Chapter 122: Tenacity
“No matter how I think about it, this feels like utter madness.”
[You need to handle this with ease. In real combat, it'll be far worse than this.]
“That's true in theory, but...”
I stared ahead with a look of utter bewilderment.
I'd set everything up just as Pa Cheon instructed for training.
At a distance of one zhang—about five meters—I'd placed a human-shaped wooden dummy.
Around it, spears and swords were densely embedded in a circular formation, all aimed toward the dummy. They were blunted training weapons, of course.
“You want me to use Blink precisely through that?”
The problem was the gap between the dummy and the embedded weapons—barely enough space for two people to squeeze through.
“Blink conserves momentum, right? Even blunted, getting stabbed at high speed would still hurt like hell. I'd die! It's my body!”
[That's the point, brat.]
Pa Cheon's voice carried the tone of a sly, villainous grin, if he could even make expressions.
[Blink transfers that momentum directly. Precisely.]
Inner energy granted humans superhuman strength, defying physical laws—including impossible acceleration.
Thus, masters who wielded it freely could unleash devastating power from point-blank range, not just from afar.
[But we can't do that. Without projecting energy, we need minimal distance to build power.]
And so, this was Pa Cheon's idea.
[Channel all your energy into your legs for an explosive leap, then Blink to close the gap and transfer every ounce of momentum into your sword strike. Simple, isn't it?]
“Even just using Blink isn't easy.”
I'd used Blink before, but never with precise distance control.
[What if you Blink and swing with full force, but fall short?]
“Well, I'd improvise then... No, wait. Yeah, no more winging it.”
Improvising on the fly was off the table now.
[Of course I'm not saying dive in blind. I don't want my body damaged either.]
“You really baby that body of yours.”
[First, hone your Blink instincts to perfection—use it accurately in any situation. That alone opens up countless strategies.]
Pa Cheon then positioned himself precisely at five zhang, hovering horizontally at waist height.
[Blink there and grab my hilt the instant you arrive—draw me without looking. Trust your instincts and swing.]
“Sounds tricky.”
[When your Blinks run out, train channeling energy into your legs until it recharges.]
Pa Cheon said it with that infuriating smugness.
[You vowed to take martial arts seriously. This should be child's play, right?]
“Should've smacked you upside the head back in that Red Dragon Chronicles mental space.”
[You? Land a hit on me?]
“...You're such a smug bastard.”
Even without inner energy, the trained martial artist Sado Hwan would crush the pacifist modern me in a brawl. Obvious.
[Time's wasting, brat. Focus that energy on fighting. Got your salve?]
“Obviously.”
I'd brought the special trauma salve from Dok Ma. More like a pain-relief patch than a deep healer.
Heavenly Demon Divine Art sped recovery, but muscle or tendon damage still took time.
[Begin. Lower into a strike-ready stance.]
I nodded at Pa Cheon's command.
Empty-handed, I assumed the drawn-sword stance: left hand at my waist, right slightly forward, as if unleashing a slash.
[Blink like you're grabbing me from that pose. Draw the instant you touch.]
And I repeated inwardly.
I am Sado Hwan.
I am Sado Hwan.
Blink!
My vision shifted in an instant.
I swung with full confidence.
“Hup!”
Whoosh!
“Did I get it?”
[Did you?]
My face burned at Pa Cheon's words.
I'd basically flailed at empty air like a kid play-fighting, complete with a kiai.
Pa Cheon tsked.
[Way overshot. Lucky no one's watching, or you'd look pathetic.]
He floated two steps away.
[Like most jade artifacts, the Blink Jade's method imprinted in your mind. How's it work?]
“Form the intent to move, and it activates along your line of sight.”
[To your final gaze, then. Sigh—back to eye-discipline basics? That's toddler stuff.]
“Real poetic, aren't you.”
[Didn't realize you were this hopeless.]
I ground my teeth.
“I'll master it if it kills me. For your sake too.”
For over two shichen, I drilled Blink and leg-channeling.
Once every twenty tries, success.
The rest? Failures. Sometimes I'd embed myself in the floor—waist-down buried, thanks to Blink's wall-phasing.
Good thing it didn't scramble my atoms.
Just dumped a pile of dirt where I'd stood.
Might be a way to use that...]
[Rest now.]
“Protagonists have grit!”
[Resting well is a virtue too, brat.]
“Fair point.”
Screw it—I sprawled out starfish-style.
I needed the break anyway.
Blink drained mental stamina. Teleporting through space wasn't free.
Worse, leg-leap training during cooldowns? Constant faceplants into walls or dangling headfirst from ceilings.
If this body weren't tough, bruises alone would've killed me.
[Rub salve on knees and ankles—those joints took a beating.]
I applied Dok Ma's special salve. Grayish cream, cool and instantly refreshing my condition.
A chuckle escaped.
[What's so funny?]
“Just a silly thought.”
Dok Ma's salve would sell like hotcakes in the modern world. Might revolutionize sports.
Couldn't help but laugh.
“Break's over. Up we go.”
[A bit longer wouldn't hurt.]
“Worried about your body?”
[Not really. Hm?]
Pa Cheon shifted, sensing something.
“Sa Wol?”
[No. Check outside.]
I opened the family training hall door.
And then—
Piiiik!
Mugyeok-i plummeted from the sky.
But his state was off.
No vigorous flight. His body wobbled. His cries were weak.
Soon—
Thud!
He crash-landed.
Piik—
“What happened, Mugyeok!”
Piik—
Mugyeok panted like he'd taken a mortal wound.
He had.
His left wing bore a dozen piercing wounds. Shredded to rags.
Impossible.
Mugyeok was Mu Geuk Cheon Hwa—a divine beast that stumped even Hyeok Mun. Direct descendant of the Vermilion Bird, body of flame.
Hurt? Physically?
[Not entirely impossible.]
Pa Cheon noted.
[Gang Qi could do it.]
“Gang Qi!”
Gang Qi imposed one's power on the world.
Theoretically, yes—it could wound Mugyeok physically.
But who could shred a flying Mugyeok's wing like this?
Especially when everyone in the cult knew I had him.
“Hold on, Mugyeok.”
I summoned Cho Ryang fast.
He startled at the sight, then rushed over, hand on Mugyeok's head.
“Someone shot him with arrows.”
“Arrows.”
Bows were taboo in the jianghu—cowardly sniping from afar, not honorable combat.
But archer masters existed.
And in the cult...
Demonic Archer Song Yang Geon.
He'd shone in the war against the jianghu, intercepting key figures from range. Super Peak, no slouch up close either.
Before the war, he'd been...
Rankless outsider.
A young man with a hero's band on his brow arrived at the Heavenly Demon Palace. Thick, caterpillar-like eyebrows framed a handsome face.
As always, Chief Steward Gu Jin-gyeong stood before the visitor.
“Who might you be?”
“First time meeting! I'm Song Yang Geon!”
“Never heard the name... but that bow looks familiar. Your father Song Nam-gi?”
“That's right!”
“Demonic Archer's heir, eh. So, why come here?”
“To see the Heavenly Demon Lord and propose marriage!”
Gu Jin-gyeong sighed at the bizarre request, more odd than the archaic speech.
“You can't just see the Lord on a whim.”
“I even prepared a gift, but let a bird slip away!”
“That's not it. Besides, the Lord has a fiancée.”
“By my count, just a candidate!”
“And?”
Song Yang Geon grinned.
“The cult honors the strong! If I win, I become the spouse, right?”
“Nonsense—”
Gu Jin-gyeong blinked mid-sentence.
Song Yang Geon had vanished.
He was already plummeting down the towering Ascension Realm stairs.
'Missed his movement?']
Gu Jin-gyeong groaned.
“Am I too old... The river flows too swiftly.”
Gazing after him, he muttered,
“Don't lose, Young Master Sado.”
Pretending to Be the Heavenly Demon