Chapter 115
Chapter 115
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: I'll Give You Three Months (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Anger surged within me.
"Is this the level of the Nine Dragons these days?"
That smug bastard effortlessly dodging my Finger Wind, and myself struggling against his follow-up counterattacks.
That fury dragged my limbs into reckless assaults, only for me to get caught in the enemy's movements once more.
No matter how hard I tried to calm myself and stay composed, hearing the Peng family disciples whispering worriedly about Yang Ha-jeong from behind reignited the rage.
[Little brother, don't rush in so recklessly. The opponent's skill is on another level.]
Peng Wol might have been analyzing it, but I was going mad with the urge to smash that irritating bastard's skull.
The old man in front of me deflected my attacks with the most restrained movements possible, all while keeping an eye on Peng Wol, who could draw his sword and charge at any moment.
He knew it would be a headache if Peng Wol jumped in while our movements were entangled.
"Strong and fast, but that's all you've got. You seem to have mastered some impressive martial arts, yet you can't even bring out half their power."
"It's still more than enough to kill an old man like you."
I shot back at the old man's words while frantically working my hands. Even firing off Heavenly Sun Palm and Phantom Finger at the same time yielded no results, so the next move, and the one after, had to be even more precise.
Perhaps because of the pressure from not knowing when Peng Wol might join in, we traded blows in a way that was just barely manageable.
'Judging by sight is too slow.'
The demonic energy radiating from the old man sent a stinging pain through me.
Demonic energy was a product of inner power, intensifying right before an attack came.
I heightened my senses to feel every inch of my skin and moved my body as lightly as possible.
'His demonic energy, predictions, a bit of instinct.'
This was a deadly game of chess where I had to interpret information my eyes couldn't fully process using my entire body to plan the next move.
Rather than raw muscle power gathering naturally in my fingertips, a powerful energy for slaying foes flowed in softly and lightly.
"Getting a little better. But still not enough."
This guy's martial arts were probably on par with my mother's, maybe even Father's level, though I'd never truly crossed hands with him.
He was at the pinnacle of peak masters, teetering on the edge of transcendent realm.
I had no idea what the old man saw in his field of vision, but my attack flows were being split apart one after another, and sharply refined, precise energy surged from the tip of his dagger.
Like tentacles extending at will, the sword energy changed length freely, toying with me.
"Even on the verge of death, you're giving me pointers... Are you sure you're not from Shaolin instead of the Demonic Cult? Why so merciful?"
"That mouth of yours never shuts up. Even if I severed your head, it'd probably keep yapping."
The sharp sword energy wasn't sword force, so strikes of intangible energy were far weaker than a physical blade infused with it.
But compared to my Finger Wind or Palm Force, its concentrated power doubled the impact.
Tsss...
It easily tore through the thick Palm Force on my right hand, but that was a discardable card from the start.
While the old man dodged and repelled the five-pronged Phantom Finger from my left hand, my leg slammed into the ground, stamping a true stance.
Centered on my powerful step into the earth, a mighty fist wind erupted from my punch.
"Hup!"
Its power was nothing to scoff at, even for the old man. Rather than slicing it with sword energy, he unleashed an identical fist wind from his opposite hand to cancel it out.
As expected, his inner power outclassed mine. Without even planting a true stance, he nullified it effortlessly from a slightly unstable posture with a swift punch.
[Little brother, that's enough. Fall back.]
[I still have some left in me.]
[That's why I'm telling you to withdraw. It'll be much harder when you're running on empty.]
Glancing toward Peng Wol, I saw the Peng family disciples tending to Yang Ha-jeong.
My teeth ground together, but clashing hands had confirmed it: I couldn't beat this guy with my current skill.
Peng Wol and I made a terrible combo. He had the powerful one-shots and solid defense.
All I had were quick movements, and syncing with him would require him to sacrifice the strengths of his mid-range sword.
If anything, it might be more accurate to say Peng Wol had trained in a style unsuited for joint assaults.
"Retreating already? Knowing when to tuck tail can be wise."
"If you think that's some profound tactic, maybe start over with the Thousand Character Classic."
I sneered as I pulled back. It pissed me off that I couldn't kill him right now, but I'd at least drained some of his energy.
For now, leave it to Peng Wol. I was dying to know Yang Ha-jeong's condition.
Yang Ha-jeong was drenched in sweat, still unconscious.
"Seems like she was hit by demonic energy."
A Peng family disciple quietly informed me.
I couldn't fully let my guard down to check on her; I kept pressuring the old man, ready to jump back in anytime, while listening.
Demonic energy.
They called it evil qi or whatever, but it was just energy opposing natural flow. The qi of demonic arts.
Unrelated to actual demons, it gave ordinary folk natural discomfort, and harmed bodies unaccustomed to it.
Circulating qi to expel it would work, but not while unconscious like this.
"Here, at least..."
Taoist or Buddhist inner arts countered all demonic arts. Mine was suited for clashing against demonic arts.
Standing, I circulated my qi and channeled some inner power into Yang Ha-jeong through her meridians.
"Ugh..."
She frowned briefly, then her expression eased as her breathing steadied.
"Thank you, young hero."
The Peng disciple bowed, but that wasn't what mattered.
"What about the family head or the other disciples?"
If these guys had any brains, they wouldn't have ignored Peng Mu-do. They'd prepared something.
But the disciple seemed clueless. Yang Ha-jeong had led some disciples out, and they'd just followed.
'What the hell are they doing?'
I knew there had to be circumstances, but watching Peng Wol slowly being pushed back made me anxious.
The Peng Wol who'd defended against my barrages like this during the Nine Dragons Contest, occasionally baring his fangs, now looked faded before the old man's assaults.
Facing my quick Finger Winds poking at openings, he awkwardly swung his sword too hastily, halving its mid-range power.
A perfect example of swiftness overwhelming the heavy.
'Damn it.'
This setup was worse than when I faced the guy head-on and Peng Wol pressured from behind.
Without a one-shot to overwhelm the old man instantly, he could focus most of his efforts on Peng Wol.
[Big brother, fall back!]
Peng Wol heard my transmission but wouldn't withdraw easily. With my stamina somewhat recovered via circulation, I had no choice but to jump in first.
"Elder, took a quick bathroom break!"
"Hilarious. Does your heart method recover inner power from bathroom visits?"
"Gotta hustle if I want that coffin-dodging geezer to rest in peace!"
As my Phantom Finger swept the old man's legs while his face twisted briefly, Peng Wol pulled back.
We returned to the formation with Peng Wol waiting behind and me clashing directly.
"That guy's too stoic, no fun. Play with me a bit."
Damn.
No wonder a peak master like Peng Wol was getting pushed. The old man had our measure and now pressed me harder.
'He judged exactly how much leeway to hold back for Peng Wol, huh?'
His attacks, which had merely neutralized my offense, now gradually intensified.
Our attack ratio, formerly 7:3 his favor, shifted past 6:4 toward 5:5.
"This is more like it. Your earlier attacks were too hasty."
I still wanted to kill him just as badly. But confirming his skill had brought some cool-headedness back.
Still, being so casually critiqued fueled my rage.
"Ugh!"
In the end, my shoulder got sliced. I'd held out unscathed before, thinking it was manageable, but I was wrong.
'Lighter, even lighter.'
I couldn't meet his attacks head-on. Like willow leaves in the wind, keep my body light and flow with his momentum.
No thoughts of attacking. If there's spare room, maybe, but now even that's a luxury.
Our attack ratio shrank further to 2:8, but the old man's expression soured.
The dagger in his left hand switched to his right, sword energy extending like a longsword, targeting me in a rush.
Don't block—flow with my arm's motion. Don't push—pull to disrupt his aim.
The energy at my fingertips felt impossibly soft, like down feathers.
"You're one that must die."
I grinned. His words felt like the highest praise from an enemy, drawing a natural smile.
Of course, I'd kill the geezer anyway.
I didn't reply, so he furrowed his brow and tried binding me in a net of sword energy and Finger Wind.
Dangerous.
Peng Wol was moving to join from behind, but the sudden shift to hyper-aggressive offense meant he'd be at least half a beat late.
The old man would take damage once Peng Wol entered, but he was willing to risk it to kill or cripple me.
Think, think.
Shh shh shh shh...
The death net carving space like peeling an apple skin narrowed in, sentencing me step by step.
In my accelerated thoughts, I concluded perfect evasion was impossible.
'You damn geezer.'
A sudden idea hit me. I unleashed Dragon Ascent Steps to close in on the old man at max speed.
The closer I got, the fiercer the sword energy and Finger Wind barrage, but the shortened distance made attacks more linear and simplistic.
The problem: I lacked an attack potent enough to weather that storm.
Die from dozens of light hits, or one heavy blow—the difference was negligible.
But geezer, you should've considered I might have a hidden card.
Boom!
I obliterated the concentrated wave of sword energy and Finger Wind in that tight space with a single Palm Force from my right hand.
"Wha...?"
The old man stared in shock, but I swiftly closed in, readying a strike.
Now— if not now, no chance.
'Die!'
I unleashed softly refined inner power from my left hand with a light flick.
The Palm Force carrying Phantom Finger energy permeated his body like a gentle breeze.
"Kuhuk!"
Damn it all.
His face flushed deep red, so I landed a solid hit... but he wasn't dead.
"H-how can you wield such... such a palm technique...!"
"Not telling you, so off to the afterlife!"
The old man's face twisted ferociously.
It was my half-baked Internal Crushing Hand, meant as a one-hit kill, but he still had enough left to fight despite shaken internals.
His swift attacks instantly pressed me again.
'Damn, shoulda learned it properly...!'
My incomplete Internal Crushing Hand couldn't finish him.
Plus, that earlier heavy palm had expended Phantom Heaven Qi, so without it, my prowess plummeted.
Unable to fuse the two mutually opposing inner energies without Phantom Heaven Qi, my Conception and Governing vessels shut down like a closed shop.
"You look exhausted! Should've watched that mouth...!"
Thoroughly enraged, the old man ignored Peng Wol swinging his sword and targeted only me.
Some Peng disciples tried joining, but none could handle his omnidirectional lethal strikes.
Damn, damn!
The old man raised index and middle fingers on both hands, thrusting at me. Attacks laden with thick demonic energy and clear killing intent.
His bizarre, unpredictable motions were impossible to track.
I just flailed my hands, praying for one hit— no, without even time for that.
Stab.
"...What?"
Luckily, the old man whiffed. My shoulder just tingled a bit.
The trace demonic energy that pierced it got swept away by my inner power without a trace, and the old man glared daggers at me.
"You must die, absolutely! You above all!"
Boom!
As if on cue with his bellow, the wall behind him exploded, stones pouring out.
"...Huh?"
Through the shattered wall emerged Peng Mu-do, barely gripping his sword on the verge of collapse, and...
'Young Ho-kyeong?'
The Demonic Cult's Young Leader, Young Ho-kyeong, facing off against Peng Mu-do in relatively unharmed shape.
I sighed inwardly.
'We're screwed.'