Chapter 78: Martial Arts Competition (3)

"Die! Just die already, you bastard!!"

The second-year disciples watched with complicated expressions as Baek Cheon hurled daggers while cursing madly in the center of the training ground.

"It's been a while since we've seen this side of him."

"You're telling me. Wasn't this a common sight when he first entered the academy?"

"Yeah. It was a sight I never wanted to see again."

It was a sight that was fairly familiar to them. Baek Cheon in the early days of entering the Hall was literally a human who personified the word arrogance.

They thought he'd changed a bit now, but it seemed his true nature hadn't gone anywhere.

Meanwhile, Il-mok, who was in the midst of combat with this scoundrel, charged at Baek Cheon with a grimace on his face.

Il-mok was also slightly high on blood pressure.

It wasn't because of the filthy curses spewing from Baek Cheon's mouth. When it came to verbal abuse, he'd developed a certain immunity after dealing with countless angry citizens during his previous life as a civil servant.

The problem was...

"I almost died, you fucking bastard!!"

It was the steel needle that had shot out from that fan earlier.

No matter how he looked at it, that was clearly a technique meant to kill him.

If not for the extraordinary reflexes of Il-mok's body, and if he hadn't received training that bordered on abuse from the Heavenly Demon, he probably wouldn't have even been able to react and would have had a hole drilled in his head.

"How dare you!! Do you think you can call me a bastard and get away with it?!"

With his eyes gone wild, Baek Cheon shouted again and swung his arms frantically through the air.

Clang!

Clang! Clang!

Having almost died once, Il-mok's eyes were equally crazed as he deflected those hidden weapons with a precisely measured swordsmanship.

Then, the moment his sword met the final incoming shuriken, he unleashed the Flower Substitution.

But this time, he wasn't aiming for Chu Il-hwan.

The instant the shuriken seemed to stick to the flat of his blade, Il-mok spun his body as if performing a sword dance, channeling the rotational force to send the shuriken straight back at Baek Cheon.

"!?"

Even in his enraged state, Baek Cheon was momentarily surprised by this near-miraculous technique.

"Eeeek!!!"

But rather than acknowledging his surprise, his wounded pride made him grit his teeth and deflect the shuriken with his fan.

Clang!

And in the instant Baekcheon deflected the shuriken...

Swaaaash!

A series of slashes imbued with Sword Qi flew toward Baek Cheon.

"You son of a bitch!!"

Baek Cheon, now having even forgotten the fact that Il-mok was the Heavenly Demon's disciple, spat out even insane curses and deflected that Sword Qi with his fan.

"If I'm a son of a bitch, does that make my Master a dog, you fucking trash?!?”

While Baek Cheon was tied up dealing with the Sword Qi, Il-mok instantly closed the distance, roaring as he swung his sword again.

Having successfully closed the distance, Il-mok pressed Baek Cheon with a series of concise sword techniques, while Baek Cheon somehow managed to hold his ground using fan techniques and footwork.

Clang!

Clang!!

The sound of metal echoing in succession and the sublime spectacle of martial arts unfolding in the center of the training grounds.

It was an extraordinary display of skill that should evoke awe from their fellow disciples, yet...

"Hmph."

"Th-, that bastard is finally."

The observing disciples were all shaking their heads at the curses being exchanged between Baek Cheon and Il-mok.

Meanwhile...

"Damn it all!!"

Continuously being pushed back, Baek Cheon let out a curse born of frustration, then threw himself down and rolled across the ground.

The Lazy Donkey Roll

Some martial artists considered it the most disgraceful technique, even expressing that it was better to die than to deploy the Lazy Donkey Roll.

But the pettiness of Baek Cheon, who had revealed his true colors, didn't end there.

Pat!!

As if rolling on the ground was meant to gain momentum, Baek Cheon, who had secretly grabbed sand from the ground while rolling, threw it directly at Il-mok who was chasing after him.

In the process, he used his hidden weapon technique to infuse the sand with internal energy.

"Haaah!"

On top of that, he pulled out more hidden weapons from his clothes and threw them, but...

"I knew you'd do this."

Il-mok, who had felt an ominous premonition since Baek Cheon rolled on the floor, was already prepared.

Internal energy from Il-mok's left palm resting on his sword.

Pat!

As Il-mok swung the sword wide to his right, the energy starting from his left palm spread along the sword, forming a thin Qi membrane.

The Twelfth Form of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword—Soul Prison Veil (魂獄緞).

Il-mok didn't stop there.

The moment the sand Baek Cheon scattered came into contact with the thin gi membrane, Il-mok's left palm and the sword in his right hand began to dance fluidly.

The sword and the palm. The Soul-Guiding Sword was deployed by utilizing the thin Qi membrane on top of that.

Following the principle of fluidity, the Qi membrane moved smoothly to wrap around not only the sand Baek Cheon had thrown but also the hidden weapons that followed.

Pat!

Then it was swung forcefully in a particular direction.

Swaaaash!

The sand and hidden weapons, now bundled together and carrying a fierce energy, flew at an incredible speed toward Chu Il-hwan.

"!?"

While Chu Il-hwan deflected those bundles with his Black Thunder Demonic Palm with an expression of disbelief...

Pat!

Il-mok had already closed in right before Baek Cheon's face.

Baek Cheon, who hadn't been able to rise properly as he had hurriedly thrown sand and hidden weapons while rolling on the ground, tried to move quickly, but...

Smirk.

With a cruel smile at the corner of his lips, Il-mok's sword decisively flew toward Baek Cheon.

Thwack!!

In the midst of it all, he kindly rotated his sword and struck Baek Cheon's face with the flat of the blade.

"Kuh...."

"Where do you think you're going? Keep rolling like the son of a bitch you are!"

Il-mok swung his sword relentlessly as if he'd caught his prey.

Even while being beaten, Baek Cheon tried to resist by swinging his fan or twisting his body this way and that, but...

Whoosh!

Thwack!

Il-mok's sword, infused with various principles, deflected Baek Cheon's fan and showed bizarre trajectories as it repeatedly battered Baek Cheon's body.

“They say a club has always been the best medicine for dogs!"

With his eyes gone wild from the near-death experience, Il-mok truly swung his sword with no intention to stop.

"Stop!"

"Enough! The match is over!"

The instructors belatedly rushed over to restrain Il-mok by grabbing his arms and legs.

And Il-mok, held by the instructors, spoke to them with a desperate expression.

"P-please let me go. I, I need to swing my sword."

"...Stop it. Disciple Baek has already lost consciousness."

"But...."

"Ahem."

When the instructors wouldn't release him, Il-mok struggled with his whole body and yelled.

"Because of that bastard, I got another damn enlightenment!"

Hearing Il-mok's desperate cry, the instructors holding him and the disciples watching all had similar thoughts.

'...If he's had an enlightenment, isn't that a good thing?'

'Why is he beating up the one who gave him enlightenment?'

'Now that I see him, he's a real madman.'

'I would have never thought that I’d see anyone worse than Baek Cheon in my life.'

They were all looking at Il-mok like he was a lunatic.

***

Contrary to the initial intention, the martial arts competition ended somewhat chaotically.

Il-mok ran to the clearing he shared with Jeong Hyeon and began swinging his sword like a madman.

Because the damn enlightenment brought on by Baek Cheon had triggered his compulsion.

The trigger point likely seemed to be the last test. His compulsion had flared up because of Bang Mi-hwa then, leading him to lose himself in a sword dance once already. And with the compulsion not having subsided completely, his reckless use of the Soul-Guiding Sword to get back at Chu Il-hwan was undoubtedly a bad move that aggravated his condition. And with Baek Cheon's action as the catalyst, it’s only a matter of time before his side effects reared their ugly head.

Thanks to those combined factors, his concentration peaked and he succeeded in performing the Soul Prison Veil and Soul-Guiding Sword together.

'Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I thought that as long as I completed all the first fourteen forms, I wouldn’t get another enlightenment!'

It seemed there was still enlightenment to be gained from the first fourteen forms alone.

Il-mok swung his sword like a madman.

What he was focusing on now was the principle of fluidity.

His enlightenment was trying to mix the principle of fluidity even among the first fourteen forms of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword that didn’t contain that principle.

He incorporated the principle of fluidity even when executing strong sword techniques or swift sword techniques.

His sword moved gracefully as if carrying a mysterious intent.

If someone were to see him, they might think he was a direct disciple of the Wudang Sect rather than the Heavenly Demon’s youngest disciple.

When all of his internal energy was depleted from ceaselessly dancing with his sword, he would sit cross-legged as he was and enter meditation.

But meditating didn't mean resting.

Even while he was circulating his internal energy to his dantian during meditation, he continued to internalize his enlightenment by practicing the sword dance in the depths of his mind.

And after his dantian was filled, he would rise again and perform the sword dance to embody the enlightenment he had achieved during meditation.

How long did he dance with his sword like that?

"Huff... Huff..."

His breath tasted metallic, and every muscle in his body was screaming. His dantian dried up again...

"I-it's over...."

Finally freed from the compulsion, Il-mok wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep.

But he simply couldn't.

"D-damn hygiene compulsion."

The thought of sleeping with his whole body soaked in sweat made goosebumps rise all over his body.

***

The next morning.

It was the usual martial arts training time with Instructor Chu Il-hwan.

But before starting the training, Instructor Chu Il-hwan, with an uncharacteristically solemn face, opened his mouth.

"Disciple Il-mok."

"Yes, Instructor."

"Congratulations. The Hall Master has highly regarded your talent and said he will make time for you separately."

"Thank you!"

"Hahaha. What are you thanking me for? It's the Hall Master's choice. I had nothing to do with it."

While Il-mok showed a face full of gratitude, inside, he was cursing.

Not at Chu Il-hwan.

'Fuck! If I receive special training from the Hall Master on top of this, my body really won't be able to handle it!'

Receiving special training from the Hall Master while enlightenment had already struck?

He might become an actual madman at this rate.

'Need... need an excuse! Some reason to refuse, somehow!!'

Unaware of Il-mok's inner thoughts, Chu Il-hwan, still uncharacteristically solemn, pointed somewhere with his hand.

"He should be waiting in his residence, so go see him right now."

"Understood!"

Il-mok replied spiritedly, but felt like he was being dragged to a slaughterhouse.

'What excuse can I make? Fuck! Think, brain, think!'

By the time he stopped in front of the Hall Master’s residence, his brain was still unable to come up with a suitable excuse.

"Come in."

Sensing Il-mok's presence, Yeom Ga-hwi's voice came from inside the residence.

‘Fuck.’

Cursing inside once more, Il-mok managed his expression and entered the residence.

"Welcome."

"Il-mok, a disciple of the Hall of the Demonic Way, greets the Hall Master."

As Il-mok saluted and pondered what to say, the Hall Master spoke first.

"The reason I called you specifically to my residence rather than the training grounds is that I have a few things to ask before we begin training."

"Please ask."

Wondering what he wanted to ask, Il-mok froze momentarily at Yeom Gahwi's question.

"Why did you show such an attitude at the beginning of your match with Disciple Baek Cheon?"

Yeom Ga-hwi, one of the top masters in the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, had naturally noticed Il-mok's antics.

He knew that Il-mok, despite pretending to struggle, hadn't really taken Baek Cheon seriously at all.

Naturally, Il-mok's gaze turned to the Hall Master’s hands, which were clasped together and resting on the table.

'If I just say I did it because Instructor Chu Il-hwan pissed me off, those fists will probably come flying, right?'

It was terrible in many ways.

Getting his head smashed by those fists would be terrible, and getting another enlightenment while trying to fight back to survive would also be terrible.

In Il-mok's head, the topic of 'excuse to refuse the Hall Master's special lesson' was quickly buried.

To avoid death, he had to come up with an excuse for that match.

And sure enough, because he sensed a life-threatening situation, his mind worked faster than usual.

'Ah! That's it!'

With his thoughts organized, Il-mok opened his mouth with a solemn face.

"It was for my fellow disciples."

Il-mok had decided to throw his peers under the bus.