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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
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After the Poison Emperor went inside, Dang So-baek remained alone on the railing, breathing in the chilly night air.
“Sigh… Dad’s really something. All that karma will catch up to him, and he’ll regret it once he’s in hell.”
Though she got along with her father, she didn’t love him enough to actively stop him.
She wasn’t the type to be filial to that extent.
“Tsk, he should handle his own business. It’s not like my help would change anything.”
To Dang So-baek, the Poison Emperor wasn’t just her father—he was a pitiful human being.
Ever since witnessing his wife being torn apart by Blood Cult disciples during the True Blood War, he had been obsessively trying to bring her back to life through absurd experiments like “creating life.”
Of course, as a scholar herself, she wasn’t entirely disinterested in the concept of life creation.
“But no matter how many times he tries, it won’t work. He keeps messing up the drug ratios—how does he expect to create life like that?”
In fact, she had already created life herself at the age of fifteen.
Not through biological means, but through sorcery, combining humans, beasts, and spirits in an artificial method. Since she had done it alone in the basement, no one knew except her.
That was why she had lost interest.
She didn’t even want to see her long-dead mother again.
Just like countless other mundane affairs she had grown bored of.
The moment she had succeeded, underworld judges had swarmed in to warn her to stop.
“I should just read the celestial records.”
Setting aside her concerns about her father’s futile endeavors, Dang So-baek looked up at the sky.
The vast sea of stars, the Milky Way, was the first thing that filled her vision.
Her eyes, usually brimming with annoyance, now sparkled faintly.
For the past thirteen years, she had always looked like this whenever she gazed at the night sky.
“Still at it, huh? It’s been over a decade, and you’re still like this?”
What Dang So-baek was observing wasn’t the will of heaven but the records of heaven —the celestial chronicles documenting the history of the world.
She hadn’t always been interested in the celestial records.
But ever since that day thirteen years ago, when the celestial records had suddenly become tangled and scrambled—
Dang So-baek had developed a habit of deciphering them bit by bit every day.
Now, she could interpret a significant portion of the distorted records.
“To interfere with the celestial records… How the hell did he do that?”
The celestial records weren’t something that could be manipulated artificially.
How could a mere human alter the will of heaven?
Unless someone like her deliberately dug into it—even a Great Immortal wouldn’t be capable of such a feat.
“As I thought…”
Yet, the current celestial records had been artificially distorted.
No matter how strong someone’s martial arts were or what grand events they caused, the celestial records shouldn’t have been affected.
After all, the celestial records existed on a plane beyond human reach.
For them to be manipulated like this meant…
“He must have tampered with the axis of time. No idea how, though.”
Dang So-baek stared intently at the sky.
In her emerald-green eyes, the celestial records appeared compressed.
Compressed to an absurd, uncountable degree.
“Someone turned back time, over and over, twisting the celestial records.”
She didn’t bother thinking about how it was done.
She had no patience for pondering unsolvable mysteries.
Instead, she focused on the next question:
Who had turned back time?
Why had they altered the celestial records?
She already had a suspicion. She was just reviewing her thoughts.
“The only one who could achieve something so absurd that everyone acknowledges it… is the Sword Saint.”
The man who had surpassed even the Five Ultimates, who had glimpsed the pinnacle of martial arts—the one who defeated the Blood Demon and saved the martial world.
The hero who, just three days after the True Blood War’s end, had driven back the Heavenly Demon descending from the Heavenly Mountains with just a few words.
Come to think of it, until thirteen years ago, the celestial records had foretold “mutual destruction.”
But from the day the records were distorted, they became so scrambled they were nearly unreadable.
The martial world, which should have been destroyed by the Blood Demon and the Heavenly Demon, had been saved by the Sword Saint.
“According to witnesses, the Sword Saint always acted as if he could predict the future. If that’s the case, everything fits perfectly.”
Once her thoughts reached that point, two questions settled in her mind:
1. Why didn’t the Sword Saint turn back time after being ruined?
– If he had a hostage or something, rewinding time would have restored everything.
– Was he unable to? Did his ability disappear after saving the martial world?
But no matter how much she racked her brain, without knowing the source of his power, she couldn’t find an answer.
Even for her brilliant mind, this was beyond deduction.
So, she quickly moved on to the next question—as usual, shelving what she couldn’t figure out.
2. Who framed the Sword Saint?
The first suspect was the Blood Cult.
But the more she thought about it, the less likely that seemed.
The Blood Demon was dead, the Twelve Sect Leaders were dead—why would the remnants go out of their way to ruin him?
Revenge was possible, but the sheer number of witnesses killed suggested massive financial backing.
And the Blood Cult, already in ruins, wouldn’t have that kind of money.
Gradually, her suspicions turned toward the person who had benefited the most from the Sword Saint’s downfall:
The former Martial Alliance strategist, Namgung Bin.
The man who had seized the Namgung family the moment the Sword Saint was exiled.
Moreover, though it wasn’t public knowledge, his influence in the underworld was immense.
While reviewing the Alliance’s finances as a strategist, she had discovered that he had embezzled a staggering amount of funds through multiple layers of money laundering.
“Assuming Namgung Bin was the mastermind…”
But there were still inconsistencies.
For one, she didn’t even know why he would frame the Sword Saint.
If the goal was the Namgung family, was it really worth making an enemy of the Sword Saint?
“There’s something I’m missing… but I can’t grasp it.”
Many theories came to mind:
– Maybe Namgung Bin was a Blood Cult puppet.
– Maybe he was a hidden mastermind plotting to overthrow the martial world.
But each theory had its own contradictions, and in the end, Dang So-baek had no choice but to shelve this question too.
“I’ll just have Dad investigate further.”
Shaking off her thoughts, she turned her gaze back to the sky.
When her mind was tangled, the best thing was to mindlessly decipher the celestial records—or more precisely, the erased records of the Sword Saint.
“Wow…”
Though the content was so vast she could spend a lifetime and still not finish, she read through it meticulously, burying the unanswered questions in her heart.
“As expected… the Sword Saint.”
At some point, she let out an admiring murmur.
“He’s so damn cool!”
Tonight, too, she immersed herself in the Sword Saint’s erased history, rediscovering the righteousness she had long forgotten.
It would’ve been nice if things had stayed that way, but—
Rustle—
“Hm?”
The sound of something scurrying at her feet snapped her out of her reverie.
Looking down, she saw something small and fuzzy in the darkness.
Bending over for a better look, she finally recognized it.
Squeak?
“KYAAAAAAAH!!”
A rat.
Squeak squeak—!
“A r-r-r-rat! A RAT!! HYIIIIIIIIK!!”
Every hair on her body stood on end as she froze like a statue.
The mind that had just been deciphering complex history was instantly wiped blank.
Unconcerned with her terror, the rat scurried onto her foot.
“AAAAAAAAAH!!”
In her panic, she leaped backward—right over the railing.
Whoosh— CRASH!
Without even attempting to break her fall, she slammed into the ground.
If she had kept her wits, she could’ve landed safely.
But the moment she saw the rat, her mind short-circuited.
“L-Lady Poison Flower! What happened? Did assassins attack?!”
“Everyone, arm yourselves! Lady Poison Flower has been assaulted!”
The Wudang disciples on watch, witnessing the scene, immediately sounded the alarm.
Dang So-baek, ignoring her disheveled hair, gathered her inner energy and shouted:
“A BROOM—!! BRING ME A BROOM AND A MOP—!!!”
And so, that night, the Wudang disciples spent five hours scrubbing and cleaning Dang So-baek’s quarters.
***
Three Days Until the Seven Flowers Tournament
Unfortunately, Jin Ga-young had only just regained the ability to move.
At this rate, she’d barely recover enough to fight by the tournament’s start.
Munch—
On an unrelated note, chicken legs really are the best.
The texture is unbeatable, and they pair well with any seasoning or spice.
I’d forgotten about them for a while, but ever since Jin Ga-young gave me one at the Hengshan Sword Gate, I’ve been eating them almost daily.
Some might say I’d get sick of them, but each bite feels new and exciting.
“Uncle? Eating chicken legs again?”
“Yes. Would you like one, young lady?”
“No, you enjoy them. By the way, have you heard? The matchups were decided—the Celestial Venerable drew them himself.”
“Is that so? Who is your first opponent?”
“The brackets are a secret until the tournament starts. Well, it’s not like I’m the only one who doesn’t know, so it’s fine.”
For Jin Ga-young, who couldn’t even train right now, this was actually good news.
“Hm… what’s this presence?”
Ever since my unexpected reunion with Yoo So-eun yesterday, I’ve been keeping a subtle awareness of my surroundings, even while sleeping.
And now, I sensed a martial artist’s presence approaching.
A fairly strong one, at that.
“We have a guest.”
“A guest? Wh-Who is it? Could it be Okhwa?”
Hard to say. The energy was comparable to Okhwa’s, but the nature was entirely different.
Unlike Okhwa’s sharp, murderous aura, this one was gentle and soothing.
“No. It’s the Celestial Venerable.”
“Th-The Celestial Venerable? He’s here?”
“Yes. Probably because of that ‘promise’ from before.”
When I first arrived with the Wudang Sect, he had requested a spar.
Honestly, it wasn’t particularly beneficial for me, but I accepted because I didn’t want to avoid it.
– You know, back then, I only agreed because your temper was getting worse.
“You startled me. What if you just blurt something like that out?”
– Kehehe. So? Do you still intend to spar?
“A promise is a promise. I won’t go back on my word.”
Just then, the Celestial Venerable’s aged, dignified voice echoed from outside the door.
“White Mask, are you there?”
I’d always wanted to have a voice like that when I grew old, but unless I drank Gongcheong Soyu, that dream was long gone.
“Please come in, Celestial Venerable.”
Creak—
“Ahem. I hope you’ve been well.”
“Thanks to Wudang’s hospitality, I’ve been living comfortably.”
The old man, with a white beard reaching his waist, opened the door politely.
The leader of the Wudang Sect—the Celestial Venerable.
One of the few who knew my face, so I was already wearing the White Mask.
“Were there any inconveniences? Last night, a rat appeared in the Dang family’s quarters, causing quite a stir for Lady Poison Flower.”
“I’m fine. I’m not the type to mind rats.”
“Ohh, what a magnanimous soul. Then… shall we begin?”
“A promise is a promise.”
“Are you two going to spar? Can I watch?”
“Ah, Sword Flower. Of course, you’re welcome to observe.”
Honestly, I wasn’t particularly eager.
Sparring with the Celestial Venerable wouldn’t benefit me in any way.
Respect aside, he was far below my level.
It would be neither fun nor interesting—so why would I want to?
– Bored?
“It’d be rude to call it boring when someone’s looking forward to it.”
– You still won’t deny it outright.
“…Why, are you offering to fight in my place?”
– I was just about to suggest that.
“See? You’re not even planning to help, yet you— Wait, what?”
– I’m willing to fight in your stead. Lend me your body. Since my descendant is watching, I should properly demonstrate the true essence of the Frozen Flame Moon. And I’ve taken an interest in that ‘Celestial Venerable’ brat.
“Is… is that possible? You can possess my body?”
If true, this wasn’t something to take lightly.
If necessary, I might have to erase him immediately—
– D-Don’t look at me like that! Stop the killing intent! Nothing like what you’re worried about will happen!
“Can you guarantee that?”
– I can only take over if you willingly step aside. I can’t forcibly seize control.
“Can I trust you?”
– It’s not a matter of trust. Your soul’s density is beyond my ability to suppress.
His tone was as brazen as ever, so he was probably telling the truth.
Swallowing my unease, I asked:
“…Then how do I step aside?”
– Leave your body. As someone who’s reached the state of Sitting Liberation, you can do that much, right?
“Well, it’s not impossible… But the moment your spar with the Celestial Venerable ends, I’m taking back control.”
– Tch, I don’t need it anyway. The underworld emissaries won’t summon me, so I’m stuck clinging to you. What use do I have for a physical body? Right now, I’m just curious about that brat.
Jin Wuyong pointed mentally at the Celestial Venerable.
Calling the oldest man in the martial world a brat…
For the first time in a while, I truly felt how ancient Jin Wuyong was.
“If you do anything strange, I’ll erase your soul immediately. Behave yourself. Act like me.”
– Yeah, yeah. I’ve been in your body for months—you think I can’t mimic you?
“I can’t imagine it.”
– You little—!
For me, this was a chance to comfortably watch a spar between Jin Wuyong, one of the Ten Great Masters of ancient times, and the Celestial Venerable.
But could I really trust him?
…I’ll give him a chance. How often do I get to spectate from outside my own body?
“Then do your best. Don’t forget I’ll be watching.”
– Got it, got it. You’re gonna make my ears callous.
Whoosh—
The moment I left my body, Jin Wuyong immediately took over.
Though the Celestial Venerable and Jin Ga-young didn’t notice, I could see the subtle changes in my body.
Most noticeably—the eyes.
Even if he mimicked my speech, those eyes were unmistakably his.
“Ah… there’s something else.”
The Celestial Venerable spoke cautiously to Jin Wuyong.
In the next moment, my worries about Jin Wuyong’s poor imitation vanished.
“What is it?”
– …Has he truly lost his mind?
The sheer audacity with which he dropped into informal speech was so natural that I felt enlightened instead of concerned.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he spoke down to the Celestial Venerable.
“Don’t worry. My superiority is so natural that no one will find it strange.”
– That’s not how it— Never mind.
Astonishingly, neither Jin Ga-young nor the Celestial Venerable questioned it.
In many ways, Jin Wuyong was truly an extraordinary man.
“Actually… I have a request, White Mask.”
“What is it? Speak.”
“To be honest, this old man has been stuck at a great wall. I hoped to overcome it through sparring with you. We’ve only just met, but… your energy is profoundly deep.”
“Is that so? Hmph…”
I had been suppressing my energy, but not completely. Had he noticed?
Then again, if he hadn’t even picked up on Jin Wuyong’s speech, his perception was surprisingly lacking.
Jin Ga-young didn’t seem to notice either, so maybe Jin Wuyong just naturally suited such arrogance.
“But on second thought, what does an old man like me gaining enlightenment matter? I’ll be dead and buried soon anyway.”
“Such insolence from a brat. You’re upsetting this elder.”
“So… I’d like to give this opportunity to my granddaughter. Do you know who this old man’s granddaughter is?”
Oh no.
I’d underestimated the Celestial Venerable’s kindness.
“…? Wait… your granddaughter… Cheonhwa? Hmm… Would sparring with a late-stage master even be interesting? Maybe with you, but…”
To think he’d suppress even a martial artist’s natural ambition and pass the opportunity to Cheonhwa.
I wouldn’t mind, but could Jin Wuyong really hold back?
Given how casually he was speaking down to the Celestial Venerable, my expectations were already low.
“Don’t worry. Cheonhwa is a genius—you won’t be disappointed. And I’m not just saying that because she’s my granddaughter.”
“If you say so, I’ll trust you. But the Seven Flowers Tournament is in three days—what if she gets hurt?”
Exactly. Wanting to help his granddaughter improve was understandable, but right before the tournament?
“Haha, if the Seven Flowers Tournament is a small grove, martial arts are a great mountain. Should we focus on the grove and miss the chance to spar with a master?”
…Hmph.
“He’s just like my son-in-law.”
– I’m not that bad.
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