The Weight of Three Hundred Years
Creak—
Creeeak—
The restriction placed upon the soul of the Six-Finger Old Monster was being torn away in real-time.
The sickening sound of his spirit and flesh being ripped apart like raw rags echoed vividly.
Oh!
This was undoubtedly the price of recklessly exerting his power while bound by a restriction.
The backlash had triggered a massive, violent backflow of energy.
"To think he was deceiving the heavens by forcibly suppressing his own realm. It seems he must be punished."
Ilyang stopped in his tracks.
He looked up at the transparent fist hurtling down toward him.
Since they were inside a bi-gyeong, the Six-Finger Old Monster had likely unleashed his limits with some degree of freedom.
But really.
Perhaps he could get away with it once, but doing it twice in a row was out of the question.
The loosening of his soul's connection was already plain to see.
He must have panicked when he realized his secret was exposed.
Yet, he must have known that resorting to such force at his own expense was a self-destructive move.
And unfortunately for him, his opponent is the worst possible match.
Ilyang slowly extended both hands upward, bidding farewell to the Six-Finger Old Monster, who was now too far away to be seen.
"It seems the people of this world are entirely ignorant of anti-magic. Even so, you are far too hasty."
Ilyang grinned.
He then slowly expanded his own mental world, gently making contact with the Six-Finger Old Monster's mental world—specifically, the transparent giant's hand.
The moment they connected.
My, my...
Ilyang focused on the scene unfolding before his eyes.
This was the mental world of the Six-Finger Old Monster.
It was an ancient bookstore.
An old, second-hand bookstore completely untouched by human hands.
A landscape resembling ancient, decrepit books left abandoned in a corner for an incredibly long time, gathering thick layers of dust.
This was the result of cultivating with all his heart and soul for an immense period.
A mental realm elevated by those long years of cultivation was conveyed so vividly it felt almost tangible.
It is certainly firm and solid.
Compared to the girl from the Mansi Sect he had encountered before, the gap between their mental worlds was as vast as the heavens and the earth.
However.
The gap in mental worlds is a matter of perspective.
The judgment changes the moment the subject of comparison changes.
For the solidity and height of a mental realm are inherently relative.
"Agh!"
The Six-Finger Old Monster clutched his heart, his entire body trembling violently.
"Elder? No, what on earth is wrong with you all of a sudden? Yes? Are you hurt? This wasn't part of the plan! Please, don't do this. You're scaring me!"
While Paeng Cheon-u fussed about with a panicked expression,
the Six-Finger Old Monster barely managed to lift his head, thick veins bulging across his entire face.
"Ggggh... Grrrk!"
He strained his bloodshot, bulging eyes to glare at someone far, far away.
In his vision, a stark white room unfolded.
In that room, a young man dressed in strange, unfamiliar attire was staring straight at him, smiling.
The youth mouthed the words:
You pushed yourself too hard.
Go Se-geuk, the Six-Finger Old Monster.
From the eyes and nose of this man, who might very well be the strongest living being in the Lower Realm, dark blood began to stream.
For the glory of the Mosan Sect, he had willingly accepted the cracking of his own soul. He had torn his entire spirit and flesh into shreds to drastically reduce its size, pierced the torn pieces with the fires of hell, and bound them tightly together with chains at regular intervals to keep them from drifting apart.
This was an act and a decision that no ordinary mindset could achieve.
The pain of a tearing soul was of a kind that defied imagination.
Thus, while maintaining the original size of his soul, Go Se-geuk had folded each torn piece neatly over one another, deceiving the laws of the world so that from the heavens, it appeared as a small, insignificant soul.
Even as he endured the criticism and contempt of both martial artists and cultivators, he had hidden his fangs until the very end.
I cannot ascend... not before creating a legacy for our sect.
Regrettably, the Mosan Sect possessed no legacy that could connect them to their ancestors.
Because of this, they were always second-rate, never having opened a sky of their own.
Thus, they had been utterly looked down upon by other immortal sects since ancient times.
But this was not merely a matter of being ignored or ridiculed.
It is a matter of our sect's survival.
Go Se-geuk, the Six-Finger Old Monster.
He had to do something for the future, no matter what.
And so, for a very long time, he monopolized the sect's resources, swallowing up the newly entered future of the sect—the diverse, brilliant talents—with tears in his eyes.
For the sake of the legacy, this is but a minor sacrifice.
Forcing himself to turn away from the miserable reality, he bloated the grade of his soul and became a monster.
Solely for the great legacy of the Mosan Sect, he had secretly and relentlessly gathered resources.
The hardship of that process was something that could never be fully expressed in mere words.
Deceiving the heavens while simultaneously cutting through the competition of countless cultivator sects, he had gathered the resources and materials to forge the Mosan Sect's unique legacy in this harsh Lower Realm.
And he had done so for three hundred years!
If only I could manage things well in this bi-gyeong. If only I did, everything would have fallen into place!
The goal was right before his eyes.
If he could just get past this hurdle, the legacy would be made, and he could free himself from his shackles and ascend beautifully.
Or was it not?
Had a heavenly tribulation found him in this manner because he had defied the will of heaven?
He did not know. Even the Six-Finger Old Monster could not fathom that far.
His consciousness gradually faded.
He felt as though his soul was being sucked into something residing within that glowing space.
As the Six-Finger Old Monster collapsed to the ground, unable to utter even a single scream, his soul being torn away in real-time,
Ilyang, on the contrary, was experiencing an irrepressible sense of fullness and satisfaction.
What a stroke of luck.
The moment their mental worlds connected, Ilyang immediately realized that Go Se-geuk, the Six-Finger Old Monster, had lived for over three hundred years deceiving the heavens, accepting the grinding down of his own soul to forge the Mosan Sect's legacy.
Just how tenaciously and viciously he had gathered power and resources was written down in detail within the old books of his mental world.
He exceeded his natural lifespan, desperately suppressing his power to survive.
He was truly a pitiful creature.
Because he had suppressed his power for so long and lowered his own grade, his actual weight class had dropped to an absurd degree.
Naturally, under normal circumstances, Ilyang should not have stood a chance.
No, normally, the gap was so vast that a fight would not have even been possible.
But since he lowered his own weight class, how wonderful is this?
He had even gone out of his way to attack first.
From Ilyang's perspective, this was no different from a treasure rolling right into his lap.
A battle within the mental world.
This was virtually the only way to rapidly expand one's mental strength and soul size in a short period.
This is a delicacy incomparable to that Mansi Sect brat from before.
To use an easy analogy, it was as if a massive elephant had walked whole into the mouth of a lizard as small as a finger.
Normally, the lizard's stomach should have burst, killing it.
However, Ilyang's comprehension was already at an overwhelming level.
His vessel did not rupture; instead, it grew at a rapid pace.
Even now, fireworks were continuously exploding inside his head.
Standing still in the middle of the desert, Ilyang was frantically devouring the endless influx of highly refined soul fragments.
Normally, it would be standard to waste more than half of it due to indigestion.
However, the red fox connected to Ilyang's soul, Geum-ok, assisted greatly in the absorption, drastically boosting the efficiency.
"Aaaagh..."
Of course, Geum-ok was also trembling violently, unable to adapt to the sudden tidal wave of spiritual growth.
With his eyes half-closed, Ilyang stood in the middle of the desert, rapidly swallowing Go Se-geuk's soul fragments and advancing through the stages.
So the vessel itself can grow independently.
Apart from his soul's comprehension, the feeling of the vessel that held his imagery and mental power expanding was undeniably pleasant.
A moment later.
When Ilyang opened his eyes, Cheol Mu-geuk came into view, wearing a complex expression.
"Congratulations," Cheol Mu-geuk said.
"Thank you."
"You have gone to a place I can no longer hope to reach, my young friend."
When Ilyang had stopped, stared up at the sky, and suddenly trembled all over, Cheol Mu-geuk had instinctively recognized it as a moment of enlightenment.
At the same time, he felt an undeniable pang of jealousy rise from the depths of his heart.
However.
What use is there in coveting what was never mine to begin with?
Cheol Mu-geuk's cultivation was not so shallow.
His nature was not so wicked as to covet another's gains, and he knew how to maintain his honor and dignity.
Thus, he quietly stood guard over Ilyang.
Though they were quite a distance away, he was prepared to actively intervene if anyone from the Wulin Alliance approached to cause trouble.
Fortunately, it seemed some sort of emergency had occurred within the Wulin Alliance as well.
They gathered among themselves and headed elsewhere.
Ilyang did not budge from his spot until another half-day had passed and evening set in.
Only when a new morning dawned did Ilyang finally manage to stabilize his growth.
Gently stroking Geum-ok, who was still twitching all over, unable to fully regain her senses, he spoke.
"Shall we go, senior?"
"Lead the way."
"Understood."
Ilyang strode forward with a smile.
Watching his retreating figure, Cheol Mu-geuk was suddenly seized by a powerful conviction.
We no longer have any need to hide and skulk around this place.
He did not know how many masters and spellcasters had gathered here, but Cheol Mu-geuk felt absolutely no worry, regardless of what they might try to pull.