Chapter 217
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 217
Chapter Title: The Important Thing Is to Ask Directly
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[Mindscape Entry - ■]
▷ Requests permission to enter another's mindscape.
▷ No real time passes while inside the mindscape.
-Kid.
"..."
I know the owner of this voice.
I don't know if it's a man or a woman, but it's the Martial God, who outwardly takes the form of a woman.
The last time I encountered her in her mindscape, that crackling sense of wrongness hit me.
"Want me to drop in for a bit?"
Shhrrk—
I returned the Gleipnir I had been stroking and sat up on the sofa.
"Hm..."
I have no way to respond to this bizarre form of communication, something they'd call telepathy in wuxia novels.
And she knows that.
At a timing like this, the only reason for that skill to appear is a signal to use it.
Zzzt!
The moment I activated the skill, the mana gathered in my hand blurred like shattered pixels before snapping back.
A faint decrease in mana proved I'd used it correctly, but nothing happened. Everything stayed quiet.
"Huh?"
Just as I puzzled over the lack of change and tried to use it again—
My vision twisted, the world before me clouding over in a haze.
...
...
"Ugh!"
The reason was unknown.
Unlike last time, plunging into the mindscape brought a nauseating vertigo.
Dizziness dozens of times worse than a gate from the capital to another territory.
And when I opened my eyes, I was in a stark white space that reminded me of some hospital room.
'...New-age torture?'
Eye-searing white everywhere.
"Unlike before, you dropped straight into the depths of my mindscape this time. No wonder you're disoriented."
No footsteps, no presence—if not for her voice, I wouldn't have known where she was.
"Your body hasn't achieved perfect balance, so you lose resistance the moment your senses waver."
A woman with trailing black hair dragged across the pristine white floor, moving freely despite the cloth over her eyes.
The instant I turned to look at the Martial God's face—
The unsettled dizziness surged, and I nearly vomited right there.
"Urp—!"
Even staring straight at her, my brain refused to process it, bleaching my mind in a bizarre sensation.
'Right... she was always like this.'
I'd experienced the same last time but had forgotten.
"You still can't face me properly. No real progress there."
The sterile mindscape floor rippled, forming a seat.
She sat, proudly displaying her long hair even with my gaze lowered.
"Hoo! Hoo..."
Breathing deeply enough to heave my chest, my churning gut settled, and my back straightened.
"If you're calm now, sit. How long do you plan to keep me waiting?"
My balance wobbled on the first step, but I made it to the chair and sat.
As the wild sensations quieted, she finally came into blurry focus.
Her face was as unrecognizable as ever, but lowering my gaze a bit made it bearable.
"Tsk tsk. Too frail to call a proper man."
The moment I sat, she clicked her tongue and spat some archaic phrase.
"...If you called me here just to insult me, go ahead."
Her voice was pricklier than our first meeting. Did some grudge form?
Even if she'd handed it over, Gleipnir got damaged, so maybe she was mad about that.
"Causing trouble and still mouthy as ever. Fine... a real man wouldn't bow his head meekly anyway. That'd kill the fun."
"Calling me here right on cue like some ghost. You've been watching, haven't you."
The Martial God smirked, as if waiting for those words.
Not quite a sneer, but my instincts said it wasn't good for me.
"You dared leave me with 'good job' and ran off. I had to watch just to make sure."
"Good job...? Oh!"
Back when I'd first visited her mindscape to gain a form.
As Gleipnir bound to me and she panicked, my parting wave and words.
-Good job.
That last bit must have irked her; some unresolved emotion lingered.
'...This is the Martial God?'
Too petty for someone with "god" in the title.
"Minus the time we agreed on, watching you was a chore."
She'd kept her promise not to peek during my time with my women.
But otherwise, nonstop surveillance? Honestly creepy.
"...You can't still be sulking over that one line, right?"
Her upturned lip drooped, voice lowering.
"Sulking...? How dare you think such blasphemy? Question my heart again, and I'll boot you out right now."
Her transparent reaction confirmed it.
'She's sulking...'
With a heart that narrow... I'd thought no more dealings after Gleipnir.
But with this new skill, more help might come. Better watch my words.
"So why'd you call me? To rag on my weak skills?"
"A troublemaker's mind is truly narrow. I'm not that idle."
"..."
Doesn't spying on my daily life all day count as idle?
I held back the retort.
Realizing her pettiness made her seem unworthy of "Martial God."
So I shut up and listened.
Sarahk—
As if signaling the real talk, she crossed her legs in her seat.
"Even calling you a mere Raksha at this point—you're a martial artist carrying on my lineage."
"True enough. No denying that."
Originally, I'd planned to inherit the second form, Heavenly Slaughter Star, then push straight to the last.
Circumstances stalled it, but using Raksha's White Flame like daily meals meant I was continuing her path. No lie there.
"But you're so frail and wobbly—it doesn't reflect well on me."
"...Sorry for being too weak to measure up."
Her mood seemed to lighten at my response; she chuckled right in my face.
"Kuk! Feels better now."
"..."
I figured she'd bring up Gleipnir after landing that hit, but she stuck to the topic.
"That greasy-bearded oaf handling the spear seems to grasp it dimly. But you haven't pinned down what 'martial' truly is."
Spear and greasy beard—had to be Duke Amaranth.
My eyes sharpened instinctively.
"You called me today to teach me what martial arts really are?"
"Before words existed, it was there. How could a personal, spiritual pursuit be perfectly captured in language?"
"..."
I got it, but it deflated me.
As a sigh escaped, she raised her tone.
"However! I'll offer some advice worth heeding."
"...I'm all ears. Most focused I've ever been."
Felt like she was toying with me, raising then lowering expectations. Whatever.
I scraped together every ounce of focus and stared at her.
Her distorting presence felt a touch clearer this time.
"Kid. What form do you think your martial arts take?"
Careful deliberation—my answer might unlock something big.
Rubbing my chin over and over, it boiled down to one.
"...I never formally trained or inherited any, so maybe no form? That's both strength and weakness."
"Knew you'd say that. Stubbornly clinging to 'no training, no form'—you think that's true formlessness? That's just neither here nor there."
"Not getting it..."
I only grasped that I was wrong.
Some might call self-denial painful, but I craved this advice desperately.
No offense taken—just hungry for answers.
"All martial flows converge—be it formless brawling from back alleys or inherited styles from noble houses, the destination is one."
"Myriad streams return to the sect..."
I nodded, understanding, and her next words flowed smoothly.
"Even a self-proclaimed formless martial artist has habits or instincts they prioritize by situation. Wrong?"
"That's true. But habits aren't quite a martial form, right? Even non-martial folks have them."
She shook her head, denying my point.
"Exactly—that's why you're only half there."
"Sigh... Tough. No clue."
No sudden epiphany from listening.
Vague criticism, but the solution felt distant.
"Heh heh—the higher you climb, the harder the path. Ponder more, wander more. ...Enough idle chat. Off with you."
Off with me.
'...That's it?'
As her words ended, the white mindscape stirred to eject me.
Before expulsion, I blurted the real question gnawing at me.
No new form, no repair method—just vague pointers.
Too little to leave with.
"Wait! You skipped the most important part! Gleipnir's repairs?"
Her eyes hidden, yet she smirked clearly, conveying her mood.
"Shouldn't important matters be asked face-to-face, directly?"
"Hm?"
"Heh! Such a dense kid. Why would I grant you this eerie sorcery to enter mindscapes?"
Her tone held no rebuke, despite the words.
She rose silently and approached me.
"...Why're you coming closer?"
One hand extended, fingertip to my forehead as I sat.
Her other hand lifted the blindfold slightly, golden eyes gazing down.
"Don't forget my words. She's modest and shy—don't bulldoze in. Unleash that playboy charm for once."
Tap!
Her finger nudged me lightly.
The world spun wildly.
...
...
"—!!"
I squeezed my eyes shut against the vertigo, opening them back on the mansion sofa.
Mind blank, but I moved on her advice.
"Gleipnir."
Sarahk!
Stroking the sturdy chains softly, thoughts turned.
'Shy one...'
After some mental simulation—
I activated the skill on the Gleipnir in my palm.