The Measure of Strength
Martial power is a concept that is at once tangible and abstract.
It clearly exists, yet it is difficult to measure or quantify with any precision. One might even say it resists standardization altogether.
On this point, I remember learning a great deal from Chwipung-gae.
"Dancheon Myeong."
"Ah. Call me Myeong-gae, please."
"Right. Myeong-gae, then."
"Yes."
"If the Iron Sword Scholar fought the Lone Wolf Wanderer, who would win?"
The Iron Sword Scholar was a peak-realm master who had made his name in Hebei long ago, while the Lone Wolf Wanderer was a first-rate swordsman of rising renown in recent years.
So my answer came without hesitation.
"The Iron Sword Scholar, obviously."
"I'm a three-knot beggar myself now. I'd know the masters around these parts, wouldn't I?"
Chwipung-gae nodded and posed another question.
"Then what if the Iron Sword Scholar were wounded and the Wanderer at full strength?"
"Hmm. The Scholar still?"
"He's wounded, isn't he? He couldn't even wield his sword qi properly."
"Fair enough. The Wanderer would win, then?"
"A first-rate beating a peak master?"
"……"
The old beggar's mischievous grin was infuriating.
"So what's the answer?"
"How should I know?"
"What?"
"You only find out by fighting. What would I know?"
"Isn't that cheating?"
"Got a complaint?"
"No."
Chwipung-gae was a mischievous old beggar, true, but I knew he was not a man who asked pointless questions.
Thanks to his profound teachings, I had become the finished three-knot beggar Myeong-gae — there was no way I could miss what he was getting at.
"Then why ask me all of a sudden?"
"I'm telling you that even if you've entered the peak realm, if you can't maintain your full strength, the first-rate bastards could still take your head."
"That's true enough."
A beggar elder was, in the end, a martial artist living in the jianghu as well, so it was only right to carve his teachings into my bones.
"Besides, there's something else you ought to know."
"And what would that be?"
"How much do you know about elemental affinities?"
"Nothing."
"Aigoo."
Chwipung-gae sighed, but I felt no shame.
Not knowing something because you haven't learned it is nothing to be ashamed of.
Isn't it far more shameful to have learned something and still not know it — or to have no intention of learning it at all?
"Then teach me, please."
Perhaps my brazen attitude struck him as absurd, because Chwipung-gae snorted and went on.
"There's an old tale of the Three Knots Under Heaven."
The Three Knots Under Heaven — so it was said — referred to three martial artists from Mount Hua, Zhongnan, and the Paeng Clan who had torn down the walls between sects and sworn brotherhood as intimate friends.
"The Mount Hua Sword Knot could never defeat the Zhongnan Sword Immortal."
The Mount Hua sword, distilled into swiftness, illusion, and variation, bewildered its opponents and sought out their openings. Its subtlety was said to touch the very pinnacle of the jianghu.
But against the Zhongnan sword, which prided itself on ultimate defense by covering all thirty-six directions, the Mount Hua sword's brilliance struggled to find purchase. The Zhongnan master, who had perfected the Thirty-Six Sword Arts upon the foundation of the Six Harmonies, was said to hold the elemental advantage over the Mount Hua master, who had mastered the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Arts.
"Yet the Paeng Clan Blade Master defeated the Zhongnan Sword Immortal with ease."
Since ancient times, the Paeng Clan of Hebei had been called the symbol of dragon strength. And the essence of that dragon strength was the Paeng Clan's secret technique, the Five Tigers Gate-Breaking Blade.
To put it plainly, the Five Tigers Gate-Breaking Blade had a natural tendency to dismantle the Thirty-Six Sword Arts. No matter how thoroughly the Zhongnan sword covered every direction, dragon strength simply smashed through it all.
"But the Paeng Clan Blade Master could not withstand the Mount Hua Sword Knot."
The blade master's art tended to be outmaneuvered by the Mount Hua swordsman who had mastered the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Arts. With variation, illusion, and swiftness churning the very space around them, the Five Tigers Blade never even had the chance to unleash its dragon strength.
"A question, then. Of the three, who is strongest?"
"Hmm."
"Don't know?"
Chwipung-gae asked with a sly grin.
But who was I? Was I not Myeong-gae?
I was hardly so dim-witted as to be stumped by the same trick twice, and the answer came easily.
"It depends on the opponent. The correct conclusion is that martial arts are relative and mutable. And isn't that precisely what an elemental affinity is?"
"You're right."
Chwipung-gae conceded the point with a somewhat sour expression.
My guess was that he had failed to needle me and have his fun.
"A proper information broker needs to know a great deal. Don't slack on your studies."
"Yes, sir."
Chwipung-gae's teaching was, as ever, sound.
One could not say that 'the higher the realm, the stronger the fighter' was wrong — but neither was it an absolute truth.
How fully one maintained one's strength, or what affinities were at play, could also meaningfully tip the scales of a decisive clash.
In the end, it meant that you only know whether a rope is long or short by measuring them against each other. And the closer the lengths, the truer it becomes.
"Klklkl. The young one is quite something after all. I see why you stepped forward so confidently."
The sneering smile of the Eumhyeol Sinma filled my vision.
The Divine Demons of the Demonic Cult were, as a rule, those who had ascended to the Transcendent Demon Realm — or, in Central Plains terms, the Profound Realm.
In the mighty Heavenly Demon Cult, one who could not even cross into the Extreme Demon Realm could hardly claim the supreme rank of Divine Demon.
And my own realm, having entered the Fifth Great Pill, was also, in a word, the Profound Realm.
We stood in similar territory — which meant that only by truly crossing blades could we learn whose thread of life was longer.
"We'll see, then."
"See what?"
"Whose lifeline is the longer."
In the jianghu, the process of measuring that length is usually called a duel to the death.
Am I the stronger?
Or is the Eumhyeol Sinma?
Whose martial power holds the advantage?
Upon that seemingly trivial question, my very life now hung.
"You intend to face me alone?"
"That I do."
At my answer, the Eumhyeol Sinma put on a look of mild surprise.
I understood why.
By his age, and by the air he carried, he had likely assumed Chwipung-gae was his opponent.
In any case, hearing my answer, the Eumhyeol Sinma smiled darkly.
Reading his heart a little, I'd say he figured the order hardly mattered — he intended to kill us all regardless.
"The young one is rushing to his grave."
"I'll outlive you, old man, so save your worrying."
At my words, the Eumhyeol Sinma's expression turned oily.
I knew that sort of temperament well.
One who had always reigned supreme, crushing those beneath him, would have no immunity to backtalk.
"The young one has no respect for his elders, I see."
"Instead of preening about your age, why not retire with grace for the sake of the rising young talents?"
I said it calmly, but it was more than enough to provoke him.
"I'll have to kill you."
"Think you can?"
I didn't forget to flash him a fresh, easy smile. In arguments like this, the one who can genuinely laugh is usually the one who wins.
A crack ran through the Eumhyeol Sinma's oily expression — a satisfying exchange.
I seemed to have won the skirmish, but it hardly mattered.
A duel to the death is not settled with words.
Truthfully, I was tense.
If I searched for a reason, it was that even Cheolsanmagun had been no easy opponent for me.
I lacked experience in death-duels against masters who had fully reached the Transcendent Demon Realm, which made them difficult to gauge.
My confrontation with the Heavenly Demon had been resistance and desperation more than a true battle, so it could hardly serve as a reliable sample.
Grrrk—
Calling up what experience I did have, I steadied my mind with the memory of Cheolsanmagun.
I had been certain I would prevail, but he had been an opponent I could never afford to underestimate.
Which meant he, too, had possessed the capacity to kill me.
If even a Demon Lord could not be taken lightly within the Heavenly Demon Cult, underestimating a Divine Demon was out of the question.
In other words, from this moment on, I would have to fight with my life on the line.
And with my life on the line, perhaps this degree of tension was exactly what I needed.
—Shall I help?
—I'm fine.
I had refused the help of the Paehwang, Yeom Gi-ha.
—You mean that?
—Would you have me remain a hothouse flower?
—Aren't you already a flower in full bloom?
—Not yet.
—Hm. Greedy fellow, aren't you.
Refusing the man who could solve anything had not been out of pride or recklessness.
It was because I wished to grow on my own.
—The Yakseon Heart Decision is a martial art that seeks ascension through the pursuit of the Dao. It stands in direct opposition to the corrupted, and thus it can become their natural nemesis.
At the same time, it was trust in Yakseon himself.
It might not match the Buddhist Demon-Destroying Art of Shaolin, but the Yakseon Heart Decision likewise held a great elemental advantage over the myriad demonic arts.
Yakseon had said that the more corrupted the opponent, the more brilliantly the Yakseon Heart Decision would shine.
And against sinister arts like those of the Eumhyeol Goru family, it would surely manifest its finest power.
"Hoo—"
A deep breath released the tension.
I must not be nervous over a mere Eumhyeol Sinma.
—A pleasure. I am Seol Cheon-sang, the Heavenly Demon of this age.
My ultimate goal was not some Divine Demon, but the Heavenly Demon himself.
To face that chilling, absolute presence, I would have to become bolder than I was now.
"I'll kill you. Painfully, if you'd prefer."
Vmmm—
As the Eumhyeol Sinma murmured those dreadful words, a crimson aura began to shimmer around his hands.
A palm force resembling fresh blood.
In other words, the Blood-Jade Gang Qi — one of the signature arts of the Eumhyeol Sinma.
"Do it, if you can."
Vmmm—
As if in answer, five star-like motes of energy began to swirl around the Dancheon Sword in my grip.
My sword qi was manifesting far more fiercely than usual.
Because I knew — the blood-jade hue clinging to that palm force was a color stolen from the vital blood of others.
Swish.
CLANG—!
The collision of gang qi erupted without the slightest warning.
Such is the way of masters who have reached the transcendent stage — their exchanges are decided in the space of an instant.
"Oh?"
When his attack was stopped, the Eumhyeol Sinma showed a flicker of surprise.
Since I had revealed nothing but sword qi, he must have taken me for a mere Harmony Realm master.
But through that first exchange, he had now realized I was no ordinary Harmony Realm master.
Realizing this, the Eumhyeol Sinma tried to create distance — a hopeless effort.
He had closed the gap himself, and this was my chance.
In battles between transcendent masters, nothing is a graver mistake than misjudging your opponent's strength.
Slash!
CLANG!
Whish— Sreeek!
CHING—!
"Kgh."
The Eumhyeol Sinma finally managed to block my relentless slashes.
He was no easy opponent, after all.
Tang!
Seizing the opening he found while parrying, the Eumhyeol Sinma leapt back to widen the distance.
"……Did you achieve Youthful Reversion or something?"
"You're the one who only reached your realm at that age. The deficiency is yours."
This was different from before, and true composure settled over me at last.
Because now I was certain my sword would reach the Eumhyeol Sinma.
Trickle—
Blood seeped from the back of the Eumhyeol Sinma's hand, where he had failed to fully block a slash carrying my sword qi.
Faint, but my sword qi had pierced his blood-jade barrier.
"Ah, what a waste."
So saying, the Eumhyeol Sinma licked the blood welling from the back of his own hand.
"That's a sight I didn't need."
Watching a grim-faced old man lick the back of his hand with an expression of rapture, sincerity spilled naturally from my mouth.
Whatever scrap of elder-respect I might have had vanished in an instant.
"Mmmh—"
Regardless of my reaction, the Eumhyeol Sinma's face was faintly flushed.
His blood-drinking, it seemed, made no distinction between his own blood and another's.
"You — now that I look at you, you smell delicious."
"And you smell like something rotting, old man."
My tone was still the kind to grate on his nerves, but the Eumhyeol Sinma paid it no mind.
Instead, the light in his eyes as he looked at me only brightened.
A familiar look.
I remembered reading that same emotion many times in the eyes of beggars gazing at a lavish feast.
"If I eat you, I could become the greatest of the Divine Demons."
"That's rather excessive ambition, old man."
"Klkl. Whether it's ambition or truth, we'll find out soon enough."
With those words, the Eumhyeol Sinma's gang qi began to churn.
As that sinister, surging energy resonated with the world itself, for an instant it seemed as if the whole world had been dyed crimson.
It was no mere illusion — a bloody mist began to claim the surroundings.
I didn't know the name or mechanism of the art, but I knew it was the supreme technique the Eumhyeol Sinma possessed.
"That's your finest art, old man?"
I asked, tightening my grip on the Dancheon Sword.
"What do you think?"
"Worse than I expected."
"Kilkil. Then die to something worse than you expected."
The probing phase was over.
Which meant the true, ferocious duel to the death was about to begin.
"Shut up and come at me, then."
And yet, I found myself thinking it would not be so very difficult.
Whether I had grown stronger in the meantime, or the Eumhyeol Sinma was weaker than I'd thought, I couldn't say.
But the certainty of victory had settled into my grip.
Subduing an enemy is harder than simply killing him — but for the me of this moment, it would not be much of a challenge at all.