Chapter 76
Having scattered thunder qi generously from the sky to draw all eyes, Tian Ailang immediately bellowed with a Lion's Roar, pouring every ounce of his internal energy into it this time. As his body began to fall, he kicked off the air with a technique akin to the Cloud Dragon Great Eight Forms, buying himself precious moments.
"A vicious poison mist is spreading from the Dangga! If you lack poison resistance or can't deploy protective qi, this toxin will melt your body—evacuate immediately! There's no time!"
Finishing his shout, Tian Ailang kicked off the air a few more times before landing on the ground. The passersby around him shrank back in a mix of curiosity and fear, gazing at his immortal-like feat.
Once on solid earth, Tian Ailang scanned his surroundings and frowned. He could sense some fleeing, claiming the Thunder God had descended, but most of the crowd was still milling about in confusion, making no move to escape.
"Tch."
As expected, thought Tian Ailang. He called out to the Dangga's young lord standing nearby.
The young lord, Dang Sangho, had been gaping in awe at Tian Ailang's prowess. He jumped at the summons and approached hesitantly.
"Is there anyone here who doesn't know your face?"
At Tian Ailang's question, Dang Sangho shook his head vigorously, his voice squeaking. Back in the clan, he'd roamed outside often with Dang Jeongah to escape the terror of his father—the clan head Dang Cheongeum—and his elite guards, the Dangga Twelve.
"N-no, there shouldn't be."
Tian Ailang nodded at the reply. "Then right now, shout just like I did from the sky and get these people to evacuate."
"Y-yes?"
Tian Ailang scowled. "No time—hurry and clear them out. If civilians drop dead from the Dangga's poison, your clan won't escape the blame. You're the young lord; you get that, right? And those beggars over there are watching closely—no wriggling out of it. Got it?!"
Dang Sangho followed Tian Ailang's gaze to the Beggar Clan members and snapped to attention, nodding vigorously. He immediately started yelling, urging the crowd to flee.
"It's the Dangga's young lord!"
A few who recognized Dang Sangho lent momentum to his pleas, and his efforts gained traction.
Tian Ailang watched Dang Sangho's back as he hurried off, then turned to Bang Deok, who had approached unnoticed.
"It's been a while."
Bang Deok felt a strange pang at Tian Ailang's calm greeting, so at odds with the frantic shouting moments before.
"You've become quite the sturdy oak in the time apart."
An unshakeable oak, no matter the circumstances—that was Bang Deok's fresh impression of the man he'd long missed.
"Ah. And you've gotten even smellier since we last met. Stay back a bit, if you don't mind."
As Tian Ailang spoke and took half a step away, Bang Deok furrowed his brow. The warmth and nostalgia he'd felt evaporated.
Tsking his tongue, Bang Deok asked, "Sigh. Anyway, what's this about poison mist suddenly spreading from the Dangga?"
Instead of answering, Tian Ailang pointed toward the Dangga's main gate.
It was some distance from the market, but anyone in Sacheon Province's capital knew that grand entrance and outer walls. Focusing his internal energy into his eyes, Bang Deok spotted something hazy creeping over the walls like fog or clouds—advancing at a disconcerting speed. Even with his limited sight, the ominous momentum was clear.
"What in the world?"
Ignoring Bang Deok's question, Tian Ailang stared at the approaching poison mist and said, "Did the Hwamo Sect Leader send you, by any chance?"
The abrupt query made Bang Deok look at Tian Ailang anew. He was impressed by how sharply the man read the situation—and by his composure amid the crisis, which made him seem almost otherworldly.
After Drakku rescued him, Bang Deok had personally investigated Tian Ailang. He'd paused upon hearing of his death, but resumed upon learning he lived. The naive youth once strong but worldly-inexperienced now exuded the poise of a veteran. It stemmed from hard-won experience, grounded in unshakable confidence from his absolute martial prowess. Seeing the man who'd saved his life—the one he'd desperately hoped survived—surpass all expectations filled Bang Deok with fresh emotion.
"Hey, that creepy face."
Bang Deok shot Tian Ailang a glare for shattering the moment and nodded. "Ahem. Yeah. I came to clean up after you personally punished the Dangga head's atrocities. But what's that poison mist?"
"The final demand of the Dangga head's mutual destruction as he died. It seems to hold the power to melt everything."
Bang Deok's eyes bulged in shock. "The Dangga head's dead?! Already? The mighty Dang Cheongeum?!"
Tian Ailang glanced indifferently at him and turned back to the mist, which was nearly upon the market. "I killed him. He murdered my dear friends and committed heaven-defying crimes. No time for chit-chat now. You and your beggars should evacuate too."
Bang Deok felt a surge of bewilderment, unsure how to respond—especially seeing Tian Ailang tell him to flee while staying put himself.
"And you're not?"
"I figured it'd burn out by the market's edge. But looking at that momentum... probably not."
The poison mist's terrifying advance was now clear even to Bang Deok's eyes. Tian Ailang's words rang true.
"So you're planning to stop it? Looks like a natural disaster to me."
Tian Ailang chuckled dryly and stepped toward the mist, positioning himself at the road's center linking the Dangga and market. The market stretched along this thoroughfare, flanked by buildings on both sides—the optimal spot to minimize damage.
"Worth a shot. Now focus up—step back."
To Bang Deok, Tian Ailang's actions smacked of reckless heroism. He'd jumped for joy learning he lived, but now here he was courting death again. Bang Deok tsked.
He ordered his distant Beggar Clan subordinates to check for stragglers and evacuate them, then stood beside Tian Ailang.
"I'll help."
Tian Ailang eyed Bang Deok as he assumed a stance beside him—knees slightly bent, hands extended like in Taiji Fist.
A faint smile crossed Tian Ailang's face. This was the righteous path he'd imagined—not marred by overreach and heaven-defying sins.
"Suit yourself."
Tian Ailang took a deep breath, stimulating his empty dantian depleted from wielding thunder qi. He drew in nature's energy, awakening his body's functions. Unfurling his Wind Palm Technique, he sharpened his senses. He stimulated and primed himself with the full essence of wind qi.
Bang Deok likewise activated his dantian with the Descending Dragon Eighteen Palms stance. Circulating his internal energy gradually made his veins bulge and muscles writhe.
Unless one wielded qi with Tian Ailang's ultimate freedom or reached the pinnacle like a Transcendent Realm master, most martial artists needed time to muster internal energy like Bang Deok—though higher realms quickened deployment, some minimum interval remained, like boiling or cooling water.
The Descending Dragon Eighteen Palms, alongside the Iron Staff Method, symbolized the Beggar Clan leader. Passed only to successive chiefs, it comprised eighteen forms—originally twenty-eight, reduced by abridgment and loss.
Bang Deok repeatedly pushed his gathered qi to his palms' tips and drew it back, over and over. It was the first form: Kanglong Youhui—Repentance of the Proud Dragon.
"Hoo."
Bang Deok regulated his breath, staring at the poison mist now nearly upon them. Tian Ailang, like when he'd scattered the southern forest's poison fog, gathered wind's threads with every sense. With more prep time and no surprise like the Pagoda of Eight Corners, he amassed even more.
No signals passed between them, but sensing each other's intent, they unleashed simultaneously.
"Kanglong Youhui!"
With a mighty shout, Bang Deok propelled from his bent knees, thrusting both palms forward.
"Hah!"
Tian Ailang roared too, shoving all his internal energy into the wind's weave.
Kuwaaaaa——!
Papapapapa——!
The ferocious energies lancing from their hands tore the air, slamming into the mist. A wailing cry seemed to rise from the shroud blanketing earth to sky.
In an instant, the mist before them vanished under their assault. The unresolved fringes oozed outward sluggishly, like crawling grubs—the urgency much abated. With the market evacuated, the Dangga had ample time to dissipate the rest.
Through the gap where the mist had dreamlike evaporated, the Dangga's gates and walls stood wide open at the market's entrance, where the pair stood.
Exhausted, his dantian hollow, Bang Deok collapsed butt-first. It was the fullest-power Kanglong Youhui he'd unleashed since learning the art.
"Ugh... gonna die."
Grinning with pride at the impossible feat, Bang Deok looked to Tian Ailang—fatigued yet standing tall unlike himself. Awe and bafflement welled up.
"Hahaha! Incredible!"
Tian Ailang smiled back at Bang Deok's laugh, relief flooding him at safeguarding the civilians. Then he said, "Whew. I underestimated you—you're impressive."
Bang Deok cocked his head, uncomprehending. "What do you mean?"
Tian Ailang shrugged. "Figured that muscular frame meant external arts only, un-beggar-like. But that's some serious internal technique. Kinda cool how it vaguely shapes like a dragon."
Bang Deok scowled, unsure if it was praise or insult, then just sighed. Deep breaths shook off the fatigue as he rose.
"Oof. So, what's next?"
"Back to the Dangga. Gotta wrap things up. You?"
Bang Deok brushed off his rear casually. "Check the market, then head to the Dangga."
Tian Ailang nodded. "See you there."