Divine Sword and the Future Number One, so I thought she must be some hidden daughter of yours who had been taught the Purple Sunset Divine Art.”
“Hidden daughter? If you have eyes, use them. Is that the level of martial prowess an ordinary twenty-year-old child should display? You ought to sharpen your discernment.”
“What did you say?”
“Hmph.”
Mount Hua and Wudang, the two great sword sects under heaven, had long been rivals, so their sect leaders bickering was an old tradition. Still, it was rather irritating to watch Yu Ha-jin boast as if proudly showing off a hidden daughter. Especially since it was not praise for the Goddess Sect’s disciple, but rather for his own eye for talent. Chae Geon-jin watched Seomun Cheong’s spar with a displeased expression.
In the midst of this, Abbot Muhak let out a curious nasal sound. Something about that sword aura… It felt familiar. There was something unsettling about it. That presence was almost… sinister.
At that moment, Chae Geon-jin, who had been watching the spar in hopes of finding fault, clicked his tongue.
“The sword techniques that child from the Daoist sect displays are viciously murderous. The qi itself is clear and pure, befitting the Daoist path, yet the one wielding it moves like an Asura or Yaksha. How could she possibly reach true mastery like that?”
Yaksha were divine beings who had taken refuge in Buddhism, but when called Asura Yaksha, it referred to the man-eating evil spirits of their previous state. Yu Ha-jin retorted.
“Then what else would swinging a sword produce if not killing intent? An active sword? Even after seeing such pure Daoist qi, you call her an Asura Yaksha? Why not just say the 108 Asura Swords outright? And the technique she is swinging there is the Black Killing Demonic Palm—actually, since the child has such pretty hands, why not claim she is using the Small Hand Demonic Art? Why not go all the way and slander her as a man-eating demon who has gathered all Ten Great Demonic Arts?”
The accuracy was so uncanny that if Seomun Cheong had heard it, she would have suggested he quit being a Daoist priest and open a shaman shrine instead. One could at least say he possessed the discernment he so proudly claimed. Chae Geon-jin looked embarrassed. It was Yu Ha-jin he disliked, not the Goddess Sect’s disciple.
“Tsk. Who said it was a demonic art? I merely meant the killing intent is thick. Is a sword steeped in killing intent something a Daoist should wield?”
“If the sword is being used for the purpose it was made, is that not better than some fake claiming to save lives with a blade in hand while not even being a physician?”
Mount Hua’s sword was beautiful, yet it was also a vicious killing sword. On the other hand, Wudang’s sword claimed to be an active sword that only returned attacks without directly harming others.
“Now, now. How can you act like children in front of the seniors? Both of you, show some restraint. Besides, Yu Ha-jin is right. If you hold a sword, you must thrust it.”
The Kongdong sect leader pretended to mediate while casting a vote for the killing sword. After all, Kongdong’s martial arts took the extreme of giving flesh to take the heart. Beside them, a Jongnam elder nodded.
“These fellows who train in the art of killing have gathered together. Ah, Abbot Muhak. The path of saving lives is truly difficult.”
Chae Geon-jin sought help from Abbot Muhak. Shaolin’s martial arts were said to save lives—though whether crippling evildoers by breaking all their bones and severing their meridians before throwing them into the Repentance Cave counted as saving lives was debatable.
“Ahem. Still, bringing up the Ten Great Demonic Arts was a bit much, was it not, Chae Geon-jin?”
Abbot Muhak had already taken a liking to the “Old Man Slayer” Seomun Cheong, so he merely gave a light rebuke not to mention the Ten Great Demonic Arts even in jest. Then he paused. Amitabha. What had he been thinking earlier? He had felt that Seomun Cheong’s martial arts seemed familiar somehow.
“Senior! How could you—hm? Besides, the one who mentioned the Ten Great Demonic Arts was that fellow, was it not? Why scold me?”
“Haha, you rascal. This is the principle of yin and yang taiji. You still have a long way to go. One must make an effort to see only the good in people. Why do you only pick at flaws?”
Yu Ha-jin teased.
“Grrk.”
Chae Geon-jin clenched his fist in frustration. To be bested by the logic of taiji from an uncultured Mount Hua fellow—what greater humiliation could there be in this world?
Seomun Cheong’s palm strike aimed for Gongson Yoye’s solar plexus. Gongson Yoye, realizing it late, leaned forward instead. The sharp attack meant for her solar plexus ended up striking her right breast with a resounding slap. It was a grand decision to offer her chest instead of her vital point. Gongson Yoye let out a choked gasp from the pain.
Ah, that really hurt. Seomun Cheong faltered and slowed her offensive. In a life-and-death match, the outcome would have been decided long ago. The Small Hand Demonic Art was originally a vicious demonic technique that tore through qi and blood vessels with hidden force the moment it made contact. The cold poison of the Small Hand Demonic Art left permanent damage to qi channels and dantian. However, she could not bring herself to do that to Gongson Yoye, so she had only been striking with the form alone after already hitting her limbs several times. If this had been a real fight, Gongson Yoye’s internal energy would have been disrupted by now, leaving her staggering. Yet she could not exactly ask the referee to judge that the girl had been hit by the Small Hand Demonic Art multiple times.
Then… was this serious?
“Huu, huu.”
Gongson Yoye looked as though she had just stepped out of a bath. The spar had been intense, and drawing upon her Innate Qi seemed to consume a great deal of stamina. Yet her expression remained bright. Seomun Cheong could not understand it. Why? Why did she look so delighted while burning away her own lifespan?
“You look tired.”
“Huu, no. I can still continue. Hup!”
Bang! With a powerful stomp, her figure blurred and vanished from sight. However, after more than forty exchanges, Seomun Cheong was already accustomed to it. She took two steps to the side and twisted her body. Through the Awakening Divine Art, she could sense the exposed skin of her face and hands even without looking. Gongson Yoye’s elongated sword qi grazed past Seomun Cheong’s neck like a beam of light. When Seomun Cheong raised her sword to meet it, the sword qi disappeared as if it had never been there. Then, from a distance, it grew again and came rushing toward her in a massive fan-shaped arc that split the air.
The sword qi of the Xuanuan Sword, which could freely adjust its length, was difficult to handle. It was a clear example of how advantageous it was for a martial artist to control distance at will. Yet Gongson Yoye suddenly charged forward and closed the gap. It was a foolish attempt that voluntarily gave up her advantage in range. In truth, the many blows Gongson Yoye had taken came from these reckless attempts at close combat. The difference in their physical strength was simply too great, so every clash resulted in Seomun Cheong gaining the upper hand.
Like this.
Clang! The dull blades collided and sparks flew. Though Gongson Yoye’s strike carried the momentum of her full-speed charge, Seomun Cheong simply blocked it calmly while standing still. By the laws of inertia, Gongson Yoye’s sword and body came to a halt, and only the clinging droplets of sweat scattered like a light rain.
Well? What are you doing? Quickly, faster. Even without words, Gongson Yoye’s intent came through her sword. Do not hesitate. Play more. Let us play together, running, rolling, swinging, striking, and being struck with joy. Despite being drenched in sweat and panting heavily, Gongson Yoye conveyed this with a bright smile, teeth showing.
I… do not really know. What is it that makes you so happy? I think I hit you pretty hard. Does it not hurt?
Yet Gongson Yoye remained relentless. Her movements were almost like courtship—an invitation saying, “I am here. Will you still not swing your sword?” Seomun Cheong thought she finally understood. A lonely girl who had trained alone in the training hall her entire life. Yet Gongson Yoye’s past was not a painful memory. Her expression was that of someone who affirmed the hardships an ordinary person could not endure, because those times had led to the present.
That is why we are crossing swords like this. I am giving my all. Just as I always have. Even while burning her own life away, Gongson Yoye’s expression—simply joyful in this moment—was dazzling. What did it matter if she borrowed from tomorrow to enjoy today? To Gongson Yoye, martial arts were the only thing she possessed in life, and therefore something joyful. But what about me?
To Seomun Cheong, martial arts came with painful memories. Dropped into an unfamiliar world in a strange body, surrounded by contempt, persecution, and mockery, it was the only way to survive. Because she had to live. To Seomun Cheong, martial arts were a means of taking. The back alleys of the Central Plains were a merciless gutter where neither you nor I could afford pity. It was a wilderness where everyone was hungry, so there was no room to give or yield—only to take.
She still vividly remembered that time. The sensation of strangling someone until their breath stopped. The despair of that moment. The intuition that she had crossed a line from which there was no return, and that this feeling would remain like a brand for the rest of her life.
Yet it had not been so. Thinking about it now, what was the big deal about killing one piece of trash? Removing one scumbag who had beaten a child to death over a few coins was something to be proud of. It had been a shameful memory of clutching a single piece of loot and running away while bawling her eyes out.
Ah. Right. The Moonlight Sword, Number One. It was the first thing Seomun Cheong had taken after killing someone. More precisely, the thing she had killed for. The back alleys were full of trash anyway—a den of people who would die eventually—but she had killed that man specifically because she wanted a sword. She had swordsmanship but no sword, so what could she do? A single broken, rusted blade. A piece of scrap metal not even worth taking if offered. Seomun Cheong had killed a person to obtain that one piece of trash.
My Moonlight Sword, Number One. Well, it was not Number One back then, since it was the first. My Moonlight Sword. My treasure. She had used it until it crumbled and flaked off at a touch. When only the handle remained, she had buried it gently at the foot of a mountain in Geonpyeong and even made a grave for it. Even that was not enough, so she had promised at its grave that every sword from then on would be a Moonlight Sword.
Suddenly, her master’s words came to mind. A single sword held in the heart. Ah. Yes. She had forgotten the glorious progenitor of the Moonlight Sword for too long. A smile formed on Seomun Cheong’s lips. That single sword she had obtained was so precious that she hugged it while sleeping, carefully avoiding any damage to the edge, and never once used it to cut or stab. Back then, it truly felt as though a single sword could accomplish anything.
Suddenly, the memory in her hands revived. The center of gravity was all wrong, the handle was damp and sticky from constant grip, and the broken cross-section was fortunately quite sharp. Back then, she had no demonic arts. Only the Maiden of Yue Sword Art. The only sword technique she possessed. My sword. My swordsmanship. In this primitive, medieval land of the Central Plains, it had still allowed her to think of tomorrow. It had helped her hope that things would eventually improve.
Seomun Cheong naturally unfolded the Maiden of Yue Sword Art. First stance. Wolf Cub Biting Tree. A wandering child picking up a stick. Seomun Cheong’s sword traced an odd trajectory. To be precise, it was not so much odd as clumsy. A child had simply picked up a long stick and swung it with delight—without any technique, utility, or purpose, merely swinging for the joy of it. It was the discovery of humanity’s primal amusement. Just one long, well-extended stick. To the child’s eyes, it would have been no less enviable than the greatest sword under heaven. Just as her Moonlight Sword, Number One, had been to her.
Gongson Yoye hurriedly twisted her body away from the suddenly extending sword strike. Because the sword technique had no technique at all, it was unfamiliar and difficult to counter. It was a sword that swung and thrust, extending meaninglessly left and right before suddenly rising coldly toward the chin in threat. Gongson Yoye looked at Seomun Cheong in surprise. Her gaze was filled with affection, as if asking whether she still had hidden sword techniques left, and just how extraordinary the Young Lady Seomun truly was.
Yet Gongson Yoye was surprised once more. She could not meet Seomun Cheong’s eyes. With her eyes closed and a gently curved smile, Seomun Cheong scattered her sword strikes as if dancing lightly. Gongson Yoye held her breath as much as possible, carefully suppressing even her rough breathing. She could not disturb a swordsman who had entered a state of selflessness.