Return of the Dark Moon
Chapter 25. High Heaven Falling Star Sword
Beomjeong, the young head of Shaolin’s 108 Arhats and a Vajra Fist Monk, stared blankly at the beggar bathed in moonlight.
The beggar grinned, meeting his eyes.
The delicate lines of his face shone eerily in the moonlight.
It would be a mistake to think that living in a temple meant one couldn't judge a person's character.
On the contrary, having seen countless pilgrims visit the temple, Beomjeong knew.
This is not a man to be trifled with.
The beggar's silver eyes, stained with madness, swept over the Gyeryong.
What kind of divine art was this?
It didn't seem like any martial art known to the martial world.
Why were all the Sect Leader's friends such strange martial artists?
With a rumble, a colossal, man-shaped bolt of lightning flashed madly.
"The Sect Leader brought that woman, too!"
Ilgyeokmujeok—The former greatest under heaven.
He had let her be because she wasn't a follower of the crooked path.
And after occasionally observing her instructing her disciple, he had thought she wasn't a bad person.
Looking up at the sky, he saw his senior brother trading blows with the Gyeryong, which had a long, serpent-like body.
Could they do it?
Chanting "Amitabha," Beomjeong finally opened his mouth.
"Please tell this monk what to do, Acting Sect Leader."
•••
I explained my plan to Beomjeong.
He tilted his head for a moment, then asked me.
"Can you... handle it?"
I nodded at his words.
"Of course. Why couldn't I? Just do as I told you."
A wall of monstrosities.
Behind them, the Gyeryong and Beomcheon continued to exchange blows.
Could I break through?
"A direct charge like before should work."
I shot a glance at Beomjeong.
Assuming a ready stance, Beomjeong bowed his head slightly and then shouted.
"One Hundred and Eight Arhats! Protect the Acting Sect Leader! We will charge straight for Gyeryong! We shall enlighten the beast that knows not the grace of the Buddha!"
His voice was like the roar of a savage beast.
Cowed by his presence, the monstrosities flinched and stepped back.
It was one of Shaolin's seventy-two ultimate arts.
The sonic art—Lion's Roar.
With the sound of stomping feet, Shaolin monks landed one after another around me.
Seeing them completely surround me, I let out a smirk.
A scene from my past life had suddenly overlapped with the present.
That time when I received the support of the 108 Arhats to capture Muhunshingae.
It was now a memory like a spark extinguished by the wind.
It was a common occurrence in the martial world.
In a world where there were beings that even the God of War who looked down upon the world couldn't kill, it wasn't a particularly surprising fact.
"This old monk must go and help the Sect Leader. I pray your absurdly cheerful plan succeeds."
The mountain keeper vanished.
It felt as if he was letting his upper dantian hang loose.
It was the Shaolin Vajra Indestructible Body technique.
I walked slowly, escorted by the monks.
Hwa-i assisted the Buddhist disciples in crushing the wicked fiends.
I walked and walked, then glanced back.
Ilgyeokmujeok, having killed all the warriors of the Peach Blossom Spring, was sitting on a pile of corpses, her chin resting on her hand.
I looked down.
A thick carpet of blood, formed by my footsteps, covered the ground.
Why did the full moon reflected in the puddles look like a lotus flower?
If so, this was the Nine Lotus Steps.
The nine steps Shakyamuni Buddha took at birth.
I cut down the monstrosities that broke through the 108 Arhats' pincer formation and rushed toward me.
For a moment, a fish with a human face tried to bite my nose, so I caught it and crushed it.
It was a human-faced fish.
A demonic beast that preyed on commoners who went out fishing.
As such, these monstrosities were of no help to the world.
Why on earth did their numbers keep increasing?
I quickly slapped my own cheek.
This was no time for such thoughts.
The Gyeryong was now glaring at me with pupils as sharp as a tiger's.
Snort.
The Gyeryong exhaled through its nose.
Seeing it perform such an act with a chicken's head felt quite bizarre.
The goal of the Peach Blossom Spring was to slow my growth, even if just a little.
If so, was the Gyeryong's purpose the same?
I inwardly shook my head.
"No way. That chicken-head has nothing to gain by obstructing me."
In that case, the Gyeryong must be bound to the Peach Blossom Spring.
How were they controlling it?
It was hard to comprehend.
The Gyeryong's eyes, which had been glaring at me, shifted upward.
Beomcheon's feet, which had been gracefully treading the sky as if walking on lotuses, were undergoing a mystical change, rapidly closing in on the Gyeryong.
This was the true Nine Lotus Steps, different from the one I had been imitating.
The Gyeryong's response was simple.
It flew higher into the sky and continuously rained down lightning and rain.
[Amitabha. If you do that, it makes it difficult to hit you, does it not?]
Beomcheon's jade-like voice, tinged with a strange amusement, echoed.
The words were directed at the Gyeryong, yet it was as if he were conversing with a person.
Lightly dodging the lightning bolts striking down at him, Beomcheon finally slammed his fist into the Gyeryong's head.
The sound of striking a massive bronze bell spread far and wide.
Kiyaaaaak!
The Gyeryong, which had been falling, shrieked grotesquely and swiped its claws.
The swipe, accompanied by a fierce gale, tore Beomcheon's yellow kasaya.
At the same time, with a loud crash, the Gyeryong's massive body fell, shattering a pointed mountain.
Once again raising its tough dragon body, the Gyeryong roared.
At its bloodcurdling cry, the monstrosities went berserk and began to charge.
Crackle.
Just as the faint sound of lightning brushed past my ears amidst the screams of the monstrosities, I gripped my sword tightly and spoke to the 108 Arhats.
"One Hundred and Eight Arhats. Pour your Dharmic power and true qi into me."
As soon as my words ended, the Shaolin monks immediately sat down in the full lotus position without hesitation.
The true qi and Dharmic power of the monks forming the 108 Arhats Formation poured into my body.
I opened my dantian and accepted all of their energy.
The power that the core forces of Shaolin had accumulated in their dantians was, naturally, like that of an ancient, giant tree.
An old tree that had taken deep root in the harsh wilderness of Jiangsu.
Refreshing, my ass.
My whole body ached as if I'd been beaten to a pulp.
It was the result of accepting far too much energy.
The monstrosities that had been bearing down on the Arhats turned into mere mortals and faded away when I blinked for a moment.
Amidst the bloodstains, a flash of lightning bloomed faintly before disappearing.
It was Ilgyeokmujeok, who had recovered some of her internal energy by circulating her qi and regulating her breath.
"This one shall handle the foolish disciple and the Arhats. Geolshin, you do what you must."
She spoke, having somehow climbed onto Hwapyeong's shoulder, standing on her tiptoes and reaching a small hand toward the sky before withdrawing it.
She was quite annoying as an enemy, but as an ally, there was nothing more reassuring.
I nodded and immediately leaped toward the sky.
The moment I took a step, my field of vision changed completely.
In an instant, I was right in front of the Gyeryong.
The union of Essence, Qi, and Spirit.
The state of Hwagyeong ultimately begins with balancing the upper dantian.
In this process, the attainment in any one area must not be too high or too low.
Normally, due to my regression, my Essence was that of a dragon, but my Spirit in the upper dantian was slightly smaller than in my past life.
Even if I couldn't use the upper dantian for foresight or insight.
But now, it was different.
With the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Art I had refined to fit my body, I barely managed to receive the energy of the 108 Arhats.
Essence and Qi unite with Spirit.
It was an unstable union, as I had borrowed the power of others, but a union of Essence, Qi, and Spirit was a union of Essence, Qi, and Spirit nonetheless.
However, I cannot maintain this state.
The 108 Arhats Formation. My current body's caliber was too low to handle that ancient name.
"One time. I'll end it with just one swing of the sword."
For now, that was my limit.
With the toe of my worn leather shoe, a relic of my long life as a beggar, I stepped on the Gyeryong's head.
Thud.
The Gyeryong's head drooped.
The Gyeryong's counterattack was immediate.
It threw its head back to send me flying and began to spin madly with its green body.
"Ah, for fuck's sake. Mother, may you live a long life, because this Buddhist disciple is checking out!"
Hwapyeong's muttering grated sharply on my heightened senses.
It was because a rain of fire was falling from the sky.
ZZZZZZZZZZT!
Ilgyeokmujeok, protecting the 108 Arhats with a wall of lightning raised toward the sky, frowned, her fine brow furrowed in exertion.
I watched the bizarre scene for a moment, then smirked and blocked the Gyeryong's fireballs with my protective aura.
Ilgyeokmujeok, protecting others?
You live long enough, you see everything.
Thrown high into the sky by the Gyeryong, I watched the fireballs rain down.
“Amitabha.”
Along with Beomcheon's low chant, the sound of something being smashed could be heard with exhilarating clarity.
The fist of the Shaolin Sect Leader was shattering the Gyeryong's scales.
Does that bastard have unlimited internal energy or something? He's been hitting it all day.
The opportunity would come soon.
No matter how hard something was, it couldn't be infinitely so.
The scales being chipped away by Beomcheon were proof of that.
In a flash.
The Gyeryong, unable to bear it any longer, swiped its claws in annoyance.
A seemingly frail old monk blocked those sharp claws with the Dragon Claw Hand, curling three of his fingers.
The shockwave that erupted from the clash of Beomcheon's hands and the Gye-ryong's claws was so powerful that even the blades of grass far below bowed their heads.
A battle between two otherworldly beings.
Fortunately, the civilians in Shaolin were unharmed.
The monstrous beings that the 108 Arhats had passed by had turned their attention back toward me.
Because of that, we're running out of time.
In the end, the Gye-ryong must die for everyone to live.
The chicken-head's balance seems to be faltering.
But not yet.
Boom! Ssk—Fwoosh.
Beomcheon and the Gye-ryong exchange dozens of blows.
They were clearly fighting in the sky, yet the nearby mountain peaks were exploding.
Their battle has already surpassed my own martial prowess from my past life.
In a way, it was to be expected.
Beomcheon was a Regressor, after all.
Of course, if it were me, I would have already killed the Gye-ryong with the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Art.
How significant is the Gye-ryong in the Peach Blossom Spring?
Probably not very.
That must be why they sent it here now.
The Gye-ryong's two front claws seize Beomcheon.
It moved as if it had forgotten my existence, trying to kill Beomcheon without holding anything back.
This is it.
I gripped the iron sword in my hand tightly.
I could feel the cold texture of the blade.
I shove all the true qi and Dharmic power I've been supplied with into the sword.
The iron sword hummed and trembled as if it would shatter at any moment.
"I'll show you a real meteor shower."
With my right hand, I threw the sword, aiming to plunge it into the Gye-ryong's reverse scale.
FWEEE—!
A meteor shower falling like a ray of light.
A single sword streaks across the dark night sky like a comet.
A technique I can only use once, even with the aid of the 108 Arhat Formation.
And that's even after drastically reducing its scale.
Sun and First Night Moon Ten Thousand Sword Style,
Sunlight Over Moonlight Sword Style: Falling Star Sword Dance,
K-THWACK!
—Kuaaaak!
The enraged Gye-ryong's roars echoed continuously.
Yet, I couldn't smile.
Because the sword had lodged in its eye, not its reverse scale.
Ha, damn it all.
Just my luck.
The High Heaven Falling Star Sword wasn't flawed.
It was simply that my body couldn't withstand the power of the 108 Arhats.
As my body went limp and I began to fall, a staggering Beomcheon caught me.
[This is enough.]
It was Beomcheon's telepathic message, appearing suddenly.
His voice sounded somewhat bitter.
[It is only right that this old monk deals with a guest who has come to Shaolin.]
Is he going to perform the 108 Arhat Formation by himself?
The old Regressor moves leisurely through the slowed space-time of the area.
His worn, yellow kasaya flutters.
Having already reached the Gyeryong's eye by lightly stepping on a lotus flower, Beomcheon's finger mercilessly pierces the flood dragon's reverse scale.
Shaolin's Seventy-Two Arts
[Farewell.]
One Finger Zen.
The Gye-ryong's massive body, which had been like an iron tower, began to fall with a furious roar.
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