Chapter 87
Chapter 87
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: The World's Best Butcher
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His eyes, tinged with an eerie and unnatural light, gleamed with a sharp, predatory focus as he prepared to demonstrate his craft.
Sss.
The movement was incredibly fast, a ruthless stroke of the blade that defied the typical conventions of swordsmanship.
It was only fitting to call it a relentless and heartless display, for the flow of the blade was so remarkably natural that a spectator could not distinguish where the motion began or where it reached its end.
The sword darted in and out with a series of brief, surgical strikes, slicing between skin and muscle in a mere instant, leaving the integrity of the anatomy behind.
"……Ah!"
Jinmu, who had been watching the performance with rapt attention, could not help but let out a spontaneous exclamation of admiration as he clapped his hands in genuine delight.
The more he watched the process, the more deeply he was impressed by the sheer utility and precision of the swordsmanship being displayed before him.
Chachachacha!
The skin of the beast peeled away as if it were merely shedding a layer of old clothes, and the underlying flesh was sliced neatly by section into perfect, uniform pieces.
Thinly cut strips of fresh meat were neatly arranged and presented before Jinmu with the flair of a master artisan.
"Wow!"
Jinmu reached for his chopsticks with hands that actually trembled in anticipation of the fresh, vibrant red sight laid out before him.
Tzup. Tzup.
As he tasted the first morsel, Jinmu's pupils quivered faintly with a shock of culinary realization.
Was this truly the same wild boar meat he had always grilled and eaten over a campfire with Cheongsang and Cheongu during their travels?
The meat retained its primal bloodiness, yet the grain of the muscle was alive and vibrant in every cut, making its flavor and texture surpass any other dish he had ever experienced in the Central Plains.
"Amazing! This is truly incredible!"
Jinmu could not hide his astonished gaze as he cried out in awe, feeling as if figurative fireworks were exploding in his head with every chew.
"Kekeke."
An eerie, grating chuckle vibrated through the air as Baekpyo laughed, baring his cruel fangs at Jinmu's praise while he casually licked the blood off the blade with his tongue.
After absorbing the wild boar's latent energy with his specialized blood absorption technique, he had sliced its flesh with a mastery that transformed ordinary game meat into the finest delicacy under the heavens.
He had achieved this without even the use of a grill, presenting a flavor that challenged everything Jinmu knew about the taste of raw meat.
Jinmu felt a twinge of internal guilt for ever doubting the man, especially since Baekpyo had suggested with such a wicked expression that he would serve the meat himself.
This guy was the real deal, for his swordsmanship was unparalleled under the heavens and possessed a quality that no ordinary martial artist could ever hope to imitate.
He was truly... the world's greatest butcher.
Jinmu raised both of his thumbs in an impressed gesture of absolute approval.
"Kekeke."
While the wickedly grating laughter was still somewhat unsettling to his ears, Jinmu found that he no longer minded the man's eccentricities.
Usually, the butcher put on airs by talking about the prestigious orthodox sects and their dignified ways, but once he engaged his blood absorption technique, his true, sinister nature emerged.
His habit of swinging a lethal knife with such reckless abandon was normally a problem, but in this context, it was a miracle of service.
At this rate, Jinmu felt he could consume an entire wild boar by himself, and he affirmed to himself that bringing this man along on the journey had been the best decision he had made in a long time.
"How do you find the meal, my benefactor?"
How was it? Jinmu felt as though tears were on the verge of falling from the sheer emotional impact of the meal.
"Kekeke, it is the primary merit of our school's Scattered Wind Blade technique; it follows the natural grain of the target so perfectly that enemies only realize they have been cut long after they have lost their lives."
There was no practical need for the man to boast while exuding such a chilling aura of murderous intent, but Jinmu was willing to give credit where it was due.
"Kekeke, now prepare yourself for the next course."
Baekpyo placed a thick piece of the meat onto a pre-heated stone he had prepared nearby.
Chiik!
The surface of the meat cooked in an instant, and a rich, savory aroma spread through the clearing, causing Jinmu to swallow his saliva involuntarily.
"……Ah!"
Watching the bubbling meat juices, Jinmu found he could not hold back any longer, reaching out with his chopsticks just as a gruff voice interrupted the moment.
"Ha, what do we have here?" the voice asked from the edge of the trees.
"I smelled the scent of delicious grilling meat spreading through the woods, and it turns out these bastards are boldly holding a barbecue in our front yard without our permission!"
Five men appeared from the shadows, wearing crudely stitched beast hides for clothes—the classic look of the bandits commonly known as green foresters.
Jinmu was annoyed by the timing; it seemed like every mountain ridge in the Central Plains was crawling with these pathetic bandit packs.
"Boss, shouldn't we collect a meat tax from these travelers?"
"Of course we should; everything on this mountain belongs to us, including their lunch."
It was a bountiful harvest of nonsense, and Jinmu had no patience for such trash when there was meat cooking right in front of his eyes.
"Hey, is that a bottle of booze in your hand?" Jinmu asked, his eyes lighting up as he noticed the pottery bottle one of the bandits was carrying.
"……Uh, yes?" the bandit replied, caught off guard by the traveler's brazen tone.
A satisfied smile formed on Jinmu's lips, for as the saying goes, meat is better with liquor, and these men were clearly asking to be relieved of their burdens.
"You are bandits, correct? The bad guys?"
"……."
"Baekpyo."
"Yes, benefactor!"
Before Jinmu could even finish his call, Baekpyo gripped the knife he had been using for the meat, his wicked eyes oozing a murderous intent that would have frozen the blood of a lesser man.
"Rip them apart," Jinmu commanded.
Pang!
With permission granted, Baekpyo pounced on the bandits like a bloodthirsty beast, moving with such ferocity that he seemed more like a fiend than a human.
If he were not stopped, he would surely separate their bones from their flesh as efficiently as he had with the wild boar.
"Try not to kill them all……," Jinmu added, though he did not even bother to look away from his meal as he spoke.
"It would be nice to have someone to feed the scraps to later. I wonder if my nephews are worried about me right now?"
Jinmu thought of Cheongsang and Cheongu, imagining that the Dragon-Phoenix Conference must have already begun.
He hoped they weren't worrying, for their martial uncle was currently enjoying fantastic meat, disciplining some unfortunate bandits, and having a grand time.
It was a perfect evening for Jinmu, a feast of vitality for Baekpyo, and a truly unlucky day for the bandits.
Ttwiririk! Tang!
A sharply extended sword clashed against its target's counter-move and bounced off with a metallic ring.
"Fail!"
The examiner's sharp, loud shout caused the examinee's face to turn pitiful as his shoulders slumped in defeat.
The second round of the Dragon-Phoenix Conference had officially begun, and since it was an overall qualifying round, the events had proceeded for two days without rest.
Those who had passed the initial stages early had finished their breaks and were now facing the combat division exams.
"Tsk tsk, how is the utilization of form this poor among the youth? At this level, your situation is hopeless," the head instructor, Han Taeseok, scowled.
The qualifying round was designed to select those who were solid in the basics of inner power, formations, and foundational knowledge, yet half of the participants had already been eliminated.
The riffraff had been filtered out, but Han Taeseok was still irritated by the lack of adeptness in the remaining candidates.
"Hey, head instructor," another instructor, Jang Palssang, said as he slid a profile onto the desk.
"What is this?"
"It is the profile of a Wudang disciple."
"Wudang? And? What about it?"
"Look at his scores, sir……."
Han Taeseok snatched the profile and read the name: Cheongu, a Second Generation Disciple of Wudang.
Basic formations: Fail. Foundational knowledge: Fail.
"What the hell is this nonsense? How did this idiot even make it to the combat phase? Is he the disciple of a Sect Leader or from a powerful family?"
It was absurd to Han Taeseok that someone who failed two of the three exams was allowed to continue.
"Instructor Nam Rohwan kept begging us to let him take the combat exam as a special case because his inner power is apparently top-notch," Jang Palssang explained.
"Top-notch? According to who?"
"He supposedly punched right through the iron plate during the inner power qualifying round."
"……."
Han Taeseok pondered the information with a surprised look. "Fine then. Bring him forward immediately."
Moments later, Jang Palssang returned with three young warriors: the chubby and exhausted-looking Cheongu, followed by Cheongsang and Zhuge Sansan.
"Cheer up, Cheongu; a special exam is still a chance to prove yourself," Zhuge Sansan said, patting the boy's shoulder in comfort.
"Tsk, how can you be so dim-witted? How could you slack on your studies to the point of failing the knowledge exam? You are tarnishing our martial uncle's name," Cheongsang scolded coldly.
Han Taeseok glared at the trio and decided he would test all three of them personally, since the other instructors were busy.
"Are you the special case known as Cheongu?" the head instructor asked.
"Yes... I am Cheongu of Wudang," the boy replied, his voice completely drained of energy.
He looked miserable being labeled a "special case," and the surrounding gazes of the other examinees were fixed on him, eager to see the boy who had supposedly punched through iron.
"How long do you intend to wear that funeral face?" Cheongsang barked. "Are you planning to waste the martial uncle's teachings? Are you too ashamed to face him again?"
"……."
"Do not shrink back. Give this everything you have!"
At the harsh encouragement, Cheongu clenched his fists and stepped before the head instructor. He knew that if he failed now, he would have no face to show Jinmu, and he would likely be beaten half to death for his failure.
As Cheongu took his stance, Han Taeseok sighed, noting that the boy's waddling approach resembled a rolling ball more than a martial artist.
"This is a special exam at the request of Instructor Nam Rohwan," Han Taeseok stated. "Since you do not meet the standard qualifications, I will check your skills personally to avoid any misunderstandings. Prepare yourself."
"Yes, sir!" Cheongu replied, his eyes narrowing as he gripped his fists.
"The test is simple: snatch the red cord at my waist using your best technique."
"I will use Wudang's Seven Stars Fist," Cheongu announced.
Han Taeseok's face twitched. The Seven Stars Fist was a famous but basic technique—the very foundation of Wudang's fist arts. To master only that and no advanced arts seemed like proof that the boy was unprepared.
The onlookers felt the same disappointment, assuming the boy had merely boosted his inner power hastily with some spirit pill scraps.
"Show me what you can do," Han Taeseok said, placing one hand behind his back as a sign of the skill gap between them.
Cheongu lightly exhaled and assumed the first form of the technique.
Then, suddenly, he moved.
Pang!
The moment his back foot powerfully pushed off the ground, the air seemed to burst, and Cheongu's body shot toward the head instructor in a blur of speed.
'What! He is so fast!' Han Taeseok thought, his eyes widening in shock.