Chapter 173
Chapter 173
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 173
Chapter Title: Kongtong Sect
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"Three-Eyed Arhat!"
The Kongtong Sect martial artists hesitated and fell back step by step.
Sword Dragon Sword Hyeon-gong standing beside them was fairly well-known, but there was a decisive gap in reputation between him and the Three-Eyed Arhat.
When people regarded Hyeon-gong, they considered his future potential before his current skill.
By contrast, evaluations of the Three-Eyed Arhat contained no such future promise. He had made his moniker known across the entire Central Plains through nothing but his raw current prowess and infamy.
Even the Kongtong Sect martial artists pulled their hips back as if ready to bolt at any moment.
Yagul Dal-eum murmured softly.
"I never imagined a master of that caliber would show up... We need to withdraw right now."
No answer came back.
Wondering what was going on, Yagul Dal-eum glanced aside and spotted Dang Mujin and his companions huddled together.
'What are they up to?'
Even amid the tension, Yagul Dal-eum couldn't suppress his curiosity and peered at what Dang Mujin and the others were doing.
The four men thrust out their fists, checking one another's hand shapes. It was Insect Fist. A simple game for deciding order or settling tabs for drinks or meals.
"Got it!"
Namgung Myeong, victorious in the Insect Fist, let out a cry brimming with delight. Thick disappointment showed on the faces of the other three.
Yagul Dal-eum, baffled by the scene, pressed Dang Mujin's group.
"What are you doing? Hurry up...!"
Hong Geolgae held Yagul Dal-eum back.
"No. You can just stay put."
"The opponent's the Three-Eyed Arhat!"
"It's fine."
As Hong Geolgae soothed Yagul Dal-eum, Namgung Myeong hummed a little tune, drew his sword with his right hand, and strode toward the bald man.
Sensing intuitively that Namgung Myeong was no easy mark, the bald man fixed him with a grave stare.
Everyone's eyes naturally converged on Namgung Myeong. He pointed his prosthetic arm—which resembled a human limb in every way save its hue—at the bald man.
"Those who've trained some martial arts claim the Three-Eyed Arhat is the supreme external arts master under heaven. He can block a blade brimming with inner energy bare-skinned and come away unscratched."
"Right you are. Looks like you know of Elder Three-Eyed Arhat after all!"
Emboldened, the unorthodox rabble shouted. Namgung Myeong cocked his head lightly and replied,
"Of course. Let's see if your external arts measure up to Old Man Three-Eyed Arhat's."
Silence fell over the onlookers. His words carried profound weight.
Namgung Myeong advanced with heavy steps, hoisting his right-hand sword high overhead.
Only a single vertical cleave was feasible from that stance—a crude posture that would draw sneers even from sword novices.
And Namgung Myeong duly unleashed the attack as expected.
A vertical slash, unremarkable in speed—neither overly swift nor sluggish.
A mere clean line traced straight down from above.
Yet it was the blade of a once-in-a-generation prodigy, tempered amid brushes with death—no one present could hope to imitate it.
Fake or not, the bald man had scaled the wall to supreme mastery, and he swiftly discerned the sword's extraordinariness.
'Dodge first.'
The fake Three-Eyed Arhat shifted sideways with basic footwork, but instinct locked his legs in place.
His lifetime of experience, his intuition, his gut screamed that it led not to survival.
Warriors of a certain caliber never dismiss such instincts lightly. Most who do perish ere attaining it.
'I can't tell what follows. But evading means certain death.'
Unable to swerve from the oncoming sword, his sole recourse was forcing it to miss.
The fake Three-Eyed Arhat whipped out a fist. His right arm's muscles bunched taut, channeling inner energy to smack the blade's side.
*Thung—*
Yet Namgung Myeong's sword defied comprehension in its heft. It felt less like metal gripped in flesh and more like battering an iron pile driven into stone.
No mere contest of brute force.
Namgung Myeong's sword veered only faintly off-course without rebounding afar, sweeping downward. A hunk of flesh tore free from the fake Three-Eyed Arhat's left shoulder, blood geysering forth.
"Urk...!"
Grievous wound. Still, Namgung Myeong's eyes sparkled with fascination.
"You're sharp, aren't you?"
The fake Three-Eyed Arhat grasped it at once. Dodging would have meant death.
Namgung Myeong raised his sword anew.
"But your external arts don't match that instinct. Up for another go?"
As Namgung Myeong lifted his sword again, the fake Three-Eyed Arhat ground his molars.
The same sword stroke repeated. Namgung Myeong struck; the fake desperately parried and took wounds.
Trajectories varied, yet all seemed simplistic. Vertical cleave. Horizontal slice. Diagonal cut. Thrust.
The unorthodox warriors grasped none of the exchange. They'd always just dodged such blades before.
Fuming, the unorthodox bellowed.
"That mangy mutt. Total fake!"
"Obviously phony. Can't dodge a basic swing—look at the fool keep eating hits."
"I told you before! No way the Three-Eyed Arhat holes up in this dump."
"Even fake, that's pathetic. Moron! Dodge that much at least? Not picking up a thing while getting carved up? What's that skull for, huh?"
"But last time he pulverized three in one go. Fake or not, he's gotta be an expert..."
Jeers and abuse tangled with lukewarm cheers. Evidence pointed to phony, but he was their lone pillar.
Kongtong Sect warriors fared no better in comprehending the bout.
Only Dang Mujin's crew intuited its depths and tsked their tongues.
"Namgung Myeong's toying cruelly."
"Half-playing. Better to end it quick and clean."
Namgung Myeong's sword brimmed with feeling, plain even to Hong Geolgae's eyes.
Tempo quickened bit by bit; faint killing intent laced the once-plain strikes.
Utterly thrilled, Namgung Myeong crowed.
"Die, Three-Eyed Arhat!"
"Urk!"
"You smash a guy's arm, least you could do is apologize!"
"When did I!"
Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae clammed up. Hyeon-gong's eyes gleamed, committing Namgung Myeong's barbs to memory. Lines like that had their uses.
Ere long, the fake Three-Eyed Arhat was drenched head to toe in gore.
Fight effectively done; survival hung by a thread. Yagul Dal-eum neared Dang Mujin.
"Could you rein in Young Hero Namgung, by chance?"
"Why?"
"Fake Three-Eyed Arhat or not, such external arts are rare. Bring him alive to Kongtong Sect, and he'd prove invaluable."
"Can't do it."
Dang Mujin answered flatly.
Impersonation warranted death.
They'd spared the Ghost Clothes impostor whose aims matched the original's legacy, but this case differed. Yagul Dal-eum knew better than to press.
One-sided pummeling dragged on a spell longer, till Namgung Myeong's Imperial Sword Form rent the foe's torso deep. Clean kill, no debate.
Namgung Myeong shook blood beads from his blade with a flick, returning carefree to the group.
"Vexations purged."
"That's not exactly... Well, good work."
Cue given, Kongtong Taoists surged at the unorthodox.
Will broken, the unorthodox submitted meekly.
Taoists arrayed them single-file, scrutinizing faces, arts practiced, bone frames, and such.
Judgment fell after due time. Of fourteen unorthodox, one irredeemably vile met instant execution. Two wielded middling arts but shone with talent—bound for Kongtong Sect. They'd emerge true Kongtong Taoists.
Survivors wore labyrinthine expressions.
The pair conscripted looked skystruck, yet nursed faint smugness too. Unasked-for, sure, but aptitude affirmed. Unorthodox life offered scant such nods.
The eleven spared pulled faces the other way—relief soured by phony vibes.
Kongtong ranks swelled by two; they pivoted course.
Yagul Dal-eum thanked Dang Mujin's group.
"Fake Three-Eyed Arhat notwithstanding, his prowess and menace were no jest. You saved us from peril. My thanks."
Namgung Myeong aside, the three swiftly demurred.
"Nothing to it. Embarrassing how we dragged on a scrub."
"Had I known it'd take so long, I'd have handled it. Delay us into dew-sodden slumber, and I'll tan his hide proper."
"...No call for that."
"Nonsense. Nip bad habits in the bud."
Yagul Dal-eum's gaze toward Dang Mujin's group softened further. Skilled juniors who humbled themselves? Rare breed.
Yagul Dal-eum eyed Yi Gyu, laden like a pack mule.
"That fellow heaped with gear behind—is he with you?"
"Party member? ...More a local guide since these parts. Paying for crimes."
"Then, mind if we take him to Kongtong Sect? Bit long in tooth, but hauling that load sans stumbling gait screams potential."
"Perfect. He's yours."
Eavesdropping Yi Gyu's face crumpled miserably. No say in it.
Yi Gyu, trailing, slowed his pace a touch.
*
The group reached Kongtong Sect's Huan'gu Pavilion.
Unlike other sects hugging villages, no hamlets or woods ringed Huan'gu Pavilion—just lone edifices and ramparts amid boundless steppe.
Its walls dwarfed typical sect barriers in height and girth by double, sprawling too vast for a mere annex.
Within lay throngs drilling in crisp ranks.
Likely all forcibly reformed unorthodox, yet their visages shone unexpectedly bright. Less joy than zeal-fueled focus.
A far cry from the usual unorthodox sludge of gloom.
"Nicer vibe than I figured."
Hyeon-gong remarked; Yagul Dal-eum beamed chest puffed.
"As Kongtong warrior and Huan'gu Pavilion man, this atmosphere's my pride."
Dang Mujin's group stayed mum, but Yagul Dal-eum sensed their rapt attention.
He pressed on.
"Other sects flaunt clout, peerless masters. Kongtong boasts truest claim: sole sect redeeming fiends into light. Folks dub Shaolin the Central Plains pinnacle, but to me, Kongtong's the righteous paragon."
"Bet Huan'gu Pavilion life ain't cushy, though."
Dang Mujin tossed in; Yagul Dal-eum grinned wide-eyed.
"Spot on. Main sect has scant volunteers for Huan'gu Pavilion."
"Not everyone's so proud."
"No surprise there. Swap their shoddy unorthodox hacks or teetering demonic arts for Kongtong's rigorous canon? Martial thirst's inevitable."
Dang Mujin nodded.
Even he—a lowly physician—found half-hearted martial dabbling irresistibly magnetic.
How deep the thrall for one already martial-minded tasting true excellence?
"So Kongtong folk rotate in or get drafted to Huan'gu Pavilion?"
Yagul Dal-eum shook his head, pride swelling.
"All volunteers. They quash personal quests for heights and glory, converging for grander purpose. Huan'gu Pavilion folk are my pride."
Yagul Dal-eum beckoned; a Kongtong man fetched a trainee—puny chap with the proverbial rat mustache.
Dang Mujin's group clocked him: Dang Hyang Samgwang's intel source, Yong Ilseon.
"This Yong Ilseon?"
"Aye."
Yong Ilseon eyed the group quizzically.
Yagul Dal-eum told him,
"Taoist Yong. They wanna ask something."
"Bet it's a man-hunt. Spill it."
Dang Mujin to Yong Ilseon:
"Know where Luminous Sword's at?"
Yes or no expected—yet Yong Ilseon volleyed a third.
"Which Luminous Sword? The pair of 'em?"
Dang Mujin scowled.
"North had a fake Three-Eyed Arhat. Fake Luminous Sword too?"
Yong Ilseon waved it off with a chuckle.
"Nah. Word is, both Luminous Swords are legit. The old-timer and the youngster."