Chapter: 462
Kwadeuddeudeuk-!!
A massive bowl shatters, and the water flowing out begins to engulf Gu Yangcheon.
Soon after, the seemingly endless space starts to gradually fill with the water that had burst forth.
“…”
Water reaches up to his toes.
As if standing on a tranquil lake, Shincheol calmly balances himself on the surface.
It remains perfectly still, without a single ripple.
The fragments of the broken vessel sink to the bottom. Somewhere in this vastness, Gu Yangcheon must also have submerged.
Sensing this, Shincheol quietly raises his head.
The sky is nowhere to be seen. All that surrounds him is nothing but pitch black darkness.
This is the inner space of Gu Yangcheon.
That dreadful darkness expresses the essence of Gu Yangcheon.
The rising water reflects the regret and foolishness of that guy.
“You pathetic fool.”
As he acknowledges this feeling, Shincheol mutters softly.
Striving to move forward, yet ultimately unable to overcome anything.
It’s merely the inner self of a child who has kept everything bottled up and endured it all.
Shincheol could only let out a hollow laugh at the wretched and chaotic state.
He simply gazes down at the floor.
Water fills the space.
He seeks out Gu Yangcheon, which must be locked somewhere in this realm.
Though Shincheol’s eyes dart around, nothing comes into view.
This signifies just how deep that guy’s attachment and regret run.
Seeing this, Shincheol shakes his head.
He respects the guy’s choice, yet he doesn’t know what awaits at the end.
‘No idea, huh?’
I wonder if that child will ever manage to open his eyes.
Even if he does open them, will he truly still be that child?
And if by some chance Gu Yangcheon opens his eyes as Gu Yangcheon—
Will he be able to properly tidy up all this mess of attachments and energies?
This was something even Shincheol couldn’t be certain of.
To begin with, the notion of becoming a different being was something unfathomable in Shincheol’s understanding.
As he quietly stares at the water,
Kuuuu-!
He feels the space tremble momentarily.
And then—
BANG-!
Swaaaaaaah-!!
Something enormous crashes into the waters, creating tremendous waves.
When the splashing water falls back down, it almost resembles rain.
“…”
Shincheol gazes at something writhing atop the water.
It was truly gigantic.
Big enough to fill this vast space. That pitch-black entity boasted a size larger than any creature Shincheol had ever encountered.
What a grotesque creature.
Hooook… whoosh…
It lies on the surface, exhausted and gasping for breath.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
Shincheol offers words of solace as he observes the curled-up figure.
In his eyes, he can only discern its size, unable to grasp its true appearance.
It’s because the disparity in the status of existence is just too vast.
It’s akin to the difference in perception that arises when the realms of martial artists are drastically different.
Initially, because of that difference, Shincheol feared it.
But now, the fear has somewhat dulled.
After all, since it too is straining for that useless fool without any self-awareness, he feels a sense of unnecessary kinship.
“… You must have had a tough time squeezing that huge body of yours into this little guy’s body to fight.”
Grrr… grrrung…
It writhes and gasps for air.
It almost seems like an answer.
Watching its breaths, Shincheol nods subtly.
“Now you can rest.”
It seems like the rest is his responsibility.
“Damn it.”
With a thick curse, Shincheol bursts into laughter.
Even after dying, he wonders what kind of maddening ordeal this is.
Looks like Hosang has indeed crossed the river.
With such trivial thoughts,
Shincheol gradually begins to emit plum blossoms.
“It must taste good.”
Upon hearing the playful tone, Cheonjon scowls.
What on earth did that guy just say?
“…What did you just say?”
“Repeating what’s already been said—didn’t you hear that? Tsk tsk, your ears must be already going deaf.”
“You rascal!”
Even in the face of Cheonjon’s wrath, Inyoung merely chuckles.
“Don’t shout. You’ve got quite a nice voice for a young one.”
“How dare you joke around with me, knowing who I am?”
“How could I not know? There’s only one place in the Central Plains that would serve up such cheap fare on such a fancy platter.”
Crack!
A harsh sound erupts from Cheonjon’s hand gripping the sword.
“Like a moth to a flame, huh? I spared you out of mercy, yet you clearly don’t know your place.”
It appears the odd fellow has regained his senses. Still, he seems a bit off his rockers.
Otherwise, it wouldn’t be possible for him to act like this.
Rumble-!
As Cheonjon takes a step forward, thunder cracks in the surrounding space.
The lightning starts to take shape in the air little by little.
All the formed lightning exudes a sharp aura.
There’s enough of it filling the space to make it hard to count.
“…”
It’s dazzling. That description fits it perfectly.
Observing it, Inyoung—
No, Shincheol—
“Tsk.”
He clicks his tongue briefly as if genuinely displeased.
“If Ming saw this, he’d come out of his grave and choke on his own blood.”
Though Shincheol harbors many ill feelings towards the Namgung family,
Due to the dealings of the Murong family, the Murong family… and more dealings.
Yet—
Even Shincheol acknowledges the black magic of the Namgung.
To be precise, it’s not the sword of the Namgung family, but rather the sword of Namgung Myeong, Noechon Ilgeom.
Shincheol observes the lightning.
Countless bolts, each charged with significant energy and enlightenment, were swirling.
“You idiots.”
To say this was the manifestation of the power of the Namgung family is incredibly humiliating.
“It’s not just that you’ve lost purpose—your very foundation has crumbled.”
A hollow laugh escapes him involuntarily.
The very meaning that Namgung Myeong risked his life to uphold has vanished.
Shincheol directs his gaze towards Cheonjon.
“Oh, yeah.”
“…What?”
Cheonjon furrows his brow, as if he misheard him.
“Aha? That was such a degrading title for an address.”
“What do you think Namgung’s sword is?”
“…Hah.”
Cheonjon’s expression darkens with anger at Shincheol’s inquiry.
What could he possibly mean by asking about the sword of the Namgung family? Does he dare question him?
To Namgung Jeilgeomin himself?
He barely manages to control his lips and replies to Shincheol.
“If your intention was to disturb my reason, I would say you’ve succeeded.”
Crackle-!
The lightning floating in the air generates a sharp sound, seemingly ready to pounce on Shincheol at any moment.
Additionally, a heavy pressure settles over the entire forest.
Emperor’s Sword Type.
The energy of Namgung’s lineage begins to erupt from Cheonjon’s body.
“…”
It’s a frightful scene that could make one’s heart skip a beat just by looking at it.
In such a dire situation, Shincheol remains calm.
No surprise there.
“It’s crude.”
From Shincheol’s viewpoint,
This was far too unrefined and unsightly to be termed as a modern martial art.
Shincheol experienced a mixture of stuffiness and tremors—but even that was far from pleasurable.
What’s worse, this is fake.
The genuine Emperor’s Sword isn’t something this crude—
It’s not merely about spreading intimidation and binding one’s limbs.
“Were you truly working just to leave behind such a mess?”
The image of his close friend, who stained his hands with blood just to preserve his sword, sparks a sense of nausea within.
It’s beautifully majestic.
But when one considers the essence of the Namgung family, such a display is intolerable.
“The essence of Namgung’s sword isn’t about flashiness.”
The martial arts Namgung Myeong displayed were intentionally without grandeur.
Rather, it could be more accurately described as rigid and monotonous.
“Martial arts lacking in significance hold no future.”
Recalling an ancient saying he once heard from the Head of the Wudang Sect, Shincheol takes a step forward.
His gaze remains firmly fixed on Cheonjon.
“The martial arts of the Namgung family never relied on flaming energy in the first place.”
At Shincheol’s declaration, Cheonjon’s anger grows deeper.
“Now you dare to teach me about Namgung’s techniques. Is that what you’re claiming?”
Has he truly lost his mind? Cheonjon no longer wished for any exchange with him.
“Because of the empty grandeur plastered on the surface, the foundational weight and solidity it needed have vanished.”
Though lightning is now referred to as the exclusive possession of the Namgung family,
Shincheol’s memories from the era of turmoil paint a different picture.
Lightning is merely a byproduct.
The Brain Heaven Sword truly used lightning to dominate the skies.
The strikes he unleashed had the might to erase Mount Tai.
However, Namgung Myeong himself never regarded his lightning as important.
What he aspired for was—
“To remain unbreakable.”
An unwavering resolve that never falters nor loses.
Using the quickest sword path, he maintained an unyielding trajectory.
With that power, he—
“To protect those dear to him.”
That was the sword of the Namgung family, the principle he sought to uphold.
Despite disliking his infuriating nature and handsome face,
It was something Shincheol truly wished to emulate.
His words weren’t lies; he wielded the swiftest sword, filled with the very essence of his intentions.
Yet—
“Your sword lacks it.”
Just an empty shell.
The sword Shincheol observed, the one wielded by the figure known as the Sword King, was just that.
The same goes for the sword now brandished by Cheonjon.
“No matter how I look at it, it doesn’t suit you to be revered as a noble one.”
“…Ino—!”
Shincheol’s declaration finally extinguishes what little reason remained within Cheonjon.
Unable to contain his wrath, he unleashes a furious roar, summoning lightning from all directions.
From afar, the sight is akin to a downpour.
This suggests an overwhelming number of lightning strikes.
They come pouring forth.
The energy infused with Cheonjon’s enlightenment rushes towards Shincheol in rapid succession.
If it met him head-on, it’d surely leave him unable to even collect his bones.
“I already mentioned,”
Snick!
Along with Shincheol’s calm voice, a single leaf flutters up from his toes.
It was a blue leaf.
While it’s right to refer to it as a spark, its shape and essence were closer to a flower petal.
“Martial arts devoid of purpose become useless, no matter their form.”
One single leaf dances upward, swaying gently.
Swish.
It begins to split slowly into two.
Fall… fall…
Then it divides into four once more.
Just before the lightning strikes Shincheol, those leaves continue to divide.
In no time at all, they ultimately blanket the sky.
“…Huh?”
Cheonjon is left speechless at that absurd sight.
SWOOSH-!
As the lightning torrents down mercilessly towards the ground, flower petals begin to adhere to it.
The lightning, now fused with the petals, begins to explode in the air with a thunderous boom!
PAAAAA-!
A continuous series of sounds echoes from the sky—every one a testament to lightning bursting upon contact with the leaves.
The remnants left in the wake of the explosion resemble fireworks lighting the night sky.
Yes, it bursts apart.
The enlightenment Cheonjon had accumulated until now is being detonated by those gentle flower petals.
“…This is ludicrous.”
Cheonjon cannot believe this unfolding reality.
He could understand it somewhat when facing a beastly foe.
When injured, they would regenerate, succumbing only to desire and charge forward. That was acceptable coming from a monster.
This, however, is simply—
‘Has enlightenment been devoured?’
The enlightenment Cheonjon had painstakingly achieved is now bested.
As he recalls the lightning being effortlessly swept away, it becomes clear.
Such an event can only happen if the opponent possesses a deeper understanding than oneself.
“…That cannot be.”
Even a sword master would find it impossible to tread upon with such lightness.
If it were a heavenly demon, perhaps it would be different.
Yet the opponent before him cannot be equated to a being of that caliber.
Thus, it becomes an absolutely implausible scenario.
And it’s a situation that must not exist.
Am I truly being overpowered?
This heavenly figure?
Creek-!
Cheonjon gnashes his teeth.
That can’t be true.
As the pride of Namgung and an embodiment of the skies, he cannot succumb to such an unknown entity.
Even if he faced extermination and stood alone, this reality shall not waver.
It must be as it is.
It must remain as so.
Facing the crumbling Cheonjon,
“Once the mind becomes clouded, even clarity will inevitably turn dark.”
Shincheol continues speaking.
“If that weren’t the case…”
Having directly engaged with the lightning, it becomes increasingly evident.
Even if Cheonjon hadn’t been possessed by darkness,
“Oh, dear. You probably wouldn’t have reached where you wished to go.”
“…This guy… Truly!”
“If you desire to curse the ancestors who failed to uphold their vows, feel free. I share that desire too.”
RUMBLE-!
As Shincheol’s mockery lingers, the air opens up, and light begins to coalesce into a singular mass.
Shincheol immediately recognizes what it is.
‘It’s a Heart Sword.’
The pinnacle of martial mastery.
It’s the divine essence of a sword technique only achievable by those who reach a realm of unity.
A sword forged from one’s heart.
There’s a saying it can cleave through anything merely by wishing to cut.
That, however, isn’t the essence of the Heart Sword.
Of course, if one desires, that’s certainly doable.
The Heart Sword undeniably possesses its own form.
What gathers in the air now is the embodiment of the Heart Sword.
A martial art that reflects the mind of the swordsman in the heart’s mirror.
He nods in appreciation.
Having refined a merely husk of martial arts, Shincheol acknowledges Cheonjon’s efforts as he simply reached this level.
“Not bad.”
The noble enlightenment attained by any martial artist is always commendable.
Even if the individual channeling it is consumed by anger, despair, and insecurity,
The span of his experiences does not vanish.
Thus,
It becomes imperative to enlighten him further.
“I’ve consumed so much that spreading it shouldn’t be an issue.”
Back then, when borrowing a body, he’d often be annoyed, wondering how such an insignificant body existed.
Now, however, it doesn’t seem too bad.
Both his physique is trained, and his stamina now exceeds all imagination compared to that time.
The emptiness felt from the damaged vessel is inevitable.
Yet the notion stands firm.
It indicates he can expose that lacking child to an entirely different world.
Shincheol extends his hand and delivers his declaration.
“Was this also fate?”
Wiggle.
Something stirs within his left arm.
Shincheol smiles as he senses that familiar movement.
Shincheol is a swordsman.
Ultimately, one needs a sword to execute martial arts, but currently, he possesses none.
This is due to the original owner of the body straying far from a swordsman.
Ideally, it should have been this way.
However,
Swish-
The bandage around his left arm unravels on its own before smoothly relocating to Shincheol’s hand.
The deep crimson bandage has shifted colors to a pale blue.
Shincheol pays no mind to such changes. The essence doesn’t vanish simply because the color has altered.
He merely gazes at the bandage, grinning.
With that sentiment, Shincheol names the bandage.
“It’s been a while, Gwijeong.”
Swish-!
Responding to Shincheol’s summon, the bandage morphs its form.
In a split second, it stacks upon itself, transforming into the shape of a sword.
This bandage is named Gwijeong.
It is originally a volcanic artifact and was once Shincheol’s treasured weapon.
‘That damn fellow treating this like mere bandage… tsk.’
He reflects on the rage that had boiled within.
While the real issue lay in the lack of proper explanation for its nature, at this juncture, it feels rather fortunate.
RUMBLE-!
In the sky, light begins to gently descend toward the ground.
Shincheol clutches the sword tightly, his gaze fixed.
In that moment,
FAAW-!
“…!”
The sky above Shincheol opens, revealing an abundance of light.
Gazing upon it, Cheonjon can’t conceal his shock.
It’s not just one.
At least three Heart Swords seem to emerge.
Overwhelmed by their quantity and grandeur, Cheonjon is rendered speechless.
“Oh, yeah.”
At that moment, Shincheol’s voice echoes in Cheonjon’s ears.
“In my time…”
For some reason, there is a hint of laughter embedded in that voice.
His expression might be difficult to discern within the shade, but Cheonjon can clearly recognize the truth.
He’s laughing.
Feeling such emotions, Shincheol articulates his thoughts.
“Back then, pulling out two or three of these was pretty standard for one to be called a swordsman.”
In an era marred by turmoil,
The time Shincheol lived in was truly like such.
My site has received a lot of DMCA notices, lol. From now on, I will update the MTL on https://darkmtl.com/.
The site is fast and lightweight because there are no ads yet. However, the theme is different from Cybor-TL, so take some time to familiarize yourself.
Support me by donating at least $10, and you'll have the right to request any novel from Novelpia (excluding 19+ content) using a newly developed tool.