Peach's Jianghu Preparation - 3
Humanity's innate biological limits. What must one do to overcome them? Humans have long pondered how to grow stronger while burdened with their inherently frail bodies. A human armed with a gun can fell even the king of Africa, the elephant. Yet the same person will cry out in pain from a mere needle prick, or shed tears after stubbing a toe on a doorstep. That is humanity. That is the limit of the flesh.
"Martial arts are the distilled essence of techniques humans have contemplated and refined across the ages," Grandfather Changma declared, the answer rolling off his tongue even as he calmly received treatment for his torn-off fingers.
"Techniques?"
"Through repeated training and study, techniques are born and perfected."
They exist to surpass the limits of the body. To break free of the species' constraints. That is what techniques—and the martial arts—are at their core.
"No matter how diligently a human trains, they cannot match even a single swipe from a great tiger's paw."
"Tigers are scary, huh."
"Hahaha!"
Techniques are the very essence of life, invented by humans who realized from birth that their physical strength was lacking. Unless one trains in external arts—body-tempering martial arts—basic physical power remains roughly the same for everyone here. Even external arts are only practiced in the early stages for the sake of a healthy body; few martial artists make them their primary discipline.
"No matter how much you temper your external arts, you'll only become a slow, sturdy turtle. They may survive as prey, but they can never become predators."
It was an answer born from an early understanding of human limits. That was why their focus lay not on external arts, but on the breathing methods known as internal cultivation—accumulating inner energy in the dantian and wielding it through qi techniques.
By directing the formless force called inner energy toward the feet, one could achieve explosive bursts of speed. Adding inner energy to ordinary strikes could turn them into devastating blows. Yet true, sustained physical enhancement remained impossible. That was the limit of being human.
"The breathing method that circulates that formless inner energy is what we call a heart method."
"Heart methods differ in efficiency too, right?"
"Heh, of course. The inner energy gained from sixty years of steady use of the common circulation method found in the marketplace is called one gapja. What we possess is a heart method of an entirely different quality."
"Oho!"
"For example, that poison old man over there spreads toxins in every direction to cultivate his inner energy."
Even among the cultivation methods known as inner-energy heart methods, efficiency varied. The same held true for the sword arts, fist techniques, and other offensive methods that utilized the accumulated inner energy. Some gained only one gapja after sixty years of cultivation, while others obtained three. Some could barely scratch a great tree with ten percent of their inner energy, while others could cleave it clean through.
"If the efficiency gap is that extreme, then security around martial arts must be incredibly important."
"Correct. You understand ten things from hearing one. The jianghu is a place where a single martial art can casually claim the lives of hundreds."
Within the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, higher strength meant higher rank. That meant Grandfather Changma, who could speak so casually with the Cult Leader, held quite a high position himself. The spear he wielded weighed nine kilograms—roughly the weight of a lightweight barbell. Considering that ordinary cold weapons weighed around one kilogram, it was extraordinarily heavy. In a world of glass cannons where even the slightest graze could be fatal, wielding such a heavy weapon with agility required far more than an ordinary body. Realizing this made my head spin. I was starting to understand why they made such a fuss about being gods or whatever.
People got injured while training alone, injured during sparring, injured while settling petty disputes.
"Is everyone here a patient?"
"You understand eleven things now."
I was speechless.
"Ahem!"
Grandfather Changma must have felt my stare, because he coughed and looked away.
"All done. Try moving it."
He clenched and unclenched his fingers, then nodded.
"Oho, it's fine. Your medical skill has reached the heavens. You truly are a Divine Physician."
"I should have warned you earlier. I'm sorry. It seems like that divine weapon or whatever only recognizes its master."
"Haha, I'm all right. It was my own carelessness. How could I let a child apologize?"
It had simply been the weight. I hadn't wanted to lie, but there was no other way to make him understand. If he hadn't grabbed the Yeouigeumgobong—a weapon closer to a mass weapon—his fingers wouldn't have been reduced to tatters.
"By the way, why has your hair turned white?"
"It seems injuries from that staff don't heal easily. So I had to draw on a bit more power."
Only after becoming Baek Do-hwa could I finally heal. When Sun Wukong swung the Yeoui, he would panic and grab a nearby tree branch to block it lightly. This must have been why.
"It's made of something called divine steel."
"Hmm, never heard of it."
"Apparently it was forged to beat gods to death."
Regardless of its material, the Yeouigeumgobong was something no one could swing no matter how strong they were. Even if one forcibly lifted the 13,500-geun Yeoui and tried to swing it, the ground would cave in or one's legs would give out from slipping. That was why mu-a—the state of no-self—was necessary. To erase one's own existence, and beyond that, to forget even oneself. It was the same principle used when employing the Geunduun Sul. If Heracles was my close-combat teacher, then Sun Wukong was my study teacher who taught me how to govern the mind.
"This grandfather can't touch weapons, so there's nothing for it. I'll correct your posture, so try attacking once."
"You want me to attack you, Grandfather? That's a bit..."
"Hahaha! With a heart that soft, surviving in the jianghu will be difficult."
Contrary to his words, he gently stroked my head with affection. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to kill someone who cared for me.
"There's no helping it."
The moment Grandfather Changma finished speaking, someone appeared silently beside me.
"You called."
"Yes. Cross blades with this child once."
At the grandfather's words, the suddenly appeared man turned his gaze toward me. From his appearance alone, he looked to be in his thirties.
"This is the youngest of the Changma Unit, a subordinate force of the Changhon Unit."
"Ah, neng. Hello."
"A pleasure, young lady. I am Song Gwang-mu of the Gwancheon Spear. I belong to the Changma Unit."
"I'm Han Ga-eul. I don't belong anywhere."
"...Understood."
With that lukewarm reply, the conversation ended quickly.
"Grandfather, do I really have to fight him for real? He's not even an enemy."
"Just test each other's hand speed once."
"Umm..."
"Why, do you not want to?"
"No. It's just..."
Without answering, Grandfather Changma stroked my head once more before stepping back to create distance.
"Begin!"
I suppose there's no choice. The moment I made up my mind, a wind path opened.
Kwa-gwa-ga-gak—!
With a single step, a raging gale surged forth.
Iljin Gwangpung (One Gust of Mad Wind).
Pouring strength into my legs and kicking off, my body shot forward as if the ground itself were folding.
***
Song Gwang-mu of the Changma Unit and Han Ga-eul stood facing each other with distance between them. The elders who had been watching them began retreating to observe the situation.
"Begin!"
Changma shouted toward the two who had only been staring at each other. At the same time, a wind path formed in front of Han Ga-eul.
"What in the world is that..."
"I've never seen it either. It must be some form of immortal technique the child has learned."
They had no idea what fighting meant to Han Ga-eul. To her, fighting meant killing or maiming.
"Her stance is peculiar as well."
Han Ga-eul lowered her waist lightly. At the same time, she shot forward like the wind.
Paaang—!!
As Han Ga-eul launched herself forward at tremendous speed, the resulting recoil sent a stinging gust of wind toward the elders who had been keeping their distance.
"Fast..."
"An extraordinary lightness skill."
The gap between the two, who had maintained considerable distance, closed before one could even blink. Song Gwang-mu of the Gwancheon Spear felt his heart drop. The moment Changma gave the signal to begin, the woman with peach-colored hair had appeared right in front of him.
'Huh, when...!'
He had joined the Changma Unit—a subordinate force of the Changhon Unit—at a mere early thirties, and those around him never hesitated to praise him as an unparalleled genius. That was why he had approached this lightly. But when Song Gwang-mu saw the trajectory of the fist tearing through the wind toward him, all he could do was barely tilt his head back.
'If I can't dodge, I'm dead...!!'
Before he could even finish the thought, an immense pain shot through his knee.
Kwa-jik!
"Kugh!!?"
Han Ga-eul, who had been throwing a punch, had followed through by kicking his knee as if shoving him away. As a result, Song Gwang-mu's leg bent backward before being torn off and sent flying.
"Wait!!"
Kwa-ga-gak!
Once again, Han Ga-eul's fist flew toward his face. As Song Gwang-mu watched it with a hollow expression, Changma's thunderous voice reached his ears first.
"Ah, what a pity."
'What is...?'
He had already lost his leg. Just what was there to pity? Unable to voice the question, Song Gwang-mu could only think it inwardly when Han Ga-eul's muttering voice belatedly reached him.
"I could've pulled it out."
Han Ga-eul's hand had stopped right in front of Song Gwang-mu's eyeball.
"......"
There was something neither Song Gwang-mu nor the watching elders knew. Even if a creature called a demon race scratched with all its might using its claws, it couldn't even leave a scratch on Han Ga-eul's skin. Yet when Han Ga-eul shot forward using Geunduun Sul on both legs, her skin experienced friction intense enough to tear. But today, after crossing hands with Song Gwang-mu, her skin remained completely unscathed.
***
The elders watched the scene with grave expressions.
"The child's attacks..."
"Her killing intent is far too thick."
Unable to finish his words, Dokma was interrupted by Geomma.
Han Ga-eul's attacks were extremely efficient linear strikes aimed at the shortest distance to the opponent.
"That's not martial arts or anything of the sort. It's an attack meant to tear apart living beings by any means necessary."
"Her hand techniques are too cruel as well. There's not a shred of hesitation when striking vital points."
"Even Cheonsalseong would tuck his tail between his legs if he saw that."
"Heh... Where on earth did the child learn something like that?"
Meanwhile, Han Ga-eul was holding Song Gwang-mu's torn-off leg, smiling brightly.
***
The Mad War Hero of the Gods (Peach Martial Arts Master)
Kwaang!
The elders rushed frantically into the Extreme Demon Hall.
"Cult Leader!"
"Why have you all come in such haste?"
"We cannot send our Ga-eul out!"
At Geomma's resounding voice, the Heavenly Demon pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Our Ga-eul...? You seem to be talking about the Divine Physician. Wasn't the decision already made to send her?"
"That crazy wom—no, we absolutely cannot send Ga-eul!"
"Haa. Before the Divine Cult turns into a pigeon coop, please state your reason first."
"She's completely lost it—no, anyway, we can't!"
The Heavenly Demon pressed his throbbing temples with his fingers. He already knew that when the elders were among themselves or with peers, their speech became casual. Even so, within the Divine Cult, that was never a problem. Geomma's overwhelming martial prowess naturally commanded respect. But never once had he seen such childishly stubborn behavior from her.
"The Divine Physician is still young, barely of age. This is the time she should see more of the world. It wouldn't be bad to have her participate in the Yongbongjihoe this time. Coincidentally, the new Cheonryong Palbu is about to be formed."
The Cheonryong Palbu referred to the young talents of the jianghu. Among those who had reached the appropriate age, the most outstanding late-stage prodigies—separated by gender—were granted the titles of dragon and phoenix. That was the jianghu's Cheonryong Palbu. The problem was that there were only eight seats, which were practically monopolized by the great sects at all times.
"Did you just say Cheonryong Palbu? Then our Ga-eul would be the Radiant Dragon? Those worms and chickens over there will all get torn apart!"
"Since she's female, it would be the phoenix. What do you mean by Radiant Dragon?"
"It's impossible. She'll definitely cause an incident. Absolutely not."
"No matter how young, she is the Divine Physician. Mind your manners."