Chapter 135
Chapter 135
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 135
Chapter Title: Demonic Cult
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As Three-Eyed's fist cleaved through the empty air, the Grand Law Protector drew his sword and deflected it.
Human flesh met sharpened steel, yet the Grand Law Protector's blade failed to leave any meaningful wound on Three-Eyed's fist.
Of course, Three-Eyed's skin tore and blood flowed. But to the Grand Law Protector and Three-Eyed, that was no injury at all.
Three-Eyed's assault flowed onward like water.
It was an attack that never considered the possibility of the opponent blocking it head-on. Countering Three-Eyed's power with power alone was nearly impossible, even among those who had reached the absolute peak.
Boom—
Three-Eyed's fist smashed into the ground, and with a heavy thud, the house floor caved in.
Three-Eyed was now over seventy years old. Yet his body had never weakened since birth—it had only grown stronger.
He had been overwhelmed by superior martial depth in the past, but never once had his physical strength fallen short. Nor would it in the future.
Three-Eyed swung his fists in rapid succession. The Grand Law Protector, deflecting the attacks from an awkward stance, sprang back to create distance.
Only then did Three-Eyed growl and demand answers.
"Was it you who brought in that damn bird?"
"You seemed to live alone without subordinates, yet you're sharp when it comes to such matters."
"Planning to steal the martial arts passed down to the Cult Leader?"
"Martial arts the master has no intention of learning and no ability to learn—anyone has the right to study them."
"You filthy cur!"
Three-Eyed assumed a slanted stance, then propelled himself forward with light steps, swinging his fist.
Six Harmonies Fist. A famous fist art of Shaolin Temple. The follow-up fist technique was equally well-known. Arhat Fist.
Though Six Harmonies Fist and Arhat Fist were Shaolin arts, they were not advanced techniques.
Six Harmonies Fist formed the foundation of Shaolin fist methods, while Arhat Fist was an intermediate fist form taught to young monks who had mastered it. Only after fully grasping both could one be called a martial monk.
That was precisely why martial monks who reached first-rate level rarely used Six Harmonies Fist or Arhat Fist. Shaolin possessed an immeasurable wealth of martial arts, and talented monks had countless techniques to learn—there was no reason to cling to basics.
Yet in his youth, the only arts Three-Eyed could steal without suspicion were the most common ones: Six Harmonies Fist and Arhat Fist.
Today, Six Harmonies Fist. Tomorrow, Arhat Fist. The next day, back to Six Harmonies Fist. Anything beyond was too hard to spy on, too complex to memorize from sight.
Thus, Three-Eyed had never mastered intricate techniques requiring finesse, like Golden Lock Hands.
Instead, he endlessly refined the foundational arts others trained in for two or three years before moving on.
He once yearned to learn advanced techniques. But as time passed, Three-Eyed realized that it was not the arts themselves, but the practitioner's prowess that mattered.
Three-Eyed trained without end, and now he could unleash incomprehensible might through Six Harmonies Fist.
Even its creator could never have imagined Six Harmonies Fist harboring such power.
And Bodhidharma's own Six Harmonies Fist paled against his. That was Three-Eyed's pride.
Each time his fist sliced the air, a explosive roar echoed as if something had burst.
The Grand Law Protector repeatedly deflected and dodged Three-Eyed's forms by a hair's breadth. Powerful strikes, yet not a single effective hit had landed. A mere inch of gap. That distance refused to close easily.
"Tricks!"
A sharp impatience flared in Three-Eyed's chest. His own martial arts were rare equals in the world, yet the Grand Law Protector clearly surpassed him.
The slight difference wouldn't show in one or two exchanges.
Like two parallel rods that seemed aligned but twisted ever so slightly, the initial tiny gap grew harder to bridge the longer the fight dragged on.
The accumulating disparity became dominance, and before long, the superior crushed the inferior in prolonged combat. Worse still, Three-Eyed was no master of drawn-out fights.
In the end, Three-Eyed made his choice.
'Luck or not, if it lands once, it's over.'
The problem was that neither Six Harmonies Fist nor Arhat Fist could touch the Grand Law Protector.
So, what form must he unleash now?
The answer was set. Among the Shaolin arts he had stolen, the sole advanced technique worthy of the name.
Long ago, in his childhood, the form of Shaolin's abbot that Three-Eyed had spied on at the risk of his life.
A motion so vivid he could see it in dreams, yet only three years ago had Three-Eyed finally comprehended and replicated it.
It had taken nearly fifty years.
For one denied systematic martial training, leaping straight to an advanced art meant traversing such a distant path.
"Take this too!"
Three-Eyed lowered his stance and leaned forward as if about to topple.
In truth, his massive frame was toppling forward. The form demanded such precarious balance. Otherwise, even his huge body would rebound backward.
His arms, pulled back taut, swelled as if about to burst.
And in the next instant, both arms thrust fully forward. The motion of the drawn-back arms extending went unseen.
Arhat Divine Fist.
A colossal wave of energy engulfed the Grand Law Protector. Worse, the enclosed space left no room to escape. Three-Eyed was certain. It had landed.
But the next moment, something bizarre occurred. As the Grand Law Protector wildly flailed his arms, the massive energy of Arhat Divine Fist veered off course and boomeranged back at Three-Eyed.
Three-Eyed hurriedly crouched, but couldn't fully evade. Beneath his crossed arms, immense force battered his abdomen and lower body.
"Urk!"
Such was Arhat Divine Fist's might—even Three-Eyed's steel-like body couldn't block it perfectly. Spitting blood, he demanded,
"What was that just now?"
"A martial art transmitted from distant Persia in the West. They call it Heaven-Earth Great Nailed Rake."
An art he had never heard of.
But if from the West, it must be one the Grand Law Protector had taken from the Cult Leader's Scripture. Manichaeism originated from the West, after all.
"The scroll is still with me!"
"Do you think the Cult Leader's Scripture holds only one martial art?"
Three-Eyed felt dizzy.
How many arts were recorded in the Cult Leader's Scripture, and how many had the Grand Law Protector stolen?
A few years ago, the Grand Law Protector had matched him evenly—how much further ahead was he now?
'My chances are slim.'
He refused to fall to some half-sorcery, half-martial technique, no matter how overwhelming the raw power.
Three-Eyed whirled and hurled himself at the rear wall. Though wounded, punching through a wall posed no difficulty.
A large hole gaped in the wall, and the damaged pillar made the house tilt slightly.
The Grand Law Protector gazed at Three-Eyed. At full effort, he could catch up now, continue the fight, even finish him.
But the Grand Law Protector had a more pressing matter. He picked up the scroll.
The final piece of the Cult Leader's Scripture martial arts was now in his hands.
*
Mok Wana and Dang Mujin toured the village until the rooster crowed.
Not a single villager recognized Mok Wana, and all showed her interest. Her pale skin, untouched by sunlight, drew too much attention.
Deeply shy, Mok Wana trailed half-hidden behind Dang Mujin. It hardly looked like leisurely sightseeing.
But crucially, no one harmed her.
The villagers' gazes brimmed with goodwill. Even the tense Mok Wana could sense that much.
Fears beyond reason faded before irrefutable experience. Her dread and aversion gradually ebbed.
Dang Mujin glanced back and said,
"You seem a bit better now?"
"...Still. I need more alcohol courage."
Mok Wana hunkered in an alley, swigging more grape wine while tense.
She wiped her mouth with her skinny forearm and let out a deep sigh.
Her back and shoulders ached from stiffness. Still, for a first time, it was impressive.
"No more dang candy?"
"...Ate too much. My tongue's numb."
Yet if offered more, she'd surely accept. Dang Mujin chuckled lightly.
'Progress comes slowly like this.'
Dang Mujin looked ahead again. Unlike Mok Wana's complex gaze, his heart swelled only with pride and a touch of smugness.
He felt like a master physician. Hadn't the sages said true masters healed not just body, but mind?
The sun rose dimly. Villagers emerged, eager for the festival's final day.
Conversely, it was time for Mok Wana and Dang Mujin to return to the cave. The crowds were too thick to risk sending her alone.
On the way back, Dang Mujin scanned about. He spotted Three-Eyed's house, somewhat damaged here and there.
A gaping hole yawned in the back, with people peeking in.
'No hole there during the day. What happened?'
Of course, Dang Mujin wasn't worried about Three-Eyed. The man was too strong for that.
Yet moments later, upon returning to the cave with Mok Wana, they found Three-Eyed seated in meditation. A livid bruise marred his abdomen.
"...!"
Mok Wana tensed and hid behind Dang Mujin.
Venturing out in broad daylight was daunting, but the cave's Three-Eyed was worse. Caught between rock and hard place, her eyes trembled wildly.
Dang Mujin calmed her, then approached Three-Eyed.
"Elder. What happened? Your house was smashed too."
Three-Eyed opened his eyes and said,
"The Grand Law Protector caused trouble. He's the one who lured the bird to the Cult Leader's Scripture, and stole arts from it to practice."
Dang Mujin narrowed his eyes. His hunch had proven spot-on.
"So, what now?"
"Tonight, the Cult Leader gives a sermon. I'll lay out the facts plainly and demand the Grand Law Protector's punishment. Be my witness."
"Not hard. But the Cult Leader won't get harmed before then, right?"
"Don't worry. Even the Grand Law Protector can't easily kill him. During the festival, the Left and Right Law Protectors guard the Cult Leader. He can't pierce two absolute peaks to reach him."
Left and Right Law Protectors were, naturally, from the Doctrine Faction, not Martial Faction. And the Doctrine Faction's loyalty to the Cult Leader surpassed all.
Dang Mujin and Three-Eyed took turns sleeping, while Mok Wana timidly slipped into her nook at the cave's depths for rest.
No one visited until evening. Dang Mujin stood, stretched, and called into the depths,
"In case something happens, just me and Elder Three-Eyed will go. Okay?"
"Got it! I'm fine!"
True enough—Mok Wana knew caves better than anyone.
Three-Eyed and Dang Mujin headed to the lower village.
Dusk fell once more, the mood even more festive than usual. People savored the festival's tail end with all their might.
The Cult Leader stood on a low platform, flanked by the Grand Law Protector, Left Law Protector, and Right Law Protector, speaking to the crowd.
No coercion gathered them. Yet none left the platform; they hung on his words. He had that magnetic presence.
But as Three-Eyed strode toward the platform, the crowd parted. The Grand Law Protector met his gaze with a smirk.
Ignoring it, Three-Eyed ascended, clasped hands lightly to the Cult Leader for permission.
"I have something to say."
"Urgent, I see. Proceed."
Three-Eyed bellowed to the assembly.
"Forgive me for interrupting this fine day and wise words! But I have urgent tidings!"
Not just those nearby, but even distant folk approached, ears perked. Three-Eyed rarely spoke publicly.
"You all know a damn bird nested atop our sect's main altar! It's plagued us for over a year! Know that one man orchestrated it all!"
All eyes fixed on Three-Eyed. Even the Grand Law Protector's.
"The Grand Law Protector! To steal arts passed down to successive Cult Leaders, he schemed everything! Last night, he even fought me upon discovery! We have a witness!"
Gazes turned to the Grand Law Protector.
As Three-Eyed led Dang Mujin up for testimony, the Grand Law Protector spoke.
"So what?"
His low voice rang clear to all ears. Practically a confession—everyone stiffened.
"What?"
"I'll ask in turn. Does it make sense to let such superb arts rot unused?"
"Nonsense!"
The Grand Law Protector tilted his head skyward.
As he slowly walked to the platform's center, the atmosphere shifted.
No ordinary gait.
Atop his innate overwhelming presence layered a crushing aura.
Mad arrogance in his steps, irreverence in his momentum. As if he had never bowed to another. The bearing of one lording over all.
The faint-hearted collapsed, legs buckling. Even Three-Eyed's knees quivered faintly.
The Grand Law Protector slowly swept his gaze over the crowd.
"I'll ask you all. Why are we in Shenqiang, at Tian Shan's foot? Because we love Manichaeism from the West? Hardly. How many knew its doctrine before coming?"
Arrogant words, yet undeniable truth. They settled here and found Manichaeism—not the reverse.
He continued.
"We're here for one reason: exile. For resisting injustice, crying out against a stifling world. But why must we flee? Why us? That's long gnawed at me."
His voice, infused with deep inner power, crushed the assembly.
A voice laced with demonic allure. Compelling content. Unlike the Cult Leader's pressure, his held unique magnetism. Heads bowed, all listened.
"Why hide arts mighty enough to rout Three-Eyed beneath the Cult Leader's Scripture? To cower in the boonies? No."
The Grand Law Protector smiled faintly. A kindly middle-aged face, yet it evoked not warmth, but fear and awe.
"Each has their story. But we were exiled for lacking power. Now, we've seized it."
Three-Eyed shouted,
"Our? Lies! You're the only one who learned demonic arts!"
The Grand Law Protector laughed.
"No. We've gained power. I'll teach you all what I've mastered. Any who crave strength, with talent enough, come to me. I'm ready—all that's left is your resolve."
The crowd stirred. Three-Eyed's bruised abdomen glared purple and red.
Power that overwhelmed even mighty Three-Eyed. What if they claimed it? Returned home with such might?
The Grand Law Protector spoke calmly.
"Of course, some won't agree. Those swayed purely by Manichaean doctrine, or spurning martial arts. Stand now."
A few glanced about, then rose hesitantly. Mostly elders too old to start.
"You'll follow the Cult Leader?"
One spry-looking elder nodded.
"...Yes."
The Grand Law Protector eyed the Cult Leader's escorts.
No—precisely, the Left and Right Law Protectors beside him.
The Left Law Protector's arm blurred. The Cult Leader's head flew skyward in a spray of blood. The Right Law Protector stood impassive. A surreal scene.
The Grand Law Protector asked the elder again.
"You'll follow the Cult Leader?"
"...No."
He approached the headless corpse, taking the staff.
The staff handed down among Manichaean Cult Leaders since ancient times.
Now, it rested in the Grand Law Protector's hand.
He asked the elder once more.
"You'll follow the Cult Leader?"
"...Yes."
"Wise choice."
The new Demonic Cult Leader smiled gently.