Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Sword Qi
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Sword qi.
Infusing energy into a sword to wield it.
But it didn't have to be a sword.
Infuse it into a saber and it becomes saber qi; into a fist, and it turns into fist qi.
Thwip!
Jinhye thrust out his fist repeatedly, wrapped layer upon layer in blue energy.
Jinmu staggered back even though the fist hadn't touched him.
He was dodging the gaps in the fist qi extending from the punches.
"You bastard! You think you can keep dodging here?!"
Twisting his nose in fury, Jinhye lunged forward a pace, closing the distance as he swiftly switched his technique.
His fist spread open wide, and his hand, fingers sharply extended, vanished.
Shriiip!
The air tore with a ripping sound from the blinding speed.
Shadowless Divine Grasping Hand.
One of Wudang's proud golden grasping techniques, famed for its speed so fast no shadow formed.
They said that when unleashed with energy at full speed, the trails of blue sword-lines left behind resembled a net.
'Bastard! You won't even see it.'
Sneering at Jinmu retreating from his hand, Jinhye moved even faster.
Whoosh!
His crossed hands vanished, and a massive blue net descended to ensnare Jinmu.
But.
His opponent was Jinmu.
Shadowless Divine Grasping Hand?
Shadowless, my ass. It was all in plain view. So plain he could yawn.
Jinhye was exerting himself enthusiastically, but...
'Wasting effort on something pointless. What a joke. Not even worth my time.'
As Jinmu leisurely dodged, shaking his head, Jinhye thought:
'Bastard! How's that? This is the difference in skill! You're barely dodging with all your might! But it's over now!'
But that thought was gradually changing.
An inch.
He had already dodged every single hand movement by a mere inch dozens of times.
As that inch never closed no matter what, impatience crept into Jinhye's strikes.
"Idiot. No matter how far the energy extends, there's a limit to the range."
'What?'
"It's all the same whether you waste it here or there. Why hold on?"
Jinmu's words carried a subtle enlightenment toward transcendence, but to Jinhye, they were just mocking nonsense.
"Shut up! A punk like you..."
More enraged, Jinhye poured in all his power, but.
No matter how fast or flashy, a sword that doesn't cut is useless, and a grasp that misses is mere flailing.
'Damn it. Need to grab that manual quick and build up my internal energy.'
Irritated at wasting time tussling with Jinhye, Jinmu put strength into his retreating back foot.
He merely stopped, but to Jinhye's eyes, it looked like surrender.
"Got you, bastard!"
With triumphant eyes, Jinhye reached for Jinmu's pulse point.
The moment he grabbed, he'd yank him off the cliff.
"...!"
In an instant, the afterimage blurred, and Jinmu vanished as Jinhye's hand swiped empty air.
He hadn't dodged—he had completely disappeared from sight.
'Wh-what?!'
Jinhye hurriedly scanned front, back, left, right, and peered below.
Not fallen off the cliff, nor behind him.
"Looking for something?"
A voice from above.
Jinhye whipped his head up in horror.
On the cliff face overhead.
The vanished Jinmu stood there arms crossed, looking down as if it were flat ground.
And he grinned.
"Now, who's going to be the one to slip?"
Jinmu's canines gleamed white, as if ready to sink into Jinhye's nape.
As Jinhye desperately tried to retreat, Jinmu skimmed the cliff in a low stance and circled behind.
"D-demonic art!"
"Idiot, it's the Wall-Climbing Technique."
"Th-that...!"
But it was already too late.
The moment Jinmu grabbed Jinhye's hair and yanked.
"Argh!"
Jinhye's feet slipped from the cliff path.
Dangling in midair, hair gripped by Jinmu, he flailed.
Crunch, cruuunch.
The pain like his scalp tearing off was one thing, but.
"Your hair's pretty tough, huh."
"...!"
The moment it tore free...
'I-I'm dead.'
Terror-stricken, Jinhye clutched Jinmu's wrist with both hands.
He twisted with force, infused energy to snap it, but Jinmu's hand didn't budge.
The humiliation of dangling helplessly outweighed the hair pain.
No method freed him from Jinmu's grip.
"Let go, you bastard!"
Jinmu chuckled absurdly at Jinhye's gritted-teeth shout.
"Let go?"
Let go and he'd die?
Jinhye realized it too and stopped demanding release, flailing desperately instead.
He wanted to twist his body using Jinmu's hand and spring up, but even that was impossible.
Jinmu's grip was ironclad. He couldn't twitch.
"S-save me!"
"Huh? What's that? Can't hear you."
"Save me!"
Jinhye shrieked, veins bulging in his neck.
"Why should I?"
"What?"
"You... just happened to slip."
Jinmu's low voice paled Jinhye's face.
His strength waned.
Jinmu was slowly loosening his hair grip.
And twisting his wrist to shake him off.
Peering down with lowered eyes, the cliff bottom vanished into darkness.
Jinhye couldn't wall-run like Jinmu.
Fall?
Chilling just to imagine.
"Hey, it happens. Slipping like that."
"W-wait!"
"No waiting. Save your strength and scream when you fall."
No pity in Jinmu's voice.
A First Generation Disciple of Wudang.
Entered at fifteen.
Talent recognized, received a Taoist name, became First Generation under Elder Myeonggong at twenty-five.
Now thirty.
Enlightened to profound mysteries through his benevolent master's teachings, one of the Wudang Seven Heroes.
But the baser the man, the more he cherished his own life above all.
And.
Decades buried in mountains, honing martial arts relentlessly—Jinhye had never faced death.
To him, death was an unknown terror.
Now it loomed, greeting him, filling him with piss-your-pants fear.
"P-please spare me."
"What? Can't hear."
"Spare me!"
What to do?
People crave what they're told not to do, kill those begging to live.
To Jinmu, Jinhye was a dragonfly to pluck wings from and discard.
And not particularly useful.
He'd squeezed House Wu for all it was worth; this ingrate tried to kill him despite chances given—no loss killing now.
"No reason to."
"No! Please spare me! I'll swear loyalty! Just this once!"
Jinhye bellowed, echoing through the mountains; Jinmu smirked wickedly.
"Sigh, I'm too soft-hearted. Should just kill scum like you."
Crunch!
With the sound of grass uprooted by the fistful, Jinhye's body yanked up and hurled.
Thud!
Pain exploded as he slammed onto the ledge, joints throbbing, scalp torn and bleeding profusely.
But relief at survival let him exhale.
Yet he couldn't calm. Heart pounding wildly, limbs trembling uncontrollably.
He'd peeked into hell's maw and returned.
"Hey."
"...!"
"Not answering?"
"Y-yes, sir!"
Jinmu frowned; Jinhye answered frantically.
"Last chance."
Gulp.
Terrifying.
Jinmu squatting before him was utterly fearsome.
No longer a junior brother.
Not even a lowly Taoist boy.
A reaper who could sever his head anytime.
"One more stunt, and I'll smash you and all of House Wu. Got it?"
"...Y-yes, understood."
Jinhye's eyes bulged, face ashen as he replied.
"Good. Lead the way."
"Yes, sir!"
Jinmu let him ahead, but legs shook too much to walk.
Forcing step by step.
"Hurry up or I'll shove you off?"
Jinhye's pace quickened instantly.
Naturally. A reaper chased him.
Arriving at the Scripture Pavilion with Jinhye after the long ledge, an elderly man in his twilight years emerged, opening the entrance door.
Wrinkle-covered face made his age indeterminable.
"Greetings, Elder Ungong."
"Ah, Jinhye. But what's with that disheveled state?"
"Uh, w-well..."
Jinhye hesitated; Jinmu smiled and answered.
"I saved Martial Brother from nearly falling off the ledge. Happened to grab his hair."
No wonder it looked odd.
Hair tousled, torn follicles bleeding, staining his face.
"Tsk tsk, nearly fell off the ledge?"
Elder Ungong looked up at Jinmu.
As he raised his head, piercing divine light burst through wrinkles, vanishing instantly.
"...!"
Jinmu felt a chill.
As if that gaze pierced his body.
Ungong.
"Un" was a generation name unused in modern Wudang.
Current was Myeong-Jin-Cheong.
'Above that, Hyun-Ja, Yeong-Ja, Ok... then Un... Ja? No way...?'
Impossible.
An "Un" generation Taoist would be at least 120.
If real, he'd have ascended or turned to dust underground, soul dispersed.
Jinmu chuckled at his wandering thoughts.
"You, that sly grin looks like some vile unorthodox scum."
"..."
"Hmph. Anyway, the power accumulated in your body is clearly Wudang's Taoist force, yet how... What an odd affair. Something happened while I wasn't looking?"
Hearing the old man's mutter as he read the letter, intrigue flickered in Jinmu's eyes.
What? This old coot?
Jinmu had probed him with internal energy upon meeting.
Felt nothing.
Like the old man at Wumolou before, and now this Wudang elder...
"Martial Brother."
"Yes? Oh, uh-huh?"
"Who is he?"
Jinmu whispered, pointing at the letter-reading elder.
"Ah, Elder Ungong has guarded the Scripture Pavilion for ages..."
"How long?"
"Well."
Come to think, even Jinhye didn't know.
No one mentioned it; he'd never asked.
"Don't know?"
"Yes. Master never said."
"Hm, I see."
Called "Elder," not a disciple with Wudang Taoist name.
Otherwise, it'd be Martial Granduncle or such.
Indeed, no such old man during his visit a decade-plus ago.
Definitely something about this old guy.
Pondering the elder's identity, Jinmu irritably shook his head.
'Damn! Just complicates things. What do I care.'
Jinmu's lifelong creed: 'Thinking's for ink-stained scholars.'
Worrying needlessly taxed the brain.
Act on whim, handle what comes.
That was his nature.
Anyway, become Great Disciple and done.
No plans to stay in Wudang after learning Two Forms Heart Art.
As long as the old man didn't interfere, fine.
"Tsk tsk, quite a hefty amount. Copying it'll take at least a month, so off with you. I'll send word when ready."
"Yes, Elder."
Jinhye bowed politely; Jinmu eyed the elder suspiciously all the way out of the pavilion.