Chapter 214
Bu Eun-seol's martial prowess had long since reached a level where he could contend against two Great Righteous Experts.
However, Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong weren't just idling around either.
They had honed their skills through relentless training, their current abilities incomparable to their past selves.
The opening move came from Myo Cheon-u's Seal-Destroying Palm.
The reason the Extinction Palace could stand tall in the Demonic Martial World with nothing but bare hands was because the might of their palm techniques surpassed even that of divine weapons.
Whoosh!
As palm energy surged forth, the rocks around Bu Eun-seol's position were instantly riddled with holes.
Swish!
At that moment, a whip as white as a venomous serpent slipped past the range of the palm energy, aiming straight for Bu Eun-seol's uvula.
Tsk.
But his figure blurred, and the White Horse Whip sliced through empty air. He had begun executing Swift Shadowless.
Swish! Whoosh!
As Langya Pavilion's supreme Body-Locomotion Martial Art fully unfolded, the attacks of the two men continued to slash futilely through empty space.
Seeing Bu Eun-seol evade with such ease, Myo Cheon-u's anger flared, and he violently channeled his true qi.
"You won't be able to dodge this."
Hiss—
Dozens of palm shadows woven through the air suddenly transformed into mist, coiling around Bu Eun-seol's body.
It was the Seal-Destroying Mist Palm he had used to save Seok U-haeng at Longsword Mountain Villa.
Shink!
Meanwhile, Yu Un-ryong's body spun like a top, unleashing a storm of whip shadows toward Bu Eun-seol.
He had employed the White Horse Monastery's ultimate technique, the Whip-Protecting Garment, from a distance.
Bam bam bam bam!
The Seal-Destroying Palm and the White Horse Whip filled the heavens and earth.
Watching this overwhelming combined assault, Bu Eun-seol finally reached behind his back.
Schwing!
A low sword resonance hummed as a cluster of sword blossoms bloomed in the air.
Simultaneously, sword strokes too fast for the eye to distinguish began pouring forth in rapid succession.
Slash slash slash shink!
Sword qi erupting from the tip of the Ink Sword started deflecting the dual supreme arts of the Extinction Palace and White Horse Monastery without leaving a single gap.
"Guh—"
When their martial forms clashed head-on, Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong recoiled as if electrocuted.
The immense internal energy imbued in the Ink Sword had pierced through their bodies like an awl, drilling into their meridians.
Whoosh!
As the two retreated, Bu Eun-seol's sword strokes shifted again.
A dark sword aura surged upward, staining the sky, then began cascading down like torrential rain.
He had consecutively executed Meteor Chasing Moon and Waning Moon Morning Star.
Whoosh!
As if by prior agreement, Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong scattered to either side.
Having realized that a direct clash would result in internal injuries, they completely withdrew from the range of his sword techniques.
"Not a chance!"
Though forced back by superior internal energy, the momentum of Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong remained undiminished.
If anything, they seemed exhilarated, instantly unleashing over a dozen martial forms.
Boom! Shink!
In response, Bu Eun-seol flicked his left finger to release Finger Wind while simultaneously executing a single sword stroke with his right hand.
He had separately unleashed Dark Howl Demon Finger and Ten Thousand Thunder Blood Sword—the supreme arts of Heaven-Severing, Earth-Destroying—with each hand.
Crack!
When he employed the martial arts of Heaven-Severing, Earth-Destroying instead of the Formless Heavenly Flow, Yu Un-ryong and Myo Cheon-u immediately found openings to counterattack.
Hum!
But this was Bu Eun-seol's trap.
Having anticipated their counters, he closed the distance—entwining the White Horse Whip with his Ink Sword while seizing Myo Cheon-u's wrist with his left hand.
He had forced them into an internal energy confrontation.
Hum!
Heat instantly radiated from the three combatants.
'This can't be...'
The eyes of Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong, who were pouring out their internal energy, widened in shock.
Despite combining their forces—both possessing internal energy surpassing a hundred and twenty years (120 years)—Bu Eun-seol was receiving their combined output without visible strain.
Vrrrm!
Realizing they stood no chance in this contest, Yu Un-ryong and Myo Cheon-u immediately disengaged.
Retreating during an internal energy clash normally causes one's meridians to rupture from the opponent's unleashed power.
But they had acted knowing Bu Eun-seol would withdraw his energy the moment he retreated.
As Yu Un-ryong fell back and swung his White Horse Whip, Bu Eun-seol promptly shoved Myo Cheon-u away and retreated.
Kaboom!
A dark pit appeared where Bu Eun-seol had stood moments before.
Though seemingly wielded lightly, the White Horse Whip Technique could slice through iron and shatter boulders.
Moreover, Yu Un-ryong's execution of it reached a level capable of tearing the heavens and shaking the earth.
"..."
The bamboo forest fell dead silent.
The martial display between Bu Eun-seol and the Ten Demonic Heir, resembled a battle between a Heavenly General descending from the skies and a demonic ghost rising from the underworld.
Meanwhile, the three combatants remained locked in fierce exchange for forty more exchanges.
Had Bu Eun-seol unleashed his full combat power without restraint, subduing them would have posed little difficulty.
Caged Bird Longing for Clouds—freely manipulating sword qi. Ten Thousand Swords Return to the Origin—instantly replicating an opponent's movements. Returning God Destroying Earth—piercing through meticulous defenses with 108 variations.
Moreover, he still had the trump card of Fluorescent Sword Control, capable of automatically blocking attacks in response to killing intent.
But what Bu Eun-seol desired was not merely subduing the two men—it was to clash against the Demonic Path Ten Gates' supreme ultimate arts and achieve yet another breakthrough.
He was waiting for Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong to unleash their highest-level ultimate techniques.
"Good!"
Having grasped Bu Eun-seol's intent, Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong finally began channeling their full power, drawing upon their deepest reserves of internal energy.
Yu Un-ryong unleashed Extinction of the World, while Myo Cheon-u executed Seal Annihilating Wall-Breaking Palm.
RUMBLE—!
As the twin supreme martial arts of the Demonic Path Ten Gates cascaded toward him, an enigmatic and mystical light shimmered in Bu Eun-seol's pupils.
Empty Mind Spirit Communion.
This formidable ability of the Beast Path measured the overwhelming might of the incoming martial techniques alongside the strength contained within his own body.
'Impossible.'
The senses of Empty Mind Spirit Communion whispered to him.
With the martial techniques he had displayed thus far, he could not withstand the combined assault of these two ultimate arts.
He needed a new sword stroke—one capable of unleashing every ounce of his immense internal energy.
THUD!
In that instant, all of Bu Eun-seol's internal power drained from his Ink Sword.
For a moment, Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong were stunned.
Even as they witnessed a sword stroke capable of rending heaven and earth, Bu Eun-seol slowly lowered the tip of his sword toward the ground.
It was as if he had given up—like a defeated warrior carelessly letting his blade drop.
'What is this?'
Though bewildered, the two could no longer retract the techniques they had already unleashed.
Just as the twin supreme arts of the Extinction Palace and White Horse Monastery were about to engulf Bu Eun-seol—
CRACK—!
A violent explosion of true qi erupted from his body, golden radiance bursting outward as a pitch-black sword aura surged from the Ink Sword.
FLASH—!
Suddenly, a massive sword aura, vast as storm clouds, expanded in all directions. Simultaneously, the world fell silent, and the sky darkened.
In that same moment, the sword strokes of Seal-Destroying Palm and White Horse Whip that had been raining down upon Bu Eun-seol vanished without a trace.
THUD-THUD.
The bodies of Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong were flung hundreds of feet back, their sleeves reduced to tatters.
Both men had suffered severe internal injuries, their faces drained entirely of blood.
"What kind of sword technique is this?"
At Myo Cheon-u's question, Bu Eun-seol—who had been standing in a daze, as if lost in a dream—spoke.
"Lament by the River."
"Lament by the River?"
"It was only a theoretical concept—one I had yet to execute... The eighth form of Formless Heavenly Flow."
No matter how many sword strokes the enemy unleashed, only a single weapon could ever touch his body.
Lament by the River was an Ultimate Counterattack Form—one that calculated the enemy's decisive strike in an instant and retaliated in a single blow.
But to perfect this sword form, he needed a technique capable of blocking any kind of attack.
And by utilizing the Willful True Binding—which allowed him to materialize true qi into any conceivable form—Bu Eun-seol had finally completed it.
Hiss—
White steam rose from Bu Eun-seol's body.
The strain of using Willful True Binding had caused his qi vessels to seethe and his meridians to twist in agony. Yet, he wore a bright smile.
'The path is becoming clearer.'
If he could refine Willful True Binding even further and fully master the sword stroke of Lament by the River—
Then he would be ready to face the Beggar King in a decisive battle of Heaven and Earth One Throw.
Snow Fragrance Garden was the most renowned courtesan house in the Bu Estate.
The cost of its wine was unimaginably extravagant, and its singing girls and dancing maidens were all peerless beauties, unmatched in both artistry and grace.
Moreover, the courtesans here did not sell their bodies unless they wished to, making it impossible for lecherous troublemakers to even approach.
Thus, Snow Fragrance Garden was known exclusively as a gathering place for the region's elite—nobles, magnates, and high-ranking officials.
"Bring her out at once!"
Just then, curses shattered the tranquil atmosphere of Snow Fragrance Garden, followed by the clamor of a commotion.
CLACK!
Guests in the pavilion flung open their windows, peering down below.
Near the entrance, a drunken man and a group of attendants were locked in a heated argument.
"Jin-won! Where the hell are you hiding? I don't even see a glimpse of you!"
Jin-won was the most talented courtesan of Snow Fragrance Garden—a woman of unparalleled beauty and exceptional zither skills.
"Bring her to me immediately! Hurry!"
As the man bellowed, one of the attendants grabbed his sleeve.
"She is currently entertaining a distinguished guest at Snow Sound Pavilion. How can we suddenly summon her?"
"Hah! Do you know who I am?"
The man shook off the attendant's hand, his voice thick with intoxication.
"I've taken precious time to come here—are you telling me I can't even see Jin-won?"
"Young Master—"
"Hmph! Are you worried I can't pay?"
The man yanked out a thick wad of banknotes and flung them into the attendant's face.
"Hurry up and bring her here!"
The scattered banknotes on the ground amounted to at least ten thousand taels.
From the looks of it, he was the spoiled scion of a wealthy family.
"Bring her to me now! Immediately!"
THUD.
As the man continued his uproar, the third-floor window of the West Fragrance Pavilion—located to the east—swung open, and a low voice rang out.
"Listen here, young man. This Snow Fragrance Garden is frequented by many distinguished guests. Stop making a scene and leave quietly."
"Hahaha! Distinguished guests? Since when do pleasure houses have distinguished guests?"
The man let out a raucous laugh as he glanced around.
"Men come to courtesan houses for one thing—to get their hands on pretty courtesans!"
"Young Master, if you continue like this, we'll have no choice but to intervene!"
As the man's tantrum escalated, attendants from the West Fragrance Pavilion rushed over to drag him away.
"No choice, you say? Hahaha."
But the man, seemingly trained in martial arts, effortlessly flung aside the burly attendants who prided themselves on their strength, laughing all the while.
"How dare you lay hands on this nobleman's person!"
"Hoh."
From the third floor of the pavilion, another weary voice drifted down.
"What a wretched fool. We're in the middle of important discussions—remove him at once."
At that, the doors of the West Fragrance Pavilion swung open, and out strode a powerfully built middle-aged man with the shoulders of a bear and the waist of a tiger.
Strangely, though his robes were of fine, immaculate fabric, faint traces of wear were visible around the sleeves.
"Hah, so even beggars frequent blue pavilions now?"
At the man's words, the middle-aged man's thick brows twitched.
"Young friend, you've had too much to drink. Best go home."
"If I wanted to leave, I'd do so on my own. Don't trouble yourself."
"Seems polite words won't work."
Realizing further talk was pointless, the middle-aged man reached for the drunkard's shoulder.
The movement appeared merely restraining, but in truth, his fingers carried enough internal power to snap the bones of an ox.
He intended to dislocate the man's shoulder in one swift motion—inflict enough pain to sober him up.
Crunch!
A dull cracking sound echoed through the air.
But something was wrong.
Instead of the drunkard, it was the middle-aged man who grimaced and staggered back, clutching his hand.
"Guh—"
Fingers clenched, he let out a pained groan.
The moment he had channeled his fierce internal power into his fingertips to dislocate the drunkard's shoulder, his own fingers had bent the wrong way.
"For his body to be this hard..."
The Shoulder Well pressure point, located between the neck and shoulder, was sensitive even for those untrained in martial arts.
Yet this man had toughened that vulnerable spot enough to repel a finger reinforced with internal power?
Could it be that this ruffian had mastered an external martial art like the Iron Cloth Stance?
"As expected of a beggar—rough hands and a foul stench."
The drunkard pointed at the torn shoulder of his fine silk robe where the middle-aged man's fingers had pierced through.
"You filthy beggar's ruined my expensive clothes. Got the coin to pay for it?"
"You think learning some crude external martial art makes you special?"
Crack.
As the middle-aged man forced strength back into his fingers, the sound of bone resetting echoed, and an overwhelming energy surged forth.
"Let me show you—there are heavens beyond heavens."
Thud! Boom! Crack!
A series of heavy impacts resounded across the pavilion's courtyard.
Indeed, there were heavens beyond heavens.
The only problem was that the "heaven" in question wasn't the middle-aged man—but the drunken troublemaker.
"You lowly beggar, forgetting your place!"
Thud. Thud.
With each kick from the drunkard, the middle-aged man curled up like a pill bug.
The strikes seemed effortless, yet every time a foot connected, his bones screamed, and his strength drained away.
How... is this possible?
Lying on the ground, the middle-aged man's eyes had lost focus.
He was Je No-sam, the Incense Master of the Beggars' Sect.
His epithet—Soaring Hawk Peak.
A master of close-quarters combat, having trained in the Black Net True Fist, one of the Beggars' Sect's secret arts, to at least the Eighth-Star Attainment.
Yet here he was, rolling on the ground like a dog, unable to block the drunken brute's kicks?
"E-enough!"
As Je No-sam screamed in agony, the drunkard finally stopped.
"Then bring her out."
"Who...?"
"Jin-won. Bring her here."
"What kind of nonsense—"
Je No-sam's words were cut short.
The kicks resumed.
"Hoh. So it seems we have a young master among us."
A deep sigh came from the third floor, and before anyone realized it, an old man had descended before Je No-sam.
"To render our Incense Master, a practitioner of the Black Net True Fist, helpless with mere kicks..."
The old man narrowed his long, slitted eyes.
"Which sect do you hail from?"
"These beggars are a joke."
The drunkard pointed at the white-haired elder with a sneer.
"If you're beggars, then beg outside like proper ones. What business do you have crawling into a courtesan house that charges three hundred taels per table?"
"Mind your tongue."
The old man's eyes flashed.
"Though our sect walks the Righteous Path, we are not so lenient as to tolerate insolent curs."
"How righteous of you."
The drunkard smirked.
"Is it the Righteous Faction's way to sell high-grade intelligence for lavish rewards and fat profits?"
"..."
"Especially the master of the Hair-Fine Division—one of the Eight Routes responsible for sorting critical intelligence before it reaches the Beggars' Sect's headquarters?"
Murmur, murmur.
Instantly, whispers erupted from all corners of the pavilion.
Snow Fragrance Pavilion was a place frequented by high-ranking officials and elites of all circles.
Yet the master of the Hair-Fine Division—a key figure in the Beggars' Sect—was selling intelligence in exchange for luxury treatment?
"Who are you?"
The old man's expression turned glacial.
He had realized—this man wasn't drunk.
He had come here to pick a fight.