Chapter 028 - The Flower Bloomed by Righteousness and Demonic
Night had deepened before they knew it.
The drinking party had broken up, and the warriors lay sprawled here and there across the courtyard, snoring away.
Even so, the predawn chill had them lighting several bonfires that crackled and popped.
The stench of booze and sweat mingled with the scent of burning firewood, rising in white plumes of smoke.
“Kuuh! Fine moon tonight, eh? Don't you think, Sword Demon? Or should I say, Jin Family Head?”
Jin Muhon and Muheo had climbed onto the roof of a wing, away from the group.
Standing with his hands clasped behind his back on the cold tiles, Jin Muhon gazed up at the round moon.
A chill night breeze slipped through his robes, bringing today's events back to mind unbidden.
Vital souls... dead souls?
The Cloud Peak Demon Sea—a family secret art infused with Ma-seon's insights.
And the red mist it manifested: Blood Mist.
Until today, he'd seen the Blood Mist as merely the upper dantian's function, a manifestation of demonic qi.
But the phenomena when he drew the Four Emperors Sword—especially that punk Cheongpung's state—suggested something more.
Undoubtedly human in form.
Those figures screaming and reaching out.
The Blood Mist seemed to hold the souls of the dead.
If Shima knew, he'd lose his mind.
The Cult had demon scholars who studied human souls.
Even they, after a lifetime of research, couldn't handle them easily.
“......”
Jin Muhon glanced down at the black sword at his waist.
In the moonlight, the pitch-black scabbard gleamed faintly.
The sword of the fallen Four Emperors leader.
Best handle it with care for the time being.
Like the Cult's demonic swords, it wasn't ordinary. One couldn't wield such blades recklessly—they might ensnare the heart in unpredictable ways.
Still, it was an excellent sword in its own right, so he had no intention of discarding it.
As long as he didn't use it with the Blood Mist, it should be fine.
“That thing. New demonic sword you picked up?”
As expected of a swordsman, Muheo showed interest in the Four Emperors Sword.
Jin Muhon looked back at the moon and replied nonchalantly.
“Picked it up.”
“What? Picked it up? Who the hell drops a sword like that and walks away? Is the world full of lunatics?!”
Muheo grumbled—even he, no slouch in madness himself—while stealing glances at the sword. He smacked his lips greedily.
If it had been anyone else, he'd have snatched it and drawn it on the spot; the look in his eyes said as much.
“What kind of idiot lets a blade like that slip away. Such a waste...”
Muheo muttered to himself, fingers twitching.
Hearing that, Jin Muhon felt certain of one thing at least.
The Four Emperors leader, slain by a righteous master.
Muheo hadn't been there.
“Continue what we were talking about earlier.”
“Huh? What talk?”
Muheo blinked up at him.
Jin Muhon pressed on coldly.
“Swordsmanship.”
“Ah! That?”
At Jin Muhon's words, Muheo scratched his butt and played dumb.
The Sword Demon wanting something from him, of all people.
Whatever the reason, Muheo had no intention of handing it over easily.
When else would he get a chance to mess with the Sword Demon like this?
Sweat a little, you bastard. Heh heh heh.
Jin Muhon frowned slightly.
“Sounds different.”
“Hey now! What're you saying? Different? I'm a Taoist, an elder of Wudang at that. If I spout nonsense, the Primordial Heavenly Venerable himself would smite me. It's just...”
“Just?”
As Muheo trailed off, Jin Muhon's gaze grew sharper bit by bit.
The air around them chilled. Mist began to creep up from their feet.
Muheo glanced at the red mist and hurried on.
“This old man recently devised a heart method. Confident it's better than most sword arts. But it's unfinished—I only have the gujeol, haven't practiced it myself.”
Jin Muhon stared straight into Muheo's eyes.
“Better than swordsmanship?”
“That's right! Why do you need Wudang swordsmanship anyway? Need something orthodox to replace your demonic arts, yeah?”
“......”
He just needed to get what he wanted.
Jin Muhon nodded faintly without mentioning Jin Hayeon.
“Think about it. The heart method you've cultivated is demonic. Even swinging a Wudang sword would reek of demonic qi. So isn't the heart method what matters most?”
It wasn't for himself, but Muheo was right.
Jin Muhon had planned to start with swordsmanship and work up to the heart method anyway.
Suddenly, he pictured Jin Hayeon—mastering Wudang heart method and swordsmanship, her robes fluttering as she unleashed her blade.
It suits her well.
Thinking of his sole remaining blood kin, the corner of Jin Muhon's mouth curved up ever so slightly.
Muheo's eyes went wide.
“Whoa?! Are you... smiling? The Sword Demon making a face like that?”
Jin Muhon looked down at him with a hardened expression.
“Told you not to call me that.”
“Whoops, my bad. So, what'll it be? Gonna try a heart method no one's touched?”
“Recite the gujeol first.”
“Hm. Fine. You can fill in the gaps. All right, sit down—let's put our heads together.”
Muheo plopped down on the roof with a thud.
The tiles clattered, kicking up dust.
Jin Muhon sat facing him.
Even between masters discussing martial arts, the mood turned serious.
“All right, here comes the gujeol.”
“Begin.”
“Sheesh. You sound like a debt collector.”
“You do owe me your life.”
“......”
Muheo scratched his head a few times, then closed his eyes calmly.
The playful air vanished; an aura of enlightenment flowed naturally from him.
His wild hair fluttered in the cool night breeze, and soft moonlight illuminated his face.
Muheo's lips parted slowly.
Osimyeobun bulgajongil
My heart burns like fire; I cannot endure even a single day.
Jasimjanggo usimjonrak
The left heart hides suffering, the right preserves joy,
Gorakdongja biheigongsaeng
Where suffering and joy coexist, sorrow and delight are born together.
Yangbul sangbang gakdeukgiso
Neither hinders the other; each finds its proper place.
Whiiiiiing—
As Muheo finished reciting, a wind whooshed between them.
Jin Muhon had closed his eyes at some point, mulling over the gujeol.
A heart method that divides the mind. Fitting for a madman.
Still, an attempt he'd never conceived in his lifetime.
Countless demonic arts flashed through his mind as the gujeol began reconstructing itself.
Suffering and joy... sorrow and delight... yin and yang.
Unexpectedly, Muheo's gujeol presented Jin Muhon with fresh challenges.
Thus immersed in their thoughts,
Muheo slowly opened his eyes.
“How... is it?”
His voice trembled with tension.
To a martial artist, their arts were like children.
How many in the world could even invent one?
Even Muheo, the Wudang Supreme Sword, was unveiling his first self-made art to another—for the first time in his life.
To the Sword Demon, no less.
Their paths diverged, and he'd recited the unfinished gujeol half to tease him, but as a grandmaster himself, the nerves were unavoidable.
“Hm...”
Jin Muhon slowly opened his eyes.
Unlike his usual impassive gaze, they were deep and serene.
For a moment, their eyes locked in the air.
From afar came the snoring of the warriors mingled with chirping crickets.
“What made it so hard?”
“......”
Muheo's face cracked at the weighty question.
The anguish embedded in the gujeol.
Whatever the story, Jin Muhon had read Muheo's heart through it.
“...Ugliness... that's why.”
A bitter smile tugged at Muheo's lips.
Jin Muhon tilted his head.
“Ugly? You?”
“Don't I look ugly in your eyes?”
Jin Muhon snorted.
“Looks like you haven't seen the real uglies yet.”
“...What?”
Gazing at the moon, Jin Muhon spoke coldly.
“The Cult's demon heads are crawling with them. Ones who torture women then rape them, or drain blood from living children.”
“......”
Muheo's mouth clamped shut in a hard line.
Still watching the moon, Jin Muhon recited from memory.
Ilsim iyong yangui bunmyeong
One mind divided into two, making the two principles clear.
Gorakdongja biheigongsaeng
Suffering and joy coexist, sorrow and delight are born together.
Simbun jeuk an sinhap jeuk jeon
Divide the mind for peace; unite the spirit for wholeness.
Yangbul sangbang eumyang johwa
Neither hinders the other; yin and yang achieve harmony.
“......!”
Muheo's face quivered.
He'd fixated on dividing the mind to forget suffering, but Jin Muhon interpreted the split as yin-yang, advancing to harmony.
Who was righteous, who demonic?
As Muheo gaped in shock,
Jin Muhon lowered his gaze and fixed him with a steady stare.
“Ugliness stems not from appearance, but the heart. Suffering too is a mental image from the heart. All of it is you—no need to force a divide.”
Muheo's eyes slid shut.
His breathing steadied, his demeanor composed.
Then, abruptly, he sank into deep samadhi.
Never seen a mad old coot like this.
Jin Muhon inwardly clicked his tongue in disbelief.
A strike now would end him.
Enlightenment or not, how does one drop into samadhi before another—the Sword Demon, no less?
“Hoo...”
In the end, Jin Muhon let out a shallow sigh and stood guard.
Understanding a madman's thoughts was no easy task.
“Hm...”
Fortunately, Muheo's samadhi didn't last long.
About thirty minutes later, he slowly opened his eyes.
Having gained something, his gaze had changed.
The former murkiness was gone; pure light overflowed.
“Am... I not ugly?”
“......”
Jin Muhon thought it the dumbest question imaginable.
A Wudang elder, master martial artist, harboring such doubts.
Still, thinking of Jin Hayeon, he explained as kindly as he could.
“You risked death to save your master, didn't you? Real uglies sacrifice their master to save themselves. I've seen countless like that.”
“S... Sword... Demon...”
In the moonlight, Muheo's eyes glistened.
Jin Muhon scowled as if he'd seen something he shouldn't and stated firmly.
“You're not ugly, old man. The ugly ones are those who called you ugly.”
“......!”
Tears suddenly streamed from Muheo's eyes.
Snot dripped from his nose too.
Jin Muhon widened his eyes.
“What the—?”
“Seventy years alive! You're the first to tell me that, Sword Demon!”
Muheo shot to his feet. The tiles rattled.
To Jin Muhon, ugliness meant nothing; to Muheo, it was a lifelong torment and regret.
Sensing the shift, Jin Muhon stood quickly too.
“Stay there. Why're you coming closer?”
“Sword Deeeeeemon!”
“Damn it—!”
Grab!
“Waaaah!”
Muheo lunged into the Sword Demon's arms, sobbing into his neck.
He wailed so pitifully that Jin Muhon couldn't shove him off.
His robes soaked not by a woman, but an old man's tears.
Cursing inwardly, Jin Muhon awkwardly patted Muheo's back.
All for Jin Hayeon's sake.
“Shake off your resentment, old man.”
A dry voice, devoid of emotion.
But at its meaning, Muheo shuddered once and whooshed back.
Looking up with trembling eyes, he said,
“Jin Muhon.”
“......?”
Muheo built up the atmosphere.
A sect grandmaster acting like this.
Anyone else would bow in awe.
But Jin Muhon just felt a headache coming on.
What nonsense is this mad old fart spouting now?
Unaware or uncaring, Muheo lowered his voice and spoke gravely.
“This heart method wouldn't have seen the light of day without your help.”
“Cut the dramatics and say what you want.”
“I promised you something better than swordsmanship. Do you acknowledge it?”
Jin Muhon frowned slightly, but Muheo spoke true.
A brand-new gujeol, utterly unlike any he'd learned, was etched vividly in his mind.
And it was a divine art suitable not just for Jin Hayeon, but even himself.
Come to think of it, not bad at all...
Muheo's heart method, born from dividing the mind to conquer suffering.
It applied to everything.
Suffering and joy, yin and yang, and...
Righteousness and demonic.
Jin Muhon nodded silently at Muheo.
Only then did Muheo grin like a child.
“Then, grant this old man one request? Nothing hard.”
“...Let's hear it.”
“Name the divine art for me.”
“......”
People vied for credit over their creations.
Yet Muheo asked Jin Muhon to name the flower sprouted from his own seed.
That sincerity weighed heavy, so Jin Muhon pondered long before speaking.
“Dual Intent Divine Art.”
Muheo beamed.
“Excellent.”