Chapter 54
Chapter 54
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: Subduing Demon Hall
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I headed straight for Guanzhong without looking back. That was where the Azure Dragon Martial Hall stood—the origin and source of my martial arts. I raced toward it with single-minded fury, casting aside all the clutter like Jangryeong Valley, Chamgeuk, Luoyang, and everything else. Up until now, I'd been veering off course thanks to the perks of my reincarnation, but witnessing Mangnyang's death firsthand had changed something deep inside me.
Paat!
Focusing solely on the run unleashed my lightness skill at a speed rivaling a flying tiger, without a moment's pause. Ignoring the limits of the human body, I never tired once, even as my straw sandals snapped five times. Whenever my muscles started to flag, they regenerated instantly, bursting back with vitality.
Whirlik.
Half a day's journey from the Guanzhong Azure Dragon Martial Hall, I leaped to the top of a mountain in the woods. From here, I no longer needed mountain shortcuts. Sticking to the main roads frequented by travelers would avoid needless misunderstandings later. Breathing in the crisp mountain air, I gazed at the distant horizon and pondered.
'What in the world was that insane downpour?'
It was bizarre.
Unnatural.
I'd been too caught up in meeting Mangnyang to think about it, but the dark clouds that had ambushed me on the way to Jinrang Valley were unmistakably off. This was my eighth life, counting this one, and I'd never seen rain like that before. There had to be some 'reason' behind such a massive weather shift.
My regressions operated on a clear premise: [If there's a cause, the past changes.]
So what was the reason—
I regretted not asking Mangnyang, even briefly, but I brushed it aside. No guarantee he knew, and I was done getting distracted. I'd already accepted death; I could find out later.
'Hmm. This area's crawling with bandits and brigands...'
Someone was in mortal danger.
"P-Please, spare me!"
"Hahaha!!"
From the mountaintop, I spotted four bandits emerging on a quiet mountain path, swinging blades at passersby. About forty paces away, so I figured I had time. I infused inner energy into a pebble at my feet and kicked it.
Ppak!
"Kuaak!"
Two bandits' skulls shattered on impact. The shock probably killed them via concussion on the spot. The remaining pair hesitated at the sudden turn, and I kicked another pebble.
Peok!
"Kraaak!!"
The last two collapsed, spurting blood. I'd slain four in an instant, but no guilt stirred. I'd saved that traveler's life. Still, from past lives, this region always felt thick with highwaymen and murderers.
Why so many bandits?
Muttering to myself, I soon encountered one more in the woods, gripping a sword and prepping for business. A solo operator, by the look—burly and tough.
"Heh heh... Hand over everything you've got, kid..."
He grinned at me like fresh prey, but after two punches to the face, he dropped to his knees, teeth chattering. I thrust my fist forward and said,
"Sorry. All I've got is these."
"Y-Young hero... Forgive me... Please, just spare my life..."
I'd already killed four bandits today. Murderous scum they were, but mindless slaughter felt off. I nodded and asked,
"Hey. Why's this area swarming with thieves and bandits? It's always struck me as weird."
"Y-Young hero, you don't live around here?"
"Yeah. Explain the reason, and I'll let you go."
"Oh, gladly! I know all about it!!"
Rubbing his hands obsequiously, the bandit spilled it fluently.
"You seem like a martial artist from the jianghu—ever heard of the Green Forest Seventy-Two Strongholds?"
I replied flatly.
"Yeah. The bandits' little club."
Green Forest Seventy-Two Strongholds.
It referred to the seventy-two bandit lairs where the so-called green forest outlaws gathered. Not literally seventy-two, of course—just a sarcastic jab at how bandits infested the Central Plains. Famous ones usually got wiped out by the garrison soon enough.
"Well... Can't argue that... But the seventy-two is hype—the Green Forest Eighteen Strongholds are real! Five of 'em right here in Guanzhong, from what I hear."
"What? Green Forest Eighteen Strongholds?"
"Yes, sir. I'm not with 'em, but any strong guy heads there to sign on as muscle..."
"Hmm..."
I was floored.
'Guanzhong from my childhood was a total lawless dump.'
Even in my escort days, formal green forest strongholds existed, their bandits trained in proper martial arts at escort level. But they operated solo, never lumped as "eighteen strongholds." Curiosity piqued, I said,
"Guanzhong's got no major sects, sure, but don't martial artists crush these eighteen? Especially the righteous sects—prime chance to make a name."
"That's... they don't act alone. Always united. Plus, their chiefs and deputies outmatch most martial artists. After a few got wrecked, everyone steers clear."
"......"
Bandits were often peasants or refugees fleeing taxes, landlords' tyranny—slashers, fugitives. Hence the killers and ragtag bands. No real cooperation; I'd seen plenty gut each other as escorts.
In short—rabble.
But these era's bandits were too organized.
Sure, my escort days had kung fu bandits, but nothing impressive. Strongholds might demand tolls, yet fierce escort resistance could bloody them bad.
Finding a chief-level bandit was rare; they usually defected to evil sects or the Eight Demonic Sects as mid-tier goons. No point banditry with real skill.
But eighteen strongholds thriving, even smashing minor righteous raids? Unheard of. Trained sect martial artists outclassed them.
'Could the bandits have learned superior martial arts?'
Only explanation. Chiefs with at least escort-captain skills sustained the power. Explained the garrison's caution too.
Curious, I asked,
"Anyone commanding all eighteen at once?"
"Hmm... Heard of a 'Green Forest King' claiming the title. Just rumors, though—I dunno details."
"Green Forest King?"
"Toting a tiger skin, wields a saber. His Tiger King Stronghold's the strongest of the eighteen, they say..."
Probably his personal prowess fueled the hype. Useful intel someday. Knowledge from this era was gold.
"Fine. You're free."
"Ugh, thank you, young hero...!!"
I left him there.
"Hand over the money!"
"Eeek."
From hiding, I watched about an hour. Seeing him shove a blade at another traveler, I sighed.
'Bandits are all the same trash.'
Why so many big-talkers? Desperate scum—no point in morals lectures. Half my life clashing with them as escort; I knew their rot better than anyone.
I flicked a tiny pebble, thumb-sized.
Ttak!
"Huh!"
Kkang.
It nailed his sword-hand index finger dead-on. He dropped the blade. Scooping it up frantic, he realized I was watching. Glancing around, he muttered,
"Ah... Just go."
"Eeek."
Sick of the sight, I withdrew. And thought,
'I'll nab that Bandit King someday. He's why innocents suffer.'
Soon, I entered Guanzhong city.
As ever, bustling. Third time here, so no nerves. Used coin from grilled bandits for a bath, rest, new clothes—mine were filthy, sandals shredded.
Lounging on the second-floor inn window, gazing skyward, my qi sense picked up multiple first-class experts.
'Hmm... Nangong Hwan and Moyong Yeon, plus jianghu first-raters tailing them covertly.'
Right, that incident.
The Heavenly Yin Body pursuit!
Rumors that violating Moyong clan's peerless beauty Moyong Yeon, with her Heavenly Yin Body, granted immense inner power. Nangong Hwan and her fled; he begged death-row convict Jin So-cheong for aid.
I'd timed it perfectly. Likely an inevitable event unless derailed. I could help Nangong Hwan if I wanted, but no point.
His loose lips caused it all—none of my business, zero gain. Besides, with Chief Instructor involved, those tails were no match. I focused on prepping for a smooth Azure Dragon Martial Hall entry tomorrow.
Fed and rested well, I arrived at the hall. Familiar faces: brothers Bang Il and Bang Gok, second-line disciples and gatekeepers. Bang Il especially—I shared history. Not pleasant, but ties were ties.
I smiled.
"I've come for the entrance exam."
Third time saying it. Emotions stirred.
"Entrance exam? Ha! What a joke."
Third time hearing that too. Bang Il's guffaw was spot-on.
No fighting the flow—I reenacted events calmly.
Kkung!
Soon arm-wrestling me versus Bang Il; I won, he led to Crouching Dragon Hall.
Trailing him, curiosity hit. First time trying this question.
"Senior Brother Bang Il."
"Hmph, 'senior brother' already? Precocious brat."
Gruff, but no bite. Awkward with people, that Bang Il. Chuckling inwardly, I pressed,
"Did you join the hall to become a jianghu master, Senior Brother Bang Il?"
"Hah? Obvious! First-line maybe casual, but second-line needs resolve. Third-line? Life commitment."
"So with that effort, you become a master for sure?"
He snorted.
"We believe it. Hall Master, Chief Instructor, instructors—their arts are top-tier. Effort gets us there."
"I see."
Nodded, but bitter.
'No, wrong. You're deluded, Bang Il.'
His talent's average—like mine.
He'd scrape first-class after five years, barely. Decent for escorts, but pathetic for twenties wasted.
Even as instructor later, I pitied him—picked pointless fights. Hall instructor dreams dashed.
He entered dreaming big, ended boozing in frustration. Without Heavenly Dark Secret Book, I'd be him—chilling thought.
How many Bang Ils in this hall? Half second-line-plus sweated daily, got little. Few third-liners broke even on investment.
Harsh reality, talent's cruelty—sigh.
What is effort?
What is talent?
I halted abruptly; Bang Il glanced back puzzled.
"What? Hurry up."
"Senior Brother Bang Il. Looking forward to training with you."
He flushed, yelled,
"Oy, punk! Just follow. Not confirmed yet—don't jinx it..."
Snickered at his grumble. Lifetimes dulled such trifles to charm. Vowed no picking on him this life; followed.
Soon, Crouching Dragon Hall.
"Hall Master. Second-line disciple Bang Il, with entrance examinee."
"Enter."
Spacious room; Azure Dragon Hall Master on chair, by bookshelf—mid-read.
His face unchanged. Clear gaze lingered, then,
"Bang Il. What's the boy's name?"
"Uh..."
Bang Il hemmed, eyed me. I spoke.
"Baek Woong."
Knew the script.
"Yes... Leave us, Bang Il."
"Yes."
Druruk.
Door shut; Triple Excellence Lee Gwang eyed me silently long.
Then bluntly,
"Baek Woong. From the White Lotus Cult?"
Past lives, panicked, desperate lies—life-or-death gamble. Now, calm denial.
"No. Instead, Hall Master, let me demonstrate my arts. That should convince you."
"Hoo."
"Any good spear and sword in the training ground?"
My poise drew intrigued eyes. Years under him—I knew that curiosity glint.
"Of course. Show your stuff."
"Right."
Paat.
Full Thunder Shadow Step out—afterimages overlapped faintly. Lee Gwang startled. I seized training ground weapons, unleashed Thunder Spirit Eight Forms, Thunder Shadow Swordsmanship, Thunder Cloud Palm in sequence.
Finally, Thunder Cloud Palm gong thrummed—tjeeeng—vibrating the whole yard.
From Crouching Dragon Hall, soft transmission like whisper:
[Disciple of Thunder God Style? Impressive realm.]
No White Lotus or Saint Lotus suspicions. As heir, he saw my mature Thunder Spirit applications. Nodded.
"Details inside."
Lee Gwang smiled pleased.
No doubt whatsoever.
"Seeing Thunder God Style—good day. Shall I fetch the good liquor?"
Third entry: success.
Good liquor—
His ritual for trusted guests at peak mood.