Chapter 262
Chapter 262
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 262
Chapter Title: Flying Wheels
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dang Mujin busily went back and forth in the forge, crafting flying wheels that varied slightly in size and weight.
Making multiple similar flying wheels didn't shorten the work time at all, so the master smiths were able to enjoy themselves immensely while watching Dang Mujin's efforts.
Now, only one task remained for Dang Mujin: practicing with the flying wheels.
"..."
His three friends watched Dang Mujin in silence.
Dang Mujin focused his mind, then flicked his wrist smoothly as if shaking off water, and threw the flying wheel.
Even without telekinesis, the flying wheel's trajectory curved slightly, but as Dang Mujin's internal energy guided its path, it began to change direction even more sharply.
The flying wheel, which had flown far away, soon returned to Dang Mujin's hand like a bird.
Hong Geolgae, who had been watching, spoke up.
"You're just going to keep throwing and catching it like that?"
"For now, yeah. It's like sword practice—repeating the same motion thousands or tens of thousands of times."
"It already looks pretty clean. How much more are you planning to practice?"
"Way more than with the sword."
When learning martial arts, what you understand with your head is different from what your body learns.
For example, a duel between two swordsmen can be called a clash of habits.
In the midst of swords clashing several times in a single breath, you can't consciously think about where to thrust or how to recover your blade each time.
That's why martial artists repeatedly drill their ingrained attacks and defenses against each other.
Out of ten clashes, eight or nine are handled unconsciously with the sword, and if there's a big skill gap, the fight is decided right there.
But if their skills are evenly matched, then it shifts from instinct to judgment.
They hide feints between habitual thrusts and land tricks to decide the winner.
Just as martial artists unconsciously thrust their swords to attack and parry instinctively, Dang Mujin believed the flying wheels needed to be handled with that same natural fluidity.
Unlike a sword, the flying wheel didn't always need to be in hand. If he could wield it effortlessly without conscious thought, he could probably handle two or more at once.
If he could throw and retrieve three or five of these powerful flying wheels simultaneously, no opponent would be too fearsome.
Namgung Myeong, who had been watching Dang Mujin's training beside Hong Geolgae, spoke up.
"But it looks really dangerous. Don't overdo it and lose a finger or something—take it easy."
Namgung Myeong's gaze lingered on Dang Mujin's hands, covered in wounds.
Flying wheel practice was far more dangerous than sword forms. Even a slight miss when catching a returning one would draw blood at minimum, and the blade could bite deep into bone.
One more mistake, and losing a finger like Namgung Myeong said wouldn't be surprising.
Yet Dang Mujin trained fully aware he might lose one or two fingers if things went wrong.
If he hesitated to reach out for fear of a cut when catching a returning flying wheel that had flown far, the problem would be far worse.
A missed flying wheel could embed itself in a vital spot like the throat or chest.
Flying wheel training was that perilous. He could imagine someone with weak martial prowess dying just trying to imitate it.
"It's fine. Can't stop this soon after starting."
Dang Mujin endured the pain in his palms and fingers—and the risks ahead—for two reasons.
First, he'd seen the potential in the flying wheels. Second, the training itself was fun.
He'd been immersed in sword practice at first too, but the thrill of the flying wheels far surpassed mere swordsmanship.
People instinctively love throwing and watching things fly.
That's why they enjoy slingshots and archery.
But the flying wheel went beyond that. How could training with something that sliced through the sky far more fluidly and flexibly than arrows or stones—and even obeyed his will—not be exhilarating?
Namgung Myeong stretched and asked.
"When do you think you'll be ready for sparring?"
"That might be tough."
Of course, flying wheel training had one serious flaw: sparring was nearly impossible.
With swords, you could stop at the moment of victory or defeat, but not with flying wheels. A slight slip by the defender, and their neck could be cleanly severed without surprise.
Dang Mujin wasn't yet skilled enough to suppress his friends that way, but his three friends didn't inspire confidence regardless.
"What if I try throwing one?"
"That should be okay."
Namgung Myeong took a small flying wheel and mimicked Dang Mujin's form to throw it.
The flying wheel he threw arced convincingly through the sky and returned, slicing off two fingers from his wooden left hand before he caught it.
He must have figured losing prosthetic fingers was better than bleeding from two on his real right arm.
Namgung Myeong said sheepishly.
"This is harder to handle than I thought."
Hyeon-gong and Hong Geolgae seemed to think it was due to Namgung Myeong's lack of skill, but Dang Mujin saw it differently.
Namgung Myeong had diligently practiced telekinesis to freely control his prosthetic, so he could make the thrown flying wheel return.
Namgung Myeong made a strange face.
"Doesn't suit me. Swords are still my thing."
"Yeah?"
Dang Mujin pulled the flying wheel from Namgung Myeong's prosthetic and held it out to Hong Geolgae.
"Want to give it a throw?"
"Can I drink first?"
"Quit talking nonsense."
Dang Mujin offered the flying wheel to Hyeon-gong.
"How about you throw it?"
Hyeon-gong gripped it confidently, imitating Dang Mujin's stance, and threw.
The flying wheel flew off into the distance and never came back.
Dang Mujin crossed his arms, and Hyeon-gong slowly stood.
"I'll go find it."
Hyeon-gong hopped the wall and vanished in the direction it had gone.
*
Just as his friends had taken an interest in Dang Mujin's flying wheels, so too did Three-Eyed Buddha and Blood Rain Guest Jang Ilnam.
This was welcome news for Dang Mujin.
Among those staying at the Dang family estate, the two he absolutely couldn't harm with his flying wheels were precisely Three-Eyed Buddha and Jang Ilnam.
That meant they could serve as sparring partners for the flying wheels.
Three-Eyed Buddha stripped off his upper garment and rolled his shoulders, standing a short distance from Dang Mujin.
"I hear from Ilnam that these flying wheels of yours are impressive. Let's see how powerful they really are."
"Better not get too careless, sir."
Dang Mujin kicked off and unleashed a flying wheel.
Three-Eyed Buddha immediately dashed after him, swinging a fist.
Whooosh—
The fist, improbably fast and heavy for its massive size, grazed Dang Mujin's ear. The delayed pressure wave tousled his hair.
Three-Eyed Buddha wasn't striking with full power, but each time that enormous gray fist approached, Dang Mujin felt a thrilling terror.
Dang Mujin desperately scattered flying wheels as he fled, while Three-Eyed Buddha dodged or snatched them. When the third flying wheel was caught in Three-Eyed Buddha's hand, Dang Mujin was cornered. The match was decided.
Dang Mujin let out a sigh tinged with regret.
"I'm still a long way off."
Unlike Dang Mujin, who was a bit disappointed, Three-Eyed Buddha's assessment differed.
"No. Once you get more proficient with them, even I won't handle you this easily. And I knew what flying wheels were going in."
"Is that so."
"No joke. Try throwing one at me, Dang Mujin."
Three-Eyed Buddha turned, exposing his rugged, broad back.
It felt odd attacking the back of someone he knew, but Dang Mujin threw a flying wheel at Three-Eyed Buddha's back as instructed.
It flew swiftly, struck his back, left a minor scrape, and fell to the ground.
Three-Eyed Buddha touched his back with a finger. A faint drop of blood stained it.
"Not much power behind it, but the wheel's own sharpness compensates. Against most people, it'd pierce the back and reach the heart. With more flying wheels, even I might struggle."
"How many would it take to challenge you, sir?"
"Hmm. If you can handle five at once, no ordinary transcendent master would claim certain victory against you."
"Five..."
A distant goal, but having a concrete number energized him.
Three-Eyed Buddha wasn't done.
"Flying wheels suit you perfectly in every way, Dang Mujin. That footwork you just used—you learned it at Shaolin Temple, right?"
"If you're referring to the Buddha Shadow Immortal霞 Step, yes."
"Right. It's not as blindingly fast as Ilnam's, but it has two key strengths."
"What are they?"
"First, it allows more variations in movement than other footworks. Second, it produces less upper-body sway compared to others."
He knew about the variability, but the minimal upper-body movement was a new realization for Dang Mujin.
Thinking back, it was true. Unlike the Cloud Leaping Step he'd learned from the masked figure, his vision barely bobbed up and down with the Buddha Shadow Immortal霞 Step.
"With less upper-body movement, it'll be a huge asset for precise arts like flying wheels. And it's not just the footwork. Coating them in poison would make them even deadlier."
Three-Eyed Buddha paused, then continued.
"But to use flying wheels to their utmost, you need to change your mindset first."
"What do you mean?"
"Like most hidden weapons, flying wheels excel at ambushes—especially these. Throwable from afar, utterly stealthy. Unlike daggers, they make no cutting wind noise. Your most effective use is lurking in the dark at night and striking unseen. Few could counter it properly."
Dang Mujin frowned. It sounded like acting like an assassin from the Shadow Veil.
"Not exactly my style."
"But situations will arise where you must. You don't plan to leave Dan Seol-yeong and Mok Wan-ah widowed in the coming chaos, do you?"
Dang Mujin didn't reply. But Three-Eyed Buddha was right.
The coming Orthodox Alliance War and Orthodox-Demonic War wouldn't end peacefully.
Three-Eyed Buddha approached, patted Dang Mujin's shoulder, and left.
Dang Mujin assumed Jang Ilnam would follow, but he stayed nearby, picking up scattered flying wheels and mimicking Dang Mujin's form to throw them.
Jang Ilnam throwing flying wheels resembled Dang Yeong playing with a toy disc, but the speed was no mere play—it seemed even faster than Dang Mujin's.
Dang Mujin thought challenging both to spars back-to-back was excessive, so he focused on training without asking Jang Ilnam.
'Tomorrow or the day after, I should spar with Elder Jang too.'
Suddenly, two people fiddled with flying wheels.
The only difference: Dang Mujin threw his far off, while Jang Ilnam aimed at the nearby wall.
Time passed until the sun hung on the western ridge, when Jang Ilnam spoke to Dang Mujin.
"Hey, Young Hero Dang."
Jang Ilnam glanced at him as he spoke.
Dang Mujin's age was awkwardly in-between—too old for "young hero," too young for "great hero."
Like a chick just shy of full rooster size.
"Yes."
"Want to spar?"
"Is that all right?"
"Of course. But like this: you use your sword, I'll use flying wheels."
Dang Mujin guessed his intent.
'Stand in the defender's shoes and feel the flying wheels' power firsthand.'
Grateful for the gesture, Dang Mujin clasped his fists in thanks.
"Understood."
Dang Mujin picked up his nearby sword and faced Jang Ilnam, who held two flying wheels.
'No way he can already throw two at once?'
A realm Dang Mujin hadn't reached.
But who was Jang Ilnam? Taught by a second-rate master, he'd broken through to transcendent almost solo—a monster.
Few in the world could match his talent.
Dang Mujin raised his sword slightly, relaxed his wrist, and fixed on Jang Ilnam's fingertips, ready to defend.
Jang Ilnam casually flicked one flying wheel. It flew at waist-chest height, then curved gently toward Dang Mujin.
Dang Mujin swiftly swung, striking the upper side.
Ting—
The flying wheel made a small sound and dropped, stopping on the ground.
Compared to his tension, it was anticlimactic, so Dang Mujin whipped his head to check Jang Ilnam, suspecting a second in the gap.
But Jang Ilnam still held the other.
"Try catching this one too."
He threw the second. This trajectory was much lower.
'Knee? No, ankle?'
It flew at calf height toward Dang Mujin.
The bizarrely low path made it tricky to counter.
Martial artists' swords rarely targeted ankles or knees, so most defenses were weak low down.
'Is this the lesson?'
But not impossible to block.
As Dang Mujin swung down to knock the second away, he witnessed something strange.
The flying wheel seemed to wobble faintly, then abruptly veered upward.
As if it had never aimed for his ankle, it grazed past his cheek.
A faint bead of blood welled on Dang Mujin's cheek, cold sweat on his back.
'How?'
Jang Ilnam approached, startled.
"Whoops! Sorry. Didn't expect it to come that close."
One detail in Blood Rain Guest's words: that bizarre trajectory was intentional.
Dang Mujin pressed his cheek to staunch the blood.
"It's fine. Just a graze."
"Sorry!"
"Really, it's okay. But how did you do that?"
Telekinesis pulling it mid-flight? No, even if Jang Ilnam's was more precise and stronger, it couldn't make it leap vertically like that.
"Wait a moment."
Jang Ilnam hopped the wall, retrieved the second flying wheel, and showed it to Dang Mujin. One side was slightly dented.
"It's dented. Must've happened on impact."
Jang Ilnam shook his head at Dang Mujin's words.
"No. I dented it."
"Pardon?"
Jang Ilnam gripped it with index, middle, and ring fingers—index and ring below, middle pressing from above. It matched the dent perfectly.
"During your spar with Brother Three-Eyed earlier, one of your flying wheels hit the wall and dented a bit."
"Uh... yes."
Five thrown at Three-Eyed Buddha: three caught, two hit the wall. Dang Mujin planned to reshape the dented ones.
Jang Ilnam continued.
"Throwing the dented one felt different in trajectory from a smooth one. So I experimented, denting them various ways to see how paths changed."
He threw it again. Skimming the ground, it suddenly leaped up.
He trotted over, picked it up, wedged it between fingers, and dented it differently.
"This one goes the opposite way."
His second throw arced high.
High enough to snag a passing sparrow, it seemed.
But it suddenly dove downward. If someone were below, it'd skewer their crown.
"But dent it like this, and it curves upward following the spin. Add a telekinetic pull, and you get this."
His third throw flew level, then shot up-left abruptly.
Dang Mujin envisioned blocking it.
Aiming for waist, he'd expose his neck instead.
Dang Mujin's face filled with shock.
It was bizarre beyond surprise.
Even explained, he couldn't grasp it.
"How did you do it?"
Jang Ilnam raised both hands, fingers wiggling as if to explain, but struggled.
"This... well, it just clicked while doing it. Don't worry—you'll handle them far better than me soon. I'm just a dabbler who picked up a trick by chance."
Jang Ilnam grinned sheepishly, handed over the flying wheel, and left.
Dang Mujin stood dazed for a while, then snapped to. He bent and dented flying wheels variously, throwing them.
His flew wildly, smashing into the wall, denting and breaking repeatedly.
Like the dented flying wheels, red flowers bloomed anew on Dang Mujin's healing hands.
But he was gripped by strange fervor. Jang Ilnam's demonstration had sparked fierce inspiration.
Even throwing until dawn the next day, he couldn't replicate it cleanly.
Yet his heart soared with clarity.
The path ahead stretched endlessly far.