Chapter 300: Southern Barbarian Beast Palace (5) |
300. Southern Barbarian Beast Palace (5)
When he contemplated inwardly, he saw the shape of a massive serpent hidden within the buried killing intent.
The Azure Cold Serpent.
Just as the Beast Palace Lord had said, it was surely the remnant left behind by that creature moments before death.
However, its form merely existed. It didn’t react to his willpower; it only glared at him.
“Well, it’d be stranger if it meekly obeyed the one who killed it.”
It wasn’t as though he had simply killed the Azure Cold Serpent alone. During the process of weakening it with the Killing Despair Poison, its children—the Azure Cold Serpentlings—had also been wiped out.
He didn’t think a dead creature would retain actual will… and it wasn’t something left behind with any positive intention, so naturally it was difficult to handle.
It didn’t harm him in any way, and although it came with a few conditions, it was practically no different from strengthening his killing intent—so it was actually helpful. He could just leave it be.
Seeing it directly, he understood why the spirit beasts and the Beast Palace martial artists found his killing intent overwhelming.
What the Azure Cold Serpent had left him was its presence.
A marker attached to the one who had killed it—its immense might was something beasts would instinctively sense and fear.
Even if no real power remained, this level of presence alone was practically a supernatural function.
If he could make use of it somehow, it would help. He could already think of half a dozen ways to incorporate it into martial arts.
The simplest use was the same as in the Beast Palace—subduing those weaker than he with greater efficiency.
A bit more advanced application: firing off pure momentum first to disrupt the opponent’s sensory perception.
And perhaps…
Perhaps something even beyond that was possible.
Willpower was intent and thought. In that sense, what the Azure Cold Serpent had left him was a simple thought without will. A half-formed willpower.
Even if not a martial artist, it had reached the Flowering Stage as a spirit beast. It wasn’t strange for it to have handled willpower, even incompletely.
What mattered here was that no matter how immense the serpent’s lingering thought was, it lacked will.
Normally, it should have burst out and scattered emotions or memories not his own, disordering his heartscape.
But no such thing had happened because his killing intent had suppressed it completely.
Thought was powerful energy by itself, but without the direction of will, it dispersed meaninglessly.
And killing intent was itself a form of willpower most heavily infused with the intent to harm.
The mere fact that he had felt no abnormalities was proof that his own killing intent—and the will within it—completely overwhelmed the serpent’s residual thought.
If he used this properly, he could overlay his own will atop the Azure Cold Serpent’s thought and direct its strength however he wished.
“No… not quite.”
Directionless power was like a phantom. If it were truly just a simple thought, it would have been swept away and erased when he heightened his killing intent.
But the serpent’s form appeared when he heightened his killing intent, and vanished when he dispelled it.
As if it were melted into his killing intent itself.
Meaning… it was melted into the uniquely exclusive nature of killing will…
“Calling it half-formed may have been unfair.”
It had lacked volume compared to its thought—but it had contained will.
Likely because the Azure Cold Serpent had died while rampaging in a state of qi deviation.
If so, a question naturally followed.
Even if the ratio of will to thought was imbalanced, willpower was still willpower. A power capable of the impossible wouldn’t be used simply to leave behind a marker.
So, why had it embedded itself in killing intent…?
“Ah. So that’s what it is.”
What the Azure Cold Serpent desired was, naturally, his death.
Since it originated from killing will, it was obvious that it would sharpen whenever he raised his killing intent, then scatter.
Wasn’t that a common saying? “Even as a ghost, I’ll kill you.”
Normally a mere threat that only made the listener uncomfortable.
But the Azure Cold Serpent had truly infused power into that sentiment.
If he guessed correctly, something bad should have happened every time he heightened his killing intent or harmed someone.
Impurities in his willpower causing deviation… or, as he initially feared, the serpent’s emotions or memories trying to erode him.
How such a thing was possible, he didn’t know. But it wasn’t entirely unthinkable.
He had already personally experienced forces beyond martial arts—mental restrictions and the Demon Bell, among others.
And above all, the Azure Cold Serpent was a spirit beast that wielded the power of nature itself, reaching the Flowering Stage through means he could not understand.
In the Murim, the common sense was that only internal energy could block internal energy.
But the serpent’s snowstorm distorted even the energy he sent forth, and its icy scales casually blocked sharp blade-qi.
Just because he didn’t understand it didn’t mean it was impossible.
However, the reason the serpent’s final curse had no effect on him was…
“Lucky, I suppose.”
Because the serpent’s embedded will was based on killing intent.
Its qi had already been in chaos, it couldn’t properly wield willpower—and of all things, it was killing intent, his specialty.
He had even reached the Flowering Stage by overcoming killing intent.
Since he no longer needed to cling to killing intent, killing intent also held no sway over him.
Thus, the Azure Cold Serpent’s final struggle amounted to nothing.
“I’m finally starting to understand everything.”
Whether it harmed him or not, willpower was willpower. Someone else using half-baked methods could never handle it.
Yes—if they were half-baked methods.
He recalled the only ones who reacted to the remnants of the Azure Cold Serpent: the Beast Palace martial artists and their beast companions.
It made sense that sensitive beasts would fear it. Before a stronger predator, fear was a survival instinct.
But why did the Beast Palace martial artists, unlike ordinary people, react to his killing intent?
Meng Yubaek and the Seven-Flame Five Poisons centipede—neither had been directly exposed to his killing intent, yet Meng Yubaek was comfortable around him while the Fire Centipede found him difficult.
Above all—the Beast Palace Lord. His qi and the black panther’s qi circulated between their bodies as if they were one.
Yes, they were touching physically… but that he, long since poisoned, was still alive and able to go outside while riding the panther’s back was surely related.
“Do they share?”
Senses, internal energy—and at times, thoughts shared back and forth.
Perhaps that was the fundamental principle behind the Beast Palace’s martial arts.
Unlike the Thousand Poison Gate, which treated venomous creatures as disposable, the Beast Palace cherished beasts as family for this very reason.
If so, then Meng Yubaek remained unaffected because she had tamed the Fire Centipede with the secret arts of the Five Poisons Sect, so it did not share senses with her like the Beast Palace method.
And perhaps the answer lay there.
“Should I give it a try?”
With the restoration of Thunder Heaven Divine Art mostly complete, this was the first clear direction he’d encountered in a while during his otherwise aimless training.
***
In conclusion, he failed.
“This is ridiculously difficult.”
A sigh escaped him the moment he finished contemplation and opened his eyes.
It was only natural—he was trying to use a martial art principle he had never practiced before, to swallow someone else’s willpower for the first time.
If he succeeded in a single day, that would be stranger.
He loosened his slightly stiff body from sitting cross-legged and looked at Seo Mun-Hwarin sprawled across the enormous bed.
Surprisingly, Seo Mun-Hwarin was training in that posture.
Her eyelids twitched faintly, and the subtle tremors across her body suggested she was sparring within her heartscape.
Indeed, unless one needed deep contemplation like earlier, there was no real need to sit cross-legged.
After reaching the Flowering Stage, the efficiency of physical training dropped sharply except when loosening the body or testing a completed sword technique.
Even when he refined Thunder Heaven Divine Art to create the Roaring Thunder Sword, he had done all of it within his heartscape without swinging a blade.
He had sat cross-legged out of habit—but next time, he would try relaxing like Seo Mun-Hwarin.
Glancing around, Tang Sowol was struggling alone at her desk, combining various poisons.
Seol Lihyang was not in sight, but extending his sensory perception slightly, he felt her training not far away—probably in the training yard.
As for Meng Yubaek… well, she’d handle herself.
It wasn’t as though she would get assassinated after coming all the way to the Beast Palace, especially now that even the second child had been exposed as a killer beast.
He nodded and carefully sat on the edge of the main bed.
At that moment, Seo Mun-Hwarin, previously lying spread-eagle at the center, slowly opened her eyes.
“Oh dear. Did I interrupt you, Senior Seo Mun-Hwarin?”
“That is not so. This One was just about to pause, for hunger had begun to stir when thou arrived.”
“That’s fortunate. I’m starting to get hungry as well—shall we ask for a meal together?”
“Mm-mm. This One anticipates the cuisine of the Beast Palace greatly. Even within Sichuan, the culinary culture differs vastly from the Central Plains, and Southern Barbarian lands have entirely different vegetation—this One cannot even imagine the taste.”
“I don’t know what they’ll serve, but since it’s from the Beast Palace, the flavor should be guaranteed.”
“Oho! Thou knowest well!”
“We’ve traveled together long enough, haven’t we? You really do have a hearty appetite.”
“Mmm. ‘Tis because This One is still growing.”
“?”
He looked at her still lying down. Maybe it was because the bed was large, but she seemed smaller than usual.
“Thy gaze is impure. Unlike thee, whose growth hath ceased, This One is still growing taller!”
“Yes, well.”
She would grow. Before regression, Seo Mun-Hwarin had been longer by about a finger joint or two.
Meaning, she would grow only a finger joint or two more from now.
He looked at her with brief pity—then suddenly remembered something and spoke.
“This is a bit sudden, but I have something to ask, Senior.”
“Fear not. Did not Sowol recently find a method? Even if thy height remains the same, this part shall grow splendidly—thou need only look forward to it.”
Proudly thumping her chest, Seo Mun-Hwarin earned a slow shake of his head.
“That’s not it. Since you also helped defeat the Azure Cold Serpent, I wondered if it left anything behind in you, like it did in me.”
He was fine—he had handled killing intent among the greatest in the Central Plains, and he had even reached the Flowering Stage by overcoming it.
But Seo Mun-Hwarin was not the same. He worried that she might unknowingly be affected by the serpent’s will, her heartscape in disorder.
“In truth, This One also became curious after hearing the Beast Palace Lord’s words, so This One checked immediately.”
“And?”
“Clean. This One felt nothing. To be certain, This One even asked other Beast Palace warriors to test their killing intent upon This One—but it was no different.”
“We defeated it together, so why was only I cursed while you’re perfectly fine?”
It was good news, but somehow irritating—his complaint slipped out.
Seo Mun-Hwarin curled her lips in amusement.
“’Tis because thou didst slice off its neck at the end, is it not?”
“Well… yes, but…”
“And unlike the adorable This One, art thou not rather frightening in battle? ‘Tis natural thou wouldst be hated more!”
He tugged at her cheek for spouting such nonsense.
“Nnaaat!”
Her cheek stretched like rice cake. Annoyed, he tugged the other cheek as well.
Swwwip!
“S-stop! The adorable This One’s cheeks shall tear!”
He looked down at Seo Mun-Hwarin, helpless beneath his grip, her legs kicking uselessly.
Hm.
She was cute.