Chapter 67
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: That's How I Feel (2)
Kang Moo-jin's first impression upon seeing Divine Wind Sword Jin-gyeol could be summed up in a single word.
Is he insane?
No matter how he thought about it, the man didn't seem right in the head.
Whether qi deviation had gone to his brain or not, he was clearly a madman.
A righteous sect warrior, no less. A Daoist priest who revered Taoism, of all people, charging in out of nowhere demanding a fight.
'What kind of lunatic is this?'
Kang Moo-jin had encountered plenty of crazies—from Ma Du-gwang and on—but this was a whole new level of originality.
"…?"
Yu-hwa looked just as baffled, her mouth agape in a hollow laugh.
"…."
Un-cheon covered his face with his hand and sidled up against the wall.
If they spotted him, they'd ask what a Mount Hua elder was doing here, and then he'd have to explain getting smashed by Moo-jin. Better to hide.
"Ah, I harbor no ill will toward you."
Jin-gyeol lifted one corner of his mouth in an arrogant smirk.
"I've built quite a reputation in the jianghu myself. Recently, I slew an Earth Dragon—a spirit beast a tad larger than the serpent young master Kang caught in Sichuan. What else did I do?"
"Senior brother, you also took down a Blue Corpses."
"Ah, right. Before that, I hunted down some Blue Corpses. I hear young master Kang took out a White Corpses too?"
Jiangshi in the Central Plains were classified into four main types by strength.
The strongest could deploy the martial arts they wielded in life—Active Corpses. Next came Red-Black Corpses, then Blue Corpses, and finally White Corpses.
So here was Jin-gyeol, puffing up in front of Kang Moo-jin—who had pulverized hundreds of Red-Black Corpses—about slaying a dozen Blue ones.
Like a three-thousand-year-old pupa wrinkling its brow.
"Haha. Impressive, isn't it? We have so much in common."
"…."
"That's why folks pick me as Shaanxi Province's rising star and young master Kang as Taiyuan's. How about we test who's superior?"
Shortening Shanxi Province to Taiyuan to subtly demean Moo-jin, Jin-gyeol flashed a sly smile.
"What do you say? If you're not scared, cross swords with this Divine Wind Sword."
"…."
Yu-hwa glared at Jin-gyeol, biting her lip hard.
She wanted to confront the Mount Zhongnan Daoist insulting Moo-jin right then.
But with her brother staying silent, she couldn't step in. For his honor, it would be the wrong move.
"Hm. So you want to spar with me, is that it?"
"Haha. Spot on. You're quick on the uptake—refreshing."
Jin-gyeol laced his silky tone with mockery. The Mount Zhongnan Daoists behind him snickered.
"But you know."
"Hm?"
"You can't have a tiger fighting a mutt, right?"
"…?"
Jin-gyeol tilted his head, not getting it at first. Then his face hardened.
"What did you just…."
"Fights need matching levels. To tangle with me…."
Kwuduk—
Moo-jin downed the green tea in his cup in one gulp, then clenched his fist. The teacup crumbled to powder and slipped through his fingers.
No inner energy—just raw grip strength turning it to dust.
"You'd need the Mount Zhongnan sect leader at least."
"How dare you…! Insulting Mount Zhongnan!?"
Sring—
Divine Wind Sword Jin-gyeol drew his sword from his waist, aiming it at Moo-jin.
"Draw your sword! I'll punish your rudeness personally!"
"You're the ones who started picking fights and spouting nonsense."
"Draw it now!"
Righteous sect warriors rarely struck first against an unarmed foe.
It crushed their pride as honor-bound martial artists.
"Can't you see? No sword means nothing to draw."
"Th-then take your stance!"
"Nah."
"…?"
Jin-gyeol blinked at the unexpected response.
He hadn't imagined Moo-jin refusing a fight here of all places.
"…."
Jin-gyeol and the Mount Zhongnan Daoists exchanged sidelong glances.
Seemed their goal was provoking Moo-jin into a brawl.
"Want to spar? Fine."
Moo-jin turned to Yu-hwa.
"Yu-hwa."
"Yes?"
"You handle it."
"Me?!"
"When the master's insulted, the disciple steps up, right?"
"…! Yes, brother."
Reading his intent, Yu-hwa nodded.
Moo-jin was giving her a chance to clash swords with Mount Zhongnan—and vent her anger personally!
"…You want me to fight a girl?"
Yu-hwa scoffed at Jin-gyeol's incredulous look.
"You flapping your gums like a wench—you're not so different. Both neutered, aren't you?"
"You… insolent wretches…!"
She'd held her tongue in front of Moo-jin, but Yu-hwa's barbs were sharp.
Sharp enough to wound Ma Du-gwang—decades in the Black Dao—and make him weep.
"Scared? Then draw."
Sring—
Yu-hwa drew Silver Moon Sword, forged by the imperial artisans.
Tat-dak—
The Mount Zhongnan Daoists—save Jin-gyeol—backed away, clearing space.
"You're my senior, so I'll assume you're yielding first strike."
Yu-hwa unleashed Milky Way Steps, gliding smoothly over the ice-like floor, swaying her torso.
Swish—
Her figure split into two in an instant. The afterimage moved so realistically it drew Jin-gyeol's eyes,
and
"Hah!"
Yu-hwa appeared behind him, slashing her sword diagonally in a wide arc.
"There!"
Jin-gyeol twisted his waist on her shout, sensing her position, and swung his sword horizontally.
Fueled by rage at Moo-jin and Yu-hwa, his strike brimmed with un-Daoist killing intent.
Sgak—!
His spinning sword sliced first—gashing her abdomen.
But his blade tip felt nothing.
He'd cut an afterimage.
"…!"
Realizing the trap as he turned—
Tap.
Yu-hwa's Silver Moon Sword kissed his throat.
The shout, the swaying torso—all feints for this single move.
"Divine Wind Sword's not all that. Brother's right—Divine Wind Dog fits better."
She verbally flayed the young Mount Zhongnan Daoist who dared insult Moo-jin.
Divine Wind Dog.
Jin-gyeol's face twisted earthward.
"How…."
As crushing humiliation gripped him and he clenched his sword—
Kwang—!
A massive surge of energy erupted as Kang Moo-jin kicked off, yanking Yu-hwa with one hand and shoving Jin-gyeol with the other.
Thud—!
Jin-gyeol flew airborne from the palm strike, arrowing through the inn's wall and embedding outside.
"B-brother?!"
Yu-hwa flushed as Moo-jin's arm hooked her waist in his grip.
"Rude old coot. That's how Mount Zhongnan teaches?"
"Sharp reflexes for a youngster. But running your mouth like that?"
The elder in the shadowy right corner rose.
His topknot crowned with a Daoist cap—he was the Mount Zhongnan Daoist who'd unleashed a potent finger strike at Yu-hwa moments ago.
"Better than flailing hands wildly."
"Heh heh. Quite the impudent lad. Don't you know who I am?"
"One of Mount Zhongnan's relics?"
"Heh heh. I am Pung-hyeon of Mount Zhongnan."
"Whirlwind Divine Sword?!"
Yu-hwa's face, still in Moo-jin's arms, filled with shock.
Whirlwind Divine Sword Pung-hyeon—Mount Zhongnan's top sword, a transcendent master at the Flower Realm!
A pinnacle swordsman standing opposite Mount Hua's Sword Demon.
And such a giant had appeared in this humble inn.
"Gramps want a go too?"
"Tsk tsk. At my age, swinging a sword? Hardly."
Yet his eyes boiled with fighting spirit.
He craved victory over the youth who'd effortlessly shattered his Moon-Shattering Finger.
"But with my disciple insulted and injured, I can't let it slide."
Kugugu—
As Whirlwind Divine Sword Pung-hyeon raised his aura, nearby tables and chairs rattled violently.
His overwhelming intangible force made the surrounding Mount Zhongnan Daoists stagger.
"…."
But Moo-jin and Yu-hwa behind him stood unmoved.
No effort needed—Pung-hyeon's pressure couldn't pierce him.
"Hoo…."
Interest flickered in Pung-hyeon's eyes.
"Mount Zhongnan's pride demands resolution. How about a simple Remote Palm Clash?"
Remote Palm Clash—a palm technique exploding inner energy at a chosen point.
Jianghu warriors often used it palm-to-palm, ramping up power to burst it in the opponent's meridians first.
A clean test of dense inner energy and precise qi control.
"That's ridiculous…!"
Yu-hwa let out a disbelieving laugh.
Inner energy deepened with time.
A Daoist with over seventy years couldn't match a twenty-five-year-old youth's reserves— the gap was vast.
"Fine. Let's do it."
"Heh heh. Bold—I like it. Give me your palm."
Moo-jin obliged, pressing palms with Pung-hyeon.
"You first?"
"Respect for elders. You start."
"Heh heh. Then I won't hold back."
Pung-hyeon's eyes flashed.
He'd flood this arrogant youth with seventy years' power in one go.
Nothing humbled pride like a stinging defeat.
"Hah!"
Pung-hyeon summoned seventy years from his dantian.
The coiled energy surged like a massive azure dragon up his meridians to his arm,
and
Kwaaaang—!
Pung-hyeon's body rocketed airborne like lightning, smashing through the inn and vanishing outside.
Immortal Diamond Qi Art's immense rebound—unbreached.
"…!"
"…!!"
The Mount Zhongnan Daoists gaped in horror, mouths wide enough for fists.
"Kekeke. Kekekeke! Serves him right. Perfect."
"…?"
Moo-jin cocked his head curiously.
Un-cheon huddled in the corner, face hidden, head on the floor and feet skyward in a bizarre pose.
His face smeared with spicy chicken dish sauce.
"That spicy chicken that good?"
"Y-you bastard! Your qi surge knocked me over!"
Red-faced from sauce and rage, Un-cheon was redder than usual.
"Oh, that? Not some ploy to sauce up and ambush while off-guard?"
"No! No! No!"