Thirteen Styles of the Dark Moon
Time flew by, and before I knew it, my twelfth birthday was just around the corner.
I had grown accustomed to my life as the Young Sect Leader, a role I had now held for nearly a full year. Yeongho Bin continued to handle all the troublesome matters on his own, ensuring I never had to face any uncomfortable social situations.
Namgung Eon had been assigned to the Myeongsin Palace, one of the Five Demonic Palaces at headquarters, where he was assisting the sect in researching the martial arts of the orthodox Murim.
The Sect Leader still entered closed-door cultivation as easily as one might eat a meal, seemingly plotting a shadow war against the Murim Alliance behind the scenes. Of course, I had no way of knowing his true thoughts in detail.
My stepmother, Jang Su-ryeon, still seemed to view me with wariness, but she had recently given birth to a daughter and was currently too preoccupied with raising the baby to pay me much mind.
As for me...
"The cultivation of my Dark Demonic Inward Heart Method is nearing completion."
Even after my wall-gazing punishment ended, I had continued to cultivate the Mystic Demon Scripture day and night, gradually altering the acupoints of my body.
By this point, my internal energy cultivation had deviated significantly from the original text of the Mystic Demon Scripture. Since it had essentially become my own unique, proprietary martial art, I called it the Dark Demonic Inward Heart Method.
Now, with the exception of the Conception and Governing Vessels, the acupoints along every meridian in my body had been restructured into the optimal form for cultivating this energy.
Alongside my internal cultivation, I relentlessly pursued my swordsmanship training with the assistance of Instructor Do.
"Young Sect Leader."
"Sister."
And above all, one of the biggest changes lay in my older sister, Baek So-cheong.
Baek So-cheong had recently turned twenty. Her pale skin, silky black hair, slender build, and elegant demeanor had grown even more breathtakingly beautiful than before.
Most of all, her gentle smile and warm gaze felt like soft winter sunlight.
Yet, it was a complex expression that also carried a faint trace of sorrow and pity.
Baek So-cheong had looked at me with that exact smile every single time we met, ever since I rescued the girl playing the zither and defied the Sect Leader's orders by sparing Namgung Eon to recruit him into the sect.
"Are you on your way to the training grounds? I heard you are demonstrating your martial arts before Father today. Aren't you nervous?"
Today, as always, she spoke to me with a tender warmth, wearing that smile I couldn't quite decipher.
"Hmm..."
This was one of the very few moments since my reincarnation into the Demonic Cult that truly warmed my heart.
It was only natural.
Everyone else in the Demonic Cult either feared me, kept their distance, or constantly evaluated me.
Only this person, regardless of what I did, showed me the unchanging affection of an older sister.
Or rather, she desperately wished to do so.
"This is... dangerous."
It was a worrying risk factor.
The fact remained that the Sect Leader expected the Young Sect Leader to possess a ruthless disposition.
The Young Sect Leader had to maintain a vicious, cold exterior to everyone, just as he always had.
Therefore...
"Nervous? Do I look like a child to you?"
"Haha. Of course not. You are such a dignified Young Sect Leader, after all..."
"More importantly, what does my business have to do with you, Sister?"
"......."
That was why, whenever Baek So-cheong treated me with kindness, I had no choice but to respond in this cold, ill-mannered way.
Intentionally hardening my expression and letting my voice drop to a freezing temperature.
Yet, Baek So-cheong merely offered me a soft, knowing smile, just as she always did.
"Young Sect Leader, the birds chirping in the rear garden sound so beautiful today. It seems the birds that left last year have finally returned."
"……?"
After adding those cryptic words, she clasped her hands together and bowed her head slightly.
"I simply wanted to cheer you on. Well then, I wish you martial fortune!"
With that, Baek So-cheong turned and walked away, but...
...a lingering warmth still seemed to hover over the spot where she had stood.
"Sigh..."
A sigh escaped my lips without my realizing it.
It would be a lie to say it didn't ache to treat someone who was so genuinely kind to me with such coldness.
But to survive, this was simply what had to be done.
In any case, today was the day of my training session with Instructor Do at the training grounds.
Alongside the Mystic Demon Scripture, I had been practicing the Thirteen Styles of the Dark Moon, one of the foundational martial arts of the Sect Leader's family.
While the Mystic Demon Scripture was the foundational internal cultivation method for the Sun and Moon Sect's ruling family, the Thirteen Styles of the Dark Moon was the basic sword style meant to pair with it.
"Young Sect Leader, are you ready?"
"Do not worry, Instructor Do."
I glanced toward the raised platform overlooking the training grounds, where the Sect Leader stood with a solemn, imposing air.
My martial arts instructor, Do Yul, had not learned the Mystic Demon Scripture, making it impossible for him to truly evaluate the proper synergy and results of the Thirteen Styles of the Dark Moon.
Therefore, the Sect Leader personally stepping forward to inspect the mastery of both the Mystic Demon Scripture and the Thirteen Styles of the Dark Moon was, in essence, an evaluation of whether the Young Sect Leader possessed the qualifications to succeed him.
Naturally, the pressure weighing on me was immense.
Given my extreme introversion, the old me would have been so paralyzed by anxiety that I wouldn't have been able to move a muscle.
However...
"I'm not the same person I used to be. I won't chicken out anymore!"
It had been nearly a year since my reincarnation as the Young Sect Leader of the Demonic Cult.
Not only had I grown accustomed to this life, but both my internal and external strength had developed beyond comparison.
I was no longer the lost, bewildered soul who had just transmigrated into this body.
Up on the platform, the Sect Leader watched me with cold, calculating eyes, ready to judge the progress of my martial arts over the past year.
The Left Guardian, the Right Guardian, the heads of the Five Demonic Palaces, and other notorious grand devils of the cult were also watching me.
Thinking of this as an opportunity to display my newfound strength before the Sect Leader and the high-ranking devils, I naturally braced my core.
"Begin."
Instructor Do stepped back, and the Sect Leader's commanding voice rang out.
Standing alone in the vast training grounds, I drew my wooden sword.
And then...
"Ugh..."
The moment I became conscious of the countless suffocating gazes locked onto me, my limbs began to tremble.
"Grown beyond comparison my foot!"
This godforsaken introversion hadn't changed one bit over time!
My heart hammered wildly against my ribs from the sheer panic. My vision blurred, and a deafening silence enveloped me.
My mind went completely blank. Not a single formula or movement of the Thirteen Styles of the Dark Moon came to mind.
*Swish.*
My limbs moved entirely of their own accord, and the wooden sword wobbled clumsily as it dragged along with my awkward motions.
I was supposed to strike down with power, slash upward, and execute crisp horizontal cuts...
...but with absolutely no strength in my arms, legs, or hands, the wooden sword merely flailed limply through the empty air.
My sword path was completely erratic.
Where I was supposed to strike downward and follow up with two consecutive horizontal slashes, I instead drew a single, clumsy diagonal line.
Where I was supposed to deliver a short, sharp thrust, I threw my entire body weight into a deep lunge, causing my stance to wobble precariously.
The moment I realized everything had gone horribly wrong, my eyes instinctively drifted toward the Sect Leader.
"……."
I caught a glimpse of the Sect Leader looking down at me with crossed arms, his expression incredibly grave.
Seeing his gaze filled with deep suspicion made my head spin.
The people standing beside him were even worse.
The Left and Right Guardians stood with their jaws slack in utter shock, while the other grand devils beside them exchanged bewildered glances, whispering among themselves.
"I'm ruined... This is really the end."
This was a formal demonstration to show my progress to the Sect Leader.
On top of that, the second Grand Assembly of Demons was just around the corner.
Before that, another evaluation of the Young Sect Leader's qualifications would take place.
And yet, right before all of this, I had disappointed the Sect Leader with such a disastrous display of swordsmanship...
For all I knew, he might order me to pack my bags and get out tonight.
*Whoosh.*
As despair set in, my vision darkened further, and my mind grew emptier.
I no longer knew where I was, nor could I comprehend what I was seeing.
The blue should have been the sky and the brown should have been the ground, but for some time now, the blue and brown had been spinning and swapping places in a blur.
I couldn't tell up from down, nor did I have any idea what stance I was taking as I swung the sword.
All I could perceive was the occasional *whoosh* of the wooden sword dancing through the air before my eyes.
I lost all track of time.
It felt as though I had only just begun this sorrowful sword dance a moment ago, yet at the same time, it felt as if I had been spinning in place for an eternity.
Normally, swinging a sword this much would have left me drenched in sweat, my arms completely drained of strength, and my hands aching from gripping the hilt.
But right now, I felt none of that.
Unlike during my practice sessions, my body felt as light as if I were floating on a cloud. Perhaps because I wasn't forcing any strength into my arms, they didn't ache at all; instead, my grip felt so weightless that it was as if my hands were entirely empty.
I even paused for a split second just to make sure I was actually still holding the sword.
My breathing wasn't shallow or labored in the slightest, and my footsteps as I glided across the ground felt incredibly nimble.
Before I knew it, the Thirteen Styles of the Dark Moon was drawing to its final form.
Not that I remembered a single thing I had done in the middle of it; I was simply flowing naturally into the preparatory stance for the final strike.
Bending my upper body, I shifted my weight onto my left leg, letting the wooden sword hang naturally in a low-guard stance.
*Whoosh!*
Pivoting my body in a sudden, reverse spin, I thrust the lightly held wooden sword out to the right.
*Swoosh!*
In that singular moment, the satisfying sound of the wooden sword slicing through the air echoed clearly in my ears.
It was the sound that signaled the completion of all thirteen styles.
It was also the sound reminding me that only a brutal scolding from the Sect Leader awaited me now.
*Tap.*
Holding the sword in my right hand, I clasped my hands and bowed to the Sect Leader.
Just because a crowd was watching, I had let my nerves get the absolute best of me and performed a completely nonsensical sword dance.
I couldn't bring myself to look up, bracing for the Sect Leader's thunderous roar to strike me down at any second.
Yet, for a long while, nothing but silence met my ears.
It seemed that everyone, from the Sect Leader to the grand devils of the headquarters, was utterly speechless, not knowing how to react.
Then, the sound of footsteps descending from the platform reached me.
It seemed the Sect Leader was walking toward me alone.
Throughout his long walk across the grounds, he did not utter a single word.
He was undoubtedly so furious and disappointed that he was temporarily lost for words.
"Ah... This is the end."
Looking back on the past year, it felt like I had been living in a long, unbroken dream.
If I had known it would end like this...
...I should have given her a warmer reply back then.
Just as I was resigning myself to my fate.
"Young Sect Leader."
"Yes, Father."
The Sect Leader's voice sounded less disappointed and more... profoundly astonished.
"Your performance seemed quite different from the standard forms of the Thirteen Styles of the Dark Moon."
"Ah... Yes, it was."
Yes, indeed. I was so incredibly nervous that my mind went completely blank.
"It has been exactly one year since you began training with the sword, has it not?"
"That is correct, Father."
Even I find it hard to believe that this is all I have to show after a year of training.
"Just now, you seemed to have completely forgotten the forms... No, it was as if you had forgotten even yourself. You likely cannot even recall the sword style you just displayed. Am I correct?"
"Yes... that is correct."
My mind was completely white from panic, of course I don't remember it.
Anticipating the harsh reprimand that was sure to follow, I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look him in the face.
But then...
"Astonishing. I never imagined you would reach such a height so soon."
The Sect Leader's words were veering in a direction I had never, in my wildest dreams, anticipated.
"To think you have already attained the state of No-Self at your age."
The moment those words left the Sect Leader's mouth, a wave of excited murmurs erupted from the crowd on the platform.
"So that was it! I felt it from the very beginning."
"The instant the Young Sect Leader unleashed his first strike, I knew something was different."
"I felt a shiver run down my spine during that final thirteenth style."
"As did I."
What on earth are these people talking about?
While I stood there utterly bewildered, the Sect Leader continued.
"In swordsmanship, forms are merely reference points. Stripping away all superfluous movements to leave only the core essence of the sword, relaxing all unnecessary tension to let the blade flow naturally... No, that state of appearing to have lost even your own self... It is easy to say, but it is a realm that even swordsmen who dedicate their entire lives to the blade struggle to reach."
The Sect Leader's tone and expression were filled with deep admiration, mirroring the reactions of the onlookers.
"How did you achieve this?"
"...I simply immersed myself entirely in the sword in my hand and my own inner self."
"Indeed..."
I had merely given him a vague, half-hearted answer, but if there was one thing that truly set me apart from others, it was only one thing.
I'll have to ask Myeongjon later if this 'state of No-Self' has anything to do with my extreme introversion.
As I pondered this, the Sect Leader spoke once more.
"Young Sect Leader, remember the feeling of this sword. Ensure that when you stand before our enemies as the Sect Leader of the Sun and Moon Sect, you can draw upon this very blade."
"Yes, Father."