14 - The Heaven-Slaying Sword

Chapter 14: The Village Leader - Emergence into Jianghu, and the Enchantress (8) * * * A moment stretches into infinity. For Mok Liwon, it was an instance he could only describe that way. It was the sensation of a sword piercing through human skin and muscle. Then, the sense of slicing through bone created this phenomenon that exceeded normal boundaries. Mok Liwon's narrowed pupils intently focused on the fresh trail of blood blossoming in the air. And then, there was a reaction. Boom— His heart pounded. The tip of the sword trembled belatedly. His breathing quickened, and a shiver of electricity coursed through his spine. —Suppress the murderous intent. ‘Suppress.’ These were sensations that needed to be controlled. They were feelings to be ignored and crushed, dismissed as nonexistent. Yet, they were intoxicatingly sweet sensations nonetheless. "Ugh...!" The stifled groan of Pyo-san filled Mok Liwon with euphoria. His mind raced forward to envision the next move. Just now, he had sliced through the wrist holding the small sword. With a clatter, Pyo-san's final weapon fell to the ground, leaving him unable to offer any further resistance. By severing the ankle, forcing him to the ground, and thrusting into the middle of the calf, escape would be impossible. He would be too preoccupied screaming in agony and writhing. What next? Ah, stab deeply behind the elbow and tear, then when he struggles fiercely, sever it from the shoulder. Although the arm below would be nonexistent, he would still scream piteously from the phantom pain resonating as if his elbow were burning. His mind endlessly expanded. Methods to inflict pain on his opponent surfaced and vanished in infinity. It was an instant. This entire train of thoughts was completed in the brief moment before the blood flowing from the severed wrist hit the floor. Tududuk— The sound of blood hitting the floor echoed in Mok Liwon's eardrums. It was only at that moment that Mok Liwon regained his senses. "Ah..." His breath caught in his throat. Realizing the shape of the desire he felt while looking at the incapacitated man, a sense of dismay arose within him. ‘…Suppress it.’ He repeated to himself, clenching his teeth. He steadied the trembling sword tip and glared at Pyo-san. Likewise, Pyo-san stared back at him with eyes clenching his own teeth. Despair had yet to cloud his eyes. ‘I am a martial artist.’ As well as a hero, his conduct in front of a foe should be a proper duel, not a pleasure-driven delusion. Mok Liwon recalled such a life and extended his sword. It was the final sword technique to incapacitate him. However, the heated mind distracted from cooling lacked concentration, revealing gaps. Pyo-san sensed it. Infusing his remaining hand with a dark blue energy, he struck at Mok Liwon’s sword. Czeooong— The resounding roar filled the space, revealing the outcome: Mok Liwon falling to a disadvantage. His sword flew into the air. It was inevitable. Regardless of innate martial talent, when purely clashing inner forces, there was that much difference between Mok Liwon at the beginning of the Peak Realm and Pyo-san at the edge of it. The first revealed gap after roles reversed. Pyo-san spun his body, extending his leg out. ‘Waist.’ Mok Liwon sensed it and swiftly moved his hand. Caught suddenly was Pyo-san's ankle, previously shooting out sharply. This, too, was Mok Liwon's instinctive reaction through his innate talent. A counter-grappling technique. It utilized the subtlety of the Gold Lock Technique(金拿手). Mok Liwon twisted his wrist, snapping Pyo-san's ankle. The force applied was beyond the movable range of his ankle joint. Snap— Pyo-san's ankle was crushed. “Aagh!” The final desperate struggle ended that way. Pyo-san screamed out from the sudden eruption of pain, collapsing onto the ground. A pain surging through his ankle akin to burning turned his mind blank. Yet amidst it, an unerasable question loomed. ‘How!’ How could this be possible? How could all his attacks be read and countered? It was an improbable reality. That young man was merely on the threshold of adulthood, a fresh-faced novice, while he was a seasoned, experienced master forged by manifold trials of Jianghu. Yet, the one groveling on the ground and screaming should have been that young man. "Hmph...!" The young man merely glared down at him with a face twisted as if suppressing demonic intent. "It's over!" Mok Liwon shouted. Pyo-san glared back at him with bloodshot eyes. Leaning over to pick up his sword while casually exuding a dark aura from himself. The expression upon seeing the victor who turned the tide of inner force to stare him down. ‘Talent…!’ It was the bare face of the endlessly unfair world of Jianghu. Humans were such cunning creatures. At the moment defeat was determined, what emerged for Pyo-san was not guilt for failing his orders or shame as a martial artist, but rather rage toward that reality. Grit— Pyo-san ground his teeth so hard that blood seeped from his gums, glaring at Mok Liwon. Meanwhile, Mok Liwon exhaled as his frenzy began to subside. Silence enveloped the space. Into that silence, another voice intruded. "Young hero...?" It was Hwaseo's voice. * It was an unbelievable sight. Moreover, it was a sight unimaginable for Hwaseo throughout her life. ‘Pyo-san…’ Had fallen. The ever-looming shadow with melancholic eyes that always tried to drag her into the abyss was now pathetically sprawled out on the floor. A man stood before this. With yet to steady breaths, blood trickling from everywhere on his body. And the dark energy emanating from him. It was only then Hwaseo understood the source of his confidence. ‘…The Peak.’ A martial artist in the Peak Realm. A seemingly absurd reality nonetheless embedded itself in the scene before her. He was showcasing his status as a martial artist who had already transcended to a superhuman realm. “…Miss.” Flinch— Hwaseo’s shoulders quivered. Her gaze shifted hazily towards Mok Liwon. “What did I tell you?” Whether it was the lingering aura from the battle or his sharp, honed expression, as soon as Hwaseo's eyes met his straightforward, they gradually softened, transforming into the familiar warm smile she knew. **Translation Notes:** 1. Pyo-san (표산) - The name is transliterated directly without conversion to English because it is a personal name unique to the story. 2. Gold Lock Technique(金拿手) - Retained the original Chinese characters "金拿手" for those familiar with martial arts terminology, while providing a direct translation reflecting its technique of grappling or locking an adversary. 3. Mok Liwon (목리원) - Already provided translations in the instruction. Other potential translations: - Mok Liwon slicing through "human flesh" or "opposing flesh" could be paraphrased as "cutting through enemy flesh" for more dramatic emphasis, though the literal intent focuses on the broader human target. - Rather than simply "unbelievable," Hwaseo witnessing an "unbelievable sight" can diversify as "witnessing the incredible," to invoke the emotional disbelief stronger. The original Korean passage contains a splendid play on the character's internal psychological battle, expertly depicted through both physical actions and involuntary emotional reactions. It delves deeply into the novel's thematic exploration of visceral combat juxtaposed with the psychological detachment of a skilled martial artist. "It doesn't seem like there's any chance of losing." It was a lovely and clear smile. Hwaseo felt something surge up from deep within her. —A true hero does not lose to evil. This is a line from Chapter 1 of the Chronicles of The Jianghu Heroes. Indeed, he was proving with his very being that his words were true. It was this that made Hwaseo feel her heart wash over with emotion. "There's nothing left to trouble you now." Her throat tightened. Even in the moment she heard his words, in the moment he left and she recalled her worries, and in the moment she resolved to come here. He was so dignified that she felt ashamed of herself for having desired not just victory but futility. "It seems so." Hwaseo forced a smile. Mok Liwon’s oppressive aura faded. Hwaseo stepped forward, moving towards him and towards Pyo-san. Pyo-san, his face contorted in agony, glared at Hwaseo. "Miss, is it all to end like this...?" "Young hero." "Hm?" "Can you handle the remnants of One Wheel Society and my children? I have matters to discuss with him." Interrupting Pyo-san, Hwaseo spoke with resolve, and Mok Liwon nodded, understanding. It wasn’t just because it was her request but because the expression on her face bore too much for him to intrude upon. As Mok Liwon moved away, Hwaseo looked down at the utterly destroyed Pyo-san and muttered. "It seems you are still human, judging by how disgracefully you have fallen." On Hwaseo's face, veer were resignation and resentment. * There were memories so painful one wished to forget them. "My child, you will become the master of the next generation." Moments that pierced the heart even when merely recalled. "This grandfather will make it so. I will make you the best in the world." Hwaseo detested confined spaces. She disliked dark places where one had to rely on just a few candles for sight. And she despised the stifling stench that choked her breaths. Perhaps such inclinations led her to become a courtesan of the pavilion. In the Pavilion, where she could always overlook the city from its highest floors, shielded from obstacles blocking the sunlight, her senses were numbed by the pervasive scents of powder and alcohol. That must have been why she chose that path. "Child, do you know? In that bloody event, we lost too much. Though we became heroes who saved the Murim by defeating the Blood Demon, to gain that fame, we had to lose so much." "Grandfather...." "The Murim is indifferent and fickle. We have gained such great fame, but lacking the power to uphold it, we are always at risk of falling." "I'm in so much pain...." "This is why you must rebuild us. You must prove that we have not yet crumbled." Hwaseo knew the gaze that could be called obstinate or even fanatical. "...This Sichuan Tang Clan must remain an impregnable fortress, and you must be the one to prove it." Hwaseo knew how hideous the delusions of an old, sick man could become. * Hwaseo knelt, extending her hand. She placed it upon Pyo-san’s chest as he panted and wheezed. "Is the clan head well?" "How can you speak such a question?" "Well, he's still family, so to speak." "You have no shame...!" Pyo-san's eyes glistened with bitterness. Hwaseo met those eyes unflinchingly but found her lips moving. There was a question she had long wanted to ask, wondering how to broach it. Yet no suitable words came to mind. Ultimately, what escaped her lips was resentment. "Are you not pitiful for me?" "Pitiful? How could you be pitiful, Miss? How dare you harbor resentment after receiving such privilege?" It was resentment that wouldn’t reach him. Hwaseo chuckled bitterly. Nevertheless, Pyo-san continued speaking. "You know it as well. The great method you received is something countless martial artists in Jianghu couldn't even dream of!" "I did not want it." "You should be grateful for it! You have it...!" "I lost my childhood." "You lost it and gained immunity to all poisons!" Pyo-san screamed. His desperate words delivered with desperate gasps sank deep into Hwaseo's heart. Yet, it was an understandable reaction from Pyo-san. Talent. And environment. As a martial artist and future head of Sichuan Tang Clan, Tang Hwaseo was someone who possessed all that anyone could desire. She had the opportunity to learn the best martial skills from the best masters, access to all sorts of elixirs at will, and reached heights many could only dream of with seemingly no effort. Yet, she still whined like this, naturally infuriating. "The immunity to all poisons! It's unprecedented! You can contain all the poisons from not just the Tang Clan but all of Jianghu within your body! How can you not be grateful to the clan head who bestowed it upon you?" "I have said again, I did not want it." "Wrong! You should want it!" "Should I be thankful to someone who replaced my blood with poison?" "Indeed! Without a doubt!" Hwaseo could no longer find words to respond. Perhaps it was due to the long flight. Finally, she remembered what had been forgotten. ‘…Yes, such a place it was.’ The Sichuan Tang Clan was unfeeling. Even to its kin. They always sought only results. "A sordid clan." "What?" "Isn't it? This clan's policy is twice the gratitude, ten times the vengeance. But then, it engages in barbaric methods unbefitting such, akin to the Unorthodox Faction’s inhuman techniques. What else could be called sordid if this isn't?" An overt expression of rage appeared on Pyo-san’s face. Knowing nothing else but loyalty, this dull martial artist couldn’t deny the clan, so Hwaseo refrained from further attempts at persuasion. Instead, she acted further. Ssshhhh— A dark green hue enveloped the back of Hwaseo's hand. At the edge of the First Rate, having just started to grasp what aura was, it was a technique she could now perform. **Translation Notes:** 1. Sichuan Tang Clan (사천당문) - Translated as "Sichuan Tang Clan," reflecting its location and traditional association with Sichuan cuisine and culture, renowned for its use of exotic ingredients, including poisons, which ties into the context. 2. The term "만독불침 (Immunity to All Poisons)" was translated directly to reflect its significance as a martial art technique. 3. "One Wheel Society (일륜회)" referenced as a faction within the novel's universe and translated for consistency with its broader implications. The narrative employs a delicate juxtaposition of familial loyalty against personal desires, illustrating stark realities of high expectations within martial arts clans, similar to real-world familial or cultural expectations one might experience. "Did you call it a blessing? Did you say I should be grateful?" "W-What...?" "Then experience it for yourself. The pain in which I live every moment." The dark green aura seeped into Pyo-san's chest. At that moment. "Guhh...!" Pyo-san's eyes widened as if they were about to split, a groan escaping his lips. "Guhak...!" Spreading from his chest through his veins was unmistakable venomous energy (毒氣). The intense, throbbing, and stinging pain ripped through all his thoughts. He couldn’t even writhe in agony. As the venomous energy spread, his entire body became paralyzed. "You will not die. It is not that kind of poison. By tomorrow, most of the venomous energy will dissipate, so hold on." Hwaseo spoke coldly with calm eyes. She withdrew her hand and stood up, casting her gaze afar. The cries of the rogue warriors were audible when she finely tuned her senses. Surely, Mok Liwon and his subordinates were now taking care of the remnants of One Wheel Society. "There was something that foolish man said." "Guhh, guhhrk...!" "Those who have committed no sins need not flee, and it is the wicked who should rightly face punishment. Hence, there's no need to run away." She wasn't expecting a response from Pyo-san. Hwaseo simply had nowhere to unleash her turbulent feelings and wanted to cement the resolve she had so recently voiced. "Tell the clan head that." Hwaseo said with her typical elegant smile. "Tell him that Tang Hwaseo will no longer hide in fear from him." All her life, she had been afraid. She had also been running away. Yet nothing changed; she was still in chaos. Thus, she no longer wanted to run away. Even if it seemed like pursuing a pointless romantic ideal, even if it were called dreaming of an ideal, she had found a reason to dream of such ideals. "If true justice exists, it will be the clan head who faces punishment." Whether it was naive romanticism or the ideal of justice. Because of that, it seemed fitting for her. Hwaseo, at the long end of endless years, was ready to confront the nightmare that had tormented her.