Hell Demon-Slaying Staff
Before I knew it, I had realized I no longer needed to train under the moonlight.
I had finally understood that the greatest and most intense star of all was already sealed inside me.
Around the time a cool chill began to settle over the hard stone floor, I stood in a corner of the training grounds with the black staff gripped in my hands.
Vast internal energy flowed out through my fingertips. Fierce staff qi, powerful enough to pulverize boulders, coiled around the black staff and set the air trembling.
Tsutsutsu—
Under the influence of the Seongun Simbeop, the energy glittered like pure white starlight.
Battles between masters always burned through internal energy at a ferocious rate. Peak Realm martial artists in particular often found their dantians scraped clean in less than half a shichen once they started drawing out sword qi during a life-and-death duel. That was how difficult it was to force the energy inside the body into an external form. Techniques like sword qi or staff qi delivered tremendous power in exchange for abysmal efficiency—true killing arts. That was why, if a fight looked like it might drag on, most people never kept the qi constantly manifested; they only brought it out when they needed it.
Yet here, on the training grounds of the Eunseong Merchant Group, there was a certain eccentric who had somehow maintained pure white staff qi for more than two full shichen.
"Dog-Beating Dragon... you're keeping staff qi up for over two shichen right now, aren't you?"
"He started gathering it the moment he began training earlier, so yeah, pretty much..."
"That's insane. What the hell has that guy been eating to have that much internal energy?"
The Eunseong Merchant Group's escorts training in the center of the grounds kept sneaking glances my way, each of them muttering in open admiration. Switching my practice time from dawn to midday had produced exactly this sort of reaction. If they were going to gawk, I wished they would at least spread some good rumors for business—something about how ridiculously skilled this body of mine had become.
"I keep forgetting, Captain... you're really not human."
Ilhong approached with a thoroughly defeated look on her face once it became clear I still had energy left after holding staff qi for over two shichen. She herself was wiped out after rolling around under Hwang Geolgae for even a single shichen, so of course she wanted to know what kind of unholy method let someone pile that much energy into their dantian. That was how far beyond common sense my internal energy reserves had already climbed.
Hmph... meaningless... I keep telling you.
Salsung chimed in as well, her mood thoroughly soured every time I stole a little more of the Heavenly Killing Star's power that had been weakened by good deeds. Red letters that seemed to snort in pure disdain. Her constant nagging was still annoying, but I had started treating it as a twisted form of praise.
"Mujin, did you take some kind of miracle pill when I wasn't looking?"
Jo Harang, who claimed our training styles meshed perfectly and therefore chased after me every session, was staring at me from the side with eyes that said she half-refused to believe it.
"Miracle pill? Please..."
I gave a hollow laugh and shook my head. I was already plenty bitter about the fact that even though this body came from a prestigious clan, I had never gotten to swallow a single proper miracle pill. Of course, I did currently have one of the Moyong Clan's elixirs sleeping quietly in my robes—but that had not been free. I had earned it fair and square after saving my older sister's life and putting in every ounce of effort I had.
"Heh heh. You think anyone would actually feed you a miracle pill?"
Hwang Geolgae seemed to have read my thoughts; he shook a gourd that sloshed with liquor and flashed a crooked grin. Oddly enough, he had started overseeing not only Ilhong's training but also Jo Harang's—the two of them had been awkward around each other at first, but that phase had long since passed. The moment Jo Harang heard that this was the man who raised me, her face lit up and she started following him around for martial instruction without a second thought. In the Murim, etiquette was extremely strict; wasn't it considered a serious breach of propriety for one disciple to serve two masters without permission?
"Hehe, my master doesn't care about stuff like that."
She explained that their relationship was closer to parent and child than the rigid master-disciple bond, so if the training helped her, her own master would only be glad. Looking at her, it was easy to believe she had grown up in a warm environment. Her personality was bright, she trusted people easily, and she could even be a little naive at times. Our master-disciple pair, on the other hand, was pure chaos. My so-called master was a drunk who led with his fists first and asked questions later. There was probably a reason my own personality had grown rougher than in my previous life.
"You little brat. That look in your eyes is suspicious. You're cursing this old man in your head, aren't you?"
He must have read something in my sidelong glance.
"As expected of the Divine Wind Daoist. Spot on."
Thwack!
The bottom of the gourd slammed hard into the crown of my head. My scalp instantly flushed red and started swelling. I rubbed the spot and pointed at the rising lump for Jo Harang's benefit, as if to say, See?
"Harang, you seeing this? This is how I live."
Even though she wasn't an official disciple, he still offered advice and instruction, so she had started thinking he was actually a decent guy. Reality was the opposite. There was definitely some ulterior motive behind him teaching her as well.
"W-well, Mujin... maybe he's hitting you because you were rude first?"
The girl who had grown up in a good environment, of course, completely flipped the cause and effect.
"Hey, I act like a brat because he hits me like that."
If every little thing ended with a beating, how was anyone supposed to bow and scrape? This Dan Mujin still had his pride as a man.
"Heh heh. I hit you because you've got no promise, you brat."
Hwang Geolgae tipped the gourd back and snickered. This was exactly our master-disciple relationship: endlessly arguing over whose fault it was.
I tossed aside the chicken-or-egg koan and finally asked the question that had been nagging at me.
"But Master, what kind of wind suddenly blew that made you decide to teach Harang too?"
She had always hovered near the merchant group until my training finished or waited for me with endless longing at the office. Hwang Geolgae had simply watched that for a while, then one day suddenly summoned Jo Harang onto the training grounds as well.
"Because your growth is so damn ridiculously fast, that's why."
His expression said he still couldn't believe it. I just shrugged. Charging into the Imperial Palace's inspection agency just to save a single courtesan had been the act of a complete lunatic, sure. And then I had rescued Ju Wolay from that stalker's hands and, out of concern for her safety, even turned down her confession—an absolutely heartbreaking waste. Thanks to all that, the internal energy in my dantian had long since blown past one gapja and now rivaled the terrifying amount possessed by a Transcendent Realm master.
"Isn't a disciple growing fast a good thing? What does that have to do with anything?"
When I thought about it, his answer still didn't make sense, so I pressed again, genuinely puzzled.
"Tsk tsk. Someone has to keep you in check... no, someone has to compete with you, doesn't he?"
The more martial arts he taught me and the more I improved by leaps and bounds, the heavier his sense of responsibility seemed to grow.
"...Damn old man."
Instead of rejoicing at his disciple's rapid growth, he was being wary of it? Worry about me first, not the Central Plains. I felt like I had only wasted time by opening my mouth.
I shook my head and forced my focus back onto training. I forgot the sunlight pouring onto the crown of my head, forgot the startled stares of the nearby escorts, forgot even Jo Harang and Ilhong, and poured every scrap of my will into the single staff in my hands.
Tsutsutsutsu—
Staff qi denser and clearer than it had ever been before. The torrent of internal energy made it feel as though sword qi would burst outward at any moment, yet it clung stubbornly to the black staff and refused to fall away. I had started to pride myself on growing familiar with sword qi and external energy, but I was still a long way from the "sword force" that Transcendent Realm masters could project.
"How the hell do Transcendent Realm martial artists even do it?"
No matter how hard I racked my brains, no matter how much I trained day and night, progress felt like slamming face-first into a towering wall.
"What's the principle?"
Sword force, fist force—arts that had threatened my life more than once. Even if I had absurd amounts of internal energy, even if I could briefly force out sword force or staff force despite their even worse efficiency than sword qi... in the end, the only one who could stand alone against a Transcendent Realm martial artist was another Transcendent Realm martial artist with the same ability. And my path ahead was clearly going to be lined with thorns. I had a feeling I would keep running into masters like that, so I wanted that power in my hands no matter what.
I finally stared down at the black staff with regretful eyes as it returned to its original pure black after my internal energy ran dry.
"You wanted the Transcendent Realm at your age? What an arrogant little bastard."
My master snorted right as his disciple hit the wall of failure. His slightly tipsy face twisted into a sly grin as he asked whether I had really thought simply piling up internal energy would be enough.
"Then how am I supposed to reach the Transcendent Realm?"
I planted the tip of the staff on the ground and asked for the method.
"Haaah. Your attitude when seeking instruction is truly terrible."
This damn old man. I pulled a snack from my robes and offered it with exaggerated respect, then asked again. The old man popped the honey-filled wheat cake into his mouth as a side dish and chewed thoughtfully before answering.
"I don't know either. Everyone's path is different."
"What do you mean, you don't—"
"But from my experience, most of the ones who reach the Transcendent Realm are people who wandered the world and piled up all sorts of experiences."
He added that he himself had only been able to achieve real progress after throwing off the shackles of the Dragon Head Sect Leader position—the same repetitive duties day after day—and walking out into the world. The story wasn't much help to me right now, but at least I could set a direction. Just keep doing troubleshooter work.
"I'm already stacking every weird experience imaginable, though."
Hadn't I already been through things no ordinary martial artist or wanderer would ever encounter?
"True. You've stacked so many that it's become a problem. Especially getting tangled up with the Son of Heaven a few times."
He tapped my black staff—the one Emperor Hongrak had gifted me—with a mysterious look on his face. He warned me that there was definitely some ulterior motive behind the gift and that I should stay on my guard. But I had suffered plenty for it, so maybe the emperor had just decided to put a decent weapon in my hands. I had no desire to hear that kind of talk from a master who gifted his disciple a roughly carved wooden stick or a standard merchant-group iron sword and called it precious.
"Anyway, why are you so obsessed with the Transcendent Realm?"
He said he himself had fallen into heart demons chasing it long ago, and asked why I wanted it so badly. I silently glanced at Hwang Geolgae, then looked away.
"Ah. You want to pay me back for all the times I hit you?"
I hadn't said a word, yet he read it with ghostly accuracy and laughed as if he couldn't believe it.
"I didn't say anything."
"It's written all over your face, you little colt."
Talking with Hwang Geolgae while training after so long still produced that strange effect of making my chest feel tight after just ten minutes. I focused on the tip of the staff again, trying to refine the sensation. At some point the movements started landing cleaner and sharper than before. Until now the power had been packed too tight; only after I completely emptied my internal energy did something finally click.
Watching me, Hwang Geolgae opened his mouth with a faintly surprised look.
"Hoh. Looks like you've already reached the sixth star of the Dog-Beating Staff Technique."
The realm I actually wanted refused to budge, and instead the achievement of the Dog-Beating Staff Technique I had dusted off after so long had jumped ahead. Feeling cheated, I whipped the tip of the staff even harder, slicing the air. Even without pure white internal energy, the black staff still scattered fierce, ringing sounds.
Then Hwang Geolgae, who had been observing my progress, suddenly pointed at my staff as if curiosity had gotten the better of him.
"By the way—this is sudden, but what is that black staff's name?"
It was an item the emperor had personally taken from the imperial treasury and bestowed, so of course it ought to have a proper name. Unfortunately I had nothing to tell him.
"He never told me."
It had been sitting forgotten deep inside the Imperial Vault of Heavenly Treasures where no one ever went, so maybe the name itself had been lost. When I explained that, Hwang Geolgae tilted his head and examined the black staff more carefully.
"Hmm. Curious. Very curious."
"Captain, then you should just give it a name yourself."
Ilhong's suggestion actually sounded pretty good. Just calling it "black staff" because it was black felt a little pathetic. Famous martial artists always carried a beloved weapon with a proper, imposing name.
"Ilhong, lend me your carving knife for a second."
I borrowed the sharp little knife she used for her human-skin mask and began carving a stylish name across the surface of the black staff with smooth strokes.
"Captain, what did you write?"
One decisive flourish. After pouring my heart into it, five characters were complete, and Ilhong asked from behind my back what I had written.
"Hell Demon-Slaying Staff."
The staff that would guide the wicked into hell by slaying demons.
"Ugh, eugh."
Ilhong shook her head as if the name was hopelessly tacky.
"Oh... that might actually be cool."
The Purple Micro Star, whose very nature was to cut down evil, praised my naming sense as if she genuinely liked it. As expected, only Jo Harang understood this aesthetic.
"Howl, black staff."
The weapon that would smash the skulls of every villain had just been born.
Its name: the Hell Demon-Slaying Staff.