Chapter 286
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 286
Chapter Title: Please, I Beg You.
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How strange, he thought to himself without realizing it.
Deep.
Firm.
Fierce.
Overflowing with vitality.
Delicate.
Soft.
Pure.
It wasn't just because of that indescribable sensation, hard to define with any word.
Even after battling the Seven Dragon Society for centuries, this was the first time he'd ever felt the energy of psionics.
And the irony that it was the eighth psionic essence they'd desperately sought all this time—it twisted his heart in complicated ways.
But right after that.
Rimon forgot his turmoil.
What mattered now was how to use this to save Myia.
There was no time to indulge in needless sentiment.
'This power...'
Like drawing forth his sword intent.
Or the way he wielded the power of the stars.
He tried to pull at its flow, but soon realized one fact.
'I can't control it at will.'
Part of the problem was that most of it had hardened over endless years, fossilized like stone.
But the real issue lay at the center of that flow: the Tower of Swords embedded there.
His Dragon-Slaying Sword, the foundation of everything he was.
The sword intent that opposed and rejected dragons was crushing the psionic power of the dragon.
'If I use the Seventy-Two Secret Arts, could I force it somehow?'
An even bigger problem was that his sword intent had fused with the psionics to some degree.
Like an ancient tree rooted in rock.
Or a pillar erected on bedrock.
His sword intent had grown upon the hardened psionics as its foundation, making it all the more solid.
Merely awakening the psionics might collapse centuries of built-up sword intent.
And even risking that wouldn't help.
Not for saving Myia, whose lifespan had already run out—physical wounds were one thing, but even the most recovery-focused of the Seventy-Two Secret Arts, the Immortality Energy Flow, couldn't manage it.
'If the Seventy-Two Secret Arts won't work...'
With that thought concluded.
Rimon opened his closed eyes.
And looked at Li Chingwei standing before him.
More precisely, at the box she was now reverently offering with both hands.
"...Did you bring it knowing this would happen from the start?"
"No, it was just in case."
"Thorough as ever. I like that."
A wry smile tugged at his lips as Rimon carefully laid Myia on the ground.
Then he opened the box.
Was it the magic infused by the Grand Witch and the Saint?
Or because it was one of the Seven Arcs?
In this space where all was rotting away under deadly poison, the Heartblack Violin alone maintained its dignified form.
Just before grasping it.
Rimon hesitated.
Moving his right arm brought excruciating pain surging up.
Of course, it was inevitable.
Having blocked Myia's attacks, his right arm was shattered from fingers to shoulder, bones broken and muscles torn.
For an ordinary person, the pain alone would have knocked them out cold long ago.
Playing the violin in this state was reckless, even for him.
But Rimon didn't withdraw his hand.
Crack.
Grinding his teeth.
Forcing down the pain.
Even as bones ground with every movement.
He finally placed the violin on his right shoulder and clamped it with his chin.
But that was the limit.
Even with his superhuman willpower and perfect control over his body, Rimon's right hand trembled uncontrollably while holding the violin.
Yet as he strained to steady it anyway, a slender hand reached from behind.
Gently overlapping his.
"...Princess, this is my duty."
"Yes. It's something only the Sword Duke can do, and something the Sword Duke must do."
She nodded slightly.
But didn't pull her hand away.
Instead, she steadied the violin with her delicate arm.
"But I'm your fiancée, at least in reserve."
Husband and wife are one body.
She couldn't play in his place, but let her at least help support it.
Even though just breathing in this toxic miasma was agony, she smiled softly as she spoke. Rimon gazed at her intently for a moment.
"Alright then. Please, I beg you."
In the end, Rimon chuckled.
Under the pouring rain.
Entrusting the violin to Li Chingwei.
With his left hand gripping the bow instead of the mangled right.
His trembling fingers barely resting on the strings—it looked a complete mess no matter how you saw it.
If Julia, who'd taught him the violin, saw this, she'd curse him out, asking if he really thought he could play like that.
But this wasn't something he could do.
It was something he had to do.
And so, with his sloppy posture set, the moment Rimon slid the bow through the downpour.
Screeeeech.
His fingers stopped shaking.
And a single melody echoed through the jungle.
Screeeeech.
Left violin on the right side.
Bow from right hand to left.
Playing with sides reversed was absurd to begin with.
Even a master violinist would be lucky not to produce noise instead of music.
All the more so under a pounding rain.
Yet Rimon's playing held no falter.
For a Sword Master like him, switching hands was simple.
The problem was that right hand itself.
To a violinist, the hand holding the violin wasn't mere support.
It plucked, pressed, vibrated, and snapped the strings—another instrument crafting deeper, more brilliant tones.
In that sense, playing with one hand unusable was like riding a bicycle with a missing wheel.
Screeeeech.
Yet in this moment.
Rimon's hands moved without hesitation.
Not forced by the curse in the violin.
Purely his own will, suppressing all pain, perfectly controlling his hand.
Ting.
Index finger won't move?
Use the middle instead.
Bones broken, can't apply force? Rigidify the muscles and snap the finger forcibly.
Muscles torn too?
No matter.
This was why he'd trained swordsmanship ceaselessly for centuries.
참마용살검 비술
斬魔龍殺劍 祕術
"Formless Sword is Invisible."
無形劍是隱形的
Using the sword intent of the Invisible Sword that manipulates threads hundreds of meters long to slice foes a hundred paces away, guided by the finest sensations.
Muscles as threads.
Nerves as blades.
Transmitting minute reactions from shoulder to fingers, he continued the most delicate performance.
Screee.
Was it responding to the soul poured into his playing?
The power of the Seven Arcs within the Heartblack Violin awakened, and at last, his dragon psionics began to stir.
Not defying the pressure of his sword intent.
Like water flowing between fingers.
Like wind seeping through bars.
By loosening the flow hardened over ages, it naturally slipped free from the sword intent's pressure.
Of course, only a tiny fraction.
Compared to the whole dragon psionics, less than a trickle.
But the moment that 'slight' psionics flowed out.
Hummm.
"...!"
Li Chingwei's slender shoulders quivered.
The dizzying storm of vast psionics exploding from Rimon.
Above all, the dragon's pure blood resonating with his dragon psionics, pulsing hotly.
It shook her to the core.
And it wasn't just Li Chingwei resonating with Rimon.
Thump.
Myia, carefully laid down.
Seemingly on death's doorstep.
Her slowing heart and fading psionics now pulsed anew, resonating with him.
But that was merely the beginning.
Screeeeech.
Hummmm.
'Ah...!'
As the bow glided brilliantly and fingers plucked and snapped the strings.
Brilliant melodies rang in the air.
The psionics surged in response.
Sometimes soft.
Sometimes calm.
Sometimes fierce.
With each shift in tone, Rimon's dancing dragon psionics resonated with theirs, flowing together.
A melody changing with the psionic flow.
Feeling the flow grow vast and deep in tune with the melody.
Li Chingwei understood.
Rimon was improvising a new piece to match their psionic flows, controlling it all.
In this moment.
He wasn't playing the violin.
He was playing Myia's psionics.
Li Chingwei's psionics.
Them, themselves.
Screeeeech.
Her body burned hot.
Shivers ran down her back.
Her breath quickened on its own.
Embracing her psionics.
Gently caressing every corner.
Bursting in hotly.
The playing—and Rimon's psionics within—drove her mad with longing.
Feeling psionics like flesh due to the dragon's pure blood, it left her breathless.
And as that dizziness grew.
Myia and Li Chingwei's psionics instinctively craved his created dragon psionics, merging and accelerating the flow.
Synergy Harmony (同氣造化).
The phenomenon where two psionics merge into one and amplify.
Possible for the telepathic Black Dragon Clan or array masters.
Yet even for Black Dragon Princess Li Chingwei, the ideal resonance she'd never achieved was happening now among them.
As Rimon's performance reached its climax.
The dragon psionics' synergy harmony amplifying wildly peaked.
—The change began.
Rustle.
[What is... this?]
Yuna Kyung, stomping anxiously beyond the poison's reach, widened her eyes.
As Rimon's playing continued, the poison mist from Myia rippled.
Then, on the ground blackened and rotting even the soil from the poison, sprouts suddenly emerged.
The change didn't stop there.
Shhhrush.
Flowers bloomed.
Bushes sprouted.
Trees grew.
Myia's toxicity, which once drove all to death.
Now transformed by the delicate, majestic psionic flow into healing energy, breathing life into everything around.
"This..., psionics...!"
"...My God."
And that 'around' wasn't just here.
Green Dragon Clan search parties, thousands scouring the jungle madly, led by Barbara and Arvela.
And others too.
All halted.
Forgetting even to breathe.
Across the entire Amazon—5,500,000 km²—they watched in awe as countless lives stirred and all ills and wounds healed.
"It's the Poison Green Dragon Medicine Lord! The Medicine Lord has returned!"
"Ancestor...!"
A moment of stunned silence.
Then they knelt as one, bowing heads, tears of joy streaming.
A miracle possible only in the Poison Green Dragon Medicine Lord's lifetime, eons ago.
A transcendent psionic flow blanketing the vast Amazon, beyond even a princess's limits.
It plunged them into ecstasy.
And as countless fell weeping in rapture.
The psionics blanketing the jungle converged toward one point.
Following the flowing melody.
Mingling with spreading fragrance.
Vast life force, drawn bit by bit from all Amazon beasts and plants, flowed into Myia along the psionics.
And as that vast psionics poured into her without a drop left.
Crack, crunch.
Horns and wings vanished.
Color returned to her face.
Pale blue lips flushed pink.
Thud.
Too much psionics expended?
Or the afterglow of that wild, scorching performance that stirred her own psionics freely?
As staggering Li Chingwei nearly collapsed, Rimon caught her with his now-healed hand, supporting her.
He lowered his gaze.
Myia, as if awakening from a long nightmare.
Long lashes fluttering, eyelids parting to reveal green eyes.
Rimon smiled gently at her.
"Did you have sweet dreams, Mistress?"