Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 139 - God of Destruction

Chapter 139 – God of Destruction

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Translated by Heavenly Cat
Edited by Celestial Knight

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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Ju-seong began analyzing the nature of the poison that had infiltrated him. A vicious poison indeed.

For some reason, the Flame Crow Six Stage Art was particularly resistant to poisons. His digestion had also improved strangely.

Yet even this poison couldn’t be completely blocked by the Flame Crow’s resistance.

‘First off, it’s Qi-Dispelling Poison. Strong fire poison too…’

From the wound, the poison spread rapidly, infiltrating his meridians and combusting upon meeting internal energy.

Likening a martial artist’s body to a country.

The Eight Extraordinary Meridians and the full body’s meridians were like alleys and roads, while the internal energy flowing through them were soldiers under Ju-seong’s command. An unprecedented massive fire had arrived. The flames followed the roads and alleys, burning his soldiers to charcoal and advancing toward the capital… the capital being, of course, the lower dantian.

Meanwhile, the fight continued. He had enough internal energy left to manage for now. But if this continued, his internal energy would burn away entirely, and Ju-seong would face Jang Hwa-rin with only his body’s strength.

Against Mount Hua’s greatest talent without internal energy? Even Ju-seong, crazy as he was, knew that was hopeless.

Then what did he need to do to have any chance?

Ju-seong thought of walking a tightrope. To ascend, you had to drop first. Only then could you use the rope’s spring to rise higher.

To win, he had to push himself into an even harder situation.

Ju-seong thought.

‘Been a while since I walked a tightrope.’

* * *

Jang Hwa-rin was quite flustered. When he’d tested on a junior disciple, even a nick from the blade had instantly scattered all internal energy to reveal an empty bottom.

Maybe four or five exchanges before that?

Yet this madman seemed to have some poison resistance and was stubbornly holding on.

‘This wild boar!’

Clearly the poison was working, but he just wouldn’t go down. Jang Hwa-rin was going mad.

Dragging this out could make the Martial Alliance seniors suspicious.

How could Ju-seong fight on par with Jang Hwa-rin despite being poisoned? Paradoxically, it was because of the poison.

The poison Jang Hwa-rin applied to his sword would all burn away if he injected internal energy above a certain level.

Holding back to prevent that meant his attacks were significantly weaker. If this continued, suspicion would be inevitable.

One of them growing weaker while the other only used about seventy percent of his output.

All the while, Ju-seong was reciting the Poison Accumulation Method while receiving attacks. This secret technique from the Five Poisons Valley in Yunnan allowed storing poison that entered the body in the dantian.

But did learning the Poison Accumulation Method grant immunity to all poisons? Of course not. Getting poisoned mid-battle meant being helpless… you couldn’t perform breathing exercises while fighting.

‘But is that really true?’

Ju-seong questioned himself. The Poison Accumulation Method was a seated cultivation. Like most Central Plains martial arts.

Did that mean all cultivation methods were seated? No. Originally, the Central Plains had employed moving cultivation methods that mimicked nature’s movements, influenced by shamanic beliefs and Taoism.

When Bodhidharma, who founded Shaolin, brought Tianzhu’s seated meditation, static cultivation became mainstream.

Ju-seong had to fight. That meant moving. But he also had to deal with this damned Qi-Dispelling Poison.

‘Then can’t I do both at once?’

Ju-seong’s movements slowly changed. Shedding martial form, they came to resemble flame.

Long ago, in an ancient shrine devoted to the evil god Taotie, he’d found the Karmic Fire Demonic Art. That too was a moving cultivation, so he’d use its principles.

Ju-seong’s mind whirled at extreme speed. Killing intent surged, and it felt like crimson lightning was striking directly into his crown.

Crimson blood seeped from one nostril.

Jang Hwa-rin saw this and thought Ju-seong was pushing himself too hard to counteract the poison and was entering qi deviation. Excited, he swung his sword harder.

“You should’ve surrendered early and avoided looking so pathetic! Today I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Jang Hwa-rin’s sword swept ruthlessly. Fearsome blade work indeed. Like stepping into a forest of blade-petal trees.

But Ju-seong had already entered a trance, becoming a flame himself.

‘If the poison within me is fire poison, I just need to become an even greater flame and devour the lesser fire.’

A dance weaving together the Karmic Fire Demonic Art, the Flame Crow Six Stage Art, the Three Yang Fist, and the Poison Accumulation Method.

The thrusts and slashes were no longer threatening. Ju-seong had become light as the wind.

Every stroke was deflected or evaded. A swordsman relying on external tools could not have a sharp blade.

Rather than trying to kill, weakly scratching to inflict poisoning… what a soft attitude.

Even with his mind hazy, Ju-seong sneered.

“Mind… Head… Bug… bastard.”

In the slowed time, Ju-seong’s body flickered like a bonfire.

-Fwoooosh…

Jang Hwa-rin’s eyes went wide seeing the poison on his blade suddenly sucked into Ju-seong’s body. This was now beyond comprehension. What the hell?

“Thanks for the meal.”

Ju-seong’s gaze had returned to normal. The swaying dance had also subsided.

But he wouldn’t release the momentum once he’d seized it. The dramatic insight had shown him just how shallow Jang Hwa-rin’s sword was.

He’d already taken a great step forward. And Jang Hwa-rin’s techniques had been burned into memory since the Assembly began.

The impenetrable storm of petals now…

“Nothing but kindling.”

Ju-seong spat as he thrust his hand into the tangled sword strokes.

-Screeeech!

His palm traced the sword’s trajectory, following along. Force distribution, blade path… all read.

Ju-seong’s grip trapped the Mount Hua sword completely.

The ceaseless blooming petals halted. As Ju-seong released a fierce energy wave, crimson flames spread across the arena.

The full-blown petals all burned to nothing without a trace. As if the whole spring had been a dream.

Jang Hwa-rin felt something inside him shattering.

It had already been cracked. Ever since hearing how long Ju-seong had been training martial arts.

The thick, rough armor of arrogance and confidence. He’d reinforced its thickness by confirming his talent and looking down on those born ordinary.

Inside, it was soft and weak like crab meat.

“H-How?”

“You don’t need to know… Now, look into my eyes. I’ll plant a demon in your heart.”

Ju-seong held the blade and stared into Jang Hwa-rin’s eyes.

Then, enduring the splitting headache, he summoned the maximum killing intent.

-Squelch.

It felt like something was tearing in his skull. He directed the maximum killing intent he could muster solely at Jang Hwa-rin.

Eyes are the windows to the soul.

With their eyes locked, Jang Hwa-rin saw.

The crimson lightning flickering beyond those black pupils. His consciousness immediately grew distant. In that instant, Jang Hwa-rin saw visions of himself dying in horrible ways, over and over.

Limbs severed, skin flayed, poisoned, boiled alive, sometimes starving himself to death, sometimes dying pathetically from an infected wound and fever.

Jang Hwa-rin’s eyes clouded. Ju-seong said softly.

“You don’t even deserve to hold a sword, vermin.”

“Agghaaah!”

The moment Ju-seong withdrew his killing intent, Jang Hwa-rin flailed, dropped his sword, and fled the opposite direction.

Then stumbled at the arena’s edge, tumbling and raising a cloud of dust. He barely picked himself up and staggered away, trembling.

Watching this, Ju-seong suddenly furrowed his brow as something occurred to him.

“Ah, I was supposed to break his legs.”

Had Ju-seong remembered sooner and broken Jang Hwa-rin’s legs, it would have been kinder for him.

A lame swordsman could still exist, but a swordsman with a broken heart could not remain in jianghu.

The judge was so dumbfounded he couldn’t speak, then finally raised one hand and shouted.

“…Ju-seong from Sichuan, wins!”

“W-WOOOAAAH!”

“Ooh! Good match, Mad Dragon!”

The spectators’ cheers were bewildered. First they had to figure out what happened before they could cheer properly.

Petal-shaped sword energy scattered everywhere. Ju-seong performed something that looked like dance, or martial arts, or something.

Then he snapped out of it and was holding the Mount Hua prick’s sword. What, was he an idiot? Getting his sword caught like that was a first.

The two had a staring contest before the Mount Hua guy yelped, wet himself, and ran away.

‘What was that.’

Most spectators thought the same. This was the semifinal? At least they gave courtesy cheers because Mad Dragon’s name meant something.

Of course, gamblers who’d bet on Ju-seong cheered hard, caring only about the result.

At this point, all the spectators shared the same thought.

‘It’s that Mount Hua guy’s fault!’

No matter how good Ju-seong was, how could he make an exciting match with such a pathetic opponent?

Those who didn’t know the details cursed Jang Hwa-rin endlessly, but the Martial Alliance seniors’ expressions differed.

Especially the Martial Alliance Leader, whose energy senses were sharpest… he lightly raised his hand to smooth down the hairs standing on the back of his neck.

‘He was born with killing intent. The talent actually leans toward the south.’

The Martial Alliance Leader murmured inwardly. Would he have thrived better in the evil path? He shook his head immediately.

‘Only in the orthodox sects’ care can he avoid being consumed by that killing intent.’

And there was one other person among the spectators who recognized Ju-seong’s nature.

A young Buddhist monk with a gleaming bald head in golden robes sat quietly counting his prayer beads.

He narrowed his eyes at Ju-seong and murmured softly.

“Living by his nature, he’ll become a Heavenly Demon. But if he never relaxes his discipline and continues his ascetic practice, only then can he be reborn as the Immovable Wisdom King.”

For an instant, Ju-seong’s gaze snapped around and met the monk’s.

“Yikes, he heard me? Sharp ears too.”

The monk hastily covered his face with his sleeve, but his gleaming bald head couldn’t be hidden.

* * *

“Heavenly Demon… Never heard of it? It’s a being that obstructs the Buddha’s practice. Called Mara, Demon King, Demon God, and various other names.”

Fat Fist was explaining in response to Ju-seong’s question. Ju-seong’s worldly knowledge mostly came from street life, and everything else was what the Divine Physician had force-fed him as essential.

He wasn’t well-versed in Buddhist terminology.

Ju-seong nodded.

“Ah… Mara, Demon King… those I’ve heard of. Anyway, that baldy saying things out loud like that.”

Bai Li tilted her head.

“I don’t think he meant for Young Master to hear? You have excessively sharp ears.”

“That’s true.”

Ju-seong nodded. Fat Fist studied him briefly before continuing.

“By the way, do you know what this Heavenly Demon is called in short?”

Ju-seong tilted his head.

“Why the dramatic buildup?”

“…It’s Cheonma (Heavenly Demon).”

The air in the room grew heavy.

Heavenly Demon. The demonic path had flourished for quite a long time until it had been purged by the predecessor of the Martial Alliance, the White Orthodox Alliance, during the Sixteen Kingdoms era. The title for the head of the demonic path at that time was Heavenly Demon… a centuries-old, musty title.

Obviously, the audacity of sticking the character ‘Heaven’ blatantly into one’s title wouldn’t be tolerated by the Imperial Court.

So it was an old title used only in chaotic eras.

Suddenly Red Beggar, Fat Fist, and Bai Li subtly put distance between themselves and Ju-seong. Feeling wronged, Ju-seong raised his voice.

“What am I? And besides, there was more to what he said. If I stay sharp and live right, I become the Immovable Wisdom King. I know that much… a divine general who catches bad guys and punishes them, right?”

Fat Fist coughed and showed off more knowledge.

“That’s, um… correct, but the Immovable Wisdom King isn’t originally a Buddhist deity. It’s a god worshipped in Tianzhu’s old religion. There it was called by a different name.”

Ju-seong stared at Fat Fist, suspiciously knowledgeable in obscure trivia.

“What’s the name that you’re hesitating?”

“…The God of Destruction, Shiva.”

“Mm.”

Ju-seong pressed his brow for a moment, then spoke.

“This baldy, running his mouth because it’s someone else’s business. I’ll be your Shiva for sure. What a damn name. Shiva, Shiva…”

Ju-seong’s companions each took another step back.

To secure their safety from a certain human who might not be the God of Destruction but definitely seemed fond of destruction.