Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Sparring
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The formation of the Middle Dantian, achieved in a state of No-Self.
When I came back to my senses, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed.
'Three days? Four? Probably even longer.'
In this training cave where outside light was blocked, I couldn't even see the sun rise and set, making it all the worse.
"Ugh."
A sticky feeling made me furrow my brow.
The blood I'd vomited during my qi circulation had formed a dark red puddle, soaking my pants. It was because I'd been sitting cross-legged for days on end.
When I wiped my mouth with my palm, the dried blood crumbled and fell away.
Of course it would—I'd abused the acupoint between my dantian and heart like a madman to trap the Small Return Pill's natural qi inside.
'Still, the results speak for themselves.'
I circulated my inner energy to inspect my internals, and sure enough, I could feel four rings rotating around my heart.
It was safe to say I'd reached the fourth stage of the Nine Rings Divine Art. In my previous life, I'd stopped at eight rings— one short of the unprecedented ninth—proving that a good start really was half the battle.
As a test, I coated my hand blade with sword qi.
The delay between the mental command and the qi manifesting had noticeably shortened.
My inner energy output had improved dramatically.
'Solid performance.'
Grinning, I sprang to my feet.
My legs nearly cramped midway, almost sending me tumbling, but I stubbornly pressed on as if nothing was wrong.
Opening the training cave door revealed the distant sun hanging on the horizon. The twilight spectacle, permitted only for the brief span of one gak in a twelve-si day, dyed the western sky in vibrant hues.
Against the backdrop of the sinking sunset, someone was swinging a sword.
Faint, foam-like afterimages lingered and rippled in the air along the smooth, flowing sword path—like a sword dance.
The naturally emanating light qi scattered the sunset's red rays into a rainbow.
'Why train outside when there's a perfectly good cave?'
The natural question arose, but I didn't let it show as I called out.
"What are you doing here, Senior Brother?"
The top disciple of Master Hyeon-ja's branch—my eldest senior brother, Hyeon-gong.
Unlike Martial Uncle Mugwang, who sported a prickly Zhang Fei-like beard and a massive scar across his face, he was a neatly handsome middle-aged man.
A direct disciple of Martial Uncle Mugwang, he'd been personally taught the Two Yi Divine Art, passed down only to Wudang's sect leaders generation after generation. A prodigy.
Before earning the moniker Jade Stream Sword, he'd been called Sword Dragon—a nickname from his Chongmu Academy days, signifying he was the top among late-generation sword users.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, he was slated to become Wudang's next sect leader, but in my previous life, Master Hyeon-ja's branch never produced one.
"Ah, Hyeonseong."
My eldest senior brother paused his sword swings and smiled.
With over twenty years between us, and given his exceptional talent as Martial Uncle Mugwang's direct disciple—obsessed with martial arts—he'd been one of the few in Master Hyeon-ja's branch who could physically overpower me as a child.
Of course, that wouldn't be the case now.
"I've been waiting for you."
"Me?"
"Yes. I thought we'd chat once you recovered, but you went straight to the training cave after getting up. Uncle-master Muryul and Junior Sister Hyeon-ye were quite worried."
That was definitely my fault, so I just scratched my head.
Separately, I was dying to ask why he'd been waiting for me.
"This time... you really did us a huge favor. You might not know it yet, but praises for the main sect are echoing louder than ever across Hubei. Donations are several times what they were last year. Uncle-master Sanbon even said he'd use the yokai corpse to forge a new weapon."
Indeed, sword qi hadn't even scratched the blade on that yokai's arm.
That meant the yokai's blade had the strength of tempered steel at least.
Corpses of high-grade yokai at the Half Moon level or so were always useful everywhere.
From hide, bones, and teeth for weapons to the rare inner core they sometimes carried.
Live yokai were all utter bastards, but there was no reason to hate their dead bodies.
The oddly curved shape, awkward for a typical sword blade, was perfect material for Uncle-master Sanbon, who wielded a dao.
But this wasn't what Senior Brother Hyeon-gong truly wanted to say. With my sharp instincts—on par with the Preservation Nerve—I could tell.
After a pause like he was letting it simmer, his mouth finally opened.
"That Demon Moon in Henan... it was truly something else."
A faint tremor colored his voice.
"The moment that blood-red gate opened, house-sized Half Moon yokai and swarms of New Moon ones charging out like enraged bulls—I'll never forget it. Even the Peerless Martial Formation, the One Hundred Eight Arhats, was a sight to behold. Four layers of circular encirclement arrays constantly rotating and shifting, pouring out strikes..."
I calmly understood his fear.
Foxes, turtles, spiders, snakes, wolves, and more... Yokai pouring from Demon Moons mostly resembled mortal beasts.
But no beast was ever perfectly 'like' a yokai.
That subtle wrongness triggered instinctive terror and disgust.
The revulsion and rage when facing yokai only grew familiar after thirty years of slicing them daily without fail. For an inexperienced senior brother, it must have been a shock.
"I realized my shortcomings. Just intercepting the New Moon yokai that broke through the formation had me breaking a sweat. If I'd had to face a Half Moon one alone... I couldn't have done what you did."
But few people can admit their own fear and weakness like that.
I never could.
Since childhood, whenever I feared thunder or spiders, I'd convince myself 'my body's trembling not from fear, but anger,' then lash out. A kind of emotional defense mechanism.
And the world calls those who define their own emotions madmen.
Originally, if you don't cry when you should and rage when you shouldn't, soon you can't tell when to cry or rage. You go from being called crazy to actually becoming crazy.
In that sense, Senior Brother Hyeon-gong was a fine man.
In my previous life, I was known as a temperamental madman, but I didn't hate good-natured people. A few exceptions, but generally.
So I liked him.
I slowly opened my mouth.
"If there are shortcomings,"
I wanted to set the mood a bit, but my blood-soaked pants felt heavy and ruined the vibe. Still, I continued.
"then we must make up for them."
"Haha... yes, you're right."
Not noticing my pants, he gave a wry smile, bowed at the waist in a fist salute, and said,
"May this Hyeon-gong-zi request a lesson?"
"I'll learn a move or two myself."
Senior brother drew his sword. I picked up the one I'd brought into the cave just in case.
"Shall we limit our inner energy?"
"If you can win that way, sure."
At my words, he burst out laughing, and from his sword tip—like his moniker—blue sword qi flowed like rippling waves.
I ignited my ashen sword qi in response.
Senior brother and I stepped forward simultaneously. The ground didn't rumble or upheave. It was thanks to training in the footwork derived from Wudang's Cloud Stepping Steps, renowned for lightness like stepping on clouds.
Clang! The moment our charging swords met with a sharp ring,
"...I lose."
Senior brother muttered in a hollow voice, his grip releasing the sword.
Ping-ring—thunk. His sword, flung skyward from my hand, landed a beat later, embedding in the ground.
"What was that just now...? It felt like true sword and sword formula crossed, overlapping my blade like the character for rice..."
"I named it Sword Peak. I forgot to submit the basic formula paper to the Scripture Pavilion. Its framework isn't much different from other Taiji Wisdom Sword forms, so it shouldn't be hard to learn."
I spoke calmly, but I was genuinely impressed with senior brother. Just accurately perceiving the technique warranted praise.
I figured I owed him some advice in return.
I pulled his sword from the ground and handed it back as I spoke.
"The Taiji at the root of the Taiji Wisdom Sword encompasses the eternal cycle, including the world's birth and death. Circulation is flow, and water qi suits the 'flowing' imagery best among the five elements, that's true. But you don't need to fixate so much on the image of water. Be it water, fire, wood... Wudang's Taiji embraces all things under heaven. Just let it flow."
Once Wudang sword gains momentum, it's hard to stem like a raging river—that much was true. But this was advice not to play too defensively early on and risk losing your weapon.
Senior brother's expression went blank as he listened.