Thunder for the Restless Souls

Natural attribute martial arts are quite rare. Martial arts are fundamentally about learning to wield weapons, not manipulating nature itself. If humans could casually command the forces of nature with their bodies, the Central Plains would be utter chaos. That said, rare doesn't mean nonexistent. Just look at the kings among us—masters of thunder arts, wind arts, and fire arts. That's why natural attribute martial arts are coveted by every martial artist. Master them properly, and you can reach profound realms of power. Of course, finding one comes before mastering it.

"There must be at least one thunder arts practitioner in all of Guangdong."

In that sense, Yo Gwang-hyo was pretty quick on the uptake. Guangdong is one of the most populous regions in the Central Plains. Scour the whole province, and you're bound to find someone versed in thunder arts. Hell, there's one right in front of him—me.

Grandfather's a thunder arts master; it'd be weird if his grandson didn't know them.

Truth be told, the first martial art I learned after being born into this world wasn't Righteous Heart Technique, but thunder arts. No one back then imagined I'd walk the path of a scholar-official, and my father was a master who'd trained under Grandfather. As the crown prince of Giwangga, inheriting thunder arts was only natural.

"...Do-yeon. Is this really the right way?"

"Yes, my lord. The souls that have slumbered silently for a century are wailing because yin energy has overflowed. Suppressing the yin energy accumulated by hundreds of thousands of souls over a hundred years can't be done with ordinary methods. We must overwhelm it with sheer yang energy to bring them back to their senses."

Which meant I had to become Crazy Thunder Man, dropping lightning on the memorial stele to soothe them. Honestly, it didn't sit right with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me. I could grasp the yin-yang talk, but hurling thunderbolts at a memorial meant to appease spirits? That was anything but normal. It was like chucking a fireball at your own father's tombstone.

But Yo Gwang-hyo was a monk who'd wandered the Central Plains for years and, for reasons unknown, also mastered Taoist sorcery—a double major in the arcane. He had to be the expert here over me.

If an expert speaks, you listen.

Yeah, who else would I trust? I sure as hell didn't know how to handle spirits or fight ghosts. So no guilty conscience. I'd already delayed his suggestion for days, at least talking him out of setting fires or firing cannons. Cannons or lightning—same difference, maybe—but lightning felt cleaner. There are charred jujube trees from strikes; none from cannonballs.

"Then let's begin."

I took a shallow breath and drew up inner energy from my dantian for the first time in ages.

Cheon-gang Noe-ryong.

It was a bit bittersweet. Grandfather had once shattered a mountain with this move, and here I was, his grandson, blasting a memorial stele. No wonder the locals called me Crazy Thunder Man and cursed me—it was a sight that deserved it.

CRACK-BOOM!!

Anyway, the bolt from the clear sky struck the stele dead-on. I'd dialed back the power, so it didn't shatter the damn thing.

Please let this work.

I prayed fervently at the sight of the scorched-black stele. Please, let it have an effect. If not, I'd be the mad bastard who zapped the memorial of the unjustly slain. No reincarnation as a human after death—I'd drop straight to livestock or vermin. The thought alone made my head spin.

Looks like I wouldn't have to pay for this in the afterlife after all.

- Hic... ughhh...

- It hurts... so cold... hungry...

- The northern barbarians, the northern barbarians are coming... the northern scum...!

I'm losing it.

No need to wait decades—the vengeful spirits showed up the very night I dropped the lightning. Their group fan-meet in the dead of night drew a wry chuckle from me. I'd heard they wailed every few days, but experiencing it firsthand brought a tangle of emotions words couldn't capture.

No wonder their faces look like that.

I pitied the locals in Gyeirim who'd endured this nonstop. The branch manager's deathly pallor, the innkeeper's haggard look—it all made sense now. The spirits' wails weren't mere cries. They twisted your emotions, sharing their pain just a little—

- Shiiik! Shiiiik!

- Buoo!

- Ppiaeak!

The three spirit beasts sleeping ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in my room howled at the empty air. At the same moment, the subtle heaviness in my body and the oppressive weight on my mind began to ease into calm.

Oh.

Amazing. Even against spirits, spirit beasts proved their mystical worth.

- Ughhh... hic...

- Spirit beasts... spirit beasts...

- The one with spirit beasts... protected by spirit beasts...

The spirits flinched at the beasts' cries, whispering among themselves, then—

- My lord, my lord...!

- Hear us out, help us...!

- My lord... my lord...

- Ughhh...!

—turned their wails back on me. I'm going insane. Up until now, it was just sounds; now hazy forms were visible too. The spirit beasts' presence must've jolted them hard.

"Kids. Come up here."

I called Samshik, Buong, and Ppiae onto the bed, away from the spirits. Keeping beasts and ghosts in close quarters might spark trouble. Better to hold them close while we talked.

- Shiiiik...

- Buoo, buooo.

- Ppiaeak!

Thankfully, they weren't hostile—just reacting to intruders—and obeyed my call readily.

- Ooooh...!

- The one loved by spirit beasts... who commands them...

- Please, have mercy on us...

The sight only hyped the spirits more, but—

"Enough."

They wouldn't communicate if I let it go, so I waved them down. Help comes after hearing the story. Spouting demands gets you nowhere.

- Buoo!

Buong, snug in my arms, snorted and honked shortly, like telling them to chill. I stroked his head gently. Come to think of it, Maek devours nightmares, tied to the mental realm—maybe even more effective against spirits?

"You were once the people of the Central Plains, children of Song. Keep decorum, and I'll do my duty."

With the spirits quiet, I stated my position. I understood their unjust deaths and vengeful cries, but I wouldn't tolerate them turning demonic. Stay as vengeful spirits, though, and I'd help. Besides, I was already Crazy Thunder Man who'd zapped their memorial. With a way to soothe them and ease my conscience, it was the right call.

- Merciful one... merciful one...

- We will... we will...

They sobbed out thanks nonstop. For century-old vengeful spirits, they were surprisingly meek.

Damn Mongol bastards.

Killing hundreds of thousands of such gentle folk? They were beasts not worth the spit.

To soothe the unjustly slain people, Gaga plunged lightning into the memorial stele. What did thunder have to do with calming souls? But a monk versed in Buddhist teachings and Taoist arts swore it worked, and suppressing yin with yang made sense enough. I watched quietly.

Still, striking an intact stele wasn't trivial. I'd planned to comfort him tomorrow for his efforts, but—

"Cheon-gang Noe-ryong!"

Eyes barely open, Gaga bolted outside and slammed another bolt into the stele.

BOOM-CRASH!!

An even stronger one than yesterday. I stared blankly before snapping to. That was too much—not suppression, but destruction level.

"G-Gaga. No need to push so hard. Do-yeon said to observe for a few days anyway."

I hurried to him as he raised his hand for another. Even the monk who'd suggested it said not daily. Check the spirits' response first, proceed gradually every few days. No need for back-to-back strikes.

"It's fine. I've already grasped the situation."

"Huh?"

That made no sense, so I tilted my head. He'd crashed at the inn right after yesterday's strike and rushed here upon waking. No time to assess?

"I'll explain after this. The yin is stronger than expected—needs multiple hits."

With that, the second bolt flew. His expression was too grave to stop him.

It's charred black...

The already singed stele turned fully black. Was there some saying yang at its peak turns black? That might justify it...

"M-My lord? Something happen last night?"

But even Yo Gwang-hyo, roused by the commotion, looked baffled at Gaga. More confusing, but I didn't intervene. Gaga wouldn't act without reason. Especially after hesitating yesterday.

There must be a reason... right?

Sudden unease hit. Possessed? Nah, with those spirit beasts around? Impossible.

"Buongie."

- Buoo?

"Come here, I'll hold you."

- Buooo~

I called Buong at his feet; he toddled over beaming. Our Buong. He'd fend off any ghost, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no doubt.

My nape prickled. Ak I-yeon, Yo Gwang-hyo, and now arriving Jo Wi-cheo eyed me oddly. But I couldn't stop. Essential for soothing the spirits.

Damn it.

I shut my eyes grimly amid the growing stares from the locals. No longer Crazy Thunder Man—I was shaping up to be Psycho Grave Destroyer.