Chapter 66
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: The Heart-Crushing Palm
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Bupyeong and the numerous warriors had fortunately escaped. Their foes seemed to pay them no mind.
As if they could crush them whenever they pleased.
So, you're from the Namgung.
How did they know?
As I wondered, the man before me twisted his lips into a sneer.
I haven't forgotten, not even once. Not since that day. This energy is all too familiar. Namgung, you say. Namgung...
They were the Daoists. The same mad Daoists I had heard about.
Yeogon, and his junior, Sangtak, they called themselves.
The moment I faced the mad Daoist, I instinctively drew up energy from my dantian as if having a seizure. They stared back at my uncle and me with strange eyes. Their gaze was sinister, nothing like a Daoist's. And just as Han Taemun had described, their arms were dark and discolored, no longer looking human.
Is it a coincidence? That men of Namgung stand before me.
His tone was also far from a Daoist's, and the creeping energy emanating from him was not that of the Daoist Mount Qingcheng Sect. Seeing this, I clicked my tongue. I had to put on a brave face. Otherwise, I felt those dark, discolored arms would seize my heart at any moment.
The Hwangbo Family, and now you lot. The reputation of the Orthodox Faction has truly become an empty shell.
Was it Hwangbo Gyeom of the Thunderbolt Fist who said that?
That debating the righteous and unorthodox paths was meaningless.
That only the strong, the survival of the fittest, was the logic of this world.
I still couldn't accept it, yet even these Daoists before me seemed to agree with that sentiment.
Moreover, these bastards
They were the ones who tried to harm Namgung Yeoul, my master.
And it happened when my master was making a name for himself as a swordsman, a righteous hero of the Namgung.
So, I opened my mouth and spoke.
Do you intend to claim a fair victory after stabbing someone in the back?
Hoh. You know him?
Of course. He is my master.
At my words, the relaxed expression of one of the mad Daoiststhe one who had clearly backstabbed my mastercracked for the first time. It was a fissure like a hairline crack on porcelain, but he quickly shrugged and spoke.
I see, I see. So you're his disciple.
His once-bored gaze gradually intensified.
The more you scream, the more he will suffer. No, perhaps I can make him come find me in the North Sea. Ah, and did you ask if I won fairly, boy? Let me tell you. The strong do not win; the winner is strong.
Judging by his chuckling expression, he seemed to be saying that the world of combat is cold.
But his eyes were like those of a wild dog, and his tongue like the maw of a snake.
Only then could I retort.
So, did you win?
At my words, the man called Yeogon scowled. I twisted my lips into a smirk. At the same time, without a clear instigator, shadows tangled in the air and clashed.
My uncle and I became entangled with the two Daoists. The one before me was not Yeogon but the other Daoist. It seemed they had decided to split up and face us individually the moment they attacked.
Kagagagak.
His bluish-black arms clashed with my sword without hesitation. A shimmering blue energy gathered at the tip of my sword, and I brought it down upon the Daoist named Sangtak.
Kugggggk.
It was a horrifying sound. They were surely arms made of flesh and skin, yet they met the tip of my sword without a single scratch. I understood now why they were so determined to come to the North Sea to obtain something.
He crossed his arms to block my sword, then twisted his fingers into a grotesque shape, unleashing a burst of energy that seemed to constrict my heart. The moment I smelled the foul stench from the gurgling energy coiling around his arms, I furrowed my brow.
...A foul stench.
It's an ecstatic aroma.
Calling a stench ecstatic... I see the latrine would be a fitting place for you.
At the same time, an extreme yin energy froze the very air. With every swing of his arms, the toxic scent and chilling cold made it difficult to even breathe, let alone unleash a proper sword strike. I gritted my teeth, forced to circulate my Heavenly Thunder Energy against this unfamiliar yin energy, while simultaneously blasting out the lightning energy of the Heavenly Thunder Imperial Divine Art to counter the encroaching poison. It wasn't the sheer level of his martial art that was the problem; it was the unique nature of this demonic art that forbade me from getting close.
Pajijijik!
A peculiar energy. Lightning energy, of all things.
What would you lot know, hiding here in the North Sea after fleeing the Central Plains?
At my words, the face of Sangtak, his junior, crumpled like paper. He couldn't have been pleased with someone so much younger than him running his mouth at every turn. But what could he do?
This is who I am.
I will burst your heart with the Heart-Crushing Palm right now and quench my thirst with the warm blood from your heart.
Hoo, hoo. Hahaha.
Hearing this, I panted but still managed a smile at his reaction. However, the situation was far from good.
You brat. Don't overdo it.
We had already exchanged dozens of blows. I fought him with sword energy and sword winds, avoiding direct contact. The closer I got, the harder it was to breathe, and my vision would spin. It was a new experience for me.
At the same time, the internal energy in my dantian began to run wild, and a portion of it was already slipping from my control.
Dammit.
So this is why they call it a demonic art.
The more you struggle, the more the poison of the Heart-Crushing Palm will consume you. Don't fight it. You are dying. Helplessly.
I had never encountered a martial art like this. Despite having some knowledge of poisons, I had never, in either my past or present life, experienced inhaling toxic fumes during a fierce battle. Seeing my state, he fiercely thrust out his Heart-Crushing Palm, and I, in turn, continued to call down lightning.
At the same time, I opened my senses to observe the confrontation happening beside me.
Kaang! Kakakang!
An Baek was also keeping his distance, unleashing sword winds and sword energy against the Daoist named Yeogon. The man's hands were incomparably darker than the one I faced, making one wonder if they could even be called human arms. At a glance, the energy shimmering around him like a heat haze looked extremely dangerous.
Indeed.
I could see why First Elder Namgung Yeoul had struggled so much against the demonic art known as the Heart-Crushing Palm.
The closer one got.
The more one faced it.
Countless toxic fumes permeated the air, becoming indistinguishable from it.
The air concealed its nature as if nothing had happened, but An Baek could still feel it.
He felt the formless, toxic fumes encroaching, slowly swallowing this space like a swamp.
Haaat!
On top of that, each time he swiped at the air with his five fingers while deflecting the sword energy and winds with his arms.
Hwaaaaaa!
With a sound that tore through the air, five crimson-black waves surged toward An Baek. They were a combination of poison, cold yin energy, and an aura so vile it truly deserved the name of a demonic art. Seeing this, An Baek's expression hardened as his sword repeatedly sliced through the air.
Seogeogeogeok!
The surrounding iron bars were helplessly severed, fluttering in the air, unable to withstand the aftershock. Weaving through the undulating waves, my uncle launched himself into the air and swung his sword horizontally.
Life-Reaping Sword Art, First Form, Traceless Strike.
As if to prove his title of Iron-Blood Sword King was not for show, the energy drawn in an instant was unleashed from the sword's tip, not towards Yeogon, but towards the ceiling.
The ice prison, a separate space from where Han Taemun was confined. The sword energy shot towards a spot where stalactitesno, icicleshung in clusters, instantly slicing them off and sending them showering down on Yeogon's position.
Hmph! Such petty tricks!
The moment he casually brushed them aside as if dusting off his sleeve.
Life-Reaping Sword Art, Second Form, New Moon.
A crescent of sword qi swept before Yeogon's eyes like a raging wave. Yeogon's eyes widened, and the moment he instinctively retreated.
Kwadeudeudeudeuk!
...Gyaaaaaah!
A gruesome sound echoed, followed immediately by a scream. It was clearly the scream of someone helplessly torn apart by the New Moon's sword qi.
An Baek felt relieved. Even he found these toxic fumes unfamiliar. How could a martial art of the righteous path contain such a vicious poison? Not even facing someone from the Tang Family was this severe.
But in any case, it was a relief.
How naive.
If not for the words that followed.
Paat!
With the sound of kicking off the ground, a tattered corpse fell to the floor, and a single shadow moved to target Namgung Ban on the other side. And that shadow was.
...Dammit!
It was Yeogon. An Baek shuddered with rage. He had pulled his own junior brother in front of him to block the crescent sword qi.
How.
His junior brother, who followed him and trusted him without a doubt.
How could he shove him to his death the moment he was in danger?
Beyond the Orthodox Faction, beyond the righteous path.
Beyond the station of a Daoist.
This was a demon in human skin.
And as the shadow's hand closed in on Namgung Ban's right chest, it erupted with all its remaining latent power.
A strange calm washed over me.
I had clearly opened my senses and was reading the flow of the battle. At the same time, my standoff with the Daoist named Sangtak wasn't going too badly.
But that was my delusion.
An internal art, the act of building internal energy, is essentially the act of breathing.
My breathing had become labored. Nevertheless, I had been facing Sangtak, believing I was adapting well to the poison.
But breathing in the damp air hindered not just the respiration through my nose and mouth, but also through the pores all over my body.
So my movements grew sluggish, my mind became dazed, and because the poison was disrupting my dantian, a sense of exhaustion and helplessness washed over me.
Was that how it was?
In that moment, Sangtak's body, the one I was facing, was torn apart by the crescent sword qi, and the other man lunged at me.
And that vicious demonic art, the Heart-Crushing Palm, struck me near my heart.
Dammit.
My body shot up into the air. At the same time, spraying blood from my nose and mouth, I was sent flying backward.
Kudangtangtang!
In my fading vision, the man saw my uncle chasing after him and hastily used the momentum to escape the ice prison, while my uncle shouted something at me.
...on't!
What's he saying? For heaven's sake.
...don't lose...!
As my vision turned hazy like a fog, there was no way I could hear my uncle's words clearly.
Don't lose consciousness!
And in that moment.
Thump, thump.
A familiar energy began to stir in my dantian.
It was the energy of the Heavenly Thunder Pill that Namgung Yeoul, my master, had given me at the cost of his own lifea desperate energy that had become one with the Heavenly Thunder Imperial Divine Art.
The energy of the Heavenly Thunder Pill, which had been scattered throughout my body's energy channels.
Began to slowly awaken in response to its master's peril.