Chapter 10: I've Been Kidnapped (2)
Chapter 10: I've Been Kidnapped (2)
The Taoist, Jang Wol-sang, sat in the tea house with a relaxed expression.
In the bustling afternoon of Shuntian Prefecture, where countless people moved to and fro, this particular tea house remained as still as a stagnant pond.
The entrance was firmly sealed.
No one would be able to approach this place, nor would they even think to try.
The entrance, blocked by the sorcery of the Left-Path Faction, would not even register in the eyes of the common folk.
Inside this makeshift safe house, the metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air.
It was the scent of the tea house owner and the employees.
This place was being used as a hideout for the Hwaeom White Lotus Sect, and later, it would serve as evidence of a massacre carried out during the Black Dragon Gang’s tyranny.
"Exquisite."
A smile played on Jang Wol-sang’s lips.
This plan was so perfect it could be said to have been ordained by the Unborn Venerable Mother herself.
The Demonic Cult of the Heavenly Mountains had practically handed over their finest successor with their own hands.
A coward, fearing internal strife, had created this opportunity by personally surrendering the Extreme Demonic Body that had fallen into his lap.
Through the miscalculation of those fools, only the White Lotus Cult had secured the foundation to prevent an alliance between the Peng Family and the Demonic Cult, while simultaneously planting their own spies within the Hebei Peng Family.
This was enough. Now, amidst the chaos of the Demonic Cult and the Peng Family blaming one another, the flower of Hwaeom would bloom.
The Hebei Peng Family, which dominated Shuntian Prefecture, and the Demonic Cult, soaring from the Heavenly Mountains—both were thorns in the side of the White Lotus Cult.
How long had they endured and waited since the treacherous Hongwu Emperor, who founded the Great Ming, betrayed the cult?
Jang Wol-sang looked up at the sky.
Though it was late evening and night had not yet fallen, a cluster of stars shimmered.
The heavenly secret portended great fortune.
Once the Young Cult Leader arrived here shortly, he would purge the Black Dragon Gang—who had served as his hands and feet—and frame them as the culprits. That would be the end of this affair.
"…?"
Time passed.
An affair that should have been wrapped up and vacated within fifteen minutes at the latest had not concluded even after two hours.
The time when the warriors of the Black Dragon Gang should have arrived with the Young Cult Leader had long since passed.
A deep furrow appeared between Jang Wol-sang’s brows. He let out a heavy sigh, gripped his bamboo hat, and stood up.
"Those wretched insects. Do they truly struggle this much just to bring a single child?"
"Sixth Elder. If you move prematurely, you will be exposed to the eyes of the Imperial Court."
"That would be true if I took you lot with me. You stay here and be ready to leave at a moment's notice."
"By your command."
Passing through the rows of cultists, he opened the door of the tea house.
The Sixth Elder of the Hwaeom White Lotus Sect, the Sword Blood Ghost Demon Jang Wol-sang, headed toward the street with a nonchalant expression.
Blending naturally into the crowd, he arrived at the entrance of the Black Dragon Gang’s headquarters.
"Hah."
The sight he encountered was something that did not fall under any of the numerous possibilities he had anticipated.
"Did you do this?"
The entrance to the Black Dragon Gang was demolished, and blood was splattered everywhere inside. Amidst the torn and scattered fragments of flesh…
A young boy stood still, leaning against a blade he had driven into the floor.
"Can't you tell by looking…?"
Through the gaps in his hair, matted and parted by clotted blood, his eyes gleamed with a piercing brilliance unbefitting his age.
Jang Wol-sang felt a surge of 'surprise'—a sensation he hadn't felt once since crossing the threshold of the Peak Realm.
"It might be better to pluck those eyes out."
"Marvelous… truly. This cannot be explained simply by the Peng Family having an exceptional martial talent."
No answer came from the boy’s mouth.
Only a ragged, intermittent breath followed, as if he might collapse at any moment.
Jang Wol-sang hadn't asked the question expecting an answer, either.
He looked around in quiet admiration.
At least ten men lay dead.
Judging by the wounds on their bodies, they were the work of that blade.
Every scar pointed to the Peng Family’s martial arts.
Torn, crushed, smashed, and scattered. It was a carnage that would make a grown man vomit.
Amidst those most gruesome bloodstains, the sight of the boy standing straight was profoundly alien.
As he watched the boy, Jang Wol-sang traced the source of that alien sensation.
Slowly, delicately. He employed the sensory perception of a Peak Realm master and the Taoist sorcery he had studied for years.
He saw it—the Upper Dantian, still open.
As if he had once been possessed by something.
As if it had been forced open in his early childhood and had failed to heal.
The Upper Dantian is the gateway to the heavens.
That organ, which is open to everyone as an infant, naturally closes and seals itself rapidly as one ages.
After that, more than ninety percent of those who attempt to force the Upper Dantian open normally go mad or become idiots.
But this child was different.
Due to 'something' that had dwelled within him as an infant, he had grown up with his Upper Dantian naturally left open.
Such an organ was wide open.
It wasn't completely unleashed, nor was it functioning as a proper Dantian, but…
Was that all? Could this mere babe of a child slaughter over a dozen grown men and still stand tall just because of that?
No, that wasn't it. The functions of the Upper Dantian are limited to comprehension, judgment, reflexes, dynamic visual acuity, and responsiveness.
While those alone constitute a god-given talent for martial arts, this child possessed something more.
Jang Wol-sang’s eyes moved from Peng Hyeon-hwi’s crown and slowly drifted upward.
And then, he witnessed something above him.
"Guh…!!"
In an instant, his talismans moved rapidly, sticking to somewhere on the ceiling.
Tatatat! Dozens of talismans flew out simultaneously, sticking to the ceiling and window frames, blotting out the night sky.
As if that weren't enough to ease his mind, Jang Wol-sang had to stumble back and chant a mantra.
He muttered, struggling to forget what he had just seen as quickly as possible.
"Heavenly Killer…? Heavenly Star…? Heavenly Martial Star…? No, it’s not them. Then this is…?"
Since ancient times, it has been said in Taoism that there are 108 Heavenly Lords in the sky.
The 36 Heavenly Stars and the 72 Earthly Fiends. Those who, in the distant past, chose to become stars themselves and became the gatekeepers to the heavens.
Even if their ancient ferocity no longer remained, stars were inherently fickle beings.
Occasionally, they would leave their mark upon the earth.
Once in a generation, or perhaps even longer.
The Heavenly Killer Star, the Heavenly Star, the Heavenly Martial Star. Those who, whenever they appeared, left their footprints not just in the history of the martial world, but in the history of the Central Plains itself.
Such people were said to be born under the stars of the Heavenly Lords.
If one were to count them, there were 108 stars—36 Heavenly Stars and 72 Earthly Fiends. At the pain that felt like his eyes were burning just from meeting that gaze from ancient myth, Jang Wol-sang laughed, crushing a blackened talisman in his hand.
"I want him."
Jang Wol-sang smiled brightly and brushed off his hands.
Talismans extending from beneath his sleeves stuck to the walls of the alley leading to the Black Dragon Gang.
Only after blocking the influx of passersby with basic Left-Path sorcery and checking on Im Hwa-yeong, who was huddled in a corner trembling, did Jang Wol-sang continue his stride.
"I will give you two choices."
"…."
"Join our cult. I will take you as my direct disciple and teach you all of our cult's martial arts. If you bow to me right here and now, I shall overlook the tedious formalities."
"And the… other choice…?"
"You will die as a warrior of the Peng Family. Your kidnapping of the Young Cult Leader here today will remain the independent act of the Black Dragon Gang, and you will be remembered as the hero of the Peng Family who entered the Black Dragon Gang alone and caused a massacre.
No one will know I was here, and the Young Cult Leader will lose her mind in this bloodbath, vanish alone, and never be found by anyone."
"…."
"What say you? Will you take the chance to live and spread your talent across the world, or will you die and leave your name in your family as a boy hero?"
At Jang Wol-sang’s words, the boy raised his head.
The hand gripping the hilt of the blade was pale and trembling violently.
It was obvious to anyone that Peng Hyeon-hwi was severely injured.
His body was covered in sword wounds he had failed to block, and he had already lost enough blood to lose consciousness.
It was incomprehensible. No matter how third-rate they were, these were all Black Path warriors who lived by the blade.
They were cowardly, cunning, and cruel men who had lived that way their entire lives.
Look at the carnage wrought against such men by a mere child… no, even calling him a child was an understatement—a seven-year-old boy.
Jang Wol-sang secretly thought that no matter who he told this to in the cult, no one would believe him.
This was the boy who had achieved such a feat. If he took him and taught him, how far could he grow?
He had heard the boy was the fourth son. If so, there was no chance of him inheriting the family.
"Your family will not give you enough opportunities. But if you follow me, you may one day encompass the status of the Fifteen Lords of the Central Plains."
"…."
"Are you too young to understand the meaning of these words?"
It was a pity. In that case, he had no choice but to take him by force.
It would be a waste to kill him. That greed pushed Jang Wol-sang’s body forward.
Even in that moment, the boy remained still, merely watching him.
"My choice is…"
The boy’s cracked lips parted slightly.
As Jang Wol-sang stopped before him, the boy looked up at him.
"This."
Slash!
Before he knew it, the blade was raised.
The heavy hunk of iron, matted with clotted blood and nearly as large as his own body, was somehow swung upward with one hand.
And, unexpectedly for a posture that looked ready to collapse at any moment, it was a powerful strike.
The moment he confirmed the strike being delivered with full force, the smile on Jang Wol-sang’s face deepened.
The wounds on all the corpses here. It was now confirmed that they were caused by this single strike.
Thud. The blade Peng Hyeon-hwi swung stopped in mid-air as if nailed to the void.
Without moving a single finger, Jang Wol-sang caught and fixed the blade with his gaze alone.
"Hwi… Hwi!! Run… Run away!"
Im Hwa-yeong, who had barely managed to spit out her gag, screamed.
But where and how could he run?
She herself was sobbing, fully realizing that fact.
To the boy staring blankly at the blade frozen in the air, Jang Wol-sang’s soft voice continued.
"The ones you cut down did not exceed the third-rate. They were no different from the wretches who have just entered the path of martial arts—scoundrels who never aspired for more."
"…."
"Upon reaching the second-rate, one becomes able to emit their energy. The control of internal energy dwells within the weapon as if it were part of one's own body. Have you seen it? Like a shimmering haze, power is imbued into the weapon one swings."
And then, the first-rate. A realm where the control of internal energy is no longer limited to simply moving the body faster and stronger.
The limit of ordinary men. A realm where one encounters a wall that cannot be surpassed even with a lifetime of training.
Upon reaching that realm, the internal energy within the body manifests clearly outside.
The realm where that condensed energy alone can harm others: Sword Qi Hurt Humans.
"And after that, there is a realm that only a tiny fraction among countless warriors can reach. A new study begins when internal energy no longer stays in the Lower Dantian and finally awakens the Middle Dantian."
The Peak Realm. A realm where internal energy surges through the body's meridians like a powerful pulse from the heart.
It is the realm where the control of internal energy finally becomes free.
Warriors who reach this realm live in a different time than ordinary men.
It is a realm for those who struggle within the span of an instant.
And just like now.
"Thinking, looking, and sensing alone can freeze the bodies of ordinary men and stop their blades. This is a technique one naturally reaches upon achieving the Sword Qi Transformed into Aura of the Peak Realm. This is the first lesson I give to my new disciple, so take it to heart."
"Then… what about my grandfather…?"
"What?"
"I asked what realm my grandfather has reached…."
At those audacious words, the corner of Jang Wol-sang’s mouth twitched.
He gave a hollow laugh and replied.
"First, I must fix your manner of speaking."
As Jang Wol-sang’s gaze landed on it, the blade the boy held shattered in half and scattered.
Peng Hyeon-hwi’s gaze briefly followed the breaking blade.
Enjoying that look, Jang Wol-sang replied leisurely.
"But yes, if it is your grandfather, he must have awakened his Upper Dantian. I have never witnessed it myself, but it is a realm that is a heaven beyond heaven for you to fathom, so do not trouble yourself with it right now. However, if you follow me and train diligently, you too will one day reach that realm—"
In the next moment, Jang Wol-sang’s words were cut short.
His gaze slowly drifted downward.
"…What?"
Whoosh!!
The sound arrived a step later than the phenomenon.
Amidst the sensory perception of a Peak Realm master—that sharp sense said to have already transcended the limits of human cognition.
KABOOM!!!
By the time he felt a streak of light graze past him, it had already vanished, demolishing the wall of the pavilion.
"Cough… Urgh?!!"
Jang Wol-sang quickly pulled back and spun around. His arm… was gone.
His left arm had been blown away by that single strike.
With a trembling hand, he quickly pressed the acupoints on the stump to stop the bleeding and stared at the shattered entrance.
Kiiiiing…
A faint, ringing sound could be heard. A sword hum.
The sound of vibrating iron became a chilling, ghostly wail that filled the pavilion.
The streak of light that had demolished a corner of the pavilion slowly revealed itself.
As if being delicately pulled by something invisible, a single pitch-black blade floated alone, moving toward the entrance of the pavilion.
Amidst that dignified movement, the shape of the blade became visible.
Characteristics that every warrior passing through this land of Hebei must know came to mind.
The Single-Door Blade of the Peng Family Head.
A ragged groan escaped Jang Wol-sang’s lips.
"Bloodhound Asura…."
Thump.
The sound of footsteps was heard.
From a distance that wasn't close, with steps that weren't loud.
Yet, as clear as thunder booming in one's ear.
A giant was coming.
"Peng Ik-jin…!"
The Head of the Peng Family was coming.
Among all the warriors in the current Central Plains, there were fifteen who were considered the strongest.
The Fifteen Lords of the Central Plains.
And from among them, three were chosen.
The Three Venerables of the World.
The Abbot of Songshan Shaolin, the Divine Monk, Grand Master Hyegak.
The Supreme Patriarch of the Jongnam Sect, the Sword Immortal, Cheongunja Jang Yun.
The Head of the Hebei Peng Family, the Blade Emperor, Bloodhound Asura Peng Ik-jin.
A man who could have vied for the title of the world's strongest in any era was coming to this place.
"You are right."
The giant’s voice arrived before his footsteps.
"I have awakened my Upper Dantian; for that child, I am still a heaven beyond heaven; and my grandson will indeed be able to take my place one day."
Jang Wol-sang froze and turned his gaze.
Before he knew it, warriors in black martial robes with red sleeves were filling the pavilion.
He hadn't even noticed.
Every one of them was in a realm superior to his own.
The elders of the Hebei Peng Family were here.
None of them even laid a hand on their hilts.
Rather, their attitude suggested they didn't even care about his existence.
All of them were offering their respects to their Family Head.
Even as they were enraged by the injuries of their beloved youngest grandson and marveled at this bloody battle.
They still bowed quietly.
"However, unlike you, I will not give you a choice."
The floating blade slowly wound itself into the giant’s hand.
The elderly man of grand stature looked down at Jang Wol-sang with cold, dry eyes.