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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Bobt
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The black martial artist took a step back from Bidul. His expression was full of confusion.
“A Shaolin disciple? But Shaolin disciples are usually elderly monks…”
Then the retreating black martial artist’s eyes caught sight of the mercenaries and tribal warriors. Their faces looked dazed by the sudden tremendous tremor, yet contrary to those expressions, their faces were still flushed and their pupils slightly dilated.
The martial artist quickly patted his own body upon seeing them. He then glared at Jang Geon again and muttered.
“No he’s not a real Shaolin disciple… No shaolin energy. Just a loud voice powerful enough to stop the poison from acting, not real shaolin energy? Just where did you learn such skills…?”
Jang Geon cleared his throat lightly, thinking that if it were truly just a loud voice, the eardrums of everyone here would have burst.
Using his inner energy to control the vibrations of his voice, making his whole body resonate without tearing the listener’s ears and calming the body’s excitement, was Jang Geon’s attempt at understanding the meaning of “shaolin energy” or breaking evil. He remembered the real Shaolin disciples being dumbfounded upon learning he had actual shaolin energy later on.
Clearing his parched throat with a light cough, Jang Geon spoke in a calmer voice than before.
“Everyone, please calm down. Let us not blindly attack each other with blades.”
It was only after hearing his words that the mercenaries and tribal warriors realized they had become too easily excited.
“Whoa… what, what was that? My body feels flushed.”
“This wasn’t something to get so excited over…”
“…That man’s voice was extraordinary. He must be a master.”
Ippoong took a deep breath and said in a low voice to the surrounding warriors.
“Open your chests and control your breathing. Some kind of foul air has been released.”
The warriors finally regained their senses and began using their spiritual power. Their eyes, which had been flickering with a fierce glint, regained their original golden glow. Even some of the mercenaries sensed something strange in the air and started utilizing their inner energy.
“A stimulant? Using stuff like this instead of poison!”
“Suppress it with your inner energy!”
Of course, there were still some who hadn’t regained their senses.
“This! Those savage bastards must have released it! We should really beat the crap out of those pieces of-”
Suddenly there was a whooshing sound, and an arrow pierced through the top-knotted hair of the man, pinning him to a nearby tree. His head was violently pulled to the side, and after some sputtering, he noticed the arrow and turned pale, realizing he could have died.
The surrounding mercenaries didn’t look pleased either, but they kept their mouths shut upon seeing Birang nocking another arrow.
In any case, both groups were able to look at each other in a more subdued state compared to earlier. The black martial artist could see that the situation was not unfolding as he had wanted. So with a furrowed brow, he quietly asked Jang Geon:
“What is your identity? Are you from the Martial Arts Alliance? One of the orthodox schools? Or could it be the palace?”
“I’m more curious about your identity.”
The black martial artist let out a wry laugh at Jang Geon’s counter-question.
“A wandering Shaolin disciple. An interesting talent you have there… Certainly not the palace. Those arrogant folks wouldn’t try to imitate a temple’s martial arts. Tsk. This has become troublesome.”
The black martial artist lightly clicked his tongue and swept off the long robe he had been wearing, revealing all sorts of blades attached to his body.
Small knives, slightly larger short swords, cross spears, round blades as wide as a palm, long needles, curved blades, straight blades – all kinds of blades that could be thrown seemed to dangle from various parts of his body.
After revealing his weapons like that, he asked:
“What’s your name?”
“Jang Geon.”
The black martial artist nodded.
“I’m Dang Gyeon Sang. You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble.”
Having introduced himself, he turned to face the mercenaries.
“You bunch of human scum who came here to kill people for money. I’ll pay you now, so go do that job. Go kill those savages over there.”
The overly blunt and rude words twisted the mercenaries’ expressions.
“What the hell. Who are you to order us around? Want to get beat down?”
“Those guys don’t look easy to deal with, do we really have to…”
Dang Gyeon Sang let out a mocking laugh.
“Didn’t you all already know what this was about from the start? You knew this was about killing and pillaging those savages, right? And now you’re going to play dumb?”
The mercenaries’ expressions became even more distorted. Those who had regained their senses thanks to Jang Geon’s shout were becoming flushed with excitement once more. Then Dang Gyeon Sang casually waved his hand in the air.
The mercenary who had been swearing at him immediately collapsed, frothing at the mouth.
“Wh-What? What the hell?”
“Could it be…not a stimulant, but poison? To be able to release such poison into the air like that…”
The excited mercenaries quickly calmed down. Dang Gyeon Sang gave a chilling smile and said:
“Go. Kill and take as you were originally going to do. Any gold and women you get from their village belong to each individual. I’ll give you the antidote afterwards. If you don’t want to, then just die.”
“…But that man looks like a master?”
One of the mercenaries pointed at Jang Geon’s resolute expression and asked. Dang Gyeon Sang turned his body and replied:
“I’ll deal with him. You all take care of those savages.”
The mercenaries, who had been sizing up the collapsed, frothing martial artist, exchanged glances with each other. They then slowly turned toward the tribal warriors and quietly drew their blades.
The atmosphere instantly became strange. Like before, there was a sense of having calmed down, but this time it wasn’t the silence of quelling excitement – it was the stillness before an explosion. Jang Geon stared at Dang Gyeon Sang for a moment, then said to Ippoong beside him:
“Please fall back. Proceed as you were originally going to.”
“And you?”
Jang Geon met Dang Gyeon Sang’s pitch-black, flickering eyes and replied:
“I’ll try to take care of that bastard.”
“…Be careful.”
With those brief words, Ippoong and the tribal warriors retreated into the forest with shadowy movements, just as they had appeared.
“Hey! Those guys are running away!”
“After them!”
The mercenaries started muttering among themselves upon seeing the tribal warriors disappear into the woods, then drew their weapons and chased after them. As they ran past Jang Geon shouting, it seemed as if there was an invisible wall they avoided crossing.
Jang Geon simply stared silently at Dang Gyeon Sang while they rushed by him. After all the mercenaries had vanished into the forest, he finally spoke briefly:
“Your hands are quick.”
The chillingly smiling Dang Gyeon Sang’s eyes widened slightly.
“So you saw that? Your eyes are good.”
What Jang Geon referred to was how one of the mercenaries had collapsed earlier. Unlike the excited mercenaries who had been easily deceived, the reason that martial artist was lying there frothing at the mouth was not poison, but a needle-shaped blade that had pierced behind his ear.
The stimulant was just a stimulant. Dang Gyeon Sang had felled that one martial artist with a mere gesture, deceiving the rest.
“And you didn’t try to stop them, even though you knew?”
“If they came knowing the situation, that they were going to burn down the village, then they have to face the consequences themselves.”
Dang Gyeon Sang let out a short laugh.
“How cold. Do you think those savages will be able to fend off all of those mercenaries?”
Jang Geon didn’t answer. He simply took a step forward with his right foot, twisted his body to stand upright, and gripped the hilt of his sword with his left hand. Dang Gyeon Sang observed his stance, then said:
“Right. Let’s figure out each other’s identity after subduing the opponent, then? Let’s see just how fast that blade of yours is.”
He gradually hardened his expression and lowered his stance, bending his knees. His hands moved smoothly, as if pushing down the air in front of his abdomen, descending slowly before coming to an abrupt stop. It looked more like the opening stance of a boxing form rather than a blade-throwing posture.
Thanks to Jang Geon’s earlier shout, the nearby forest birds and animals had fled, and the rustling animals fell completely still. The forest path had become so quiet that the faint sound of a distant river flowing could be heard.
That stillness encompassed the two martial artists as well.
From a distance of around 15 meters, much farther than a typical close-quarters bout, Jang Geon and Dang Gyeon Sang stared at each other with sunken eyes. They seemed to not even breathe, remaining as still as stone statues as they probed each other’s openings.
However, their internal energies surged through the tensed muscles, swirling as if about to explode forth at any moment and temper their bodies.
Then, a scream came from the distant forest.
Before even pondering whose scream it was, the two martial artists moved.
Dang Gyeon Sang’s arms blurred from the shoulders down. Simultaneously, Jang Geon rapidly closed the distance, drawing his blade. In the next moment, the clear ringing of clashing metal began as countless flying blades deflected off Jang Geon’s sword.
Dang Gyeon Sang fired all manner of blades as if he were a machine, not a person. But Jang Geon batted away every single one while ghosting ever closer to him. Sparks flew where steel met steel.
Before the ringing even faded, the nearer Jang Geon’s blade slashed through the space Dang Gyeon Sang had occupied. However, Dang Gyeon Sang had already leapt back, creating distance with a reverse somersault.
“…”
It was an extremely brief yet blindingly fast exchange. Yet when it ended, the two were frozen just as the movements had been unreal – Jang Geon in his sword-slashing pose, Dang Gyeon Sang crouched from his somersault landing.
From that crouched position, Dang Gyeon Sang spoke:
“…Most blades from martial artists of the New Continent are one-strike affairs. That’s it. They don’t truly understand how to move their bodies while training their martial arts, save for a rare few. It can’t be helped, since the martial arts that came over from the Central Plains were for joining the imperial guards.”
Their stances appeared the same, but there was one difference – sweat trickled down Dang Gyeon Sang’s face as his breathing became ragged, unlike Jang Geon’s composed demeanor from before drawing his blade.
Dang Gyeon Sang glanced at the blades littering the ground around him. Not a single effective strike had penetrated Jang Geon’s sword. Any blades that made it past had done little more than tear his clothes.
A smile crept onto his face again, but this time it wasn’t mocking – it seemed brimming with anticipation.
“One who knows nothing more than a single sword strike cannot stop my blades. My blades strike dozens of times for each of your sword strokes… You seem a bit better than those inferior martial artists.”
During their earlier exchange, Jang Geon hadn’t made any grand sword swings to deflect Dang Gyeon Sang’s blades. He had simply angled his blade to their trajectories, adjusting the deflection paths to send them outward from his body.
It was a moment that demonstrated extraordinary eyesight to perceive all the incoming blades, the composure to remain calm, and the skill and internal energy to handle such minuscule movements.
Jang Geon watched the sweat dripping from Dang Gyeon Sang’s nose and said in a low voice:
“Gold clearly wasn’t your goal. The merchant act was just a disguise.”
“Heh. Of course not. Such treasures can be easily acquired elsewhere in this New Continent. It’s a vast land with so few people, overflowing with unexploited resources.”
Dang Gyeon Sang seemed to have exerted tremendous effort in that short time, his face drenched in sweat. He stuck out his tongue to wet his parched lips before continuing:
“You’re definitely not from the imperial palace, and you don’t give off that sect-like aura, so the Martial Arts Alliance is likely… But I’ve never heard of someone like you being part of their patrol squads or strike forces. So what, some kind of secret weapon? Did the Alliance catch wind of the Scotia cult’s movements?”
Jang Geon remained silent. Dang Gyeon Sang was piecing things together himself, and any interjection could only derail his reasoning.
However, Dang Gyeon Sang instead seemed to gain some realization from the lack of response, letting out a short laugh.
“…I see now. You really are just a wanderer in these wilds.”
Then another scream echoed from the distant forest, not a single cry but a series of larger and smaller screams reverberating. Dang Gyeon Sang listened for a moment, then slowly rose to his feet. He wiped the sweat from his face and said:
“It looks like things will be decided over there soon. We should also reach a conclusion here. I’ve stalled enough time.”
His words about stalling time were no exaggeration, as a sudden imposing aura began to emanate from him – a dark, chilling aura. For some reason, meeting his jet-black eyes made one’s body stiffen and cower. Jang Geon had felt a similar aura before, from the leader of the Demon Cult.
Jang Geon gripped his sword tightly and said:
“Poison blades, and now this devilish energy too. What the hell are you really up to?”
“Devilish energy? No! This is a divine art! Do not compare it to the filthy dregs you may have seen in these wilds! This is a true Central Plains martial art that has evolved beyond the Riu dynasty’s confines!”
As he shouted that, Dang Gyeon Sang drew two short swords from behind his waist. The blade lengths slightly exceeded his forearms, yet they quickly lost their metallic sheen, becoming dull and mottled as potent inner energy seeped outward.
Jang Geon studied Dang Gyeon Sang’s eyes. Though somewhat excited, he did not seem to have completely lost his mind like the Demon Cult leader while unleashing such chaotic inner energy. If he retained his sanity while manifesting such immense power, this would not be easy.
So instead of entertaining any further banter from Dang Gyeon Sang, Jang Geon launched a sudden attack. Before gathering any more information through conversation, he had to defeat his opponent first.
Dang Gyeon Sang, feeling an intense exhilaration from the power filling his body, hastily deflected Jang Geon’s onslaught.
Jang Geon’s blade clashed rapidly against Dang Gyeon Sang’s twin blackened swords. Jang Geon’s sword moved so swiftly that Dang Gyeon Sang could not capitalize on his dual-wielding advantage, forced to solely parry, deflect, and evade in a frenzy.
However, that was largely because Dang Gyeon Sang had initially been caught off guard. After exchanging around half a dozen strikes, Dang Gyeon Sang regained his senses and circulated the inner energy of his awakened divine art, allowing him to finally keep up with Jang Geon’s blade and even launch counterattacks.
Feeling a sense of reverence for the divine art he had cultivated, Dang Gyeon Sang fiercely pressed Jang Geon, whose inferior inner energy forced him to retreat step-by-step.
“Hahaha! What a pity! If you truly have no affiliation, I could have invited you to join Scotia and learn this divine art together!”
Finding an opening in Jang Geon’s forced retreat, the mid-battle taunting Dang Gyeon Sang thrust his right sword toward the gap.
At that moment, Jang Geon took a huge step back, exiting the shorter reach of Dang Gyeon Sang’s swords, and slashed his blade like lightning. Dang Gyeon Sang hurriedly retracted his thrust to parry, but at that moment, Jang Geon took a huge step back, exiting the reach of Dang Gyeon Sang’s shorter swords, and slashed his blade like lightning. Dang Gyeon Sang hurriedly retracted his thrust to parry, but was dumbfounded.
Jang Geon’s single sword had clearly split into three blurry afterimages, all hurtling toward Dang Gyeon Sang’s neck.
What is this? Which one is real? How can a sword split into three? Is this just an illusion created by sheer speed?
Those four questions flashed through Dang Gyeon Sang’s mind in an instant. The two swords in his hands managed to deflect two of the three afterimage blades, but those sword images dispersed effortlessly upon impact with Dang Gyeon Sang’s blades.
The final blade image silently streaked across Dang Gyeon Sang’s neck.
Dang Gyeon Sang couldn’t even scream. His neck simply split open, his head dropping to the ground while he continued repeating those thoughts from earlier.
Jang Geon watched Dang Gyeon Sang’s body crumple to the floor and let out a deep exhale. After a moment to catch his breath, he wiped his blade clean and sheathed it, turning to leave.
He had learned nothing, but intended to rejoin the tribal warriors first. If he could capture even one of the mercenaries, he could glean some information. Moreover, the screams from the forest edge earlier had now fallen silent.
However, as Jang Geon turned, he noticed the headless corpse twitching spasmodically. Up close, he could see the neck muscles contracting tightly, stemming the blood flow.
The lolling head’s vacant, dimmed eyes – everything suggested this was not an attempt at reanimation, but simply the final throes of an uncanny life force.
It was a sight befitting the term “devilish energy.” Had he not swiftly severed the head, their battle could have dragged on much longer.
Jang Geon let out a short laugh. It didn’t matter. He had won, so this life force or final struggle were irrelevant. Watching the corpse finally go limp in a gush of blood, Jang Geon sheathed his sword and turned away.
The disturbance in this valley was coming to an end.
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