Chapter 180 Effort (2)
Could this even be called Thunder Shadow Sword?
Kiiing—!
A ferocious metallic screech, like a grinder ripping through reality, erupted from the Pa Cheon Sword's blade.
Even a simple spin would produce that signature metallic hum, but now sparks were arcing in wild, individual orbits around it.
The afterimages left trails that looked like live dragons writhing and twisting in real time.
Controlling each spark individually was clearly inspired by the Mo Yong family's swordsmanship.
'Meteor Sword. It scatters energy like shooting stars, then manipulates them for strikes.'
Mo Yong Hak had demonstrated it exactly once.
Pa Cheon had adapted it directly.
Not copied. Adapted. No—evolved. Revolutionized.
Meteor Sword's maximum was twelve meteors at peak execution.
But the "meteors" pouring from this Thunder Shadow Sword were countless, beyond numbering.
And it didn't end there.
Lightning sparks don't persist—they flicker into existence and vanish in an instant, over and over.
So Pa Cheon was adjusting them in real time: spinning them to life, then seamlessly erasing them from their orbits as they died.
[Saw that, did you? Hahaha!]
All while bragging like that, brimming with smug pride.
'...What the hell is this?'
[A new technique I whipped up. Not quite swordsmanship, but it qualifies as a feat of skill.]
'Be honest. Are you a regressor?'
[What nonsense is that?]
'I already did the possession bit. Reincarnator, then?'
[Have you lost your mind? Talking like some deranged monk.]
It was that shocking.
[Not that hard, really. Sparks from Red Dragon Qi fly off at high speed anyway. I just infuse them with a bit of energy to make them spin naturally—]
My head was spinning too much to listen further.
Humans can't do two different things with their hands at once. Even drawing a triangle with one and a square with the other is a struggle.
Sure, I've seen videos of freaks drawing different shapes with both hands and feet.
But compared to Pa Cheon right now? Fireflies before the sun.
What Pa Cheon was doing was exploiting a "sense that doesn't exist" to its absolute limit.
To compare, it's like awakening the sensation to control individual strands of hair, then making every single one draw hyper-precise shapes independently.
"H-How... this level of control?"
No wonder Paeng Yu-gun was floored. It hit home hard.
"Even if sword arts are more refined than Dao techniques, this is off the charts."
Spot on.
This wasn't a martial arts issue. The wielder was just a mad genius.
'Come to think of it, it's always been like this.'
Back at the cult, when Sado Mu Yeol—the original Sado family head—was rampaging, Pa Cheon had once unleashed its newly acquired Domination intent.
Against that Peak realm guy—Mu Young Do or whatever, name's fuzzy now—it used Domination to precisely strike only his acupoints. Insane.
Back then, with my book-knowledge of martial arts, I just thought, 'Crazy bastard.' But now, actually training seriously? Impossible.
Acupoints—on a moving Peak expert—no physical tool, just energy to seal them?
Makes zero sense.
And this feat was a step beyond even that.
[Just a simple shift in thinking. Everyone could do it if they tried, right?]
I pictured that curly-haired painter dude: 'See? Easy peasy.'
'Power of half-baked Three Flowers Gather at the Summit.'
Pa Cheon lacked one element of the triad—body. So its Three Flowers Gather at the Summit was incomplete. More like two-thirds.
'What if it gets a full body?'
A chill ran up my spine.
Pa Cheon's body was modeled after Sado Gwang's—for a future swap.
Would that greedy bastard settle for an exact copy?
No. Even if Murim Returner didn't spell it out, he'd have used every forbidden art and secret method for a perfect vessel.
Look at me now.
I'd trained martial arts lately, but before? Zero practice.
I wasn't gorging or boozing, yet these rock-hard muscles? Suspicious.
Not the Heavenly Demon Divine Art—it devours innate essence.
'Survived the Heavenly Demon Divine Art eating my innate essence because the body's specs are just that broken.'
Mu Jin from Murim Returner endured the same way.
If Pa Cheon overcomes the sealed meridians and regains its original body... the cult might truly welcome a new Heavenly Demon.
That's how insane this moment was.
"Excessive humility is pride, they say—but you're beyond that. What exactly did you do with that Thunder Shadow Sword?"
I recited Pa Cheon's explanation verbatim. Paeng Yu-gun's jaw stayed slack.
He composed himself and spoke.
"I'd love to shove this in that slimy Namgung girl's grandpa's face. His nose wouldn't just flatten—it'd send him crumpling."
Namgung Jin's grandfather: Namgung Han, Namgung clan's retired head.
The "Sword Saint" title—top swordsman among righteous experts—usually went to Namgung clan across generations. But now? Meng Wi-hak's.
Simply put, dethroned. Namgung Han claimed no interest in the title, but we all know "I don't care about XX" means obsession.
So he built power to reclaim it for his descendants, strengthening the clan.
'Doubt Namgung Jin snags it, though.'
Too many contenders.
Un Yeop Ja alone could claim it if war didn't kill him.
'Inner energy holding up?'
[Yep. Absorb these lightning sparks, and I recover about 80% of my original energy. Lets me spin even longer than before.]
'...Name it quick.'
Infinite Quantum Superconductor Orbital Bombardment Dynamics...
Screw it. Just slap on something cool and badass.
Meanwhile, Paeng Yu-gun clucked his tongue.
"If this is 'low achievement,' what the hell's a proper one for you, Sword Dragon?"
I wondered too. Asked Pa Cheon—it replied matter-of-factly.
[Not proper swordsmanship. Just showed a byproduct to flex some progress. Impressed, monster? Witness my greatness.]
...Told it how to make fire, and it builds a nuke, acting like it's nothing.
What do I tell Paeng Yu-gun?
Nuke's too weak? Embarrassed 'cause no target?
Fine if they think I'm nuts—Super Peak experts are all cracked somewhere.
Just avoid seeming dangerous.
"Still crude. It's 'Red Thunder Qi,' not 'Red Thunder Gang' yet."
"Hm. Hold still a sec."
Next instant.
He blinked—now gripping Pa Cheon Sword barehanded.
"Elder?!"
Kwaduduk—!
Insane repulsion surged through.
'Pa Cheon!'
[...Don't worry. Monster, this Dao King.]
What—? The spin halted.
Paeng Yu-gun's hand was fine. Wait—palm scratched deep like claw marks, dozens of lines, faint blood seeping.
[Blocked with protective Gang Qi. Brutish.]
Toughness bordering on savage.
Paeng Yu-gun nodded casually.
"Be grateful your sword qi reached this far. Piercing my protective Gang Qi to leave marks? You'd crush newbie Super Peak Gang Qi with a smirk."
[Oh, Dao King. Thanks. Didn't know the output yet.]
Setting aside his freakish durability—if true, another trump card for me.
Pa Cheon Sword's edge already slices Gang Qi; now with raw destructive power too.
Of course, "newbie Super Peak" vs. real deal? Worlds apart. Can't rush in.
"You're already at Formless Sword Gang, Sword Dragon. Train this daily, and it'll evolve to Gang Qi form soon. No rush."
"Thanks for the encouragement."
But his eyes weren't warm—distant, sunken.
Like a fierce tiger eyeing prey.
Why? Suspecting Blood Cult again?
Red Dragon Qi was purified with Shaolin inner energy—yin, but not foul.
Nothing suspicious.
Danger sense spiked.
Tak Horak sensed it too, flashing his Qinghong Pills.
Paeng Yu-gun finally spoke.
"You have a fiancée? No siblings?"
"Yes."
"If you have kids, betroth one to my great-grandson."
"...Pardon?"
Paeng clan marriage talk is tradition, huh.
Fiancée exists, no siblings—now aiming lower?
Tension deflated—then he struck.
"Sword Dragon."
"Yes."
"A blood storm brews in the martial world."
This old man's pacing is national MC level.
"The martial world always balances. Demon Cult rises? Heavenly Blood Slaughter drives them to the fringes. Righteous era dawns? Blood Cult schemes in shadows."
"I'm listening."
"Aye. Heroes like you emerge—meaning battlefields where those heroes die."
Paeng Yu-gun's aura surged. His simsang rose, merging with him.
"Sword Dragon. I know you had So So excavate ruins, siphon the goods. At my level, you hear things you don't want to."
Not whimsy. My growth's too fast for him to control.
"Forget the rest. Your goal—what is it?"
His presence was lethal.
No need to flinch, though.
I'd passed his tests. Just old-man caution.
I channeled Heavenly Demon Divine Art into my gaze.
"One goal, Elder: Keep this martial world from drowning in war."
He bored into me, sniffing truth like a beast over man.
But 100% sincere. No lie to detect.
Finally.
"Good. That's verification enough. Sorry, Sword Dragon. Talented kids like you get my blood pumping. You're the second."
"No issue. I understand."
"So, Sword Dragon."
His next words stunned.
"Become my disciple. Formally."
...These old geezers like me way too much.
Pretending to be the Heavenly Demon