Chapter 1672
Isn’t this the situation you were hoping for? (2)
Jo Geol’s eyes flared up in an instant.
As Mount Wudang, which had been faintly visible in the distance, became clearer, he realized.
“It’s red…”
At first, he thought he was seeing things.
But comparing it to the surrounding mountains made it clear. Wudang Mountain was vividly stained red up to its midpoint.
“Sahyeong! Look at that!”
“A fire…?”
Yoon Jong’s face also turned serious in an instant.
The thought of a fire capable of burning more than half of such a massive mountain was unimaginable. Yoon Jong gritted his teeth.
“What a monstrous act!”
Even from a distance, merely looking at the mountain allowed him to fully feel the crisis Wudang was currently facing.
“Hurry, Geol!”
“Yes, Sahyeong!”
As they rushed forward, Yoon Jong unknowingly clenched his fist tightly.
‘Hold on!’
They would arrive soon, very soon.
Yoon Jong fervently hoped that the name Wudang would still remain in the world until then.
❀ ❀ ❀
Woooong!
The air was filled with a sound akin to a swarm of bees, as countless hand shadows covered the sky. The dazzling display of myriad forms sketched by the palms was enough to leave one’s mind reeling just from facing it.
What is real, and what is fake?
It was the pinnacle [극치(極致)] of illusion [환(幻)], a move that seemed to prove why Cheon Myeon Susa was called the Greatest Hand on the Evil Path [사도제일수(邪道第一手)].
Even Heo Gong seemed unable to find a way to deal with this brilliant palm technique [장공(掌功)], so he quickly retreated and floated backward.
But seasoned Cheon Myeon Susa was not going to let Heo Gong slip away so easily. With a twisted smile, he pursued Heo Gong, closing the distance swiftly. Simultaneously, the number of palm shadows encompassing the surroundings increased even more.
Countless hands reached out toward Heo Gong. It was a sight that evoked not just awe but even a sense of eeriness, as if ghosts, bewitched by the vitality of the living, were rushing in a frenzy.
Paaang!
Heo Gong’s sword stretched sharply toward the palm shadows. With the power of yin and yang combined, the sword of Taiji split the sea-like palm shadows in an instant.
But.
Wooooong!
Heo Gong’s eyes widened. The space that had been cut by the sword was quickly beginning to fill with more and more palm shadows, like a split river refilling its bed.
In a panic, Heo Gong rolled back, twisting his body.
Thud! Thud!
At that moment, with a sound like a leather drum being struck, Heo Gong staggered heavily and was flung back. He barely managed to stop himself and glanced down at his body.
The impact points were his left shoulder and right side. Not only had his clothing in those two areas turned to dust, revealing bare skin, but his skin also bore bluish bruises in the shape of palms. It was as if the palm shadows had been vividly imprinted on his body.
A sharp pain surged through him, as the evil energy that had entered his body along with the palm shadows seemed to burn his flesh as if with a hot iron.
Staring at the marks with a hardened face, Heo Gong fixed his gaze back on Cheon Myeon Susa, who appeared relaxed and opened his mouth slowly.
“Where is Heo Do?”
At those words, Heo Gong’s expression grew even colder.
“Even a tiger’s cub is just a cub. The burden is too heavy for you. Bring Heo Do. To face me, it should be someone of his caliber.”
The sword that had been lowered twitched slightly.
“Or else?”
Cheon Myeon Susa let out an unabashed sneer.
“Has that esteemed Heo Do already fled? Well, he was always quick-witted, so it’s no surprise. Does that mean only foolish ones remain?”
Fury rose in Heo Gong’s eyes.
“Does a mere thug of an Evil Sect dares to confront the Sect Leader of Wudang?”
“Hmm?”
“This is only the beginning. Someone like me is enough for you. Paegun’s lackey.”
Cheon Myeon Susa’s eyes gleamed with interest.
Indeed, there is something amusing about those of the Just Sect. The Evil Sects are inherently sensitive to differences in power. Therefore, members of the Evil Sects rarely engage with someone stronger than themselves.
But those from the Just Sects, even when they know the opponent is stronger, rarely back down. Even though they know it might hasten their demise.
“If you truly wish for it, there’s no choice. I’ll have to teach you your place with your life.”
Tap.
Cheon Myeon Susa’s hand once again scattered a dazzling array of palm shadows.
The Hundred Faces Hand [백면수(百面手)].
Before Cheon Myeon Susa claimed it as his signature technique, it was known as the Wandering Illusionary Playful Hand [소요환희수(逍遙幻戲手)], an unrivaled palm technique of the Evil Path.
The countless palm shadows seemed to multiply, spreading further, overlapping, and engulfing the sky.
Deceive, tease, and toy.
The very form of this palm technique seemed to perfectly describe the Evil Sects, targeting the entire body of Wudang’s greatest talent, without any intention of hiding the thick killing intent within.
A terrifying sight, as if the entire world had been filled with palm shadows.
The massive wave formed by the palm shadows surged towards the sky, as if to sweep away any obstacles in its path. In this desperate situation, Heo Gong neither resisted nor struggled against the wave. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked directly at it.
‘Can I do it?’
Perhaps he could not have done it. Not if he hadn’t seen it. Not if he hadn’t experienced it.
But…
Softly.
Heo Gong’s sword moved gently. It was not the rough sword that tried to tear and cut through the palm technique just moments before. It was a sword that flowed smoothly, as if embracing everything around it.
The sword’s tip slowly extended toward the palm shadows that coiled around and rushed at him as if to mock him.
Swirl.
A distinct circle formed.
A circle is a symbol of origin and completion, but the meaning of the circle Heo Gong was drawing now was slightly different.
The vivid circle created an unshakeable root. No matter how the world trembles, it is a firm and deep root that is never swayed – a root like the ancient pine of Wudang growing atop a cliff.
And at that moment, Heo Gong dashed forward like a flash of lightning and thrust his sword.
Kaaaang!
A strong impact sound burst forth, and with a noise like metal striking metal, the palm shadows that had covered the world disappeared as if it were all a lie.
A brief silence fell.
Cheon Myeon Susa’s face, disguised as a fake, still couldn’t hide the surprise that flashed in his eyes. This was because Heo Gong’s Pine Crest Sword had accurately pierced the center of his extended palm.
‘What?’
But before he could process this further, Heo Gong’s sword moved as if to slice his body apart. Cheon Myeon Susa gasped involuntarily and flipped his body.
Swish!
A sharp pain flared across his cheek. The sword tip had cut through his cheek and even sliced through his shoulder.
Thump.
Cheon Myeon Susa, who had retreated almost to the edge of the cliff, touched his cheek. Beneath the familiar texture of the mask, he felt his own skin, now unfamiliar to him. The sensation of damp blood was unmistakable.
Cheon Myeon Susa’s face twisted in anguish.
“How..?”
Among the hundreds of illusions, there was one true move hidden. In that brief moment, Heo Gong had accurately pinpointed the true move within the Hundred Faces Hand, something no one had ever grasped before.
Even those stronger than him had never accomplished this. If breaking this technique had been easy, it would not have been called the greatest palm technique of the Evil Sects.
Thus, Heo Gong had achieved something that even the esteemed Heo Do might not have been able to guarantee.
Heo Gong calmly retrieved his sword and stared at Cheon Myeon Susa, who was trembling with confusion and anger.
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”
“What?”
“If this had been my first time, I probably wouldn’t have even been able to react.”
Now the situation had shifted, and Heo Gong continued in a much calmer voice.
“But I have already experienced it before. A martial art more dazzling and more splendid than this. While Sapaeryeon brought humiliation to Wudang, I learned defeat from that sword.”
“…”
“I’ve waited for the day when I could break that sword. So, someone like me cannot be defeated by your mere illusions.”
Cheon Myeon Susa’s eyes sparked. He wiped the blood flowing from his face with his sleeve and asked through clenched teeth.
“More dazzling, more splendid? Are you saying that my palm technique is second-rate?”
“Not second-rate. But it’s certainly not up to the sword I know.”
A look of extreme humiliation appeared on Cheon Myeon Susa’s face.
“This… someone who knows nothing of the world dares to!”
Grind.
The sound of Cheon Myeon Susa grinding his teeth in fury echoed ominously over the White-Faced Cliff.
Of course, he didn’t think his martial arts were invincible. But he believed they were not something to be dismissed by a young brat like that.
“I intended to kill you anyway… but with those words, you’ve lost even the chance to die gracefully.”
“That’s what I was hoping for.”
Heo Gong gripped his sword tightly.
He knew. It was partly luck. The palm technique of Cheon Myung Susa wasn’t something that could be easily broken.
Yet, knowing this, Heo Gong didn’t cower. If he couldn’t break even this palm technique, if he couldn’t stand against this illusion filled with false moves, then he would never be able to face that terrible sword where truth and falsehood intertwine so dazzlingly. He knew this well and didn’t shrink back – he couldn’t afford to.
‘Hwasan Shinryong!’
Or was he now called Hwasan Geomhyeop?
‘Wudang’s sword does not sway!’
That one duel shattered his confidence, his sword, and his world.
If he shrank back here, wouldn’t it mean he hadn’t taken a single step forward since then?
Wudang’s sword is Taiji. Taiji is harmony and origin. Therefore, Wudang’s sword is not swayed by any illusion.
“Don’t you understand? Do you know what it means that Heo Do Jinin isn’t here? I’ll show you clearly what happens to dogs abandoned by their master!”
Heo Gong bit his lip as he watched the formidable aura of the approaching Cheon Myeon Susa.
‘Sect Leader!’
His sword unleashed a mighty sword cry.
❀ ❀ ❀
“Hmmm?”
A coy voice flowed out smoothly.
The corners of bright red lips curled up slightly. The expression, contrary to the voice, was as innocent as a child discovering something intriguing and amusing.
“This is… a little unexpected, isn’t it?”
The eyes, with their lustrous, pale color, looked intently at the person standing in front of them.
An old Taoist monk wearing Wudang’s black martial robe. No, at this moment, it was more fitting to call him a swordsman with a sharp, cold-edged blade rather than a Taoist.
Such a person was blocking the path of Jang Ilso with an aura as finely honed as a meticulously forged blade.
“Hmm, I see…”
Jang Ilso scratched his forehead lightly, as if troubled, and sighed.
“That… was Heo Do Jinin, wasn’t it?”
The eyes of Heo Do Jinin, Wudang’s swordsman, gleamed with a fierce, cold killing intent.
“This is as far as you go, Paegun.”
Srrrng.
Heo Do Jinin’s sword was slowly drawn. The sword, steeped in intense bitterness, carried a killing intent sharp enough to slice flesh.
“This is not… very pleasant.”
Jang Ilso’s eyes softened gently, like a crescent moon.
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