Chapter 224
Chapter 224
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 224
Chapter Title: All Streams Return to the Source
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dang Mujin was not the type to be endlessly optimistic.
That was why, when he decided to send letters across the Central Plains, he didn't hold out much hope for their impact. If they worked, great; if not, oh well.
He had dispatched messenger birds to the major sects everywhere, figuring it would be a win if they just passed the word to a couple of mid-tier sects nearby.
Proud sorts always had heavy mouths and heavier asses, after all.
If things went well, the righteous sects that received the letters—along with a good number of mid-tier ones—wouldn't make an issue of Blood Rain Guest's whereabouts after next year.
Sure, some clueless small fry might still come sniffing around. But they could just be brushed off easily enough.
If things went well, Blood Rain Guest could spend his later years in relative comfort without being chased out of righteous territory.
That was the extent of Dang Mujin and his friends' plan.
After agonizing over the letter for a good while, Dang Mujin showed it to his friends.
Nangong Myeong and Hong Geolgae were reasonably satisfied, but Hyeon-gong expressed a slight regret.
"Doesn't it feel a bit empty?"
"What does?"
"I mean, this might leave people lukewarm. Here, let me have it a sec. Just add a couple lines."
What Hyeon-gong added to the letter's opening was the line: "Fortune comes if you pass this letter to seven people; misfortune follows if you don't."
The actual wording was a touch longer, but the essence was the same.
"You think this'll work?"
"Of course."
"Come on, think about it rationally. People aren't idiots. No one's falling for that."
"Just trust me."
Hyeon-gong was confident, but Dang Mujin saw it as nonsense.
Contrary to Dang Mujin's expectations, though, there were plenty of fools in the world—and even more who didn't want to risk that vague unease.
To make matters worse, once people started linking subtle strokes of luck or misfortune to the letter, its spread from the Dang family manor exploded beyond imagination.
It went beyond reaching mid-tier sects, circulating even among small clans and individuals.
This proved Hyeon-gong far better than Dang Mujin at reading people's hearts.
As a result, the number of outsiders gathering near the Dang family manor lately had grown too substantial to ignore.
And this was just the beginning. More kept arriving at an accelerating pace, leaving Dang Mujin and his group a bit flustered.
"Blood Rain Guest, sir. Didn't you say you held no grudges from the people?"
"That's true. Most of these folks, I've never even met."
"Then why are they gathering?"
"Beats me."
The area around the Dang manor bustled like a marketplace, but it was just crowded—no real trouble.
Occasionally, righteous warriors from afar would mutter things like "How dare a fiend scum repent and reform!" over drinks, but that was it.
No one criticized Blood Rain Guest to his face, nor challenged him to a duel over old vendettas.
Only then did Dang Mujin realize what was happening.
'No way—are they all just spectators?'
Excellent. In a situation like this, the more witnesses, the better.
But Blood Rain Guest couldn't fully relax.
They'd set the deadline for year's end, so any trouble would likely erupt then.
As the weather grew colder, his anxiety mounted.
*
The season shifted from autumn into winter. Blood Rain Guest stayed at the Dang manor, teaching martial arts to anyone who asked.
He wasn't formally taking a second disciple after Namwoong. He simply offered guidance freely to whoever sought it within the manor's walls.
He saw it as the only way to repay Dang Mujin and his friends' kindness.
An absolute peak master's teachings were an unbelievable boon laid out before them, yet surprisingly, Blood Rain Guest's lessons drew little interest.
His prowess was impressive, but the foundation of his arts was so crude, relying far too much on instinct.
Being a great warrior didn't make one a great teacher.
Blood Rain Guest was sparring one-on-one against Hong Geolgae and Nangong Myeong.
When it ended in his victory again, he asked Hong Geolgae,
"What was that last stance called? Stone... something."
"The 'Sudden Emergence' from Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms."
"And the next one was 'Shaking the Hundred Li,' right?"
"Yes."
There was one merit to Hong Geolgae's habit of calling out stance names: it made reviewing spars easier.
"In my view, when countering 'Shaking the Hundred Li' in that situation, it might work better to execute it like this—like this."
Blood Rain Guest slightly altered and mimicked the stance Hong Geolgae had used.
He paid no heed to dignity; the modified pose looked a bit comical and bizarre.
It shared some essence with the original Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms, but the changes outnumbered the similarities.
Hong Geolgae couldn't even tell if it still qualified as Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms.
"Never considered using it that way. It's unfamiliar."
"If that's not comfortable, how about responding like this—like this?"
Blood Rain Guest unleashed a stance that didn't exist in Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms at all.
It would have been highly effective in the recent spar, but without proper form, it felt somehow sloppy.
"What's that stance?"
"No name for it. But it feels right to use it that way."
"...I'll try it next chance I get."
Of course, the odds of Hong Geolgae successfully imitating it were low. Blood Rain Guest's arts differed from others in every way.
Fiend warriors' techniques were highly practical, but the common view held they were less refined than righteous ones.
Even compared to other fiends, though, Blood Rain Guest's arts had excessive rough edges.
Next to his, Three-Eyed Demon's would seem like polished orthodox techniques. He'd at least stolen basics from Shaolin Temple.
Blood Rain Guest's foundation, by contrast, was so flimsy even Hong Geolgae could tell.
Risking rudeness, Hong Geolgae asked,
"Blood Rain Guest, sir."
"Yeah?"
"By chance, what level was your master at?"
"He called me first-rate, but probably just shy of true first-rate. Maybe right on the cusp of second to first."
That meant he'd reached first-rate, peak, and absolute peak through raw talent, instinct, and battlefield experience alone. Was that even possible?
"Did you ever have another master?"
"Never formally. But I've secretly observed others' training and mimicked their techniques plenty. Are they all my masters, then?"
Nangong Myeong, who had been listening silently, spoke up.
"I knew your arts blended many styles. But I can't comprehend it. How can you achieve that level that way?"
"What can't you understand?"
"Ultimately, martial attainment matters in depth, not breadth. Yet yours lacks subtlety, though it's clever and novel."
Few matched Nangong Myeong's talent for stealing others' arts.
He had learned countless techniques. He could imitate Hong Geolgae's Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms decently, even Hyeon-gong's Taiji Sword passably.
But such mimicry stayed mere amusement.
His Dragon Subduing lacked Hong Geolgae's solidity; his Taiji Sword couldn't touch Hyeon-gong or Elder Youngbo's seamlessness.
Moreover, sword arts mismatched to one's internal cultivation halved in power, hard to transcend hobby and aptitude.
Nangong Myeong knew this, so in dire moments, he always drew Nangong clan swords.
Heavenly Bow Sword Method and Sovereign Sword Forms—the ones he knew deepest.
A warrior might wield ten swords, but in crisis, only one could be swung reliably.
Thus, at some point, Nangong Myeong stopped stealing others' arts.
Blood Rain Guest was different in every regard.
Superb lightness skill and swift sword. But each stance crude. Chaotic swordplay cycling through ten styles.
Until meeting him, Nangong Myeong believed such methods couldn't yield true attainment; depth trumped variety.
Yet Blood Rain Guest proved otherwise, reaching absolute peak. Incomprehensible to Nangong Myeong.
Blood Rain Guest told him,
"Depth in martial arts is key, of course. But learning many reveals your path forward. And knowing direction is equally vital."
"I don't follow."
After a moment's thought, Blood Rain Guest explained.
"What do you think peak and absolute peak signify?"
"Peak is solidifying one's realm beyond boundaries; absolute peak, the pinnacle of martial arts."
Hong Geolgae agreed.
Blood Rain Guest refuted firmly.
"No. You're completely mistaken."
"What's wrong?"
"When advancing to peak, you thought you'd crossed a wall into the allowed realm?"
"Isn't that the truth?"
"Absolutely not."
As if he'd pondered it many times, his explanation flowed smoother than usual.
"It's not a wall—it's a fence. Reaching peak doesn't mean arriving beyond a wall into elites' domain. It means stepping over a small fence into the vast world. Or more precisely, 'escaping' the penned-in area."
Hong Geolgae looked lost.
But Nangong Myeong intuited: this was the greatest gain from Blood Rain Guest.
Far beyond swinging a sword more or learning extra stances.
"Then what is absolute peak to you, sir?"
"The moment one who escaped the fence spots their destination. 'The path lies there. Head that way.' Finding one's direction propels a peak master to the next realm."
Nangong Myeong felt dizzy.
By his knowledge—and common consensus—absolute peak was martial arts' limit.
One big step, and you'd arrive. But Blood Rain Guest denied it outright.
"Absolute peak isn't the destination either?"
"No. It's the starting point. When one discerns direction to the goal and stands ready, people call it absolute peak."
"You believe realms beyond absolute peak—unexplored frontiers—exist?"
"Naturally. I know they do. And your path to the next stage will likely mirror mine."
"What path?"
Blood Rain Guest smiled.
"You're like me. A man versed in a hundred swords. Difference: you gathered them for joy; I did because my inherited one proved unreliable. But we'll tread the same road."
"What road?"
"Examine the hundred swords you hold, the myriad arts they point to. Alone, one can't judge a path right or wrong. But if a hundred men, each seeking their way, converge on one direction—there's your goal."
Grabbing Nangong Myeong's shoulders firmly with both hands, Blood Rain Guest pressed on.
"Some find theirs by luck, others via world's best art, some pure talent. But insightful ones like us gauge others' directions to chart our course."
Nangong Myeong's temples throbbed.
Blood Rain Guest's words etched into his mind.
"Warriors ahead of you gazed to distant goals, discoursing on 'all streams return to the source.' No greater clue exists. I grasped its meaning too soon."
He paused, then continued.
"You can survey a hundred paths. Gauge where your hundred learned paths lead. Engrave 'all streams return to the source' in your heart, find the path touching the goal. Then you'll stand at the starting point."
Finally, with voice thick with regret, he added,
"But don't rush. Don't regret like me."
Nangong Myeong shot to his feet, leaning against a tree inside the manor walls.
He didn't sit cross-legged; instead of sheathing his sword, he planted it in the ground.
Then, eyes closed, he sank into thought.
Chaotic.
Nangong clan sword. Stolen Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms. Taiji Sword and Heart-Piercing Sword learned for fun. Nameless crude styles. Fist methods. Footwork and Golden Crow Hands.
At a glance, they seemed disorderly, each veering its own way.
Yet the insights within all pointed somewhere. Faint, but a definite directionality.
Nangong Myeong gazed that way.
There lay the 'all streams return to the source' countless masters debated.
The knot where countless threads tangled. Where streams and rivers formed a vast lake.
His heart raced. Sprint from here, and he'd step into the next realm.
Entering peak, piercing absolute peak's wall in just four years. Realizing his long dream. At twenty-six, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Father.
Yet Nangong Myeong halted.
He could gauge the goal's direction, but not his path to it.
He could bull toward the next realm.
Through brush, up and down cliffs. That alone might enter absolute peak.
But once done, he'd never find the true path. Post-absolute realms would stay forever out of sight. An entangled thread couldn't be unraveled.
Nangong Myeong grasped Blood Rain Guest's final warning: don't rush.
He hadn't known, rushed into absolute peak's entry, and stalled forever.
He passed his hard-learned errors to Nangong Myeong.
Thus, Nangong Myeong stepped back. He wouldn't halt at absolute peak's threshold like Blood Rain Guest.
Thus, he didn't reach absolute peak. But he felt no regret.
A full day later, Nangong Myeong opened his eyes.
His three friends sat before him, faces grave.
Their gazes met.
After brief silence, Hong Geolgae spoke for them.
"Nangong Myeong."
"Yeah?"
"No way. You broke into absolute peak?"
Nangong Myeong shook his head slowly.
Insight gained, but not the realm.
"...Good."
The three—especially Hong Geolgae—sighed in true relief.
So Nangong Myeong unleashed a heartfelt Thunderclap Divine Fist at Hong Geolgae, but he twisted away fluidly like flowing water.
Predicting it for a full day made it easy.
"Too slow."
Hong Geolgae turned triumphantly.
Nangong Myeong truly regretted not breaching absolute peak's wall.