The Qi Arts Master Chapter 3
Huff. Huff. In the deep forest of Paektu Mountain, the ragged breaths of a young pair of siblings scattered precariously on the wind.
"Soyeon, just a little more. Hang in there—we'll be out of Paektu soon."
"Haa... Got it, oppa. But when we get home, you're in for it!"
Ni Daegyeok watched his surroundings warily as he supported his younger sister, Dam Soyeon. They were in dire straits, hounded by unexpected pursuers.
The two hailed from Damga, a prestigious clan of Shandong's scholarly elite. Since the Song Dynasty, they had produced prime ministers and countless officials, wielding influence even the imperial court couldn't ignore. When the Mongols founded the Yuan Dynasty, they unusually urged Damga to enter government service, but the family—proud of their Han Chinese heritage—had steadfastly refused.
Time passed, until Emperor Yesün Temür died at sixty, sparking the Princes' Rebellion as his sons vied for the throne. Among them, Prince Toghon Temür, who held the strongest position, demanded Damga's private troops to solidify his power. The clan had long produced high ministers and maintained a formidable force of well-trained soldiers. But Damga stalled with excuses, refusing to cooperate.
Toghon Temür resorted to threats, but preoccupation with rival princes kept him from pressing too hard. Then intelligence arrived: the Damga siblings were traveling to Paektu Mountain without their usual escorts, for reasons unknown. Seizing the opportunity, the prince dispatched men to kidnap them—leveraging the abduction to bend Damga to his will.
That was why the siblings faced a sudden assault by assassins in Paektu. Ni Daegyeok had improvised a phantom escape formation to flee, drawing on techniques from the Jegal clan with whom Damga had long exchanged knowledge. Like Damga, the Jegals were based in Shandong, claiming descent from Zhuge Liang and excelling in scholarship and formations. Their shared regional ties and intellectual pursuits had fostered enduring relations.
"Just over that ridge..."
Hope surged in Ni Daegyeok—salvation lay just beyond, outside Paektu. But hope turned to despair.
"You've come far. Well done."
A masked man, eyes alone visible, rolled a flying dagger between his fingers as he eyed the Damga siblings.
"Oppa... He seems alone. Let's shake him and run."
Despite Dam Soyeon's words, cold sweat trickled down Ni Daegyeok's back. He had naturally cultivated internal arts and martial skills while mastering formations, which often required infusing them with qi. He stood on the cusp of the peak realm, yet before this masked foe, he felt like a mouse paralyzed before a cat—unable even to move.
"Soyeon... I don't think it'll be that easy."
"Huh? That bad?"
"Haa... I'm no supreme master, you know. This is bad."
Dam Soyeon had heard the family warriors praise Ni Daegyeok's achievements and witnessed his ingenuity shake off the assassins moments ago. She trusted him deeply. Seeing her unflappable oppa so tense for the first time, she grasped the gravity instantly.
"I am Salma. Heard of me?"
"Salma...!"
Ni Daegyeok's mind raced through the Martial World Who's Who. As a family entrenched in politics, they valued intelligence, meticulously collecting data on key figures whenever opportunity arose. Among them was Salma, leader of the Salma Brigade—a top-ranked demonic cult expert.
"Ho~ I figured a scholar like you would underestimate me, but you know my name. Lucky you—I won't kill you. Still, you made me trek all this way. Punishment's due."
Salma leered up and down at Dam Soyeon with a lascivious grin.
"Y-You...!"
Blushing with humiliation, Dam Soyeon clutched her collar and backed away. Just then, Salma's brigade emerged from Ni Daegyeok's formation, encircling them.
"Forgive the trouble, milord."
The brigade bowed in unison to Salma.
"Tsk tsk. Consider yourselves dead when we return to the cult."
A chill ran through the men as they bowed deeper. Salma was a man of his word, capricious and deadly even over trifles—they knew it well.
"Now then... what to do?"
Salma hummed as he approached Dam Soyeon. Ni Daegyeok stepped in front, sword raised.
"Heh heh. Cute."
Salma toyed with his dagger, sauntering toward Ni Daegyeok leisurely. Then—
"Um..."
A sudden voice made Salma and everyone jolt, eyes snapping to its source. There stood a handsome young man with short black hair.
No one had sensed his arrival. Bewilderment and wariness rippled through the group.
"Could you point me to the way out? How do I leave these mountains?"
The youth's calm question hung in stunned silence. Then Salma bellowed at his men.
"You idiots! What were you doing, letting someone sneak up?!"
Startled, the brigade tightened their encirclement.
"Who are you?!"
Salma unleashed killing intent, wary of the man who had slipped past his eyes—even amid his lustful distraction. But the youth seemed unaffected, responding coolly.
"Sheesh, I just asked for directions. What's with the death glare? And that creepy aura?"
The bob-haired youth, Tian Ailang, frowned at Salma.
* * *
Emerging from the formation where he'd lived his life, Tian Ailang first sought traces of his qi master's abode. But everything was gone—nothing remained.
"Well, twenty years is enough for mountains to change twice."
He shook off his disappointment with a stretch.
"Ahh, nice weather."
Beyond the formation lay a bright autumn day. Tian Ailang scanned his surroundings.
"Where to now?"
He shrugged.
"I'll figure it out walking slowly."
Savoring his first taste of the world outside, he strolled leisurely. The trees, foliage scents, and breeze felt familiar yet different from within the formation.
"Hm?"
After a while, an unnatural energy disrupted nature's flow. Curiosity piqued, Tian Ailang dashed toward it.
There, an intriguing formation made of curse stones. Unable to resist, he shifted the stones, dismantling it. From within poured mysterious warriors, fleeing in haste.
"What the...?"
Tian Ailang stared, baffled.
'People I've never seen, aside from Grandpa.'
His mood lifted.
'Meeting folks this quick.'
Chasing them seemed the way to descend to the Central Plains. He followed swiftly.
'Jackpot!'
The warriors led to a crowd—perfect for directions. His heart raced at seeing so many people for the first time. Approaching the eldest-looking one before the chance slipped:
"Could you point me to the way out? How do I leave these mountains?"
The sudden silence flustered him. Why the shouting? And that foul aura?
"Sheesh, I just asked for directions. What's with the death glare? And that creepy aura?"
Grumbling, he sensed a dark, heavy energy intensifying. His expression hardened. Unfamiliar, yet repulsive. Puzzled, his grandpa's teachings surfaced.
'Right—martial world is full of grudges. Don't meddle.'
He nodded.
'I was clueless. Barging into their grudge explains the hostility.'
Surveying, he spotted a young man and woman who looked friendlier. Approaching with a bright smile:
"Do you know the way? I want to get out of here. Oh, and don't worry—I won't interfere in your grudge."
Dam Soyeon stared blankly at Tian Ailang's cheerful demeanor amid life-or-death tension. Ni Daegyeok, however, sensed their lifeline. The youth had evaded even Salma's—likely peak extreme—gaze, proving masterful lightness skill. And he'd shrugged off what seemed like demonic qi and killing intent, suggesting he could at least match Salma. Youthful looks lowered odds of victory, but he was their best shot to turn the tide—perhaps buy time to chain formations and escape.
"I know the way well. And that 'grudge'? My sister and I are just victims of these demonic cultists' one-sided attack."
Tian Ailang, basking in his first normal conversation beyond Grandpa, froze.
"...What did you say?"
Ni Daegyeok replayed his words, chilled by the youth's icy shift.
"Demonic cult, you said?"
He felt the faint tremor and rage in Tian Ailang's voice. Desperate to grasp this lifeline, Ni Daegyeok nodded vigorously.
"Yes. That man's Salma, a demonic cult executive. If you could help, I'd reward you generously. If not, save yourself—but please, at least my sister."
Ni Daegyeok bowed deeply, pleading. Tian Ailang finally studied him closely. Fearless about his own death, yet his churning internal energy brimmed with selfless worry for his sister. That familial devotion stirred longing for Grandpa.
"Demonic cult... Demonic cult... Stay put."
Tian Ailang turned from the siblings toward Salma.
"You're a demonic cult executive?"
"Hah!"
Salma found the youth's insolence absurd. Irked at being blocked, killing urge surged—he itched to hurl his dagger. Caution about the unknown stayed his hand.
"That's right. And who the hell are you?"
"Confirmed demonic cult? Those underlings too?"
Salma's patience frayed. He ground his teeth.
"...Yes. Your turn—who are you?"
Tian Ailang beamed.
His sudden smile drew incredulous stares from all, Salma included.
"Ahh, Grandpa! Is this a gift? Fate?"
Gazing skyward with laughter, he sobered abruptly, fingers splayed.
Pip-pip-pew—!
Condensed qi projectiles shot from his fingers toward the brigade. Drawing and firing in one fluid motion—so swift and natural—they couldn't react.
"Kahk!"
Five or six brigade members died instantly, brows pierced. Distant ones deflected with daggers but reeled from the recoil.
"Insolent brat!"
More enraged by the youth's dismissive attitude before him than his men's deaths, Salma hurled his dagger. Simultaneously, another lunged sword at Tian Ailang's heart.
Tian Ailang swatted it away like a fly. Salma faltered as his attack dissolved effortlessly, then loosed dozens of venomous needles—not Dangga's Ten Thousand Flowers Rain on the Heaven, but formidable nonetheless.
Yet rising earth from Tian Ailang's footwork blocked them easily.
"He's a master! Form the Chariot Wheel Killing Demon Sword Formation! Focus only on him!"
At Salma's cry, the brigade abandoned the siblings, converging solely on Tian Ailang.