Chapter 23
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: The Pinnacle of the Divine Bow
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An unbelievable event had just occurred.
"Is this the true Return Heart Technique?!"
His dantian was now filled with internal energy equivalent to nearly a month's worth.
Even using the Return Heart Technique he had prided himself on as a supreme art, it would normally take at least five days to achieve such results.
Yet he had accomplished this monumental feat in just one day—no, in a single session of circulation.
The True Return Heart Technique!
This was the Return Heart Technique in its purest form.
Everything Ruyan had known about the principles of nature up until now had been mere superficial knowledge.
The three cycles of internal energy he had spent his entire previous life accumulating could now be restored within six years.
'Was I arrogant? Is that why it's guiding me now?'
Ruyan gazed silently at the sacred tree with eyes still wide from shock.
Since arriving on the Sobles Continent, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching over him and leading him.
Ruyan stared at the sacred tree radiating brilliant light, then nodded firmly.
'I'll gladly follow. I'm curious too, to see where this path leads.'
Ruyan had never taken a disciple in his lifetime, so he hadn't compiled his martial arts into a formal manual.
As a result, his techniques lacked formal names.
If he had to label it, it might be something like Ha Cheol-hyeok's unique archery style.
Names aside, there was a systematic structure. Broadly speaking, the archery he practiced divided into three stages.
The first was firing arrows in a straight line without any arc.
'Whether it's speed or power, straight shots are far superior.'
An arrow that followed a parabolic path ultimately struck its target only through falling momentum.
Its power was markedly inferior.
Its slow speed and predictable trajectory made it difficult to snipe skilled martial artists.
'No matter the distance, you must be able to send the arrow flying straight into flesh.'
Ruyan took a calm deep breath and slowly raised his bow.
It wasn't anything extraordinary—just an ordinary bow he'd asked Gers to procure.
But the moment it entered Ruyan's hands, it became a weapon more powerful than any divine artifact.
Creak.
His rock-hard forearm drew the string, bending the bow as if it might snap.
Ping.
As the bow vibrated fiercely, the arrow shot forth at tremendous speed.
Too fast to see with the naked eye. And utterly silent.
The Divine Bow's supreme technique, which once dominated the Central Plains, has been revived on the Sobles Continent.
Achieved purely through internal energy, without any aid from magic.
Krunch.
The arrow, vanished from sight, reappeared at the target 1 kilometer away as if it had teleported.
It struck the target dead-center, without the slightest deviation from the height at which Ruyan had loosed it.
Proof that it had flown straight despite air and wind resistance.
Unbelievable, even seeing it with his own eyes!
But Ruyan merely regarded the target with an impassive expression.
'Not bad.'
That was the extent of his reaction.
This miracle of archery was, to him, merely the first stage.
'Second stage: Once you can fire straight, you must control the speed.'
It was difficult. No—physically impossible.
Drawing the bow weakly could slow the arrow, but it would also reduce power and range.
To be a true master archer, one must fire arrows at the same distance with perfect power but varying speeds.
'Ultimately, it's a matter of precisely controlling internal energy.'
Ruyan immediately nocked another arrow, drew fully, and released without even aiming.
Ping.
Once more, the arrow flew straight.
But its speed was markedly slower—visible if one focused intently.
Ping.
In the brief moment the first arrow was in flight, the sharp whistle rang out again.
Ruyan had fired once more.
The second arrow cleaved the air faster than ever before.
Then, something astonishing happened.
The second arrow overtook the first.
Shwick.
It pierced the center of the leading arrow, splitting it in two.
Thud thud thud.
In the end, all three arrow pieces slammed into the target simultaneously.
Even the bisected halves retained enough force to hit dead-on.
Archery beyond miracles—truly the handiwork of a god!
'Not bad at all.'
This time, Ruyan nodded with a faintly satisfied expression.
Completing the second stage meant he had nearly recovered his previous life's energy manipulation prowess.
But Ruyan wasn't one to stop there.
'Final stage: No matter how you shoot, it must hit.'
All martial arts and magic meant nothing unless they connected with the foe.
Fancy techniques and feints served only that simple purpose.
In other words, perfect accuracy in any form was the ultimate pinnacle of archery.
'I can do it. Now!'
Ruyan steadied his breathing meticulously, focusing every nerve into his fingertips.
Then, in an instant, he loosed three shots.
Ping, ping, ping.
The arrows flew in rapid succession—nearly simultaneous.
Each in a different direction.
The first veered left.
The second straight ahead.
The third right.
The three arrows sped apart in their trajectories.
But then—what happened next?
Suddenly, the left and right arrows curved sharply inward.
All three rapidly converged.
Krunch.
They struck the target in perfect unison, without even microscopic error.
The realm of the Divine Archer!
The absolute peak that only the Divine Bow had ever reached in the untainted history of the Central Plains.
'Finally, it's complete!'
What Ruyan had just demonstrated was on a level incomparable to trifles like Flying Sword Control.
It was entirely different from such paltry arts.
Flying Sword Control remotely infused energy into a weapon for sustained direction—a wasteful show of flair that burned through internal energy.
But Ruyan didn't do that. At the moment of release, he preset the energy's path.
The energy led, and the arrow followed like iron to a magnet.
With Ruyan's method, far less energy yielded attacks more powerful and precise than Flying Sword Control.
A realm where intent alone guaranteed the strike!
That was the Divine Archer.
'This is sufficient.'
It had been exactly five years since Ruyan settled beneath the sacred tree to immerse himself in training.
His cultivation was now complete.
The time had come to step into the world.
'Heartless brat. So suddenly...'
Gers had packed dried meat, fruits, and more, then climbed the mountain.
He was even carrying premium wine, hard to find in a rural village.
—I'm leaving tomorrow.
The note Ruyan had quietly left the night before had hurried his steps.
Over the past five years—or further back, since Ruyan's birth—Gers had watched over him.
How could he not? He was the last blood of his dear friend.
Even after Blanc departed first, Gers had cared for Ruyan in every way possible.
He couldn't be overt due to watchful eyes, but he'd done his utmost in secret.
So of course he felt a pang of resentment at this sudden farewell.
'If you're leaving, at least share a drink first.'
Ruyan was twenty now.
Too young to fully replace his father, but he still needed an elder to teach him the taste of liquor.
'Got the best around here. Just wait a bit.'
Worried he might miss Ruyan, Gers quickened his pace.
But perhaps his affection made him careless.
He failed to notice the man tailing him.
The man stalking Gers was Gawain of the Black Lion Knights.
'Finally making a move?'
Gawain had been monitoring Gers for some time.
It was only natural—he was the closest to Ruyan by relation.
Yet despite constant surveillance, he'd never caught them meeting.
Frustrated, he'd once considered abducting and torturing Gers on impulse.
But strict orders forbade touching anyone in Hatchling Village.
'I nearly lost my mind from the frustration.'
His mission had stalled for five long years.
Now, Gers's suspicious behavior was a lead he couldn't ignore.
'If I can just pinpoint the target's location...'
He could escape this backwater.
And completing a five-year unfinished assignment would bring substantial rewards.
Calming his excitement, Gawain shadowed Gers with utmost caution.
Meanwhile, Gers swiftly ascended, first stopping at Blanc's grave to pour some wine.
"Wine for your son, but shall I let you taste it first?"
Muttering to himself, he spent a moment with Blanc before heading deeper into the mountains, behind the house.
'Yes! He's heading to him, just as I thought!'
What else would bring Gers into pathless wilds?
Gawain swallowed hard, suppressing even his saliva, and continued his stealthy pursuit.
Rustle rustle.
Two men traversed the dense underbrush, but only one set of sounds echoed.
A true Black Lion!
In operational zones, they left no sound, no trace—not even a shadow.
Ghosts might find him, but he would never find ghosts.
Or so it should have been.
As Gawain concentrated fully, someone tapped his shoulder from behind.
"Mister, what are you doing here?"
A whisper-soft voice.
But to Gawain, it roared louder than thunder.
His heart plummeted.
'Who the hell?!'
Stunned to the point of mental paralysis, Gawain turned dumbly.
A woman stared at him with an innocent expression.
He'd never seen her before.
Late twenties, perhaps.
Fair skin, large eyes, quite pretty.
But unlike her delicate face, her body was incredibly toned.
Her shoulders and arms rippled with compact muscles, giving a sturdy impression.
Not bulky or overly swollen, but perfectly balanced.
A battle-hardened warrior!
'She's strong.'
Gawain instantly recognized she was no pushover.
It was only natural—no ordinary woman would stroll this deep wilderness.
'Who is she?'
Even focused solely on Gers, for her to approach undetected meant exceptional skill.
Not just high martial prowess, but top-tier stealth as well.
'Escape this moment first.'
Quickly assessing, Gawain schooled his features into a clumsy act.
"Ahem, I was chopping wood and got lost... Do you know where we are?"
He subtly flashed his battered axe, playing the woodcutter.
"Oh dear, that must've been tough."
The young woman covered her mouth, smiling prettily. A bright grin unfit for the dark forest.
Would this defuse the crisis?
Gawain calculated scenarios in his head.
Then, as her smile lingered, she lowered her hand—revealing a sinister twist.
Her eyes laughed, but her mouth sneered with contempt and mockery.
"Guess even black mongrels get lost sometimes?"
Her voice chilled the air itself.
Startled, Gawain kicked off backward.
'Damn! She knows who I am.'
Black mongrel.
A new slur, but unmistakably aimed at the Black Lion.
When had she drawn? A massive greatsword now protruded from her hand.