Chapter 61

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 61

Chapter Title: Geum Sihyeon's Advance (2)

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Deceiving the World and the People—

Kakwon had never placed much stock in the Mind-Image Sword Debate to begin with.

Having passed the vigorous years of his late thirties and thirties, when a man establishes himself.

Now approaching the age of unshakeable wisdom, where the world's illusions no longer sway him.

He had only participated at the urging of his master, Abbot Wolryun of Shaolin, hoping to find some insight by comparing notes with the swordsmen of the four seas.

However.

Right now, his composure was crumbling.

It wasn't that his cultivation was shallow.

He wasn't furious at the deliberate flaunting of openings with every cheeky step, every provocative motion.

He didn't even mind the final blow that deliberately targeted the head when other spots were available.

It could be seen as the overzealousness of an orthodox martial artist drunk on victory.

Yes.

The transgression of an orthodox martial artist.

But was his opponent truly one?

That final strike, just before the end.

When pure yang energy, felt only as righteous, and an insidious yin energy never shown before, burrowed into his chest.

The energy itself was unmistakably pure.

But it was utterly different from standard internal energy control or penetration techniques.

Yin and yang twisted into reverse taiji within his body, birthing something heaven-defying.

Like a demonic art.

The reason it felt pure was likely because, within the Mind-Image Sword Debate, the inherent viciousness of demonic arts couldn't fully manifest.

No matter the truce between righteous and demonic to avoid open war, the Debate was still an orthodox martial event.

The pillars of the orthodox world couldn't kneel to someone brazenly wielding demonic arts.

"Master, forgive me. I swore never to draw it again..."

In the waiting room.

Kakwon abandoned his bare-handed stance and picked up his staff.

"Roar, Subduer of Demons Zen Staff."

Where did our bald monk get scratched, I wonder.

Probably that last-minute instant takoyaki spike, right?

The scratch itself was good for me.

But him suddenly pulling out a weapon? That's a fire alarm.

80% of my anti-baldy tactics, honed to perfection, assumed close-quarters brawling. Straight to the trash now.

Even the secret move my Sword Demon master tipped me off about? Bubbles burst.

Still, combining fire and ice arts for stacking damage seemed versatile.

Dual flame and ice sword style is the future, after all.

My dreams weren't wrong.

Riiiing—!

The bell signaling the match's start snapped me from my thoughts. I focused on the bald monk's movements.

Unlike last time's rush to close distance, he now maximized his weapon's reach to control positioning.

Now I had to close in to thrust my sword.

Whooosh—!

The heavy stone staff cleaved the air with a weighty whoosh.

A simple swing, yet the air warped around it, pressure surging in.

"Tch."

I maxed out Shadowless Step to barely evade the attack range.

Boom!

"No, that crazy baldy bastard."

The moment he slammed the staff into the ground.

Lotus flowers bloomed from beneath my feet, hindering my movement.

Does this make sense?

Not some starcolony— just a staff strike, and flowers sprout from the floor?

Flashy martial arts effects. Worst mode. JOAT.

If I ever return to the real world, I'll smash that modder's plate. Vowing that, I hurriedly danced my feet.

I was a single swallow.

Skipping like water striders: tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Blazing a trail while firing palm strikes nonstop.

I couldn't rack up meaningful damage, but slowing him even a bit was enough.

Clang!

Sword met staff in a harsh metallic ring.

I dodged the head-aimed swing and slipped in a slash, but met indestructible diamond.

But 1st round proved diamond isn't absolute. Alternating yang and yin on the same spot should break it eventually.

That's what I thought.

Amitabha—!

Until a phantom chant filled my head and the baldy split into nine—

While Zhuge Ryong squealed over the relatively low-level technique, Jang Geon calmly assessed the situation.

Techniques called divine ultimate arts share traits.

Hard to learn, harder to deepen insight.

Often demand vast internal energy to deploy.

Like the Nangong Family's Sovereign Sword Form.

True to its name, wielding a single sword to dominate the world requires harmony realm-level energy.

And as Jang Geon knew—

Lotus Throne Nine Grades consumed immense energy to handle nine clones simultaneously.

Two possibilities.

Mimicking the form to hide real attacks in feints.

Or unleashing the full art for a quick finish.

Either way, unbecoming of a martial monk.

Someone at the pinnacle with fists alone suddenly grabs a staff? Surprising. And now Nine Grades for a mere Debate?

"Curious about Samsunggano's judgment. He knows not every fight needs direct confrontation."

Jang Geon's mind held half worry, half expectation.

No orthodox Nine Great Sects or Ten Great Families vibe. Likely mid-tier sect like himself.

Yet his arts were freeform, unbound—a true grandmaster in the making.

The chat left praises in their own ways for the rare sight.

Soon.

The nine split Deceivers swarmed Samsunggano in perfect unison.

Swinging staffs, slamming ground for lotuses, leg kicks at lower openings, ranged Tathagata Divine Palms, finger strikes at shoulders, blunt punches.

Samsunggano, flickering like a candle in wind, chose...

"Aaaah! He shows ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his back! Samsungganooo! Truly like Yeobongseon fleeing the Three Yu Brothers' onslaught—a despicably clever retreatttt!"

"Oh. Wise young man."

To flee.

Shoulder pierced, left arm shattered and dangling from staff hit.

Yet he tenaciously preserved his legs, swiftly widening the gap.

His craven flight halted the Deceiver momentarily.

Then, mouths flapping like shouting, they pursued.

The sudden chase unfolded.

But Samsunggano wasn't just running; he swung his good right arm, firing palm strikes to hinder pursuit.

Samsunggano and nine Deceivers raced across the field.

No dead end, unfortunately.

First Baldy downed by palm strike.

Second fizzled from energy drain.

Third hurled staff at back, merely grazing side.

Ten fighters reduced to pursuing Baldies and fleeing coward.

No further incidents.

Until only three Baldies left—

Samsunggano lightning-drew his sheathed sword, slashing wide horizontally.

Nearly full power.

His previously plain strikes now blazed brilliantly for the first time.

From the blade tip rose a mythical divine beast.

"Vermiliiiion Birrrrrd! Vermilion Bird rises! Even I feel the scorching extreme heat aaaah!"

Zhuge Ryong's fuss and reactions from those who'd seen 'sword-summoning firebird arts' erupted.

Vermilion Bird cleanly erased one unable to dodge, swallowed another lacking defense.

Finally.

It gaped wide at the last true Deceiver.

Roooar—!

But Deceiver had reserves.

All internal energy united in Buddha-mind, unleashed forward palm.

Boom—!

Extreme Tathagata Divine Palm clashed head-on with Vermilion Bird in thunderous roar.

Both figures rebounded.

Politely: mutual destruction.

Bluntly: both lose.

But flesh is mortal, spirit eternal.

Virtual bodies allowed the battered duo to stagger up.

And.

The flashy battle vanished—

Sword and staff met simply.

Weapon difference?

Samsunggano's sword snapped futilely.

"Aaaah! Overpowered in strength! Is this the end, Samsungganooo!"

But that instant.

Samsunggano's empty left hand twitched faintly.

Invisible to spectators.

A soft butterfly wingbeat carrying chill rose.

Drifting to touch the still-searing Deceiver.

Deceiver's knees buckled.

Brief silence.

Then.

"No, wait! Deceiver falls first! Overexertion of energy? Deceiver down! Samsunggano claims back-to-back win, straight to quarters aaaah!"

Zhuge Ryong's roar unleashed the chat flood anew.

Kakwon sat dazed briefly, then quietly removed his Debate gear.

"Amitabha..."

The chant mixed with a groan.

His participation was an open secret.

Not one for attention, he preferred secluded meditation in a humble hermitage.

So no one around.

Or shouldn't have been.

"Is it over?"

"Master..."

Wolryun's voice from behind made Kakwon whirl, palms together in salute.

Wolryun's enigmatic smile gazed steadily.

"What made you so hasty?"

Kakwon couldn't answer the koan immediately.

First: no-mind.

Then: faint anger.

Followed by: impatience.

With: delight.

Last: ...

"Disciple failed to conquer competitive spirit. Cultivation still lacking."

Misunderstanding of demonic arts cleared midway.

Then pure unleashing of his arts.

Show this? Counter that? What if he flees? Maxed Peak-level energy accordingly.

Yet he knelt last.

Wary of formless palms.

But depleted, he never imagined opponent had any left.

"Amitabha. Kakwon. Didn't I teach the world vast, experts abound? If age matched, I'd send you to Hundred Flowers Academy. Awkward timing."

Wolryun consoled with gentle smile.

In Shaolin.

Peerless even in jianghu.

This experience invaluable.

"Enough. Shaolin win would've drawn 'Great Return Pill favoritism' cries. Better this way."

"But Master..."

"Defeat stains Shaolin's name. Punishment due."

Kakwon's face stiffened at Wolryun's words.

However.

The follow-up was unexpected.

"Wolryun's brother seeks external arts instructor for academy. Winner likely from there—deliver prize yourself, tour world two months."

"...Understood."

Wolryun left the hermitage, Kakwon's conflicted expression behind.

Dejected now.

But meeting winner? Competitive fire reignite.

To grow his clumsy disciple into better monk, purer warrior—why begrudge a pill for another?

Bright full moon risen.

Beside it, ominous Heaven-Slaying Lone Star gleamed.

"Amitabha..."

Wolryun sensed jianghu's peace nearing end.

Is today's martial world ready for chaos?