Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: The Magician of the Muse
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"Isn't that... the swordsmanship from the Qingcheng Sect's manual?"
Han Ibi grinned as he spoke.
"As expected of you, brother. You recognize it properly."
"How could something like that..."
At that moment, Han Ibi's expression turned serious.
"Something like that? Come on, brother! We can talk about that later. Right now, everyone in the sect is in danger. We need to get up there fast."
Han Ibi pointed to the top of the guard post's watchtower.
Jong Ri-hyeok nodded.
"I know."
"You know?"
"Yeah. I was training around Self-Questioning Valley when I spotted those guys passing by. Their outfits... I figured they were intruders, so I followed them."
"Ah, so that's why you didn't show up for that important sect leader selection tournament?"
"Right. I was assessing the situation. Then you showed up just in time."
"Yeah. Anyway, thanks, brother. You saved my life."
"But those guys... They've been hiding over there blowing that weird flute nonstop. There seemed to be quite a few of them, so I was keeping watch."
Han Ibi shook his head.
"It's not just any flute. The Qingcheng Sect members and guests, poisoned by their aphrodisiac, are tearing into each other like wild dogs."
Jong Ri-hyeok looked stunned.
"What?"
Han Ibi pointed to the watchtower.
"That flute's melody is the culprit behind all this."
Without a backward glance, Jong Ri-hyeok dashed up to the watchtower.
"That hot temper of his..."
Han Ibi muttered to himself as he chased after Jong Ri-hyeok, climbing the stairs.
A moment later.
Jong Ri-hyeok stood tall, his back to them.
And in front of him, a middle-aged man.
A pristine white robe that contrasted sharply with the black-clad men.
A hauntingly melancholic flute melody.
Silver hair and sleeves fluttering in the wind.
Eyes steeped in sorrow... yet faintly cruel.
In modern terms, he was a "silver fox" handsome enough to turn heads.
In this era, more like an "immortal descended from the heavens."
In any case, Jong Ri-hyeok seemed momentarily dazed by the man's overwhelming presence.
Not that anyone could blame him... The man didn't look like a villain at all.
That was when it happened.
Whoosh!
A sharp sonic wave rang out.
Han Ibi had whipped out a dagger and hurled it.
But the middle-aged man didn't flinch.
The dagger flew straight for his solar plexus.
Then—
Clang!
A loud crash echoed.
The dagger flew back to its origin.
Han Ibi twisted away in shock, dodging it.
Thud!
The dagger embedded itself in the railing, quivering violently.
Han Ibi muttered.
"Huh? But why the 'clang' sound..."
And well it might.
The middle-aged man had swung his flute at the incoming dagger.
Its surface gleamed in the sunlight.
Only then did Han Ibi realize the flute was made of iron.
In a situation like this, it had to double as a weapon.
Countless wuxia novels featured such exotic arms, after all.
"Finally, that infernal flute has gone silent."
Han Ibi said.
He hoped the chaos in the Qingcheng Sect grounds had ended.
The middle-aged man replied.
"To describe my beautiful music in such terms... You're nothing but a barbaric savage."
A deep, resonant baritone.
The kind women would swoon over.
Han Ibi felt inexplicably irritated.
"Only a madman would enjoy that deranged racket."
The middle-aged man chuckled.
"Amusing. Very amusing."
Baring his teeth in a grin, he added,
"I'll admit it. I underestimated the crumbling Qingcheng Sect. Bringing only the young ones to give them some air was clearly my mistake."
Then Jong Ri-hyeok spoke.
"Who are you?"
The man scoffed.
"Hahaha. As if lowly worms like you would know my name?"
He raised the flute to his lips again, as if nothing had happened.
That was when—
Shing!
Jong Ri-hyeok gripped his sword and slashed.
The man reluctantly blocked with his flute.
Clang!
Jong Ri-hyeok staggered.
The man's internal energy was no joke.
Seizing the moment, the man swung the flute at Jong Ri-hyeok's head.
Jong Ri-hyeok barely parried with his sword.
Clang!
Sparks flew with the impact.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The man struck relentlessly without changing expression, while Jong Ri-hyeok struggled to defend.
A brutal combo!
No openings to escape.
One solid hit, and Jong Ri-hyeok was done for.
Han Ibi unleashed Zhongli Swift Leopard Step, yanked the dagger from the railing, and flung it again.
Clang!
The dagger flew off with a boom.
Annoyed by the repeated attacks, the man batted it off the watchtower for good.
"These flies won't stop buzzing."
But Jong Ri-hyeok slipped out during the distraction.
He stood beside Han Ibi.
His ragged breathing betrayed how dire the situation had been.
Then, text appeared before the tense Han Ibi.
'N-Now...? In this situation...?'
But humans are curious creatures.
Unable to suppress his rising curiosity, Han Ibi quickly selected 'Yes.'
A forbidden art created by Yeo Hwa-su, an elder of the North God Cult, which was expelled by the Demonic Cult over 150 years ago.
Yeo Hwa-su excelled in both martial arts and music, but the North God Cult's rejection of human culture in favor of divine worship left her few chances to display it.
She channeled her anguish into this martial feat, leaving behind the 'Sound Soul Formation.'
It is a martial art that is not a martial art, adaptable in myriad ways according to musical scores.
'Wh-What the hell is this...'
That was when it happened.
For the first time, the middle-aged man took the initiative, stepping forward.
His form glided smoothly ahead.
His feet didn't seem to move, giving an eerie sensation like a ghost approaching.
While the dazed Han Ibi hesitated, Jong Ri-hyeok charged first.
True to the protagonist of Dream of the Ant Snake, he was fearless.
If a bit prickly...
Clang!
Metal clashed violently in midair.
This moment was perfect for observing the foe.
Han Ibi could watch a bit longer and jump in if needed.
Amid the frenzy, Han Ibi watched intently, eyes ablaze.
Jong Ri-hyeok's movements embodied the essence of Qingcheng Sect arts—pure orthodox style.
The middle-aged man's, by contrast, seemed haphazard.
Perhaps because the flute wielded the properties of a staff.
Han Ibi knew little of staff techniques.
'Tch tch. All highbrow when blowing into it, but fights like a brute swinging a club.'
Jong Ri-hyeok held his own at first.
But as time passed, he was clearly losing ground.
The heavy iron flute's swings left him scrambling to block.
Yet Han Ibi sensed something off in the man's style.
'Weird. No forms to pinpoint. It looks reckless, so there should be gaps, but I can't find any.'
Was this the "formless form" from wuxia tales?
The kind enlightened masters teach protagonists during awakenings, amid flashy swordplay.
'But he's the bad guy, right?'
The man attacked tirelessly—downward, side to side, diagonal...
Brute force with unpredictable patterns...
Poor Jong Ri-hyeok struggled desperately to defend.
It was touch-and-go...
'Hmm... Should I jump in now? No, he's holding for the moment. Better to find the weakness.'
Han Ibi pondered, then activated his status window.
'Anything useful...'
He decided to activate Eagle's Eye Technique first.
Best for observation, after all.
His vision turned green, resolution maxed out.
'Huh... What's this?'
From diligent training, Eagle's Eye had reached Stage 3.
And a new sub-skill appeared.
'Tracking Eye Technique... Ah, got it! For pursuing fleeing enemies.'
Han Ibi activated Tracking Eye Technique.
A mouse-cursor-like tool appeared in his vision.
He targeted the middle-aged man without hesitation.
The tool followed, analyzing his movements.
It traced escape paths, then.
Faint yellow lines traced his directions.
Han Ibi observed closely.
Then, the familiar system voice.
'Huh? What's this? Anyway, yes!'
His retina became a screen, the system overlaying the man's trajectory in yellow.
Perfect for tracking foes.
Extremely user-friendly.
But...
'He's not fleeing, so useless right now.'
As Han Ibi switched back to normal Eagle's Eye in disappointment—
An idea flashed through his mind.
'Could this... work?'
He retargeted—from the man to his flute.
As if it were fleeing.
And...
'Whoa! It works.'
The system analyzed the flute's path.
Whether the creator intended this... who knew.
Meanwhile, Jong Ri-hyeok sweated buckets dodging the clubbing.
The man's arm tensed more, attacks fiercer.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The iron flute tore through space viciously.
To Jong Ri-hyeok, thunderous roars.
Then—
'Of course, yes!'
A different trajectory appeared.
Utterly unlike the man's body path.
The flute's was incomparably complex...
'Wh-What is this... No time for nonsense...'
Han Ibi tried to clear the graph from his vision.
'Now it's sink or swim—help Jong Ri-hyeok and take down the man.'
The graph had grown intricate.
But the data seemed useless.
'Damn it. Drop it.'
Then, a sudden thought struck Han Ibi.
'Wait. This... this is...'
(To be continued)