The Sword Immortal Lu Dongbin
"Whoa... Thousand Poisons Old Man, you absolute con artist..."
Until yesterday, the pitch-black figure had only used the first twelve stances of the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword. Today, it came at me from the very beginning with the latter twelve. The first half was already ridiculously broken, but the second half operated on an entirely different plane of existence.
[Clang!]
The moment I barely blocked the black figure’s opening stance, Heugam-dol, it immediately unleashed the first of the latter half—the thirteenth stance, Infinite Black Shadows.
Old Man Cheon did say that Infinite Black Shadows was a sword formation that combined the third stance, Phantom Illusion Strike, which deploys hundreds of phantom blades, with the ninth stance, Shadowy Night Dance, which uses unpredictable and dazzling footwork.
But was it really normal for simply merging two stances to produce this kind of result?
[Rumble—!]
My vision swam. Hundreds of black afterimages transformed into phantom swords that filled the night sky and hurtled toward me. At the same time, the black figure executed its dazzling footwork and charged alongside those hundreds of blades. Every single one was a real strike, not a feint. They hurtled toward me in a complex, ever-shifting pattern that followed the figure’s movements.
Old Man Cheon… no, that con-artist geezer said…
He definitely told me it changes with a ‘pop!’ here and a ‘pop!’ there…
This wasn’t on the level of simple “pops” at all!
This was just pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! nonstop changes!
[Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa—!]
With a deafening roar like a colossal grinder, the hundreds of blades constantly shifted and spun as they swallowed me whole.
How the hell do I block this? Can it even be blocked?
…This is going to hurt like hell…
[Crash—!]
A massive impact slammed into my eardrums, and my body was torn into hundreds of pieces.
That night, I ultimately died one hundred and fifty times.
I opened my eyes in silence. I was back in the Repentance Cave. Without making a sound, I sat up. The other demon heads seemed to have just woken up as well; they were stretching and preparing to circulate their energy.
“Ugh… I’m so tired. Tired to death.”
Gapjil Jijon must have heard my sigh, because he tossed out a remark.
“A little girl like you is already spouting pathetic nonsense. You need to be past forty before you have the right to say ‘I’m tired’ the moment you wake up.”
When I didn’t respond, Gapjil Jijon grew even more excited and added another jab.
“If you’re ugly, at least try to be healthy. Tsk tsk tsk.”
Normally I would have snapped back, but right now I didn’t have an ounce of strength left. Thousand Poisons Old Man, who had been watching me, asked with concern.
“Madwoman, did you overdo it yesterday? I told you, didn’t I? You need to fully master the first half of the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword before moving on to the latter half so that—”
“Mister Cheon,” I cut him off. “The Dark Heaven-Defying Sword… who created it?”
“Why do you ask? It was passed down from an ancestor of my house…”
“No, no. Who really created it?”
At my pressing, Thousand Poisons Old Man hesitated for a moment. The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. According to Ok-myeon Eum-ma, those who hunted Murim criminals usually possessed incredibly powerful martial arts. That meant the bastards who had beaten me up the first time were supposed to be experts… yet I felt like even if all of them attacked together, they would have been wiped out by a single use of Geomjeong-i’s Infinite Black Shadows last night. The balance was completely off.
I may be great, but I’m also extremely realistic. My mind is impatient, but if my luck is bad I might have to live here for a long while. That’s why I had listened closely while the bored demon heads enthusiastically chattered about the current state of the Murim and the martial prowess of its so-called experts.
That’s how I knew. The stances of the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword went beyond strength—they were excessive. Even though I was still a novice, every time I fought that black bastard in my dreams, it felt like I was battling a god. The few times I managed to block his techniques, it seemed like he was deliberately holding back, adjusting to my level. As if the martial art itself possessed some kind of ego…
…It was a ridiculous thought. According to my extensive knowledge of wuxia novels, no such martial art existed.
“Mister Cheon, you really don’t know? Who created the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword?”
After a long hesitation, Thousand Poisons Old Man let out a deep sigh.
“Haa… I don’t know the exact details. The story I heard from my family elders was simply too… strange. If I told anyone else, they would laugh in my face.”
“I won’t laugh. Look at me. How serious do I look?”
“Sigh, fine. I’ll tell you exactly what I heard from the elders.”
And so Thousand Poisons Old Man began recounting the origin of the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword.
His family, surprisingly, was the Yeom clan. …Huh? Why Yeom instead of Cheon? Then shouldn’t he be called Yeom-dok No-ong instead of Cheondok No-ong? Anyway. The Yeom family—Old Man Cheon’s family—had been a renowned scholarly household for generations. Of course, there were occasional outliers like Old Man Cheon who became Murim criminals. Ah, so that’s why he’s called Cheon instead of Yeom. Maybe he was struck from the family register?
Several hundred years ago, an exceptionally brilliant child was born into Old Man Cheon’s family. His name was Yeom Dong. His talent stood out even among the scholars of his clan, drawing the full attention of the family elders.
One day, while Yeom Dong was walking along a quiet path, an immortal descended from the sky riding a sword and spoke to him. The immortal, who called himself from the Lu family, said, “Your talent is so extraordinary that I wish to take you as my disciple.” Even though the immortal offered to teach him martial arts, Yeom Dong refused, saying, “I am more interested in scholarship than martial arts, so I cannot become your disciple.”
The Lu immortal urged him, saying it was a supreme art that could reach the heavens, but Yeom Dong remained unmoved. Growing angry, the immortal declared, “If you learn my martial arts for ten years and still refuse to call me Master, I will give up at that time.” When Yeom Dong continued to refuse, the immortal flew into a rage, drew his sword, and unleashed a sword aura powerful enough to cleave Mount Tai, declaring, “I will not accept your refusal.”
Left with no choice, Yeom Dong learned the immortal’s martial art, the Heavenly Sword Manual. Ten years later, after mastering it, Yeom Dong firmly stated, “I must enter government service, so I will stop learning martial arts here.”
The Lu immortal sighed and said, “You learned a supreme art that reaches the heavens yet reject the light and embrace the shadows. You refuse an immortal and choose instead to serve a mere human emperor on the ground. What a foolish, black-hearted bastard.”
Then he left these final words:
“…This is no longer the Heavenly Sword Manual. It is the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword.”
With that, he mounted his sword and ascended into the sky.
“…Ridiculous, right? No one in my family believes it.”
Watching the embarrassed Thousand Poisons Old Man, I asked the question that had been bothering me.
“So who was that Lu immortal?”
Thousand Poisons Old Man cleared his throat awkwardly. “Do I really have to go that far…?”
“An immortal named Lu who flies around on a sword—who else could it be? The family elders suspected it was Lu Dongbin.”
“…?”
Huh? Did I hear that wrong?
“Lu Dongbin? You mean… the Sword Immortal Lu Dongbin?”
“Ahem. Yes, that’s what I was told.”
Gapjil Jijon, who had been listening, scoffed.
“What a crazy family. You’re saying the martial art was created by Sword Immortal Lu Dongbin?”
“Ahem… Brother Gapjil. That’s exactly why I didn’t want to tell the story.”
Thousand Poisons Old Man kept clearing his throat in embarrassment.
Sword Immortal Lu Dongbin…
Who was Sword Immortal Lu Dongbin? According to the wuxia novels that every working adult had to read, he was practically a god to martial artists. He was one of the Eight Immortals of Chinese Taoism and the most famous immortal of all. Wasn’t he the very symbol of ultimate strength, a transcendent being who had surpassed humanity?
If the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword was created by Sword Immortal Lu Dongbin, then its absurd power makes sense… but is that even possible?
My consciousness, which should have gone to the past, had instead fallen into this pseudo-wuxia world and possessed an ugly Murim villainess. And now the martial art I learned from a demon head imprisoned in the Repentance Cave just happened to be the one created by Sword Immortal Lu Dongbin? Wasn’t that too much of a coincidence?
I changed the subject and struck at the core.
“Mister Cheon, do you know the mental cultivation method used alongside the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword—the Dark Heaven-Defying Sutra?”
“I have learned it before, but what use would it be without a dantian? It’s not like the Heaven-Shattering Divine Power Art that accumulates qi in the muscles, is it?”
“Just teach it to me anyway. It might be useful.”
It will definitely be useful.
As I pressed Thousand Poisons Old Man, I thought to myself. Last night, while dying one hundred and fifty times, I had seen that the black Pepsi Man’s version of the Dark Heaven-Defying Sword was fundamentally different from mine. A pitch-black energy had roiled from his blade. In contrast, my Dark Heaven-Defying Sword contained no such black energy at all.
No matter how many times I tried in my dreams, I could only imitate the shape.
Of course, it was possible that was simply because my internal energy was too weak. But… it felt like something else was missing. Thousand Poisons Old Man had said he knew both the mental cultivation method, the Dark Heaven-Defying Sutra, and the sword art itself. Perhaps what I lacked was precisely that mental cultivation method that worked in tandem with the sword art.
The problem is that the Dark Heaven-Defying Sutra is a basic mental technique that uses the dantian.
My dantian was shattered. But maybe it could be compatible with the Heaven-Shattering Divine Power Art?
Come to think of it, that was strange. The Heaven-Shattering Divine Power Art had healed my severed meridians and broken arm so quickly—why couldn’t it restore my dantian?
…Ah. Is it because the dantian is an imaginary organ to begin with?
It was a conceptual organ that only existed in wuxia. Perhaps the Heaven-Shattering Divine Power Art, which restored physical bodies, simply couldn’t affect it. In that case, it was even more important to understand the principle of the Dark Heaven-Defying Sutra and try grafting it onto the Heaven-Shattering Divine Power Art.
“Mister Cheon, teach it to me quickly. I’m dizzy.”
“If you’re dizzy, you should rest… No, never mind. I’ll teach you right now.”
Oh~ Mister Cheon, your ability to read the room has improved a lot.
Yes. A person needs to have tact. Without tact, how could they be called human? I smiled with satisfaction at Thousand Poisons Old Man’s excellent response.
*******************
Hye-yul’s mornings were busy. He normally began the day with energy circulation, but lately he had been devoting himself to studying the scriptures. From his quiet quarters a short distance from the main temple grounds, he heard someone approaching.
He set down the Lotus Sutra he had been reading and rose to open the door.
[Bang!]
Before Hye-yul could reach it, the visitor threw the door wide open. A giant, muscular bald monk with a stiff black beard—Hye-yul’s master, Hyeon-jung. Despite being close in age to the abbot, he looked like a middle-aged man thanks to his firm beard and lack of wrinkles. One of the current Murim’s three Profound Realm experts and known as the “Mad Martial Grandmaster” for his eccentric personality, he had come to visit his disciple’s quarters after a long time.
“Master, what brings you here?” Hye-yul hurriedly greeted him.
“Hahaha! I heard a strange rumor. They say a ‘living Buddha’ has appeared in Shaolin.”
“Pardon?”
When Hye-yul looked puzzled, Hyeon-jung patted his disciple’s shoulder heavily.
“I heard you’ve been studying the Buddhist scriptures so diligently lately. That is truly commendable. A monk’s true duty is to serve the Buddha with sincerity and follow his teachings. Your conduct is right and proper.”
“…That is—”
“First, let us sit. How long do you intend to keep your master standing?”
“Ah! Please sit. This disciple will prepare tea.”
Hye-yul pulled out a chair as he spoke.
“What use does a monk have for such luxuries as tea? Don’t you have any alcohol?”
Hye-yul’s expression grew troubled at his master’s joke.
“Master…”
“Hahaha, I’m only teasing. Let us have some barley tea.”
Many people in the Central Plains did not even consider barley tea to be proper tea, but it was still tea nonetheless. Hye-yul brought out his wind stove, added charcoal, and made sure the airflow was good. This stove had been a gift from his master, Hyeon-jung, who had been overjoyed when Hye-yul reached the Peak realm two years ago and had splurged on it. Since it was an item usually used by the wealthy and powerful, it had been rather burdensome for Hye-yul, who had been a heavenly orphan. Still, since he had it, he could not brew expensive tea and instead drank barley tea.
When he set the warmly heated barley tea before his master, Hyeon-jung laughed heartily and said, “There is no tea more delicious than warm barley tea.”
“I heard that you, who used to think only of martial arts all day, have recently devoted yourself to studying the scriptures.” Hyeon-jung took a sip and asked, “Did the Buddha’s heart awaken in you late? Or… has the demon heart entered you instead?”
The demon heart—the temptation of worldly desires that obstructed the Buddha’s enlightenment.
“N-no, Master. It is simply that there is something this disciple does not understand, so please do not worry.”
In truth, the naked image of the Blood Hand Witch kept flashing before his eyes, and he had turned to the scriptures to suppress that torment… but he could not possibly tell his master that.
“Now, now. Speak concretely. What is it that you find so difficult to understand?”
“…What I see is beautiful, yet others say it is ugly… I have been pondering why that is.”
“Who said such a thing? Tell me in detail.”
After hesitating at Hyeon-jung’s question, Hye-yul answered in a fluster.
“I… see the Blood Hand Witch imprisoned in the Repentance Cave as having a beautiful face, but others say she is ugly… so I found it strange…”
Even Hye-yul, who usually maintained perfect equanimity, would lose his composure whenever the Blood Hand Witch was involved. It was truly mysterious.
On the other hand, the greatest expert under heaven, Hyeon-jung, was equally bewildered by his disciple’s answer.
…Blood Hand Witch? Who is that? Is he talking about the wicked woman who was recently imprisoned in the Repentance Cave?
What does it matter whether she is beautiful or ugly?
Anyone imprisoned in Shaolin’s Repentance Cave was a notorious demon head whose evil name rang throughout the Murim. What did the appearance of such a person matter? They were no different from demons wearing human masks anyway.
Watching the usually calm Hye-yul look so flustered, Hyeon-jung felt a complicated emotion.
…Is this Blood Hand Witch truly such a great beauty?
Well… the boy has reached the age where he is sensitive to the opposite sex.
Even though Shaolin was the pillar of the orthodox Murim and the center of Buddhism in the Central Plains, it was still a place where people lived. It was only natural for young monks who had entered the temple as children to become interested in the opposite sex once their blood began to boil. That was precisely why Shaolin strictly forbade women. If a young monk came into contact with the opposite sex, it often went beyond simple curiosity and could shake them to their core. It was not uncommon for young monks who returned from excursions in the Murim to struggle to regain their composure for quite some time. The elder monks of Shaolin had all gone through such a period themselves and understood it, so they would sometimes scold, sometimes emphasize the Buddha’s teachings, and help the young monks steady their hearts.
I had forgotten because he never showed any signs… but Hye-yul is also a young man with boiling blood.
Hyeon-jung smiled gently. His disciple, who had grown so much and was now a proper young man beginning to experience worldly desires, was both admirable and worrying.
Hehe, it has finally come.
Hyeon-jung lightly flicked his disciple’s smooth, shiny head.
[Thwack!]
“If it looks beautiful in your eyes, then it is beautiful. Why would you care about what others see? Hahaha!”
Hyeon-jung continued with a booming laugh.
“You fool! No matter how beautiful she is, how could you let your eyes be stolen by a Murim villainess? If it had been a fine young lady from the righteous faction, I could understand, but this—”
To Hyeon-jung it had been a ‘light’ flick, but how could a flick from a Profound Realm expert be light? Rubbing his head, Hye-yul protested with a wronged expression.
“Master! This disciple’s eyes were not stolen! It is simply that the appearance of the Blood Hand Witch I see and the appearance others describe are so completely different… I was worried that there might be something wrong with my eyes or my mind!”
“…Hm?”
The smile vanished from Hyeon-jung’s face.
The appearance… is different?
Hye-yul himself did not yet know about the special power his eyes possessed. But Hyeon-jung knew. His disciple Hye-yul was the owner of the Delusion-Breaker Eye, which could shatter lies and illusions and see the truth. Hyeon-jung himself had possessed the same eye since childhood; that was how he had recognized the true worth of the heavenly orphan beggar boy and brought him to Shaolin to become his disciple. It was a rare ocular power that might appear only once in an era. Those who possessed the Delusion-Breaker Eye always walked the righteous path in their martial training and pursued truth. It was the greatest possible talent for learning martial arts. In real combat, they could perfectly distinguish between feints and real strikes and see through an opponent’s true intentions.
If it were simply a case of a young man’s heart being clouded by affection and seeing a wicked woman as beautiful, that would be understandable.
But if the appearance Hye-yul sees is different from what others see…
Hyeon-jung’s eyes sharpened.
It means that the Blood Hand Witch is using some kind of disguise technique or illusion art to deceive others!
The Delusion-Breaker Eye had seen through it, which was why only Hye-yul could see her ‘true appearance.’
A mere prisoner in the Repentance Cave—why would she go so far as to change her appearance to deceive others?
It must mean she is hiding some other scheme!
Hyeon-jung asked in a low voice.
“…It is that different?”
“Yes, Master. It was so different that it felt strange.”
Hyeon-jung shot to his feet.
“Then I shall go see for myself and make a judgment. Let us go right now.”
“Pardon? R-right now, Master?”
Hye-yul asked in a fluster.
“Indeed.”
“But Master, it will soon be time to deliver the evening meal to the demon heads. Would it not be better to stop by the Incense Accumulation Hall first?”
“…Hm. Let us do that.”
Hyeon-jung nodded.