Chapter 256
Chapter 256
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 256
Chapter Title: Kunlun Sect
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One Line Master was an experienced martial artist, so he could tell that Baek Ya-hyo's aura had suddenly turned ominous. But the problem was that Baek Ya-hyo's movements were too fast.
With such a clear gap in skill, even drawing their swords simultaneously would have made it hard to block.
Much less when he had drawn his sword late—there was no way One Line Master could block Baek Ya-hyo's blade.
One Line Master sensed death before he could even fully draw his sword.
'I'm dead!'
Yet there was one person present who didn't need to draw his sword at all.
Manryeokseung thrust out his tightly clenched fist, striking the flat of Baek Ya-hyo's sword. The blade's trajectory bent, grazing the ear of Huashan Sect's leader, Seonwooja.
"Whoa!"
Seonwooja's ear was deeply sliced, blood welling up. But among martial artists, this was barely considered a scratch. The three Righteous Sect warriors rose to their feet, assuming combat stances.
A brief standoff. One Line Master, who had nearly lost his head, bellowed in fury.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
"You came here knowing everything, and now you pretend otherwise? Do you think that changes anything?"
One Line Master, Seonwooja, and Manryeokseung pondered the meaning of his words. They pieced together the information they had and reached a conclusion.
One Line Master glared wide-eyed and shouted.
"Don't tell me—the one who stole the manual wasn't some underling from Kunlun Sect, but you?"
Seonwooja and Manryeokseung, arriving at the same realization, chimed in.
"Now it makes sense. No mere nobody could infiltrate Huashan Sect's inner sanctum and steal a manual."
"So that's why you arrived late to the Wudang Mountain conference? You vile scum!"
Baek Ya-hyo's lips twisted. The sight of the three playing blind man's buff was utterly ridiculous.
"Righteous Sect trash. You saw through the Evil Sects' plans and came here—why deny it now? If you were going to, you should have at least pretended to be careful. What idiot fool would fall for such a flashy trap?"
"...Trap?"
"Those stacks of manuals laid out in the open outside."
"...?"
The three Righteous Sect warriors all wore subtle expressions.
Baek Ya-hyo knew what that look meant. It was the face anyone who had taught disciples would recognize often—the expression when someone had no clue what you were talking about.
Baek Ya-hyo realized there had been some massive misunderstanding.
A leisurely, amiable smile returned to his face.
"...Hold on. Seems like there was a misunderstanding. How about we talk it over calmly?"
Baek Ya-hyo took a step forward as he spoke, but the three Righteous Sect warriors stepped back in unison.
A clear gesture that they didn't trust a word he said.
Of course. Having already launched a sneak attack with lethal intent, everything had gone awry.
To make matters worse, he had blurted out talk of the Evil Sects' martial world.
Baek Ya-hyo inwardly cursed his own recklessness, but the water was already spilled.
'The situation's half-ruined already. To avoid the worst case, I need to kill everyone who entered Kunlun Sect, then stall until reinforcements arrive from the north.'
Baek Ya-hyo stomped down as soon as he made his decision.
Dust billowed around the leader's chamber, a faint tremor spreading outward. The eyes and ears of those outside focused on Kunlun Sect's leader's chamber.
Baek Ya-hyo shouted.
"Kill them all!"
*
Dang Mujin's group was scattered about, retrieving the manuals Namgung Myeong had hidden one by one. Suddenly, all four stopped moving and looked up.
"Someone just used a ground-shaking stance."
If it were just catching ordinary thieves, they wouldn't resort to such a display of power.
Moreover, only two people came to mind who could unleash a stance like that: Baek Ya-hyo or Manryeokseung.
A booming voice followed.
"Kill them all!"
The moment the voice rang out, the Evil Sect warriors disguised as Kunlun Sect disciples drew their swords in unison.
They didn't know what was happening, but one thing was clear: the Evil Sect warriors led by Baek Ya-hyo had decided to drop their disguises.
Dang Mujin's group rushed to regroup without a word. They weren't used to entrusting their backs to anyone but each other.
"Hong Geolgae! Dang Mujin! Over here!"
Namgung Myeong and Hyeon-gong beckoned to Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae. The four drew their weapons and scanned their surroundings.
Kunlun Sect's grounds were already a battlefield. Kunlun Sect disciples and Righteous Sect warriors had drawn swords and were clashing.
The Kunlun Sect disciples who joined the fray were all at least first-rate. The Righteous Sect warriors were all first-rate as well.
Contrary to the common belief that battles between experts are long and flashy, fights between martial artists are decided in an instant.
Higher skill doesn't make skin tougher or flesh denser, but it does make blades sharper.
With every flash of steel, limbs flew and blood sprayed.
Dang Mujin's group, gathered together, exchanged glances before scattering in all directions. There were too many lives hanging by a thread to huddle like turtles.
'Can't use poison arts with everyone mixed up like this.'
Worried that poison would kill more Righteous Sect warriors than enemies, Dang Mujin drew his sword instead.
He spotted a Huashan Sect warrior about to lose his head. Dang Mujin charged with sword raised and swung. Namgung Myeong, Hyeon-gong, and Hong Geolgae did the same.
How much time passed? Dang Mujin's group realized something was off.
The Righteous Sect warriors were highly skilled and numerous—if they fought this desperately, they should have gained the upper hand by now.
But the situation was growing dire. Righteous and Evil corpses piled up evenly, yet the Evil Sect numbers barely dwindled.
Instead, the Righteous warriors were being encircled, their formation tightening.
Dang Mujin slew another Evil Sect warrior, then stepped back a couple paces to catch his breath. Hong Geolgae approached and asked.
"What's going on? There are too many Evil Sect guys!"
"How many do you think there are?"
"Not sure. But there are still about a dozen that look like Peak Realm experts."
Unless it was a powerhouse like Shaolin Temple, even major sects rarely had more than ten Peak Realm experts.
Yet Kunlun Sect still had a dozen Peak Realm Evil Sect warriors. Including the dead, it was around twenty.
Only then did Dang Mujin realize their misjudgment.
The old Kunlun Sect, as a Righteous faction, wouldn't have had this much power.
But a Kunlun Sect taken over by Evil Sect warriors had no reason to match its former strength.
They would have needed superior force to oust the originals, so the current Kunlun Sect naturally surpassed the old one.
Dang Mujin shouted.
"Gather the fallen here!"
Namgung Myeong, Hyeon-gong, and Hong Geolgae followed his orders, dragging the still-breathing wounded to the center.
Dang Mujin's group surrounded the injured, and the pressed Righteous warriors naturally clustered around them.
The Righteous warriors formed a circular formation to face the Evil Sect.
Both sides eyed each other and caught their breath. Their gazes met, sizing up each other's strength.
The Righteous warriors' faces darkened, while smirks played on the Evil Sect warriors' lips.
Not an overwhelming gap, but the Evil Sect realized they had seized momentum.
Someone muttered.
"What now?"
"What else? We fight."
Namgung Myeong stepped forward as he spoke.
Knowing he outclassed most Righteous warriors, he intended to take point and absorb the Evil Sect's attacks.
Hyeon-gong stepped up similarly.
"Those who can't fight yet, stay behind me and rest."
The world is full of cowards who think themselves clever. They act wise in peace but crumble in fear during danger, retreating on instinct.
Yet Hyeon-gong stayed cool-headed even now, finding a way to survive.
Using Taiji Sword's overwhelming defense to hold the line and secure an escape—that was his answer.
Unlike Namgung Myeong or Hyeon-gong, Hong Geolgae hesitated to advance. Instead, he whispered to the group.
"Anyone got any liquor?"
They shot him contemptuous looks.
"Not because I like it—because we need it."
Naturally, no one had any. Hong Geolgae sighed and moved to Dang Mujin's side, raising his staff.
Dang Mujin raised his right hand high to check the wind. It blew northwest to southeast.
Dang Mujin shoved Hyeon-gong aside and moved southeast.
"Go that way."
Hyeon-gong caught on and shifted to the opposite side, calling to nearby warriors.
"Follow me."
"No! That'll break the formation!"
Hyeon-gong clicked his tongue.
"Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae will hold the southeast. We move opposite."
"Just two people? Don't talk nonsense. We can't turn our backs on the enemy."
"You'll come this way whether you like it or not."
"What do you—"
"Hold your breath before it's too late."
Dang Mujin faced southeast.
The Evil Sect warriors stared at him, confused.
No living Righteous warriors among them.
He had never unleashed poison against so many before.
But he was confident. What was better for crowds than poison arts?
Poison qi rose like mist around Dang Mujin. A blend of the nine yin-based poisons he harbored—Nine Yin Crystal Fragrance.
"Cough! Cough!"
A Righteous warrior guarding Dang Mujin ignored Hyeon-gong and fled.
He instantly understood why.
Even one breath left him dizzy, consciousness fading. The tangled poison was hard to expel.
Hong Geolgae managed by slowing his breath and facing the wind, but others couldn't approach within a zhang even upwind.
The Nine Yin Crystal Fragrance rode the wind southeast. Spreading colorless poison via wind was simplest, stealthiest, and hardest to counter.
Weaker Evil Sect warriors collapsed unconscious after a couple breaths.
Stronger ones desperately leaped away from the infiltrating poison.
Hard to tell which way or how far to flee.
Dang Mujin sent a transmission to Namgung Myeong.
-I can't maintain the poison long.
-How long?
-Nine Yin Crystal Fragrance for one shichen. Then yang-based poisons for another. Total two shichen at most—maybe less.
-Got it.
Namgung Myeong let his sword hang low and advanced on the Evil Sect warriors.
*
A desperate battle raged inside the leader's chamber too. Half the walls had crumbled, and One Line Master and Seonwooja were covered in fine bloodlines.
Yet they hadn't inflicted real damage on Baek Ya-hyo. They merely stalled him desperately to keep him from sweeping outside.
Baek Ya-hyo said leisurely.
"Futile. Even without me, can't you sense how the outside's going?"
"We'll see about that."
One Line Master glanced back—not outside, but at Manryeokseung half a step behind.
For some reason, Manryeokseung wasn't actively engaging Baek Ya-hyo. He only aided defense in critical moments.
Even with him joining, no guarantee they could subdue Baek Ya-hyo.
But it beat this stalemate—better for Manryeokseung to join and end it quickly.
Then, Baek Ya-hyo and the two leaders sensed a change outside.
The brief quiet turned rowdy again, cries rising with faint poison qi seeping in.
'Poison qi?'
Faint enough not to be dangerous yet. But the problem was not knowing who unleashed it.
In such chaos, suspicion fell on the one capable of strange tricks.
One Line Master and Seonwooja's swords grew hasty. They planned to risk it and subdue Baek Ya-hyo to break out.
Baek Ya-hyo eyed the poison suspiciously too. He inhaled deeply and raised his sword.
"Time to wrap this up and head out."
Baek Ya-hyo focused calmly, then twisted his wrist, laying the blade sideways.
As if heralding a horizontal sweep.
Owl Claw Sword technique: Falling Phoenix.
Then, like a snapped invisible thread, Baek Ya-hyo's sword exploded forward at One Line Master and Seonwooja.
They expected something, but not this sudden acceleration. The sword path was bizarre—not swordsmanship, but like a raptor's talons hunting prey.
One Line Master, nearly slain twice before, sensed it instinctively: meeting that blade head-on meant death.
But Seonwooja differed. Never in true peril yet, he believed he could find a way.
That judgment split their actions.
To dodge together or block together—but One Line Master lowered his stance to evade, while Seonwooja raised his sword to parry.
Baek Ya-hyo's blade twisted sharply, targeting a tiny crack in Seonwooja's sword.
Bounce the sword and sever the neck, or shatter the sword and sever the neck—he was confident either way.
Then, Manryeokseung, who had hung back half a step, lowered his stance and extended his right arm.
A plain palm strike. Not particularly fast—seeming to finish only after Baek Ya-hyo's sword took Seonwooja's head.
Yet Manryeokseung's hand accelerated gradually, seizing Baek Ya-hyo's blade in an instant.
"!"
Baek Ya-hyo startled, trying to yank his sword free.
A deflection, press, or flick earlier might have been luck.
But grabbing the blade? That was another realm entirely. As if Manryeokseung, not even past Absolute Peak's wall, was overwhelming Baek Ya-hyo.
Even infusing qi to pull, Baek Ya-hyo couldn't free it from Manryeokseung's grip.
Manryeokseung smiled as he spoke.
"Eighteen Hands of the Plum Deer Offering Flowers. Shaolin martial arts are truly remarkable, aren't they?"
Their eyes met.
In that moment, Baek Ya-hyo realized.
At the fight's start, Manryeokseung had teetered on Peak Realm's edge. Unknown to all, without warning, he had reached Absolute Peak.
Not something to brush off as quiet enlightenment.
Manryeokseung hadn't just stepped into Absolute Peak. He had surged two steps ahead of Baek Ya-hyo.
Baek Ya-hyo, One Line Master, and Seonwooja couldn't comprehend it.
Martial arts progress step by step, layer by layer.
Some take the next step quickly, others need a decade, some never do. But always one step at a time.
Manryeokseung skipped the process entirely.
Like rice ears yellowing and sprouting instantly after seeding—unthinkable.
Baek Ya-hyo twisted desperately, but Manryeokseung's grip held firm. Finally, he snapped Baek Ya-hyo's sword with a wrist flick.
Only the tip broke; he could still fight.
But Baek Ya-hyo sensed defeat.
"How? How the hell did you do it?"
Manryeokseung laughed.
"Nearly ten years—I wasn't unable to reach Peak Realm's end. I simply didn't."
Manryeokseung advanced, and One Line Master and Seonwooja unconsciously stepped aside.
But Baek Ya-hyo couldn't yield. Manryeokseung approached him.
Baek Ya-hyo swung the broken sword and yelled.
"Does that even make sense?!"
"Of course."
Manryeokseung gripped and snapped the sword again. Now only five cun of blade remained.
Ten years ago, Manryeokseung stood at Peak Realm's edge, ready for the next if he wished.
But his master, Divine Monk, gripped his grown disciple's shoulder. Standing beside, they gauged the path ahead.
One goal: straighter, faster, farther than any—closest to Bodhidharma.
Manryeokseung grew not impatient.
Instead, following his master's advice, he stared at his path unmoving for ten years.
He envisioned himself in his mind for a decade.
No trial and error—he pictured himself charging straight to the end.
Until "closest to the Six Patriarchs" turned from praise to mockery.
Impossible for mortal patience.
Manryeokseung sat before blank paper, brush in hand, waiting ten years.
Today, he wielded it.
One stroke: inked to the farthest reach, dashed to the swiftest bound.
Having quietly refined enlightenment for ages, he needed no flashy epiphany.
No tripping over stones like others.
"Seems impossible? Viewed through conventional martial theory, yes."
Baek Ya-hyo had nowhere to retreat.
Manryeokseung smiled.
"But Shaolin makes it possible."
Manryeokseung's hand slowly closed around Baek Ya-hyo's face.