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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
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He meditated for another hour, but his growling stomach broke his concentration.
Rumble-grumble!
Hunger was proof of life. He wasn’t a rock. He was human.
This training method wasn’t for him. But he refused to give up.
He would master this technique, no matter how long it took. Even if it took years. But that didn’t mean he wanted to spend years mastering a single technique.
He recalled the various martial arts his master had described, each one more intriguing and fascinating than the last. He wanted to learn them all.
…He chuckled. It seemed the meditation hadn’t been entirely ineffective. The dreams of his youth, long forgotten, resurfaced with renewed clarity.
He wanted to learn more martial arts.
The Orthodox and Upright Internal Energy Cultivation Method, the Dog Beating Staff Technique, the Seven Star Formation, the Emptiness Illumination Fist, the Golden Goose Technique, and Twin Hand Combat.
They were all powerful techniques. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. It barely scratched the surface.
Even with meditation, he could never become an ascetic. He could never attain enlightenment. He was a hopeless, earthbound creature.
If he wanted to laugh, he would laugh. If he wanted to cry, he would cry. If he desired something, he would take it.
He was a greedy man, true to his desires.
He was Sima Mancheon.
He opened his eyes, brushed the dust off his clothes, and stood up.
The world was full of things he wanted to learn. A treasure trove. A feast for the senses.
He had so much he wanted to learn, and he was no longer a child. Time was precious. He didn’t want to spend years mastering a single technique.
So he would take shortcuts. He would seek the easiest path. He would forge his own way.
“Hey, old man, time-out. I need to talk.”
Muk-gang slowly opened his eyes, still seated in his meditative posture, and nodded, as if to say, Speak.
“My master used to say that everyone has a different constitution.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“This training method isn’t suited to me. If there are no other options, then I have no choice, but if there are, I’d like to explore them.”
Muk-gang carefully studied Mancheon’s face, who was shamelessly requesting alternative training methods.
‘He’s not trying to avoid the training out of laziness.’
He didn’t see the face of a defeated man seeking excuses. He saw confidence, the conviction that he could find another way.
“There are other methods. However, very few have succeeded in channeling the energy of Fudo Myo-o using these methods.”
Muk-gang had intended to warn him of the dangers of taking shortcuts, but it had the opposite effect. Mancheon’s eyes lit up.
A secret training method, with a low success rate.
His heart pounded in his chest, his blood singing with excitement. His competitive spirit surged.
“So there is a customized training method tailored for a genius like me, Sima Mancheon, who deceives even the heavens. Tell me. Now.”
“Sometimes, learning through failure is also a form of training.”
Having deemed his attempt at persuasion futile, Muk-gang stood up without another word and placed his fist against Mancheon’s stomach. A dark, reddish energy emanated from his body.
‘Huh? Why is there a scary aura coming from him?’
Mancheon instinctively sensed that something was wrong. And his suspicion was quickly confirmed.
“The quickest way to channel the energy of Fudo Myo-o into your dantian is to directly inject it.”
The dark red aura surrounding Muk-gang intensified, taking the form of Fudo Myo-o, the protector of the world.
A translucent, armor-like figure, mimicking Muk-gang’s stance, enveloped him. He was assuming a fighting stance. Preparing to punch him in the stomach.
“I’m warning you. This will hurt.”
“W-wait…”
No questions asked. No take-backs. A fist of love, aimed at the student seeking shortcuts, a shortcut to enlightenment. The Fudo Myo-o Punch.
“GYAAAAAAAAAAAH-!!”
Caught completely off guard, Mancheon received the full force of Muk-gang’s One-Inch Punch directly in the solar plexus, and, like a chimpy struck in the gut, he let out a shriek as he went flying, landing flat on his back.
“Ugh… cough… gasp…”
The pain was so intense he couldn’t think. He could only feel.
His consciousness began to fade, but it wasn’t the pleasant drift towards sleep.
His breathing was labored, his lungs struggling to draw air. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing or dying.
His soul detached from his writhing body, sinking endlessly into the darkness.
Down, down, down, pulled by an invisible, powerful force.
“Young disciple, go and meet the Wisdom King. Learn how insignificant you truly are.”
With Muk-gang’s infuriatingly calm farewell echoing in his ears, Mancheon lost consciousness. He blacked out completely.
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‘Where… am I?’
Was he even conscious? He opened his eyes and found himself floating in an unknown space.
It was dark, yet he could see. He felt like he was submerged in warm mud. Thankfully, he could breathe.
Alone in the endless darkness, he slowly sank.
No, he wasn’t alone. He simply hadn’t realized it yet.
A giant figure, wreathed in flames, loomed over him in the darkness, its face contorted in a terrifying grimace.
His instincts told him this being was the master of this strange realm.
Fudo Myo-o (Acala), one of the Five Wisdom Kings, the protector of the world, who sat at the center of the world, incinerating evil.
Perhaps… he was hallucinating from the pain of Muk-gang’s punch to the gut, but it was a mystical experience nonetheless, meeting Fudo Myo-o.
As he observed the figure, unsure whether it was real or a figment of his imagination, the world shook violently, as if struck by an earthquake.
[State your name]
The Wisdom King’s voice shook the very foundations of reality. A shockwave rippled through him, his body trembling uncontrollably.
His sense of self shattered. Like the Little Mermaid dissolving into seafoam, his being fragmented, scattering into the darkness.
The Wisdom King’s presence, his voice, shattered his inflated ego.
The true purpose of this hidden training method wasn’t simply to channel the energy of Fudo Myo-o.
It was to humble the arrogant disciple through an encounter with a being of immense power.
“Ah-! Aaah-!”
H-he needed to… state his name… but he couldn’t… he couldn’t remember!?
He desperately clung to his sense of self, knowing that if he lost consciousness here, if he dissolved completely, he would lose something precious. But he couldn’t remember his own name.
He instinctively reached for the scattered fragments of his being, knowing that his ‘name,’ the essence of his being, resided within them.
He had to gather them, to become whole again.
He reached out towards the fragments, floating upwards, away from his sinking body.
*Pop~ pop-pop~! *
His outstretched right arm dissolved into fragments, accompanied by a sound utterly incongruous with the gravity of the situation. He desperately tried to grasp the fragments with his left hand, but they slipped through his fingers.
His consciousness… began to fade.
He instinctively knew that even if he lost consciousness here, he wouldn’t die. He could simply close his eyes and let go.
But his pride wouldn’t allow it. Who did they think he was?!
He was—!!
Just as he was about to declare his identity, his body dissolved completely, the fragments scattering, his memories fading.
Who… who was he?
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How much time had passed? He no longer remembered who he was, but he clung desperately to his consciousness, knowing he couldn’t afford to lose himself completely.
He continued his endless descent, his struggle seemingly without end.
Then, through his blurred vision, he saw ‘something.’ ‘Something’ was swimming towards him at an incredible speed.
What was that? A snake? A dragon? A… girl?
A being with clear, beautiful blue eyes, like the morning sea, embraced him. A warm embrace that drew the scattered fragments of his being back together.
His consciousness returned, but his memories remained lost.
He didn’t know who he was… or who that ‘something’ was… but he knew one thing.
He had to remember this being before him. Even if the entire world forgot, he couldn’t.
He couldn’t forget ‘something’s’ name. He had to remember.
He looked into those blue eyes, focused solely on her. Beautiful eyes. Innocent eyes.
Captivated by those beautiful eyes, reminiscent of a vast ocean, even as his body continued to dissolve, he unconsciously whispered a name.
“Gwa…hae… Gwahae (Across the Sea).”
‘I… remember.’
His right arm, which had dissolved into seafoam, re-formed, bubbling and churning, regaining its shape.
Yes! Not ‘something,’ but Gwahae! The name he had given her!
He reached out and embraced Gwahae, holding her tightly, as if trying to crush her, until the trembling stopped, sharing his warmth.
He drew the scattered fragments back towards him. They were his, after all. They shouldn’t have scattered in the first place.
He looked at the fragments, sparkling even in the darkness. Fragments containing his memories of Gwahae.
Within each fragment, Gwahae looked at him, her small mouth moving as if trying to say something, whispering endlessly.
[State your name]
The Wisdom King’s voice echoed again, shaking the world. But he no longer trembled. He no longer fragmented.
He… had found his answer.
He mouthed the words along with Gwahae, echoing the whispered ‘something.’
“Mancheon (Deceiving the Heavens).”
The fragments swirled around him, coalescing, reforming into a whole.
He looked around. Gwahae, who had appeared so suddenly, was gone. Perhaps she had been a figment of his imagination.
An illusion within an illusion. How absurd.
He no longer needed to remain in this dark, dreary place. He had sunk far enough; it was time to rise.
Up, up, up he soared. Then he stopped.
He stopped directly in front of Fudo Myo-o, meeting the giant’s gaze head-on, refusing to look up.
“You want my name? I’ll tell you. Listen closely.”
He drew a deep breath, filling his lungs, then released it in a single burst.
“I am Sima Mancheon (司馬瞞天), the genius who deceives even the heavens—!!”
[I have heard your name]
“Hmph- You’re just an illusion, and yet you put on such airs… Begone, clown of my memories.”
He waved his hand, dispelling the giant, imposing figure of Fudo Myo-o, a construct of pure energy.
Fudo Myo-o was nothing more than the energy Muk-gang had injected into his dantian. He had been intimidated by its immense power and had mistakenly believed he was facing the real Fudo Myo-o.
This realm was his. He could descend or ascend as he pleased.
Yeonhwa had promised to make him Western food tonight. He had no time to waste in this place.
He continued his ascent, leaving the shattered fragments of energy behind, towards the ever-brightening light.
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Muk-gang frowned, watching over the unconscious Mancheon, who remained motionless, sprawled on the ground.
‘This is strange. He should have awakened by now.’
The training method he had used on Mancheon was, in name, a secret technique, but in reality, it was a method used to humble arrogant disciples who had grown complacent due to their talent.
Normally, the disciple would awaken the moment they saw the imposing figure of Fudo Myo-o, their energy construct. It was a relatively gentle exercise, akin to a bad dream.
‘Don’t tell me he’s actually fighting the illusory Fudo Myo-o?’
That was dangerous. While there had been cases of disciples channeling the energy of Fudo Myo-o into their dantian through this method, by realizing the illusory nature of the Wisdom King, such cases were exceedingly rare.
For an ordinary person to directly confront such immense power would result in the erosion, and ultimately, the complete destruction, of their spirit.
Muk-gang approached, intending to forcibly awaken Mancheon before it was too late, when the air around them shifted.
Or rather, the air around Mancheon shifted, growing heavy, dense. The energy of Fudo Myo-o began to settle within Mancheon’s dantian.
‘Could it be? Did he actually… overcome it?’
He had offered to teach him the technique, but he hadn’t expected Mancheon to actually succeed in channeling the Wisdom King’s energy. He had assumed the boy would give up.
His heart pounded with excitement at the unexpected arrival of a new seeker.
Mancheon’s body trembled slightly. The tremors intensified, and then he awakened, rising slowly, majestically.
The energy emanating from him was different. Muk-gang’s eyes widened.
This was the most crucial moment. The moment when the energy of the Wisdom King was most potent. There was no time to lose.
“Raise your leg and draw upon your inner strength!”
He charged towards Mancheon, unleashing his killing intent, but not his internal energy. He threw a punch with lethal force.
“Crush the earth beneath your heel, with the conviction to stop time itself!!”
Though he hadn’t channeled his internal energy, his body, honed to the peak of physical perfection, could still deliver a devastating blow. Depending on where it landed, it could cause serious injury, even death.
But Mancheon didn’t flinch. He didn’t cower. He simply raised his left leg.
He, too, wanted to test the limits of his newfound power.
The energy of Fudo Myo-o, now residing within his dantian, stabilized his center of gravity. He brought his raised left leg down, stomping the earth with the force of a tectonic shift.
With the conviction to stop time itself, he planted his foot firmly on the ground.
The Fudo Myo-o Steps.
Muk-gang’s powerful fist stopped inches from Mancheon’s face. He hadn’t stopped out of concern for the boy’s safety, or because he had changed his mind. He had fully intended to strike.
But… his fist had stopped. Forcibly halted.
For a fleeting instant, a mere fraction of a second, Mancheon’s Fudo Myo-o Steps had overpowered him.
Muk-gang, his usual impassive mask replaced by genuine surprise, stared at Mancheon.
“I admit defeat. You truly are a genius who deceives even the heavens.”
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Ay yooo! A the geinus learn a new tech easily Holly F….
Yoooo so badass. Thanks Teot!