Chapter 98
Chapter 98
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: A Beat Faster
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The core of the masked man's martial arts was striking one beat faster.
By initiating before the opponent's attack and disrupting their flow, he closed the gap between them.
Because if an enemy's strike landed before one's internal energy could fully manifest, they couldn't unleash their full power.
That was the fearsome aspect of the Traceless Art, a technique that omitted preparatory movements. It was also why Deng Yeoping hadn't subdued them in a single breath by the riverside near Xiangyang Province.
However, with the same method, the one with stronger internal energy prevailed, and the one with superior application of forms won out.
The masked man was merely a mid-tier martial artist. He could never overcome Jinmu's experience from wandering battlefields for eighty years and his monstrous reserves of internal energy.
"Urgh."
The masked man, beaten to a pulp and sent flying, staggered to his feet.
"Damn bastard, you've got some tough hide."
No way.
Jinmu had only hit him that hard. If he'd intended to kill from the start, the man would have died a hundred times over.
"Well, shall we end this now?"
Baek Pyo watched the scene as if it were natural, then felt a fresh wave of astonishment. Baek Yeorin couldn't close her gaping mouth. Hadn't they been such formidable foes? Yet Jinmu handled them like children.
"This can't be!"
The masked man gnashed his teeth and thrust his sword at the approaching Jinmu. Jinmu effortlessly dodged the blade tip and crushed the man's forearm from below.
Kwak!
"Kugh!"
It wasn't just dislocated—his arm bone snapped in reverse.
It dangled limply, as if that wasn't enough.
The retreating masked man grimaced in pain and glared at Jinmu.
"Urgh... How do you know the Traceless Art? How can you wield it so proficiently?!"
"Learned it from a grateful old monster."
"Old monster? You don't mean Dae Rang?"
Dae Rang?
Hoo? He spilled it before I even started interrogating him?
"No. Dae Rang would never teach the Traceless Art to the Central Plains."
"That's just what you think."
"......"
At Jinmu's sarcasm, the masked man's eyes trembled like a flag whipping in a fierce wind.
An unbeatable foe. One who had crushed even the slimmest chance of victory.
As he said, Dae Rang wouldn't pass on his arts. The man hated Central Plains martial artists more than anyone.
But the result was clear. This wasn't an opponent he could beat. And unbeatable meant inescapable.
The masked man glanced at his fallen subordinates.
Ignorant fools. Nothing useful could be gleaned from them.
But he was different.
If he, the link to their organization, were captured, it could spell big trouble.
He'd trained to endure torture in case of capture, but human resolve was unpredictable.
In the end, only one choice remained.
The masked man reversed his grip on his sword with his good arm.
Kill the man, seal the lips.
No safer way to guard a secret. He thrust the blade toward his own heart.
But the sword wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he tried, it refused to move. It should've been as simple as pulling and falling.
"Hey!"
A voice rang out.
And there, suddenly close, was a man crumpling the sword tip barehanded.
"You vicious bastard. Not silencing witnesses, but suicide to seal your own mouth?"
"......!"
When did he move?
He'd resolved to die and flipped the sword in an instant.
Yet...
"You've got something in your mouth too, huh? Off to die."
Kwak.
Jinmu seized the masked man's jaw with his other hand.
Crack.
The force dislocated his jaw, leaving it dangling.
The sword was blocked, and he couldn't bite down on the poison pellet between his teeth or sever his tongue.
And in his eyes reflected Jinmu's cruel face.
"Sleep for now."
Bam!
Jinmu's fist slammed into his abdomen. The shock rippled backward, nearly shattering his spine, and intense pain that induced vomiting clouded his mind.
Vicious bastard.
There were simpler ways, like pressure points...
Thud.
The masked man toppled forward.
Jinmu peeled off the mask and inspected his mouth.
A tiny silk thread. Tied to a poison pouch the size of a fingernail.
"What kind of viper are you? Poison pouch in your mouth?"
Jinmu tossed the pouch to the ground with a incredulous look.
Sizzle.
The burst poison blackened the soil and belched acrid smoke, making Jinmu grimace.
Strong enough to burn dirt—it would've melted his mouth, esophagus, and organs the instant it spread.
Far more agonizing than a sword death.
"Idiot must've been scared. If you'd bitten the poison first, I couldn't have stopped you."
Jinmu chuckled and stood.
"Hey, Baek Pyo."
"......Yes! Benefactor!"
"Bind this one so he can't try anything when he wakes, and check the others."
His voice was far too casual for someone who'd just fought a brutal battle.
Thanks to Jinmu's intervention, the fight ended anticlimactically.
But that's how absolutes worked.
They weren't a supreme sect spanning the Central Plains like the Nine Great Sects or Five Great Clans—just the Baek Clan Manor and Paeryeokdang vying for dominance in Guangxi's Jilin.
If Jinmu willed it, he could slaughter them all before the day ended.
But whether the fight was fierce or lackluster didn't matter.
The Baek Clan Manor was safe, and his sister unharmed.
Paeryeokdang?
They'd never act again. Jinmu had already shattered their will to fight.
Whatever plot the masked men had brewed, the war between Baek Clan Manor and Paeryeokdang was effectively over.
"Hey, you, the foul-tempered miss. You okay?"
"Yes? Y-Yes......"
"Foul-tempered" grated, but who could blame him now?
"Oh, and these bastards seemed after something. Know what it was?"
At Jinmu's words, Baek Pyo—who'd ordered the Baek Clan warriors to bind the masked men and seal their acupoints to prevent waking—glanced at Baek Yeorin.
The sword the Baek Clan Manor possessed. That was the only thing worth targeting.
"This is it."
Baek Yeorin, already knowing full well, straightened her clothes and offered it to Jinmu.
The shortsword that had hung at her neck.
"They called it Bloodless."
"Bloodless?"
Jinmu tilted his head at the name.
No blood?
No matter how he racked his brain, he'd never heard of it.
Then again, the Central Plains were vast. The martial world had more hidden experts living in seclusion than famous ones.
One couldn't know every spirit herb scattered across mountains and rivers, nor every secret manual hidden away.
In a world teeming with legends, it was stranger to know everything one heard.
"Got any lore or history on it?"
"Not really. We've only ever known it as the heirloom passed down to each clan lord."
"......"
Uh, right. Very impressive.
An heirloom handed down generations, yet no one knew its origins? Never bothered to investigate? It might hide some secret...
"Here."
Jinmu took the offered shortsword and tugged with force.
"It won't come out. We've tried infusing qi, examining the patterns, even called in mechanism experts."
So, they'd made efforts.
Jinmu nodded vaguely and scrutinized the shortsword closely, but it remained a mystery.
A sword that wouldn't draw.
Hence Bloodless? No hole when drawn?
"Why target something like this?"
Jinmu squinted at the shortsword, Bloodless.
Damn, just hurts my eyes. Complicates my head.
"Damn it. These bastards are annoyingly complicated."
Jinmu grumbled.
"Mind if I hold onto this for now?"
"......Pardon?"
Baek Yeorin looked at Jinmu with a puzzled expression.
She didn't know how to respond.
A request from the benefactor who saved the clan. And the shortsword in his hand was merely a symbol.
But an heirloom passed down generations...
"If you need it, please keep it safe, Benefactor."
Baek Pyo answered for her.
"Brother?"
"Don't attach meaning to objects."
"......"
"What represents the lord of Baek Clan Manor isn't some item. It's the people who live and protect it."
"......"
Baek Yeorin sighed deeply and nodded at Baek Pyo's words.
"Well, that settles it."
Jinmu grinned.
Due to an unexpected incident, Jinmu ended up staying at Baek Clan Manor, propping his chin on the table as he stared at the shortsword.
He'd scoured all the records left in the manor, but learned nothing.
He'd heard Mok In-gyeom had woken, but interrogation wasn't possible yet.
Well-trained enough to attempt suicide under torture, they wouldn't crack easily.
He had to uncover something. Something to rattle them and create leverage.
Sizzle.
Baek Pyo, bandages wrapping his body from last night's wounds, placed grilled meat from the stone plate before Jinmu.
He should rest if it hurt, but if he insisted, Jinmu wouldn't stop him.
"Please eat."
"Huh? Oh. Sure."
As Jinmu reached for chopsticks, Baek Pyo offered some to Baek Yeorin, who sat demurely in the corner waiting.
"You eat too."
"Yes."
Baek Yeorin brought the meat to her mouth at his urging.
"......!"
Her eyes widened as she alternated glances between Baek Pyo and the meat.
"How is it?"
"D-Delicious......"
"Good."
Baek Pyo beamed at her response.
It was delicious. Incredibly so, shockingly good.
Ten years.
What kind of life had her brother lived?
A chef?
No way. The martial arts he'd displayed last night weren't honed in a day or two. He'd surely picked them up surviving somewhere on the edge of life and death.
And what connection did he have with the master who'd come with him? Her brother had called him "Benefactor" even before the clan folk did.
Come to think of it, she didn't even know his name.
Moreover, his rough speech and manners. Coarse and rude.
p>
Treating everyone casually, acting on whims.
He suited the unorthodox more than the orthodox.
Baek Yeorin suddenly grew curious about the master named Jinmu.
"Brother."
"Yeah?"
"What background does the Benefactor have?"
Baek Yeorin whispered cautiously to Baek Pyo.
"No idea. Not his name, not his origins."
"......Pardon?"
"Doesn't matter. He saved me, and now he's saved our clan."
"......"
"His background is irrelevant. To me, he's the Benefactor. One whose grace I couldn't repay in a lifetime."
"......"
Baek Pyo gazed at Baek Yeorin, her face slightly stiff and lips pressed shut.
"But I've never seen the Benefactor walk an unjust path."
"Ah."
Baek Yeorin let out a soft exclamation.
"Yeorin, you are the master of the clan."
"No. Now that you've returned, Brother..."
That was her true heart.
At first, she'd despised her changed brother, but he still cared for and cherished the clan.
Besides, his storm-like prowess against the masked men surpassed anyone in the clan. He should inherit it, naturally.
"Yeorin, once Baek Clan Manor regains its footing as Jilin's hegemon, I plan to set off on a long journey."
"What do you mean?"
"It must be so. I've cultivated unorthodox internal arts. It doesn't suit the Baek Clan lord. You've been the master for ten years, and you must remain so."
"......"
"But remember this. What a clan master must keep in mind is to see clearly and act decisively. Don't assume a black exterior means a black heart. No need for prejudice against the unorthodox. Sometimes, they are more righteous than the orthodox."
At Baek Pyo's words, Jinmu briefly lifted his gaze from the shortsword.
He didn't know what nonsense it was, but the rude punk suddenly spoke like flowing spring water.
Because it's his sister?
"People easily misjudge by appearances. The Benefactor may be unorthodox. But see the truth. In saving our clan, was there any flaw? Even against those vile Paeryeokdang warriors, he never drew his sword first. It's merely his outward demeanor..."
"I'm from Wudang."
"Orthodox... Pardon?"
Baek Pyo and Baek Yeorin whipped their heads toward him at Jinmu's languid remark.
Jinmu, chin propped, popped a piece of meat into his mouth and chewed as he spoke.