Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: First Steps into Jianghu, and the Bewitching Woman (7)
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The top floor of Elegant Flower Pavilion, after Mok Ri-won had left.
Hwa Seo stared out the window, still dazed.
The view was the largest boulevard in Suyang County, and at its end stood the One Wheel Society's compound.
- Come back safe.
His voice still lingered in her ears.
The face that had smirked so handsomely despite everything.
Grip—.
Hwa Seo clenched her fist tightly as she blankly recalled them.
"You idiot…."
No one in the world could be that stupid.
He really should have died young.
She tried to push him from her mind with such thoughts, but she couldn't.
Because, in the end, his words rang true.
- A righteous man does not kneel. In truth, it's the opposite. It's the wicked who must kneel and beg for their lives.
His words stirred a desire in the listener to lean on him.
- A hero never yields to bandits. It's a line from the Sword Hero in the first chapter of Tales of the Jianghu Heroes.
His unquestioning righteousness was so pure and lovely that Hwa Seo twisted her expression every which way.
"…So-hyang."
"Yes."
"How far had Pyo San's realm progressed?"
"When we fled, he was in the heart of the Pinnacle Realm."
"Five years have passed. What do you think now?"
"…Pyo San was a favorite of the Clan Leader. He reached the Pinnacle Realm at twenty-seven, and it took him three years to master it. In the worst case, he's now at the edge of the Pinnacle Realm."
So Hyang bowed her head even lower.
Hwa Seo let out a breath and murmured.
"…He has no chance of winning."
She spoke while thinking of Mok Ri-won.
Hwa Seo knew.
He was undoubtedly talented.
She didn't know who had taught him, but he must have received all sorts of spirit medicines and supreme techniques from some renowned master of old, undergoing training beyond anyone's imagination.
That was why he possessed such skill at his age.
'But….'
The problem was exactly that.
He was too young.
It was worthy of awe that he had reached what seemed the cusp of first-rate at his age, but in this vast jianghu, how many hadn't reached that realm?
The very opponent he faced was a warrior at the pinnacle of the Pinnacle Realm.
"…Such an idiot."
Utterly foolish.
He, charging into death chasing romance; his limbs, who stayed by her side instead of fleeing; and even herself.
Hwa Seo rose from her seat.
"Miss…?"
"Let's go. Yes, that idiot said one true thing, didn't he?"
So Hyang looked up at Hwa Seo.
On her face as she gazed far out the window toward the One Wheel Society's halls.
"From the start, we who have committed no crime have no reason to run."
It was a smile of pure relief.
Hwa Seo's gaze turned to So Hyang and the other attendants.
"If our lives are rotten to the core anyway, let's resist at the end at least once."
She extended her hand.
So Hyang took it with a smile.
*
Pyo San looked at Mok Ri-won.
'Sword qi.'
The man glaring at him while leaking streams of inky sword qi might become the new star of the righteous martial world.
No, at that young age, he could already emit sword qi, so he surely would.
'What a pity.'
If only he hadn't met me, that would have been his path.
Clack—.
Pyo San drew the daggers from his waist.
Three between the fingers of each hand, six in total.
"Forgive me if you can."
The young man's words were perfectly right.
What he was doing sullied the name of the righteous martial world upheld by his seniors.
Yet it was something he had to do.
Because he was a man who valued loyalty over grand justice.
"I'll remember you."
Pyo San's arm flicked.
The daggers scattered like a mirage.
They all shot toward Mok Ri-won at once.
Clang—!
Mok Ri-won swung his sword to deflect them.
He prepared to charge at Pyo San.
In that instant.
Shhh—.
Mok Ri-won felt chills run through his entire body.
'Killing intent!'
Sensing the anomaly, Mok Ri-won twisted to look behind him.
Six daggers, cloaked in dark cyan qi, twisted their paths midair and shot toward him.
Thuk—.
The hurled daggers embedded in Mok Ri-won's body.
Silence fell.
Mok Ri-won halted abruptly and looked at the daggers in his body.
He gnashed his teeth and gripped them.
"Hup—!"
With a shout, he yanked out the six daggers.
His face fiercely furrowed as he glared at Pyo San.
Pyo San let out admiration at his spirit.
"A true hero!"
Rising bloodied against an unbeatable foe—that was exactly the proper form.
That was why Pyo San felt irony in this encounter.
'If not for this situation, I could have given him a pointer or two.'
What an absurd fate.
Of all times, he had to meet him now, when he couldn't claim righteousness, when he had to erase even his presence here. It felt profoundly regrettable.
But he couldn't let him live.
'No one can know of today.'
All except Hwa Seo, whom he would escort back, had to prove their silence with death.
Pyo San snapped his fingers, channeling qi.
The daggers scattered on the ground floated up and flew into his grasp.
Shhh—.
Dark cyan qi surged around Pyo San's body.
"Here I come again."
As he spoke, Mok Ri-won exhaled and regripped his sword.
His expression was savagely distorted, his breathing ragged and heaving.
Pyo San knew.
The common flaw of such young experts.
'Lack of experience.'
Peerless techniques and profound inner strength.
The finest masters.
Nine out of ten disciples of prestigious righteous sects grew up in such greenhouses—that was their shared issue.
Flowers blooming brilliantly in a greenhouse know nothing of the world's harsh winds.
Pyo San hurled the daggers again.
He leaped high to widen the distance from the charging Mok Ri-won.
Thuk—!
This time, three.
They pierced his right shoulder, forearm, and left thigh.
But it wasn't over.
Pyo San's art truly shone at the Pinnacle Realm, where he could emit qi.
Shadow Flying Dagger.
A dagger technique that infused errant throws with inner force, making them strike like shadows.
The missed daggers, falling to the ground, cloaked in dark cyan qi.
Then shot toward Mok Ri-won once more.
Thuk—!
It was one-sided.
This time, three squarely in his back.
Mok Ri-won pulled them out again, and Pyo San dodged the foal-like charge, reclaiming his daggers.
Probably end in the next exchange or the one after.
Composing himself with that thought, Pyo San hurled them anew.
And.
Chiaeng—!
His prediction missed by a laughably wide margin.
*
At fifteen, Mok Ri-won had a question.
"Master, when will I learn practical application?"
"Hm?"
"All the heroes in Tales of the Jianghu Heroes fully utilize their arts, but I've only learned the basic forms and conditioning from you."
That his learning was too slow.
No—Mok Seon-o taught him too little.
At the time, Mok Ri-won thirsted for knowledge.
He was also growing weary of repeating the basics in his vigorous youth.
Why only basics still?
To the fifteen-year-old Mok Ri-won's question, Mok Seon-o replied with a fond smile.
"Because you don't need to learn."
"Pardon?"
That day, Mok Seon-o placed a hand atop Mok Ri-won's head, stroking it gently, and added.
"You'll know without learning, so you needn't worry about it."
Words whose meaning escaped him.
Words that bred frustration.
In truth, even now at eighteen, out in the jianghu, it had remained a mystery.
Mok Ri-won finally understood those words in this moment.
*
Mok Ri-won deflected the six hurled daggers with three sword strokes.
He extended his qi sense.
'They're coming back.'
He felt it.
The qi flows twisting oddly, the killing intent shooting toward him.
The body parts they targeted prickled with pain.
'Three to the back. One each behind the knees, and the nape.'
Heart and lungs, stomach, joints and spine.
Lethal strikes, each a death sentence or mortal wound.
Mok Ri-won steadied his breath and twisted his body.
Chiaeng—!
He deflected them once more.
'This ends it.'
From the prior two times, the daggers twisted course only once.
It made sense.
Daggers freely dancing in the air—that was the realm of Sword Control, possible only in Transcendence.
His foe was solidly Pinnacle Realm.
The art's principle: inner force loaded onto daggers propelled them to calculated spots.
Mok Ri-won's eyes gleamed coldly.
'Now!'
He unleashed inner force from his dantian, spreading it through his body.
The power of Star-Link Divine Art at the 3rd Star dyed his inky sword qi deeply.
The qi, which he'd thought savage, found a rare outlet to rampage and screamed in joy.
Boom!
Just stepping shook the ground with a roar.
Pyo San gasped at Mok Ri-won's unprecedented speed.
In this moment, he drew the short sword from his waist.
Chiaeng—!
Sword met sword.
Inner forces clashed.
As dark cyan and inky qi auras swelled, devouring each other, Pyo San felt deep shock.
'How?'
How had he predicted the Shadow Flying Dagger's path?
How had he grasped its weakness in just two exchanges?
Shadow Flying Dagger prized stealth.
Simple qi alone couldn't reveal its targets.
Kigig—!
Swords ground, sparks flying.
Pyo San gnashed his teeth, glaring at Mok Ri-won.
There was something Pyo San didn't know.
"Don't resist!"
The brash young expert who spouted whatever came to mind.
What star he was born under.
Chiaeng—!
Heavenly Slaughter Star.
The star of heaven-sent slaughter.
Merely bearing it specialized one for killing.
Traits emerged accordingly.
His two masters, Mok Seon-o and Ma Il-seok, knew; Pyo San did not.
Mok Ri-won could read killing intent.
Its direction, intent, the depth of malice and emotion within.
One born for slaughter could perceive malice aimed at him in every living breath.
But was that all?
Would that alone make the Slaughter Star quake the land in fear?
No.
Chaeng—!
Chiaeng—!
Swords clash and part.
They glance off, tear, then slide away.
In that flow, Pyo San realized an unbelievable truth.
'Growth…!'
The opponent clashing swords with him now grew with every exchange.
No—he was adapting to his sword.
Pyo San couldn't comprehend it, but it was natural.
Chiaeng—!
To repeat: Mok Ri-won had learned only basic forms and conditioning.
This was meticulously planned by Mok Seon-o and Ma Il-seok.
His two masters, sending him into the jianghu, worried about only one thing.
- Restrain your killing intent.
Controlling his bloodlust, the frenzy that seized him at the sight of blood.
The reason was simple.
No matter how prettily packaged, martial arts' essence was harming foes.
Killing, in other words.
And Heavenly Slaughter Star was for slaughter.
As with Three Great Heavenly Demons I Mu-baek, Sword Ghost Seo Woo-jin, Demonic Sword O Chun.
Mok Ri-won was the same.
Since martial arts served killing, he was a peerless genius.
Since martial arts served killing, in instinct's realm, he wielded infinite variations on forms.
From the start, mere basics posed no barrier.
Slice—.
Pyo San's right wrist was severed.