Chapter 206
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 206
Chapter Title: Why Aren't You Asking? (1)
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"You're a secret weapon."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Don't reveal your true power until you've reached perfect mastery."
"That's why I'm asking, my lord. May I go into closed-door training?"
"Your role isn't a small one, but I permit it."
"Thank you, my lord."
"But if there's no result, you're dead."
"Yes, sir!"
After fulfilling his duties for his master and completing an impregnable safe house within the residence, he devoted himself entirely to martial arts training. With his intimate knowledge of the continent's map, he had no shortage of places for secluded training. He had built hidden safe houses all across the Nine Provinces, including the main one.
Among his secret locations, he selected the spot brimming with the most abundant spiritual energy. Mt. Yung in Anhui Province—he had vowed long ago to train his new divine art here once he obtained it. It was a training ground he had carefully concealed.
After setting up camp midway up Mt. Yung, he poured all his effort into perfecting the Heavenly Martial Scripture. He needed no separate master. The lingering traces of the Heavenly Martial Master in his mind guided him along the path of martial arts. It was a silver lining from having his body seized by another.
Perhaps because it was a road he had already traveled once before.
His aptitude for the art was extraordinarily high. As if charting the exact path he was meant to follow, the depth of his martial prowess grew by leaps and bounds. He had thought his age made it too late to master a new art, yet he progressed at an astonishing rate.
The Clear Spirit Oil's effects purged his impurities, transforming his internal energy flow and circulation beyond recognition. Once his power reached a certain threshold, it shattered the barrier, inducing profound changes in his body.
The Heavenly Martial Scripture had ascended to the Seven Stars realm. It was an achievement that defied belief. He even questioned whether he truly possessed such exceptional talent.
'Did my lord see right through my potential?'
He had assumed he was merely captured and put through hell. Without the curse, he had constantly thrashed about in attempts to escape. For a fleeting moment, he felt touched by his lord's keen insight and faith in him.
'Still, no real need to go back just yet... Agh!'
-Been quiet lately, haven't you?
'Slip of the mind.'
-Kekekeke!
The curse neither distinguished nor tolerated such slips.
For a brief instant, he thought, I'm not weak either. With the Heavenly Martial Scripture at this new realm, maybe I can pull something off?
Kughwewewugh!
Fat chance!
Even if the Heavenly Martial Master himself were revived, he wouldn't stand a chance against his lord. He must never forget the sight of himself as a jiangshi getting pummeled by his lord.
Crack, crack!
They say regret is always too late, no matter how swiftly it comes. The agony of rupturing veins and the grotesque grinding of shifting bones hammered into his mind.
Thud!
The curse's torment, now invoked anew, had evolved beyond its previous form, ensuring betrayal was nothing but a pipe dream. He truly felt there was no escaping this curse.
On the flip side, it meant his lord hadn't forgotten him. Pathetic as it was, he had to draw some consolation from that.
He brushed himself off and rose, circulating his energy to assess his condition. Despite the excruciating pain of tearing flesh and shattering bones, his body was in fine shape. If anything, it felt refreshingly invigorated, as if he'd received a full round of acupuncture.
'Damn it all.'
-Me?
'No!'
-Kekekeke!
This madness.
It was every bit the curse his master had implanted.
Kughweweugh!
Only after thrashing about for a spell could he finally regain his senses. He swore never to entertain idle thoughts again. He never wanted to endure that agony twice.
He straightened his attire and resolved to descend Mt. Yung. No lingering attachments.
Swaaaa!
Unleashing his lightness skill, his figure blurred into a streak of lightning.
Even he was stunned by the speed. Were these truly his legs? They had become legs worth a million nyang.
He had always been confident in his movement techniques. The Heavenly Martial Master's Heavenly Flash Step had granted him wings. Floating Shadow Step, was it? He propelled forward without even grazing the ground. And that was just the beginning. Even after dashing for ages, his breath held steady. His stamina and internal energy had transcended mere rapid progress. By his own reckoning, he had now ascended to the ranks of true powerhouses.
'I'm no longer that Heavenly Face Fox!'
He yearned to present his achievements to his lord at the earliest opportunity. Truth be told, he had felt pangs of envy whenever the others grew stronger.
The Pine Tiger Sect came into view.
He approached the figure standing at the main gate.
"Hey."
"Who goes there?"
Oh no!
In his excitement, he had forgotten to alter his appearance. Narin hurriedly doubled back, changed his face and clothes, then returned.
"Where the hell have you been, showing up only now?"
"Had some business."
"Some lunatic just tried acting familiar earlier—nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Stuff like that happens in life."
Now it finally felt like he was home.
Yet his lord was absent from the residence. He had promised a major mission upon his return, but he remained in his lowly servant role.
'No way he's forgotten about me, right?'
"This area's certain. We'll find her soon enough."
"That's what you said a few days back."
"...My apologies."
"Hmph. What a headache."
He had heard rumors of a peculiar woman causing havoc in the desert. At the time, he hadn't taken it seriously—rumors were always bloated with exaggeration. But the substance behind the tales she was spreading gnawed at him.
'This bone-chilling aura... No ordinary ice art could produce it.'
The sand, scorched by the blazing sun, was little more than a bed of hot coals. It cooled at night, but the midday inferno lingered stubbornly.
Yet a full fifty-zhang radius had frozen solid.
Perhaps if her ice art had reached its zenith—but her mental state was far from sound. She might have been poisoned, or perhaps qi deviation from her ice art cultivation.
'An Ice Spirit, maybe?'
It was mere conjecture; as a man, he couldn't quite pin it down. He hadn't acted on hearsay alone.
As a test, he had stirred the Fourth into capturing her. Simple enough—the fool was hopeless around women. And though dubbed a witch, she was a beauty.
"Catching crazy bitches is my specialty. Especially after they've tasted my lower half—they go mad in other ways. Wanna tag along for some fun? I'm a man of honor. Kekekeke!"
The overconfident Fourth had set off immediately. Not long after, he returned as a cold corpse, bisected at the waist. Dullard or not, the man wasn't weak in martial prowess. For her to fell him earned the witch moniker.
The Fourth's death threw everything into disarray. Unwilling as he was, he had boasted to the Palace Lord about capturing the witch—he had no choice but to step up.
Having made such bold claims, he had to deliver her alive or her corpse. Things had gone smoothly at first. But now, closing in, the plan was unraveling. Her ice art surpassed his estimates, and pinpointing her location proved elusive.
'Mind's gone, but her instincts are sharp.'
A warrior's honed senses detecting peril instinctively. Her survival instincts at work. Had she been in her right mind, it might have been even worse.
'Even so, something's off. Am I overlooking something?'
Tracing her movement patterns confirmed she was an outsider. Could someone unfamiliar with the desert evade the eyes of warriors born to its vastness? Logically, impossible.
And yet they had come up empty multiple times.
'Fine. Let's see who comes out on top!'
He decided to switch tactics. To flush her out, some sacrifices were necessary.
'Time to toss some bait.'
Of course, for one thrown away, he expected to gain two. He had already sent word to the diviner beforehand.
The man despised taking losses.
"Horse meat's definitely better than mutton. Not quite beef, but still."
"Seems our tastes run to horse as well."
Yukchil and Cheolho recoiled at the lingering mutton stench after days of nothing else. Even spices just intensified the funk.
"As you saw, I'm a true pacifist. I never strike first."
"Of course, sir. We've always trusted you, Great Hero Kang."
Couldn't just let trash spew nonsense about killing and beating when they didn't know their place.
Not like it was their lives on the line.
After schooling the overconfident fools on the heavens beyond their skies, he stripped them of every last scrap. Especially their horses—he butchered some for rations.
Locals might be accustomed to mutton, but Mujin still couldn't stomach it. For survival, he'd eat bugs if pushed. But with alternatives aplenty, why force down something unpalatable?
-So in the end, horse meat was the trigger.
'Yeah, guilty as charged.'
So what if he killed for tasty horse meat?
Mujin felt no remorse. For scum strutting like emperors, it was a fitting demise. He hoped Yama's verdict before them read: Death by horse.
That's what they called a fool's death by horse, probably.
Better than a dog's death? He pondered it seriously with Yukchil and Cheolho, then demanded the answer he wanted. Answers were always subjective, after all. His will came first.
'More importantly, you're memorizing the route properly, right?'
-You dare use elite talent like me as a mere guide?!
'Would you rather we wander the desert?'
-Not even bothering to memorize now, are you.
'Everyone sticks to their strengths. Quit griping. Demon King's got too sharp a tongue for his own good.'
He had hired guide Makho only up to the vicinity. So long as Makho upheld his end first, Mujin intended to honor the deal.
If unavoidable trouble cropped up en route, it was force majeure—but ten gold nyang accounted for unexpected mishaps. Dig in the sand all you like; you'd only strike black water, never gold.
Travel, rest.
Makho, who had been leading, suddenly halted.
"Rest time already?"
"Yes, sir."
"How much farther?"
"We'll arrive within five days."
They had to wait out the suffocating desert heat until it ebbed. A nearby tree offered shade. They would rest there.
For a brief break, they skipped the ger or tent. Unless shade was nowhere to be found.
Yet Mujin always insisted on pitching a simple ger.
"What're you waiting for? Cool it down with your ice art."
"...Understood."
Inside the simple ger, Bukgung Hye assumed position and circulated her ice art, radiating chill to cool the interior.
Shwaaa!
A crisp chill permeated the ger, dulling the stabbing heat. As time passed, the inside grew frigid, but beads of sweat formed on Bukgung Hye's brow. Bursting forth intense cold was one thing; modulating it subtly was far more taxing.
And she had to keep the Ice White Asura Divine Art running for at least two shichen minimum. The cumulative strain accelerated her internal energy depletion exponentially.
"Seal the tent tight—cold's leaking out."
"Yes, Master."
"Don't waste it. She's putting in real effort here."
"Got it."
Amid her focus on the Ice White Asura Divine Art, Bukgung Hye's qi flow nearly faltered. As if a cat fretting over a mouse's longevity.
'What the hell is this guy?!'
Anyone knowing the value of the Ice White Asura Divine Art—passed only to direct North Sea descendants—would never squander it like this. If her ancestors learned she was desperately channeling it just to beat the heat, they'd claw their way out of their graves.
'No... I can't speak up!'
Bukgung Hye still couldn't erase the memory of that day when the Snow Clan Yang and North Wind Squad were utterly annihilated. An unbelievable spectacle, even with her own eyes. The North Wind Squad was one of the palace's main forces. And Snow Clan Yang was numbered among North Sea's top experts, even by her father's admission.
'A traitor, sure—but Snow Clan Yang was strong!'
Ambush or not, details like that were irrelevant. North Sea's creed held survivors as the strong. To earn recognition as a powerhouse, one had to live. That was the unyielding foundation sustaining the North Sea.
'He's not someone you ambush and take down easily.'
Then what did that make her? Just a predictable pawn in the board.
Setting that aside, the Void Grasp and Samadhi True Fire he displayed that day were spectacles she'd never forget in a lifetime. Was that even humanly possible?
'Father at his peak...?'
She couldn't deny it outright. She believed not, but the opponent was a monster who hadn't broken a sweat. Wielding such vast power should have shown at least a quiver in his breath.
This man dispatched it like a post-meal snack. The North Wind Squad might as well have been livestock herded to the slaughterhouse. Boasting kill me, beat me before the butcher? Mockery was inevitable. How utterly pathetic must they have seemed?
As a fellow North Sea denizen, it shamed her to the core.
"Hey."
"...?"
"Feel like dying?"
The abrupt death sentence jolted Bukgung Hye wide awake; she frantically shook her head.
"No! Why?"
"Cold's getting weak."
Aaah!
Rebuked for sloppy control, she refined the Ice White Asura Divine Art with greater precision.
Too intense, and this guy wouldn't let it slide. She'd once let her focus lapse and taken a forehead flick that nearly sent her into the void. At first, she thought her skull had been pierced by an ultimate Finger Art.
'Haa... what kind of predicament is this?!'
Deep self-loathing washed over her at having to deploy her ice art just to fend off heat. But an even greater irritation gnawed at her.
'Unfair! He doesn't even feel the heat!'
This man was clearly impervious to heat. Traversing the sun-baked desert, not a drop of sweat. For such a guy to whine about the swelter shattered her sanity.
"Martial arts are really convenient, huh."
"Thinking of learning some?"
"As if I'd get the chance."
"Fair enough."
As Mujin and Makho's pointless banter dragged on, Bukgung Hye's blood pressure skyrocketed. She was wringing out her last dregs of energy to circulate her qi, while these two lounged carefree. The world was profoundly unfair.
"Got family?"
"What woman would build a life with a lowly guide like me? Even the ones I liked didn't stick around long."
"Yeah, money's king. Not much tops it in this world."
"True enough. And you, sir?"
"Me? Totally ordinary. Got a wife like a heavenly fairy, a daughter so cute she hurts my eyes, and just a son."
"Must be nice."
Ordinary, his foot.
Pretending to be some earnest family man. Makho aside, no one in this ger saw Mujin as ordinary.
No regular head of household casually wielded Void Grasp and Samadhi True Fire like bodily functions. If that's ordinary, then there are no extraordinary people left in the world.