Chapter 74
Chapter 74
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Grudge
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Baek Chuseo felt a faint poison seeping into his skin.
*I've fallen into a trap.*
This was his first time facing someone who practiced poison arts head-on.
No, in truth, he didn't have much experience even against those who didn't use poison arts. Baek Chuseo had never fought in a life-or-death duel and had sparred fewer than ten times.
Unlike training, spars had winners and losers. Victory brought honor, but defeat tarnished one's name.
Baek Chuseo knew well that his skills fell short of people's expectations.
That was why he never sought out opponents for spars and made excuses to avoid them whenever challenged.
It was better to quietly continue his training than to lose a spar and bring shame to the JeWon Baek Clan.
However, a lack of sparring experience didn't mean he was clueless about facing poison users.
*The basics are not to inhale the poison.*
Poison could seep through the skin, but only in minute amounts. Baek Chuseo held his breath and quickly assessed the situation.
*The underling of that demonic physician chose an indoor location to keep the poison from dispersing.*
In that case, the first thing to do was to dispatch the man blocking the door and escape the room.
Baek Chuseo glanced at the demonic physician's underling.
*Young.*
He was probably just past thirty at most.
At that age, unless he was a promising talent from a prestigious righteous sect, reaching first-rate was difficult.
Even if he'd only trained the sword normally, it would have been hard—practicing poison arts on top of that surely meant his swordsmanship was even more lacking.
Yet he stood arrogantly blocking the door, which felt utterly ridiculous.
*He's been following that demonic physician around and gotten arrogant.*
There were people like that sometimes.
They followed someone far superior and started mistaking that person's abilities for their own.
*The demonic physician was a peak expert, so I couldn't handle him, but a greenhorn like you—I can cut you down with one stroke.*
Even digging a trap with poison arts was meaningless without the skill to keep the opponent pinned in it.
Baek Chuseo drew his sword and assumed a stance. The Baek Clan Swordsmanship form, Path-Opening Sword.
Internal energy gathered in his dantian flowed into the blade. What followed was a simple yet efficient form unfolding from his hand—no flourishes, no excess.
True to its name of "sword that clears the path," the Path-Opening Sword brimmed with sturdy, unyielding momentum. It might not be the strongest form in the Baek Clan Swordsmanship, but it was undoubtedly the one symbolizing the JeWon Baek Clan and the Sword King.
He felt the poison permeating the room scatter along the sword's movement. Baek Chuseo figured the opponent would either stupidly clash and get cut, or slyly retreat.
But the nameless youth chose a third option. He countered the Path-Opening Sword with a bizarre form.
With fluid wrist movements, the plain sword climbed up Baek Chuseo's blade like ivy. The problem was its speed—far too fast to take lightly.
A slight hesitation would cost him two or three fingers on his right hand, so Baek Chuseo hurriedly withdrew his sword and fell back.
*Soft Sword? No, a Flexible Sword?*
Unlike common sword arts emphasizing power and momentum, this was a rare, freakish form.
Of course, he must have had such hidden skills to dare block the door so boldly.
Baek Chuseo still had room to breathe. He could finish it with the next form.
He unleashed his most confident technique: Meteor Stream. Sword strikes resembling falling stars slashed down diagonally. Unlike the straightforward Path-Opening Sword, this form incorporated variations—trying to counter it with mediocre tricks would cost both arms.
This time, he thrust straight at the opponent's center. The two swords met, forming a strange balance.
Contrary to Baek Chuseo's plan, he neither cleaved the foe in one stroke nor flung him away, but with the blades locked firmly, he'd at least achieved his minimum goal. Baek Chuseo drew up his internal energy and pushed it into his sword.
But his plan to overwhelm with sheer internal energy volume quickly fell apart. Instead, his own qi and blood began to churn chaotically.
*What kind of internal energy is this!*
It wasn't as if he'd consumed transcendent spirit pills, but Baek Chuseo had taken his share of lesser elixirs over the years.
His failure to advance to the next realm so far stemmed from a lack of enlightenment, not insufficient internal energy.
Compared to warriors of similar skill, Baek Chuseo had a respectable amount.
Even if the opponent was superior, he'd only yield in sword subtlety or enlightenment depth. Losing in raw internal energy volume was absurd.
Yet it happened. The energy flowing through their locked swords roiled Baek Chuseo's insides. He retched and staggered back.
In that instant, Baek Chuseo felt a hand grab his hair. The young man yanked his head back.
"Come on. Take a big breath."
With no choice, Baek Chuseo inhaled deeply as he thought: What kind of poison filled the room? One that rotted bones and organs? One that clotted the blood?
Neither. After just two breaths, pain like his lungs tearing apart hit him. It felt like blades rolling around inside his chest. The poison didn't stop there—it seeped under his skin, racing through the meridians of his limbs. His body felt shredded from within.
"Aaagh!"
Baek Chuseo's face flushed red as if about to burst, veins bulging at his temples.
It hurt like he might die any moment, yet he sensed no physical damage. That made it all the more terrifying. It felt like the opponent's sole purpose was to torment him.
Dang Mujin watched Baek Chuseo writhe for a long while.
Only when his eyes rolled back and foam bubbled from his mouth did Dang Mujin crack the door open and shove Baek Chuseo's head outside.
Just as the pain had spread at tremendous speed upon inhaling the poison, it receded just as fast with fresh air.
After two or three breaths, the lung pain vanished; before five breaths passed, over ninety percent of his body's agony faded. The pain he'd felt until now seemed like an illusion, leaving only faint traces.
Tears and snot streaming down his face, Baek Chuseo gasped raggedly.
The torment washing away all at once felt euphoric. The air tasted sweet.
But just before the pain fully vanished, Dang Mujin grabbed his hair again and flung him back inside. He then pressed his foot firmly on Baek Chuseo's back, forcing out the fresh air that had filled his lungs.
Soon, Baek Chuseo's thrashing resumed, even more violently than the first dose of poison.
After a short while, Dang Mujin let him breathe fresh air again, then hurled him back inside.
The demonic physician hadn't taught Dang Mujin this knowledge. It came from studying the poison manual.
The manual detailed not just making and antidoting poisons, but also effectively deploying them—including ways to inflict maximum suffering.
The key was preventing the victim from adapting to the pain.
One could escalate the pain gradually or apply it in irregular cycles. Dang Mujin chose the latter.
Endless pain alone allowed some adaptation over time. But alternating between agony and relief prevented any acclimation.
Moreover, layering psychological terror atop physical torment more than doubled the suffering.
The old Dang Mujin never could have done this, but now he felt no qualms.
Would he act this way toward others in the future? He didn't know. But against Baek Chuseo, he was confident he could inflict pain without mercy.
After repeating the cycle of fresh air and poison seven or eight times, Baek Chuseo was half-mad. He screamed incoherently, clawing at the floor nonstop.
As Dang Mujin moved to let him breathe fresh air and toss him back in, Baek Chuseo jammed his internal energy-infused fingers into the floorboards.
That bought him two gulps of clean air. In that brief respite, his thoughts advanced a step.
*This guy is after Salmak, and I have no loyalty to Salmak.*
Baek Chuseo cut straight to the point. Negotiation was for those worth negotiating with.
"Salmak! Salmak's JeWon branch chief is to the east of JeWon! Behind Jowol Pavilion, in the warehouse—you'll find him there!"
"Yeah. Salmak. Salmak's important too..."
Dang Mujin replied listlessly as he yanked Baek Chuseo. His fingers couldn't withstand Dang Mujin's power.
The floorboards splintered, freeing his fingers, and Dang Mujin calmly tossed Baek Chuseo back inside.
Baek Chuseo twisted again upon inhaling the poison, then flipped his eyes back and frothed at the mouth.
"What do you want from me! Tell me!"
"What I want isn't something you can give just by trying."
"Then kill me!"
"No rush. You've inhaled plenty of poison—you'll die around dawn. And don't think anyone will come rescue you. Everyone in the Manin Wall is fast asleep."
Baek Chuseo trembled violently. Not from fear of death—he'd known he was a dead man since being subdued and poisoned.
The problem was it was evening now, and he'd have to endure this horrific agony until dawn.
In a rasping voice, Baek Chuseo cried out.
"Kill me now—right now! Please!"
Dang Mujin stared silently at Baek Chuseo, recalling the poison manual. When it came to tormenting people, demonic knowledge was unparalleled.
A suitable method came to mind. Dang Mujin seized Baek Chuseo's throat and kicked his lower abdomen viciously. Baek Chuseo's dantian shattered, his internal energy scattering.
"Grk...!"
It must have been immense pain, but Baek Chuseo's reaction was subdued. The poison's torment overshadowed the dantian rupture.
Dang Mujin sat Baek Chuseo upright, righted a table in the room, and bound his upper body to it with a long cord. Baek Chuseo still writhed in agony.
In a low voice, Dang Mujin said,
"If you want even a little relief from the pain sooner, you'd better stay still now."
As he spoke, Baek Chuseo's struggling slowed.
Then Dang Mujin extended his index finger to Baek Chuseo's forehead.
A drop of thick, black poison oozed from his fingertip onto Baek Chuseo's brow.
Next, he drew a dagger and made a tiny cut at the tip of Baek Chuseo's nose.
"What's on your forehead now is essence extracted from the root tuber of Absolute Death Herb. Mix it with blood, and you'll die in seconds. It won't hurt much."
As he rebound Baek Chuseo's arms to the table to prevent movement, Dang Mujin continued.
"Endure without twitching until that poison from your forehead reaches the cut on your nose. Hold out, and you die quick. Squirm and let it flow elsewhere, and you die in far more agony. Simple, right?"
When Dang Mujin finished, Baek Chuseo bulged his eyes and froze.
He couldn't thrash on instinct like before. He had to purely perceive, accept, and endure every sensation.
How excruciating it was—blood vessels burst in his eyes, whites turning crimson; his skin darkened from flushed red.
The sticky poison trickled down far slower than expected.
Yet Baek Chuseo endured with superhuman patience. Not to live, but to die.
And after some time, the poison on his forehead reached the cut on his nose.
Baek Chuseo met death with a grotesque expression blending agony and ecstasy.
Dang Mujin confirmed Baek Chuseo's death and left the JeWon Baek Clan.
*
Stepping outside into the cool breeze, blood finally rushed to his head.
Dang Mujin recalled Baek Chuseo's words.
*East, behind Jowol Pavilion, the warehouse.*
Dang Mujin melted into the darkness, heading east through JeWon.