Chapter 419
Chapter 419. The Price of Connection (7)
—
I recall Mo-yong Gang from my previous existence. Despite wielding a domineering martial art known as the Breaking Sword, he never grew weary or collapsed first when facing numerically superior forces of the Demonic Cult. Re-examining that from the perspective of this current life, it was an incredibly bizarre phenomenon. He clearly utilized a martial art that was vastly more explosive and exhausting than the Tae-eul Sword Technique, so how could he battle for days and nights with internal energy that had not even achieved five cycles?
*‘It was also my greatest unanswered question.’*
Lifting my gaze, I focused on the path ahead once more. Roughly a hundred Wudang disciples were charging forward with a fierce, menacing momentum. These were not the incompetent fools I had dealt with previously, who rushed ahead blindly relying solely on their greater numbers. They were the absolute cream of the crop. Martial artists whose skills were already reaching a state of fulfillment.
Had this been the past, the immense pressure would have made my heart race and my mind burn. But at this moment, I am as serene as I have ever been. Taking one step, and then another, I watched the approaching adversaries before me. My mind, which normally would have been frantically recalling the enemy’s past life to formulate a counter-strategy, was quieter than it had ever been.
Within that tranquil stillness, all of a sudden, a line from the *Tae-eul-jin-gyeong* surged through my consciousness.
*Where the truth of the universe resides, immeasurable bondage is in vain.*
The unexpected arrival of that passage sent an electric shiver through my entire frame. Even with the clash impending, not a single trace of dread or panic surfaced.
“Attack!”
“Cha-at!”
Three individuals thrust simultaneously, executing the Ghost Cloud Sword (*Gwi-un-geom*). Since it was a sword style that did not derive its core principles from Taiji Fist, I was unfamiliar with its neutralizing pattern, yet my hands reached out without a moment’s hesitation.
Infused with the Floating Cloud Divine Art, the Snow Flower (Seol-hwa) was unleashed. Consequently, the three men driving their blades forward found their trajectories forcefully redirected against their will, plunging directly into the dirt just as they were.
“Oh?”
They attempted to desperately correct their momentum, but their bodies, already caught in the overwhelming current, tumbled straight onto the ground, causing the arms gripping their weapons to snap in angles that nature never intended.
“U-heok!”
“Kuaaaack!”
Disregarding the one who had blacked out from the sheer agony, I immediately struck the remaining two with the Phantom Leg (*Hwan-yeong-gak*).
*Thwack!*
*Bang!*
The pair slammed violently into the estate’s stone perimeter, kicking up thick, dark smoke. Right after, seven more disciples charged into the fray.
Small Heaven Sword Technique.
Breaking the Rule (*Pa-gyeok*) form.
Drenched in murderous intent, the Red Light Sword pierced only the most lethal targets, tearing the adversaries apart.
*Sseugeok, sseugeok, sseugeok.*
One was left with a deep gash slicing across his torso, while another dropped his weapon as the tendons in his wrist were severed. Horrified by the continuous blade wounds tearing from their shoulders to their backs, they sprayed crimson fountains, their bodies twisting into agonizing contortions.
“U-heok!”
“Kuaaaack!”
Without delay, the Myriad Transformations Matchless Fist was unleashed upon them.
*Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!*
Before they could even comprehend their injuries, their limbs were fractured, their facial bones smashed, and their ribcages caved in as they were sent hurtling through the air in every direction.
“…….”
“…….”
The remaining Wudang disciples faltered at the devastation that had materialized in a mere flash. Paralyzed by the unbelievable turn of events, they looked around like bewildered pups searching for their owner.
“You brainless idiots!”
The Hall Master bellowed in a rage, his complexion turning an even deeper shade of crimson than before.
“What are you standing around for!”
Stirred by conditioned dread, their bodies reacted instinctively, and the Wudang disciples lunged forward once more, unable to mask their underlying terror. If there is one truth I have grasped across countless conflicts, it is that deeply drilled habits are undoubtedly valuable on a grand battlefield, but that utility vanishes in a micro-scale engagement. In a solo-versus-many confrontation, it amounts to nothing more than a pointless waste of stamina.
*Crack.*
A warrior whose spirit is shattered squanders all the focus needed for tactical thinking just trying to suppress his own panic.
*Cr-crack.*
Stepping past the combatants rolling on the dirt with shattered arms, fractured legs, and broken shins, I pressed onward. Wounded adversaries piled together like a mound of dirt are nothing more than physical barriers that restrict one’s own freedom of movement.
*Sswwaeeek—*
Vibrant crimson sword energy erupted wildly from the Red Light Sword, raining down upon the Wudang disciples.
“Defend!”
*Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!*
It posed little real danger to the Wudang disciples, but it had never been unleashed for the purpose of inflicting direct harm anyway. The moment the dust clouds kicked up by the concussive energy began to settle.
“O-over there!”
The blossoming buds of the phantom sword descended from above their heads.
*Chrrrrrrrrk.*
Tens, hundreds of phantom sword flowers bloomed simultaneously, throwing out sharp shards like falling petals in every direction.
“Do not let yourselves be fooled by the cheap illusions of a phantom sword wielder!”
A martial artist barked out sharply, attempting to maintain the dignity of an elite grand sect.
“Kuaack!”
And yet, that very warrior who was demanding composure was the initial casualty to take a blade strike to the chest, spraying a geyser of blood.
“Kuaaaaaack!”
“Keu-heuk!”
“My, my eyes! My eyes!”
Geysers of blood, phantom illusions, and shifting blades ran rampant through the space. Amidst the compounding pandemonium, their tactical alignment shattered at an accelerated pace, and the count of those collapsing from severe wounds multiplied rapidly.
*Rumble—*
Accompanied by a heavy, ominous tremor that vibrated through the atmosphere.
Radiant Heaven Divine Palm.
A concussive shockwave of palm pressure slammed into the disoriented Wudang disciples.
*Kwakwakwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!*
The descending palm force, intentionally struck at a precise tilt, tore violently through the ground, turning the laid marble tiles into jagged shards that hurled themselves toward the Wudang disciples.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Ugh!”
The chaotic barrage of jagged stone fragments forced them to spit out crude expletives that utterly disgraced their decades of spiritual cultivation, and anyone caught in that rocky tempest bled profusely without exception.
*‘I am not growing weary.’*
From massive-scale phantom swords to the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm. Despite having burned through a massive reserve of internal force, I felt no exhaustion whatsoever. In fact, it felt quite the opposite—as though my physique was unlocking and a fresh surge of vitality was flooding my vessels. Was this the exact sensation Mo-yong Gang experienced, wearing an expression that suggested his strength was multiplying each time he engaged in combat?
Lacking a mentor or anyone to guide my cultivation, I had always desperately sought my own solutions to the fatigue that crippled me after intense engagements. My answers had always been medicinal elixirs and deep meditation. Even when recognizing the physiological restrictions of my form, I had persistently averted my gaze from the truth. Convincing myself that this solitary route was the correct one.
It was only through the precipice of mortality that enlightenment came. I had been traversing an incorrect path. Elixirs and meditation represented an effortless shortcut for me. Yet I needed to pursue the proper path, not the effortless one. Because the proper path is consistently grueling and agonizing, a person’s focus naturally drifts back toward the comfortable alternative.
*‘Precisely like these individuals right now.’*
The Wudang disciples who completely encircled me, glaring as though confronting their mortal foe. Acknowledging one’s transgressions and showing remorse is no simple feat, even for an ascetic who has spent a lifetime accumulating spiritual power (*do-ryeok*). It is entirely expected that these people would opt for the effortless shortcut.
*‘Which is why I must force them to see.’*
Wudang stands as the very foundation of orthodox martial arts within the *Kangho*. Unless my intention was to eradicate that foundation entirely and rewrite the whole *Kangho*, I had to fix the root itself. To show them that walking the proper path is ultimately the Established Path (*Jeong-do*) they boast about. Though the lesson will be excruciating, I must make them realize it is the singular route capable of averting total ruin and catastrophe. Exactly as I looked reality in the face and triumphed over the agony of life and death moments ago.
“So say it after me: we are already finished!”
*Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!*
Phantom blades and slashing energy tore through the area, breaking the Wudang combatants one after another. A few mindless fools lunged forward blindly, discarding the profound mechanics of Taiji entirely, as if such a reckless display could succeed. From the very start, our depths of internal energy were completely incomparable.
*Crack.*
“Kuaaaaaack!”
Accompanying a agonizing scream, an arm snapped at an unnatural joint. The Great Ocean Fist smashed directly into a midsection, erupting in a spray of blood. That individual would require extensive recovery before ever attempting martial arts again.
*Thwack.*
In identical fashion, after driving one opponent hard into the estate’s stone perimeter, the instant I targeted the next foe.
*Chak! Chak! Chak! Chak!*
Nine figures dropped from above, sealing me inside a perimeter.
*Ch-ch-ch-chak!*
Immediately after, twenty-seven more individuals formed a broader circle enveloping the outside.
*‘Nine Palaces Sword Formation!’*
The Wudang practitioners composing the Nine Palaces Sword Formation triggered their coordinated assault.
*Kugugugung.*
A suffocating gravity manifested from the core of the Nine Palaces Sword Formation, radiating its pressure across the entire battlefield.
*Chrrrrrrrrk.*
The martial artists anchored in the secondary perimeter and those stationed in the primary circle spun in perfect opposition, dynamically pooling and discharging their strength.
*Bang-bang-bang-bang!*
All at once, a tempest of blade energy began to rain down. Claiming the eight cardinal points in accordance with the profound tenets of the Nine Palaces, the concentrated force converged upon my entire body.
*Chrrrrrrrrrrrr.*
Between the flashing trajectories of the Nine Palaces God-Walking Sword executed by nine practitioners simultaneously, the Nine Palaces Linked Sword driven by twenty-seven others plunged forward in a coordinated ambush. It was a predicament offering absolutely no avenue for evasion or retreat. In times past, such a maneuver would have left me thoroughly unsettled. However—
*‘If there is no escape, I will simply shatter it!’*
A concentrated blade force spanning roughly a foot manifested along the edge of the Red Light Sword. In contrast to prior displays, its dimensions were drastically reduced, yet I felt no anxiety or hesitation. If anything, I felt absolute certainty. That this minimal output was more than enough.
In that exact instant, a doctrine from the martial art bequeathed by the Sword Demon…… no, by Baek Hae-gwang, resonated within my thoughts.
*Obliterate the adversary even while executing a guard. That is the definition of a flawless defense.*
White Moon Ascending Heaven Three Styles.
Second Style.
Extreme Strength (*Geuk-gang*).
An infinite torrent of crimson blade force collided with the incoming waves of sword energy. Had it not been universally acknowledged that Wudang’s blade energy, backed by the resonance of the Nine Palaces Sword Formation, rivaled pure blade force? The combined energies of the Nine Palaces successfully contained the expanding shockwave of my blade force.
*‘The greatest asset and the fatal flaw of any coordinated formation is its dependence on numbers.’*
Unless the participants have synchronized their movements over decades or possess minds that operate in absolute unison like the Gold, Silver, and Bronze brothers, structural vulnerabilities are inevitable in a sword formation. And provided an individual possesses the fortitude to endure the crushing pressure of the array, they can exploit those exact vulnerabilities and tear the alignment to pieces at will.
I caught sight of a man’s face buckling under the strain within the secondary perimeter.
*‘Found you!’*
His brows were knit tightly in a desperate struggle, indicating that resisting the raw power was pushed to its absolute threshold. I immediately channeled my internal reserves directly into that specific point, fracturing the weak link wide open.
*Cr-cr-crack.*
Originating from that singular point of failure, a lone strand of blade energy shattered. His surrounding peers scrambled to stabilize the breach by pouring in additional force, but my reaction was a breath faster.
*Pop!*
The blade force detonated violently, engulfing the Wudang figures in a vortex of raw energy, causing the meticulously organized Nine Palaces Sword Formation to buckle chaotically. A tactical array stripped of the geometric principles of the Nine Palaces was reduced to nothing more than an disorganized melee. And an disorganized melee is—
“Step right up, you bastards.”
Precisely my area of expertise.
Having fractured their array with pure blade force, I precipitated a deeper level of chaos by detonating waves of sword energy.
“Wh-what is happening!”
“I’ve been blinded!!”
“Where did that bastard go!”
Twisting my weapon, I mercilessly delivered the flat of the blade using the Small Heaven Sword Technique.
*Thwack! Thwack!
Smack! Crack!*
I methodically shattered their limbs, thighs, shins, ribcages, and every vulnerable point across their bodies one after another. For those lingering hesitantly at the rear, I concluded the encounter by snapping a bone or inflicting a minor wound. For those at the vanguard projecting unbridled bloodlust, I systematically severed their tendons and crippled their Dantians without exception.
“U-heok!”
“Keu-hu-heuk!”
“*Blegh*!”
Those possessing true resolve would eventually reconstruct their path, while those lacking it would fade away right here. Ultimately, it made no difference to me.
*‘It serves as a decent filtering process at this juncture.’*
The adversary we must collectively confront in the end is unmistakable. And to withstand that adversary, absolute cohesion is mandatory. The procedure of purging weaknesses is non-negotiable. Thus, it matters little whether they survive the trial and return, or crumble beneath it. In an exchange carrying zero risk, there was absolutely no rationale for clemency.
*Pop-pop-pop-pop!
Crunch.*
More than half of the Wudang detachment lay broken and bleeding, leaving fewer than thirty individuals still left standing. I directed my focus toward one particular figure.
“Hey there, Hall Master.”
The complexion of the Hall Master who had issued the command had gone completely bloodless.
“The subordinates are dropping like flies one by one; why don’t you step onto the field and join the fray?”
The Hall Master was shuddering violently from head to toe, looking as though he had looked upon a phantom.
“Y—you…… what under heaven…… what are you……”
To be fair, I couldn’t blame him for his shock. They likely never anticipated that the version of me who assisted Dam Ak’s flight and the version standing here now would be lightyears apart.
“I—I only sought to force a retraction of your statements. How did it come to this……”
The Hall Master questioned me, his expression revealing an utter inability to comprehend the reality unfolding before him.
“Can you…… can you truly shoulder the consequences…… after executing such an atrocity against Wudang?”
“Damn, anyone hearing you would assume I was the one who instigated this conflict.”
“A—conflict?”
“If you’re just going to stand there frozen like an idiot, you might as well start rooting for your men.”
*Sswwaeeek—*
A streak of slashing blade energy tore through the atmosphere, whistling directly toward the Hall Master like a beam of pure light.
“U-heok!”
Catching the threat at the absolute last second, the Hall Master frantically unsheathed his blade to mount a defense.
“Keu-heuk!”
Likely due to the concussive force of the sudden impact, he coughed up a spray of crimson.
“You really are full of excuses.”
A leader averting his eyes from reality while his subordinates were being systematically beaten into a pulp. Inexplicably, the sight mirrored the incompetent superiors from my past existence, leaving me feeling increasingly disgusted.
“Damn it, if you occupy a rank carrying enough authority to send men to their deaths, you should have at least possessed the resolve to absorb the heaviest damage!”
I unleashed the raw concussive force of the Myriad Transformations Matchless Fist directly at him. The incoming strikes were calibrated to obliterate nine primary pressure points along with his Dantian. I had no idea what sort of retaliation Wudang would mount in response to this action, but I refused to hold back.
*‘To hell with it, let whatever happens happen!’*
Just as those ten devastating fist strikes were on the verge of impacting the Hall Master’s frame.
*Fwoooosh.*
A pristine pale gale swept through. At least, that was the sensation it evoked. An immaculate white martial tunic devoid of a single speck of grime. A man clothed in that pristine attire materialized before the Hall Master with the fluidity of the wind, executing a smooth, gentle sweep of his blade. Immediately, the ferocious fist forces flying through the air altered their course as though swept along by a flowing river, detonating harmlessly as they dissipated in all directions.
*Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!*
Following the redirection, the man in the white tunic stood perfectly still, resting his unsheathed weapon casually behind his back as though nothing remarkable had occurred.
“Yong-so-ah.”
Yong-so-ah looked down upon the shattered, pitiful states of his fellow sect members with eyes completely devoid of warmth. As that flat gaze eventually shifted to lock onto me.
“Jin So-un. Precisely as I concluded, you are……”
His words vibrated through the air, completely level and stripped of any human emotion.
“An anomaly that cannot be permitted to exist.”
