Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Demon Moon
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A mountain of vegetables and fruits piled up like a basket on a sieve blocked my view completely, forcing me to rely solely on my qi sense to find my way forward.
"Hyeonseong. Isn't that heavy? Want me to take some?"
"I'm fine, Senior Sister."
In truth, Master could navigate without his staff by spreading out his qi membrane with internal energy.
He just didn't bother wasting inner energy on something as trivial as walking around. Besides, Master's reserves weren't exceptional enough to squander on such things.
Balancing the precariously stacked tower of ingredients with the exquisite equilibrium unique to a peak expert, we made our way down the path when a dirt-covered middle-aged man came staggering toward us.
"M-Masters! Oh no, this is bad! Up on the back mountain over there..."
Master's face hardened instantly at the man's gasping words, as if he were on the verge of collapse.
"A red moon..."
Without hearing more, Master kicked off the ground.
I dumped the armful of produce onto the dirt and chased after him.
A crimson moon floating in the sky—a Demon Moon. The gateway linking the mortal realm to the otherworld, unleashing monstrous horrors.
It had been over three hundred years since the first Demon Moon was reported.
Until now, it was treated as a natural disaster whose cause no one knew. Even if the cause were understood, it wouldn't change much.
The only meaningful difference from ordinary calamities like droughts or tsunamis was how straightforward the Demon Moon's destruction was.
A drought kills plants first, then the animals that eat them, and finally humans who depend on both through a drawn-out process.
But a Demon Moon's harm ends simply: it spits out a yokai, and that yokai devours humans.
Like other natural disasters, Demon Moons were graded by severity.
They were classified mainly by shape into New Moon, Half Moon, and Full Moon.
The number of yokai emerging varied wildly by size,
but generally, New Moon yokai matched peak experts, Half Moons transcendent peaks, and Full Moons the Absolute Realm.
The time until the gate opened could be gauged by how much red light filled the pitch-black lunar crack in the sky.
The more red, the less black, the closer it was to opening.
"This one... Less than half a shichen remains. Are we too late?"
A sigh escaped Master's lips.
The boat-shaped Half Moon was quite small.
It seemed unlikely even one average human-sized yokai could emerge.
That explained why it hadn't been spotted earlier.
Yet most of the crack was dyed vivid red, with barely any black left. Proof the gate was imminent.
A Half Moon yokai rivaling a transcendent peak meant it could kill one.
Since the first Demon Moon three hundred years ago, the great sects granted imperial authority to exterminate yokai and seal Demon Moons—immune from official interference—had a principle: deploy at least three times the force for subjugations.
Better for three transcendent peaks to gang up and eliminate it with minimal losses than have your sect's top asset die or be crippled in a desperate duel.
That was why Shaolin of Henan Songshan, boasting the most transcendent peaks among the Nine Great Sects and Eight Schools, borrowed hands from Hubei's Wudang.
But that principle presupposed a major sect spotting the Demon Moon early enough to muster numbers before opening.
Cases like this—observed right before activation—were rare.
Returning to the sect for reinforcements risked the gate opening mid-journey, yokai rampaging.
Facing a Half Moon beast with our current force endangered not just the two disciples but Master's life too.
A true dilemma.
As Master agonized, I ventured casually,
"As Wudang's Number One Speed, Master could sprint back with reinforcements from the sect in one shichen, right?"
"What? True, but... We can't predict the exact opening time that precisely. It might not be half a shichen—it could open in one gak."
"It could open any moment. Then we're done for. Master fetches support; meanwhile, this disciple stays to monitor the gate."
"Too dangerous. Better I face the yokai while you two summon the elders."
"That puts Master at risk. If things go my way, no one gets hurt."
I drove the wedge home as he pondered the binary choice, both risky.
"Worst case, I run. I don't fancy dying here."
"You rascal..."
"So go, quickly. This disciple trusts only Master."
A peak expert's with Upper Dantian open decides fast. Master's eyes hardened with resolve as he unbelted his sword and handed it over.
Pine Pattern Ancient Sword, engraved with a pine motif on the blade—Wudang's treasure.
"Won't take long. Stay safe."
I glanced at Senior Sister beside me, then nodded.
Boom!
A massive crater formed where Master stood, propelled by his thunderous stomp. His form already streaked through the sky like an arrow, rippling shockwaves in his wake.
About one gak after Master departed.
"Senior Sister."
"Y-Yeah?"
"You should head down now."
Her tensed shoulders jumped.
"What? What about you, Hyeonseong?!"
Horror and worry.
A dark satisfaction bloomed at her spot-on reaction.
Of course, I had a prepared response.
"Master's gone for reinforcements, but if the yokai hits villages before they arrive? I'll monitor here; you descend and evacuate the helpless commoners. That's proper."
My words rang with unassailable righteousness.
Sacrificing oneself to save the weak.
That was Wudang's—or all orthodox sects'—ideal of chivalry.
A lie even a dog would laugh at.
Commoners? A thousand or ten thousand dying meant nothing to me.
But Senior Sister, blind, read emotions and truths in voices better than anyone.
She'd detect the lie in my tone or habits, even if I didn't.
So I performed desperately, fooling even myself.
Right now, I was Beggars' Sect's Fiery Beggar Hero, Volcanic's Crimson Flower Divine Sword, Thunderbolt Spear, Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's Asura Demon Buddha.
Fools weeping over some stranger's death, gladly sacrificing for worthless lives...
Whatever it took, Senior Sister couldn't stay.
"B-But..."
"Just preparing for the worst, Senior Sister. Might be nothing. Better safe than sorry, right?"
She chewed her lip, then circulated her inner energy. Qi membrane spread three chi out; she was ready to dash blindly at full speed.
"Hyeonseong. Promise me."
"What?"
She groped for my hand. Her worry flowed as warmth.
Leaving me by a gate that might birth a yokai anytime guilted her. Unnecessarily.
"Absolutely, no matter what, don't get hurt..."
She bowed her head, voice trembling.
"Yes, Senior Sister."
I swore readily.
Not yet transcendent, she couldn't replicate Master's aerial dash.
Just fleet steps skimming grass down the slope.
Bathed in the breeze from her lightness skill, I thought,
'Guess I have a talent for acting.'
She hadn't seen through it.
I planned to get hurt—a lot.
At my level, it was touch-and-go: live or die.
Shoving aside such unproductive worries, I muttered flatly,
"Come out already, you mongrel."
As if answering,
the blood-red Half Moon shattered, and a shadowy humanoid silhouette stepped through the crack.
But under sunlight, its form defied humanity.
A glossy porcelain head, featureless save a jagged slit mouth.
Slender shoulders bore mantis-like grayish blades; side protrusions sprouted three-fingered claws, sharp as talons.
Stooped over seven chi tall.
Skinny as a scarecrow, yet those spindly arms could crush boulders barehanded, far beyond any strongman.
Reverse-jointed legs like deer or horse evoked insects fused with beasts.
Its grotesque form radiated malice.
The lower jaw split wide, revealing dense crimson teeth.
Then.
[---_--_-!]
A shriek tearing the air with eerie pitch shifts.
Sharp enough to shatter the will of most men just hearing it.
No beast of this world screeched like that.
Thus, it was no beast of this world.
Demon Moon literally meant the moon of yokai.
Hence, what emerged from a swelling Demon Moon was inevitably otherworldly predators that fed on humans: yokai.
The word "yokai" boiled my blood.
An emotion etched into marrow and instinct.
Suppressing the rage filling my mind like wildfire, I spat venomously,
"Damn you."
Decades from now, the great chaos.
The king of all monstrosities, Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan, blotted the sun with a colossal Demon Moon, ushering eternal night.
Crops withered without sunlight. Ordinary folk died without rice. Proven in three years since his manifestation.
Yet in my long life, no one whose death left a mark on me starved for rice. All were experts sustaining on breathwork alone.
Reason they died? Combat with yokai.
Fiery Beggar Hero, Crimson Flower Divine Sword, Thunderbolt Spear, Black Mysterious Sword Emperor, Asura Demon Buddha.
Master, Senior Sister, Wudang.
And the world.
Things lost in my past life.
Friends and rivals, comrades and foes, family and society—none saved by this half-baked Daoist. All losses stemmed from yokai.
Of course, they're alive now.
Even if I'd be split by one axe swing from my prime self—this laughable death by shredding.
Senior Sister, Master, old comrades dubbed Three Heavens Seven Absolutes—they lived at this point. They would.
I'd regressed; time remained till their deaths.
But.
Was that truly enough?
Were the grudges and lingering regrets dominating my life so trivial?
Did regression erase all those deaths?
I remember Wudang corpses strewn at the mountain's edge.
Their final moments amid era's tempests.
Even if the world forgot.
'I won't.'
I mustn't forget.
I must remember.
Setting aside the righteous prattle of江湖 fools about justice and heroism.
It was simply the proper way.
"Come at me."
I drew the sword.
For those who died,
to avenge them,
to wash away—even a little—the guilt of failing to save them.