Chapter 83 Mount Tai Crushing the Summit
Truth be told, the Divine Cult was a tense place, but it had its comforts.
For one thing, the cultists all thought I was strong, so no matter what I said, they just accepted it. With the theatrics already locked in, pretending to be a powerhouse came naturally.
Most of the time, a scoff and a "Don't talk nonsense" was enough to make them back off sheepishly.
But not this time.
I'd shifted the dynamic with a petty wordplay trick, and he'd countered with his own petty wordplay, flipping it right back. Our apparent realms were evenly matched, so words wouldn't cut it.
'The Kwak family is famous for sparring, not duels.'
Refusing a spar for no good reason would be dismissing Kwak family tradition.
'To make matters worse, the guy's not just any expert—he's the head of the cult's biggest stickler clan.'
Kwak Ri Yeon's intentions were simple: test my true strength.
Word had spread wildly after the Heavenly Demon acknowledged me as Super Peak, but few had actually seen me fight. And most of those scraps were internal Sado family affairs.
Sure, I'd just shown off something like a Flying Sword, but that was only one facet.
'As a father figure, and as Kwak family head, he's gotta be curious.'
Whether the Sado family—and Sado Hwan specifically—were worth trusting.
It was test after test. Pass them, though, and I'd have the full backing of the Iron family and now the Kwak family too.
"Master...!"
Kwak Jeong, quickest on the uptake as always, watched with sparkling eyes like he couldn't wait.
Fighting was out of the question.
A weapon clash might end cleanly with my head lopped off, but the Nine Yin Kwak family was famed for fist techniques. Especially their signature, the Nine Yin Divine Fist—one hit from that, and I'd rather take a shotgun blast bare-chested.
My Heavenly Demon Divine Art-toughened vitality might hold for a bit, but eventually...
I'd die. Painfully.
'Gotta avoid this at all costs.'
Survival was my goal. A temporary hit to my rep was fine—I'd already gotten everything I came for.
That was when it happened.
[Demon.]
Pa Cheon spoke up. Still stuck in the ground back there, but close enough for me to control it.
[If it's a spar, not a duel, there's a way.]
'What do you mean?'
[Didn't Cheol Mu Geuk upgrade this blade? Said it could slice Gang Qi clean.]
'What does that have to do with— Ah! You don't mean...?'
It could sever Gang Qi!
An insane ability. In theory, at least.
The issue was pulling it off in real combat. Super Peak masters weren't idiots—would they just stand there while I tried to "slice their Gang Qi now, so hold still!"?
No way.
So Pa Cheon's power was theoretical. Rely on it at a critical moment, and I might screw up. Knowing something in your head and doing it for real were worlds apart—especially with life on the line.
[Exactly. No telling what'll happen next—this is our chance to test it early.]
Always stuck with me 24/7, huh? The blade's thought process was starting to mirror mine.
'Gotta reflect on that.'
Lately, with all the life-or-death scraps, I'd gotten too defensively minded without realizing.
Anyway.
[It's a friendly spar, not a deathmatch.]
I needed justification. Something that old stickler couldn't argue with.
'...That's it!'
A great idea hit me.
I spoke up.
"From ancient times, it is said that king, teacher, and father are one body. Thus, a standard spar between you and me would defy propriety. Therefore..."
"Therefore?"
"I propose a One Exchange Spar."
"One Exchange Spar, eh. Clever indeed."
A One Exchange Spar was exactly that: one single clash. True experts could gauge power from a single move.
In the cult, where fights usually ended in sprays of blood and broken bones, it wasn't common—but it existed.
"We'll follow the cult's 'tradition' for the format."
Kwak Ri Yeon blinked in confusion at my words.
By cult tradition, in a One Exchange Spar, the lower-ranked attacked while the higher-ranked defended.
Kwak Ri Yeon was rank 11. I was 23.
Meaning I attacked, he defended.
'Obviously not what he wanted.'
But I'd invoked tradition—he had no ground to argue.
"...Well, it could be meaningful. Rumor has it your single strike wrecked the Sado family headship contest? Can't let that happen to our precious Kwak headship. To the training ground."
I turned and strode out of the headship arena first.
Standing over where Pa Cheon was planted, I reached down. The blade slid up like it was being drawn by an invisible hand, gripping into my palm.
Kwak Ri Yeon watched intently, then commented.
"Truly exquisite qi circulation, Sado family head. No flow detectable at all."
Back when Sa Wol hit Super Peak, she'd marveled that she sensed qi flow in everything—except me.
So Kwak Ri Yeon felt the same.
Super Peak was Super Peak, alright.
"Just a minor trick."
"Modest, I see."
The training ground was right next door. Fitting, since the Kwak family reportedly settled disputes with spars when talks failed.
'Stickler clan means lots of rank-stripped brawls.'
Good—no long walk. Wouldn't want to look pathetic fumbling without lightness skill.
Kwak Ri Yeon and I took positions at opposite ends of the training ground. An elderly, hunched man stepped between us.
"I am Kwak Pung-do of the Nine Yin Kwak family. I shall officiate this spar."
[Kwak Pung-do... Cult rank 20.]
'Monsters everywhere.'
Viewing him as Super Peak, that stoop didn't look like age—it seemed deliberate.
"Sado family observer, step forward."
Sa Wol moved up at Kwak Pung-do's call.
"This spar is by mutual agreement. Correct?"
"Yes."
"Good. By cult tradition, cult rank 23, Sado Hwan, shall deliver one strike to cult rank 11, Kwak Ri Yeon, who must defend."
We nodded.
"Also by tradition, each must declare their intended form beforehand."
Kwak Pung-do eyed me. Instinct screamed: this old man didn't like me one bit.
Focus on the now.
'One strike to show it all.'
I'd fling Pa Cheon with Flying Sword anyway, but dragging it out favored him. Had to be a simple, decisive blow.
Conclusion reached.
"Mount Tai Crushing the Summit."
The Kwak warriors' auras turned hostile.
Understandably.
In most wuxia worlds, Mount Tai Crushing the Summit was fancy talk for a basic overhead chop.
"How...!"
"Daring to mock the family head?"
"Arrogant bastard!"
Jeers rained down. Even Sa Wol shot me a "what are you thinking?" look.
"Enough."
Kwak Ri Yeon's quiet word silenced them all, auras retracting.
"Confident, are we? Mount Tai Crushing the Summit, no less."
"The Sado blade is illusion based on speed. Better a proper strike than flashy tricks, no?"
"Hahaha!"
Kwak Ri Yeon burst out laughing.
"Sado family head, I like you more already. A real man. Fine."
He shed his outer robe, revealing thin undergarments. Not Cheol So Pyeong bulk, but fist-honed muscles like carved stone.
"I'll defend like a man too—with Upper Guard Stance."
Upper Guard Stance: arms raised in high block.
Was it bold spirit, or petty one-upmanship? Hard to tell.
Didn't matter. Just needed to test Pa Cheon's edge.
"Good. Attack within five breaths of declaration."
Kwak Pung-do stepped back, Sa Wol too.
"Then, let the One Exchange Spar begin."
Pa Cheon swung itself—I just had to act the part.
And good acting meant convincing staging.
I drew Pa Cheon. Endless practice made the draw look masterfully fluid. Then, I released my right hand's grip.
Pa Cheon hovered vertically in midair.
Soon.
I raised my right hand to chest height, fingers curled except index and middle extended—Sword Mudra.
"Hand-Controlled Sword. Truly going all out."
Flying Swords had types. Main ones: Hand-Controlled and Eye-Controlled—gestures vs. gaze.
Hand-Controlled allowed finer control.
This staging showed masterly poise—and respect for Kwak Ri Yeon—in one go.
"I'm all in too."
Kwak Ri Yeon clapped his fists together—thunk, thunk. Purple energy rippled from them: Nine Yin True Qi manifesting.
The qi soon armored his arms like translucent gauntlets.
Fist Gang Qi.
Pa Cheon wasn't idle either.
Kiiiiing—!
Gray sword qi surged, spinning into vortex—my old reliable whirl.
Infused with Domination intent, it shrouded the blade completely.
Surprise flashed on Kwak Ri Yeon's face, but he stayed silent. Pa Cheon rocketed toward him.
[Here it goes!]
Matching Pa Cheon's signal, I swept my sword mudra down. The blade mirrored, slashing top to bottom.
Then.
Schk—!
A dry, unmistakable cleaving sound.
"...!?"
What followed.
Was Kwak Ri Yeon—left arm severed halfway.
"......"
[......]
Fucked.
Stay still, and I'd be truly fucked.
So I.
"Guhk—!"
Bit my tongue, spitting blood.
Pretending to be the Heavenly Demon