Chapter 138
Chapter 138
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Night of a Hundred Ghosts (4)
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Swish. Swish swish.
Watching the hand shadows darting through the air, Wang-u swallowed a groan.
'In the world.'
Having deeply studied the Kunlun Sect's martial arts, Wang-u could tell.
Those simple-looking hand movements were unfolding the essence of Kunlun martial arts.
And not even at full power. Chu Un-hwi was humming while crossing his legs, flipping pages with his left hand, and casually demonstrating with his right.
Yet the variations kept chaining endlessly.
Swish. Swish swish.
The hand gripping the sword manual left an afterimage, then split into multiples—分光.
When they divided into several and recombined, Wang-u's mouth gaped as wide as it could go.
It was the Void Dragon Swordsmanship.
The ultimate technique that only the Kunlun Sect leader could learn, performed so effortlessly.
Wang-u realized.
'I've misunderstood my lord too much.'
Trying to comprehend him within human limits had been a mistake.
To make such an error even after knowing their categories were worlds apart.
As he berated himself, Chu Un-hwi closed the book with a snap and grumbled.
"Fucking mess. They twisted it all complicated."
Wang-u, who had spent years grinding on that fucking mess of a martial art, shut his mouth.
"Why? Something on my face?"
"Nothing at all, my lord. Just amazed."
"Yeah, right. Turns out the Kunlun bastards knotted it up pretty good—gave me a headache mastering it. How far did you get in the Void Dragon Sword?"
The familiar hand shadow flashed in the air again.
Impossible to track with the naked eye.
"I have yet to..."
"Yeah? Then this."
Only after seeing a few more flickering afterimages did Wang-u nod.
"You've advanced straight to the Shadow Split realm."
Chu Un-hwi ruffled his shaggy hair, then snapped his fingers.
"Fifth Star, huh? Not bad."
Not bad.
For something he'd trained day and night for six years, the evaluation was brutally dry.
"Lemme see. Got a bit of time left."
Glancing at the hourglass, Wang-u saw sand still in the top.
'Even the world's secret arts take less than a meal's time for my lord.'
He'd worried about running short, but instead, time was left over. Chu Un-hwi whipped out a brush, scribbled furiously, blew on it dry, and said,
"Insights for the next stage. Reference it when you're stuck."
Plop.
The paper placed politely in his outstretched hands felt too light for a martial art legendary in the righteous sects for centuries. But its contents...
'It will surely unleash a storm of blood across the jianghu.'
Wang-u sensed it instinctively.
Couldn't leave a root of trouble. With his unusually sharp mind, he memorized it fast and burned it.
"I've committed it all to memory."
"Good work then."
Thud.
Slapping the table as he stood, Chu Un-hwi said,
"Let's go wring the neck off that sneaky bat bastard."
"As you command!"
Wang-u bowed low and shouted.
"This way! This way!"
Instructor Jo-hyeon, her body still unwell, staggered forward insisting on guiding the path.
Following her swiftly through the road, it took a full half-day before they found traces.
"We were ambushed here."
Moyong Seon-ya raced ahead, scanned the surroundings, and swallowed a groan.
"Impressive traces."
Moyong Seon-ya's finger pointed to spots in sequence.
"They struck in an instant, unleashing a palm strike."
Instructor Jo-hyeon nodded at the massive crater that could bury a child.
"Astonishingly fast attack."
"And the inner force in that palm wasn't ordinary."
Unable to stand idle, Yeo Mae-hong bustled around searching for clues.
What they found next was a crumpled gauntlet.
"Squad Leader Yang's."
"Hic... Really Squad Leader Yang's."
As they comforted Instructor Jo-hyeon, Wang-u examined the gauntlet with sharp eyes and spoke.
"Seems mixed with North Sea Cold Iron."
"Yes. Squad Leader Yang always bragged about it."
Yeo Mae-hong confirmed, and Wang-u, touching and flipping the gauntlet, sighed.
"Opponent's inner force overwhelmed this gauntlet."
"This gauntlet?"
This gauntlet. One hundred twenty years of cultivation.
A level reachable only at the pinnacle of Peak realm, surpassing senior instructors.
"That's the minimum estimate."
Otherwise, North Sea Cold Iron wouldn't shatter like this.
As he explained, Wang-u warned,
"Possibly even beyond the 'Wall of Lamentations.'"
"No way. That far?"
"Definite. Maybe a master who's begun—or fully—transcended human limits."
Peak, the realm humans strive to reach.
Transcending it meant one thing only.
"A transcendent Peak expert."
Gulp.
Everyone's throats bobbed.
The group pressed on.
But tracking the unknown,
dangerously skilled foe proved agonizingly slow.
Above all, traces were scarce.
"Their movement art is bizarre, as rumored."
Normal martial artists leave footprints.
Plant a foot, leap, and go.
But this flight-like lightness skill rode the wind, leaving few marks.
Finally, Moyong Seon-ya, scouting ahead, halted.
"Trail ends here."
"Tch. This far only?"
But it wasn't a total bust.
"Heavens. Instructor Moyong?"
A startled voice from the brush. Turning, a haggard instructor stumbled out in distress.
Someone known—Moyong Seon-ya stepped forward.
"Instructor Oh."
"Mercy. It's really Instructor Moyong."
Legs giving out, he collapsed. Moyong Seon-ya asked,
"Heard you were ambushed. The others?"
"Dunno. We held formation till I dropped first."
"Left alone?"
"Yeah. Not till just now."
Following his gloomy gaze to a dark cave mouth yawning open.
Hiss!
Tying cloth to a branch for a small torch, they advanced. Two more lay in the cave.
Wang-u knelt by one, checking breath with a finger to the neck, then shook his head.
"Too late."
"Hmmm."
Close acquaintances, it seemed—Moyong Seon-ya swallowed a sob.
"Sister. You okay?"
"Bastards. Won't let them get away."
Thud thud.
Moyong Seon-ya stormed out, pounding the cave wall till her knuckles bled in rage.
Meanwhile, Chu Un-hwi dragged the corpses out and laid them in the brush.
"Look closely."
He pointed to torn-off fingers on the flank and severed arm.
"Urk. Urk."
Gruesome sight—Moyong So-hye braced on the ground, dry-heaving.
Not used to seeing a familiar face as a corpse, like kids would be.
Pale-faced Baek Ri-seol forced down emotions and asked,
"To get used to corpses?"
Chu Un-hwi shook his head.
"Nah. What use getting used to mere corpses?"
Might happen eventually, but no need to force it.
"Jianghu means not knowing who ends up like this."
Deaths I deal.
Deaths others deal.
Endless in jianghu.
"That's why it's fucking scary."
The four fell silent.
"As your martial arts rise, your sword tip lightens."
Weight it with death.
"Finally, even if you grow numb to killing and dying, don't forget one thing."
What is it?
To their gazes, Chu Un-hwi clapped hands.
Clap clap.
Then pressed palms together and said,
"No matter whose death, never forget to mourn it."
That way, you stay human to the end.
"Yes."
The four nodded gravely to the instructor's words.
First corpses and deaths faced.
Watching them view the world heavily, Chu Un-hwi muttered inwardly.
'Was too much for me.'
Still too early a lesson.
Night deepened; they couldn't advance further.
Found three more unconscious wounded instructors—forcing the march was impossible.
"Rest here."
Wang-u's chosen spot: clearing by a valley.
Trickle trickle.
Gazing at the stream, Moyong Seon-ya paled.
"...Fortune teller said stay from water."
"Sister. Master Wang-u hears. Shh."
"Eek."
Eldest expert called it—no choice.
Moyong Seon-ya reluctantly complied.
The group swiftly bedded the wounded, set camp.
One shone here.
"Porridge to settle the stomach. Added warming herbs—should help."
Nangong Yun-ho.
Kindled campfire fast, safe spots for lying, full camp prep.
Jegal Tan gathered stones, drove them around wounded.
"Formation. Buys short time."
Moyong Seon-ya, knowing formations' depth, stuck out tongue.
"Formation? This quick?"
"Impressive. Even instructors struggle."
More amazing: prioritized wounded.
"Heard Jegal students cold calculators. Didn't expect tending injured first."
Hearing mutter, Jegal Tan turned casually.
"Experience teaches."
"...?"
"How precious protection in death's door."
Great Jegal heir in near-death?
Doubted, but his gloomy lip-twitch held sincerity—no retort came.
"Sister, scout around."
At Yeo Mae-hong's nudge, Moyong Seon-ya scanned, noted oddity.
"First real battle, no panic—each doing their part."
As Yeo Mae-hong said, Chu Un-hwi's students never idled.
Baek Ri-seol drove scabbards round fire, drew swords to heat in flames.
Beside, Moyong So-hye circled tirelessly, eyes intense.
'No clue what, but.'
Not freezing in tension alone deserved praise.
"Don't overdo."
"Fine."
Eyes drawn to Baek Ri-seol and Moyong So-hye's bond.
Baek Ri-seol constantly checking back anxiously—like mother duck minding duckling. 'Did Bronze Hall's Baek have such care?' Eyes doubted.
Heard the Eastern Snow Girl name—Moyong Seon-ya too.
Gawking in wonder, silent Instructor Jo-hyeon looked up.
"Instructor Chu's amazing... Huh?"
"What?"
"Where'd Instructor Chu go?"
Come to think.
Yeo Mae-hong tilted head.
"Maybe tending rear wounded?"
"I'll check."
As Jo-hyeon rose, Moyong Seon-ya scanned.
Just searching camp edges.
Wang-u, meditating apart, half-opened eyes.
"Said fetching water."
"Dangerous?"
"Should be fine."
"Still..."
"More danger here."
"Pardon?"
Shing.
Killing intent flared; Wang-u drew sword like lightning.
- Sassassassasa!
Then.
Wind sound somewhere—far camp, Moyong So-hye yelled,
"Coming!"
Pfbt!
Eyes straining harder, her nosebleed burst.
Wiping streaming blood with sleeve, Moyong So-hye yelled again.
"Right flank! Brother Nangong!"
Before shout echoed.
Clang!
Sharp metal ring—Nangong Yun-ho skidded back.
Shuwaaaaaak!
Whirling midair, Moyong Seon-ya screamed.
"Demons!"
Ching ching ching ching ching!
Peaceful camp turned battlefield in a breath.