Spirit Fire's Trial (6)
With just two swings of my sword, I sliced through most of the enemies ahead.
"That's one down."
Next up: the right side.
There weren't any particularly threatening figures on the right. But there sure were a ton of them—nearly three times as many first-rate martial artists as anywhere else, plus three peak experts mixed in among them. It sounded like the most dangerous spot on paper... but it wasn't.
With so many people, the overall quality was the lowest. If you knew the trick, it was actually the easiest side to break through.
I charged toward the guys who'd frozen in shock after watching the Poison Guy die. Dragging my feet to take out every last one would just get me surrounded by the other peak experts. Right now, I only cut down the ones within reach and ignored the distant ones.
Like the hands of a clock, I circled rightward along their encirclement. Soon enough, my sword swings started picking up frequency. That meant I was reaching the right flank, where the numbers were thickening.
Part of me wanted to unleash a full-powered Horizontal Small Heaven Army like before... but not now.
The essence of Horizontal Small Heaven Army was its sword wind, as fierce as sword qi. To anyone below first-rate—who couldn't use sword qi—it was a natural disaster. But peak experts and above, who could wield sword qi, could counter it just fine.
...If my dantian were full, it might've worked, but not in this state.
The Poison Guy got careless thinking I'd lost my internal energy, but I shouldn't expect the same from the others.
So this time, unlike the front, I had to avoid killing the first-rate guys as much as possible and use them as obstacles instead. It was the best way to pick off the scattered peak experts before they could link up.
"Kill him!"
"He's a peak expert! Don't fight him alone!"
"I thought he couldn't use internal energy?!"
"But he is! Shut up and raise your sword!"
I threw myself into the killing intent pouring from all sides, the curses, and the cold glints of swords and blades. It was like diving naked into a raging sea—a reckless act. But it was the right call. Paths to survival only open amid danger.
A sword flew at me head-on, a spear thrusting from slightly behind. Instead of deflecting them, I slipped through the gap between.
I couldn't fully dodge; it grazed my face and shoulder. No big deal. As long as it wasn't a solid hit, it'd just be a scratch.
Now deep in the enemy ranks, weapons rained down from every direction. Sheer numbers were intimidating, but they didn't guarantee precision. Swinging your own weapon while avoiding your neighbor's created inevitable gaps.
Eight Directions Step wasn't blindingly fast or flashy enough to confuse foes. It was just perfectly balanced footwork, letting me move in any direction from any stance. And right now, that was plenty.
I bent my upper body parallel to the ground to evade a thick saber, then twisted my left ankle to barely dodge a descending axe. Letting my collapsing body go limp, I rolled fully to the ground.
The infamous "ground-hugging roll," which most martial artists shunned for pride's sake. Whether they hesitated from shock at my shamelessness or just found it hard to strike so low, their assault paused.
Seizing the gap, I used my rolling momentum to spring up like a shot. My center of gravity naturally pitched forward. Dead ahead, a panicked foe swung wildly in desperation.
Just before his sharp blade touched me, I twisted my torso, shifting my balance sideways. An application of the rapid acceleration trick I'd learned from Hong Yeonhwa—handy ever since.
My unstable stance would've toppled with a nudge, but Eight Directions Step's principles let me recover swiftly. One slip, and my head would've been off—a knife-edge dance. But dozens of encirclement breakthroughs had taught me: this was the safest way.
Again and again, I twisted through the narrow, shifting paths. Swimming upstream through the wave of weapons to hunt peak experts one by one wasn't hard. These guys on the right were weaker peaks than me anyway.
The old me couldn't have pushed through so easily or leisurely picked them off. It was possible because my razor-sharp mind resonated with Martial Spirit Divine Art.
As long as I gripped the sword in my mind's eye, every action optimized into the ideal trajectory. Not omnipotent, since it drew from my experience—but that made it maximally effective here.
The experience of over a hundred deaths, etched into my mind, unconsciously guided me.
"Hup!"
Slipping a narrow gap, I vertically slashed at the flustered foe.
Not as powerful as at the Yongbong Branch Meet, but still too much for an ordinary peak expert.
Kaang!
One clash shattered his sword and snapped his arm. I unleashed Mount Tai Crushing Strike again at the disarmed bastard.
Final desperation? He coated his good arm with qi to block... but if my sword qi-clad blade broke his sword, no way his arm held.
Split clean from raised elbow down, he died pathetically. This was the last peak expert on the right.
"Two down."
Just cannon fodder left. No need to dodge anymore—I swept through and broke free.
Crouching low, I tuned out the whistling blades overhead and focused inward... then spun powerfully once.
Underprepared, so weaker than full power. Still enough to sweep the surrounding first-rates.
They didn't come apart completely, but deep gashes to bellies and chests dropped them. Bursting through, I fired another Horizontal Small Heaven Army.
Legs kept moving, so upper-body twist only. No time to gather sword qi—half the first one's power, mediocre. But less strain, quicker prep, chainable.
I mowed down every blocker and escaped the encirclement.
Next: the rear.
Monster Monk. Another nickname I slapped on, but it fit perfectly. Towering a head taller than me, bulging muscles. Shaved head, wild jagged beard. Preaching Buddhist mercy with his arts, yet ripping allies apart without mercy if they got in the way. What else would you call a guy like that? Blood Monk? Whatever.
So when he spotted me fighting from afar and charged straight at me, it wasn't weird. Already hyped beyond control, dripping blood from his hands after killing a few, he locked eyes and burst into mad laughter.
"Kuhahaha! What a lunatic!"
"...?"
Who's calling who a lunatic?
I'd been tense, ready for Diamond Unmoving Divine Method, but he spouted nonsense.
Sensing my bewilderment, he grinned and pointed behind me.
"Ah."
Turning while keeping my senses extended—just in case—I finally got what he meant.
...A path of blood. Corpses from my path here lay strewn in my wake.
"You look stronger than the riffraff, but not overwhelmingly so. Most would think to run. But you?"
The Monster Monk grinned creepily, like he knew it all.
"Right. No reason not to kill if you can. Better to die and reincarnate clean than drag out a wretched life piling sins. I'm the Great Vehicle Bodhisattva saving all! And you show the same qualities!"
"...You're insane."
Like a psycho killer picking off "good" people to "send to heaven."
Shaking my head, he got pissed and raised his voice.
"Look! So many dead by your hand! See how the survivors fear you! And you deny your true nature?"
What was he on about...
I'd bet even Buddha, killed a hundred times, would choose the same. Or at least understand.
"Again, you have the qualities to save sentient beings. It's not too late. I'll vouch for you with the Alliance Leader—join the Buddhist path together..."
"Pass."
Interrupting, I flicked my sword tip. Obvious provocation, anyone could see.
"Time you entered the wheel of reincarnation too. No more stalling—come at me."
"Y-You bastard...!"
The Alliance Leader ordered all dimension gate crossers killed without exception. No interest in the monk's offer, nor reason to entertain it. But oblivious, he took the bait like a grave insult.
Face flushing red-purple, veins bulging on his forehead—a savage glare.
"Fine! If you crave Buddha's embrace that bad, I'll send you!"
Resembling a temple guardian like the Four Heavenly Kings or Diamond Guardian, the Monster Monk suddenly closed the gap without warning.