Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 104 - Taibai's Sword Mound

Chapter 104 – Taibai’s Sword Mound

===================

Translated by Heavenly Cat
Edited by Celestial Knight

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

===================

Among the three in the party, the one most likely to do something reckless was none other than Ju-seong.

He approached the old man and called out.

“Um… Are you the Recluse of the Blue Lotus, Elder? We martial juniors have followed your arrangements and arrived here.”

Even at Ju-seong’s greeting, the old man merely stared straight ahead with his piercing eyes.

Ju-seong raised his cupped-fist salute once more and raised his voice.

“Senior! This humble martial junior Ju-seong pays respects to the renowned Poet Immortal!”

No matter how much Ju-seong raised his voice, the old man showed no reaction. Zhuge Xian called out to Ju-seong.

“Um… Young Hero. I think…”

“Elder! Elder! What’s wrong? Are you hard of hearing from old age? Elder!”

“Come here for a moment, please.”

Song-un and Zhuge Xian, unable to watch any longer, stepped forward and grabbed this man who breathed rudeness as naturally as air, pulling him back.

“It seems he’s not capable of conversing with us. He’s merely a mechanism arranged within this dreamworld. Perhaps calling him Master Li Bai’s ‘sinian’… his lingering thought… would be apt.”

As Zhuge Xian analyzed while biting his thumbnail, the old man suddenly moved.

“…!”

The party startled simultaneously and assumed battle stances.

A single twitch from the old man was threatening enough to make their bodies react involuntarily.

“So it’s true he was called ‘Number One Beyond the Frontier’ during the Tang era…”

“Legend says he became Number One Beyond the Frontier before he even reached twenty. A truly unparalleled genius.”

And the old man’s next movement forced the party to draw their weapons.

Ju-seong said with a bewildered expression.

“Why is he drawing his sword? Wait, is this really Li Bai? Why isn’t the poet reciting poetry instead of drawing a sword?”

Song-un answered, sword drawn and in a starting stance.

“I don’t know either. But if you die in a dream, do you really die?”

Zhuge Xian quietly drew an iron fan from his robes and muttered softly.

“I have no idea why I followed the Taoist here. For reference, Young Hero Ju-seong… when a martial artist dies or is injured within a mental image during circulation meditation, qi deviation is quite common.”

“Ah, damn…”

While they were exchanging words, the sword in the old man’s hand moved, sweeping horizontally from left to right.

-Hwuung…!

A fierce momentum swept the surroundings in an instant.

“Urgh…!”

The party grimaced and braced themselves.

There was no direct impact… just tremendous wind and a shockwave that made their robes flutter.

‘So this is the ancient swordsmanship from beyond the frontier…’

Ju-seong felt as though grit was grinding between his teeth.

Sand dunes like flat griddles… and the solitary malice and viciousness of frontier warriors wandering aimlessly across them.

In this single horizontal slash was the mercilessness of a sandstorm surging from beyond the horizon.

The beastly savagery of a life sustained only by drinking the hot blood of others in a waterless desert.

And before that aura, the three of them could not move a finger.

‘Got us!’

Zhuge Xian’s expression turned dismayed. Song-un and Ju-seong likewise looked considerably shaken.

Though it dealt no direct damage, through some technique it had perfectly shackled the martial artists before him with a single move.

‘Like deer before a predator…’

This was a form of sword positioning… a skill of seizing the momentum of battle from the outset and crushing the opponent’s ability to move.

‘I’d heard the art of overwhelming opponents through sword positioning had been lost long ago.’

Of course, the term sword positioning simply referred to the stance used in wielding a sword, or the initial posture.

But the sword position now pressing down upon the three resembled a ‘formation.’

A formation manipulates terrain, qi flow, and various implements to deceive the senses.

Likewise, sword positioning uses the environment, internal energy, momentum, and body stance to seal or limit an opponent’s movements.

Thus, overwhelming an opponent through sword positioning is akin to mastering formations.

It required overwhelming brilliance combined with indescribable lengths of grinding practice and study.

‘A precious sight that cannot be seen in today’s jianghu.’

Ju-seong resolved that if he survived this place, he would absolutely pass on what he had witnessed today to Chun-mong.

Just as he made that resolve, the color drained from Ju-seong’s face.

The old man raised his sword once more, this time assuming the stance of Taishan Crushing Summit.

Taishan Crushing Summit meant Mount Tai pressing down on the crown of one’s head.

Simply put, it was a vertical cleave with a two-handed sword grip, swinging straight down.

Anyone with two arms could execute Taishan Crushing Summit.

From a novice Beggars’ Sect footsoldier swinging a club blindly with eyes squeezed shut, to renowned swordsmen of jianghu.

But the Taishan Crushing Summit this old man executed was on an entirely different level.

‘The momentum from before has vanished as if washed away.’

The desert sandstorm and beastly savagery of the Western Regions receded without a trace, and now a serene mystical energy began to swirl.

An aura so tranquil it gave the illusion of being inside a Taoist temple.

The old man’s sword, held straight up and pointing to the sky, bore no trace of violence… like a ritual vessel in a priest’s hand.

But then, the sword tip moved…

…and a heavy, dread-inducing momentum pressed down upon the entire valley as if the heavens were being poured out.

-Wuuuu…

An eerie sword cry echoed, as if thousands of ghosts were wailing.

Ju-seong beheld the sword in the old man’s hand splitting into tens, then hundreds, raining down.

Countless sword shadows rushed toward the party.

Zhuge Xian was completely unaffected by the sword shadows… unharmed.

Meanwhile, the chest of Song-un’s robe suddenly burst open, and the ring he had stowed within flew out and began to thrash wildly in midair.

The sword shadows dancing in the air lunged at the ring like a pack of living beasts, attacking it furiously.

-Kakakak…

With spine-chilling clashing sounds, faint wails could be heard.

Soon the ring was completely destroyed, leaving only a dark, ominous wisp of smoke writhing in the air before vanishing.

Last was Ju-seong.

The sword shadows spotted Ju-seong and pounced on him in a frenzy.

Since the shadows were all formed from vertical cleaves, they stood upright as one.

It was like a dense bamboo grove closing in.

Ju-seong clearly saw the dazzling sword shadows surrounding him like a prison, constricting, then merging into one right before his face.

Then it compressed further, and further, before piercing straight into his brow.

And a single, aged voice echoed in his mind.

[…Yaolo, with this I have driven off all the ghosts clinging to you. The greatest ghost… the ghost of my master… I have firmly suppressed with my sword energy. Now that a strand of my sword energy has been planted in your body, wandering spirits will not dare approach.]

At the same time, agonizing pain tore through his mind, and Ju-seong blacked out.

* * *

“Young Hero Ju-seong! Young Hero! Are you alright?”

Ju-seong’s vision cracked open like a sliver.

Song-un and Zhuge Xian peered down at him with worried faces.

Chun-mong stood behind them, looking greatly alarmed.

“Ugh… What happened…”

Ju-seong grabbed Zhuge Xian’s forearm as the man helped him up, and rubbed his temples.

Just then, Zhuge Xian quietly asked in a voice only Ju-seong and Song-un could hear.

“Did you dream an immortal’s dream?”

He was asking whether the others had also experienced the dream he had.

Ju-seong felt a small relief and nodded.

“The scenery of ancient Yunmeng Marsh was truly beautiful. But though it felt like a long time passed in the dream, the sun is still setting?”

“Only an instant seems to have passed. Truly a bizarre sorcery.”

“Hmm…”

As Ju-seong furrowed his brow at the strange experience, Zhuge Xian spoke again in a low voice.

“It seems we should go and find that location from the dream.”

“Can you find it?”

Song-un voiced his doubt. And reasonably so… the place where they had rowed a boat in the dream was Yunmeng Marsh of centuries past.

In ten years, mountains and rivers change… and now dozens of such decades had passed!

Zhuge Xian grinned and nodded.

“We’re called the ‘Divine Mathematicians of Zhuge’ for a reason. Our family has an innate gift for memory and navigation.”

Finding one’s way is closely connected to spatial perception.

Spatial perception is fundamental to the study of formations.

As descendants of Zhuge Liang, the greatest strategist and formation master of all time, their navigation ability was bound to be exceptional.

“It would be difficult to keep so many mouths silent, so let’s each bring just one person we can trust.”

And so, Ju-seong and Chun-mong, Zhuge Xian and Murong Yeon, and Song-un and Song-jin… six in total… set out to find the location from the dream.

* * *

“Speaking of which, Young Hero Ju-seong… you were the only one who failed to awaken from the dream and fainted. Are you alright?”

At Zhuge Xian’s question, Ju-seong pressed his temples.

The last voice echoed in his head.

[Yaolo, with this I have driven off all the ghosts clinging to you…]

“Young Master Zhuge, who exactly is Yaolo?”

“An old man wandering the fields… Hmm.”

Zhuge Xian gnawed his thumbnail, dredging up memories, then answered.

“Are you familiar with Du Fu, Master Li Bai’s close friend?”

“Of course. If you were to name the two greatest poets of all time, one would be Li Bai, and the other Du Fu.”

Li Bai was said to have dashed off poems in a single flourish, while Du Fu rewrote and polished his verses again and again.

Their poetry differed greatly in character as well.

Li Bai sang of the elegance of the immortals, while Du Fu sang of the people’s suffering with the heart of a gentleman.

Hence Li Bai was the Poet Immortal, and Du Fu was the Poet Sage.

At Ju-seong’s words, Zhuge Xian nodded as if he’d gotten it right.

“Correct. The pen name of Master Du Fu was ‘Soreung Yaolo.'”

‘Then that voice was addressed to Master Du Fu. A ghost…’

“I say, Taoist Song-un… do ghosts actually exist in this world?”

At Ju-seong’s question, Song-un’s face grew slightly stiff before he answered.

“Of course they do… but there’s no need to pay them much attention. Most are just sparks drifting meaninglessly in the void…”

He answered as if he could actually see ghosts.

They were in a boat rented for leisure on the outskirts of the city, crossing Lake Dongting.

Unlike in the dream, there was no mist on the water’s surface.

Only the moonlight striking the water glistened like a white field of mist-flowers in brilliant bloom.

Following Zhuge Xian’s guidance, they crossed the lake diagonally and then walked a great distance on land.

An uninhabited field with no path.

Pushing through overgrown weeds for a long while, they spotted a cliff where one face of a low mountain had been sheared off.

Ju-seong nodded and murmured.

“Looks familiar.”

Song-un likewise exclaimed in admiration.

“To find the exact location… As expected of the Zhuge Family.”

Murong Yeon, Chun-mong, and Song-jin had no idea what the three were talking about and simply blinked and listened.

Likewise, the cliff’s entrance was subtly concealed.

It was not an artificial illusion array laid by someone.

A natural formation deceived the eye.

Only animals and insects… those with keen noses and ears, or antennae and hairs to sense air currents… could enter and exit this space.

Entering the valley’s center, the waterway they had seen in the dream was nowhere to be found… only dry land remained.

Once the shore of the lake, this place had become solid earth over centuries.

Chun-mong was the first to spot something in the distance.

“Brother… isn’t that a sword?”

“Ah.”

In the center of the valley, enclosed like a folding screen, a single sword stood thrust upside-down into the ground, bathed in moonlight.

It was covered in rust, yet where characters had been incised on the blade, the rust had not encroached.

Zhuge Xian reached out tentatively, then quickly withdrew his hand.

“It looks like characters carved with a finger… Good heavens, there’s sharp energy radiating. That sharpness is repelling the rust.”

An ancient swordsman had carved characters onto his own sword with his finger.

Judging by the rust, at least several centuries must have passed… and all that time, the sharpness infused into the letters had been repelling the corrosion.

Song-jin narrowed his eyes and read the inscription.

“Taibai Jian Ling…”

“Ah.”

In translation: the mound where Li Taibai’s sword rests.

It is said that Li Bai passed away in the Anhui region of Southern Zhili.

But the place where his sword slumbered was here… in an ancient lake of Jingzhou.

Just as Ju-seong was about to pay respects to the departed senior of jianghu, a sharp, ear-splitting sound pierced the sky.

-Sswiiit… !

A signaling arrow.

A short arrow was shooting up into the night sky.

The height to which it soared was extraordinary. Ju-seong knew very well who possessed the kind of arm strength to launch an arrow that high.

“Forget-Sorrow Arrow…”

Ju-seong muttered quietly, his lips twisting into a crooked line.