Chapter 171
Chapter 171
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 171
>Chapter Title: Extreme Demon (1)
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Opening my eyes, what I saw was the familiar ceiling.
“Sigh. It's not like some annual event.”
Every year—no, about every half year—I muttered while staring at the medical hall ceiling I kept encountering, and a familiar voice came drifting in.
“You're awake.”
“!?”
I jolted in surprise and whipped my head around to see my Master gazing down at me.
As I hurriedly tried to sit up and pay my respects, my Master spoke first.
“That's enough. The heart matters more than outward shows. You won't turn this old man into a foolish geezer who demands formalities from the gravely wounded, will you? Heh heh heh.”
His insistence that he wasn't some out-of-touch old-timer made him look exactly like one.
Unaware that he was the very picture of it, my Master peered down at me with a complicated expression.
It was a mix of delight and worry.
“Come to think of it, 'annual event'.... You're not wrong. Considering how often you come and go from this medical hall.”
“Hahaha... I guess I'm just a bit unlucky, Master.”
“Unlucky, you say....”
My Master stroked his beard with an odd look on his face before speaking.
“I'm not sure if it's bad luck or good. Considering your rate of growth.”
I had a vague idea of what he meant.
Some Western philosopher once said that what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
And in my opinion, the most straightforward embodiment of that maxim was that world-famous manga, DragonX.
In other words.
'I'm no Son Goku.'
Every time I nearly died, I got stronger, so my Master wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Of course, from my perspective, it was utter bullshit.
Getting stronger every time I nearly croaked wasn't something I wanted at all.
'I hate nearly dying, and I hate getting stronger too.'
The former was obvious, and as for the latter, I wanted to avoid the damn side effects.
This time, though, to avoid dying, I'd had no choice but to get stronger.
Was it because I recalled the moments right before blacking out?
That final sword strike from the last instant lingered hazily in my mind.
But it wasn't clear. Like it was shrouded in a foggy mist.
The urge to swing my sword right now just to clear that fog away was overwhelming.
My body twitched involuntarily. Strangely, though, I felt no pain.
I distinctly remembered thrashing my body around like a mad dog in that last fight with the fanatic leader.
“Master. Do you know how long it's been since I was brought to the medical hall?”
“Close to a month has passed.”
“!?”
I'd been out cold for a whole month.
“When you were first carried in, do you know how startled this old man was? But now you're looking so healthy—truly a relief.”
Every muscle in my body had been twisted, and with severe internal injuries, scarcely any acupoints were intact, my Master added.
“The Demonic Physician and this old man worked nonstop for days to barely pull you through. Heh heh heh.”
My Master had used his profound inner energy to regulate my qi and blood, while the Demonic Physician came whenever he could, jabbing acupuncture needles to treat my internal injuries and muscles?
Thanks to my Master constantly protecting my qi and blood like that, by the fourth day, I'd stabilized somewhat.
And now, over twenty days later, I'd finally woken up.
As he recounted that perilous moment with a face full of concern, my Master was now gazing down at me with a pleased expression once more.
“But you survived, so that's a blessing.”
“Indeed, Master.”
“Heh heh heh. On top of that, I heard the tales. Seems you made great gains in this fight.”
“...My memory's fuzzy. Not certain.”
“Hmm. Then tell me about the true essence of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword that you comprehended.”
I furrowed my brow, trying to recall that day.
My memory of the final strike was hazy, but the process of fighting that fanatic leader was somewhat clear.
And the insights I'd gained during it were somewhat remembered too.
“In my view, the progenitor who created the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword must have been a Sword Maniac, or perhaps a Sword Madman.”
“Oh? What makes you say that?”
To my Master, who asked with shining eyes, I calmly opened my mouth.
The first fourteen forms of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword discuss.
How to swing the sword swiftly. How to swing it powerfully. How to swing it accurately. How to smoothly deflect the opponent's sword. How to unleash feints to deceive the foe.
Just fourteen forms, yet they encompassed countless sword subtleties, from strength, speed, softness, and redirection onward.
Unlike other martial arts that push one or two subtleties to the extreme, it sought to embrace every subtlety possible with the sword.
The latter eight forms were much the same. The only difference was that they were techniques executed not with the physical sword, but with sword qi.
In short, the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword aimed to compile every technique and subtlety possible with sword and qi.
Furthermore.
“It didn't just aim to execute various techniques and subtleties separately—it sought to harmonize them all into one.”
Unlike other sword arts that dreamed of the 'mightiest single strike' or the 'swiftest single strike,'
Or like those righteous sect arts that mimicked plum blossoms or sought to embody the Taiji,
The Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword was a mad art that truly pursued the 'completion of the sword.'
“Even utilizing that obsessive compulsion as a side effect.”
To achieve that completion, it was a mad art that drove its inheritor insane.
Thus, its creator could only have been a Sword Maniac who knew nothing but the sword—or a Sword Madman.
As I haltingly explained my insights on the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, my Master listened quietly without interrupting once. Surprisingly not acting like his usual self.
And right after I'd laid out all my realizations, my Master stroked his beard with a pleased look and spoke.
“Heh heh heh. I worried this old man had placed undue expectations on you, but as anticipated.”
“???”
Wondering what that meant, as question marks filled my eyes, my Master suddenly offered congratulations.
“Congratulations, disciple. You've begun to transcend the Extreme Demon of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword.”
“!? M-Me? I haven't even entered Extreme Demon, and you're saying I've started to transcend it?”
My eyes bulged wide at the news.
The reason I hated getting stronger. The reason I always slacked off at the Demonic Path Academy.
It was because I feared that damn side effect growing with my power.
It absolutely wasn't because I was inherently lazy.
But if I'd reached Extreme Demon, that meant the side effect was already at its peak.
Conversely, from now on, the stronger I got, the weaker the side effect would become.
'Training's such a hassle, though....'
Amid the mix of joy at the prospect of parting ways with that damn side effect and the irritation of the hassle,
My Master's voice snapped me back to attention.
“Hahaha. Yes. Your insights have already begun transcending Extreme Demon. The issue is that it's only your 'comprehension of the sword' that's transcended.”
Wondering what that meant, I looked at my Master, who kindly elaborated.
“Your mind is awakening to the true essence of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, but your body lacks the strength to endure that awakening.”
“!?”
“Even this old man, who's lived over a century, has never seen a case like yours—it's fascinating. Heh heh heh. So fascinating I even had some absurd thoughts.”
“Absurd thoughts? Like what?”
“Things from ancient tales, like possession arts or soul-swapping sorcery—absurd forbidden techniques where a grandmaster of old inhabits a child's body, showing symptoms like this. Heh heh heh.”
“......”
I nearly flinched without meaning to.
I wasn't some grandmaster of old, but I was possessed, after all.
“H-Hahaha. That's a ridiculous notion, Master.”
Worried the topic might drag on dangerously, I hurriedly changed the subject.
“Then, what should this disciple do from here?”
Seeming to dismiss possession or soul-swapping as nonsense, my Master answered without suspicion.
“Obviously, train. So your body can catch up to your insights.”
“You mean focus on external arts training?”
“Both external and internal arts are lacking. You need to expand your dantian and, through steady qi circulation, further strengthen your meridians.”
As he said that, my Master tilted his head and added,
“Come to think of it, it's strange. Your sword realm has advanced by leaps and bounds, yet your external and internal arts haven't improved much since the last time you were brought in.”
Then, as if realizing something, he let out a soft exclamation and drew his own conclusion.
“Seems you got so consumed by the side effects that you fixated solely on swordsmanship. Hmm. Indeed, that might explain these symptoms.”
I inwardly sighed in relief.
The reason my internal and external arts hadn't advanced much compared to last time was simple: I barely trained.
In that light, my swordsmanship should have stagnated too.
It was just that lunatics kept popping up trying to kill me, so my practical combat experience piled up uselessly.
Of course, if my Master found out I'd neglected training for months, who knew what horrors would ensue.
“Th-This incompetent disciple is deeply sorry for keep getting swayed by the demonic art's side effects.”
I happily blamed it all on the side effects.
- You vile bastard! Isn't it all because you're lazy?!
The damn side effect that woke up in my head with me was ranting something, but it was none of my concern.
Perhaps because I'd brought up the side effects, my Master grew solemn and spoke.
“Listen well, disciple.”
“I shall heed your words with utmost attention.”
“Your body can't keep up with your insights, so you're in quite a dangerous state now. As I said earlier, until your internal and external arts reach a level matching Extreme Demon, you must not touch a sword if at all possible.”
At my Master's advice, the side effect in my head threw a tantrum.
- Don't listen to that demon!!
- Sword! Grip the sword!! You must unleash that perfect single strike from before!!
It wasn't just a tantrum. Like a drug addict, my body shuddered uncontrollably, and the muscles in my right hand twitched. As if desperate to swing a sword right that instant.
Observing me, my Master furrowed his brow, infused his voice with inner energy, and bellowed.
“Gah!!”
The colossal demonic qi in that shout crushed the side effect, forcing it deep into the recesses of my mind.
With my body somewhat calmed, I cautiously spoke up.
An important issue had come to mind.
“Master. If I've been out for nearly a month, doesn't that mean field training's coming up again soon?”
“No need to worry about that. I'll inform the Academy Lord. From now on, devote the rest of your time at the Demonic Path Academy solely to training your internal and external arts.”
That was the moment I received an exemption from the Demonic Path Academy's curriculum.
In the end, life was all about connections.