Chapter 133: A Cultivation Method that Absorbs Demonic Qi (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 133: A Cultivation Method that Absorbs Demonic Qi (3)
His vision went dark. It felt as if the entire world had been swallowed by shadows.
A low buzz of voices filled the air.
A massive crowd had gathered in front of the Palace of Supreme Clarity. Among them were not only the First Generation Disciples but the Second Generation Disciples as well.
And in the center of them all lay Seok Jin.
“…Junior Brother Seok Jin.”
Seok Myeong couldn't wrap his head around it.
Just as his master, Taoist Songgang, had described, Seok Jin was bleeding from his five orifices, and his pores were oozing a thick, black liquid. In the distance, the sound of Song Hak’s long, heavy sigh reached his ears.
“In the end… I knew it would come to this. That cursed demonic art.”
“……”
Seok Myeong stood frozen.
The impact on the meridian point had certainly been significant. However, Seok Jin had more than enough physical strength to endure it. The circulation of his internal and external qi had been smooth; everything had been falling into place.
Yet, they said his airway had been blocked by the vomiting of blood.
Looking at the thick clots of blood dripping from the corner of the boy's mouth, Seok Myeong stared vacantly. He remained bound tightly in ropes.
“…Junior Brother Jin.”
— I’ve been learning from you since I was a child, Eldest Disciple. And in all that time, not once has your teaching been wrong. I’m sure it will be the same this time.
— If it’s a heart method you created, Eldest Disciple, I believe it will be more magnificent than any other technique in Qingcheng.
Seok Jin had believed in him. He had trusted him without a single shred of doubt.
And yet, this was the result. An unbelievable, devastating outcome.
‘There’s no way it went wrong like this….’
Seok Myeong couldn't believe it. In truth, perhaps he simply didn't want to believe it—even though his junior brother’s corpse lay right before his eyes.
Thud.
Seok Myeong’s spirit began to crumble.
His master’s kind face. The many determinations of the Azure Cloud lineage. The years he had spent since birth, never wasting a single day for the sake of Qingcheng. It all scattered and vanished like grains of sand.
“Ugh… hic….”
He heard Yeon-hui sobbing amidst the crowd. Despite being the daughter of the Sect Leader, she stood there with her movements restricted, looking on in horror.
The Qingcheng heart method had been declared a failure. Yeon-hui, who had learned the same technique, could also die like that at any moment—or perhaps turn into a Giant Demon and be slaughtered by her own comrades.
‘What did your disciple do wrong, Master?’
Seok Myeong closed his eyes and reminisced. It had been a long time, yet it felt so short. His master’s benevolent smile. The process of growing up in Qingcheng. The difficult but rewarding times.
He had taken pride in the sect, guiding his junior brothers and following his master’s teachings as a member of the Azure Cloud lineage. He couldn't understand where it had all gone wrong.
“Now. Do you all see? Do you see how absurd it was to attempt to combine the martial arts of Qingcheng with a demonic heart method?”
Song Hak addressed the crowd in a low, somber voice. It wasn't a petty taunt. No matter how much he disliked Seok Myeong or the Azure Cloud lineage, Song Hak was still an elder of Qingcheng. He was not so depraved as to gloat when a precious disciple of the sect had died such a senseless death.
“Please, bring this to a conclusion, Sect Leader.”
“……”
A nod.
Song Jeong quietly signaled his agreement with his eyes closed. The only silver lining was that no distinct demonic qi could be felt within Yeon-hui’s body.
Song Hak walked toward Seok Myeong, who sat kneeling in a daze.
“First Generation Disciple Seok Myeong, listen well.”
“……”
“The crime of learning a demonic art without the sect’s permission. The crime of tarnishing Qingcheng’s legitimacy with a forbidden technique. The crime of endangering the lives of your junior brothers with an unverified martial art. Do you admit to all of these?”
“……”
“Answer me. If there is no objection, I will consider it a confession.”
Clang!
Along with the chilling ring of a blade, a cold sensation brushed the back of his neck. A thin trail of blood trickled down where the skin had been nicked.
“…Jin.”
But Seok Myeong didn't care. Whether he was tortured on the spot or torn limb from limb, he would have welcomed the pain. Compared to this self-loathing, this guilt, and this heartache, the pain of the flesh was nothing.
“Please let me… check on Junior Brother Seok Jin for just a moment.”
“Hah. What did you say?”
“I beg of you. Just one last time… if you allow me that……”
He didn't need to say the words ‘I will confess’ for them to be understood.
A heavy sigh followed. Then, shing! A sharp wind from a sword swept toward him.
Thud, thud.
The ropes binding Seok Myeong fell away. Song Hak’s keen blade had severed them in a single stroke.
“Fine. Look. Look and see exactly what you have done with your own eyes.”
“……”
Seok Myeong bowed. He raised his stiff arms to show respect, then crawled awkwardly toward Seok Jin’s body.
“Junior Brother Jin….”
With trembling hands, he touched Seok Jin’s face. Blood and pus-like impurities smeared onto his fingers, but he didn't feel disgusted.
This was Seok Jin’s blood. It was the trace of a man who had trusted Seok Myeong until the very end and staked his life on that trust.
“…I’m sorry.”
The body was still warm. Rigor mortis had not yet set in. It felt as if Seok Jin might wake up at any moment, scratching the back of his head and saying, ‘Ah, what are you doing, Eldest Disciple?’
“Junior Brother Jin… I’m so sorry.”
The bridge of his nose stung, and his vision blurred. Suddenly, a long sigh drifted from behind him.
“…What use is it to shed tears now?”
It was Song Hak. His voice was somber, devoid of his usual sarcasm.
“You foolish boy. I told you until I was blue in the face… not to waste your years lost in vain delusions. Qingcheng’s sword alone is more than enough.”
“……”
“Power that makes one strong in an instant is, without exception, a deviant path. Did you truly think it was possible to absorb only the strengths of other sects while discarding their flaws? A sect’s secret martial arts are imbued with its spirit and character. You couldn't even look after your own, yet you turned your eyes toward the treasures of others… how pitiful.”
“……”
Song Hak’s words carved into his heart. He, too, was an elder of Qingcheng. In his own way, his desire to make the sect strong was second to none.
Grit!
Clenching his teeth to suppress his sobs, Seok Myeong simply held Seok Jin’s hand.
And then.
Thump.
“……”
His body froze. It was very brief, but certain. From Seok Jin’s pulse point.
“Well? Do you admit it now? Do you realize your mistake?”
“……”
He felt something—a heartbeat. As if possessed, Seok Myeong grabbed Seok Jin’s wrist and then checked the carotid artery under his neck.
Slither.
It was hard to feel properly because of the sticky impurities, but it was definitely there.
Thump… thump….
“Seok Myeong?”
Slowly. Very faintly, a pulse was beating. Now that he noticed, the body was warm. If his breath had truly stopped, regardless of rigor mortis, his body temperature should have cooled long ago.
“Not yet….”
Seok Myeong’s body trembled violently. He raised his hands, which were covered in the viscous slime of impurities.
“What?”
“Not yet. He isn't… Junior Brother Jin isn't……”
“You’re still at it!”
Song Hak’s voice rose into a roar. With wide eyes, Seok Myeong slowly raised both hands and—
Boom!
“Gasp!”
“Senior Brother Seok Myeong!”
He struck Seok Jin’s chest. He poured palm force repeatedly into the heart meridians, the Sea of Qi, the lower Dantian, and the solar plexus.
“Junior Brother Seok Jin! Wake up! Snap out of it!”
“You madman! You truly are beyond saving!”
Shing!
A terrifying killing intent rose from behind. Song Hak, his murderous intent reaching its peak, raised his sword.
“Junior Brother Jin!”
Boom!
Ignoring the threat, Seok Myeong struck Seok Jin’s solar plexus once more. With that, a clump of black blood sprayed from the ‘corpse’s’ mouth.
Splatter!
“……”
At the same time, Seok Myeong felt a sharp pain in his head. An enraged Song Hak had grabbed him by the hair.
“Urgh!”
“Seok Myeong! You’ve been tainted by demonic arts to your very marrow! Today, I shall take your head before the ancestors—”
“Kuegh! Cough, cough! Aigoo, I’m dying….”
Song Hak froze. His explosive shouting cut off abruptly. He, who had been about to strike Seok Myeong’s neck, stood paralyzed as if he had seen a ghost.
“Hack, hack, ugh. What is this smell… Huh? Eldest Disciple?”
“……”
Seok Jin was opening his eyes and sitting up. Even though everyone had been told he was dead, he was moving. He wiped his eyes, which were stained with filthy impurities and fresh blood.
“E-Elder Song Hak? What… what are you doing! Oh my god! Are you finally trying to kill the Eldest Disciple…?”
“……”
He was speaking. In the face of this sudden, bizarre occurrence, Song Hak’s grip loosened.
Buzz, murmur!
As every member of the Qingcheng Sect in front of the Palace of Supreme Clarity gasped, screamed, or cheered, Seok Jin scratched the back of his head and finally spoke.
“Ah, what are you doing, Eldest Disciple? And why am I even here?”
He sounded just like his usual, somewhat silly self.
“Hey, Eldest Disciple. Eldest—”
Oof!
Seok Jin couldn't finish his sentence. Seok Myeong had pulled Seok Jin’s sticky body into a tight, desperate embrace.
*
“Draw swords!”
“Hah!”
“Hyah!”
Clang! Clang!
The next day.
A clear sword resonance rang out from Seok Jin’s blade. It was an offensive stance launched simultaneously with the starting pose.
“Hah!”
Whish! Whoosh!
Following that, sword wind and sword shadows surged with the sound of a fierce gale. The swordsmanship of the Qingcheng Sect consisted of eight forms in total. He completed them all in the span of a single swing.
The First Generation Disciples in front of the Palace of Supreme Clarity gasped in admiration, and the corners of Seok Jin’s mouth curled upward.
“Don't let your mind wander!”
“Ah! Yes!”
Whir! Swish!
Following the command of his master, Taoist Songgang, Seok Jin began to perform a sword dance, spinning rapidly.
Shing! Swish! Shing!
Fast. Strong. Fierce.
The sharp sword shadows unique to Qingcheng extended in all directions. Watching him, Seok Myeong’s fellow disciple, Seok Gyeong, muttered.
“Was Junior Brother Seok Jin… always that fast?”
“Absolutely not. His internal strength was lacking and his body was slow—gasp!”
The First Generation Disciple who had been responding let out a cry.
Ssssh!
A light began to flicker at the tip of Seok Jin’s sword, and with a flash, three feet of Sword Aura began to manifest.
“Sword Aura!”
“That’s impossible!”
The watching disciples were struck with awe. The young novice disciples, in particular, stared at the Sword Aura he had produced with eyes full of wonder.
The area buzzed with excitement. The solemn front of the Palace of Supreme Clarity became as noisy as a marketplace. Seok Jin, caught up in the excitement as he swung his sword and unleashed the aura, let his grin widen even further.
“Enough! Sheathe your swords!”
“Yes!”
However, the command of their strict master, Songgang, fell. Seok Jin put his sword away with a somewhat disappointed expression, but—
“Whoaaa!”
“Can you guys believe this? Hahaha!”
“That was amazing!”
The First Generation Disciples were in a state of pure ecstasy.