Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Sword Qi
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After spending the first night since my regression staring wide-eyed into the darkness, I finished my morning training—which I had never skipped in my lifetime—and headed to the Medical Hall where Senior Brother Hyeon-gyu was hospitalized.
"Greetings, Senior Uncle."
"Mm. Hyeonseong?"
The weary-looking middle-aged man crushing dried herbs between his fingers was the Medical Hall Master, Mugeon.
I had grown up receiving all sorts of special privileges under the sect leader's support, as a prodigy hailed as the greatest talent in Wudang Sect since its founding—with qualifications to access every section of the Scripture Pavilion, which housed the Wudang's Merit scriptures and Daoist classics; the right to annotate the works of our predecessors or create revised editions; and more.
By the time I began learning martial arts, the assignments for the first-generation disciples were already set, so a few overlooked formalities made it no issue in name only.
Among those various privileges, spirit elixirs were indispensable.
Senior Uncle Mugeon, the Medical Hall Master, had perfectly inherited the formula for Great Purity Pills from his predecessors and had even developed a degraded version called Small Purity Pills that could be made more cheaply and easily as a pill refinement master.
Originally, Great Purity Pills were rare elixirs permitted only to the sect leader and his heir, but despite not being the sect leader's direct disciple, I had opportunities to obtain Great Purity Pills and numerous Small Purity Pills.
I owed a debt to Senior Uncle Mugeon, who had holed up in the pill refinery for half a year, stoking the fires nonstop to produce extra Great Purity Pills.
"Is Senior Brother still...?"
"Mm. No. No broken bones anywhere, and this time he was beaten cleanly. His face is a bit swollen from the bruising, but it'll go down in a fortnight or so."
...Was that okay?
Senior Uncle Mugeon brushed it off matter-of-factly, but ordinary swelling that took a fortnight to subside wasn't a trivial matter.
I had no idea what my forty-five-years-ago self had been thinking, but leaving a low-tier first-rate still lounging around in such a state was...
Setting aside any guilt, it was shameful.
Catching a tiger barehanded deep in the rugged mountains might earn you acclaim as a hero of the world,
but kicking a stray alley cat for fun wouldn't win you praise even as empty flattery.
"May I take a look?"
"Mm, you, Hyeonseong? Sure... just don't beat him more."
Senior Uncle Mugeon tilted his head quizzically before turning his gaze back to the herbs.
His reaction wasn't incomprehensible.
Though both dealt with the human body, martial arts and medicine were entirely different fields of study.
Even Senior Uncle Mugeon himself was only at the first-rate level.
However, even if Senior Uncle Mugwang—the transcendent master called the Nine Great Sects' Supreme Swordsman—came, he couldn't provide better medical care for Senior Brother Hyeon-gyu than Senior Uncle Mugeon.
After all, next to high officials and nobles, the profession that visited doctors most frequently in the world was martial artists. There was good reason they sought physicians instead of attempting self-treatment despite their vast knowledge from years in the jianghu.
Thus, leaving a doctor's work to the doctor was both jianghu custom and common sense.
But common sense was just that—common sense.
To survive in a world where it had collapsed, I had pioneered martial arts that transcended common sense,
and in that process, I had become a warrior who understood the human body better than any doctor in the world.
Moreover, when it came to healing injuries...
That was my area of expertise, one even a great immortal descending to earth couldn't match.
"Mm... Huh. Primordial Heavenly Venerable."
A hazy gleam flickered in Medical Hall Master Mugeon's eyes.
It was because I had activated the Eye Technique.
My internal energy concentrated in my eyes projected outward, scrutinizing Senior Brother Hyeon-gyu's face down to the finest detail.
His eyes shining with light, Mugeon tugged at Hyeon-gyu's cheeks and eyelids in utter fascination.
"How is this possible?"
In the spot where Hyeonseong had left, not a trace of bluish bruising remained on Senior Brother Hyeon-gyu's face, which still slumbered undisturbed.
An apology to Senior Brother Hyeon-gyu would be more than sufficient at this point.
He'd be happier about being able to run around starting tomorrow than mere words anyway.
I was always a man of action over talk.
With the apology done, it was time to go chop the firewood the sect leader had ordered.
The ruddy western sky evoked the Purple Divine Sword wielded by the Crimson Flower Divine Sword of Huashan. A sunset like that.
Sunsets still felt unfamiliar to me, having lived for decades chasing an undying moon.
Normally at this hour, if there was no fighting, I'd spar with the Heavenly Demon during evening training, but now there was no Heavenly Demon, no demons to battle.
Yet skipping evening training wasn't an option.
So as a stopgap, I planned to combine chopping firewood as punishment with training.
'If only they'd locked me in the punishment chamber for a month or two, I could've reworked my breathing technique in that time.'
I quickened my steps with a smack of my lips.
A sword at my waist, a hand axe for woodcutting in my left hand, I prowled the woods for suitable trees.
When I reached a spot with firm ground and gentle slope, my hand went to the sword hilt at my waist.
Srrrring—. A clear sword cry rang out with the draw.
The sensation of drawing the blade felt utterly alien.
Even having a right arm attached felt off to begin with.
When I moved it intentionally, it was fine, but just walking felt like a weight dangling from my right shoulder.
'After thirty years as a one-armed man, no wonder it won't feel natural overnight.'
The reason I, who had relentlessly trained Taiji Wisdom Sword at Wudang, had suddenly picked up an axe was largely because I could no longer wield a sword.
Rather than retrain left-hand swordsmanship after losing the right hand that had gripped a blade my whole life, I opted for the somewhat familiar axe, easier to handle one-handed.
Moreover, I had a talent for axes as a weapon, quickly matching my swordsmanship achievements with it.
But now that my right arm was back, there was no need to cling to that mindset.
I hurled the axe far into a tree and channeled internal energy through my arm's meridians.
When the circulating energy finally reached my sword-gripping hand,
in the forest depths where even sunlight piercing the draped leaves barely reached, the silver blade alone began to glow.
To the eye, martial artists from third-rate to first-rate looked no different from strong ordinary folk.
Shattering a rock with a fist? Just needed immense hand strength.
Leaping a high wall in one step? Just needed immense leg strength.
But emitting light from internal energy via the sword was impossible for mere mortals with brute strength.
Thus, Sword Qi was the symbol of masters.
Those who wielded the art of forging sword light from internal energy were called at the pinnacle—the utmost heights human power could reach.
Excluding a few elders immersed in Daoist classics who neglected martial arts, most Wudang elders—apart from nine transcendent masters—were pinnacle experts.
In simple terms, the average skill of Nine Great Sects elders was pinnacle level.
I had stepped into this realm at age twelve, earning me cries of once-in-a-millennium genius from my sect elders, but by my current standards, it was laughably inadequate.
'Pinnacle entry-level won't cut it. At minimum, I need Sword Qi Forming Gang...'
I compressed the Sword Qi broadly spread over the entire blade.
The Sword Qi filling the three-chi-long, one-and-a-half-chi-wide blade compressed into fine Sword Threads, each no thicker than ordinary thread as the name implied.
I poured more internal energy into my hilt-gripping hand, spawning dozens of Sword Threads. It consumed dozens of times the energy of ordinary Sword Qi.
These threads of internal energy wove together at my will.
When I opened my eyes, focused on controlling the true energy, an intense light flooded my vision—like observing a blazing star up close in the night sky.
A gray mass of energy boasting blinding luminosity.
Sword Gang, the dividing line between pinnacle entry and peak.
Even among pinnacle experts, the gap between those who handled starlight and those who didn't was stark.
As mentioned, its inefficiency—devouring dozens of times more energy than regular Sword Qi—meant it couldn't be spammed freely at pinnacle level, but in masters' fights, trump cards were key.
Sword Gang overflowed as a life-saving ace for dire moments.
Maintaining Sword Gang any longer at my current level was impossible. My whole body felt drained.
I slowly swung the now-hard-to-hold Sword Gang.
Deliberately slow.
Gray Sword Gang detached from the silver blade and advanced forward.
Metal cuts wood, Sword Qi cuts metal. Simple facts.
However, Sword Gang,
this mass of qi bearing immense heat and pressure, didn't merely "slice" cleanly.
Kwaguaguaguaguagua—!
Heat billowing from the Sword Gang rose like a haze, warping the scenery.
Trees, branches, and trunks in its path crumpled, snapped, shredded, and toppled under the advancing Sword Gang and its pressure wave.
Along its trajectory, earth overturned, soil, rocks, and dust exploding outward.
After advancing several zhang, the Sword Gang dispersed in midair, having reduced everything in its path to scorched ruin.
I infused internal energy into the sleeves of my black-and-white Taiji Daoist robes, making them flap.
Pushing aside the billowing dust clouds revealed splintered logs strewn about and thoroughly upturned soil.
Standing at the center of the newly cleared forest glade, I pondered.
'Can I use this for firewood?'
If I just shake off the dirt and split it thin...
'Still too much work.'
With a deep sigh, I reached out toward the distant axe embedded in the tree.
"...?"
I reached again.
The axe didn't return.
Its iron blade firmly lodged in the thick trunk, the handle might as well have been a tree branch—the axe stood stock-still.
"What."
Why isn't this working?
Beyond that question,
a sudden realization flashed through my mind.
'Oh right, I can't use Air Grasp anymore.'
Smacking my forehead elicited an involuntary groan.
How utterly incompetent was I at this age? A moment of realizing there was always a floor beneath the floor.
It sounded like mocking laughter from somewhere. Faint, like wind slipping through trees, tickling the leaves.
"Tch, damn it."
I dug at my ear and sauntered toward the tree with the axe stuck in it.
Through the toppled trees, the glade's sky came into view, already darkening.