Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Green Forest Bandit Chief Gu Ja-seong - [3]
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Absorbing the energy of the spirit medicine, Heo Pung-gae pondered Emperor Wanli. He also thought about Moon Woman, the greatest master he knew of.
The nation's coffers had been converted into spirit medicines that now coursed through their bodies.
Heo Pung-gae could never dream of consuming as many spirit medicines as they had. Considering how much more expensive they were now than in ancient times—and how picky he already was about what he took in—it was utterly impossible.
But wasn't the Korean martial world in greater need of masters like him than ever before? This could be his chance to finally partake in those precious elixirs he could never afford to touch.
And if their effects turned out to be even more potent than expected...
Lurking in the back of his mind might be the self-proclaimed Heavenly Demon's offer.
Even now, after clashing with her in battle, the lingering obsession she had left behind still hadn't faded.
What had she promised Gu Ja-seong? Extended lifespan?
Could it be a way to live past 130 years...?
To shake off these stray thoughts, he focused his mind. Heo Pung-gae slowly spread the medicine's qi throughout his body.
First, he channeled it into his three dantians, and sure enough, it was no ordinary elixir. In an instant, all three dantians brimmed with qi.
Yet there was still plenty left to distribute.
Heo Pung-gae turned his intent toward the lightning dwelling within him.
He infused qi there too, nurturing the lightning that was his personal spirit god...
The lightning, having absorbed even more qi, grew noticeably larger. Its energy crackled with intense power.
Lightning struck down in the space within his mind. Kwarung!
Something formed where the bolt had landed in his mind.
Something gleaming silver. What on earth was it?
Concentrating his spirit, he looked closer. It was a sword.
A sword?
Realizing this, Heo Pung-gae's eyes snapped wide open.
His meditation broke. He panted for a while, then closed his eyes again and sank back into his inner world. He gazed at his mindscape once more.
He hadn't been mistaken.
A single sword was embedded within him. It resembled lightning made manifest, still flickering silver in the darkness.
For some reason, it felt familiar. Like a sword he'd seen somewhere before.
Pondering a bit longer, Heo Pung-gae suddenly recoiled even more in shock. His eyes bulged wide.
He knew two swords of exactly that length and shape.
They belonged to his wife and master.
She had left one of them to him.
Even with a cold compress, her fever wouldn't break.
Heo Pung-gae gripped her hand. It was scorching hot, terribly so. He felt like he might burn too from the heat. But that might bring relief, so he didn't let go.
As she lay dying, she spoke.
"Burn my body to ash and scatter it. For my grave... just bury my sword."
Heo Pung-gae couldn't bring himself to say he'd do it. Forcing a smile, she continued.
"Don't cry. This isn't dying."
"Then...?"
"It's corpse liberation. You've learned what that is, my disciple, right?"
"I... have."
Corpse liberation was one way for Daoist cultivators to ascend to immortality—faking death to depart the mortal world, with only the soul ascending to the immortal realm.
Even then, Heo Pung-gae hadn't truly believed in the concept. He saw it as just a ploy by Taoists to mystify their own deaths.
"Then you get it? The body collapsing is just... shedding its shell. Like molting."
What kind of shell gives birth to a kid and then sheds? If you're set on leaving, can't you at least raise the kid a bit first?
"After corpse liberation, the body must vanish. So burn it to nothing..."
Heo Pung-gae had so much he wanted to say, but only choked sobs escaped his lips.
She kept speaking alone.
"Just put the sword in my grave. You know which one."
Of course he did. The paired swords they'd commissioned at great expense when they came down from the mountain to marry—divided between them along with their rings.
"The other one..."
Only then could Heo Pung-gae form proper words.
"I'll keep it. Forever."
"No need for forever. Just until you..."
And then she died.
Heo Pung-gae fulfilled her wish: he burned her body to bones and scattered the ashes to the wind. He placed only her sword in the coffin and buried it.
There wasn't time or leisure to grieve her death for long. Only after sending off their child too could he dwell on it at length.
And the fear of death lingered. The sword she'd given him remained by his side.
Heo Pung-gae retrieved the sword from the safe.
It was the Taiji Sword his wife had left behind. He rarely took it out. He didn't even want to touch it.
Ever since that day, swords symbolized death to him.
The opponent's death, or his own. A sword was a lethal weapon for killing others, but also the tool for one's own end.
Just as when burying her, immortals' graves often held swords instead of remains—a practice called sword liberation, a variant of corpse liberation favored by Daoist cultivators.
Daoism imbued swords with sacred meaning, but to Heo Pung-gae, they were simply ominous. Swords used for murder were horrific tools, funerals were horrific events, so funeral tools were horrific too.
Whether killing foes or used in one's rites, a sword was just terrifying.
That's why he'd never used the Taiji Swordsmanship she'd taught him, nor the Taiji Sword she'd left.
The sword arts he'd learned were only demonstrated once long ago for instructional purposes—he'd never used them in actual combat. He couldn't even imagine thrusting it into someone.
Instead, he'd stuck to Taijiquan, learned alongside it. When bare hands couldn't match foes armed with proper weapons, he'd abruptly picked up Flicking Finger Skill.
And now, an image of a sword like that one had formed in his mind. What was going on?
He decided to check if the sword in his inner world matched the one before him.
It did.
With half-closed eyes, comparing the manifested sword in his mind to the real one—they overlapped perfectly. The 95cm length, the ornament at the hilt's end, everything.
Heo Pung-gae couldn't comprehend this phenomenon at all.
Why had this sword taken root in his mind? Martial cultivation didn't explain it—he hadn't swung a sword in about a century. So was this not a product of training, but a heart demon born to hinder his practice?
Yet the gleaming sword felt ominous, but not particularly malevolent.
Whatever it was, he decided to try moving it first.
When he nudged the inner sword, the real sword overlapping it moved too.
Heo Pung-gae was so startled he froze, unable to act. He just blinked and thought.
Where had he seen such harmony before?
The bandits' declaration of secession shocked the entire Martial Alliance, but they weren't about to sit idly by.
Losing the Green Forest Bandits was bad enough. But if other sects followed their example? The Alliance would be finished.
The Alliance elders equated the organization's survival with the Korean martial world's very existence, so they launched a holy war for it.
When starting a war, striking first is best. The Martial Alliance followed this wisdom to the letter.
"Kill the bandit scum!"
Martial sects from across the land gathered forces and attacked nearby bandit strongholds.
It was a surprise attack, but not hard to anticipate. The bandits had prepared, turning battles in each region into fierce, evenly matched struggles rather than one-sided slaughters.
Martial artists no longer wielded wooden swords. Sharpened blades and hand axes clashed, sparking flames.
Then a gun barrel spat fire.
With a bang, a bandit who had honed axemanship for decades crumpled.
The bandits had trigger fingers too. A burst of tududududu rang out, felling five on the other side in succession.
That night, villagers near the mountains trembled at the gunfire echoing from the hills.
The authorities hadn't stirred yet. Local police chiefs' bank accounts had just gained a zero or two.
Heo Pung-gae didn't even want to look at the sword his wife had given him. It brought melancholy. But he couldn't bear to discard or let her keepsake rot, so he occasionally took it out just to keep the rust at bay.
While imprisoned, he'd entrusted it to Yi Pung for safekeeping.
Yi Pung had cared for it diligently. Not a speck of dust on the inscribed blade, the edge oiled with camellia and gleaming.
With a single swing of the pristine sword, brilliant light flashed through the air.
He hadn't gripped the hilt himself.
Heo Pung-gae focused his intent on the sword in his mind, sliding it sideways—and the real sword followed.
Pulling the inner sword upward lifted the real one floating into the air.
No matter how much he loathed and feared the sword, he couldn't ignore this synchronization. He hadn't swung a blade in nearly a century, so mimicking proper swordsmanship was tough. Controlling this sword freely was terrifyingly difficult too. But with practice, maybe...
He was deep in concentration, maneuvering the sword, when the door opened silently. So absorbed was he that Heo Pung-gae noticed a beat late.
Yi Pung entered the room. Guessing his brother might still be meditating, he spoke as softly as possible.
"Brother? Time to fully digest the medicine soon—why haven't you come out? Something wrong...?"
Yi Pung's eyes caught the sword swishing through empty air.
"Wha—what? That!"
Heo Pung-gae twitched an eyebrow.
"You?"
"Sword control with qi? The famous technique Lady Moon used... You didn't tie a string to it, did you?"
Heo Pung-gae frowned in reply.
"No."
"Then it's moving on its own? That's sword control with qi, right?"
"So?"
"Why are you using it?"
"Don't know, man."
"You who only does punches and flicks—why the hell...?"
"Told you, I don't know."
Yi Pung muttered questions to himself, pondered alone, then seemed to realize something on his own. His eyes widened, and he grinned brightly.
"Wait—didn't you say you trained Lady Moon? Same sect, so same techniques? Does that mean you know her swordsmanship too?"
Heo Pung-gae started to deny their connection but gave up. It was already out.
"Yeah."
Yi Pung stood blankly for a moment. Then he suddenly shouted.
"Whoa, fuck."
"Quiet down, you punk."
"Whoa, fuck!"