Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Phoenix Cry Cave (2)
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According to legend, a giant serpent lives for a thousand years and becomes an imugi, then lives another thousand to become a dragon. But that's only half right and half wrong.
An imugi is a unique creature that forms its inner core on the outside of its body. For it to become a dragon, it must craft that core over about a thousand years until it finally turns into a yeouiju.
In other words, even if it lives for thousands of years, if that core never becomes a yeouiju, it can never turn into a dragon.
The imugi standing before me now had lived for a whopping three thousand years yet remained stuck here, unable to ascend.
"I have come to help you."
The imugi cradled a man-sized inner core in its massive coils. A bone-chilling cold emanated from it, enough to freeze one's entire body.
"You think a puny thing like you can help me?"
Its snake-like yellow divine eyes flashed. Legend held that an imugi's pupils could discern good from evil.
That's why there was also a tale that an imugi had to devour a hundred wicked humans to become a dragon.
In reality, though, they spent their lives holed up in remote mountain valleys, just trying to craft their yeouiju.
"You're no wicked human. But that doesn't make you one of the righteous either. What a hypocrite."
Was that how I appeared through its eyes?
No matter. In my previous life, it had trusted me once before, so it would again this time.
When I arrived here in my past life, evading the Murim Alliance's pursuit, I was already on the brink of death. I'd forced my power beyond its limits, twisting my meridians, and my arms barely functioned.
It was this very imugi that revived me when I couldn't even utter a word.
It gave me the inner core it had painstakingly crafted over a thousand years. An imugi's core contained qi more potent than any spiritual medicine.
After consuming it, I spent a full year circulating that immense inner power just to control it. It allowed me to straighten my meridians and survive the ordeal.
That inner power also played a huge role in reaching the pinnacle in my previous life.
When I later asked why it saved me, it said it felt a kinship in my hatred and resentment toward humans. It too had been betrayed by martial artists.
I promised the imugi that I would wipe the murim from the face of the earth with my own hands.
Did it finally become a dragon and ascend after I fulfilled that vow at the cost of my life, gazing upon the fallen murim? Or was it crushed by lingering grudges, spending eternity in this frigid cave once more?
No way to know. But in this life, at least, I planned to repay its life-saving grace before it was too late.
"Just trust me once."
That was the plan, anyway...
"They say there's a fine line between courage and recklessness. This seat admires courage, but despises hypocrites who mistake recklessness for bravery—like you."
Spiritual beings typically possess immense power beyond mortal imagination.
Especially not some twin-headed serpent or white spirit snake—this was an imugi, one that had lived for thousands of years. Even top masters couldn't stand against it.
In my current state, peeling off a single scale would be a challenge.
Damn, I'd been too complacent. Things don't always play out exactly like in a past life.
"Wait just a moment!"
I hurriedly tried to stop it, but it ignored me and charged. Time for the last resort.
"I know why you can't become a dragon!"
It froze.
Its razor-sharp fangs halted just before piercing my skull. A split second later, and I'd have been on the road to the afterlife. No more gambles like that.
"...How does a whelp like you know something even this seat hasn't grasped after thousands of years?"
"A thousand years ago, you were betrayed by a human and lost your inner core. Am I wrong?"
The imugi narrowed its eyes at me, its expression screaming, How do you know that?
Of course I knew. You'd told me yourself in my previous life.
"Indeed. I paid the price for greed with my own hands... and lost those hands to greed."
"I'm a descendant of that human. I'm here to make things right."
A complete lie, of course. No point mentioning regression—it wouldn't believe me. Just an excuse I made up.
Besides, now that I knew the path to dragonhood, it wouldn't kill me.
"Come to think of it, you resemble that one. The red-haired human who taught me the folly of greed—you look just like him."
Huh? A casual bluff, and it turns out it met someone who looked like me?
Good—no risk of my lie unraveling.
"So, what prevents this seat from becoming a dragon?"
"Your inner core is filled with resentment. A core tainted by worldly attachments can never become a yeouiju. You must first attain enlightenment."
"Are you telling this seat to achieve nirvana and become a Buddha right now?"
The imugi knew its stuff. Buddha, huh? Not far off.
Fundamentally, an imugi's ascension mirrored human enlightenment: accumulating cultivation, shedding defilements, escaping the mortal realm.
The difference? Humans cultivated inwardly; imugi through their cores.
Thus, my hypothesis: to become a dragon, it needed to gather pure qi in its core. Just a hypothesis, but probably right.
Above all, I'd ingested its core myself, so I knew better than anyone it differed vastly from the legends' yeouiju.
"You don't need to become a Buddha. Just discard the defilements filling your core."
"There's merit in that. So, how exactly?"
"Stop obsessing over quantity. Gather only the purest qi, even if it's scant. Only by letting go of those painful years can you be freed from that pain."
Simple in theory. Yet the hardest thing.
Discarding all but a droplet from a thousand-year core? No easy feat.
Humans are the same. The longer our suffering, the more we demand compensation. But compensation comes only when we release that suffering.
In my previous life, I couldn't let go of even a mere century of pain.
The imugi seemed to grasp my words but struggled to accept them. Separating qi from the core was easy; re-fusing it, not so much.
One mistake, and a thousand years could vanish into nothing.
"Why should I trust you?"
"Don't trust me. Trust the long years you've lived."
The imugi silently gazed at its core—a mass of hatred and resentment that chilled the air like ice.
Its first core surely hadn't been like this. Layer upon layer, the weight of millennia seeped in, yielding that dark sheen.
An inky, murky glow, void enough to stain everything black.
Gazing at the embodiment of its own time, the imugi's expression turned bitter.
"Filthy... and ugly."
It steeled its resolve. Closing its eyes, it pressed its forehead to the core. The faint light from its body flared intensely, illuminating the darkness.
A glowing orb seemed to emerge from the man-sized core. Then darkness deepened, light solidified—and they separated.
A pearl the size of two finger joints emerged from the core.
Ten years' worth of qi from a thousand-year core. Meager in amount, but its radiance outshone any light I'd seen—pure and crystalline.
The imugi stared in awe at what it had wrought: a testament to its era, a hidden light even it hadn't known dwelled within.
The pure embodiment of its desperate wish to become a dragon. That was the yeouiju.
"I thank you, human. As a final boon for aiding me, tell me your wish. Even after becoming a dragon, I shall cherish and fulfill it. What is it?"
Ascended dragons rise to the heavens, watching over humans. They can't meddle greatly on earth but can offer small aid at key moments.
What we call "luck" often stems from such beings' touch.
Asking my wish was akin to swearing to grant it when needed. Only one desire for me.
"I want to protect the people dear to me."
The imugi nodded, goodwill shining in its eyes.
"Little human of courage and wisdom, I offer you boundless respect. From the heavens, I shall watch over you and fervently wish for your desire to come true."
In farewell, it approached and offered its forehead. I gently placed my hand there, feeling the warm glow it emanated.
Then, the imugi took the yeouiju into its mouth.
It cradled the small treasure earned through eons of endurance.
Shaaaaack.
A white membrane formed over its skin like a serpent shedding. Horns sprouted from its forehead, a wholly new life budding within the casing.
Soon, the horns fully emerged, cracks spiderwebbing the white shell.
Crack. Split. Craaack. Boom!
A white dragon burst from the shattered husk, revealing its majestic form.
The moment it appeared, the dragon shot skyward, as if proclaiming its birth to the world.
A massive hole tore through the cave ceiling, sunlight pouring in.
The dragon soared unceasingly toward the sun, with devouring momentum.
Its grand silhouette dwindled to a point in the sky, vanishing utterly—on and on, endlessly, ceaselessly.