15 – 01# A Narrow Escape (15)

Everything proceeded according to the Clan Lord’s plan.

To hold this person here until the Clan Lord could calm his mind and body with meditative breathing and arrive. Looking at the results alone, one could say the order was carried out perfectly.

But was this truly alright? That question snagged at Mo Yong-hui-soo’s ankles. The order to endure any sacrifice for the sake of the goal shook her heart.

It was only by the grace of the Great Warrior that he showed restraint. What if he hadn’t held back from the beginning, brandishing his sword without mercy? If he had even unleashed his sword ki, the symbol of transcendence?

Then there wouldn’t be a single martial artist standing here now. And that hypothesis turned into certainty as she watched the Clan Lord clash with the Great Warrior.

In that moment, the words the Great Warrior had spoken to her just before flashed through Mo Yong-hui-soo’s mind. Like a tranquil lake without a ripple. Those unwavering, resolute words.

[To remain silent in the face of one injustice, will eventually return to me ten-fold.]

‘The Great Warrior’s words are true without exception.’

The martial artists of the Mo Yong clan carry out the Clan Lord’s orders without question. Until now, she had believed that to be loyalty. Without realizing it was also condoning injustice…

“Master, shouldn’t we join the Clan Lord now?”

“No, we will not join the fray.”

“But…”

“All we can do right now is retreat, so we don’t get caught up in it.”

“As you command.”

Even as she gave the orders to her subordinates, Mo Yong-hui-soo couldn’t help but laugh wryly. Only an hour ago, she would have undoubtedly tried to help the Clan Lord, regardless of the cost.

Is this change truly right?

Or was it merely a fleeting whim?

Daring not commit to a definitive answer, Mo Yong-hui Su watched the battle of absolute masters unfold with rapt attention. Already a half-shichen had passed in clashing steel, yet the fight showed no sign of ending.

However, the martial artists who witnessed the spectacle forgot even the passage of time, staring blankly. They sensed a depth they could scarcely imagine themselves reaching.

But a sudden shift arrived in the duel that seemed destined to continue forever. A short cough, a hacking sound, followed by blood coughed from someone’s lips. It was Wuming.

“I blocked…surely I blocked every strike…?”

“Did you truly believe the Myori that the Mo Yong Clan pursues is merely swiftness of the blade?”

“……”

“Swiftness is but a path one traverses to reach the ultimate height.”

Mo Yong-gang openly sneered, mocking Wuming. The ignorant simpletons believe that the swordplay of the Mo Yong Clan simply chases after speed. How truly laughable.

The ultimate height the martial artists of the Mo Yong Clan had pursued until now did not reside in mere swiftness. The Mo Yong Clan had succeeded in imbuing their sword with nothing less than the laws and truths of the world.

The rain becomes a stream, the stream becomes a river, and the river finally flows into the vast ocean. The dragon, having experienced the entirety of this cycle, leaves the sea and ascends into the heavens, scattering rain.

That is the Myori of the Dragon contained within the blade.

The unity of offense and defense, the sword Qi, sought by the Mo Yong Clan.

The Righteous Dragon’s Soaring Flow Sword Technique.

The circulating Myori allowed Mo Yong-gang’s blade to easily receive Wuming’s attack. Clearly, Mo Yong-gang was on the defensive, but the circulation of Myori reversed the opponent’s blade.

It was not merely some paltry counterattack. Even though he was only defending, the opponent’s internal energy and Myori flowed back, overturning everything within.

And if Wuming were to defend, the situation wouldn’t be much different. Simply clashing swords was enough for the internal energy within to flow like water, constantly slashing at his body.

It was fortunate that his opponent was a master of equal standing. Otherwise, he would have been cut to ribbons long ago and fallen. Mo Yong-gang nodded, opening his mouth.

“For a nameless warrior, you have endured until now, which deserves commendation. But with only that much skill, you can not break the Myori of the Righteous Dragon’s Soaring Flow Sword Technique.”

“……It certainly seems that way.”

Even as he bled, Wuming adopted his stance once more. At that moment, a torrent of intense sword Qi began to engulf Wuming’s blade. Mo Yong-gang’s expression rapidly hardened as he witnessed this.

“……That, could it be Sword Qi?”

“It is.”

“I have never seen such Sword Qi so devoid of any Myori. And yet, it can be so immense… or is it merely an empty cart making a great racket?”

“One can only know the length by measuring.”

“……Yes, that’s right!! A martial artist should speak with his sword!!”

The hardened expression on Mo Yong-gang’s face instantly turned back into a smile. The fighting spirit that poured out of him made him seem far closer to a demonic leader of the Demonic Sect than a righteous martial artist.

But Wuming soon focused all his spirit on his blade. Surely, it was because he was facing a first-rate warrior. This was incomparably harder than any martial artist he had faced until now.

‘But it’s not as if there isn’t a way.’

To be frank, it was a gamble. A gamble with his life on the line. If he succeeded, victory would be his, but if he failed… his very life would be in danger.

Had Myeong-gang, too, discerned the unnamed one’s resolute will? He ceased his blathering and settled into a stance mirroring his opponent’s. A fleeting moment, stretched to the seeming of eternity, passed.

It was Myeong-gang, surprisingly, who launched the initial strike. He possessed unwavering confidence. The ultimate Formless Flying Sword, honed through generations of adherence to history and tradition, was, he believed, invincible.

Yet, at that very instant, the unnamed one reacted in perfect concert. Astonishingly, he chose not to defend or evade but to attack. His sword shot forth, a blinding flash that instantly closed the distance.

‘So swift…’

The tip of that lightning-fast blade, as it met Myeong-gang’s own, unleashed an impossible shockwave, shattering the sword and piercing his flesh. Myeong-gang’s body lifted helplessly into the air.

And then, he was sent hurtling, crashing to the earth. The warriors of the Myeong-gang Clan, witnesses to it all, were struck dumb with horror. The Formless Flying Sword was not merely a martial art of the clan.

It was the embodiment of the ultimate secrets the Myeong-gang Clan had pursued for generations. Yet this, had been shattered in a single stroke by a warrior of unknown name; their shock was inevitable.

But none could have foreseen the truth. That the ultimate secrets of the Myeong-gang Clan’s Formless Flying Sword had been defeated by a fragment of a technique barely worthy of being called a ‘form’, the Three Styles Sword.

Its name:

Thrusting Impulse 衝劍.

◇

Almost died, I swear.

Only after confirming that my opponent was truly defeated could I finally breathe easy. What was it he called it? Dragon Sword? Heavenly Sword? Too focused on the fight, I didn’t quite catch it.

Still, it wasn’t difficult to deduce its nature. In the world of martial arts, techniques that redirect an opponent’s force were surprisingly common. This was likely one such.

Therefore, a thrust, focusing all power on a single point, seemed more advantageous than a wide-sweeping cut, and seeing me standing here now, I must have been right.

“Daeshifu (Great Master)!!!”

“He saved you.”

Across the bridge, I saw Sua, Myeong-hyun slung across her back, waving. It seemed the rescue was successful. I smiled with satisfaction, turning my gaze upon the remaining warriors.

“If there are any among you who still desire to fight, then draw your swords!!!”

Pure bravado, of course. Truth be told, that last fellow had drained me. I could still fight, but at this point, the desire to rest outweighed everything else.

Thankfully, no one stepped forward to challenge me. Seeing them lower their weapons, I sighed in relief. Finally, some peace.

But such wishful thinking was short-lived. A sinister sound, like paper being violently torn, echoed from the very spot where I had sent that bothersome warrior flying.

Unbelievably, the man I had so soundly defeated was rising again. But it was clear he wasn’t right. His eyes were nothing but blank white, and drool dribbled from his mouth. Worry began to gnaw at me – had I broken him? Then, suddenly, a crimson aura began to flow.

This felt different from the white energy of that Dragon something sword technique, it was a foregin vibe. And to top it all off, was dyed red. “That’s… Demonic Qi?” I muttered involuntarily.

“Father?!”

Sua and I exchanged a glance without a word. Was it because they recognized this ominous power? Her face was a mask of shock and dismay.

“Do you perhaps have some idea about this dark energy?!”

“Father? Could this man be the head of the Myeong-gang Clan?”

And, truth be told, I wasn’t so different.