Chapter 434
## Chapter 434. The Wings of the South (4)
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Demonstrating that his title ‘One Blade of a Thousand Men’ had been earned through genuine combat rather than luck, the path of his heavy blade was terrifyingly aggressive. It sheared through any fluid transitions and completely disregarded deceptive blade plays. It was a blade saturated with the hallmarks of the Sun-shooting Sword Law (Sa-il-geom-beop), validating his status as an external initiate of the Jeom-chang Sect. Even without diving deep into its origins, its sheer swiftness was undeniable.
*Clang—*
It possessed a blistering velocity that caused the very atmosphere to pop, combined with a dense weight that paid no heed to intricate maneuvers. His blade, forged into near-flawless execution through decades of practical warfare and survival:
“Hmm—”
It was undeniably an assault that Gang Yu-seong would find immensely difficult to withstand at his current level.
‘Though it won’t be long before he can handle exactly this.’
Shifting my weight, I executed the Tae-eul Eighty Thousand God Steps to manifest deceptive afterimages. Even as half a dozen phantoms converged upon him from every angle, his blade-sharp perception accurately identified my physical form, driving his heavy edge forward without hesitation.
*Slash—*
No crimson sprayed, but a torn shred of fabric fluttered downward, coming to rest upon the dirt.
“Waaaaaaaa—!”
The surrounding crowd erupted into an unprecedented roar, thoroughly captivated by the dazzling display of martial prowess.
“Do you truly believe such shallow visual parlor tricks hold any weight in the Jianghu?”
Confronted by Jang Bu-yong’s mocking query, Jin So-un merely offered a casual shrug.
“The martial artists who perished beneath this very blade would likely lose their minds if they heard you dismiss it so lightly.”
“A toad trapped at the bottom of a dark hole fancies himself a monarch. However—”
*Whooooosh—*
The initiation of the third sequence commenced from Jang Bu-yong’s heavy weapon. The pressure emanating from his blade grew immense and suffocating, mirroring the searing sun that births all life.
“The moment that creature crawls out into the wider world, the truth dawns on him. He realizes he was nothing more than a simple toad.”
*Boom—*
Even standing safely on the periphery, the onlookers instinctively shrunk back, gripped by the illusion that his sweeping blade-force would crash over them like a tidal wave.
“He can be scorched to ash by mere fragments of sunlight.”
Concentrating the vast aura that had previously expanded outward, the massive energy of the blade coalesced toward a singular focus.
“And that he is merely a meal waiting for an infant serpent!”
Resembling a predator rearing back to consume its helpless prey, the crushing weight descended directly over Jin So-un’s head in a heartbeat.
“Face this!”
Yet,
*Chrrrrr.*
The intricate movements of the Ssang-cheon-geom-gyeol originating from Jin So-un’s blade gracefully intertwined with Jang Bu-yong’s descending weapon. This fluid redirection scattered the incoming trajectory of the heavy aura in every direction. The massive swell of destructive energy safely bypassed Jin So-un, dissolving harmlessly into the sky.
“For a serpent, your fangs are remarkably blunt.”
Immediately following the defense, the Ssang-cheon-geom-gyeol unleashed by Jin So-un projected sharp bursts of energy resembling a cascade of drifting blossoms. They drifted downward in an entirely erratic, unpredictable rhythm. The shifting silhouette of the Red Light Sword, laden with illusions and sudden transitions, completely enveloped Jang Bu-yong.
“Do you honestly think a seasoned warrior will succumb to a mere phantasmal sword!”
Jang Bu-yong’s blade surged with even greater intensity, attempting to shatter the technique through raw, crushing momentum.
*Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang—*
The turbulent energy erupting from Jang Bu-yong’s weapon transformed into a localized gale, tearing through all the deceptive phantoms and shifting vectors. This particular style, which bore unmistakable traces of the Forty-eight Swords of the Wind-Whirling Flow (Hoe-pung-mu-ryu-sa-sip-pal-geom), manifested far greater destructive capabilities when executed with a heavy blade rather than a traditional sword. It was an offensive that perfectly capitalized on the fundamental slashing nature of his weapon.
The protective tempest that had shielded Jang Bu-yong by expanding outward swelled in volume, hurtling directly toward Jin So-un. It was an immense vortex of cutting wind, capable of inflicting catastrophic, permanent trauma upon a human frame from a mere glancing blow.
At that exact microsecond, as he anticipated his opponent being torn apart by the gale, a sudden, inexplicable dread gripped Jang Bu-yong’s heart.
‘He’s grinning?’
Despite the terrifying urgency of the situation, which felt as though time itself had slowed to a crawl, Jin So-un’s composed utterance reached his ears with absolute clarity.
“It feels like somewhat of a waste that you were the first to step forward.”
It was an enigmatic statement.
‘……?’
The true intent behind those words manifested almost instantly. Before he could even comprehend the danger, an entire vortex of sword strikes hemmed in his own tempest.
*Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang*
*Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom—*
A massive collision of raw power erupted, instantly neutralizing and erasing his blade-wind. It was an overwhelming, feral gale that threatened to rip up the very foundations of the training square. As that ferocious wind dissipated into nothingness, only Jang Bu-yong remained standing, his form heavily lacerated by countless sword cuts.
“The Cheon-in-il-do was bested!”
“This is madness……!”
The crowd stared at the undeniable outcome. Yet, the sheer shock did not stem solely from the defeat itself. What truly paralyzed the onlookers was the realization that the renowned Cheon-in-il-do had been thoroughly neutralized within a scant ten exchanges.
“J-Jin So-un of the Tae-eul…….”
Just as Gang Chae-seok raised his hand to formally announce the victor, Jin So-un subtly gestured for him to pause. He then directed a calm, steady gaze toward the remaining challengers.
“Next.”
The challengers and the assembled spectators alike could only stare at Jin So-un, their jaws slackened in utter bewilderment.
The ranks of the dissenting challengers were effectively split into two distinct factions: the external initiates of the prominent orthodox sects, and the representatives of independent secular martial houses. The individuals who had preceded Jang Bu-yong primarily hailed from those independent schools. They were martial artists who had journeyed to the Tae-eul Sect to defend the prestige of their own masters and secure personal renown.
Though driven by varied motivations and representing separate banners, the majority took their cues from the external initiates of the major sects—especially after learning that an authentic disciple of exceptional caliber was concealed among those mainstream external representatives.
With Jang Bu-yong—widely considered a master among the external martial artists eager to assert themselves—falling in a mere ten exchanges, the anxious gazes of the secular martial house members naturally gravitated toward the core group of mainstream external initiates.
“…….”
Their expressions were remarkably rigid, their eyes simmering with a dark intensity that bordered on lethal intent. It was the sort of volatile environment where a careless word could invite immediate retribution.
“What is causing this hesitation? He is but a single man.”
Prompted by the voice echoing from the rear of their formation, another external initiate stepped out onto the dusty arena floor.
*Step—*
*Step—*
There were no formal introductions, nor any consideration for martial hierarchy. Both the challenger group and Jin So-un were acutely aware of how farcical it would be to maintain hollow pleasantries under these circumstances.
*Whoosh—*
*Whoosh—*
Their honed weapons immediately locked onto one another’s fatal points.
*Clang—*
“Guh!”
This particular bout concluded with even greater brevity.
“H-How is this possible…….”
The rising guard of the challenger’s blade was cleanly bypassed and shattered. The individual who bore the direct brunt of the Invincible Manhwa Fist (Man-hwa-mu-jeok-gwon) collapsed to the earth with a choked groan that sounded like a final breath. Without sparing a single glance at the fallen martial artist, Jin So-un advanced directly to the edge of the challengers’ line, his voice cutting through the silence.
“Next.”
The onlookers didn’t even have an opportunity to raise a cheer, as an incredibly heavy, suffocating tension had settled over the space between the challengers and Jin So-un.
A third martial artist ascended the platform. The very instant he attempted to settle into his opening stance, Jin So-un’s form dissolved entirely, materializing directly behind his guard.
“What!”
*Thwack!*
The moment the precision strikes of the So-cheon-geom-beop connected, a blinding agony rippled through his nervous system, threatening to unseat his consciousness.
‘Incredible! To think I would fall like this!’
He was a man who had forged a formidable reputation within the Jianghu through countless life-and-death encounters, possessing immense confidence. He had felt entirely certain that even against the premier talent of the Murim Academy, a warrior like himself—reared on the martial traditions of Wudang and seasoned by genuine warfare—would never suffer defeat. Yet, that ironclad certainty was shattered into meaningless fragments.
“Next!”
*Clang!*
The subsequent challenger fared no better. Recognizing Jin So-un’s superior movement techniques, he attempted to create distance by adopting a heavily defensive, tightly wound posture. However, the blade of the Ssang-cheon-geom-gyeol proliferated into an even more expansive array of deadly arcs in an instant.
“Damn it all!”
He was utterly consumed by the blossoming trajectories of the sword, sent hurtling completely out of the boundary markers of the arena.
‘What kind of monstrous strength is this!!’
He was systematically breaking his opposition in the span of a single breath.
“Next.”
A detached, freezing gaze swept over the remaining challengers. With three of their peers decisively thrown from the ring without managing a proper counter-offensive:
“…….”
“…….”
The independent martial artists and even the background external initiates began to visibly shrink back, hesitation creeping into their ranks. The earlier boisterous cheers from within the Tae-eul Sect and the guest stands had completely died down. The entire assembly watched the unfolding scene with white-knuckled intensity, thoroughly subdued by the sheer dominance on display. The only sound resonating across the training ground was a single, solitary voice.
“I offered you an advantage that is theoretically boundless. Do you truly have no intention of capitalizing on it?”
A heavy stillness reigned once more, until a voice finally broke the quiet.
“I will face him!”
A representative from a secular martial house strode forward, projecting an aura of forced bravado. The moment the signal to commence echoed, Jin So-un propelled himself off the earth, his oncoming fist slamming squarely into the challenger’s face.
*Thud—*
The man was forcefully ejected from the arena before he could register the movement, losing consciousness the moment he hit the dirt.
“Is this demonstration sufficient to serve as proof?”
“…….”
“Evidently not.”
Jin So-un’s mocking gaze swept over the remaining challengers in a freezing arc. Yet, none among the opposing group showed any inclination to concede or yield. In all likelihood, even if every single person arrayed against him were to suffer a humiliating defeat at his hands, they would never openly validate the Tae-eul Sect. To utter the words ‘We acknowledge you’ would mean destroying the very premise that had brought them together in protest.
Understanding their stubborn refusal perfectly, Jin So-un barked out:
“Next!”
[How much longer do you intend to toy with these children?]
Despite demonstrating such peerless martial dominance and an utterly flawless performance, the impatient old master immediately let voice to his irritation through a direct transmission.
[Do you honestly believe you can force the wider Jianghu to respect the underlying might of the Tae-eul Sect merely by thrashing a few unrefined novices?]
I directed a counter-inquiry back toward Moyong-gang.
[I hardly think those critiques carry weight coming from a gentleman who historically demonstrated his own clan’s hidden strength through sheer force and endless dueling more than anyone else alive.]
A minor disruption rippled through the elevated seating area. Hyeok Mu-gang and Namgung Tae-ha firmly caught hold of Moyong-gang’s robes, forcing the agitated elder back into his seat. Sensing he might actually descend to disrupt the proceedings, I quickly fired off another mental transmission to mollify him.
[The real demonstration begins now. Simply observe a moment longer.]
Readjusting my grip on my weapon, I stood ready on the arena floor, awaiting the next challenger to step into the ring.
‘Validation…… the underlying might of a martial lineage…….’
By what metrics does the martial world truly measure the latent strength of a sect? Is it the sheer volume of its practitioners? The vastness of its material coffers? One cannot accurately gauge a sect’s foundational power through mere visible assets. Even the revered Nine Sects and One Gang, alongside the Five Great Families that currently serve as the bedrock of the Jianghu, were once nothing more than obscure, minor schools. Conversely, their grand authority had waned and shifted as they weathered innumerable existential crises across centuries of recorded history.
Presently, several of the secular martial houses gathered here boast structures and numbers that eclipse the Tae-eul Sect several times over. Yet, their foundational strength is never regarded as truly independent or formidable. What about the emergence of a singular, generational master? An exceptional prodigy can certainly cause the entire Jianghu to tremble and earn the eternal reverence of the masses. However, even this fails to serve as a reliable indicator of a sect’s institutional strength. If no successor of comparable caliber emerges once that master fades from the stage, then that brilliance cannot be credited as the enduring strength of the ‘sect’ itself.
‘The core lies within the foundation (Geun-bon).’
Looking out at the massive crowds that had converged to witness these duels, I knew the absolute most effective method to ensure the tales spread far and wide.
‘Absolute, unmitigated power.’
Yet, that type of dominance belongs entirely to my personal strength. It does not automatically translate into the enduring strength of my lineage. While I disagreed with the vast majority of Jang Bu-yong’s rhetoric, I conceded that his point regarding what I needed to prove was accurate. I needed to manifest the authentic, institutional strength of the Tae-eul Sect.
‘To demonstrate the purity of the foundation.’
Furthermore…….
The next adversary stepped onto the perimeter of the training ground. Intentionally reining in the immense reservation of internal energy I had been projecting, I leveled my blade against him. Perhaps rattled by the swift defeats of his predecessors, the challenger was overcompensating, flooding his meridians with an excessive amount of internal force.
*Boom!*
His martial garments billowed violently, stretched to their absolute limits by the sheer volume of his energy, while a vibrant coat of sword-qi coated the length of his weapon. It was a flamboyant, aggressive display of martial force. I brought my mind to a state of absolute serenity, greater than any I had summoned before. Then, with deliberate slowness, I initiated the So-cheon-geom-beop.
Had I relied on the Ssang-cheon-geom-gyeol or the advanced Dae-cheon-geom-beop, securing a quick victory would be a simple matter. Yet, that was precisely the reason I chose this path. I needed to illustrate exactly how the So-cheon-geom-beop was meant to be wielded. Not merely as a stepping stone toward the Dae-cheon-geom-beop, and not simply as the foundational basics underlying the Ssang-cheon-geom-gyeol, but as a complete, self-sustaining martial discipline in its own right.
*Thud—*
The quantity of internal energy I funneled into the So-cheon-geom-beop was modest to a fault. And yet, it was entirely adequate. I had, after all, spent an entire previous lifetime surviving endless combat utilizing these exact movements. I focused entirely on the mechanics of my opponent’s technique.
‘Its origin lies within…… the Seven Star Sword (Chil-seong-geom)!’
He unleashed a highly ornamental, dazzling sequence of strikes. Though my mind instantly generated half a dozen methods to violently crush his form in a heartbeat, I consciously suppressed those martial instincts. Instead, the So-cheon-geom-beop extended forward with meticulous care, neutralizing those incoming arcs through minute, subtle adjustments.
*Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang.*
Within the framework of those minor adjustments, I wove subtle illusions to compromise the challenger’s perception.
“Hah!”
Catching the brunt of an unexpected transition while attempting to evade what he assumed was a phantom strike, the man ground his teeth and desperately swung his blade to clear the space.
*Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!*
Like an angler giving and taking slack on a line, I lured him deeper into my operational radius, manipulating his momentum entirely to my liking. Once the positioning was absolute:
*Slide—*
Leveraging the very resistance of his blocking weapon, I executed a precise thrust toward his vital opening once more.
“Guh!”
As he clenched his jaw in a desperate bid to maintain his grip on his threatened weapon, I pressed the offensive even harder.
“Aaaaargh!”
Forcibly retaining his hold on the vibrating sword that threatened to fly from his hand, the friction violently tore the skin from his palm. Struggling through the sudden agony, he swung his weapon wildly to create breathing room, fighting past the pain to raise his vision. It was precisely at that juncture.
*Schwing—*
“Heh…….”
The cold tip of the Red Light Sword had already come to rest gently against his throat.
“Do you wish to persist?”
The man, utterly stunned by the realization of how effortlessly he had been dismantled:
“…….”
Found himself entirely unable to formulate a response. Turning away from his frozen form, I faced the remaining line and threw my voice across the yard.
“Next!”
