Chapter 11
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Time Flows Like Water (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Grind.
My teeth ground together.
Have I ever been beaten this badly in my entire life? I'd reached the pinnacle of helplessness for the first time since I was born.
I thought I had talent, even if I fell short compared to the later-generation disciples of prestigious sects. I figured I could hold my own against peers my age. What a blatant delusion.
I got beaten one-sidedly, struck even harder when I tried to counterattack, and in my rage, I vomited up everything I'd eaten a year ago.
They taught me that a real man stands brave against violence without flinching. But reality is a mess. I felt it in my bones why no one can stand against a beating.
Was I a frog in a well?
At least now I know how vast the world is, right? Not quite. I hadn't realized there was a monster lurking in that well.
I no longer knew if the world was scarier than the well.
And that monster smirked at me again today.
That infuriating mug—I'll smash it flat!
"Not gonna slack off today?"
Grind grind!
"How long are you planning to block punches with your body alone?"
Grrrrrind!
"You can't just rely on your durability and rampage like that."
Uwaaaagh!
That poison-tongued mouth of his.
Just hit him already!
He's not my brother—he's my sworn enemy.
On the first day of defeat, I'd awakened to my shortcomings and burned with pure zeal to improve.
What a futile ambition.
Five years later, all that remained was malice, venom, and resentment toward my brother.
I'd never felt killing intent in my life, but he was the exception. Blood kin or not, I wanted to beat him to death. Every word he said clawed at my guts, shaking my composure.
If only he'd shut that mouth, life would be bearable.
"Oh? You're zoning out. You've grown a lot."
"...You damn mutt... Kugh!"
"You can even curse now. I'm so proud!"
"...You demonic bastard!"
"Yeah, bark all you want."
Watching my little brother's tearful struggle... Hmm, it was heartbreaking. He still hadn't reached the level I wanted. As the future sect leader of the Pine Tiger Sect, shouldn't he aim for the title of the continent's supreme swordsman?
Settling for regional top sword wasn't enough. As the brother of the War King, once called the Demon King of Battle, he needed to be the continent's greatest swordsman to save face, right?
But everything has its natural order.
Training is essential to grow strong.
Learn step by step, so don't worry—just trust and follow your big brother.
"Your side's wide open."
"...Don't say it... after hitting... *cough*!"
"You're not coughing up blood just from a little kick."
"...My ribs... feel broken!"
"They're not. You know your bro has killer instincts. Rub some spit on it, and it'll heal right up, so quit whining."
It's not whining!
You heartless, cold-blooded monster!
How can he hit even harder when his little brother says he's hurt? Muho had no ill feelings toward his brother at first. But after five years, everything changed. His brother was the devil incarnate.
How could he unleash such ruthless falconry on his own kin without a shred of hesitation? He twisted the waist of his unmarried little brother without mercy.
Crack!
No...!
He swung his sword from left to right, then shifted vertically, but it sliced only air. Instantly, an attack burrowed into his waist, wrapping around and locking his legs.
Snap!
With the sound of bone grinding, Muho felt his upper and lower body moving independently.
"It's fine—your bro's hands are healing hands."
"What kind of healing hands are those? They're wrecking hands!"
Touch me, and it'll shatter instead of heal.
Muho instinctively dodged the touch. He reflexively kicked off the ground, leaping into a combat stance. He'd avoided a fatal blow in that instant. Still, finding a spot on his body that didn't hurt took longer.
"You trying to kill your little brother?!"
"If I wanted you dead, you'd have died five years ago, little bro."
"You con artist!"
"Hey now, nothing you won't say to your big bro."
"Then take it back!"
"Aw, my little bro's gotten so cute. Heh heh heh heh."
That sly laugh.
Flinch!
Dangerous.
Can't fall for the 'cute' praise. Muho swiftly deployed his footwork to create distance.
If he'd stayed put...
Boooom!
Ten-zhang radius.
Devastated.
Shudder!
The earth's crust peeled back, hiding the crater's true depth.
'...Brutal!'
Cold sweat dripped from Muho. It looked light, but from the receiving end, it was anything but. The unimaginable force within was surely an absolute intangible strike born of formless will.
'...This makes no sense!'
Five years ago, he couldn't pull off something this absurd. Yet now, he used intangible fists casually. Even Shaolin's Hundred-Step Divine Fist paled in comparison. Even if Bodhidharma himself descended and trained for ages, it wouldn't match.
Damn it!
And our family calls itself a sword sect?
What fist arts are these?!
"Your stride control is off, and your true energy flow is incomplete, making it shaky. If you'd drawn two fen from your Yongcheon point, you'd have been much faster."
"It's not that easy."
"You gonna argue with your sky-high big bro? Is that it?"
"...No, not it."
Muho still felt like he was dreaming.
Was the guy in front of him really his brother? Judging by the power displayed, it couldn't be. Who could believe someone became an absolute master overnight? Even blood brothers struggled to accept this reality.
"Your internal energy grows fast, but external arts lag. Especially the true energy delivery to your lower body wastes energy unnecessarily, increasing overall consumption. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"...Today's the first... Aagh!"
"If your bro says so, then it is. Do I have to spell it out? Aren't you the Pine Tiger Sect's self-proclaimed top prodigy and genius?"
"Just beat me... Kugh!"
"If that's what you want."
Mujin honored his little brother's wish, faithfully putting him through the grind. He might not excel elsewhere, but he was top-notch at survival training that never gave up until the end.
The foundations of the War King Art echoed the Pine Tiger Sect's Evolution Art. Brotherly love is a beautiful thing.
"Still too much fluff. A sword is just a weapon to kill with. Don't put stock in pointless Confucius quotes or Buddha sayings. The more stray thoughts, the shakier your sword. If you're gonna kill, kill. Think after. That's how you survive."
"...!"
"Answer me."
"...Hit the... feet first, ugh...!"
"Ah, my mistake."
"...Mistake... my ass... it was on... urk!"
"Keep that up, and you'll slip."
Why'd his foot have to land on his little bro's face? Hard to understand, but mistakes needed correcting. It'd been a while since he showed off his free-flowing footwork. If people thought he only used fists, it'd cause misunderstandings.
"Your bro's pretty good with his feet too."
"...Don't wanna hear that... from you... shove it up your ass."
"Sorry, my bad."
"...If it was on... purp... urk!"
"Pointing out facts embarrasses your shame-prone big bro."
A War King couldn't afford to be embarrassed.
He had social status and face to uphold. Couldn't commit fratricide on his brother, so he kindly blocked with his foot. Family ties kept him alive—otherwise, he'd have unleashed killing moves out of sheer shame.
An incense stick's time passed.
"How long you gonna lie there, little bro?"
"I'm up!"
"Such temper."
"Whose fault is that?"
"Not mine."
Whoa, check out this shamelessness.
He'd always known his big bro was brazen, but it hadn't changed—it had intensified. Everything else evolved, but his personality stayed rock-solid, flipping people's insides.
"Sword path is important, but instant response—adaptability—is still lacking. We'll reinforce sensory training."
"...Here? More?!"
He'd locked him in a pitch-black cave for sensory training, hurling daggers. That time, the fear surpassed death itself. He jolted awake from nightmares. And now, even harsher training? Muho felt the urge to end it all.
"Or show results in our next spar."
"Fine. I'll do it."
Mujin smiled.
His brother was mature beyond his years. A side effect of not settling into the sect and drifting on the edges. Kids his age should act their age.
Whine, throw tantrums, be stubborn—that's allowed. Mujin was pleased his brother, who'd always shouldered responsibility alone, was finally expressing emotions.
"That's more like the Pine Tiger Sect's top prodigy and genius."
"All the geniuses probably died!"
"Can't kill 'em, so wanna get pummeled till you suffocate?"
"Can't even joke with your brother, heh heh."
Muho grumbled but acknowledged it deep down.
He'd restructured the sect's Pine Tiger Ten Swords into Five Swords. Did fewer forms mean weaker? No. They'd just had too many useless ones before. Linking forms for answers? Meaningless if you got swept away first.
'He's reached grandmaster realm!'
He didn't want to believe it, but beyond monstrous skill, his brother had grandmaster-level insight. Otherwise, he couldn't refine ancestral sword arts.
-Don't forget it's thanks to me.
'Show-off.'
-Not showing off—I'm just that good.
'Keep talking.'
-I have no mouth now.
As War King, Mujin's battle sense was unmatched. But understanding martial arts deeply across fields was another matter. Unlike his own arts, he needed broad, profound views.
The Demon King transcended one-learn-ten geniuses. Reducing Ten Swords to Five yet preserving essence, doubling power.
'Yeah, impressive.'
-You're the idiot. At your level, you should interpret and tweak low-tier arts. A War King with a thick skull? Me, beaten by a dimwit.
'Brains and fighting are unrelated.'
-He didn't avoid command—he sucked at it!
The War King gave the Demonic Cult of the Demon God a conquest pretext but didn't lead battles. The Murim Alliance's strategists used him effectively. People thought he hated restraints, but truth: battle prowess didn't extend to war strategy.
'Who cares about that crap.'
-Not wrong.
'Sudden agreement?'
-Absolute masters are weapons themselves.
One absolute master's scope is limited, but tiers exist among them. The War King was the pinnacle.
That's why the Demonic Cult always struggled against him.