The Sword Immortal's Enlightenment
The Sword Immortal gazed at the sun beyond the bamboo forest stretching toward the sky. How long had it been since the sun was still in the sky when he fought in earnest? Ever since he created the Falling Sun Swordplay, whenever the Sword Immortal gave his all, he would always bring the sun crashing down. It wasn’t merely to seize the psychological advantage. The Falling Sun Swordplay was a technique that simultaneously felled the sun and created a battlefield advantageous to himself. The sight of the sun’s descent was precisely the moment when the Sword Immortal could unleash his full power. It was rare indeed for the sun to remain overhead when this old man drew his sword.
But today was different.
After his defeat at the hands of Min-ga last time, the Sword Immortal had pondered what had gone wrong. He swung his sword relentlessly, thinking and thinking again in search of the answer. At the end of his torment, the conclusion he reached was his own carelessness. He was a swordsman, yet at the same time a practitioner of Taoist magic. The reason he had first learned Dosul was simply to alleviate the boredom of the long years that came after achieving ascension. He had thought of it as nothing more than picking up a trivial skill. But over time, things changed. Having realized the possibilities of Dosul, he wondered if he could blend swordsmanship and Taoist magic together—and he had succeeded in producing results. His sword was both swordsmanship and Taoist magic, and his Taoist magic was both Taoist magic and swordsmanship.
The Sword Immortal had come to see that as a mistake. He believed it was a sin to turn his eyes elsewhere instead of seeking the end solely through the sword. What business did a martial artist have with Taoist magic? If there was something he wanted to do, something he wished to achieve, something he sought to overcome, he must accomplish it with his own martial arts. Having reached that conclusion, the Sword Immortal began stripping away the influence of Dosul from his sword one by one. He filled the space of the blade with nothing but pure swordsmanship.
And today. To test whether that conclusion was right or wrong, the Sword Immortal had challenged the one who had broken him—and been shattered once more.
“It’s difficult. So very difficult.”
He was now paying the price for having turned his eyes to something other than swordsmanship. It had not been a mere few decades since the Sword Immortal decided to combine swordsmanship and Dosul. Ever since he created the Falling Sun Swordplay long ago, he had believed it was correct and walked only that path. Having never once stumbled during all that time, he had no reason to doubt or reconsider the road he walked. But after suffering a crushing defeat today and looking back, he realized he had been walking an entirely different path from what he had originally desired. When he discovered that his past self and his present self were not so different in terms of swordsmanship achievement, how long had this old man laughed? How pathetic he had found his own foolishness. And how joyful he had felt at the fact that there was once again a path ahead of him.
The Sword Immortal clutched the spot where Min-ga had struck him and rose to his feet. Beyond the bamboo stalks split neatly in half, he could see Min-ga standing with her hands clasped behind her back. If he used Dosul now, if he wielded the sword he had used before, he could still threaten her. No matter how lofty her enlightenment might be, her realm and physical body had not yet caught up to it. If this old man forced the issue, Min-ga would have no choice but to use her remaining full strength. But what would come after that? Defeat. And a far more miserable one than before.
Imagining that scene, the Sword Immortal abandoned even his dignity and let out a snickering laugh.
Peak Realm. She had only just reached the Peak Realm. A martial artist who had once been first-class had merely ascended to the Peak Realm. Yet how could such a vast gap exist? Before this old man, whether they were third-class, second-class, first-class, or Peak Realm, they were all the same lowly novices—so why was she the sole exception? Just where was that fellow standing? What had she seen? Ah… how enviable. Min-ga. If this old man continues walking the path of martial arts, could I one day stand beside you?
After finishing his deep breath, the Sword Immortal gripped his sword once more.
“You’re not using the Falling Sun Swordplay?”
I have decided to look only at the sword.
“…I already know that. Did you think this old man wouldn’t notice the change in you?”
“If you already knew, why ask?”
What is this? Is she saying it would be boring if I don’t use even that? How arrogant. And because that arrogance has solid grounds, it’s extremely irritating.
“Foolish, Sword Immortal. I am asking you this right now. If you have no Dosul, can you not realize the principle of the falling sun?”
…What?
“Was everything on the path you have walked until now a mistake?”
Upon hearing those words, the Sword Immortal felt as if his eyes had snapped open. The reason he had not used the Falling Sun Swordplay until now was because it symbolized his own foolishness. He had believed it was the result of abandoning swordsmanship in pursuit of Dosul, so he had deliberately refrained from using it. He thought that using that sword again would lead him down the wrong path. He had judged all of it as wrong.
But Min-ga spoke differently. The one standing far ahead of him offered a different answer.
“You too are called a master, so you must already know. There is no such thing as a straight path in the way of martial arts.”
That was true. The path a martial artist walks draws its own unique shape. No matter which direction one takes, as long as one reaches the correct answer, that path leads to the answer.
“Does the foundation change simply because one’s realm has risen?”
I see. So that’s how it is. The Falling Sun Swordplay is this old man’s sword, created by mixing swordsmanship and Dosul. Even if the Dosul is removed from it, not everything will disappear. The swordsmanship I have honed and polished still remains in its place.
Having gained enlightenment, the Sword Immortal looked into his own mindscape. There, he saw the path he had walked until now. The path of martial arts was winding, yet it had clearly been moving forward. Not everything the Sword Immortal had done was wrong.
“Tsk. Why do I have to explain every single thing to an old man who’s lived as long as you have?”
Listening to Min-ga’s grumbling, the Sword Immortal adjusted his grip on his sword. He erased the portion that Dosul had occupied within the Falling Sun Swordplay. Only then did he realize it. The part Dosul had taken up was far larger than he had thought. Could he fill all those empty spaces with his own martial arts? A momentary doubt rose, but the Sword Immortal cut it down. What kind of martial artist harbors doubts? Do not ponder. Why think about whether it can be done or not? Just do it. Believe that it can be done. Believe in everything I have built until now. Believe in what is contained within my sword. Believe in what is held in my hand. All I need to do is raise the sword upward.
Now. Let us bring down the sun.
Watching the Sword Immortal’s hand as it gripped the sword, I couldn’t help but smile. Had he gained enlightenment from just a few words of advice? Had he shaken off the doubts that arose while reflecting on the path he had walked? Had he decided to bring down the sun using only his own sword?
“Baru.”
“You want me to step back?”
“Yeah. It’s going to get dangerous.”
Baru didn’t ask any further questions. She moved her staff and cast a spell. I watched the Sword Immortal take a deep breath as I confirmed her spell was in place.
This was the Sword Immortal’s ultimate technique. A killing strike created by a single swordsman to fell the highest sun in the sky. It was not an imitation made with Dosul, but a strike meant to cleave the heavens using pure martial arts. As a martial artist, I should respond to an ultimate technique with an ultimate technique of my own.
I pressed several acupoints. Increasing the body’s capabilities. Stabilizing my unstable physique. And then forcing the acupoints into overload. As my realm had risen, the number and size of my acupoints had increased. Explosive internal energy poured out from them, threatening to shatter my dantian. Even though I was only at the Peak Realm, it was already this intense. I wouldn’t be able to endure it for long. I would try to control it, but lasting for any significant time was impossible. It didn’t matter. There was no need to endure for long anyway.
I scattered the recklessly surging energy around me, then gathered every last bit of it into one place. I condensed and compressed it into a tiny sphere and placed it beneath my feet. Then, carrying that power, I stomped the ground.
BOOOOM!
With the stomp, cracks spread across the earth, the ground shook, stones flew into the air, and bamboo leaves scattered. The power that had been condensed to the size of a grain of sand grew as it traveled up my leg, grew again as it passed through my waist, and grew once more as it traveled through my shoulder and arm. By the time it reached my fist, it carried enough force to shatter the sky.
Defining myself as the sun, I threw a punch meant to shatter the heavens toward the sword descending to cut me down.
Haa. How wonderful. The sight of two wills colliding. The scene of two ultimate techniques, each honed to perfection, clashing against each other. This is why I love fighting skilled martial artists. Battles against beasts with no reason but immense power can boil my blood, but facing something a martial artist has poured their entire life into—that is what truly makes me feel alive.
How long has it been since I last felt this emotion? It’s fun. So very fun. But this moment cannot last forever. That is precisely why it is beautiful.
Between the fiercely clashing sword and fist, the one pushed back first was the sword. The enlightenment the Sword Immortal had gained was certainly great, but it was not yet perfect. That was only natural. He hadn’t had enough time to examine and supplement it. If that sword had reached the level of cleaving the sun with pure talent alone, it would have shattered my fist by now. Fundamentally, my body, realm, and internal energy were still lacking.
But the Sword Immortal had not yet reached that level. In that case, breaking him was not a difficult task.
The Sword Immortal desperately tried to hold onto the retreating sword. He gritted his teeth, attempting to prolong this clash until my limit was reached. But even that had its limits. Backward. Backward. Pushed back once again, the sword eventually lost its center. That was the moment the Sword Immortal’s blade crumbled.
The fist that surpassed the sword seeking to cleave the sun reached the sky. The clouds parted, revealing the clear blue heavens, and the sun sitting at their center shone down upon the bamboo forest. The sun was not cut.