Chapter 17
I steadied my breathing and began gathering my inner energy. A scent of plum blossoms spilled out along the blade, and before long I was moving the sword in a trance, beyond thought.
"Baekga Seven Sword Style, First Sword. Illusion."
Countless sword paths piled one upon another, sketching out plum blossoms in the air. Then those blossoms began carving mercilessly into the ten-thousand-year cold iron wall.
Thud.
"Damn it."
Even after pouring out every last drop of inner energy in my dantian, not so much as a tiny sword mark remained on the ten-thousand-year cold iron. Well, how could a mere first-rank martial artist cut through ten-thousand-year cold iron?
"If this were the old days, I wouldn't have to struggle over something like ten-thousand-year cold iron."
I let out a short lament and settled into breathing exercises. If I still had my past cultivation, I would have split this thing in one stroke. But with my current level, I couldn't even leave a scratch. There was no point lingering on what I'd lost.
I started sorting through my thoughts.
The reason I'd bought this inn? Obviously because I knew the Treasury of the Divine Thief was hidden here. The information the Murim Alliance had recorded about the treasury went only as far as its location. There was nothing about how the entrance was built, how it opened, or anything else.
Haa... What a headache.
The Namgung Family and the Iron Blood Castle fought for influence in Zhejiang, and it eventually came to open conflict. And at that very moment, the Treasury of the Divine Thief was opened.
As a result, the struggle between Namgung and Iron Blood spread so widely that both the righteous and the wicked suffered heavy losses in combat strength.
That was the history of the treasury as I knew it. Right, the records said it was opened, but not who opened it. Not even who got what treasures out of it.
An intentional leak, then. But who...
After finishing my breathing exercises, I placed my hand against the treasury entrance. A faint vibration pulsed beneath my palm. So I pressed my ear to the wall.
Clink, clink.
I could hear the mechanism moving. I stared in bewilderment. I had no choice but to, because what I was hearing made no sense.
"Don't tell me this is... a mechanism?"
What was ten-thousand-year cold iron?
It wasn't just something you could buy with money. It was a precious material that was hard enough to refine, let alone obtain.
And they made a mechanism out of it?
"This is getting even more interesting."
Yes. A mechanism made of ten-thousand-year cold iron. This wasn't just a mechanism. It was an unbreakable fortress. The word impregnable fit it perfectly.
I wondered what the Divine Thief had hidden in here to prepare this thoroughly. But one thing was certain: whatever was inside had to be important. And if this was a mechanism, then there had to be a way to open it.
I quickly searched my surroundings. As expected, the first thing that caught my eye was the sword marks carved into the ten-thousand-year cold iron. On careful inspection, the one who left them behind was at minimum someone who had crossed beyond the wall of the Martial Pinnacle. No, even saying Martial Pinnacle felt wrong.
This is...
As I traced the sword marks with my finger, I flinched.
For a moment I even wondered if someone had simply vented their rage on an unopenable door, but then I realized these were traces of martial arts.
"Now this is a real monster..."
Someone had deliberately engraved martial arts into the ten-thousand-year cold iron.
And reproducing that, surely, was the way to open the mechanism.
I sat down on the floor again. Then, starting from the beginning of the sword form, I began reading through the flow of the martial art slowly. I couldn't tell what school it belonged to, but I was certain of one thing. I would find that martial art inside my own head.
Fated, isn't it.
The thought struck me that all those years spent wandering the Central Plains, collecting and mastering countless martial arts, had been for this very moment.
"Hmm... this is..."
I studied the sword marks for so long I had no idea how much time had passed. The conclusion I reached was this.
These were sword marks containing the essence of the Strong Sword.
"A Strong Sword..."
I called up the many forms of Strong Sword stored in my mind and began tracing the technique from the very beginning of the carved marks. And then.
"Namgung."
It was a Namgung sword art. That much was clear. But it was also unmistakably different from the Namgung sword arts I knew.
"So primitive."
Martial arts were passed down through generations, and with each generation they were refined to suit the times. But refinement did not always mean progress.
Sometimes they were degraded to make them easier to learn, sometimes adapted and subdivided to fit circumstances.
In that sense, the sword art before me must have been the source, the root, of the Namgung sword arts.
Every fragment of the Namgung sword arts I knew seemed to be melted into this one style.
That was why it had taken me so long to realize these sword marks belonged to Namgung.
"Shall I try it?"
Once my dantian was full of inner energy again, I got to my feet and took a starting stance. Then I began unleashing Namgung martial arts over the sword marks someone else had carved.
From Wind-Sky Sword Technique to Boundless Sky Sword Technique. And finally even the Emperor Sword Form.
"Huu."
But the ten-thousand-year cold iron gave no response at all, leaving not even the faintest trace behind.
"Is this not it?"
I looked at the ten-thousand-year cold iron again. It almost seemed to be telling me, Someone like you can't possibly cut me.
That only made me more stubborn.
"Let's see who wins."
I raised my inner energy, took my stance, and swung the sword. As my blade swept across the sword marks, I heard the mechanism begin to move with a creak.
Wind-Sky Sword Technique.
As I swung, sword wind began to rake past me and burst outward in all directions. Without stopping, I moved through the Wind-Sky Sword Technique at speed. It felt as natural as breathing.
Boundless Sky Sword Technique.
The moment I began to unfold the Boundless Sky Sword Technique, an unease stirred through my body. Even so, the insights I'd accumulated were so profound that there was no problem controlling the martial art.
Emperor Sword Form.
"Huff..."
The problem was the Emperor Sword Form. The more I unfolded the sword art, the rougher my breathing became, bursting heavily out through my lungs. The instant I entered the Emperor Sword Form, the inner energy in my dantian began burning away at an incredible pace.
Don't stop.
The thought flashed through me that I must not halt the sword of my own accord. Every time I raised the blade and moved to execute the next motion, my body grew heavier, and my dantian felt like it was heating to a red-hot fury.
I could feel the inner energy in my dantian drying up in real time, as if all the moisture in my body were being sucked away. And still I did not stop. A few times my body rebelled, as though begging me to end it there. Then, at some point, no thought remained at all.
"Kiiiiiik."
As the sword passed over the carved paths, it scraped against the ten-thousand-year cold iron, and new marks began to appear. No, "appear" wasn't quite right. It felt more like I was layering my blade over traces already carved by another hand.
As the sword marks on the ten-thousand-year cold iron multiplied, the mechanism's sounds grew louder and louder, and then, at last, when I drew the final slash downward.
"It's open."
The ten-thousand-year cold iron shifted left and right, and the wall itself began to open like a door. Before me, blinding light burst into view.
"This is more than I expected."
To be precise, there were noctilucent pearls hung all over the stone walls and treasures filling the room to the brim.
"I'm rich now."
I had never once thought of myself as greedy for wealth. I had become the strongest in the world by relying on my own strength alone, so money had never seemed important to me. But even I was left wide-eyed by the sheer amount of treasure packed into this room.
Yet I couldn't step forward lightly. Because between the treasures, there was something strange.
"Quite the ugly taste. Is this another security measure?"
Bodies stood interspersed among the treasure.
To be exact, they were a crowd of jiangshi. They didn't move, just stood there staring at the treasure like soldiers assigned to guard it. I took one breath, then approached the door slowly.
Tap.
At that moment I felt something catch on my foot. My gaze followed it downward.
What had snagged my foot was a small altar. What was remarkable was that until just now, I hadn't been able to see it at all. I studied the altar carefully. The smell of burning incense was strong around it. I came to the conclusion that this altar had been hidden by sorcery.
So the treasury had not only a mechanism, but sorcery as well.
"Well, they did hide this much wealth in here. I suppose something like this is nothing."
Thinking that the Divine Thief's greed must have been beyond imagination, I stepped over the altar and into the treasury.
The moment I set foot inside, the many jiangshi standing there all turned their gaze toward me at once. My hand tightened on my sword before I even realized it.
But after that brief glance, they turned their eyes forward again and showed no further movement. I looked at the jiangshi.
"These are all dead jiangshi."
The ones standing here were dead-bodied jiangshi, the kind made from corpses. Jiangshi themselves were rare enough, but dead jiangshi were the weakest and most common among them. I lightly tapped a few of them, but none moved.
I briefly wondered whether I should cut off their heads, but since they weren't moving right now, I didn't want to stir them up and risk provoking a reaction or interfering with the mechanism.
"With my current level, these are easy enough to deal with anyway..."
I ignored the dead jiangshi and looked over the treasures around me. It was an absurd amount of wealth, no matter how I looked at it, but my attention wasn't on the gold.
"Is it only money?"
The Divine Thief was a notorious bandit who had plundered the homes of the most powerful people in the Central Plains. So what I had wanted from the Divine Thief's treasury wasn't this kind of treasure, but something that could improve my inner energy.
For instance, elixirs or spirit pills. But this room was filled only with wealth.
"Did I go through all this trouble for nothing?"
I finished checking every corner of the room and stopped at the wall opposite the entrance, the wall of ten-thousand-year cold iron. It, too, had been made from ten-thousand-year cold iron.
But this time, there were no sword marks carved into it.
"Another wall?"
I reached out and placed my hand against the ten-thousand-year cold iron wall again. Once more, I felt the faint vibration of a mechanism moving. The moment I lifted my hand.
Kiiiiik!
I heard the sound of the ten-thousand-year cold iron wall behind me, the entrance to this room, closing.
"No...!"
I immediately flung myself toward the door with light-footwork, but just as I reached it, there was a heavy thud and the door shut completely.
I unfolded the Namgung sword arts again, but the door gave no response.
"I'm in trouble."
I was trapped. The ten-thousand-year cold iron door had closed, and it wouldn't open the same way it had before. I pressed my ear to it again, but there was no sound of the mechanism moving.
There was no way I could cut this door open with my current ability, so there was only one method left.
"I have to open the door ahead."
I walked back to the second ten-thousand-year cold iron wall. With that, I recalled what had happened when I failed to open this door.
I'll starve to death and be buried here with those jiangshi.
For a moment, a chill ran down my spine. This place could have become my grave.
"I will open this door, no matter what."
Once again, I examined the wall carefully. But this time there were no sword marks, no traces of any kind. It was, quite literally, just a wall of ten-thousand-year cold iron.
I sat down where I was, resumed my breathing exercises, and recovered my inner energy. Then, just as I had done with the first door, I unfolded the Namgung Family's sword arts.
"Huff, huff..."
Again I felt my inner energy dry up, and my breathing began to break apart. But I couldn't stop. With no traces at all to go on, the Namgung martial arts that opened the first door were my only clue.
So I filled my inner energy again and again, and repeated Namgung's martial arts over and over.
But the door neither opened nor even took a scratch.
"Huff, huff... Damn it! How the hell am I supposed to open this thing?"
Sweat soaked my entire body. I flopped down on the bare floor. Repeating this only piled frustration higher and higher inside me. Lying there, I stared at the ceiling, then began retracing the sword marks I had seen at the start.
Who was the one who carved those sword marks?
Was it the Divine Thief who left the marks on this ten-thousand-year cold iron wall? No, it couldn't have been. The one who left them was at least a martial artist beyond the Martial Pinnacle, and the sword art engraved there was Namgung's.
Namgung's martial arts.
So far, I had only been thinking about how to open this door. And I had concluded that the answer was Namgung's martial arts, because the first door had opened with them.
But what if the method of opening this door was not simply Namgung's martial arts?
...
Right. Opening this door wasn't just a matter of unfolding Namgung's martial arts. If Namgung's martial arts alone could open it, there would be no reason to prepare another door at all.
I extended my sword toward the ten-thousand-year cold iron wall again. But this time, it wasn't Namgung's sword.
It was my own sword.
Baekga Seven Sword Art, Second Form: Strong.
The instant I swung at the ten-thousand-year cold iron, fierce killing intent erupted outward. A sword of strength that could shatter any mountain. That was the essence of the Strong Sword as I understood it. So my blade began cutting into the wall without a moment's hesitation.
Kiiik.
The instant my blade bit into the ten-thousand-year cold iron, I heard the mechanism start to move.
This is it.
I was sure the door would open. That certainty filled me, and I drove even more force into the movement of my sword. With the will to break it apart no matter what.
Clink, clink.
The farther I reached through the sword form, the louder the mechanism screamed.
It's done.
I slammed the final strike of the form into the ten-thousand-year cold iron wall.
"Hah, hah."
My breathing burst out rough once more. But my gaze never wavered from the wall.
Kiiik.
The door should have opened. There had definitely been a reaction. But the ten-thousand-year cold iron wall only made a weak, useless scraping sound and showed no further response.
"Damn it!"
Frustration flared up. The mechanism had clearly reacted to my sword. But the ten-thousand-year cold iron hadn't opened. I glared at it, then thought again of the sword marks someone had carved.
Those sword marks are the key to all these mechanisms. They have to be. The only clue I've found after entering the treasury is the sword marks.
I began overlaying the sword marks over the ten-thousand-year cold iron wall before me. At the same time, I overlaid the Strong Sword I had just used onto the wall.
The two sword marks shimmered in my mind's eye. The sword paths engraved into them were identical.
"Then what exactly is different?"
Without thinking about anything else, I focused on what made them different. And then I reached the answer.
"The control of power..."
The control of power. That was the difference. My Strong Sword never wavered. It was a killing sword whose purpose was to crush the enemy. But the Strong Sword carved into the sword marks was different.
At times it was loose, at times faint. But on the final strike that cut down the enemy, it never wavered.
For an instant, I thought I heard someone's voice in my ear.
Simply swinging hard is not what makes a Strong Sword.
It felt as if I'd been struck on the head with a hammer. I raised my sword again and took my stance. This time, unlike before, I swung lightly. And at certain moments, I let the blade grow faint before swinging lightly again.
A sword art that would be hard to call a Strong Sword began to unfold. And yet I could feel it. This Strong Sword was the hardest to wield of any Strong Sword I had ever used in my life.
The sword form was racing toward its end, yet the sound of the mechanism still hadn't come. Still I did not stop. I swung the sword and focused everything on controlling the strength. And when the final move of the form arrived, I poured in all the inner energy I had left and drew the last slash.
Baekga Seven Sword Art, Second Form: Strong.
The moment the final strike touched the wall, a long sword mark began to appear on the wall that had shown no trace until now. At the same time, with a harsh clatter, the mechanism started moving.
I was excited. Because the ten-thousand-year cold iron door had opened? No. It was the invincible realization I had gained, the one I had never known before, that made my heart race.
Yes. A Strong Sword isn't simply a sword swung with force. To wield a Strong Sword, not every sword I use can be strong.
The Strong Sword is a sword meant for the final strike.
As my thoughts settled, the mechanism's sound stopped. Then a new sword mark began to form on the wall.
- Martial God Art
The sword mark was a set of characters. The character for martial, meaning mighty, and the character for god, meaning none.
It looked like a pun, but it felt as if the words were speaking directly to me.
"Martial God Art? A martial art that becomes a Martial God, yet is not a Martial God..."
I had a feeling the person who carved these characters was the same one who left the sword marks. I clasped my hands and bowed my head slightly. Whatever the case, I had gained insight from this person.
When I raised my head again, the ten-thousand-year cold iron wall began opening to both sides. And once more, an unseen altar appeared with the smell of burning incense.
"Shall we go in?"
I immediately entered the next room through the doorway. Since I had found a vast fortune in the previous room, there had to be something here too.
But contrary to my expectations, this room wasn't special. If anything, it was plain. The room was small, and the structure was simple.
The only things visible were a throne-like seat that looked almost like an altar, and a single jiangshi sitting upon it.
A jiangshi sitting on a throne-like seat. There was something deeply strange about it. The jiangshi I'd seen so far were what I would call corpses, but this one was different. There was color in its face, and it looked almost alive. It was as though it existed on an entirely different level from the ones before it.
So I didn't let my guard down and walked toward the throne-like seat.
"An awakened jiangshi..."
The jiangshi sitting there was an awakened jiangshi. I couldn't be completely certain since I had never seen one in person, but it looked like an awakened jiangshi made from a living human.
Unlike dead jiangshi, awakened jiangshi could use the martial arts they had in life, which made them incomparably stronger and more dangerous. If this awakened jiangshi moved, I doubted I could survive with my current strength.
Please, don't move.
Silently praying that it would stay still, I searched around the awakened jiangshi. Something had to appear now. An elixir, a manual, anything.
But there was nothing around the awakened jiangshi either. Without meaning to, I let out a hollow laugh.
"Were you really just a thief after all, Divine Thief?"
Had no one ever raided the Divine Thief's treasury in the first place, because there was really nothing here? Or had the Divine Thief spread these ridiculous rumors and tried to lure martial artists to their deaths? Still, the fact that he'd made this many jiangshi alone was already insane, I thought, and then I saw it.
The jiangshi's robe pocket was bulging just a little. Without the slightest hesitation, I reached straight into the pocket.
"Damn it."
Of course, the instant I shoved my hand inside, the jiangshi's eyes flew wide open.