The Sword Becomes Light
Amid a frigid, dead silence—
Crunch.
A grotesque sound rang out, again and again.
CRACK!
The sound of bones being crushed.
Crunch.
"...Ngh."
At last a groan slipped past my lips despite myself. My will, it seemed, had failed to hold the pain at bay.
"Hm."
The Heavenly Demon pressed his attacks upon me with methodical care, as though taking my measure.
"You amuse me."
First my left arm had been shattered. Then my left shoulder. My right ankle. Then my right knee. As if testing me, he had been gnawing away at my body, joint by joint, from the extremities inward.
"And uncanny, too."
In truth, I hardly knew whether to call it an attack at all.
Not once had the Heavenly Demon swung a sword at me, or loosed so much as a fist or a kick.
And yet everyone holding their breath across the grounds knew. Knew that the Heavenly Demon and I were locked in a duel to the death.
He never struck, and yet he pounded my body without pause; I could not loose a single blow, and yet I flashed my blade, hunting for an opening in his guard.
Anyone who walks the martial path long enough grows somewhat detached from pain, I suppose.
Thunk—
I drove the Dancheon Sword into the ground and leaned against it. That I could remain standing at all, using the blade as a staff, said as much.
"Not yet. Come at me."
Unlike my will, the edge of my voice trembled. Whether from pain or from fear, even I could not say.
It must have been a sorry sight — yet what the Heavenly Demon showed me in return was not disappointment, but curiosity.
"Fascinating. Why is it that you do not burst?"
So the Heavenly Demon spoke.
His true aim, it seemed, had never been to shatter my bones — he had been trying to make my body explode from within.
If I had to guess, it was the workings of the Yakseon Heart Decision, now arrived at the Golden Body, that had shielded me.
Not that I owed the Heavenly Demon that explanation.
"Why, I wonder?"
With eyes full of intrigue, the Heavenly Demon studied me. What looked, at a glance, like the absence of malice was in truth malice at its very apex, closing in on me.
"I must examine you a little further."
Shff.
"...Kgh."
Thud.
The Heavenly Demon's will, raking the hollow behind my right knee, finally forced me down.
Not good — but not the worst. I had still not died.
Truth be told, it was not that I had survived; it was that the Heavenly Demon had not yet let me die.
But what mattered was this: I was still resisting a death that could not be resisted.
And more important still...
"...Come at me."
My body might live because the Heavenly Demon permitted it — but my will was alive by its own strength alone.
Krrk-krrk.
I forced my rattling bones back into alignment, braced through my core, and drew myself upright. Then I raised the Dancheon Sword.
I, too, was a body that had reached the Realm. Even wounded, a flawless qi-driven form seeped out of me.
Hoo— I steadied my breath and surveyed my surroundings.
The three Harmony Realm masters who had ambushed the Heavenly Demon had yet to regain consciousness.
My father, Dancheon Gang, stood grinding his teeth, not so much as blinking. I knew why he endured so: the certainty, the resolve, that when my turn ended, his must begin.
For the Heavenly Demon, who had granted me a moment's reprieve, had finally reached his verdict.
"Still unripe."
So he said.
—Still unripe.
It resembled the words the Sovereign of Destruction, Yeom Gi-ha, had once spoken to me.
But they were worlds apart. The Sovereign's had been meant to lead me toward growth; the Heavenly Demon's were meant to lead me to death.
"Wi Su was right."
Wi Su, the Demonic Divine Conduit. Even I knew that name.
Back in my Myeong-gae days, I had once handled intelligence that he divined heaven's secrets through the art of Heaven-Reversal.
The peculiar curiosity of an information broker stirred at once: was this moment a current steered by heaven's design, or the outcome of prying that design loose? Even now my mind would not stop gathering and deducing — perhaps I was living Myeong-gae's life still.
"A pity we met only now — though I should call it fortune."
The Heavenly Demon seemed to be rating me highly indeed. I took no joy in it.
"Time to die. I shall send the rest along with you, so you need not go alone."
Because I had foreseen exactly this conclusion.
There is, so to speak, such a thing as an omen. To unleash a mighty martial art, one must condense one's qi, unfold a grand stance — sometimes manifest a burning will besides.
But perhaps, at the Heavenly Demon's level, even that had ceased to be necessary.
Softly — without the slightest stir, dozens of Gang Orbs rose beside the Heavenly Demon and began to circle him.
Gang Orbs — spheres of gang qi compressed by will. When the absolute power of gang qi is compressed still further by sheer intent, its destructive force goes without saying.
The supreme technique that not even sword qi can cut — that is the Gang Orb. Though against sword qi, at least, one might hope to deflect it by wrenching its course aside.
And the fact that they were circling him was significant in itself.
To give it a name: he had applied the art of guiding a blade with qi alone — a superlative technique surpassing even the Formless Sword — so "Gang Orbs Guided by Qi" would be the fitting title.
It was not entirely unfamiliar. I had seen the Tyrant Force Sovereign wield several Formless Swords suspended in midair, and I had witnessed the Thousand-Hand Guanyin within the Sovereign of Destruction's arts.
But even they had never added Gang Orbs to the mix.
It meant that here, against an enemy I must defeat or die, I faced a peerless technique I had never once seen.
I had to stand alone against something I could not even dream of imitating.
In truth, even conjuring a single Formless Sword still taxed me — much as my Void-Treading Step remained crude as ever. Wielding will to its fullest demands steady training over years.
Naturally, I was nowhere near suspending Formless Swords in the air and steering them with qi. Beside the Heavenly Demon, I fell far, far short.
But if I surrendered because I fell short, what kind of struggle would that be?
I had always lived a life with purpose. Put another way, I had always been at war.
Against a death that could not be resisted, I would struggle.
My death would not end as a matter concerning me alone — so I had to draw forth power beyond what I possessed.
Gooooh—
The Yakseon Heart Decision answered that will of mine, rousing the colossal strength I had built, layer upon layer.
With the Heavenly Demon's parting words—
FLASH!
The world blinked out.
The revolving lantern.
A mysterious phenomenon said to visit a soul at the moment of death. The lantern spins for only an instant, they say — and yet within it, one lives through an entire lifetime.
In truth, I had never been certain the thing actually existed. For though I had already died once, I had never once seen my life flash before my eyes.
But now I could no longer deny it.
FLASH!
The instant the Heavenly Demon loosed his colossal power, the world slowed. Within that slowed flow, my heightened senses and spirit took in everything around me.
Past the Heavenly Demon's blank expression, I watched dozens of Gang Orbs come surging like falling stars, each dragging an afterimage behind it.
My father, Dancheon Gang, had his back turned. He was not fleeing. His gaze and his steps were aimed at where the clansfolk stood — he was driving his lightness skill to its very limit because a Patriarch's duty demanded nothing less.
When the Gang Orbs had first risen around the Heavenly Demon, I had sensed a flicker of hesitation in the Patriarch: come to my son's aid, or go to save his people? His choice to go to them was right in every way.
Because I, too, was the second son of a clan bound by that same duty to protect its own.
My gaze slid sideways. I could not tell when he had come to — but my uncle Yeo Wol had his sword gripped tight and was raising a dazzling sword qi. Perhaps he had only been feigning unconsciousness, biding his time for an opening. Hardly the conduct befitting a famed orthodox-sect uncle — but against the Heavenly Demon, I would say the fault is forgiven.
In any case, Ma Sok stood at my uncle's side, blade in hand. Chun-baek still lay where he had fallen, but with those two barring the way before him, death would not claim him just yet. Those two, at least, could meet the Gang Orbs and save his life, if nothing more.
"FA-ALL-BAAACK!"
The owner of that cry, stretched as long as the slowed flow of time itself, was Dancheon Hak. He had flung himself to the very fore to shield the clan from the Heavenly Demon's assault — a sight, I would judge, wholly worthy of the Dancheon Clan's future Patriarch.
One oddity, though: fine nicks had begun to spread along the edge of the famed sword in his grip. What more is there to say?
Brother — you've reached the Harmony Realm.
Proof of the Harmony Realm, beyond any doubt. To protect his people, Dancheon Hak had at last caused his spirit to blossom — he had finally stepped beyond the wall.
Perhaps my brother's essence had lain in protection all along.
The pity was that sword qi so newly awakened would struggle to hold back the Heavenly Demon's Gang Orbs.
At last, my gaze turned forward. The Heavenly Demon's eyes, like the mouth of a bottomless pit — numbness was the only word for his countenance. Perhaps the gruesome hellscape about to unfold was, to him, nothing more than a future already written.
I had a handful of options. Rush to shield the clansfolk, as my father had. Or devote myself wholly to defense, securing my own safety while I watched for an opening to counter.
But neither was the right answer. The Heavenly Demon remained hale and whole — either choice would do no more than postpone a death already scheduled.
In truth, only one option remained to me: to kill the Heavenly Demon. Or, to be precise, to go for his life.
Kill the Heavenly Demon. Having taken him on with my own body, I knew — now, while he stood exposed after unleashing his supreme technique, might be the only chance I would ever get.
Only by killing him would I live. Only by killing him would my family survive. Only by killing him would peace return to the Jianghu.
No — I might die. This attack might even see my family, my clan, brought low. But... it might also prevent the return of that living hell: the Great Righteous-Demonic War.
So I had to kill the Heavenly Demon. Now.
Countless branching paths converged into one. What was the most powerful weapon I could bring to bear at this moment?
I could not do as he did. Guiding blades with qi was beyond me — even giving my will physical form remained difficult. And my body was wrecked from head to toe; charging in myself would be hard. Neither path was impossible. Neither was best.
My keen mind produced the answer in a flash.
The hilt in my hand felt suddenly, keenly cold.
The Dancheon Sword. The legacy of the master artisan Cheon-gong. A peerless treasure that could cut down even sword qi.
If I loaded every last thread of my will onto the Dancheon Sword and hurled it at the Heavenly Demon, it could tear through his protective gang qi and wound him. It could kill the Heavenly Demon.
KWA-GWA-GWA—
The power-laden Gang Orbs came charging at me head-on. Meet that squarely, and I would not keep my life — though fortunately, having achieved the Golden Body, perhaps I would at least leave a corpse behind.
I was probably going to die. So I had to block that attack. But I could not. Blocking it would cost me strength and time — and if I spent my strength and my seconds on defense, my Dancheon Sword would never reach the Heavenly Demon. The one chance I had ever been given would vanish.
Hoo— I abandoned my defenses.
Into the core of my being I gathered every ounce of power I had ever accumulated. Every last thread of my will I poured into the point of the Dancheon Sword. And then—
Shhk!
I loosed the Dancheon Sword. Like the first light of dawn breaking through black clouds, the Dancheon Sword flew — became light itself.
Shweee—
Perhaps the revolving lantern had reached its final turn. Time reclaimed its own pace.
I saw the Dancheon Sword streaking toward the Heavenly Demon — but alas, the Gang Orbs would reach me first.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact. Closing one's eyes in the midst of a death-duel is taboo beyond taboos — but in that moment, the taboo hardly mattered.
KWA-GWA-KWANG!
JEEE-ONG! KWA-KWANG!
KWA-ANG!
The detonations of the Gang Orbs tore through space in a chain. The world, unable to bear the shock waves, screamed.
Was I dead? ...No. If the sound of the Gang Orbs exploding still rang in my ears, did that not mean I had survived the blast?
"You rascal of a disciple — are you alive?!"
That welcome voice ringing in my ears proved that I still lived.