Chapter 28
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Poison Flying King
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“Let's head back.”
“Senior Sister?”
The Emei Sect swordswomen who had been watching the spar turned to leave one by one.
“We're just going to leave like this?”
“If he's caught the eye of the Poison Flying King, there's no chance for us anyway.”
There were a thousand questions they wanted to ask, curiosities burning inside them.
Who was Elder Qingheo?
Among the warriors representing Mount Qingcheng, the Qingcheng Five Swords were flawless in both character and skill—true prides of the sect, from the sect leader down to every disciple.
“Ghost Flash, they called him.”
The Emei Fairy shook her head.
It was a nickname that suited this mysterious new master who had bested the Qingcheng Five Swords. No rumors had ever circulated about this sudden genius before.
'I'll have even more stories to tell my junior sister when she returns.'
There were rumors of him being a wastrel playboy, but...
Calming her secretly racing heart, the Emei Fairy turned away from the sacred grounds with an unchanging composure, her complexion steady as ever.
“Senior...”
It was right after the Emei swordswomen had vanished.
“Sorcery!”
“Skill.”
One of Qingcheng's second-generation lay disciples flipped his eyes in rage and charged.
Toward Seo Mun-ha, who had just finished his spar, stepping in for the dazed Unjeong.
This time, his actions backed his words. He launched a bold ambush with a deadly strike worthy of praise.
Clang—!
And immediately rolled across the ground.
Unlike his momentum, the man clutched his wrist, shoulders hunched in defeat.
“Urk!”
Both were weary in body and mind, in need of recovery. Attempting an attack with his unfamiliar left-hand sword on top of his shallow cultivation—it was a truly reckless endeavor.
Step.
Seo Mun-ha took one step closer to him.
“A lay disciple, were you?”
Right in front of the man's twisted face, gripped by agony as he nursed his left hand.
“For the sake of your martial uncle's face, I'll let it slide just this once.”
The man shuddered violently—he, who had committed such an un-Taoist act.
“But there won't be a second time.”
“......”
“I won't stop you, but don't think it'll be an easy death.”
Torture wasn't a hobby of Seo Mun-ha's, but he had his expertise.
Cut out the tongue, sever the meridians in the limbs. Nothing broke a person's will faster than unrelenting torment that denied any adaptation.
Slice the flesh, tear the muscles, shave the bones. Starting from the fingertips, inch by inch. Slowly creeping toward the heart, even the proudest crumbled in no time.
“Even the tough ones give up before all four limbs are gone.”
The time from spare me to kill me.
Seo Mun-ha recited the process with a subtle smile.
The man's face drained to a sickly blue by contrast.
“Just hearing it is unpleasant. Seeing it is worse. Experiencing it firsthand... even more so.”
Then, with a reverse grip, his sword lightly pricked the man's thigh.
“Aaaargh!”
“Your joke has a vicious edge to it.”
Unjeong, finally regaining his wits in place of the flailing man, offered his respects.
“You fool! Have some shame!”
Next, he berated him like slapping a crying child.
“You're smearing filth on Qingcheng's name!”
“Martial Uncle... I...”
The lay disciple was at a loss before his martial uncle's fury, a face he'd never seen in such wrath.
“Be grateful for Young Master Seo Mun's magnanimity. When we return to the sect, I'll hold you accountable for this too.”
The Taoist's true self had returned. An upright, honest Taoist stood there.
“We've shown you an unsightly display, young master.”
He bowed to Seo Mun-ha once more in respect.
“Forgive the belated words, but I concede. Completely.”
“It was an honor to witness Qingcheng's sword.”
“Today, I've gained much insight. My master's words finally make sense: 'You must not limit yourself to Qingcheng's skies.'”
Unjeong, seasoned as a martial artist, had recalled a long-forgotten truth.
“Thank you for overlooking my junior's foolish mistake with your broad mercy. If fate allows another chance, I'd love to cross hands with you properly.”
Seo Mun-ha nodded.
One often gains more from defeat than victory.
Unjeong looked refreshed now, and Qingcheng's name wouldn't fade anytime soon.
A Taoist who had won against those worthy of victory and lost to those worthy of defeat.
Unjeong, burying the scars of war, had gained precious experience by losing to one worthy of victory.
'Know yourself and your enemy.'
He, who had only honed himself without regard for others, had shed a layer of shell.
'Perhaps I was arrogant in the realm of four profundities.'
Muttering to Seo Mun-ha's departing back.
“Next time, I'd like to repay the favor you granted me.”
The day changed, and so did the location.
In the chill weather, the Wuleng Retreat felt even more desolate, leaving only a lonely pavilion behind.
Clack.
“General.”
Seo Mun-ha drove in a casual wedge.
“......Just one more handicap.”
The one who had stabbed a dagger into his chest and twisted it was none other than the Poison Flying King, Tang Cheol-son.
“That's already the ninth one.”
“Perfect. Why not make it a full ten?”
“Isn't that a bit too shameless?”
“Heavens, man. Shameless? Am I not asking most politely?”
For someone begging, his expression was awfully coercive.
The pavilion brimmed with his intent and fighting spirit. Just his aura alone would choke an ordinary person.
“Sigh... Fine.”
Seo Mun-ha let out a deep sigh.
Only then did the pressure lift, but he shook his head in annoyance anyway.
Pressure aside, as the old man himself said, he'd already given nine handicaps.
In this game alone.
Across their matches so far, Seo Mun-ha had yielded dozens of moves, turning their encounters into a drawn-out chess marathon.
'I said I'd hold you accountable.'
The old monster was unpredictable, as old monsters are.
Even as Yi Mok-yeom in his past life, he wouldn't have been easy prey. Being dragged along against his will left Seo Mun-ha with a rare sour taste.
Sour, or rather, exhausting.
“Thanks to you, Qingcheng's sword will sharpen even further.”
Tang Cheol-son added as he moved a piece.
Clack.
“Was that your intent?”
They'd only met twice.
Yet amid their games, honorifics had naturally shifted like flowing water, and Tang Cheol-son now showed a degree of familiarity.
“Who knows. I was just desperate to win.”
“Hah! Think my eyes are mere ornaments?”
Not a knothole—fess up, the old man pressed.
“How did you sweet-talk that old coot, anyway? You're dodging all the important questions.”
“Sweet-talk? I merely made a polite request. Just like someone else.”
Though weary, Seo Mun-ha countered the old monster with unflagging leisure.
“Unless you're a god, how can a mere mortal bend heaven and earth, or twist people to their will... General?”
The chess pieces, tightening like a noose, ensnared Tang Cheol-son.
“All a man can do is hope and expect. Prepare for missteps, strive to leave no regrets. That's it, whatever the matter.”
An unexpected spar, but forging ties with one of the Nine Great Sects was no loss. Indirectly repaying a debt fit the same vein.
“Just one more handicap...”
“No.”
Seo Mun-ha refused flatly.
“Y-You're so heartless!”
“Eleven becomes twelve, and before you know it, twenty.”
“Khm.”
Cornered, Tang Cheol-son groaned. No retreat left on the small board.
“Then just one more game...”
“No.”
“I'm begging you! Politely!”
Thud. The air grew heavy.
Seo Mun-ha, now accustomed, ignored it and rose to leave.
“We've played thirty-four games. Haven't I fulfilled my duty?”
From the standpoint of responsibility Tang Cheol-son preached.
“Fulfilled? Didn't you steal away my only worthy chess opponent? So this is this, and that is...”
“Sophistry. You enjoyed it too, didn't you?”
“That's that, and this is...”
“Qingcheng and Emei will lie low for a while. Blocking their advance into the sacred city is a huge gain for the Tang Clan alone.”
Seo Mun-ha, meeting Tang Cheol-son for the second time.
“This, that, whatever—I've done my part.”
He'd learned the old man's identity beforehand and now washed his hands clean, leaving the persistence behind.
“You...”
Purely on his own terms. Tang Cheol-son clung stubbornly to his ankle.
“How about meeting my granddaughter sometime?”
A shift in topic. His grave tone held none of the prior playfulness.
“I hate to boast, but she's a fine girl. You've probably heard of her!”
“Too much exaggeration.”
Seo Mun-ha had a fiancée.
“What?!”
Perfect excuse for refusal, yet common sense didn't apply to this old man.
“Are you saying my granddaughter doesn't please you?!”
“Quite the opposite.”
Tang Cheol-son's granddaughter bore many titles.
Famed as the Sichuan Rakshasa and one of the Sichuan Twin Flowers, but known widest as one of the Nine Dragons and Seven Phoenixes: Poison Phoenix, Thousand Poisons Prodigy.
“Compared to a phoenix who wields a thousand poisons, I'm just a worthless swordsman.”
“Hmph, all the 'worthless swordsmen' are dead. Who'd believe one toppled the Qingcheng Five Swords?”
Not even peers his age reached that level...
Swallowing the rest, Tang Cheol-son followed him.
“What is it you want from me, Elder?”
Brushing aside the burdensome attention, Seo Mun-ha cut to the chase.
Chasing leisure in old age wasn't odd, but he wasn't your average elder—his title Poison Flying King attested to that.
“Follow me.”
Tsking his tongue, Tang Cheol-son overtook Seo Mun-ha.
“At my age, one grows detached from worldly affairs. Nothing surprises me much anymore.”
Finding a secluded clearing backed by a sheer cliff, exactly as desired.
“Age aside, no one's shocked me like you in my entire life.”
Not a blade of grass grew on the barren soil. The three-sided enclosure bore artificial marks of nature: the perimeter pitted and slashed like sword scars, sharp with lingering sword intent.
“Not bad, eh? My secret spot. Only my foolish daughter knows besides me.”
Seo Mun-ha scratched his head. He had no desire to share secrets with Tang Cheol-son, but the man's demeanor was too earnest to nitpick.
“She's the same.”
Bending down, Tang Cheol-son picked up a small twig and fiddled with it in his wrinkled hands.
“I've seen countless so-called geniuses. Some with superior bones and meridians, others with sharp minds. Rarely both, but not never.”
The next generation to lead the martial world. The Nine Dragons and Seven Phoenixes naturally excelled in both.
“Elixirs, masters, arts... If geniuses don't emerge in such environments, that'd be the surprise.”
Even those geniuses hadn't astonished Tang Cheol-son like Seo Mun-ha.
“Superior bones or minds earn the genius label. But true genius? It's sensibility that divides the mundane from the prodigy.”
“I'm not sure I follow...”
“Playing dumb? In other words, instinct. The sense to read the flow of all creation and find the truth.”
Tang Cheol-son solemnly stroked his beard.
“The world's 'geniuses' struggle because their minds lag their bodies. Enlightenment varies by person; fewer than half surpass their personal walls repeatedly. In truth, two become one, three become one—but at your age, your body failing to keep pace with your mind is rare.”
With that, he hurled the twig at the cliff face.
Thunk.
It should've crumbled weakly. Instead, it buried deep into the rock, formless.
“Your martial skill is at the Three Profundities, but your mind eyes the Middle Realm already. Perhaps even the Apex.”
Yang Jeong blinked silently, presence undetectable, not uttering a word.
'What the hell is this nonsense?'
Staring wordlessly at the two.
“Anyway, long preamble.”
Tang Cheol-son grinned.
“I want to borrow your instinct—worthy as it is.”
Seo Mun-ha's first impression had been intriguing, nothing more.
A fun opponent in old age. But expecting real help stemmed squarely from the spar with Elder Qingheo.
“Are you gilding me or burdening me, Elder?”
Seo Mun-ha sighed again.
He didn't know, but nailed it: I'm not that impressive.
“Think what you like.”
Excessive humility is pride, but it's a virtue across faiths.
“Just tell me your feeling. That's enough.”
The Poison Flying King took a deep breath and unleashed a stance befitting his fame.
Whoosh.
He gathered his robe and turned, eyeing Seo Mun-ha expectantly.
Short and potent, unlike the lengthy buildup.
Then, raindrops from a clear sky.
Shooo—!
A beat later, flower petals poured, filling Seo Mun-ha's vision.
“The Tang Clan's ultimate technique: Full Sky Flower Rain.”