30

-Second Move-

Chui gripped the staff tightly.

The enemy before him was a towering wall of strength, one that crude tricks like hammers, awls, or caltrops would never work against.

Only by pouring all of his strength into this single staff could he hope to break through.

Tssssssss…

Chui drew up the power of the spear-wraiths.

He had crossed the threshold of the tenth layer of the Excavation Stage and entered the first layer of the Yiol Stage, allowing him to wield deeper and heavier inner power than before.

“…!”

Namgung Cheon’s eyes widened as he sensed the inner power Chui was gathering.

Kwa—kwaaang!

Chui’s staff shot forward like a harpoon.

Multiple layers of the air were pierced through.

A massive cloud of dust erupted, ripping grass and shrubs out by the roots and flinging them away.

Facing Chui’s attack head-on, Namgung Cheon let out a sigh.

“If I’d known something like this was coming, I shouldn’t have offered any concessions at all. Or at least I should’ve used my sword…”

Before his muttering even finished, Chui’s staff crashed down toward Namgung Cheon’s body.

Just before the black trajectory buried itself into his abdomen, Namgung Cheon’s eyes flashed blue.

Whirl—shrrrlick!

Namgung Cheon spun like a top, twisting his arms to the limit so the staff grazed past his body instead of striking it directly.

At the same time, he countered with a Golden Silk Hand technique infused with the subtle principles of Grafting Blossoms.

Screech—shiiiiik!

Steam rose from Namgung Cheon’s grip.

At the same moment, the long sleeve of his robe was dragged into the staff, producing a violent scraping sound.

Riiip—!

With the sound of fabric tearing, the trajectory of the staff twisted.

Puh—bang!

Chui’s staff sliced through empty air and soared upward.

Whether it was imagination or not, the clouds in the sky seemed to split cleanly to either side.

“…”

Chui withdrew his staff without gaining anything.

Steam like boiling water rose from Namgung Cheon’s palm, yet not a single drop of blood was visible.

Whoosh!

The heat generated by the friction of metal and flesh set Namgung Cheon’s robe hem and sleeves ablaze.

“Hoo—”

Namgung Cheon blew on the sleeve, extinguishing the flames.

Though the fire had leapt higher than a man’s height, it vanished with a single deep breath, leaving only thick smoke behind.

“Three moves left.”

Namgung Cheon’s voice remained relaxed.

Chui, too, calmly readjusted his grip on the staff.

The third move was being charged.

Crack!

Chui twisted every muscle in his body to its limit, then released them all at once, focusing the force at the tip of the staff.

The power of the spear-wraiths surged up from the base, stretching outward in a vivid crimson.

Like the eyeball of a monster, it condensed at the tip of the staff, dripping bloody tears.

Chui swung the staff once over his head, drawing a semicircle.

When the arc began at one vertex and ended at the other, the blood-red curve drawn in the air transformed into a straight line aimed forward.

Kwaaang!

The ground beneath Chui’s feet caved in, cracking in all directions.

“Tsk!”

This time, even Namgung Cheon frowned and clicked his tongue.

Chui’s momentum had grown fiercer and more alien than before.

If earlier it had been like a whaler hurling a harpoon at a whale, now it was like a battering ram charging at full speed into a fortress gate.

Buuuuung!

Black and red spiraled together, a dark crimson trajectory racing straight toward the center of Namgung Cheon’s torso.

-Third Move-

Namgung Cheon pressed his lips together and raised his wrist.

“…”

At last, the tip of Chui’s staff met Namgung Cheon’s wrist at a single point.

Kang!

It was the sound of weapons colliding, though it was metal striking human bone.

Chui nearly lost his grip on the staff.

Ziiiiing…

A terrifying recoil traveled up the staff.

It felt like striking a mountain made of iron.

Ripripripriprip! Puhpuhpuhpuhpung!

From the backlash of clashing inner power, the skin of Chui’s hands split apart, followed by the muscles of his wrists and forearms bursting open.

Both of Chui’s arms were dyed crimson all the way up to his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Namgung Cheon remained composed.

“Stings a bit. Rainy days might be troublesome from now on.”

He spoke while rubbing the wrist that had blocked the staff with his other hand.

“Looks like you served in the army?”

It was an offhand question about the past.

Yet his guess was terrifyingly precise.

“The staff—or rather, the spear—did you learn it on the battlefield against the barbarians? That Poison Dragon Emerges from the Cave technique just now was heavily modified from the basics. You’ve honed only the absolute fundamentals of spear technique to the extreme. Completely practical combat form. But this level shouldn’t be possible at your age…”

Chui did not answer.

Namgung Cheon hadn’t truly expected one anyway; he was merely talking to himself.

Reading Chui’s stance with his eyes, Namgung Cheon continued.

“You’ve only been using six techniques: seal, close, seize, pull, upper block, lower block. Strange. It’s military spearwork, but not an officer’s—this is the art of a common soldier. Doesn’t seem like you’re the scion of a general’s house. Or are you still hiding your strength? Hmm?”

Namgung Cheon kept observing Chui.

From the moment Chui fought Namgung Paengsaeng until now, he hadn’t looked away even once.

‘A sticky old man,’ Chui thought.

Once again, he turned his gaze away from Namgung Cheon’s curiosity-filled stare.

“Two moves left now. Ah—shall I let the first move slide? I did cheat, after all.”

“…No need.”

At last, Chui unleashed the fourth move.

Whooooom—whooooom—whooooom—

As he spun the staff, a black whirlwind surged forth.

Kuuuuoooooo…

Violent winds shaved the ground, wrapping the debris into the vortex.

Then, gripping the staff tightly, Chui swung it horizontally.

Like swinging a bat to strike a flying ball.

Whoo—woooooosh!

A tremendous pressure burst forth, the centrifugal force of the whirlwind carried intact as the tip of the staff flew toward Namgung Cheon’s waist.

It was the very move that had taken the lives of Joyangja and Namgung Paengsaeng.

“…!”

Namgung Cheon raised both arms to shield his face and torso.

-Fourth Move-

At last, Chui’s staff struck both of Namgung Cheon’s forearms.

Crack!

The sound was like lightning splitting a massive jujube tree in two.

Namgung Cheon grimaced and was pushed back half a step.

Chui, on the other hand, staggered back five steps.

Rip! Squelch! Dripdripdrip…

The muscles of the arm holding the staff were torn and ruptured, little better than rags.

Namgung Cheon slowly rubbed his forearms and said,

“A fine Horizontal Sweep of a Thousand Troops. My bones are tingling.”

Chui nodded, returning the compliment.

Meanwhile—

“…”

“…”

“…”

The spectators watching the clash stood dumbfounded, mouths agape, unaware of the dust pouring in.

Who was Namgung Cheon?

He was the Sword King.

One of the supreme masters of the Fifteen Provinces, said to be closest to being the strongest under heaven.

That such a young man could push back—even by half a step—the living symbol of the old martial world and the pinnacle of the previous generation was utterly beyond common sense.

…And yet, the two protagonists creating this impossible scene remained utterly calm.

“Hohoho—only one move remains.”

“…”

Chui tightened his grip on the staff.

The fifth move. The final one.

Tssssssss…

Just then, as Chui had anticipated, a change occurred within his dantian.

‘At last, it has submitted.’

The spear-wraith of Namgung Paengsaeng, whom he had killed earlier, had finally fully bowed to Chui’s command.

Woooooo…

Namgung Paengsaeng’s spear-wraith, whose blood had not yet dried, surged up the shaft of the black staff.

Entwining with Joyangja’s spear-wraith, it transformed into a horrific shape, spewing dreadful death screams.

Namgung Paengsaeng, shedding hot bloody tears as he was forced into labor.

His resentment became Chui’s inner power, blazing fiercely at the tip of the staff.

The first layer of the Yiol Stage.

Chui leapt beyond it in a single bound and now stood at the second layer.

Crimson energy burst wildly from his entire body.

Chui looked like a blood demon that had just crawled out of a pool of gore.

Yet since this was a martial art not yet revealed to the world, no one thought of it as a demonic art.

“W-what kind of martial art is that?”

“I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it.”

“Truly terrifying. I’ve never seen such a ferocious art in my life.”

“I’ve never heard of such a martial art in the righteous, unorthodox, or demonic paths alike.”

All they could do was instinctively retreat, overwhelmed by the alien pressure and the stench of blood pouring from Chui.

Then—

Puh—bang!

Chui leapt.

The black staff, now drawing in even Namgung Paengsaeng’s spear-wraith, shot toward Namgung Cheon with speed and power beyond any comparison to before.

“…! …! …!”

Namgung Cheon’s expression changed drastically.

The staff, carved into a hexagonal shape, its blunt tip somehow looked terrifyingly sharp—like a spear point.

A dreadful blade that, once it pierced through, would never let go.

Its tip surged toward him in a red, savage, violent rush.

-Fifth Move-

In a split second, Namgung Cheon made his decision.

Not through reason, but through a martial artist’s instinct.

He tried to block the incoming staff with his palm—

Shrring—

Then hurriedly pulled both hands back and drew the sword at his waist.

Kang!

The inner power erupting from Chui’s staff collided with the inner power scattering from Namgung Cheon’s sword.

Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-bang!

With a thunderous explosion, fragments of torn inner power scattered everywhere.

The ground split, rocks were punched full of holes, and trees were burned away.

At the very moment when every spectator dropped to the ground, clutching their heads—

Tap!

Chui retreated.

The instant his final strike was blocked by Namgung Cheon’s sword, he used the rebound force created by the collision of inner powers to dash away like the wind.

“Huh!?”

A few Namgung clan warriors tried to stop him, but they couldn’t even graze the edge of Chui’s shadow.

Puhpuhpuhpuhpung!

In the blink of an eye, Chui vanished from the scene.

Leaving behind only a red wind and a thick stench of blood.

After the opponent had gone, only Namgung Cheon and the crowd remained at the battleground.

“…Well now.”

Namgung Cheon looked down at his sword with a hollow expression.

The blade that had collided with the staff was split clean in two.

The cut surface drooped and melted, as if it had been dipped into a furnace.

Namgung Pa rushed over to Namgung Cheon’s side.

“Father, shall we pursue him!?”

“Leave it.”

Namgung Cheon shook his head and discarded the sword.

“That boy never intended to fight from the start. He planned to flee with the final move.”

“If we pursue him now, we can catch him.”

“And then?”

“Yes?”

“What would you do if you caught him?”

“Well…”

As Namgung Pa hesitated, Namgung Cheon clicked his tongue.

He gazed quietly at his broken sword.

“Even if you brought him back, I wouldn’t have the face to meet him. I could excuse the first time as a mistake, but the last one wasn’t.”

Namgung Cheon had said he would concede five moves without drawing his sword.

Yet in the first move, he had used it unconsciously, and in the final move, he had used it deliberately.

He had broken his promise twice.

Namgung Pa asked,

“Then, Father—why did you use the sword at the end? The first time truly seemed unconscious, but the last time…”

Namgung Cheon smacked his lips and answered,

“Because I thought I might die.”

“…!”

That single sentence nearly knocked out Namgung Pa and the spectators who had been secretly pricking up their ears.

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