182. Rescue (7)
Rescue (7)
182. Rescue (7)
Not long before, when I had summoned Moon Immortal into Son Yeong through the Spirit Possession Art, the martial prowess she had displayed had exceeded my imagination. Son Yeong was a mere second-rate fighter. But with Moon Immortal inside her, even a decent first-rate master would have struggled to guarantee victory against her. The Spirit Possession Art was a far more powerful method than the Spirit Vessel Art, which merely imitated the Qi-Guided Sword. But this method required a few conditions.
First, the physiques had to be similar. And second, the internal energy of the body had to be familiar to the spirit. In that regard, Son Yeong and Moon Immortal had shown an outstanding compatibility, and this pair was probably no different. Ok-cheong had always struck me as more of a Daoist than a martial artist, but he was still an elder of the Wudang Sect—the strongest sect in the Martial World—and a bona fide first-rate master. Compared to the Flame Emperor of the past, who had squeezed out a measly ten years' worth of incompatible internal energy and spent all night performing the lightness skill, the difference was like heaven and earth.
"I shall take the lead. It has been so long that there is no time even to greet an ancient rival and a distant descendant."
"Huh... Ancestral Master Heo San?"
The sight of Hyeon-gang so astonished was quite a spectacle to behold, but as expected, there was no time.
"Heosan? It really is Heosan? Kahahahaha!!! You never cease to entertain me! To think there are arts for manipulating souls other than the Blood Cult's Soul-Separation Spell!"
Whether it was fond nostalgia or mocking contempt, I couldn't tell. Goshifa Lama laughed louder than ever as he drew up his energy. Damn it. Did he still have energy left to raise?
He, who had always calmly waited for our attacks, finally switched to the offensive and descended upon us with a force so overwhelming it was mind-boggling. It felt as though he might truly cleave the entire world apart with that monstrous greatsword. Calmly, Heosan unfolded his sect's ultimate art, the Wuji Sword, against him.
Limitless—the point from which Taiji was born. If Taiji could return ten units of force with one, Limitless swallowed a hundred with one. But Goshifa Lama's pitch-black Sword Aura contained hundreds, thousands of units of force—too much for Heosan's Limitless alone. Directly behind him, Hyeon-gang unfolded Limitless as well, and their resonating manifestations expanded enormously. When I finally added myself as the third axis, Goshifa Lama's onslaught, which had seemed impossible for human strength to stop, began to be swallowed by Limitless.
The Limitless that enveloped Goshifa Lama achieved what even ten Sword Auras together had utterly failed to do. Yet despite that overwhelming defensive performance, unease crept in. Limitless consumed far more internal energy than I had expected. Even if it was less draining than Sword Aura, maintaining it was no joke. Once my Limitless ended, the resonance would weaken, and that would be the end of us. Knowing this, Geo Am and Moon Immortal circled Goshifa Lama, constantly distracting him, while the Flame Emperor tried to strike with his Yama King Sword whenever a gap opened. But just as the Four Heroes excelled at coordinated assaults, Goshifa Lama was immensely experienced at fighting multiple opponents and calmly denied the three of us and the three bound spirits every opening.
Moreover, Limitless was not a simple technique one unleashed once and left alone. We had to follow and respond constantly to his insane, ever-changing movements. Goshifa Lama moved at a speed that made me question whether he was even human. No—he definitely wasn't human. Heosan blocked his advance with minimal movements that matched that speed, which made calling him human a little questionable as well. Yet Hyeon-gang calmly kept pace with both of them. As long as a real, living human could produce such movements, like it or not, I too had to keep moving with Limitless.
A single mistake would mean death for the three of us. In this life-or-death situation, I fell into extreme focus, and even I—who had always thought myself unfit to be a martial artist—began to feel my heart truly pounding in this battle.
So this was it. This was the realm of the master—the domain only the greatest martial artists of an era could ever experience. Like the runner's high that marathoners speak of, a narcotic euphoria surged up in this life-threatening situation. Whether it was adrenaline or dopamine, the chemicals released recklessly in my brain made my body move a step ahead of the impossible movements—faster than I could think.
If my true qi ran out first, we lost. If the Flame Emperor's Yama King Sword landed an effective blow before that, we won. Under those simple conditions, the taut struggle suddenly reached a strangely hollow end. Goshifa Lama hurled away his greatsword, gathered a strange Hand Aura around both hands, and began glowing brilliant white. Then, as if exploding, his body scattered into shimmering blue light and ascended into the sky on the spot.
As we stood gaping at the motionless body left behind—no, the corpse of the Great Sun Association Leader—pride-filled laughter rang out from the White Feather Fan I kept safely nestled against my chest.
—Kahahaha! I did it! I really did it! Just because a body and a spirit are present doesn't mean it's a living being. All we had to do was send the vengeful spirit onward! What do you think, Yeongmok? Our Yeongsan Sect's Soul-Ascension Art has finally saved the world!!—
The Soul-Ascension Art. Right. Among the Spirit-Binding Arts, in addition to the Spirit-Summoning Art that called spirits, the Spirit Vessel Art that bound them into objects, and the Spirit Possession Art that let them inhabit a body, there was also the Soul-Ascension Art, which sent spirits onward... I understood that he was drunk on the accomplishment of defeating an enemy whom even the greatest masters of past and present could not handle, using his own Taoist art. But what the hell was I supposed to do with this buoyant exhilaration that had nowhere to go?
"What... what happened? What in the world just happened?"
Having been preparing a strike far more powerful than the greatsword itself, Hyeon-gang stared at what was unmistakably a corpse, then turned his head to me and asked.
"Well... um. I sent him onward. He ascended."
"Ascended? Huh... Taoist arts truly are remarkable. I genuinely thought this was the end. So, is the fight over now?"
"Yes."
Hyeon-gang was a martial artist through and through. It was a relief to save his life, but as one of the Martial World's greatest masters, when would he ever again get to fight such a life-or-death battle? Behind the relief on his face, emptiness was unmistakably hidden.
"It's belated, but allow me to pay my respects now. I am Hyeon-gang, a Seventh-Generation Disciple of Wudang. Ancestral Master, please accept my bow."
Like it or not, the situation was over. As Hyeon-gang moved to offer a deep bow to Heosan, Heosan stopped him with one hand and spoke with a solemn face.
"This body is your martial nephew. How can you bow to the body of your martial nephew? Besides, it isn't over yet."
Heosan rummaged through Ok-cheong's robes, pulled out the talismans he had made a large batch of earlier, and with a flourish worthy of Hwangseong himself, stuck a talisman onto the corpse. In that instant, the body of the Great Sun Association Leader—the body Goshifa Lama had been using—crumbled into dust and scattered.
—Hwangseong. Hurry and release the possession!—
The solemn expression aside, Heosan called for Hwangseong urgently.
—Did something happen? I thought you wanted to speak with the descendants of Wudang while you had the chance?—
—I did! I wanted to show off a bit as Heosan, the Third-Generation Disciple of Wudang, in front of the cute young Wudang Daoists like Yeongok or Hyang-a! But look at this—I died at eighty, and now this hundred-year-old relic is calling me Ancestral Master this, Reverend that! Hurry up and release the possession!—
Come to think of it, when we had met the Wudang Daoists before, Heosan had been oddly unenthusiastic, hadn't he? He'd spent eighty years of his life in the all-male Wudang Sect, but recently, dealing only with the adorable Master and Jeong-hyang in the predominantly female Yeongsan Sect, he'd turned into a doting grandpa who was now uncomfortable around fellow old men. For someone who put on such a solemn front, he was secretly quite hilarious.
At Heosan's request, Hwangseong released the possession, and Ok-cheong slowly came back to his senses.
"Whoa! That was an incredible experience. The Wuji Sword... I think I can roughly imitate it now.
"Oh-ho. Now that I see it, this is how you learned Taiji and Limitless too! That secret manual you said you obtained—it was actually the spirits of the Four Heroes of Dong-o!"
Having just come through the intense experience, Ok-cheong had deduced the true nature of the Spirit-Binding Art with frightening accuracy.
"Please keep it a secret."
"Of course. Taoist arts are a Daoist's stock-in-trade—if this gets out, I'd have to close up shop! But tell me, where in the world did you obtain such a wondrous art? Is it a legacy of Maoshan? No. There's no way. If it were, Yeongsan would already be bigger than Wudang. In that case, this Taoist art must be the fated encounter you received—the one you mentioned?"
This old man. Even after achieving victory against the legendary Goshifa Lama, he was now utterly captivated by the Spirit-Binding Art.
"Our sect's founder, Reverend Hwangseong, left it behind. However, it was an incomplete art that no one except me, someone with a unique constitution, could use."
"Unique constitution?"
As Ok-cheong's eyes sparkled brighter and he drew closer to me, Hyeon-gang finally spoke up.
"That's enough. Is this not a sect's secret tradition? And besides, we must first attend to the injured and unconscious!"
At Hyeon-gang's words, Ok-cheong seemed to think, Ah, right. He rushed over to Iseong and Tang Woo, helped them up, placed his hands on their backs, and began aiding the circulation of their qi.
"Senior Martial Uncle! I have a request."
What a remarkable talent. How could he speak while helping someone else circulate their qi? And doing it for two people at once?
"What is it?"
Hyeon-gang, who was helping Murong Guk and Hye-gwang circulate their qi with one hand each, answered indifferently.
"The Yeongsan Sect is a Daoist temple too, isn't it? Please send me to study there."
"Study? You are eighty years old. Does studying abroad even make sense at your age?"
"What does age have to do with learning?"
"Ok-cheong! Show some dignity! The Yeongsan Sect is a sect of young juniors. Their Sect Leader is a mere young lady barely past thirty! And besides, what's so endearing about you that the Yeongsan Sect should teach you their Taoist arts?"
"If I can only learn the Taoist arts, I can just teach them a few martial techniques in return."
"Martial techniques?!"
"Anyway, since Ancestral Master Heo San is staying there, Yeongsan will learn the Great Clarity Internal Art and the Taiji Wisdom Sword, won't they? I may be useless at martial arts myself, but isn't my teaching top-notch?"
Ridiculous. This conversation between the two old men was like a comedy skit. An elder of Wudang, the Mount Tai of the Martial World, saying he was useless at martial arts?
"Exactly as you said. The Yeongsan Sect Leader's Great Clarity Internal Art is purer than even mine. With Ancestral Master Heo San residing at Yeongsan Sect, what possible use could your shoddy Great Clarity Internal Art be to them? And furthermore, if you have a request, you should make it to the Sect Leader. Why are you asking me?"
"Because Senior Brother, the Sect Leader, would obviously oppose it! He crammed the Martial Alliance command onto me saying I'm the only one among the Ok-generation elders with time on my hands. But if you, Senior Martial Uncle, give your permission, then Senior Brother will have no choice, will he?
"No, wait. Yeongmok! Summon the Ancestral Master again. If I just get the Ancestral Master's permission outright, both Senior Martial Uncle and Senior Brother will send me without a word of protest."
Reverend Ok-cheong had a charm slightly different from Hyeon-gang's. Seeing him act so unbefitting of his age and station drew a quiet chuckle out of me.
—No! All this time I've been bragging endlessly about Wudang to Yeongok. You must absolutely not accept a wretch like him!—
Heosan's voice was practically a scream. Even after once again defeating Goshifa Lama, his lifelong nemesis, he was utterly at a loss over his descendant's disgraceful display. What a relief. Whether it felt hollow or not, we had barely survived this desperate night. Because we had survived, we could laugh. Compared to the situation just minutes ago, when we had steeled ourselves for death, the cute senility of an eighty-year-old man seemed nothing more than ridiculous.