Namgung Cheon surrendered his body to the flow of his consciousness. It had been a long time since his movements felt this light. The movement of the air around him felt like his own breath. His body felt even lighter because he had just digested the Guryongcheolsimdan. Like how one's body feels unusually light right after taking a shit.
The analogy might be a bit crude, but it was the closest comparison he could think of right now. The lightness after defecation is relative. In other words, it's proof that his previous body condition was too heavy. So, he shouldn't get too carried away. One wrong move, and he could slip up.
Like now.
Shiiik! Seupat!
Sword Qi grazed past, slicing his sleeve.
Pichyut!
Droplets of blood splattered. A long gash opened on his forearm. Thanks to that, the mind that had almost been intoxicated cleared up.
"You baaastard!"
Shuaaak!
A Daebu (Great Axe) fell, cleaving the air. Of course, Namgung Cheon had already seen the red energy splitting the ground before it, so he leisurely twisted his body to dodge.
Shik, Kwaang!
The axe struck the ground and got stuck, refusing to budge. Namgung Cheon immediately stepped onto the axe, leaped up, and delivered a kick.
Peo-eok!
The tip of his foot accurately struck the man's chin. The man flew backward, screaming.
"Kuaaak!"
Kwadang-tang-tang!
His chin must have been completely shattered; the inside of his mask became wet with blood. It was unclear if he was unconscious or dead. Well, even if he regained consciousness, he wouldn't be standing up anytime soon.
The remaining masked man's pupils trembled. But soon, with a kihap, he threw himself forward.
Once again, the Chogyeon Pagongan activated without fail. The red energy surging from the man's Danjeon spread along the Joktaeum Bigyeong (Foot Taiyin Spleen Meridian) as he kicked off the ground.
The man flew like an arrow, crossing his hands. He used Ssanggyeom (twin sickles/scythes).
Again, energy surged from his Danjeon, traveling along the Suyangmyeong Daejanggyeong (Hand Yangming Large Intestine Meridian), down the sickle handles.
Pabat!
As Namgung Cheon executed his footwork, the man's pupils shook. It was only natural; the footwork he had just used was the same as the masked man who had been knocked out by a kick to the chin. Seeing it once and mimicking the footwork exactly?
Meanwhile, Namgung Cheon retreated, thinking, 'So they were guys who stuck together.' This trio of masked men probably did everything together. They would have naturally compensated for each other's weaknesses. Because of that, they probably felt invincible when using their combined attacks.
Truthfully, if they hadn't underestimated Namgung Cheon due to his youth, they wouldn't be having such a difficult fight.
In any case, they complemented each other's weaknesses. In other words, their individual martial arts could also exploit each other's weaknesses.
Hwiiik! Seukaang!
One sickle cut through the air, while the other was deflected by the Byeokrageom.
Namgung Cheon pushed through the oncoming red energy, thinking, Why are there so many moths drawn to the flame in the Jianghu? By now, shouldn't instinct tell them it's better to run than fight? Could the martial art they learned have been inspired by moths rushing into a bonfire?
His thoughts had gone too far. He sometimes lost focus like this. His thoughts would stray onto side paths and wander off. Still, the reason he enjoyed this was that sometimes, like a cow catching a rat by stepping backward, he would stumble upon an insight.
Anyway.
It was time for the one remaining moth to burn gloriously.
Ah, wait, there was one more, wasn't there?
As Namgung Cheon closed in on the masked man's chest, he simultaneously glared towards the rock beyond the fog.
"Making quite a racket."
Gyepllyang, leaning against the rock, clicked his tongue inwardly and looked towards the distant mountains. The fog was thick, so he couldn't actually see any distant mountains, but he felt he should at least pretend to look.
The clang of weapons and screams echoed several times. He still didn't like it. But that was the way of the Heukdo (Underworld/Unorthodox Path). Whatever they did, it was loud and chaotic. They didn't know how to handle things quietly and secretly. As they say, the more skilled the master, the more they handle things without the left hand knowing what the right hand is doing.
Then again, aren't they bastards who enjoy killing? What more needs to be said?
In any case, this was it. It was foolish to expect too much from those who did the dirty work. He just needed to confirm the result.
Finally, the fog beyond the rock grew quiet. Namgung Cheon seemed to have made some progress in his martial arts lately; his resistance must have been quite fierce, considering how long it took.
Jeobeok, jeobeok.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind the rock. Gyepllyang, still looking at the distant mountains, asked, "Is it done?"
"It's done."
"Took longer than expected."
"Tell me about it. If it were me in my prime, it would have been over long ago. Still, this isn't bad, right?"
"The body?"
"Over there. By the way, is it somehow better for you over there?"
"Well. Shall we call it minimal courtesy?" Gyepllyang replied with a bitter smile.
"Why? Does it seem funny even to you?"
"Shut up. Why do you keep asking such things? If the job's done, get lost."
"I was just thinking. Maybe your conscience is like a mask too? You know how people get braver when they wear a mask? Maybe wearing that mask called conscience makes it easier for you to do bad things? Just like how looking at the distant mountains from over there makes it easier to rationalize that, at least, you are clean."
"A mask called conscience. Plausible."
"Right? I'm pretty good with words. Deep thoughts, quick insights. And honest, too."
"What the hell have you been trying to say all this…?"
Gyepllyang turned around irritably, then froze. The man walking out of the fog.
"Y-you…!"
Incredibly, it was Namgung Cheon. Gyepllyang blinked several times, then rubbed his eyes.
"Namgung Cheon…?"
It really was Namgung Cheon. He hadn't even considered the possibility that Namgung Cheon might have survived. Because of that, he hadn't suspected anything even when the voice sounded strange.
Namgung Cheon twisted his lips. "You should smile when you see your lovely student. Why look like you've seen a ghost?"
"Y-you, how…?"
Gyepllyang involuntarily stumbled back. Killing intent began to seep from Namgung Cheon's entire body.
Gyepllyang stammered, "Th-those guys…?"
"These guys?"
Namgung Cheon casually tossed something he held in his left hand. Gyepllyang caught it reflexively, sucked in a breath, and quickly dropped it.
"Heok!"
Tuk, de-gul de-gul…
Rolling on the ground, dripping blood, was the head of a masked man.
Namgung Cheon scratched the back of his head with the sickle he had taken from the masked man. "Why was our instructor so hell-bent on devouring one young student? What did he hate so much?"
"Ch-Cheon-ah. What are you talking about? There must be some misunder…?"
"Hey, Instructor. Even in this situation, you still spout that crap? Which side are you on, Instructor?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you a moth? Or a beast?"
"What…?"
"Moths rush towards a bonfire. Beasts run from fire. Which one is our instructor?"
Namgung Cheon kept walking as he spoke. He was now within arm's reach!
Gyepllyang was the first to move. "Eek!"
Shiit!
Gyepllyang attempted a sudden draw (Balgeom). But Namgung Cheon, having already sensed the energy rising from his Danjeon, quickly kicked his sword hilt, forcing the blade back.
Pak, Cheolkeok!
As the half-drawn blade slammed back into its sheath, Namgung Cheon swung the sickle diagonally.
Shwiiit, Kwajak!
"Kuaaaak!"
Blood spurted out, splattering onto Namgung Cheon's cheek.
"It's been a while since I smelled blood."
Namgung Cheon, his face smeared with blood, even offered a derisive smile, looking like a madman.
"Kkeueuk…! W-wait…!"
Gyepllyang staggered back, his left arm hanging limply. He couldn't comprehend the situation. Wasn't his opponent just a green brat? But how?
Namgung Cheon approached with placid eyes. "A pity. If you were a beast, you'd at least taste good roasted."
"What have you been talking about…!"
"Before that, you should answer my question. Why did you do it? Did the Alliance Lord order you?"
Gyepllyang, stumbling backward, hit the rock and stopped. Realizing there was nowhere else to retreat, he seemed to find some defiance. He reproached coldly.
"Hmph! Do you think the Alliance Lord himself would bother with killing the likes of you? How many people wish for the death of the Great Killing Star's son? Those who wish you gone from this land are more numerous than the grains of sand on a beach!"
"So you don't want to reveal who's behind this?"
"Even without someone behind it, I would have done this myself!"
Namgung Cheon suddenly looked up at the sky. Again, the thought occurred to him…
"There really are a lot of moths drawn to the flame in the Jianghu."
"Crazy bastard!"
Paat!
Gyepllyang gathered all his strength for a final blow. But once again, Namgung Cheon was a beat faster. Dodging Gyepllyang's sword, Namgung Cheon grabbed his forehead and slammed it against the rock.
Kwaang!
"Keo-eok!"
A loud crack echoed as the back of Gyepllyang's head met the rock.
Kwang! Kwaang!
"Kkeuk…!"
Kwang! Peo-eok! Peok, peok, peok…!
After having his head repeatedly smashed, Gyepllyang's skull finally cracked completely, and he died instantly. As Gyepllyang collapsed, leaving a long streak of blood on the rock, Namgung Cheon panted and muttered.
"Haa, got excited for the first time in a while. The bastard was too honest."
Come to think of it, being excessively honest is also a problem. You need to know how to lie appropriately.
Namgung Cheon glanced impassively at the bloody, fallen Gyepllyang, then carelessly tossed the sickle onto him.
Well then, shall I go tell some appropriate lies?
At the foot of Da-unsan, the Yongcheongwan students were gathered in a crowd. Some had broken limbs or internal injuries. Others were boasting of their exploits, showing off their martial prowess. Physicians rushed around busily.
Paeng Suhyeok spotted Song Wongyo standing to one side and strode over.
"Where is the instructor?"
"Who knows. He took Namgung Cheon and went somewhere…"
"Where have you been all this time?"
"Namgung Cheon deserted without permission, so we were looking for him."
"Who are those guys?"
Paeng Suhyeok jutted his chin towards the Gwiwangchae martial artists. As Song Wongyo explained the situation, Paeng Suhyeok narrowed his eyes.
"You mean Namgung Cheon rescued them?"
"So it seems."
It was certainly full of incomprehensible events. Something had undoubtedly changed about Namgung Cheon. Otherwise, how could that Hogu have rescued hostages?
Whatever that change was, Paeng Suhyeok actually felt pleased.
'Right, so that's how it is. Now he'll finally be worth dealing with.'
Until now, he had only felt empty because his enemy's son was so pathetic. He was such a weakling that he hadn't even felt the desire to avenge his grandfather. Contempt and scorn felt wasted on the guy.
But if the bastard could actually wield a sword properly, that changed things. Shouldn't he treat him as a proper family enemy and crush him at least once?
While he was thinking this, the students gathered near the foot of the mountain began to stir. Paeng Suhyeok and Song Wongyo turned their heads simultaneously.
Just then, a blood-soaked Namgung Cheon was staggering towards them.
"Namgung Sohyeop!"
"No, what happened?"
The Gwiwangchae martial artists were the first to run up and greet Namgung Cheon. The other instructors and students also swarmed over.
One instructor asked urgently, "Namgung Cheon! What happened?"
Namgung Cheon collapsed on the spot, as if he didn't even have the strength to stand, and gasped for breath. "I-Instructor Gyepllyang… was killed by the remnants of Hyeorurim."
"Wh-what!"
The instructors' expressions shook violently. Namgung Cheon observed each of their faces.
'It seems none of these guys shared Gyepllyang's secret plot.'
They all looked genuinely shocked and believing. Namgung Cheon squeezed out his voice and added, "I… thanks to Instructor Gye fighting with his life on the line… barely managed to survive."
If he could, he wanted to squeeze out a tear, but none came. Acting really wasn't for everyone. Still, wasn't this plausible enough?
Originally, I'm a really honest guy… but when I put my mind to it, I'm pretty good at lying too.
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