Chapter 216
Chapter 216
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 216
>Chapter Title: Cavern (7)
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As if she wasn't disappointed at all about failing to kill Guyangmun, Jin Ha-yeon added her words.
“If you have time to spout nonsense, use that time to swing your saber once more.”
At Jin Ha-yeon's rebuke, Guyangmun laughed heartily in response.
“Hahaha! Since Ha-yeon froze them, I'll handle the cleanup!”
Swinging his saber at the resentful spirits slowed by the ice technique, Guyangmun thought to himself.
Slash!
Their perfect coordination proved they were soulmates, without a doubt.
Whether Guyangmun harbored such deranged thoughts or not, Jin Ha-yeon scanned their surroundings with calm eyes.
‘They really keep coming without end.’
For every resentful spirit she froze and Guyangmun diligently hacked apart, the Four Commanders Blood Ghost Formation spat out new ones.
But she felt no sense of hopelessness or anxiety.
“Hoo.”
Stabilizing her internal energy with deep breaths, she simply drew up yin energy from her dantian once more.
Because she trusted Il-mok, who was wielding his sword behind her.
* * *
Boom!!
A thunderous roar echoed along Il-mok's sword as it clashed with the blood-red energy barrier.
Gazing at Il-mok, who was drawing out sword aura to crush the blood qi barrier, the Ghost Valley Demon let out a sneer.
“Heh heh heh. What a fool. If you'd fought the blood ghosts with the strength you're using to target me, you might have held out until the end.”
Though the Ghost Valley Demon was sneering, he too was ceaselessly pouring energy into the wooden tablet, albeit with far more leisure than Il-mok.
The difference stemmed from their vastly unequal training periods—not to mention the human sacrifices he'd performed—granting him a surplus of energy.
Il-mok clicked his tongue lightly at the enemy's mocking.
“Tch.”
The opponent's leisure grated on him, but the words held some truth.
Even now, Guyangmun and Jin Ha-yeon were battling the resentful spirits to protect him.
The same went for those fighting in the rear.
By engaging the Ghost Valley Demon in a contest of strength, he'd effectively lost one hand, increasing the burden on his comrades.
Yet Il-mok harbored no regrets over his choice.
As the fiend said, they might endure until the formation's energy depleted. But doing so would surely cost the lives of some among them.
‘I won't let what happened that day repeat, no matter what.’
What Il-mok recalled was the memory from the Demonic Path Academy.
The day they were ambushed by Ala's fanatics.
But as the fiend pointed out, brute-forcing a contest of strength was futile.
Recovering his sword, Il-mok calmed his demonic qi with deep breaths.
“Hoo.”
Abandoning the simple brute-force struggle, he swung his sword repeatedly at various points on the energy barrier, seeking an opening.
Yet no matter where he struck, the result was the same.
A grating friction sound, or a light popping noise—nothing more. Not even a crack appeared in the barrier.
The lack of a massive boom was because no sword aura coated Il-mok's blade.
Even after absorbing the millennium lesser yang root, Il-mok—still short of Transcending Demon—couldn't spam sword aura.
And unluckily, sword qi alone couldn't even scratch the barrier.
‘Its power isn't concentrated in any one spot.’
The Ghost Valley Demon's blood qi barrier took the form of a sphere, boasting uniform strength from all directions.
Having grasped the blood qi barrier's nature, Il-mok lowered his sword and gazed at it with steady eyes.
“Heh heh heh. Given up already?”
The Ghost Valley Demon's sneer wormed into Il-mok's ears, but he ignored it.
Il-mok was utterly absorbed in a single question.
‘I need a stronger strike.’
One single strike capable of piercing that blood qi barrier.
Squandering energy on futile attempts would mean missing the real chance when it came.
Thus, Il-mok dropped his sword entirely, focusing solely on that question.
But it was far too abstract.
‘What does "strong" even mean?’
To unravel this abstract puzzle, Il-mok willingly closed his eyes and sank into the depths of his mindscape.
“Kieeeek!”
Resentful spirits' shrieks rang out around him, ominous energies swirling from all sides.
Yet just as his comrades trusted him to deal with the Ghost Valley Demon, Il-mok trusted them to protect him.
* * *
Deep within the mindscape world.
-Pour all your energy into it!
-Create even denser sword aura! Use every drop of prenatal qi if you must!
The side effect, now slightly smaller than before, was raising a racket.
Ignoring its cries, Il-mok raised his right hand.
In the mindscape, a sword had appeared in his grip.
As if relearning the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword from scratch, he began executing its forms within the mindscape.
‘Forms emphasizing rigidity include the first two, Soul-Splitting Sword and Shadow-Pressing Strike. And in the latter forms…’
After executing rigidity-focused forms several times, Il-mok transitioned to others.
‘But does simply infusing more power make it stronger? If the goal is cutting, the Shredding Wind Spirit-Cleaving Hand might be better for extreme sharpness…’
Executing forms by their principles or blending multiple, Il-mok advanced toward a fundamental question.
‘That bastard Dokgo Pae wielded his sword like this.’
Before long, Il-mok strayed from the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, incorporating other sword arts and saber arts.
Dokgo Pae's Lone Valley Nine Swords. Tyrannical techniques like Senior Brother Wi Jin-hak's Explosive Demon Net Sword Art.
Though he didn't know the exact chants, he could approximate each demonic art's form and intent from what he'd observed.
How long had he danced this sword dance, forgetting even the distinction between forms and arts?
‘Swinging with force doesn't make it rigid. Rigidity can arise from speed or softness.’
Swinging faster naturally strengthened it, as did harnessing elastic momentum softly.
And this wasn't limited to the body.
‘Qi is the same.’
He'd varied his sword qi applications before—why couldn't he infuse sword aura with principles?
Of course, an immense gap existed between sword aura and sword qi.
Forming sword aura alone demanded vast mental effort, drawing on countless insights.
Having glimpsed a realm beyond his reach, Il-mok boldly circulated his internal energy.
Vast internal energy surged from his dantian at his will, racing through his meridians.
Il-mok's eyes snapped open, emerging from the mindscape depths.
* * *
‘What is he doing?’
The Ghost Valley Demon pondered the intruder standing before him with eyes closed.
The posture seemed utterly defenseless.
‘Should I attack him now…?’
The urge kept rising, but he couldn't act rashly.
Not because of the two allies diligently shielding the intruder from blood ghosts.
The distance between him and the defenseless fool was too close.
The Dark Blood Strong Barrier perfectly blocked external attacks—and internal energies heading outward.
To strike the intruder, the Ghost Valley Demon would have to dispel the blood qi barrier.
‘It might be a trap to lure me in.’
At this range, against a master of that caliber, dropping the barrier meant his head could fly before he cast his spell.
Thus, he agonized over standing pat or attacking, but.
With nearly half a shichen—thirty minutes—passed since the fool closed his eyes, such dilemmas had vanished.
“Heh heh heh. Thanks to you standing there like an idiot, your comrades will all become blood ghosts soon.”
In that half shichen, the intruders had slaughtered countless blood ghosts.
The formation's ghostly qi had dwindled by nearly half as a result.
But.
“Sip. Hoo.”
“Hah. Hah.”
The intruders' breaths grew ragged from nonstop combat with the blood ghosts.
The two spreading saber qi and crafting ice flowers with yin energy had begun conserving power as much as possible.
Not from enlightenment—simply because their internal energy was running low, a desperate measure.
Those in the rear had no severe wounds, but scratches accumulated one by one.
A female expert wielding bizarre thread techniques guarded them, yet even she was depleting her internal energy.
As their wounds mounted, the formation would recover via their blood. All he had to do was wait.
The moment the Ghost Valley Demon reached that conclusion.
Flash.
Il-mok's eyes, closed for so long, flew open.
Guided by the insight glimpsed beyond the "wall," his body thrust the sword.
Desultory Force.
Like a puppet with cut strings, all bodily strength vanished—then surged precisely along the optimal path for the thrust.
Harnessing softness's principle for elasticity, power amplified from his toes, through legs and waist, to shoulder and wrist.
Paradoxically, by the final motion, it carried twice his normal strength.
Nor was it mere fleshly motion.
Matching his body's movement, Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword's demonic qi raced through his meridians—beyond fixed paths, sometimes soft, sometimes rigid, sometimes swift.
At the peak of this amplified internal-external power, denser sword aura blazed from Il-mok's sword tip.
‘Sword aura isn't just formed and done!’
Il-mok's utmost focus infused rigidity's principle into the gathered sword aura.
Boom!!!
A colossal roar erupted as his sword tip met the blood qi barrier.
‘Impossible!?’
Cracks spiderwebbed across the entire barrier like an egg, leaving the Ghost Valley Demon aghast. He hastily circulated energy to reinforce the Dark Blood Strong Barrier.
Screeeee!
But Il-mok was already swinging laterally.
Applying fragments of his newfound insight.
He redirected the rebound from the clash via softness, unleashing a swifter slash than usual.
Due to an insight beyond his level? The prior massive impact?
Blood streamed from Il-mok's seven apertures.
Crack!!
His lateral slash pierced the blood qi barrier in an instant.
Clang!
But his sword shattered, unable to withstand the shock.
It had cracked long ago from repeated clashes.
Amid churning internal energy, brain-searing pain from forcing sword aura.
Il-mok ignored the agony, stepping forward.
Due to peak concentration?
He clearly sensed panic in the Ghost Valley Demon's eyes. The scene of him hurling the cracked Dark Blood Strong Barrier and hastily forming hand seals unfolded in slow motion.
Why was that?
As everything including the Ghost Valley Demon slowed.
Il-mok's qi raced through his body at normal speed, gathering at his fingertips.
Like wielding a sword, his left hand—forming hand qi—carved a single trajectory through the slowed world.
“Cough.”
Right after, overflowing disrupted internal energy made Il-mok spew a mouthful of blood, and the world resumed its pace.
Slash.
A delayed cutting sound followed, as the Ghost Valley Demon's head began tumbling to the ground.
Eyes unaware of its own death.