Who Are You? (4)
But Han Bin thought it best not to rush in recklessly.
He had unlocked the advanced section of the manual, but that didn't mean his realm would advance overnight.
He needed to strike Cheon Dok at the most opportune moment, judging the flow of battle.
First, Han Bin washed the poison residue from his face with water from the antidote jar.
The lingering toxin was slowly eroding his restorative properties.
It clung to his skin like soot from smoke.
Han Bin scrubbed it away with water.
Once he'd cleaned most of it off, Seol-hwa tilted her head curiously.
Her expression was peculiar—a mix of curiosity and concern.
She asked cautiously.
"Young Master, your face..."
She trailed off, and Han Bin waved it away.
Her look didn't bode well.
He'd been trapped in the poison haze crafted by the supreme poison master.
Even using Geumseon Talgak to escape with his life, he couldn't have emerged unscathed.
Han Bin chuckled dryly.
"It's fine. To a martial artist, scars like this are just jewelry, Seol-hwa."
"N-no, it's not that. Your aura... it feels different. Like you're not the Young Master I know..."
Seol-hwa hesitated again.
"My aura?"
Han Bin touched his face, puzzled.
What was this?
The bone structure was the same.
Normally, poison like that should have left scars, but his skin was baby-smooth.
And Seol-hwa was stunned by how much his presence had changed?
Suddenly, a line from the advanced section flashed in his mind.
The passage about being reborn as a dragon that had swallowed the wish-fulfilling jewel.
"Haha."
Han Bin laughed hollowly.
He'd thought it metaphorical, but it meant a literal transformation, a rebirth.
After laughing for a while, he stood.
Bathed in sunlight, he seemed to sparkle more brilliantly than usual today.
Not quite a full hwangol recasting, but a profound shedding nonetheless.
Now wasn't the time to fuss over looks.
Han Bin turned his gaze back to Cheon Dok.
Baek Seon was still holding her own admirably.
But Cheon Dok was no pushover.
He parried the joint assault of the Ami Baekseon and Volcanic Wave Sword Se Jaeo with effortless disdain.
* * *
Se Jaeo was on the verge of madness.
He channeled his energy into his Plum Blossom Three Realms sword through the Heavenly Thread Palm.
Otherwise, it wouldn't even graze Cheon Dok's body.
And even if it did, it wouldn't inflict a fatal wound.
It merely scratched at his foe's nerves.
Like pounding futilely on an immense, unbreakable wall.
The problem? One protruding shard could bid farewell to the living world.
Raised in wealth, fed every spirit elixir under the sun, he'd risen effortlessly in the Volcanic Sect to become a Plum Blossom Sword.
Even at the tail end, that title commanded bows from sects across the jianghu.
But now, he realized how hollow it rang.
Power beyond human limits unfolded before him.
Compared to it, he was less than a speck of dust.
So what was Se Jaeo fighting for?
Victory, of course.
He'd realized even dust could irritate a giant.
Survival was key.
Just staying alive scraped at the enemy's nerves.
That was when it happened.
His opponent's green aura surged stronger.
To Cheon Dok, Se Jaeo was a mere fly.
An annoying one, though.
A fly's buzz didn't hurt, but one that dodged every swat was a nuisance.
A clap would smear it, yet it eluded him relentlessly.
Whenever he lunged for Se Jaeo, Baek Seon's Millennium Bone-Cutting Palm targeted his vital points.
This dragged on, he'd waste the time mandok jiche granted without gain.
Decision time.
Cheon Dok opted for his final ultimate technique: Dokpa.
A method compressing poison energy for explosive release.
No one could withstand it.
While fending off Baek Seon and the pesky Volcanic runt, he secretly gathered his inner power into poison at one point.
His emitted toxin didn't wane.
He prepared his finishing move in utter secrecy.
Han Bin still observed.
Calculating outcomes if he intervened.
Joint attack arts didn't scale linearly with numbers.
Swords tangling in a melee? Straight path to defeat.
But if this deathmatch dragged on?
Initially unfavorable for Baek Seon and Se Jaeo, the key was that terrifying green poison haze had a time limit.
As Han Bin prepared his timely entry...
'What?'
He spotted Cheon Dok's shift.
The blue formula points signaling his technique darkened, intensifying.
Some change was brewing.
Instinct screamed: leave it, and they'd be in peril.
First, find the bastard's weakness.
Cheon Dok was trickier than Han Bin expected.
Cold judgment immune to feints, meticulous vigilance.
Crucial: create an opening.
Han Bin's eyes gleamed as a faint smile tugged his lips.
He'd found it.
One Han Bin sufficed to end him.
About to leap from the eaves, he paused, tilting his head.
Something felt off.
He glanced at his Geumseon Talgak escape spot.
His poison-blocking mask lay there, discarded.
No time now.
He expelled invading toxin with the advanced manual's formulas.
Han Bin instructed.
"Seol-hwa, on my signal, fire that hidden weapon from the bundle. Stay at least ten paces back."
He pointed to the long tube inside.
Geom-o's handiwork: an upgraded Ihwa Singi.
Thumb-thick, forearm-long—mistakable for a small flute.
Far refined from the Zhang Ha River version.
Activation would unleash not dozens, but a hundred hair-thin silver needles.
With that, Han Bin exploded forward in a one-touch instant-kill technique toward Cheon Dok.
One with Wol-a, cloaked in blue sword aura.
He halted right before the poison haze.
Unleashing Kwaegeom Nanma.
Simultaneously, a bluffing roar: the Lion's Roar.
"You bastard!"
Few words, but laced with profound energy.
His voice erupted as a massive wave, rippling outward.
Wooong!
A colossal pressure blanketing Jangun-hyeon.
Even the Akhyeolmaenghodae members gauging entry from afar buckled.
Thud.
They dropped to their knees, overwhelmed.
A bit farther, they'd have held; too close now.
Plus, unlocking the advanced section amplified his techniques.
Thus, the bluff affected even the Akhyeolmaenghodae.
Se Jaeo, mid-clash with Cheon Dok, froze too.
Key: Cheon Dok showed a split-second gap.
Han Bin triggered the Ihwa Singi in his left hand.
Shing!
Pt-pt-pt!
Nearly a hundred silver needles hurtled at Cheon Dok.
Han Bin snapped his fingers.
Snap!
On cue, Seol-hwa fired from behind.
Shing!
Pt-pt-pt!
As Han Bin's needles neared...
Cheon Dok, briefly cowed by the bluff, recovered.
He intensified his enveloping poison against the volley.
Papapak!
The green haze thickened.
Then he sensed incoming from behind.
To him, a classic feint-within-feint ploy.
Neither front nor rear needles were ordinary.
He retracted all poison, wrapping himself in protective aura—like poison hosin ganggi.
The needles slowed against it.
Slowed, but didn't stop.
Cheon Dok poured more power.
The needles reaching his face melted like icicles in sun.
Sizzle.
More like burning than melting.
In short, Cheon Dok was a genius at poison control.
Gathering for Dokpa while sustaining poison hosin ganggi.
Even dissolving Ihwa Singi needles.
As he relaxed slightly...
A larger projectile hurtled forth.
He refocused poison hosin ganggi forward.
His eyes widened.
Poison wouldn't melt this.
'A dagger?'
He hastily flicked it away with his sword.
Clang!
Shock nearly floored him.
Not one dagger— a second trailed the first in a straight line, fooling the eye.
He twisted back urgently.
Cheon Geun Chu to shift weight rearward, upper body arching.
But the dagger's path was eerie.
Like Han Bin's prior sword clash.
Tracing a taegeuk, slithering alive along the blade.
Cheon Dok rolled desperately—the disgraceful naryeo tagon.
Like a lazy donkey tumbling.
After several rolls, he evaded.
Or so he thought.
The dagger pursued with uncanny motion.
Aiming precisely for his head.
Coiling serpent-like, akin to a living sword technique.
He twisted again.
His aura and motion barely dodged it.
The dagger whistled overhead.
Swish!
Ssssh.
Snowflakes seemed to dance before his eyes.
No—his hair, sheared in clumps.
Instantly, Cheon Dok lost reason.
What had he regretted most as a poison master?
His lush hair.
Stronger poison meant thinner locks.
These had taken over a decade to cultivate.
For poison folk, hair was harder to grow than inner power.
Raging, Cheon Dok charged Han Bin.
"You fucker!"
"Too bad. If it mattered, you should've guarded it better. Like me."
Han Bin swept back his hair.
Sunlit strands shimmered like silk.
Courtesy of the advanced section's transformative aura.
Cheon Dok's bald pate versus Han Bin's lustrous mane—obvious contrast.
Even to Cheon Dok.
His eyes blazed.
Han Bin smirked faintly.
Kwa-gwang!
Poison erupted from Cheon Dok's sword, Dok-a.
Not by will.
Unleashed by instinct, fury overriding control.
Han Bin swiftly retreated.
Dodge this burst, and a gap in poison and inner power would follow.
Up to here, plan flawless.
First phase complete; succeed in the second, and he'd claim Cheon Dok's lingering formulas.