Defying Heaven (3)
[Master. What do you think the odds are that you and your disciple can survive if we fight them?]
Before Bang Chunghyun and his men launched their full assault on the stone tomb, I wrote the question on my master’s palm and asked it.
Her calculation did not take long.
“Not even a tenth of one percent.”
It was only natural.
Even if my master was a Transformation Realm expert, she had grown terribly weakened. And if I was generous and judged my own skill as merely second-rate, then there was no need to think any further.
Against Bang Chunghyun—stronger than anyone in the Demonic Cult except the Demon Sovereign—and the martial artists directly under him, there was no real chance that our battered master and disciple would survive.
Then I would have to approach it another way.
Why had those bastards come charging all the way out here?
The Three Strategies.
The military treatise known as the Three Strategies of Huang Shigong, also called the Taigong Military Arts, the work Zhang Liang had received from Huang Shigong.
The Demonic Cult, which pursued strength above all else, had come to this remote mountain valley not for a martial manual or a treasure map, but for that very book.
The Demonic Cult wanted war.
The White Lotus Cult, abandoned and massacred during the founding of the Ming Dynasty, held grudges of one degree or another against the Ming, including the Path of Asura King who was also called the Demon Sovereign, and all five of the cult’s Five Path Kings beneath him.
That was why they needed the Three Strategies.
If it were only a book about deploying troops and arranging formations, the White Lotus Cult would already have a dozen copies of that sort of thing.
Sure, people in this world pretended to be cultured after reading a few lines of the Confucian classics or a handful of poems—though martial artists generally weren’t exactly bookish to begin with—but the Central Plains didn’t belong only to martial artists. Ordinary scholars and literati lived there too.
The problem was that, in this world, the Three Strategies was not an ordinary military text.
The original, passed from Huang Shigong to Zhang Liang and then preserved for later generations.
It was practically a grimoire—a treatise that had been written to defeat the greatest figure under heaven in his day, the man who had driven Xiang Yu, the Overlord of Chu, into a four-sided chorus of despair and forced him to take his own life.
Just as Zhuge Liang’s Eight Trigrams Formation, which was in truth an ordinary formation, became the definitive standard of mystical battle formations in a wuxia setting, so too had this military text, after soaking up the blessings of wuxia logic, become the most vicious and fearsome formation manual ever used to bring down an overlord.
If that thing falls into the hands of those war-mad lunatics?
I didn’t care whether the Ming imperial house collapsed.
But would those insane cult bastards really be satisfied with simply toppling the Ming and stopping there?
The White Lotus Cult’s ultimate goals were, first, the fall of the Great Ming; second, the destruction of the orthodox martial world; and third, the reincarnation of all living beings—meaning, in other words, death.
In short, their final aim was “rebirth in paradise through the death of all beings.”
This world was full of suffering, jealousy, war, and violence, and so it was surely the realm of Asura; therefore, all beings should surrender their lives and be reborn into the human realm or the heavens through reincarnation.
And what crime had the millions swept away in that process committed?
If I can’t protect it.
I pulled a heavy metal sphere from inside my robes.
Cheongi Seol.
An explosive hidden weapon I’d brought just in case it was needed to break through a formation, before my master had even given me the test.
[Master. Where is the Three Strategies?]
When I wrote those words on her palm, she looked at me, thought for a moment, and then spoke.
“Behind Yuho’s coffin lies the Huang Stone. Before Yuho entered eternal rest, he sealed the Three Strategies beneath it.”
I turned my head and followed her gaze.
A giant stone coffin coated in years of dust.
And behind it, a massive yellow stone that stood out at once.
And beneath that, too, a finely carved stone chest.
[Connect this Cheongi Seol to the Three Strategies.]
A flicker of alarm crossed my master’s face.
“Connect it? And what, exactly, do you intend to do—threaten them with it?”
I shook my head.
Then I wrote the next line with absolute certainty.
[The moment they let their guard down and open the chest, I’ll blow off their eyes and arms вместе with the Three Strategies.]
Smack!
A sharp crack rang through the stone tomb.
My head snapped sideways.
A hot sting spread across my cheek.
More than the throbbing pain, the situation itself felt unreal.
My master had hit me.
For the past seventeen years, the woman who would have sooner given me a flick to the forehead or made me run drills than raise a rod or slap my face had just struck my cheek.
“……!”
My master’s hand trembled in the air.
Her bloodshot eyes shook violently.
Looking back and forth between her own palm and my reddening cheek, she panted for breath.
Even she seemed startled by the fact that she had struck me herself, and after a moment she gathered herself, her voice turning cold.
“Burn it? Destroy it? A thousand years. A full thousand years.”
She pointed at the stone pedestal where the Three Strategies had been enshrined.
“It is a treasure our Mo Sect ancestors, and this useless master’s father and grandfather before them, staked their lives to protect. While the world turned upside down time and again and the throne changed hands dozens of times, our line spat up blood to preserve that one thing. And now you want to what? Burn it to ashes?”
Her anger was only natural.
It was her family, her life, the loneliness and pain she had borne for so many years.
To suggest that I burn it down with my own hands… if all I got was a single slap, I should probably count myself lucky.
But—
I’m sorry, Master. But today, I have to be an unfilial disciple.
Without even taking time to soothe my stinging cheek, I thrust my finger into the floor and wrote.
My nail cracked and blood welled up, but I didn’t stop.
[Then, Master, can you protect it?]
“What?”
[Your internal energy and dantian are cut off and fading, as fragile as a candle in the wind, while the Demonic Cultists have made full preparations and vastly outnumber us. Even if you were to stake your life, can you keep the Three Strategies from them and stop them from taking it?]
My master bit her lip.
“I will do my best.”
[What is achieved only through effort, after all that effort, is no different from what was never tried at all.]
“Heaven will remember it.”
[And then the Demonic Cultists will seize the Three Strategies, use its knowledge to cover the land in blood, and finally drag even heaven itself down. Is it your wish to cling to it stubbornly until the very thing you’re trying to preserve becomes the means by which the people are harmed?]
My master pressed her lips together.
She understood.
In her head, she understood.
But her heart, and the years she had spent guarding it, refused to accept it.
I threw in my last gamble.
And—
I hesitated for a moment, then continued.
[You matter more to me than the Three Strategies.]
My master’s shoulders twitched.
[I can’t stand by and watch you die a dog’s death while trying to preserve some old scholar’s book. If burning the Three Strategies means I can save you, then I’d be glad to become the world’s greatest sinner and fall into hellfire.]
“You little—”
Silence fell.
The stone tomb was so quiet it felt as though it might crush the breath from my chest. Only the candle flame wavered weakly over the dust-covered coffin.
My master said nothing for a long time.
Slowly, she turned her head and looked at the old chest resting on the stone dais.
An ancient chest that had survived a thousand years. The crystallization of a duty she had spent her whole life polishing, tightening, and guarding stood there in lonely stillness.
“You insolent brat.”
Her voice was wet.
“A fellow who can’t even speak, and yet your tongue is sharper than a sword…”
She lifted a trembling hand and touched my cheek.
Her rough palm gently brushed over the very place she had just struck.
“Does it hurt?”
I shook my head.
It did hurt, but I knew her chest hurt more, so I pretended it didn’t.
My master stepped up to the stone chest.
And without hesitation, she opened the lid.
Inside lay a bundle of old bamboo slips wrapped in silk.
The Three Strategies of Huang Shigong. The legacy of Zhang Liang that my master had wanted so desperately to protect.
She took it out and held it out to me.
“Do it.”
Her voice was calm now.
“Do it exactly as you planned. When those bastards come in craving this book, let their own greed burn them alive.”
I took the bamboo slips from her hands. They were heavier than they looked.
I pulled out the Cheongi Seol I had prepared in advance, its silver surface dimly reflecting the light—a metal sphere stuffed with explosives and thunderfire, nothing more than a timed bomb in all but name.
I threaded a thin wire through the gaps in the bamboo slips and fitted it to the detonation mechanism of the Cheongi Seol.
Click.
The cold sound of metal locking together rang out.
After confirming that the mechanism had engaged, I carefully rolled the bamboo slips up and handed them back to my master.
She took them and opened her mouth.
“Disciple.”
My master turned toward the tomb entrance.
“They’re coming.”
I didn’t need to open my Mind’s Eye to feel it.
A massive pressure was rolling in from outside the cave.
The formation surrounding Zhangjiajie had developed a huge crack.
Bang Chunghyun’s men would be storming in any moment.
The air grew heavy. Death pressed up to the throat.
I drew my sword. My master also raised hers at an angle.
“Let’s go.”
***
“But this is as far as you go. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere left to retreat.”
Thud, thud.
Each time Bang Chunghyun took a step, demonic qi billowed from him and filled the stone tomb, making it hard to breathe.
BOOM—!
Bang Chunghyun stomped on the floor.
With a single stomp, the whole tomb seemed to quake as if struck by an earthquake.
Dust poured down from the ceiling like a blizzard, and the stone slabs beneath our feet split apart like spiderwebs.
“Now!”
At my master’s shout, I let out a silent scream and lifted my sword.
Bang Chunghyun’s figure blurred, and then my vision was drenched in red.
KWA-AAANG!
The air exploded right in front of my nose.
There was nothing where Bang Chunghyun’s fist had struck, yet the fist wind he sent out tore through space like a cannonball.
My Mind’s Eye screamed warnings madly.
The flow of that red demonic qi was like a swarm of living snakes, ready to strip away not just flesh but the soul itself at the slightest contact.
Duck!
A voice rang in my head.
It was transmitted voice—a technique for sending words secretly without opening one’s mouth.
Before my master’s message had even fully settled in my brain, my body was already moving.
I immediately unleashed light-footed movement and shot diagonally away from that vicious strike.
But Bang Chunghyun twisted his wrist with a sneer.
Whoosh—
Thud!
!
I thought I had completely dodged it, but my left shoulder flared as if seared by fire.
His fist wind had anticipated my movement and bent its course.
Even though it had only grazed me, the shock hammered through my entire body, my bones throbbing and my blood channels twisting in pain.
“Disciple!”
My master’s black sword carved a pitch-black arc as it drove into Bang Chunghyun’s flank.
The seventh form of the Mo Sect Sword Art. A ruthless slash sharp enough to carve through a cliff face aimed straight for Bang Chunghyun’s waist.
“Pathetic.”
Without even looking, Bang Chunghyun extended his left hand.
The dark crimson force bursting from his palm caught my master’s sword strike in midair.
Kigigigik!
It was not the sound of steel colliding with steel, but a grotesque screech, like iron being drawn to a magnet and twisted apart.
“Mukjeok, your sword has grown dull since the old days. Has your heart grown heavy, or have you found something to protect?”
When Bang Chunghyun clenched his hand, my master’s sword trembled violently and was flung away.
As the recoil shoved her backward, Bang Chunghyun surged toward me again, just as he had been waiting for this opening.
He knew.
He knew I was the weak link in this joint assault.
Damn it!
I grit my teeth and squeezed every last drop of internal energy from my dantian.
Pretending to thrust my sword straight ahead, I used the snap of my wrist to make the tip vibrate subtly. A high-frequency tremor ran along the blade and split the air.
Wiiiiing!
A defensive sword technique my master had taught me. I didn’t even know its name.
The instant my blade collided with Bang Chunghyun’s protective qi, the vibration drilled into it and carved out a tiny crack.
“Oh?”
Bang Chunghyun’s eyes widened a fraction.
His red barrier tore, just for a moment—only the width of a needle’s eye.
My master was not the kind of person to miss that opening.
Shaaak!
My master’s sword wriggled into the gap like a viper.
Bang Chunghyun snapped his head back.
The sword aura grazing his cheek sliced a strip from his red robe and left a thin, threadlike wound across his face.
A drop of blood scattered through the air.
Bang Chunghyun wiped the blood from his cheek with his finger and clicked his tongue.
His gaze changed. No longer the eyes of a leisurely beast, but the murderous stare of a predator tearing into prey.
“Sharp. But…”
Gugugugu!
The demonic qi pouring from his whole body exploded in intensity.
The air in the tomb sank heavily, making it hard even to breathe. The pressure felt as if gravity had multiplied several times over.
“It’s over.”
Poof!
He vanished.
No, he was simply so fast that it looked as if he had vanished from sight.
Even my Mind’s Eye could barely keep up.
I instinctively drew my sword close to my chest and took a defensive stance.
But I was wrong.
He wasn’t in front of me.
He was behind me.
“Good instinct. Too late.”
A cold voice scraped the nape of my neck.
Thud.
My sword split empty air.
And the next instant,
a giant grip seized my throat.
……!
My breath stopped.
My feet left the ground.
Bang Chunghyun had lifted me by the neck with one hand.
“Disciple!”
My master screamed and lunged forward, but Bang Chunghyun shoved me out in front of him like a human shield.
My master’s sword stopped short of my face.
“Don’t move, Mukjeok. Take one more step, and this boy’s neck will be crushed to powder.”
Bang Chunghyun’s fingers tightened around my throat.
As my carotid artery was compressed, my vision flickered.
A strangled, hacking sound burst from my mouth.
My master lowered her sword and trembled all over.
“You dog.”
“Wrong. Dogs are loyal to their masters. I’d rather sink my teeth into mine.”
Bang Chunghyun replied without shame and held out his other hand.
“Choose, Mukjeok. The Three Strategies in your robes, or this disciple’s life.”
His eyes were serious.
If she didn’t answer within two seconds, he really would snap my neck.
“How did you know the Three Strategies was in my robes?”
“Curious?”
“No. Shut up.”
“Very well. Choose.”
I panted and looked at my master.
Through my blurred vision, my eyes met hers.
She was biting her lip so hard blood was drawn.
Slowly, very slowly, her hand slid into her robes.
“……Let him go.”
Her voice was wet.
“Let that boy go.”
“A wise choice. Throw the Three Strategies this way first.”
A victor’s smile curled at the corner of Bang Chunghyun’s mouth.
My master took the old bamboo slips from within her robes.
The Three Strategies. And within it, hidden covertly, the Cheongi Seol my master and I had modified.
She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then at last, as if deciding herself, threw the chest toward Bang Chunghyun.
Whoosh—
The chest flew in a parabola through the air.
Bang Chunghyun’s gaze flicked, just for an instant, toward the incoming bamboo slips.
Now!
Even with my throat crushed, I read my master’s eyes. The moment we had agreed upon.
My master’s finger twitched imperceptibly. It was the signal—the thin wire attached to her sleeve had been pulled.
With everything I had, I threw a single iron needle hidden inside my sleeve toward the bamboo slips.
Snap.
The bamboo slips hanging in midair burst with red light.
KAAANG—!!
The explosion roared through the tomb. A shrill crackle like thousands of metal fragments scattering in every direction.
The Cheongi Seol hidden inside the bamboo slips unleashed a vivid red glare, trying to sweep away everything around it together with the Three Strategies.
……!
Bang Chunghyun’s eyes flew wide open.
He reflexively released the hand gripping my throat and threw out his arm, surging his internal energy to wrap his entire body in protective qi. The red demonic force covered him like a shield.
Thudthudthudthudthud!
Hundreds of needles and shards battered his protective qi.
But as expected, not a single scratch touched Bang Chunghyun’s body.
That didn’t matter.
I had not detonated the Cheongi Seol in order to kill him with the Cheongi Seol.
Fire and the crimson demonic qi of his protective barrier.
When those two reds veiled his sight in a foglike blur—
That was the split second.
I landed on the floor with a cough and clutched my sword.
Kill him.
I had endured this far for this one blow alone.
At the same time, a black shadow burst out from beyond the flames.
My master.
“Die!”
My master’s blade drove straight toward Bang Chunghyun’s front.
At the same instant, my sword went for his blind side.
The two blades rushed toward Bang Chunghyun like twin fangs.