Return of the Dark Moon
Chapter 28. Am I Late?
Why would the Master of the Haomun come looking for me?
Because of Hwapyeong?
No, that was a matter for Ilgyeokmujeok, not me.
Or for Hwapyeong himself to deal with.
Besides, how many disciples does the Master of the Haomun even have?
The number would easily be in the double digits; Hwapyeong wasn't exactly an important disciple.
"Do you want me to chase him?"
Ilgyeokmujeok's voice was flat, but I quickly shook my head.
"There's no need. He'd be hard to find, and what would we say even if we caught him? As you know, those who have reached the state of Hyeon'gyeong are all insanely stubborn. That's how they achieved such high martial prowess in the first place. Just leave him be. He was kind enough to tell us where to meet, so there's no reason to rush."
"I've told you before, you're too long-winded. 'Don't chase him' would have sufficed."
"Right. You should work on your tone, too."
The marketplace was as noisy as ever.
We finally ended our pleasant trip and began to race back toward Bokgyeong.
These garbage martial world bastards.
My, my, thank you so damn much.
You won't even give me a moment to rest.
...
After some time, Ilgyeokmujeok and I arrived back at the underground gambling den of Unhwaru.
I had, of course, sent Hwapyeong to the Beggars' Sect headquarters just in case.
For some reason, the gambling den was completely empty.
Did the Master of the Haomun clear everyone out?
As I quietly sat down in one of the gambling den's chairs, a middle-aged man sat down across from me.
Need I even say it?
It was the Master of the Haomun.
He had come alone, without a single guard.
Not that he was a man who needed anyone's protection in the first place.
"So, you've finally come. You answered this old man's call. You've changed a great deal from the Manwon Sword God of the world."
Despite his middle-aged appearance, a wizened voice echoed forth.
But more important than that was,
Well, it's not even surprising anymore.
These damn bastards:
The fact that the Master of the Haomun was a Regressor.
For a moment, a faint black light flickered in the Master of the Haomun's shadow.
Upper dantian Insight.
"Hmm, well. The Sword God seems to have a slight misunderstanding. I am different from those Journey to the West bastards."
"…Journey to the West?"
What now?
These guys are like a damn onion with endless layers.
Cheonridong glanced at Ilgyeokmujeok, who was sitting at a nearby table, then looked back at me.
The Master of the Haomun's hand briefly turned dark before returning to its normal color.
"Nanhwaburyeongsu. But it's not being controlled properly. This means the union of his essence, qi, and spirit is unstable."
Typically, when the union of essence, qi, and spirit—in other words, Samhwachwijeong—is achieved, one's ability to wield internal energy increases to an absurd degree.
The body's internal energy would move the instant the mind even thought of fighting.
However, that required a clear intent to attack the opponent.
For his technique to activate from a mere glance at Ilgyeokmujeok meant that his body was, in fact, out of his control.
The Master of the Haomun's face showed no sign of alarm.
On the contrary, he wore an overly broad smile.
That very expression convinced me that Cheonridong was flustered.
Rattling the dice in his palm, Cheonridong spoke.
"Do you truly know nothing? Journey to the West... Well, it's a group of Regressors like yourself. Baek Cheon sits as its leader, but you could say they are the masterminds with the entire martial world in their grasp."
"Masterminds? Not the Heavenly Palace, the Peach Blossom Spring, and the Dragon Palace?"
"They do not often interfere in the affairs of the world. Compared to them, Journey to the West is much closer to being the masterminds."
That was a fresh perspective, but it was also a plausible one.
In truth, I didn't know much about them either.
Cheonridong continued.
"The Angcheonhoe is too old. Thus, it is inadequate to bring about change. Look, you see that old man over there, don't you? He looks like that after living for a mere 200 years. Imagine what the other old monsters of Journey to the West must be like...?"
"So, you're saying you guys will take the place of Journey to the West?"
"That is why we have stepped forward. The Lord of the Heavenly Palace chose us instead of them. We… Purgatory… will set the martial world right."
I tilted my head at Cheonridong 's words.
In the end, wasn't it just one group of bastards replacing another?
"What do you want from me?"
"Break the agreement you made to cooperate with them through Beomcheon. The place befitting the Sword God is not Journey to the West, but with us, Purgatory."
As he spoke, a ferocious gale blew from behind me.
Simultaneously, the scenery of the gambling den began to change.
This was not a martial art that involved mental imagery.
It lacked spirituality and intent.
The world was changing.
A sky was being created, the earth newly carved.
The world was being formed like an artist painting an unfinished picture.
A formation.
The Zhuge Clan's Whirling Wind and Dancing Willow Formation.
Turning around, I saw a man smiling, his mouth covered by a blue fan.
I recognized the face.
The one they called the greatest talent of the Zhuge Clan.
Seoryong Zhuge Bi.
How did he die again?
This damn head of mine.
I can't remember.
In the end, the fact that they were confronting me meant they had a purpose, and that they intended to fight me.
Damn martial artists.
With a harsh crackle of thunder, Ilgyeokmujeok, who had landed on my shoulder at some point, muttered.
"The world is being reconstructed. This is impossible with the Zhuge Clan's formation alone. They are using sorcery to construct a large-scale formation."
"What's the exact scale?"
It was not Ilgyeokmujeok who answered my question, but Zhuge Bi.
"Let's see... Hmm, the sorcery formation I'm constructing... is to recreate Mount Song. Ah, please don't talk to me. This is quite a tricky job. I have to use a great deal of power from my Upper dantian."
The Zhuge Clan—A family established in Hubei by the descendants of Zhuge Liang, the Crouching Dragon and chancellor of the former Shu kingdom.
A house famous for its cunning, formations, sorcery, and mechanisms.
Just like now.
He was whispering some unknown incantation before pulling a yellow talisman (paper for spells) from his robes and letting it fly into the wind.
In a flash, Ilgyeokmujeok, gleaming with blue lightning, rushed toward Zhuge Bi.
The Master of the Haomun immediately blocked her path, his hand a shadow as they exchanged numerous blows.
Their fight was a blur of afterimages.
The explosive force from the Master of the Haomun's steps, his footwork's shockwave, pressed down on even me from afar.
Hyeonghoebo.
A bizarre martial art that utilized footwork as an offensive technique.
The reason she earned the title Ilgyeokmujeok was undoubtedly because of Hyeongroebo.
It was said she had mimicked the Heavenly Demon's Divine Walk of Baek So-cheon, the founder of the Sun Moon Divine Cult, in front of their fanatics and knocked them all unconscious.
Though right now, she's exchanging too many blows to be called Invincible with One Strike.
Maybe Baekgyeokmujeok—Invincible with a Hundred Strikes.
That's so lame.
I stepped back a little to observe the situation.
I had considered smacking Zhuge Bi in the back of the head, but I judged it to be impossible.
The intertwined afterimages of the two fighters stopped with a Thud.
Cheonridong was on one knee.
Ilgyeokmujeok, with her small frame, stood atop that knee.
Naturally, Ilgyeokmujeok had won.
The only problem was that her breathing seemed a little ragged.
The Master of the Haomun's body was not whole.
That's what it meant for the balance of the Upper dantian to be broken.
But to fight on equal terms with Ilgyeokmujeok in such a state?
For a moment, the corners of Ilgyeokmujeok's mouth lifted faintly.
Her unique expression when her curiosity was piqued.
I glared at Zhuge Bi, who was completing the formation, and said to her,
"Just kill him."
Shaking her head at my words, she stomped her foot, shattering all of Cheonridong's protective qi, and spoke.
"The formation's completion cannot be stopped. They wouldn't have shown themselves in the first place without the belief that they were safe. Those who use sorcery have always been like that. And the Master of the Haomun is not a Regressor."
What?
"Even if they die, the world will not return to the past."
"How do you know that?"
"You are the last one to become a Regressor. These people are merely fakes who possess the memories."
I couldn't quite understand what she was saying.
So, the bottom line was that they weren't Regressors?
Fortunately, as if to resolve my confusion, Cheonridong, pinned to the ground by Ilgyeokmujeok, began to speak.
"Hmm, that's right. We only possess the memories. But the problem is that those memories are too vast. From the first regression to the present. Everything you Journey to the West bastards have done is imprinted in my head. It makes my Upper dantian feel like it's going to explode, though."
But if one has memories of past regressions, what's the difference from being a Regressor?—was how Cheonridong finished his words.
And at the same time.
—Gajin,
Zhuge Bi's amplified voice stabbed into my ears.
In an instant, the world was blanketed in white starlight.
...
"What are martial arts? No matter how you dress it up, the fact remains that they are nothing more than a means to kill people."
I listened silently to the words of the one who set the world ablaze, then my eyes shot open.
Baek Cheon, who had been staring at me expressionlessly, asked.
"What is it, beggar? Is something wrong?"
The sky of the formation was gloomy.
An immense energy emanated from Baek Cheon, who stood with his hands behind his back.
Only now could I understand it more clearly.
"The damn bastard was holding back on me."
The senses of my entire body were a perfect match for my past life.
What would happen if I were to perform martial arts in this state?
My limbs and meridians would burst, and I'd die.
It might seem like I've regained the martial prowess of my past life, but that's not the case.
My body is still my present self.
If I tried to manifest the senses of that time with this body, it would naturally overload and crumble.
Standing there, gripping my white sword, I looked at him as his black hair, like the deep night sky, fluttered, and I spoke without thinking.
"Sect Leader, I'll be seeing you soon. Get lost."
Baek Cheon turned to me with a strange smile and parted his lips.
"I'll be waiting, beggar."
At his words, I stared at him blankly for a moment.
He... responded to what I said?
My spirituality was mixed in, so I was able to intervene. You shouldn't have used a formation to manifest me. Were you planning to have the Inner Demon bind you and kill our Lang with a joint attack?
"What in the world do you take me for?" Baek Cheon said with a smile.
I seared the image of him into my eyes as he looked up at the sky with a flawless (transcendent) appearance, and I managed to speak.
"Are you, the one before my eyes, real?"
Baek Cheon didn't answer. He simply raised his hand and muttered.
—Machaang!
The formation shattered.
***
The hot sun greeted me.
The three peerless masters had, at some point, destroyed the underground gambling den and were now fighting repeatedly on the first floor of Unhwaru.
Sensing my presence, Zhuge Bi shouted urgently.
"How are you out already? What trick did you use?"
Zhuge Bi immediately shot toward me like a swallow, swinging his fan at my neck.
A fan imbued with terrifyingly sharp energy.
If it hit, I would die.
I knew it instinctively.
Ilgyeokmujeok, also seemingly exhausted, was falling from the sky.
It was then that Zhuge Bi's movements faltered.
A rumbling sound gugung… which seemed to start from the top floor of Unhwaru, repeated itself like mad, growing closer and closer, until...
GWAGAGANG!
A pair of leather shoes belonging to a handsome young man who had smashed through the ceiling stomped on Zhuge Bi's head.
"Hm, am I late? Still, I can't let my dear niece's husband die."
The pretty boy, wearing round glasses and a yellow robe, smiled.
For some reason, his entire body was covered in sweat.
The Imperial Court's Right Censor, Ma Hyeong, Jeong Cheon-myeong, the Lord of the Manbyeongdan.
Thwip!
Leaping once more, he caught the falling Ilgyeokmujeok and held her tight in his arms.
"Are you alright? Ah, your beauty can be felt even through my glasses..."
"Let me go."
The world's greatest Playboy regressor was here.
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