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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
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Was he subtly insulting me, saying my Dog Beating Staff Technique practice looked pathetic? …Probably not.
I still knew next to nothing about my master, but judging by his behavior so far, he wasn’t one to speak in a roundabout way. That meant I was actually doing well.
But how? I couldn’t understand. Could I really be doing something well if I didn’t even understand it myself? My pride wouldn’t allow it.
Seeing my sullen, unconvinced expression, Master stood up with his usual good-natured “Huh-huh” chuckle. He was a man of few words, relying heavily on that “Huh-huh.”
He spread his legs, extended his left arm forward, and his right arm behind him. Then, suddenly widening his eyes, he abruptly rolled to the side.
He rolled left and right, heedless of his dignity, his long beard gathering dust and dirt as he tumbled across the ground.
Then, springing to his feet, he swung his arms with sharp precise movements, as if parrying and blocking attacks. This, however, didn’t last long. As if being pushed back by someone, he began to sweat profusely, leaping back with comical movements to evade unseen blows.
It was then that I realized what he was doing. Sparring. Master was sparring, shadowboxing against an invisible opponent.
It wasn’t that I was so exceptional I could see the invisible opponent. Master’s every movement showed the opponent.
Just as a skilled pantomime artist creates the illusion of an invisible wall, a true master can create an invisible opponent.
The opponent was smaller than Master. But their weapon… a sword? No, too short. Longer than that. A Staff? No, a spear! They relentlessly pressed Master with fierce spear techniques.
I didn’t know much about spear techniques, but even I could tell this opponent was a formidable spear master. They seamlessly wove together six unorthodox techniques, giving Master no chance to counterattack.
As Master parried the spear thrusts with his bare hands, the opponent began swirling the spear tip in a circle, forcing him back. Master, focused on defending against the swirling spear, gradually overextended himself, his hands moving further away from his body.
It was a trap. Preoccupied with the circling spear tip, Master had left his torso completely unguarded.
Seeing the opening, the opponent pulled back the spear and thrust it powerfully towards Master’s heart.
The force and intensity were like a venomous dragon bursting forth from a swirling, murky lake, jaws wide open.
Could he even dodge that?
He’d fallen for the opponent’s trick and left his heart exposed. A dead end. Checkmate. Nowhere left to run.
I thought it was over, but Master had other plans.
As if anticipating this move from the moment the spear tip started circling, he abruptly threw himself backward, narrowly avoiding the spear.
One second. A fraction of a second slower, and the spear would have pierced his chin and gone straight through his head. But… he dodged it… impressive, but… utterly undignified.
Master, having fallen back like a frog, immediately flipped himself over in preparation for the next attack, rolling like a donkey on the ground to evade the opponent’s furious spear thrusts.
“Keuh… Keuh-heuk… Pfft!”
I knew I shouldn’t, but the sight of the two-meter giant rolling on the ground like a donkey was so comical I burst out laughing. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Huh-huh. Does it amuse you to see your master struggling, little one?”
The sound of my laughter marked the end of the invisible duel. Brushing the dirt off his clothes, Master addressed me in his usual benevolent and firm voice.
“What you just saw is called Lazy Donkey Roll. It’s an evasive technique where you roll on the ground like a donkey to avoid an attack when there’s no other way to block or dodge.”
It certainly looked ridiculous, but the effectiveness of rolling as an evasive maneuver was a scientifically proven theory, established through the notoriously difficult Souls series of video games. …But why did he show me this all of a sudden? Was it to boast about his skills?
“I showed you this because it shares a commonality with the Hellhound Roadblock technique. See if you can guess what it is.”
A commonality between Hellhound Roadblock and Lazy Donkey Roll? What could it possibly be? Hellhound Roadblock was a Staff technique, and Lazy Donkey Roll was an evasive maneuver. Where was the commonality? …Wait a minute.
Master wouldn’t waste his breath on something pointless. This was a hint. He gave me this riddle because he believed I could solve it.
And I could solve it. Because I was Sima Mancheon, the genius who deceives the heavens. I was no mere hamster.
Dog Beating Staff Technique – Hellhound Roadblock: What to do when a vicious dog blocks the road.
Lazy Donkey Roll: Roll on the ground like a lazy donkey. An evasive maneuver used when there’s no other way to block or dodge.
By breaking down the meanings, the commonality became clear. It was a question even a non-genius could answer. I had overthought it.
“The commonality between Hellhound Roadblock and Lazy Donkey Roll is improvisation.”
Master nodded in satisfaction at my answer.
“Indeed. Hellhound Roadblock means to improvise a solution when a vicious dog blocks your path.”
Master borrowed my Staff and conjured an invisible, vicious dog.
“What do you think is the most dangerous enemy for a wandering beggar with no place to call home? Wild dogs.”
Wild dogs, untouched by human hands, were no different from wolves. To them, a lone, poorly armed beggar was easy prey.
“Bandits won’t bother robbing a beggar who has nothing to steal. But wild dogs are different. To them, a beggar is just meat, like any other animal.”
Although invisible, I could sense the presence of a large, vicious wild dog before Master, Staff extended. And the dog was hungry. It crouched low, ready to pounce on Master…
Thwack!
Master struck first. He thrust the Staff forward like a spear, hitting the dog squarely on the nose. Then, he mercilessly pummeled the stunned dog. It looked like a chaotic flurry of blows, but each strike was precise, calculated to keep the dog off balance.
When the dog tried to scramble away, Master swept the Staff low, tripping it, then rained down blows like a relentless downpour. No, a waterfall was a more apt description.
I hated dogs, but even I felt a pang of sympathy for the creature, taking such a beating.
The large, vicious dog that had seemed so threatening no longer posed any obstacle to Master.
“Hellhound Roadblock isn’t about memorizing a set of movements. It’s about improvising a way through when an enemy blocks your path.”
“So when you said I was doing well…”
“You were constantly searching for a solution, weren’t you? And though far from perfect, you managed to approximate it.”
Master instructed me in his usual benevolent and firm voice.
“Mancheon, when a powerful, malicious enemy stands in your way, the most important thing isn’t powerful martial arts. It’s the unwavering determination to find a way through. Never forget this.”
That evening, unable to sleep, my mind replaying the techniques and lessons Master had shown me, I tossed and turned in bed. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and went out to the backyard to practice Hellhound Roadblock.
In the early hours of the morning, as the cool breeze dried my sweat, I finally mastered the technique. And caught a summer cold.
It was summer.
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I snuck an extra bowl of chicken porridge, made with various medicinal herbs and chicken by my mother to nourish me, and set off to visit Master.
As I entered the now familiar abandoned house, I found Master practicing swordsmanship with a long branch.
His towering two-meter frame, his innate strength unleashed in powerful, yet precise, domineering swordsmanship… or was it spear technique? I wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it was impressive.
I sat on a nearby rock to watch until he finished. But as one form ended, another began.
This new form was just as powerful as the previous one, but completely different. If the first was bold and unrestrained, this one was heavy.
It exuded an aura of overwhelming pressure and regal dignity, each movement precise and economical. I watched, mesmerized, swallowing hard. Then, yet another form began.
This one felt entirely different from both the domineering first form and the heavy second. Frankly, it didn’t seem to suit Master’s appearance at all.
It was beautiful. For the first time, I thought swordsmanship could be beautiful. And for some reason, I could smell the sweet fragrance of plum blossoms. It must have been my imagination. How could swordsmanship produce the scent of plum blossoms?
But it wasn’t my imagination. As Master’s beautiful swordsmanship reached its peak, plum blossoms bloomed. For a moment, I saw a beautiful plum blossom orchard, a place where immortals and celestial beings might reside.
No! No! No!
It was just my imagination. I blinked, and the decaying wood and crumbling stone of the abandoned house returned. I was hallucinating without even taking drugs. This was ridiculous.
“I smell the savory aroma of chicken porridge.”
Master addressed me with his usual kind smile, but I could no longer see him as an ordinary person.
Even someone as ignorant of the martial world as I was now understood. Master wasn’t just a reclusive martial artist living in seclusion. My voice trembling, I had to ask.
“Master, who are you?”
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Now I’m curious is it beggar sect or a plum blossom sect? man I also want to know more while translating this. 🤣
