Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 21
>Chapter Title: Side Effects (3)
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Oh no.
I'd been so focused on the flattery that I'd forgotten to put down the sword in my hand.
"Th-that's..."
As I stammered for just a moment, my senior brother's face, which had looked so pleased, rapidly cooled to an icy chill.
If things went on like this, he might swing his sword at me, thinking I'd been toying with him.
In the midst of that ominous haze clouding my mind, I blurted out the first excuse that came to me.
"Th-there was a mosquito, Senior Brother!"
"A mosquito?"
"Yes. I grabbed my sword to catch the mosquito."
"You catch a mosquito with a sword?"
"Y-yes! Even the tiniest object or insect must be sliced precisely—it's training for that. Master said that your Shadowless Fourteen Hands can even cut a single strand of hair fluttering in the sky with perfect precision, and that I should take you as my example."
"Hahaha. Did Master say that too?"
"Y-yes, Senior Brother!"
At my response, the chill on my senior brother's face melted away, replaced once more by a smile.
Even in the shadows, his crescent-moon curved eyes and the flash of teeth were proof enough.
The moment I inwardly sighed in relief at the sight.
Swish.
A cold sound whispered past my ear.
"......"
My body froze solid as I glanced sideways, and there on the floor lay a mosquito sliced clean in two.
"Did you see it well? I just demonstrated the first form of Shadowless Fourteen Hands for you. Ponder your senior brother's sword well, and perfect your precise swordsmanship."
Buoyed by his risen self-esteem, he put on a fine show of being the exemplary senior brother.
But.
'What the hell was there to see? I couldn't even imitate it because I didn't see a thing.'
Even now, my heart pounded like a drum.
'Good thing I didn't scream...'
That single stroke had made it clear.
At my current level, I couldn't block Third Senior Brother's sword—hell, I couldn't even track its motion with my eyes.
The moment Third Senior Brother decided to kill me, my head might roll before I even realized I was dead.
Maybe it was because my daily grind of routine had diluted it.
My sharp awareness of just how many terrifying monster-level masters lurked in this cult full of lunatics.
As I inwardly reaffirmed that fading alertness.
"Thanks to you, Junior Brother, it's been a pleasant time. I'll drop by now and then from here on."
My senior brother offered his farewell.
"Uh, come anytime, Senior Brother."
I replied that way to survive, and he bared his teeth gleaming in the moonlight as he left his final words.
"Right. It's late—go to sleep."
Surprisingly, by the time the last words "go to sleep" reached me, my senior brother's figure was nowhere to be seen in the room anymore.
'...Fuck. My heart's still pounding—how the hell am I supposed to sleep?'
The thought that this crazy senior brother might still be lurking hidden and watching kept me from voicing it aloud.
* * *
The next day around noon.
Having sorted through the morning's major and minor affairs of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, the Heavenly Demon headed to the Black Cloud Pavilion where his third disciple, Seo Wan-pyeong, was staying.
He visited his youngest disciple Il-mok every day at the hour of the sheep for lessons, but he didn't lavish that kind of attention on his other disciples.
The position of Heavenly Demon didn't leave much spare time, and besides, there was nothing left for him to teach his first and third disciples anyway.
Once one reached Extreme Demon realm, the only way to surpass their limits was through personal enlightenment.
So unlike with Il-mok, he just dropped by occasionally for simple chats.
"Greetings, Master."
"Yes. How's the work at the Shadow Pavilion going?"
And as it often was when older adults chatted with the young, what they considered "light conversation" usually revolved around work.
"Has there been any progress with your Shadowless Fourteen Hands?"
Or talk of training and studies.
Whether disciple or cult member, he was a benevolent Heavenly Demon to all the faithful below him—but an incurable old fogey nonetheless.
They conversed much as usual for a while.
The Heavenly Demon tilted his head slightly, stroked his beard, and asked.
"Hmm. Wan-pyeong. Has something good happened to put you in high spirits lately?"
Seo Wan-pyeong's face bore its usual heavy shadow, the gloomy expression unchanged.
But the Heavenly Demon, who had spent over twenty years with him since becoming disciples, could tell.
That Seo Wan-pyeong was in quite a good mood right now.
'It feels like the mood he had back during his Entering Demon days, before reaching Extreme Demon.'
Years of negative thoughts had etched a negative aura into his very face.
Yet as a child, Seo Wan-pyeong had been a disciple who could smile normally enough.
Caught by his master's keen eye, Seo Wan-pyeong nearly blurted out "As expected!"
'Master has been watching me! Just like the youngest said.'
His self-esteem, shattered by his ever-negative thought patterns, recovered just a tiny bit.
All the more so because it was the great Heavenly Demon—his master—paying attention.
Feeling buoyed, Seo Wan-pyeong started to recount last night's talk with the youngest, but he suddenly recalled an important fact.
'Right! The youngest said Master is strict in front of each disciple but praises them behind their backs.'
In that case, there was no need to tell Master about the conversation with the youngest.
It would be like tattling that he and the youngest had figured out Master's disciplinary methods.
"Ahem. It's just that the weather's nice today, so I'm in a good mood for some reason, Master."
"Oh ho. That's a very positive sign. Perhaps your Shadowless Fourteen Hands is about to break through a wall."
The closer one got to Extreme Demon with Shadowless Fourteen Hands, the more they suffered negative thoughts and persecutory delusions.
For his third disciple, who had mastered such a technique, to feel good just because the weather was nice.
Master burst into a hearty laugh in front of him for the first time in ages, and Seo Wan-pyeong's lips twitched upward uncontrollably.
'Master is proud of me!'
Feeling better than he had in ages, Seo Wan-pyeong pondered how to make Master even happier.
How to make Master even prouder of him.
That line of thought naturally brought last night's chat with Il-mok to mind.
'Right! Master said my Shadowless Fourteen Hands is so superb it can slice even the tiniest object with precision!'
Having thought of a way to please Master, Seo Wan-pyeong twisted his gloomy lips into a smile.
"Master!"
"Yes, Third."
Uncharacteristically, Seo Wan-pyeong called out to Master in a fairly loud voice, and as Master's gaze turned to him.
Pluck!
He yanked out a clump of his own hair.
He released his grip, and the strands drifted into the wind, swirling through the air.
Swish!
Then, with no sound or visible arc, the sword Seo Wan-pyeong had drawn and sheathed produced a belated slicing sound.
Before long, every one of the thin strands he'd plucked and scattered had been chopped into dozens of pieces, falling to the floor.
The skill to precisely slice every drifting hair mid-air. And the draw and sheathing so swift and subtle that ordinary eyes couldn't even catch it.
Having displayed the ultimate technique of Shadowless Fourteen Hands at the Extreme Demon level, Seo Wan-pyeong looked at Master with an uncharacteristically proud expression.
As if urging him to praise it.
And the Heavenly Demon, having watched his pitiable third disciple's stunt in full.
"......"
Stared at Seo Wan-pyeong with a look that said, what the hell has gotten into this guy all of a sudden.
"......"
"......"
Master and disciple exchanged awkward silent gazes for a moment.
Pluck.
Swish!
Wondering if his display had been lacking, Seo Wan-pyeong yanked out another clump of hair, scattered it into the air, and sliced it.
How long had he gone on plucking and slicing, making holes in his scalp.
"Ahem. Ah, that's quite an impressive skill."
Having watched the mad act in a daze for a while, the Heavenly Demon muttered in a half-hearted tone.
"Hahaha. Thank you, Master! I'll keep refining it."
Having finally earned Master's praise, Seo Wan-pyeong grinned brightly, forgetting even the pain of yanking out his straight hair.
"Y-yes. Keep at it diligently."
"Yes! I'll perfect Shadowless Fourteen Hands and bring back the head of that Martial Alliance Leader for sure!"
"Ahem. Yes. I'll trust in you."
Replying to Seo Wan-pyeong with a complicated expression, the Heavenly Demon hastily excused himself from the Black Cloud Pavilion on some urgent business.
'It seems he hasn't broken through to Extreme Demon after all—he's fallen into Demonic Deviation.'
The Heavenly Demon suspected his poor third disciple had finally gone mad.
'No helping it. I'll have to increase the guards around Third.'
It wasn't to protect the third disciple.
It was guards to suppress him if he went berserk in his madness.
* * *
After that unexpected nocturnal guest, I suddenly had a very important worry on my hands.
More precisely, a problem I'd been trying to ignore had resurfaced as a major concern.
'I need to prepare for something.'
It wasn't about the Demonic Path Academy entrance exam.
'Or I might end up like that crazy senior brother.'
Third Senior Brother Seo Wan-pyeong's behavior a few days ago was abnormal by any standard.
Sure, how many normal people were there in this cult of fanatic zealots anyway...
'I got too used to it without realizing.'
That realization sparked my wariness of how naturally I'd accepted it.
Especially since the side effect of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword I was practicing bore a striking similarity to his.
The high risk of shattered self-esteem.
I recalled a story from my Seo Ji-hoon days. Apparently, many famous, successful artists, entrepreneurs, or film directors were "perfectionists."
And those types suffered immense stress in pursuit of perfection.
Of course, that perfectionism and stress led them to create masterpieces or achieve massive business success.
But the biggest problem came when they set impossibly perfect goals.
In those cases, perfectionists ended up feeling like bugs or trash for failing to reach them.
So, rather than becoming a successful entrepreneur, director, or artist perfectionist.
There was a strong chance I'd end up like Third Senior Brother—a lunatic with obliterated self-esteem.
To avoid that fate, I needed some countermeasures.
A way not to become a madman chasing impossible perfection.
The only issue was.
'Why the hell am I agonizing over this in the dead of night?'
"Sigh. I really am trash, aren't I, Junior Brother? Master must not trust me, so he's increased the guards again."
At the gloomy voice of the senior brother who'd gifted me that awareness, I sighed deeply inwardly and opened my mouth.
"On the contrary, it seems like it's because he trusts you, Senior Brother. Didn't you pledge to Master to kill the Martial Alliance Leader? Your martial arts are specialized for assassination, so it's probably Master's arrangement to train you for infiltrating the Martial Alliance."
"Indeed! If I can't even slip past a dozen guards, how could I assassinate the Leader hiding in the Alliance's heart? To think I couldn't grasp such profound intent from Master and twisted his meaning instead—I'm truly a worm."
I said to my senior brother, who was digging another pit for himself.
"What are you saying, Senior Brother! People naturally spot others' flaws easily but are blind to their own. Romance is the same way, isn't it?"
"I've never experienced romance. As expected, you must have been popular since you were young, Junior Brother."
Damn. Was that a trap too?
"I-I only heard it somewhere. And everyone has their own specialties. I'm good at reading people's inner thoughts, while you're skilled at dissecting their flesh. Even if I trained as obsessively as you up to your age, assassinating the Leader would be impossible for me."
"Sigh. You're right, Junior Brother. It's amazing. After talking with you, my mind always calms, and the demonic energy gnawing at my brain recedes. I'll drop by whenever I'm struggling from now on."
I forced a smile and replied to Third Senior Brother, who spoke as if I were his sole savior.
"Hahaha. You're welcome anytime, but... could you maybe come during the day?"
Otherwise, it wouldn't be martial arts side effects—it'd be sleep deprivation driving me insane.