Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Where Did You Learn That Martial Art?
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“That specific martial art of yours—tell me, where exactly did you learn it?”
Jinmu stared at the old beggar, wondering what kind of completely baseless and absurd question this was supposed to be. A disciple of Wudang naturally learned his martial arts from within the hallowed halls of Wudang itself; where else in the world would a righteous priest be expected to learn his craft? In his past life as a conqueror, he would have likely responded by grabbing Yang Sobang by his matted hair and demanding an apology for the insolence, but now, wearing the skin of a humble Wudang disciple, he merely asked back with a tone of polite confusion.
“What martial art are you referring to, Elder? My techniques are all from the sect's curriculum,” Jinmu replied, carefully maintaining a genuinely puzzled expression on his face.
In truth, he was not entirely faking his bewilderment, for he honestly could not understand the accusation Yang Sobang was leveling against him. Ever since his rebirth into this teenage body, Jinmu had never once utilized any of his former unorthodox martial arts in public, knowing that while he could master such techniques in an instant, they would be utterly useless due to the pure Six Yang Divine Art energy currently rooted in his physical form. Martial arts founded on internal energy could not unleash their true potential if they were fueled by a conflicting source of power; thus, the current Jinmu was limited to techniques that harmonized with righteous energy.
“Brat, do not play games with me; the technique you displayed is definitely theirs,” Yang Sobang insisted, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register.
Jinmu remained silent, for he truly had no idea what the man meant by "theirs," and he noticed that Myeongchung and Jingung looked just as baffled by the cryptic statement as he was.
“Tch!” Yang Sobang clicked his tongue in a fit of annoyance and casually flicked his hand through the air, creating a sharp, explosive bursting sound that echoed through the room as his palm struck nothing but the void.
“Huh?” Jinmu’s eyes widened slightly in genuine recognition, for the palm strike the old man had just demonstrated was perfect—it matched exactly the technique he had seen performed by a mysterious old man at the Moonless Pavilion.
“How do you know that specific technique, Elder?” Jinmu asked, his curiosity finally piqued.
Yang Sobang bellowed sharply in response, “As I expected, you little brat! You are indeed connected to them!”
Jinmu sighed and proceeded to explain in meticulous detail his previous encounter at the Moonless Pavilion during his visit to the Dangang District, claiming that he had merely seen the move once and attempted to imitate its flow.
“You expect me to believe that you just imitated a technique of that complexity after seeing it a single time?” Yang Sobang asked, his glare intensifying as he looked for any shred of a lie in the boy’s eyes.
What the Elder was asking about was the legendary Inchless Force, a technique used by a secretive group whose martial trajectory was completely different from any style found in the Central Plains. Even a master of Yang Sobang’s caliber had taken three full years of dedicated practice just to produce a reasonable imitation of it, yet this young priest claimed to have picked it up as a parlor trick.
“Fine! I will check for myself whether you are a liar or a once-in-a-thousand-years genius!” Yang Sobang shouted as a tremendous energy surged from his body and his hand shot toward Jinmu at a blinding speed that left the other Taoists unable to even react.
Jinmu furrowed his brow deeply as the palm aimed straight for his heart, and he instinctively tried to block the path with the Supreme Purity Stream, only to find the old man’s hand vanishing and reappearing an inch from his chest.
‘This damn beggar bastard is using the Shattering Heart Grasp!’ Jinmu realized, recognizing the Beggar Clan’s secret technique from his past experiences. It was a murderous, formless art that became more tenacious the more force an opponent used to resist it.
Realizing that his current power was insufficient to stop the strike head-on, Jinmu swiftly withdrew his initial defense and cupped his hands around the incoming energy as if he were gently grasping a large ball, utilizing the core foundation of Wudang’s Taiji forms: the Twisting Silk Vigor.
He relaxed his muscles to harmonize his own energy with the flow of the grasp, and at the exact moment the rotation reached its peak, he twisted in reverse with every ounce of his strength to scatter the energy into the air.
Screech! Boom!
The energy rotated in reverse and dissipated, yet Jinmu could not fully negate the physical impact of the palm, and his body was flung backward across the room until he crashed into the far corner with a sickening crack.
Myeongchung and Jingung hurriedly stepped between the two to block any further assault, but Yang Sobang simply stood there staring down at his own hand in a state of utter fluster. He had not intended to kill the boy, but he had calibrated the force to knock him down decisively; instead, Jinmu had somehow managed to disperse the lethal energy of his strike.
“Ugh, what the hell was that for? Are you trying to kill a junior of the alliance?” Jinmu complained as he brushed the dust from his robes and stood up, showing no outward signs of having taken a life-threatening hit.
“You brat... how did you manage to do that?” Yang Sobang asked, his voice shaking with a shock that he could not hide.
“Even if you are a martial arts elder of high standing, striking a disciple without warning is a bit much, don’t you think? You are acting like a back-alley thug,” Jinmu scolded, stoking the fires of his own feigned indignation.
Yang Sobang, desperate for confirmation, demanded to know if Jinmu could actually imitate the Shattering Heart Grasp he had just witnessed, threatening to lock him in the alliance’s prison if he failed to prove his words.
“Fine, if that is what it takes to clear your suspicions, then bring it on,” Jinmu challenged, much to the horror of his fellow Taoists who believed he was walking straight into his doom.
Jinmu already possessed a deep understanding of the technique from his previous life, and he found it far easier to replicate than the Inchless Force; as he began to move his hands in a rhythmic, vanishing flow, the color drained from the Elder’s face.
“Shall we begin?” Jinmu asked with a wicked grin before his body shot low across the floor like a hunting predator, his palm surging toward Yang Sobang’s heart with a perfect execution of the secret grasp.
The Elder was forced to stomp the floor and retreat swiftly, but Jinmu’s palm vanished and reappeared to target his side instead, adapting the technique on the fly with a terrifying level of martial intuition.
Catching the master off guard, Jinmu’s hand flew toward the old man’s face, grazing his cheek with a stinging pain that Yang Sobang had not felt in decades. In a moment of pure survival instinct, the Elder’s fist lashed out and struck Jinmu squarely on the shoulder blade.
Thud! Crash!
Jinmu’s body tumbled across the floor, and as Myeongchung rushed to support him, the boy vomited a mouthful of dark, congealed blood while bent over in apparent agony.
Jingung glared at the Elder with an accusatory fury, looking ready to draw his sword and defend his junior’s honor regardless of the consequences. Yang Sobang, however, was paralyzed by guilt and confusion, realizing that he had just instinctively countered a young priest as if the boy were a life-threatening rival.
“Hoo, hoo... Elder, is that enough proof for you now?” Jinmu asked through ragged breaths, his chin stained with blood.
Yang Sobang nodded sheepishly, his suspicions cleared but his pride utterly shattered as he realized he had been toyed with by a man fifty years his junior. Jinmu insisted on going to rest, claiming his internal injuries were severe, leaving the Elder to stare at the bloodied floor in a state of profound embarrassment.
As he was supported out of the room by Jingung, Jinmu smirked inwardly, thinking of the old man as a newly born "beggar slave" who was now deeply in his debt. He had taken the hit on purpose and coughed up fake blood just to secure an ally within the high ranks of the Justice Alliance, and he planned to squeeze every last drop of usefulness out of the old master before he was finished with him.