Chapter 130: It’s a Failure! (3)
Chapter 130: It’s a Failure! (3)
Sword Flight Art.
To be honest, it wasn't exactly Patrick’s specialty.
In fact, it was a technique that sparked quite a bit of controversy even back in the Martial World.
Those who highly valued and pursued the Sword Flight Art were typically Taoist sword sects, such as the Wudang or Mount Hua Sects.
There was a legend about Lü Dongbin, one of the Eight Immortals of China, who attained the Tao through the sword and ascended to heaven. According to the tales, he traveled across the world riding atop a single blade.
Perhaps they wanted to emulate him?
Taoist sects like Wudang, Mount Hua, and Kunlun placed the Sword Flight Art on a pedestal, obsessing over it to a significant degree.
On the other hand, there were those who opposed it.
The Namgung Clan and the Diancang Sect criticized the Sword Flight Art as the height of inefficiency. They argued that its power was lacking compared to the sheer amount of internal energy it consumed. Furthermore, they claimed that a swordsman letting go of their sword was a fatal weakness, dismissing the technique as nothing more than a hollow, flashy skill.
Thus, the Sword Flight Art remained a subject of much debate.
Among masters who knew their way around a blade, it was incredibly common to see arguments break out over its practical application in real combat.
"Come to think of it, I took part in that debate once myself..."
Patrick’s memories drifted back to a distant, hazy past.
* * *
It happened during the 100th birthday celebration of a Murim Alliance elder whose name he couldn't quite recall.
Jincheon, the Radiant Dragon Hero, had attended as the representative of the Twin Dragon Sect and in his capacity as a Chief Inspector of the Murim Alliance. And then...
‘Let’s stay quiet. Just stay quiet...’
Jincheon sat in a corner, quietly sipping his wine.
It was uncharacteristic behavior for him, but there was a reason for it.
‘Master pleaded with me. I have to hold it in this time.’
Not long ago, some old geezer from the Shaolin Temple had started nagging him, so Jincheon had grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the floor of the Great Buddha Hall.
Upon hearing the news, his Master nearly fainted and begged him—implored him—to please, for the love of god, stay quiet this time.
So, for once, Jincheon was actually behaving.
He planned to just quietly enjoy the free food and drinks before heading home.
The others, though baffled as to why that madman was acting so civil, decided to leave him be as long as he stayed peaceful.
However, just as the banquet was reaching its peak...
Two men, clearly intoxicated, approached Jincheon as he sat in his corner.
[Radiant Dragon Hero. How do you evaluate the Sword Flight Art?]
[Huh? What?]
The horse-nosed Taoist in front of him was, if he remembered correctly, Elder Song Ja-bae of the Wudang Sect.
[A master of the sword like yourself must know. The Sword Flight Art is the ultimate pinnacle of martial studies, is it not?]
[Eh?]
The muscular man standing next to him, dressed in fine silks, was undoubtedly an elder of the Namgung Clan. Jincheon remembered him as the man they called the "Azure Sky Sword" or something like that.
Seriously, why were these guys suddenly spouting nonsense at a man who was just minding his own business and drinking?
[Ho ho ho. It seems True Being Song-heo has yet to wake from his delusions. The Sword Flight Art is nothing more than a spectacle that devours internal energy like a starving beast.]
[Hah?]
Patrick wondered why these old farts were suddenly acting like this. Regardless of his confusion, the two were arguing as if this were the most serious topic in the world.
[A spectacle? Are you quite finished, Azure Sky Sword Emperor?]
[Did I strike a nerve?]
[Ho ho ho. Is that something the Namgung Clan, who uses their swords like axes, should be saying?]
[Like axes?]
[A sword style more tyrannical than the saber techniques of the Hebe Peng Family. Tsk tsk, you lot act more like mountain bandits than a prestigious Great Family...]
[Ho ho ho. You’re crossing the line quite easily, True Being Song-heo.]
Even the lofty elders of the Namgung Clan and the Wudang Sect were no different from common nuisances once they got drunk.
Jincheon contemplated for a moment what to do with these geezers.
In such situations, there were usually three options.
‘Should I punch them? Kick them? Or just blast them away?’
The choices were truly fantastic.
However, remembering his Master’s desperate plea, he let out a sigh. Instead, he decided to share his honest philosophy on the sword for once.
[I do not enjoy using the Sword Flight Art.]
At those words, the Namgung elder burst into a wide grin, while the Wudang Taoist furrowed his brows.
[Hahaha! You see?]
[Grrr. Do you not understand the profound mysteries of the sword?]
However, their expressions soured simultaneously at Jincheon’s following words.
[There’s no feel to the strike, is there?]
At Jincheon’s answer, both men’s faces contorted in fury.
[What kind of vulgar nonsense is that?! Is that something a Great Hero of the Orthodox Faction should say?]
[Hooo. How lamentable! How could such a man rise to the position of Chief Inspector in the Murim Alliance? "Feel of the strike"? Tsk tsk, how violent. How savage... Gack!]
The Wudang elder was sent flying backward by a single punch.
Then, Jincheon, the Radiant Dragon Hero, kicked his table aside and stood up, shouting.
[Oh, come on! You bastards ask for a serious answer and then start talking shit?!]
Well, in the end, the place turned into a complete mess.
* * *
‘Looking back, they’re all fond memories.’
Patrick nodded to himself.
Regardless, Patrick wasn't one to use the Sword Flight Art often. He could count the number of times he’d used it in real combat on one hand.
But that was simply a matter of choice; it didn't mean he couldn't do it.
While the Heart-Controlling Sword or the Eye-Controlling Sword might be a stretch for now, the Hand-Controlling Sword—where one guides the blade with hand gestures—was well within his capabilities.
And that was exactly what had proven useful here.
"Heh heh heh. I guess even dog shit can be used as medicine if you need it enough."
Even a supreme martial principle like the Sword Flight Art was treated as nothing more than "dog shit" by Patrick.
It was then...
"Urgh... How did you do that just now?"
Riman, who had crashed to the ground after being struck by the flying sword, staggered to his feet.
"Oh, you're sturdier than I thought."
‘If I knew he was this tough, I would’ve hit him harder.’
Since it wasn't his specialty, he’d struggled a bit with the power control. Still, Riman looked remarkably intact for someone who had been hit by a sword saturated with Aura.
"Controlling a sword freely in mid-air... How is that possible?"
"Curious?"
At Patrick’s question, Riman reflexively nodded, forgetting for a moment that they were in the middle of a match.
Patrick gave him a bright smile and held out his hand.
"If you're curious, that'll be 5 gold."
"..."
"..."
A cold silence fell over the arena.
"That crazy bastard."
"He really doesn't care about the time or place, does he?"
"I want to go home."
Whenever a madman did something bizarre, it was always the sane people on his side who had to endure the embarrassment.
Riman remained silent for a moment before pushing up his glasses.
"I see. You have no intention of telling me."
"No, I said I’d tell you if you gave me 5 gold."
"It is only natural not to carelessly reveal the results of one's research."
"Is 5 gold really too much for you?"
"However, I also have the results of my own research, which are no less significant than yours. I shall show them to you."
"Ho... So you're just going to ignore me, then?"
Being ignored while speaking was the thirteenth thing Patrick hated most in the world.
As Patrick’s blood pressure began to rise, Riman started doing something strange.
"Ignil, Lagios, Turan, Aria."
He activated all four Soul Weapons simultaneously, arranging their energies into a specific geometric pattern. Then...
"Hmm..."
For the first time, Patrick’s expression turned serious.
Reaching out, he used Void Manipulation to recall his two swords and took a serious stance, initiating the Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles.
‘This is different. This is very different.’
Vrooooooom.
The presence of the power being emitted was not something a mere fledgling like Riman should be able to produce. He felt a much more sophisticated martial principle at work.
Seeing Patrick’s reaction, Riman maintained his smile.
"I see. You recognize it, then?"
"What the hell is that?"
"Patrick Schneider. Do you know? This world is composed of the four great elements."
"..."
Patrick didn't answer, but Riman continued, arranging the energy before him into complex diagrams. His swords moved with precision, as if a mage were drawing a magic circle in the air, and the energy he generated grew increasingly potent.
"Fire, Earth, Water, and Wind. The world exists based on these four elements. In other words, the four great elements are the foundation of the world and the beginning of all things. That power is the first existence—the Primordial Mana."
At that moment, a terrifying aura erupted from Riman.
It was a presence that even the great Patrick could not ignore. It was the kind of power that would mark one as a Grandmaster even back in the Martial World.
‘How can a brat like him...’
Goosebumps broke out on his skin.
This was the first time since his reincarnation that he had felt such power with his own skin. Not even the King Ogre from his childhood or the Dullahan summoned by the Dark Mage had felt like this.
Was this what was possible if one borrowed the power of magic?
As Patrick stood tense, Riman spoke with a triumphant smile.
"Behold. This is the core of my research. The power held by the Primordial Mana."
Before him, the four attributes merged into a single, swirling mass of energy.
Pure white. An absolute, pristine white that seemed capable of reducing all other colors to nothingness.
Sensing the danger of that energy—which felt as though it could erase the very existence of anything it touched—Patrick...
"Fine. Come at me!"
It was the first time.
It was the first time since being reborn as Patrick Schneider that he felt such a powerful urge to compete.
"I will meet you with everything I have."
Patrick resolved to use the Ultimate Secret Art of the Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles, a technique he had only performed a handful of times even in his past life.
This opponent was worthy of it.
The energy Riman was generating grew even more colossal.
"Wo... Wow..."
"What is that? What is he trying to do?"
"Are we actually safe here?"
"Shouldn't we be running away?"
The audience was also growing uneasy; the power Riman was emitting was truly staggering.
"Heh heh heh..."
Vrooooom...
"Hahahahahaha!"
VROOOOOOOOM!
Riman’s mad laughter grew louder amidst a noise that sounded like tens of thousands of bees swarming. He called out to Patrick.
"Do you know, Patrick Schneider?"
"Know what? Just hurry up and bring it. I’ll meet it with my best technique—"
"No, keep this in mind."
"What?"
"This is the foundation for success, the cornerstone for great progress. Its name is..."
The energy before Riman grew even larger. And then...
"A failure!"
BOOOOOOOOM!
An explosion accompanied by a blinding flash erupted right where Riman stood.
The surging energy had fluctuated violently for a split second before losing its form and detonating.
"...Huh?"
Patrick, who had been about to unleash his Ultimate Secret Art, stood there with a blank expression.
What was this...? This awkwardness...?
As the aftermath of the explosion cleared, Riman was revealed, collapsed and battered.
Even in that state, he lifted his head, pushed up his glasses, and croaked out:
"As I thought... the research is still... lacking..."
Then he slumped over. The referee and Patrick stared at each other in stunned silence.
"Ahem. Patrick Schneider wins."
Patrick Schneider.
Advanced to the semifinals of the Arcana tournament.
By pure luck...
* * *
"Hey, Patrick! Congrats!"
"The semifinals already? Damn... what an achievement."
"Professor! This needs to be recorded in the academy’s history books!"
Upon his return, Patrick was greeted with enthusiastic cheers from his seniors.
"Winning because your opponent blew himself up!"
"Khahaha! What luck!"
"Did you see his serious face?"
"Pfft, did you see him earlier? 'Fine. Come at me!' Hahaha!"
"Man, it was like a scene out of a novel."
"And then, 'I will meet you with everything I have—' Gack!"
Patrick began to lash out at his seniors, who were pouring fuel on the fire of his embarrassment.
"The lucky madman is going on a rampage!"
"Bwahaha! Run for your lives!"
Perhaps they had grown immune to Patrick’s violence? Even as they were being pummeled, the seniors didn't stop teasing him.
‘Dammit, that idiot. Making me look like a fool.’
Since being born into this world, the number of times Patrick had taken up his sword with such sincerity could be counted on one hand. The energy that four-eyed brat had summoned was impressive enough to make even the great Patrick nervous.
‘But what does it matter? Looking at him, it seems like he’ll never be able to control it in his entire life.’
No matter how powerful a force is, it’s useless if it cannot be controlled. A small dagger that can be wielded is far more threatening than a thousand-pound axe that cannot be lifted.
‘Let’s not worry about it. He was just a weirdo. I shouldn't associate with him.’
However, at that moment, Patrick had no idea.
He had no idea what the Tower of Truth was currently thinking about him.