Return of the Dark Moon
Chapter 22. To the Mountain Gate
No matter how much intent I poured into it, the power of my sword aura transcended all reason.
I ran my fingers over the chipped edge of the new iron sword and curled my lips into a smile.
A good fix.
This was the effect of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Art, which I had altered to fit my new body.
Ordinarily, I would have had to enter my mindscape to modify it, but my current martial prowess was still insufficient for that.
But it wouldn't be long before I was strong enough.
I flicked the sword once out of habit. It felt incredibly good to hold a sword after so long.
Was I, too, nothing more than a man of the martial world?
The grounds of the thousand-year-old Shaolin.
There were more monstrosities than people.
No matter how many I dealt with, how many I killed, the aberrations swarmed in endlessly.
And this was the situation even with the mountain keepers of Mount Song and all its temples fighting them off daily.
What would be the backlash for not dealing with these monstrosities properly?
The aftermath of their deaths was always the most important part.
Right now, I had no time to ponder such things.
In the sky, Beomcheon and a creature called Gyeryong exchanged fists and claws, their clashes letting out continuous roars.
Shaolin’s martial arts are heavy.
To put it bluntly, they aren't fast.
Beomcheon’s powerful fists shot out again and again, crushing even the air.
It was certain that Beomcheon would win with time, but it was just as certain that we, tormented by the monstrosities, would die in the meantime.
Unlike ordinary monstrosities, Gyeryong possessed intelligence.
This meant it could speak and act like a person.
At this moment, the monstrosities swarming Shaolin Temple were beasts that had rushed here under Gyeryong’s command.
But why would Gyeryong join hands with the Peach Blossom Spring?
A monstrosity that powerful should have pride that pierced the heavens.
I shook my head and stepped forward. After a moment, I saw Hwapyeong.
“Where’s Ilgyeokmujeok?”
At my question, Hwapyeong pointed toward the mountain gate.
“She’s over there. I think she’s fighting seven-to-one. They all seemed like peerless masters. I wonder if she’ll be okay…”
Seven peerless masters?
Was that even possible?
The Peach Blossom Spring had casually sent seven peerless masters here.
Only someone like Ilgyeokmujeok could handle them; anyone else would have crossed the river of the underworld a hundred times over by now.
No, there are a hundred peerless masters in the martial world at most.
A martial artist who has reached the Profound Realm, that is, one who has attained the ‘Way of Martial Arts,’ is called a peerless master.
The same applies to the Life and Death Realm and the Natural Realm.
After all, one must reach at least the Life and Death Realm to be called the greatest under heaven.
How many masters did the Peach Blossom Spring command?
All the bastards currently strutting around, calling themselves the greatest masters in the world, deserved a good slap across the face.
A monstrosity with a tiger’s face and a rabbit’s body flew at me, and I cut it down lightly.
This sword was woefully inadequate compared to my White Sword, but it was still quite useful.
This battlefield wasn't my fight.
It was right to leave Shaolin to be defended by its remaining martial monks.
You can’t survive in the martial world by relying on others for every little thing.
Did they know how many sects were facing the threat of annihilation even now?
It was simply Shaolin’s turn.
Besides, Shaolin wouldn't fall this easily.
If things were truly dire, Shaolin’s grand formations would have been activated by now, completely isolating it from the outside world.
For the record, in my past life, that formation was cut down by the Society Leader’s single sword strike.
In truth, a chaotic battlefield like this was quite rare, even for me.
Perhaps it was a proper welcoming ceremony to commemorate my discovery of the three masterminds.
The state of the battle was surprisingly manageable.
The Shaolin monks hadn't noticed, but I could see it.
On Mount Song, there were countless temples besides Shaolin, and all of them practiced martial arts.
It wasn't as if they hadn't entered Shaolin due to a lack of talent.
The monstrosities were being sufficiently held back by the bald-headed monks of Mount Song, including the 108 Arhats.
That settled my thoughts.
I spoke to Hwapyeong, who was panting after killing a single monstrosity.
“Let’s go to the mountain gate. We need to take down that chicken-headed bastard!”
***
It was the season of harvest.
In the vast plains north of the Yellow River, fields of golden reeds swayed and danced, and rising majestically from those plains was Mount Tai, its presence as lofty as befitting a place sought by the emperors of old.
Mount Tai, the East Peak, was a sacred place where, starting with the First Emperor of Qin, rulers performed the Feng Shan ritual, reporting their deeds to Heaven and Earth.
It was then that the Jade Emperor Peak at the summit of Mount Tai began to collapse with a tremendous roar.
The scar left behind looked as if the single strike of a peerless swordsman had split the peak.
Directly below the crumbled Jade Emperor Peak, a handsome young man in a long, yellow robe was clashing with two old masters, one in a red Daoist robe and the other in a blue changshan.
Kwang, kwaang, kwaaaang!
Each time the sword of the young man in round glasses collided with the fist and palm techniques of the two old men, an insane roar echoed.
The hem of the young man’s robe fluttered, occasionally revealing the character for ‘Ten Thousand Soldiers.’
Only after hundreds of exchanges did the clash between the three cease.
The young man adjusted his glasses, smiled, and began to speak.
“The ancient guardians of the West Peak and the East Peak. You’re faithfully playing the role of the Peach Blossom Spring Lord’s dogs. Are you on your way to harm a beggar?”
Beomcheon and Wangcho had dared to claim the situation at Shaolin was manageable.
An impossibility, given the cautious nature of the Peach Blossom Spring Lord.
The reason was right here.
The handsome, scholar-like young man had been holding back the masters of the Peach Blossom Spring.
This was usually the Society Leader’s job, but since Baek Cheon was also busy, he had stepped up himself.
“I’m wasting time on you that I could be spending with women. Do you know who I am? You trash who do nothing but wipe the Peach Blossom Spring Lord’s ass.”
Even as he spoke, the young man gripped his sword and scanned his surroundings.
True masters are those who control the variables.
Since Mount Tai was the home turf of the old man known as the Great Emperor of the East Peak, there was no telling what kind of strange miracles he might perform.
The one in the blue changshan was the Peach Blossom Spring’s Great Emperor of the East Peak; the old man in the red Daoist robe was the Great Emperor of the West Peak.
The four emperors consisted of the West, East, South, and North Peaks. There was no Central Peak Emperor. Because that was where the great Shaolin was.
Thud.
The sound of a staff hitting the ground was awkward.
The Great Emperor of the East Peak chuckled and met the young man’s eyes.
Contrary to his friendly laughter, a thick killing intent swirled in his eyes.
“You, do you dare interfere with the Peach Blossom Spring’s affairs? What great connection do you have with that beggar? Your first target as a Regressor was…”
“Shut up. Answer only what I asked. West Peak and East Peak, why are you trying to kill the beggar? If that guy has become a Regressor, everything is in vain. …T-t-t, what are you plotting?”
The moment the young man spoke its name, the sky spewed dark clouds.
Day and night switched several times in an instant, and dozens of lightning bolts rained down on his head.
Parrying them with a light swing of his sword, he scoffed.
“Tch, what a temper. Do all you people throw a fit just because someone speaks your True Name?”
He muttered incomprehensible words.
At the same moment, the Great Emperor of the East Peak tried to open his mouth, the yellow figure blurred.
“This damn bastard?”
He had fled.
His purpose from the start had been to cause a delay.
He had thrown the dignity of a martial artist to the dogs.
The lecher who loved women was gone just like that.
***
KRAANG!
A single stomp of my foot sent monstrosities collapsing, vomiting blood.
Bloodstains splattered everywhere.
It was a crude imitation of Ilgyeokmujeok’s Hyeongroebo, a Jingakcho (Foot-Stomping Technique), but it was effective against the monstrosities.
It probably wouldn’t work on a master with a clear mind.
Hwapyeong, running beside me, exclaimed in a fluster.
“You, that’s Hyeongroebo…!”
“What about it.”
The distance from the Guest Hall to the mountain gate was quite far.
Hearing a clap of thunder, I looked up to see Ilgyeokmujeok exchanging blows with the seven masters.
A smirk playing on her lips, Ilgyeokmujeok lashed out with her small leg, striking the swordsmen’s abdomens.
“Did you say you were disciples of Hwaryongjinin? You don’t live up to his great name.”
For some reason, hearing that name made me feel a little dizzy, and I stumbled.
Hwapyeong, too, was struggling to keep his balance.
In any case, Hwaryongjinin was the name of the Mount Hua Sect’s founder.
Could it be that the Peach Blossom Spring was home to the immortals who were said to have ascended long ago?
Suppressing the shiver that ran down my spine, I kept running.
Past the mountain gate, the vast forest of Mount Song unfolded.
It starts now.
It hadn’t been long since my regression, yet I was already going through all sorts of things.
This was, after all, the easiest time to kill me.
A nagging doubt remained—even if they kill me, won’t time just turn back?—but I decided to brush it aside.
It was more important to solve the problems which are right in front of me.
I cut, and I cut, but there was no end.
Human conflict was the same; it couldn't be solved by the sword alone.
KAAAAK.
I felt it with my upper dantian.
In that instant, Gyeryong, its blade-like pupils now vertical, let out a roar.
Simultaneously, dozens of bolts of lightning struck Mount Song.
This was the real beginning.
Gyeryong’s true nature was being revealed.
The scent of plum blossoms suddenly wafted to my nose, and I turned my head.
One of Hwaryong’s disciples was thrusting a sword at me.
It was the Mount Hua Sect’s Twenty-Four Movements Plum Blossom Sword Art.
Dozens of plum blossom petals became sword aura, aiming for my vitals.
I couldn't think of them as illusions.
Every single one was a real attack.
I barely dodged by bending over, though it should have been impossible to avoid.
Puzzled, I turned my head to see Ilgyeokmujeok snapping that swordsman’s neck with one hand.
The sight of her killing someone with such an indifferent face was slightly chilling.
“The Mount Hua Sect. Famous since ancient times for its blade-like momentum and its Illusory Sword that deceives the eye.”
Tamrang’s head tilted slowly.
“I see now that among the Taoist Sects of this era, the Wudang Sect is the best, then?”
“Fake peerless masters, that’s just not right—” Her added words seeped into the Lightning Flowers she scattered as she disappeared.
Fake peerless masters? Is that possible?
Even for Ilgyeokmujeok, she couldn't face seven masters of the Profound Realm so easily.
That meant they really were fakes, artificially created.
In truth, it was nearly impossible.
This was because strength without enlightenment was the same as continuously burning one's innate true qi, the source of life.
It meant living each day on borrowed time, never knowing when you might die.
In any case, I decided to leave those six morons to Ilgyeokmujeok.
There was nothing I could do in the first place.
In that moment, a shockwave from the clash between Beomcheon and Gyeryong swept across the ground.
Just how much explosive power was packed into that?
I didn't know he was this strong.
Beomcheon's level of martial skill was clearly different from my past life.
The power accumulated through regression is passed on to the next life.
The realization struck me.
I had to revise my plan.
I hurriedly changed the fifty-six thousand strategies swirling in my head.
It was then that Hwapyeong roughly pulled my shoulder.
“Look!”
At his shout, I looked to the sky.
Due to the sorcery wielded by the monstrous entity called Gyeryong, red clouds had formed.
Clouds reminiscent of a sunset.
The rapidly formed red clouds rumbled ominously, and at some point, I sensed the air growing hot.
Soon.
Whoooosh.
“Son of a bitch.”
A rain of blazing fire began to fall on Mount Song.
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