4. Thousand Mechanisms Continuous Ring Dance
After taking in the essence, the remaining disciples headed for the sparring grounds.
The sparring matches were not under the Sex Fiend's jurisdiction but that of the Hall Masters beneath her, so she did not make an appearance herself.
By the time we arrived at the grounds, the remaining candidates had already begun preparing, as if it were second nature.
Some picked up weapons from the racks stocked in the arena, while others swung their own blades a few times, loosening up their bodies.
"So, Scrub. What weapon do you specialize in?"
"...Hard to say. There's a lot I can work with."
I had held countless women in my arms, and quite a few of them had been masters far superior to me.
Their martial arts weren't the finest in the world, mind you — but they had been more than qualified to call themselves masters wherever they went.
Since I had learned, dismantled, and rebuilt every one of those arts upon the foundation of the carnal arts, I could handle most any weapon.
'...Now that I think about it, isn't this Great Elder material?'
Crafting an entirely new martial art from scratch, beginning to end, was not something just anyone could do.
Only now did it occur to me that perhaps my talent had been extraordinary all along.
And yet here I was, using that talent to play the lust fiend... honestly, it was absurd when I thought about it.
Still, that didn't mean I'd be setting the title down.
It had become nothing less than the purpose of my life, after all.
"......"
After examining the weapons rack with careful attention, I finally drew out the Snake-Belly Sword.
"The Snake-Belly Sword? That thing's a nightmare to wield properly. Our little Scrub's taste in weapons is as scrubby as his skills, huh?"
"I can handle it fine, so don't worry your pretty head about it."
"Hey, I'm showing genuine concern here!"
Whatever about it had rubbed her the wrong way, Yeon Hayeong pouted, lips jutting out, and grumbled under her breath.
'So that's how it was... I remember now. The matches were always fought against opponents chosen in advance.'
Not that the matches amounted to anything more than a hollow show.
If the successive Sex Fiends had actually fought these matches properly, no one would have ever dared say the Sex Fiend lacked martial strength.
Since the Divine Cult worshipped strength above all, they performed the ritual simply because they had no other choice.
'Hollow, all of it. Not a single shred of truth in it.'
Wi Jicheon had always regarded the Sex Fiends of the past with contempt.
The moment they saw a pretty face, they would pounce and take her by force, and in some cases drug her and kill her afterward.
Not a trace of affection — of any emotion at all — existed in that process... it was enough to make anyone's stomach turn.
'If I want to sharpen my skills, I should pick the strongest bastard available.'
That said, the martial prowess of everyone gathered here was hardly negligible.
There were certainly those among them who trained with unrelenting diligence.
Those who had chosen their weapons stepped onto the sparring platform and faced one another.
"From this moment, each of you will name your opponent."
As the Hall Masters of Yohwa Palace gave the word, the disciples pointed out their opponents without hesitation.
Naming someone was not strictly required, of course.
Merely being named was enough to obligate a match.
Some had been named by several people at once... and in those cases, they either had to fight them all simultaneously or take them on one after another.
'Around this time, I had no presence whatsoever, but I was on the unusual side...'
Exactly two fingers pointed at me.
One was someone I had faced in my previous life. The other was someone I never had.
'I don't know what wind blew through to make two of them pick me, but...'
How fortunate.
They'd make for perfect warm-ups.
Wearing a languid expression, Wi Jicheon likewise pointed out his opponents with his finger.
"...!"
"Is he out of his mind...?"
Several disciples who followed the line of his finger gasped or recoiled in horror, whispering among themselves.
And no wonder... the opponent Wi Jicheon had named was not a fellow direct disciple, but one of Jaryu Saekma's own children.
Yeon Seoryeon, no less — the one regarded, alongside Yeon Hayeong, as closest to becoming the next Sex Fiend.
The world had already granted her the epithet Purple Void, and she was a properly certified martial artist in her own right.
And a good-for-nothing libertine who had never shown any particular talent had just named her as his opponent.
"......"
Everyone assumed Yeon Seoryeon would surely be furious.
Click. Click.
But she merely toyed with the sword at her hip, one-handed, gazing blankly into empty air with an expressionless face.
"The opponents have been decided. The matches will proceed in order. Everyone return to your places."
"Understood."
At the Hall Masters' command, they all withdrew to their respective spots.
Wi Jicheon was no exception, and he returned to his own place as well.
"......"
Yeon Seoryeon watched him go for a moment — then set her feet in motion.
How should I put it... the sparring matches were mediocre.
To be fair, they were a respectable showing among the junior disciples, befitting the students of a Seven Demon — but in Wi Jicheon's eyes, which had watched countless masters, every single one of them was simply mediocre.
'...How dull.'
He could see every one of their movements with perfect clarity.
One might almost be fooled into thinking oneself an absolute supreme master... but the truth was, their realms and Wi Jicheon's were hardly different at all.
Only what they had piled upon that foundation separated them.
Fighting, and fighting, and fighting again, the time kept slipping by.
And at last, Yeon Hayeong's turn came.
"Hey, Scrub! Watch closely and learn from your big sis here!"
"...I'm pretty sure I'm the older one."
He gave as good a retort as he could manage, but she half-ignored him and hopped up onto the platform first.
A black whip coiled in her hand.
"Mmm~"
As she unfurled the whip and swung it this way and that, her opponent climbed up as well.
The direct disciple with the dark navy hair seemed to favor saber techniques, because he settled into his stance the moment he arrived.
"You seem awfully unfocused today. You sure you'll be alright, Martial Sister?"
"Ha, look at that — now even the strangest freaks are crawling up the ranks. Aside from joining early, you've got nothing worth boasting about..."
She spared the man a sidelong glance — without even bothering to assign him a nickname — and fixed him with eyes of pure contempt.
"Got a little talent and now you strut around, is that it, Martial Sister? Skill or no, you've still got at least three more opponents to face after me."
"They're all just more of the same, aren't they? I'm going to win anyway, so why bother being careful?"
She tilted her head as if she genuinely couldn't understand the concern.
"...You'll regret that someday."
"Regret's something you'll be feeling after I beat the living daylights out of you."
Yeon Hayeong settled into her stance at last.
But then she tossed her whip carelessly to the floor, raised her fingers into claws, and flashed a smile.
"No need to sully my dear Black Love on the likes of you. I'll just kill you bare-handed."
"Why you...!"
At the vicious warning, the man's arms trembled — but he quickly smothered his rage and took the leopard stance.
However far down the demonic path one walked, a martial artist still observed the courtesies of one.
Even the demonic path had its barest line of propriety.
"Seventh Direct Disciple, Hwirang."
The direct disciples were all numbered by the order of their admittance.
Hwirang was the seventh to enter, hence Seventh Disciple — and most of them addressed one another by these titles rather than their names.
They were competitors, after all.
Sharing no blood, there was no reason whatsoever to go around calling each other 'big brother' or 'big sister.'
"...Jaheo. Yeon Hayeong."
She hadn't taken any stance, yet she still offered her epithet and name in return.
As Jaryu Saekma's daughter, she outranked the direct disciples in both value and standing — but the barest courtesy still had to be observed.
She, too, showed no intention of crossing that drawn line.
"......"
The Hall Master's gaze passed back and forth between the two. He held his silence for a moment, then gave a nod.
"Begin the match."
Whoosh!
Before the Hall Master's word had even settled, Hwirang launched himself at her.
A pale crimson aura wrapped around both hands as a haze of heat rose from them.
Disciple of the Sex Fiend or not, he was still a being who carried the demon within — for besides the carnal arts bestowed by the Sex Fiend, he had mastered other demonic arts as well.
Evil Flame Hand, First Form.
Evil Flame Opening Strike.
His hand came rushing in, scattering crimson embers in its wake.
Each sweep of the hand left behind a faint scarlet trail.
A single clean hit, and he could tear her apart on the spot—
"Getting a bit full of yourself now that you've improved a little, Senior Brother?"
CRUNCH!
The moment the voice rang out, came the sound of something being skewered clean through.
"Gah—hk...!"
A slender, supple hand punched straight through Hwirang's face without the slightest hesitation — fingers plunging deep into his skull.
"Try training a little harder in your next life. Not that you'd so much as reach the tips of my toes."
"Y-you... bitch—"
BOOM!!!
Violet energy began seeping through her hand into his head — and moments later, Hwirang met his end as his skull burst like a popped balloon.
Had he lost a limb, he might have survived... but his head was pierced by her fingers in a single instant, and death claimed him before he could so much as scream.
'...The threshold of Transcendent Peak, is it?'
Considering that Jaryu Saekma herself had only just reached the threshold of the Transformation Realm, Yeon Hayeong's current level was nothing short of staggering.
'Hmm... doesn't look like her footwork has any set forms.'
Rather than fixed techniques, her movements seemed to mimic those of an animal.
'Like a serpent's motion, almost.'
The smallest details were things he couldn't recall no matter how many times he combed through the memories of his past life.
Even more so if they hadn't played any significant role the last time around.
After that, the remaining three direct disciples all met their deaths without landing so much as a scratch on her.
"Mmm~"
When the match ended, she licked the blood from her hand with her tongue, then turned her head — and met my eyes.
Smirk.
As if nothing at all had happened, she waved her hand and flashed a bewitching smile.
That smile seemed to carry no meaning whatsoever... but to my eyes, it said something else entirely.
Even seeing me like this — you still think you can win the Great Battle of Heavenly Blood?
That was how it felt, anyway.
And of course, there was only one answer to give in this moment.
With a languid smile, I gave a slow nod.
When I answered as though there were nothing in this world I feared... she glanced back at me with eyes that found me all the more intriguing, then soon left her place.
The matches carried on after that as well.
Some died, others lost arms or legs, but not a single match ended until one side surrendered.
Everyone who crossed blades with Jaryu Saekma's daughter went down in defeat.
'Most of the disciples groveled for their lives, begging to be spared.'
Only natural.
There are precious few who can accept death with composure.
And even fewer among the young — barely past adulthood, as they all were now.
"Second, Ninth, and Tenth Disciples — prepare yourselves."
Before long, my turn came, and I stepped up onto the platform, Snake-Belly Sword in hand.
The Ninth Disciple, who had gone up before me, stood waiting with his sword drawn.
"It's been a while, Senior Brother."
"......"
"I've sparred everyone else at least once, but somehow never managed a match with you, Senior Brother. So I thought—"
"Why did you come up alone?"
Wi Jicheon cut him off and posed the question.
"...What?"
"I asked why you came up alone. Both of you should have come up."
At the second question, asked as though the obvious needed explaining, the Ninth Disciple's dumbfounded expression twisted into something vicious and murderous.
"Senior Brother... it seems all that idle prattling has rattled your brain loose. Care to answer for that little remark?"
"I said it because I can answer for it. Would I say it if I couldn't?"
The atmosphere turned hostile in an instant.
Not that I'd ever had any intention of going soft on men — not when I hadn't set my sights on them in the first place.
"...You'll regret those words."
In the end, the Ninth Disciple called up the Tenth as well, and three of us stood on the sparring platform.
The Ninth gripped his sword, the Tenth a massive greataxe, and both glared at me like they wanted to tear me limb from limb.
"Still far short of what it takes... but ah well, perfect for a warm-up, I suppose."
Wi Jicheon muttered as he regarded the two of them.
Naturally, there was no chance in hell they hadn't heard that.
Grrk.
They ground their teeth hard enough that the creak of grinding enamel was faintly audible, and took their stances.
"Ninth Disciple, Yeo Seon."
"Tenth Disciple, Paldu."
Where raw power was everything, courtesies went out the window.
Joining early didn't guarantee strength, and joining late didn't guarantee weakness.
In their eyes right now, I was prey.
Their martial attainment did edge a notch above mine, after all.
"Second Disciple, Wi Jicheon."
I, on the other hand, had never been calmer.
Neither of the men before me was a woman after my heart, and neither was remotely a threat to my life.
And so—
"Begin."
"Today I'm going to shred you to ribbons!!!"
"You'd best be ready!"
The two charged, driving their power to its absolute limit.
Each meant to end it in a flash with his most trusted technique.
Blood-Venom Serpent-Scorpion Sword, Second Form.
Venom Scorpion Unfurls Its Tail.
The joints of Yeo Seon's sword arm twisted grotesquely, forging a sword path all but impossible to predict.
Blood-Rage Mountain-Sundering Axe, First Form.
Blood-Rage Single Strike.
Paldu, axe in hand, leapt high into the air and brought the blade crashing down with all his might.
Land that blow, and he could easily kill even a Peak Realm master...
'Just flow along the gap he's opened and slip past it. Simple as that.'
So long as you refused to trade raw force for raw force, it posed no danger at all.
I tossed the Snake-Belly Sword from my hand down onto the ground.
I'd been tempted to try out the weapon... but using it might actually get me killed, so.
Whoosh!
I lunged at Yeo Seon first.
His sword path and movements were erratic — but that was all. It was a sword art that would collapse into nothing once broken through even once.
"...!"
His eyes went wide, wearing the look of a man who never dreamed I would evade everything.
But it was already too late.
I had finished every preparation.
Just as I had forged my mental cultivation methods through countless encounters with women hailed as masters, so too had I forged my own martial art through them.
Bound to no single weapon, taking a thousand forms in the space of an instant.
A shape-shifting art that gathered the martial skills of countless female masters, usable in any situation imaginable.
I couldn't yet unleash its full power... but should it ever reach completion, it would become a force that no one under heaven could stand against — Unrivaled Beneath the Heavens.
Dance of a Thousand Mechanisms in Linked Chains — Foot, First Form.
God Spear Protrusion.
Among the women I had held, there had been a female master known by the epithet First Foot.
Her kickwork advanced a half-step faster than any art in existence, seizing instant superiority of speed.
'She loved spreading her legs straight out into a line while standing, every single time... good memories, that.'
The I-Shape Challenge had been all the rage back then, I recalled.
She always got her kick caught, so I'd even put on an act — feigning that I couldn't win, feigning flustered panic...
Would be nice to see her again.
In any case, my leg shot out with the speed of a lightning bolt—
CRUNCH!
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.
I drove it squarely into his solar plexus and sent him flying far across the arena.
"...You little—!!!"
And as the brute... ahem, as Paldu came plummeting down from the sky, he wore an expression of apoplectic fury.
"You think scrunching up that ugly face is going to win you a fight you've already lost?"
I leapt straight at him without slowing.
The traces of a pugilist who had always demanded an arm-wrestling match were plain to see.
Dance of a Thousand Mechanisms in Linked Chains — Fist, Second Form.
Continuous Linked Twin Blades.
Twin fists honed sharp as spearheads hammered into his massive frame.
ratatatatatatatatata!!!
Hanging helplessly in midair, his axe swing half-prepared, the man had no way to resist — he could only take the barrage, utterly helpless,
WHAM!!!
until the final fist buried in his abdomen launched him airborne, only for him to come crashing back down to the floor.
THUD...
A gap so vast that the word 'overwhelming' felt insufficient to describe it.
When I finished off the two of them and landed, a dead silence had swallowed the surroundings whole.
"...The winner is the Second Disciple."
The Hall Master of Yohwa Palace, first among us to collect himself, declared the winner — and with that, I too stepped down from the sparring platform.