The Immortal of Zhangjiajie (2)
Whoosh.
When Master finished speaking, all that remained in that place was a single thread of wind.
I rolled my eyes quickly, trying to follow her, and saw that she had already spun once in midair, leaving the ruffians only ten paces or so away from her.
Good heavens.
I hadn’t heard so much as the rush of her lightness skill, let alone the faintest rustle of her robes.
"Huh?"
That instant, just before Master completed her turn in the air and extended her leg to launch a kick at the man, the bandit holding Mr. Jeong hostage seemed to sense something strange and looked up into the air.
"Guh!?"
But it was already too late.
With a crack that sounded less like a human body and more like split firewood, the man took Master’s kick full in the body, slammed into the ground, bounced up once like a rubber ball, and then collapsed flat and limp again.
"W-what the hell is that woman!?"
"The boss got taken down in one hit!"
With the leader down in an instant, the rest of the gang panicked and brandished their blades at Master.
But Master’s expression didn’t change at all. Her face remained icy and terrifying as she murmured to the bandits, "You wear green, yet you bear no token of rank. You are nothing but wanderers, cast out even by the mountain bandits themselves."
At Master’s words, the ruffians flinched.
It wasn’t only because of the overwhelming aura of a true master; she had also identified their status with a single sidelong glance, and that had completely broken their spirit.
"You’re worse than the lowest vermin, expelled for failing to follow even the thirty-six lines of the Azure-Green Grand Code that thieves themselves pretend are law. And you dare bare your blades at someone?"
Stung by Master’s words, the man in front shouted, "Fuck this! Surround her!"
As if her words had only enraged them further, the others began yelling too, each one trying to save face with bluster.
"There’s only one woman here! Overwhelm her with numbers!"
"How strong could some master in a backwater like this possibly be? Rush her and kill her!"
And then they came at her in order, one after another.
Several guandao and dozens of throwing weapons.
From above, from behind, at her arms, at her legs.
They flew in at impossible angles, each aimed at a vital point, each strike enough to inflict mortal wounds if even one landed.
That’s dangerous.
I couldn’t tell whether those bandits were more skilled than they looked, or whether the threat to their lives had forced them to exceed their usual level. But anyone who looked at those attacks, even without knowing martial arts, could tell they were all aimed at deadly openings.
And yet Master did not dodge.
Instead, she merely let her pitch-black eyes track the assault with cold, unmoving calm.
Ssrrrk.
Then Master’s hand moved.
Whoosh!
What she drew out was none other than the belt at her waist.
The belt writhed like a snake, fluttering wildly in the wind, twisting and unfurling in every direction before finally forming a perfect circle.
Only then could I see it clearly: a dark, smoky haze seemed to ripple along the whole length of Master’s belt.
Mukjeok’s Defense Array.
The technique Master had just demonstrated.
It enveloped the entire belt.
Like a ring forged of steel, the belt locked into place and dropped as though driven into the ground, drawing a circular line around Master’s body.
And then the bandits’ killing moves came flying toward the woman standing inside that circle.
Clang!
Chajajaang!
Thud!
"Kraaah!?"
"Damn it, what the hell!"
The guandao wielded by the mountain bandits, the keen knives, the flying blades, the thrown stones—all of them lost their force and dropped the moment they crossed into the circle, as if they had struck a slab of iron.
"I-it’s sorcery! That witch is using sorcery!"
"You idiot! That’s not sorcery, that’s—"
A formation!
One of the essential formations you absolutely had to learn if you wanted to get through the early and middle parts of a game without enough growth or items.
Mukjeok’s Defense Array.
A formation said to have originated from the old story of Mozi loosening his belt to block the Chu army’s attacks nine times.
To actually see a formation I’d only ever known from text descriptions with my own eyes—I couldn’t stop myself from marveling.
No, that was practically the realm of magic, wasn’t it?
She just unfastened a belt, pumped it full of inner energy, and blocked every blade and projectile coming at her?
Master’s movements did not end with defense.
Having escaped the ring formed by the belt in a single breath, she approached the bandits at a speed so fast I could barely follow it with my eyes.
Whooom.
One blink of an eye.
One gust of wind.
And one step.
"Get lost."
Crack!
"Khaaaak!"
That awful splitting sound rang out again.
This time it came in a steady succession, pounding like drums.
"Guh!"
"Kieegh!"
"Ughh!"
She moved with footwork that was smooth and rounded, as if every motion had been measured and trimmed to the minimum.
With a single restrained burst of motion, she struck out with her fist and her kick, subduing the bandits one by one.
Crack.
Crunch.
Snap.
Boom!
She spun. She flew straight ahead. She lunged, then shifted direction at the last instant to stab from the side.
Again and again she repeated it—ten times, no, in the space of just ten blinks.
When the choking dust finally settled, the bandits who had threatened Mr. Jeong were already rolling in the dirt before even ten seconds had passed.
Mr. Jeong and I both stood there with our mouths hanging open, staring blankly at the scene.
It’s truly beyond mystifying.
As long as I had my Mind’s Eye, I could roughly track Master’s movements.
And thanks to her instruction, I was confident I could at least make sense of the flow of inner energy and blood vessels to some extent.
In that sense, there was no better word for Master’s subjugation than miraculous.
She aimed precisely for the bandits’ joints and vital points.
Without the slightest margin of error, Master struck each man’s fatal opening, shutting down his inner energy at once and cutting off his momentum before it could even begin.
Unless Master possessed the Mind’s Eye like I did, that meant she had calculated all of this in that fleeting instant.
And as far as I knew, Mukjeok did not have the Mind’s Eye.
Is she really human?
Realizing just how much restraint Master had always shown when punishing me, I felt my waist bend on its own.
Once it was all over, Master picked up the belt from the ground, gave it a light shake, then fastened it back around her waist and started walking again.
"It seems you’re not badly hurt."
"Y-yes, yes, of course…! It’s all thanks to this immortal lady!"
Mr. Jeong trembled in fear, but his voice and eyes were both wet with tears. He seemed deeply moved that Master had saved his life.
Master rummaged in her robe, took out a small pellet, and placed it in the man’s palm.
"Dissolve this in water and drink it before dinner. And as soon as you return home, soak a clean cloth in strong liquor, wipe the wounded area, and bind it with bandages. Even a small wound can leave a scar, or fester and rot away. The injury will heal cleanly in three days."
Mr. Jeong held out his hands as if receiving some sacred treasure, then dropped into a full bow and cried out as though he were grieving and rejoicing all at once. "Oh, heavens!! Thanks to the immortal’s vast kindness, this lowly one has survived! How am I ever to repay you? I’ll make sure my parents and children hear of your virtue, and for three generations we’ll burn incense and bow—"
Zap.
"…well, not that! I’ll make sure everyone in the village knows of the immortal’s noble deeds! Ohhh!! What on earth is this humble farmer that I keep troubling you and receiving your grace over and over again…!"
"I understand, so enough."
One sharp look from Master, and Mr. Jeong immediately changed his tune. After crying and bowing several more times, he finally got to his feet and went home.
Watching him, Master let out a sigh that made her look even more exhausted than when she had faced the mountain bandits.
I decided to ignore the soft mutter that slipped from her lips: "If you leave him alone, he’ll go on forever."
Judging by her reaction, it seemed likely that Mr. Jeong had also been the one to stir up trouble by talking about erecting some memorial for Master.
"Hoo…."
After a moment, Master exhaled and flexed her wrist before turning toward me with a frown.
"Disciple."
The instant she called me, my shoulders jolted on reflex.
"Tell me what you have learned from watching your master move."
Well, first of all, that it would be disastrous to mouth off at Master?
She probably didn’t want to hear that.
I quickly ran through the fight—if you could even call that one-sided beating a fight—in my head.
[I saw that Master precisely targeted the enemy’s vital points.]
Master nodded wordlessly and gestured for me to continue.
Was there more to write?
After a brief hesitation, I scribbled another line on the ground.
[Master’s movements had no wasted motion, and she seemed to subdue the enemies with the minimum possible movement.]
"That is so."
Master nodded and went on, "Observe thoroughly and calculate thoroughly. Then strike at the enemy’s core and crush their momentum completely. The martial arts of the Mo lineage began as defensive arts, so their purpose is to break the enemy’s offensive entirely."
So that was… a defensive art?
Was this one of those cases where the best defense was attack, or something like that?
"A weak enemy has their weapon broken to make them abandon the thought of attacking. An equal enemy is dragged into contest and worn down in a war of attrition until they no longer have the strength to continue fighting. And a powerful enemy is defended against with absolute care, until an opening presents itself. That is the essence of Mo Sect martial learning. Remember it, disciple."
In other words, overwhelm the weak, and for everyone else, defend and wait for the opening.
Having understood the point, I nodded at Master. Then I pointed at the bandits sprawled on the ground and groaning, and wrote:
[What should we do with them?]
"Leave them be. In any case, they’ll be unable to use martial arts for some time in that condition. This master also held back, so they won’t die. And the villagers won’t take their lives either, so they’ll sort themselves out."
Having said that, Master let out another heavy sigh and waved me off.
"Go back first, disciple. Your master will stay a little longer."
[Do you still have business in the village?]
"At the very least, someone should tell the village head that those vermin have been laid low. You can’t do it, so I, as your master, must. Who else would you have me ask?"
Well, I couldn’t speak and the village head couldn’t read, so Master was right.
With that, Master closed her eyes as if she couldn’t be bothered to say another word.
After stealing a few more glances at her there, I gathered the gift bundles piled all over the ground and headed home.
On the way back, I crunched through the fallen leaves in the forest and thought over Master’s words.
Observe thoroughly and calculate thoroughly.
The circle is complete and without flaw, and it can also transform into anything, so all of Mo Sect’s martial arts begin from the circle.
I set my bundle down for a moment, picked up a branch, and drew the circle I’d sketched countless times before.
Master’s movements from just now.
And the things Master had said.
The dark inner energy rippling through her body.
As I pictured them all, I slowly and carefully drew the circle.
So… like this?
Swish.
Where the branch stopped, there was a perfect circle.
"Cough!"
Mukjeok coughed up a rough mouthful of blood.
She had held back the vomit of blood until her disciple’s figure had completely disappeared.
But once that single cough broke free, it refused to stop, and with each convulsion more blood surged up after it.
"Cough, cough!"
Even she knew her body had been badly damaged.
And yet to think she would suffer such severe internal injuries merely from unleashing her fist-and-foot arts while carrying inner energy.
"Hoo."
She wiped the blood trickling from her mouth with her sleeve, then glanced down at it.
Black sleeves are useful at times like this.
The bloodstains would be hidden, and her disciple would not see them.
No—how could blood on black clothes ever be hidden from a child who had already opened the Mind’s Eye?
At that thought, a bitter smile spread across Mukjeok’s mouth.
Have I changed enough that I’m worrying about things like this now?
"Well, well. To think the famed Moon Crow of the world has changed enough to smile like that."
Hearing the voice that reached her while she was lost in thought, Mukjeok frowned slightly and turned her head.
And the sight before her only deepened that frown.
The owner of the voice was an old man dressed in white, with white hair.
From his skin to his hair, his robes, his beard, and even the color of his eyes, there was nothing that wasn’t white except for the black sleeve cord and the dark reddish stain of dried blood on his lips.
He was an old man who radiated an extraordinary presence, but his most unusual and irritating trait was that he was approaching Mukjeok while riding a donkey backward.
"It’s been a long time, Red Sleeve."
Baekhyeon, the leader of Wudang, greeted Mukjeok with a sly smile and a low chuckle.