Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Translator: Penny
Chapter 11
Yang Gikang spewed a relentless stream of venomous curses. His mouth, riddled with missing teeth, distorted his speech, yet he continued to unleash an endless torrent of resentment and hatred.
"I'll kill him. I'll tear him limb from limb and feed him to the pigs. I'll skin him alive and throw his hide into the salt vat. I'll slice open his belly..."
As if abandoning himself to despair, Yang Gikang surrendered completely to his rage.
The servant attending him barely dared to breathe. It wasn't the pungent medicinal odor seeping from the bandages coiled tightly around Yang Gikang's limbs, nor the sheer intensity of his curses that filled the air.
Rumor had it that the previous servant had been strangled to death by Yang Gikang himself, his throat torn open. The inner court martial artists had supposedly disposed of the corpse in secret.
She was terrified. Even the slightest mistake, or perhaps no mistake at all, could mean death the moment she caught Yang Gikang's eye.
She dreaded that his curses and insults would turn on her next, accompanied by the words, "You crazy bitch! You think you can ignore me too?"
Fortunately, Yang Gicheol arrived before that could happen.
"Wait outside."
"Yes."
Outside the door, Sibi prayed fervently. Please, when I return, let Yang Gikang be dead.
But it was unlikely. The best physician was treating him with the finest medicines.
Yang Gikang looked up at Yang Gicheol with pleading eyes. "...Father."
But the gaze Yang Gicheol fixed on his son was glacial.
"Foolish boy. To be defeated by such an insignificant wretch."
For a moment, Yang Gikang felt a surge of rage.
"That bastard—!"
He almost said, "Byeok Ridan was far stronger than I expected," but stopped himself. Anything he said now would sound like an excuse.
"Kill Byeok Ridan! Kill the bastards who sired him! No, just wipe out the entire Byeok Clan Sword School!"
In any other situation, he would have rebuked his son. But would the Byeok Clan's earlier actions simply vanish now that they were back home?
"That's exactly what I intend to do."
He couldn't forget the contempt in Byeok Dojun's eyes that day, especially with all his subordinates watching. How dare he look down on me? Of all forms of malice, contempt was the hardest to forgive. Those insignificant fools! They wouldn't even crack the top ten in Shandong!
Even if Yang Gikang hadn't begged him, he would have taken the initiative to kill them all himself. He might not recover the money, but he would certainly claim their lives as compensation.
Sensing his father's fury, Yang Gikang shouted excitedly, "Send the Main Association's martial artists immediately and crush them in one swift strike!"
"Fool! They'll be prepared. The Main Association would suffer unacceptable losses."
More importantly, they lacked a legitimate reason for war. Starting a conflict over a childish squabble? Aside from the inevitable condemnation, they risked becoming public enemies of the Martial Arts World. No matter how enraged he was, Yang Gicheol retained that much reason.
"That's why I've summoned someone else."
Yang Gikang's face lit up, already guessing who it was. "You called the Blood Hound?"
Yang Gicheol nodded. His smile reeked of petty, bloodthirsty satisfaction, like the rage of a small man who doesn't yet realize he's already been devoured.
"They'll pay dearly for daring to cross me."
Gwangdu and I were riding in a rattling carriage, heading towards Dongping, where the Yang Association was located.
We could have traveled faster on horseback, but I had hired the carriage for Gwangdu, who wasn't yet comfortable riding. Fortunately, a few hours' delay wasn't a major concern.
Clatter-clatter-clatter.
The scenery outside the window blurred past.
It had been over twenty days since my reincarnation, yet news of my death still hadn't surfaced.
I even considered the possibility that I had been reborn into a different era, but that wasn't the case. I had been reincarnated on the very day I died.
Given the gravity of the Martial Arts Alliance Leader's death, I could understand the delay—for now. The problem would arise if the announcement were postponed for more than a month, stretching into two or three.
"Do you happen to have any hidden funds?"
"Do you think I'm the type to stash away twenty thousand taels in the Continental Bank?"
Gwangdu sighed. "Of course not."
"Then no, I don't."
Some might ask: You've been the Martial Arts Alliance Leader for over thirty years. Shouldn't you have tens of thousands of taels saved up? Wouldn't you have a secret account in the Continental Bank?
The answer is no.
From childhood, I was obsessed with martial arts. My sole joy came from defeating opponents and growing stronger. Compared to the exhilaration of increasing my power, gold was merely worthless stone.
Later, as Alliance Leader, I had no real need for money. Why buy clothes? Why pay for meals? Whenever funds were needed, the Treasury Hall automatically provided them.
If I had deliberately tried to amass wealth back then, I could have accumulated not just tens of thousands, but millions of taels.
But I didn't feel that way. On the contrary, I felt indebted to the Martial Arts Alliance.
As their Alliance Leader, I had received an immense investment from them. The elixirs I had consumed alone were worth an incalculable sum.
Of course, at the time, the Alliance had strategically provided them to help us defeat the Thirteen Dark Alliances and the Blood Heaven Divine Cult. Whatever the reason, thanks to those elixirs, I now possessed the formidable internal energy known as Four Cycles. I had lived content with that, believing it was enough.
"By the way, what book have you been so engrossed in since earlier?"
Gwangdu, who was riding in the carriage with me, seemed curious about the booklet I was reading.
I held up the book to show him the cover.
"White Moon Sword Technique? Gasp!"
Gwangdu gasped, startled, and whispered, "Isn't that the Patriarch's exclusive martial art?"
I lowered my voice to match his. "Indeed."
"That's right. But why are you suddenly whispering?"
"Because it's a precious martial art. What if the coachman outside overhears?"
"Don't you think this makes us look even more suspicious?"
"Ah!"
This time, Gwangdu spoke loud enough for the coachman to hear clearly.
"Hahaha, the White Moon Sword Technique is nothing special."
"I'm telling Father everything."
"Agh, why are you acting like this, Patriarch! The White Moon Sword Technique is the greatest sword technique in the world!"
"Stop changing your tune like that. You're really starting to look suspicious."
"So what!"
My honest impression of the White Moon Sword Technique was this:
Not bad.
It wasn't that I looked down on the technique. My own mastery of martial arts was simply far too advanced. If I had to rank it, I'd place it in the upper-middle tier. Still, I was willing to learn the Family Martial Art primarily to conceal my Original Martial Arts.
"But is it really safe to just bring something so valuable out like this?"
"It's just a handwritten copy. I'm told the original is kept elsewhere."
"No, that's not what I meant..."
"What if someone steals this secret manual, masters it, and uses it against us?"
"Exactly! That's exactly what I was thinking."
"Without the unique Cultivation Method to operate the White Moon Sword Technique, this manual alone is useless."
"Ah, I see."
When I borrowed the handwritten copy from my father, claiming I wanted to reread it while training, I had also taken the opportunity to skim through the Cultivation Manual. It was just another excuse to read it properly.
That single reading was enough for me to memorize all the core principles of the Cultivation Manual. This was due to my abnormally enhanced memory and the fact that the content itself wasn't particularly complex.
Using two Cultivation Methods simultaneously was strictly forbidden, as a misstep could easily lead to Qi Deviation, a dangerous condition where one's internal energy goes haywire.
Of course, that applied to ordinary martial artists, not to me.
Unless it was a supreme Cultivation Method comparable to my own Cheonmu Hoshim Gyeol, I could easily learn and wield any technique, including the one required for the White Moon Sword Technique.
In any case, for the time being, I planned to use the White Moon Sword Technique only when others were watching.
"Young Master, seeing you read is quite unfamiliar. The only reading you've ever done in your life was the tavern menu and the courtesans' attendance register," she remarked, glancing over the Secret Manual.
Suddenly, she asked, "Do you want to learn martial arts?"
Gwangdu flinched.
"No."
"That took you a little too long to answer."
"No, sir. What martial arts could someone like me possibly learn?"
"What's wrong with someone like you? Even a fool like Yang Gikang learned martial arts."
"That's because he was born into a good family. He probably had a good master from a young age."
"When it comes to becoming a martial artist, family and masters aren't what truly matter."
After a moment of silence, Gwangdu asked, "Then what does matter?"
When I hesitated to answer, he began to speculate on his own.
"Innate talent? Bone structure? Or maybe willpower? Ah, hard work, right? That must be it!"
"There's something even more important than all of that."
"So what is it?"
"Destiny."
"What kind of destiny?"
"Destiny with the Martial Arts World."
Gwangdu's eyes widened. He blinked several times before sticking out his lip in a pout.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean? If you don't want to tell me, just say so."
Gwangdu grumbled, claiming he'd asked a pointless question in the first place, but I had spoken sincerely.
I believed that the most crucial thing for someone aspiring to join the Martial Arts World was destiny.
Without a connection to this world, one would die young. Even a negative fate was better than none at all. Those who plunged in unprepared would either end up living as mere background characters or meeting an unintended end.
After staring at the passing scenery outside the carriage for a long while, Gwangdu finally asked, "How do you know if you have a connection?"
Beyond the swiftly blurring landscape, a crimson sunset spread across the horizon.
"I don't know either."