A Second-Rate Warrior Faces the Legend (2)

His ability to remember everything even influenced his dreams. The vivid memories from his past transmitted clearly even in sleep made him aware that he was dreaming, and on such days, his mood was rotten all day long.

But this time, he couldn't blame his perfect memory for it. Thanks to it, he snapped to awareness the moment he realized in the dream that he had been sucked into the Muryangbulgolmokhonjin.

"……Damn it."

A thick fog shrouded his vision in every direction.

-S-save me!

-Someone, help!

-Is anyone there?!

In this space where the boundaries of time and space had vanished, anguished screams echoed in his ears, impossible to tell if they were near or far. They were probably the cries of those who had foolishly entered the formation hoping to find a path.

Among the various voices, none seemed to be grouping together.

Hundreds had entered the formation, yet they were all scattered far apart from one another.

"Two million paths in the formation, designed to completely isolate everyone from each other?"

This was why the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Mosanpa's diviners, despite grasping the formation's structure, had absolutely refused to enter.

He tried to heighten his inner sight, but his dantian was empty.

"Did I lose focus? I forgot I'd unleashed the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm."

It had happened so suddenly that even his absolute memory hadn't kicked in.

"What a creepy bastard."

Considering he'd overcome the Crushing Strike quickly even in his previous life, it made sense, but leaking the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm was something he could scarcely believe even seeing it with his own eyes.

"And to shove me into the Muryangbulgolmokhonjin like that… he was a sinister prick even as a kid."

In that brief moment, realizing the destructive power of the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm, he'd deemed Jin Sowoon a threat to his plans and tossed him into the formation.

Though an enemy, Sowoon had to admit the guy's head turned with frightening sharpness.

He chose any means for his ends, possessed the force and power to push them through, and wasn't hung up on minor sacrifices while pursuing the greater cause.

Perhaps that's what drew people to follow him so fiercely.

"Come to think of it, maybe he's more dangerous than the Demonic Cult."

Until now, his goal had simply been to protect Tae-eul Gate under the Murim Alliance's umbrella.

But if those steering the Alliance ultimately shoved them into hell, that meant nothing.

'Maybe I have to fight Yong So-a.'

No, there will definitely come a moment when I must.

Just thinking about being thrown into this Muryangbulgolmokhonjin made him want to tear the bastard limb from limb.

But how was he, armed only with the Socheon Sword Technique, supposed to face a monster who could leak the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm?

The rage that had blazed like wildfire suddenly died down.

"My life's just like this Muryangbulgolmokhonjin—no path in sight."

Anyway, the priority was escaping the Muryangbulgolmokhonjin.

If he couldn't get out, even a decade's worth of inner energy would be meaningless, and he'd lose his shot at revenge on Yong So-a.

He sat cross-legged right there and began circulating his energy. Soon, he felt his inner energy slowly refilling.

But in that short time with his eyes closed, the formation had shifted to an entirely different landscape.

The fog had vanished everywhere, replaced by pitch-black darkness blocking all sides.

The screams of people were gone too.

Out of two million paths, he'd memorized 1.8 million.

A bit more, and he could have grasped the overall pattern, but entering unprepared meant he had to figure out the remaining 300,000 himself.

Worse, he couldn't even pinpoint his starting path.

To map the paths, he'd need to calculate the formation or open his upper dantian.

He could do neither in his current state.

"Something else I can't tell the juniors about."

Unable to devise calculations on the spot, he had only one option.

He sat again, crossed his legs, and began energy refinement.

As the Lesser Heavenly Circuit circulated, the dormant energies from the spirit medicines in his body began awakening one by one.

The vigorous qi burning away impurities in his channels, stimulating his acupoints, shifted from the Middle Pole to the Directing Vessel, past the Divine Thoroughfare, probing where to go next.

And he directed it toward the Hundred Convergences.

Suddenly, words from his first inner cultivation lesson echoed.

-Jin Sowoon, never try to open your upper dantian. Never.

Even ordinary martial artists avoided touching it unless absolutely necessary.

Much less inside the Muryangbulgolmokhonjin—it was madness by any measure.

Even the Demonic Cult lunatics would shake their heads at him.

'Still, I have to do it.'

Thanks to the Pure Heart Pill, he could fend off qi deviation once. A feasible act of insanity.

The qi, hovering warily, began moving again.

Is this right? Really going in here?

He willed it upward in one surge.

Boom.

A massive shock resounded in his head, thunder crashing through his mind.

Boom.

As his nerves burned like fire, his body trembled numbly amid waves of mind-shattering pain.

Cough.

The impact rattled his acupoints, churning his insides; blood trickled from his mouth.

Boom.

Pain and suffocation stabbed every pore like needles, then a strange sensation—agony or ecstasy?—bloomed in his head.

Shwaaaaa.

A sound like valley stream water filled his mind, the enveloping pain vanishing into cool clarity.

The refreshing sensation surged through him, piercing blocked channels.

It sucked in the remaining spirit medicine energies, amplifying its power.

'Stop, stop.'

The bliss was real, but fear gripped him as the qi swelled beyond his control.

The force overwhelming him now dwarfed breaching the Hundred Convergences, ignoring his will to roam wildly, widening paths until halting at some point.

'No way.'

His inner energy, displeased with the blocked middle dantian, rubbed against his head, trying to force a path.

Hurk.

Forcing the blockage twisted his organs, blood pouring ceaselessly.

This would lead to qi deviation.

'I've already opened the upper anyway, and I have the Pure Heart Pill… do or die.'

Boom.

Aligning his will with the flow, it joyfully battered the middle dantian.

Boom.

A colossal shock rocked his body, finally breaching the middle; qi flowed freely everywhere.

Only after it settled in his dantian could he open his eyes.

"Hoo…."

His dantian held roughly a century's worth of inner energy. Upper and middle dantians open, flow unobstructed.

He'd reached the Five Dragons Worshipping Sage realm in an instant.

His vision sharpened, senses objectifying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his surroundings.

In simple terms, he'd attained the level where experts snatch unseen attacks from blind spots.

"Heaven's luck aided me."

Without the Pure Heart Pill, he wouldn't have dared this perilous gamble.

Thanks to it, he'd absorbed all lingering spirit medicine qi up to the middle dantian.

With senses awakened, he felt the formation's flow.

Paths shifting through Eight Trigrams, Twelve Branches, Sixty Cycles, 360 variations.

Comparing the flow to his memorized paths, he pinpointed his position and direction.

The surrounding mist had turned red again.

And he was certain.

"I can get out."

He stepped toward one direction.

The thick red fog parted instantly, revealing a path—proof he'd chosen correctly.

Another step. Red mist turned yellow—another path entered.

Another. Fog receded, opening the way.

Then, darkness.

This was a path the Mosanpa diviners hadn't calculated.

Yet he couldn't detour or retreat like in the cave; paths looped, ending in the same barriers.

"I have to fill in the unmemorized paths."

Sending qi to his upper dantian, he began inscribing the Muryangbulgolmokhonjin paths across an entire mental library wall.

Filling the endless height revealed a spot at the lower left for 300,000 paths.

Impossible by calculation alone.

Inferring common patterns from known ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠paths, he memorized new ones.

Utter madness, yet an inexplicable certainty drove him on.

Thanks to the upper dantian, patterns filled gaps: one path birthed another, two became four.

His overtaxed mind strained; thin nasal membranes overflowed with blood.

Enough to fill a small vial.

"Done."

With 2,100,400 paths complete, the darkness ahead held no terror.

Snap.

The world brightened, radiant light bursting forth.

One more step, fog lifting.

With each stride, mist thinned; corpses appeared around him.

The moment he sensed the Muryangbulgolmokhonjin's end—

A vast white wall rose endlessly before him.

He stepped onto a section.

Whoosh.

The white wall parted, plunging him back into the dim cave.

"Hah, hah."

Ahead, icicles like stalactites glowed blue, illuminating the cave.

"Mita Seongsu…."

Tension released; he collapsed unconscious.

#

When he awoke, fatigue gone, his body felt light.

His dantian held half its capacity—without deliberate refinement, opening upper and middle dantians had accelerated natural accumulation.

"Anyone seeing this would think I'd survived a blood tribulation."

His blue uniform was stained with vomited blood and nosebleeds, soaked through.

"No one's around anyway."

The cave was empty.

Hundreds had entered the Muryangbulgolmokhonjin voluntarily, but he alone reached here.

"Haha, so it was real."

The Mita Seongsu scramble was controversial not just for the 5,000 sacrifices, but because it was never found.

Some even claimed Haomen spread false info to stir chaos.

"But here it is, plain as day."

The long pendant from the ceiling emanated its own light.

He quickly drew an awl from his bosom, positioned a custom canteen, and tapped the Mita Seongsu.

Crack.

It snapped off into the canteen; the awl froze solid—he tossed it away.

The Mita Seongsu's yin energy was so potent his palm gripping the awl was already iced over.

Circulating qi thawed it slowly, water dripping.

A bizarre sight rare even in the mortal world.

"And the place sealing the Tae-eul Sword Emperor must be here too."

His original goal: traces of the Tae-eul Sword Emperor.

Events since entering the cave fueled his suspicions.

"An unbreakable, eternal Muryangbulgolmokhonjin spanning thirty layers."

What on earth had they sealed to deploy such an absolute formation?

The Muryangbulgolmokhonjin wasn't meant to be broken by raw power.

Even isolating a demon from the world meant the target's influence was immense.

The Tae-eul Sword Emperor legend was true, sealed by the absolute Muryangbulgolmokhonjin.

"It has to be here. Traces of my Grand Ancestor."

He stepped toward the opposite Muryangbulgolmokhonjin entrance.

Now familiar as his neighborhood alley, the fog and darkness held no fear.

Each step pushed mist away.

Parted fog guided him to the white wall again.

Squeezing through a section revealed a pitch-black cavern.

Closing his eyes, he circulated qi to sharpen inner sight: two figures sat at opposite ends of a ten-zhang space.

One: an elder with white hair.

The other: a middle-aged man with black hair and a chin beard.

Drawn by an inexplicable pull, he approached the elder.

Centered on the elder, dense script covered the floor.

At the top, deepest carved: eight characters.

A punch to the gut; bitterness welled up.

Five hundred years of Tae-eul Gate's ancestors' humiliations, the sorrow infused within.

His legs buckled; he knelt, prostrating without wiping tears, sobbing.

"Tae-eul Gate's 18th-generation disciple Jin Sowoon pays respects to Grand Ancestor!"