Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Setting Sail
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Splash!
The boat, loaded heavily with cargo, sliced through the river and departed from Danganggu.
A fair wind was blowing.
The sails, billowing taut as if they might burst under the full force of the wind, propelled the boat forward at increasing speed.
"Heh heh heh."
Jinmu, sitting at the bow, wore a very pleased expression, unlike when he had descended Wudang Mountain.
"Senior Uncle."
"Oh, it's you, Cheongsang."
"Here."
Cheongsang politely offered a bottle of liquor toward Jinmu, who was grinning so widely his teeth were fully on display.
Pop!
A fragrant aroma spread as the cork was removed.
Gulp.
A sharp bite filled his mouth as he took a swig.
"Ahh! This booze hits the spot!"
Jinmu wiped his mouth with the hem of his robe and laughed.
"Want some?"
"No, thank you, Senior Uncle. I'm fine."
Cheongsang refused, standing rigidly at attention.
The people from the Ilhae Merchant Group, crowding the gunwales, glared at Jinmu like he was some kind of pest.
But the Second Generation Disciples of Wudang, led by Cheongsang, were utterly tense.
"Go rest. We won't see any numbers until we've passed far beyond Danganggu Reservoir."
"Yes, sir!"
Jinmu's voice was gentle, laced with genuine care for his juniors.
Yet Cheongsang was even more deferential than before.
"Beautiful weather! Cool breeze, ha ha! Downstream voyage, what a treat!"
Jinmu looked like he was about to recite a line from the ancestors with flair.
But Cheongsang...
'To think he took down Senior Uncle Jingung...'
It was reverence bordering on awe.
Cheongsang, Cheongu, and the rest of the Second Generation Disciples had seen it clearly the day before.
The terrifying sight of Jinmu grinning like a demon amid the chaos had been chillingly intense.
'I have to do well. If I fall out of favor, he might really kill me.'
The day before, at the Ilhae Merchant Group.
Jingung's palm shot toward Jinmu with blinding speed.
The sheer momentum twisted the surrounding air visibly.
Jingung.
There were countless ways to describe him.
The most common was "the First Generation Disciple who has mastered explosive energy."
His name had spread not just through Wudang but across the entire Central Plains martial world, making him a renowned figure.
Unlike Jinmyeong, who wandered freely, he was seen as the promising talent who would lead Wudang alongside him.
Stubborn yet upright and meticulous, the Taoist priest was acknowledged by all as the next Sect Leader.
He was the one the Second Generation Disciples admired and aspired to emulate most.
And now, his palm was aimed at Jinmu.
Yet...
"Tch, to think a senior among the brothers can't even control his temper."
How was he so relaxed?
The palm Jingung unleashed, transcending space, was the Cotton Palm, Wudang's representative palm technique.
Known to embody the essence of Wudang martial arts—flexible, swift, yet retaining softness—it unleashed thirty-six variations upon striking, overwhelming the foe.
Starting light, its power built relentlessly, culminating in the force to topple Mount Tai itself—the pinnacle of weighted hand techniques.
Ku-ku-ku-ku!
Jinmu didn't so much as twitch until the Cotton Palm's momentum surged right into his face.
"S-Senior Uncle!"
Cheongsang cried out urgently in the dire moment, but then Jinmu's hands traced a massive circle.
"Su-Supreme Purity Landscape?"
The Second Generation Disciples watching gasped in shock at the counter—nothing other than Supreme Purity Landscape.
Supreme Purity Landscape? Against Cotton Palm?
Was he trying to disperse it?
Impossible...
"...!"
It dispersed.
Not only did the continuous explosive flow shatter, but the immense preemptive energy pressing from all sides scattered from Jinmu's hands.
And Jinmu thrust his head into Jingung's guard.
"Like a wild boar with its tail on fire."
With a sneer, his hand shot out to seize Jingung's throat.
The motion was straight, concise, without waste.
But...
Jingung, hailed as the top among First Generation Disciples, was no pushover.
As he arched his back, his front foot snapped up toward Jinmu's jaw.
Crack!
The sharp impact made everyone assume Jinmu's defeat.
"Not bad."
But it was Jinmu's voice that rang out.
The instant Jingung's foot rose, Jinmu had smashed his elbow down on the toes and retreated, licking his lips.
"Urk."
Jingung, not Jinmu, bore the shock.
The elbow was one of the body's strongest bones.
And the toes had clashed against it.
No matter how trained, toes couldn't beat an elbow.
The intense pain snapped Jingung's dazed mind back.
"You...?"
Gaping at Jinmu from a distance, Jingung's shock was indescribable.
Jinmu, having created space with the exchange, held the advantage but didn't press.
There was no reason for Jinmu to fight Jingung here.
Not after learning that the top disciple was the one with the best reputation, not the strongest.
Jinhyeo had been a misunderstanding, Jinhye had tried to kill him—so lessons were needed.
But nothing to gain from Jingung.
And it was a hassle.
But Jingung was different.
The brat he'd dismissed as young.
The youngest brother he'd seen as reckless had this level of skill?
Dispersing his Cotton Palm with Supreme Purity Landscape alone was shocking enough, but the adept response just now was astounding.
When had he grown this much?
To so easily block his Cotton Palm at the explosive energy realm?
Did he truly have the skill to claim the title of Wudang's sword?
His mind reeled.
Jingung was a Wudang disciple too.
Unlike Jinhyeo, who dreamed of change, he believed Wudang's traditions and rules must be upheld.
But his love for Wudang and desire for its growth were no less.
That was why he aimed for top disciple.
To restore Wudang's past glory amid its decline and forge a stronger path forward.
"Hey, Senior Brother Jingung. Let's call it quits."
"......"
'Hey' to a senior brother?
Jinmu's speech was intolerable to the rigid Jingung.
The manners between brothers needed correcting.
But curiosity about his skill arose.
He wanted to test it.
How far did his junior's ability go?
Jinhyeo had said he was adept at unorthodox moves, right?
Intrigue grew.
His anger as Wudang's finest shifted to curiosity about Jinmu, then to a warrior's fighting spirit.
"Quit? Hmph! If we start, we see it through. Right?"
"......"
As Jingung readjusted his stance with a faintly excited look, Jinmu's expression twisted oddly.
'Look at this guy.'
He sobered up.
Jingung was an experienced warrior at the explosive energy realm.
Unlike Jinhyeo or Jinhye.
Jinmu had recently reached the realm of intent, but this wasn't life-or-death—it was a spar to subdue.
In brotherly spars, using lethal force was forbidden by Wudang.
Thus, a battle of minimal energy forms.
He regretted not crushing him with the Cotton Palm.
'Damn, what is this? I thought he was just a stuffy Taoist.'
That fierce palm had suggested as much.
But now, sobered, Jingung's stored preemptive energy felt profoundly calm.
And his eyes.
The eyes of one who enjoyed battle.
Such types were usually battle-hardened. And they grew through experience.
'Tch, headache. Since when do I think ahead...? Guess I have to crush him.'
Facing Jingung, Jinmu curled one lip and assumed a stance.
The first time since becoming Jinmu's body.
He took a proper stance.
"Excellent! So solid. To think the basic art Seven Stars Fist's stance could be this perfect!"
Jingung was genuinely impressed.
It was Wudang's basic fist art that Cheongu practiced, but Jinmu's version was entirely different.
No openings—a flawless stance.
"Gonna stand there gawking forever? If you're doing it, hurry up."
"Ha ha! I was so shocked I kept you waiting."
Jingung clenched his fist and stepped into Jinmu's half-range.
Jinmu smirked at his Infinite Mysterious Merit Fist stance.
"Won't draw your sword? Might give you even a slight edge."
"Brat. Good confidence. But using a sword bare-handed against a brother is against the rules. And this senior's fists aren't to be trifled with."
Idiot. Rules again?
To win, use every means. So rigid.
But Jingung's stance radiated undeniable presence.
Honest, unadorned.
One's energy reflected their nature.
Jingung's was upright.
Straight on, no probing, pressing Jinmu's entire body head-on.
'This guy's... a real Taoist. No, a true warrior.'
Jinmu felt a familiar aura from Jingung.
His master, Myeongjin.
Standing against Hyeokryeon Mugang before Purple Empyrean Palace, his image overlapped.
Even Tao cultivators could fall to human temptation and evil.
But not Myeongjin.
He begged nothing, staked his life on his path.
Thus admirable.
Thus, though he could have crushed Purple Empyrean Palace, Hyeokryeon Mugang spared Myeongjin and withdrew.
Jingung resembled him.
One of the rare few advancing unwaveringly on his path.
In this martial world.
But...
No mercy.
He just liked him a tiny bit.
Screeech.
Their toes slid as they inched forward, closing distance.
The moment their hand backs touched, divine light flashed in their eyes.
Papapak!
To the watching Second Generation Disciples, the movements were too fast to follow.
Only Cheongsang, who had recently grasped vital energy, vaguely chased their afterimages.
"Huh!"
The disciples turned to Cheongsang at his gasp.
Better to hear from him than miss the unseen clash.
But Cheongsang just gaped.
'Hm? Not bad?'
Even Jinmu, facing Jingung directly, was surprised.
Jingung couldn't match Jinmu's form comprehension or depth.
But he didn't panic.
Even allowing countless strikes from unorthodox attacks, he stuck to what he knew.
And utterly natural.
His offense flowed ceaselessly.
'But natural isn't always good.'
Jinmu, admiring the flow, suddenly halted.
'What!'
A split-second off-beat disrupted the seamless offense-defense, flustering Jingung.
The brief pause severed the attack's rhythm.
'Th-this!'
The momentary hitch at fist and foot ends broke the natural chain.
"Heh heh heh. I stole your rhythm, punk."
Jinmu's form bent like a ghost, slipping to Jingung's side.
"...!"
Shock—and Jinmu's hand struck below Jingung's ribs.
Crack!
Breath stopped.
Precise pressure point.
The energy thrust lifted his body, a wicked smile curling Jinmu's lips.
And then.
Bam! Papapapapak!
Fists and feet rained indiscriminately on Jingung's body.
"Gaaah!"
"Ugh..."
A muffled groan.
"Senior Uncle!"
Cheonggang, a Second Generation Disciple from Encounter Truth Hall who had come down with them, hurriedly supported Jingung's head.
"Water. Drink."
"Ugh."
With Cheonggang's help, Jingung barely sat up and swallowed the water painfully.
Only after some time did he regain his senses, asking blankly,
"Jinmu?"
"He set off."
"Huh, I was out a full day?"
"Yes."
"Sheesh."
Jingung had been beaten mercilessly by Jinmu and lost consciousness for a day.
His whole body throbbed fiercely.
Yet a smile crept across his face—not displeased.
"Perhaps... that kid really can pull it off alone."
"......"
Cheonggang couldn't comprehend Jingung's smile after such a thrashing.
"Even so, his mouth... I have to nag him into fixing that, at least."