Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 143 - The Sword

Chapter 143 – The Sword

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Translated by Heavenly Cat
Edited by Celestial Knight

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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‘He won’t be able to withstand this.’

If the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art hadn’t reached mastery, he likely couldn’t withstand the Heavenly Silkworm Silk’s cutting power.

‘Then he’ll have to dodge.’

Ju-seong knew that releasing the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art required a brief moment.

By the time the monk released the art and tried to dodge, the Heavenly Silkworm Silk would already be biting into his flesh.

‘Now, what will you do?!’

Ju-seong constricted his net of Heavenly Silkworm Silk like a fisherman.

And amid the terrifyingly fast-constricting whirlpool of silk, Won-gong opened his eyes.

As the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art unraveled and his body slowly began to move…

-Whoosh.

He vanished.

Ju-seong retracted the Heavenly Silkworm Silk, his expression bewildered.

‘Did he think he’d lose so he achieved nirvana quickly?’

Of course, that couldn’t be. Suddenly, what Ju-seong’s eyes failed to catch, his ears caught first.

-Tap.

A light footstep.

Having trained his Celestial Hearing longer than his Celestial Eye, his ears were far keener than his eyes.

-Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Exactly nine footsteps rang out.

Ju-seong immediately heightened his tactile senses. Nine afterimages of a person suddenly sprouted around Ju-seong, and then…

-Thwack!

Just as Ju-seong desperately raised his forearm to block, a heavy punch shot out from beside him and struck him.

Ju-seong was pushed back but barely used his toes to brake and avoid a ring-out.

He muttered inwardly in dismay.

‘Lotus Platform Nine Steps? He never showed this before.’

The footwork called the foremost among Shaolin’s movement techniques was this very Lotus Platform Nine Steps.

A footwork technique inspired by the tale that Buddha, upon being born into this world, took nine steps as an infant.

The nine steps contain heaven and earth. What creature under heaven could withstand these nine steps?

-Fwoosh…!

He couldn’t tell which of the nine afterimages was real. Since he was moving rapidly while stepping through nine directions, they appeared this way. Occasionally, one afterimage would suddenly transform into the real Won-gong to launch an attack at Ju-seong before returning to being an afterimage again.

-Thump!

Ju-seong dodged a kick that grazed his side sharply.

Ju-seong shouted as if aggrieved.

“Hey, is ‘baldy slap slap’ really worth getting this angry over?”

Almost immediately, heavy palm force popped out from the opposite side and struck his thigh.

“Ouch!”

He barely deflected the explosive force by turning his knee inward, only for a fierce finger technique to thrust at his brow.

-Clang!

He raised his index and middle fingers together to block one finger. The power difference was stark.

‘He uses finger techniques properly?’

Surprisingly, few masters in jianghu properly used finger techniques.

An internal energy master casually shooting out energy from his fingertips was not proper finger technique… just showing off strength and internal energy.

But this bald monk’s finger technique was several levels above those in the Three Yang Fist.

Even amid these fierce attacks, the footsteps continued.

Nine footsteps repeated endlessly in bundles, but even with his keen ears, Ju-seong couldn’t discern the exact sequence.

“Hah…”

Shaolin martial arts were truly, utterly ‘different.’

Wasn’t this practically ghost magic?

From what he could tell, the afterimages’ positions had been fixed from the beginning, so the directions Won-gong stepped through were likely also fixed.

In other words, he was endlessly repeating the same spots he’d already stepped on.

‘Yet no counter-strategy comes to mind.’

Cold sweat beaded on Ju-seong’s back.

The positions of the nine afterimages were truly murderous.

‘Afterimages created through footwork form another formation to pressure the opponent.’

The afterimages were creating a kind of siege formation.

And that siege formation wasn’t just standing still… attacks popped out constantly.

One afterimage moved, launching a grappling attack at Ju-seong.

His fingertips caught the hem of Ju-seong’s silk changpo.

For an instant Ju-seong thought he was in trouble, but Won-gong released the fabric and returned to being an afterimage.

‘He doesn’t want to win cheaply by grabbing clothes.’

Whatever the case, this was fortunate for Ju-seong. He’d almost regretted wearing the silk changpo.

‘Anyway, every direction is a dead end.’

Ju-seong wasn’t well-versed in formations. But he could intuitively feel that wherever he stepped would not be a life gate.

‘Caught between advancing and retreating.’

Ju-seong calmly lowered both arms and searched his memory. Hadn’t he received countless teachings while getting beaten by Sighing Branch for several days?

After thoroughly thrashing Ju-seong, Sighing Branch had tapped the cricket cage while saying.

[Fighting the strong is sometimes like being a bird in a cage, or a fish caught in a net.]

A situation where every movement is sealed.

When that happened, rather than trying to break through the defense, a different solution was needed.

[Become small. Like an insect that slips through the bars, like a fingerling that doesn’t get caught in the net’s mesh.]

Ju-seong gave up trying to grasp the essence of the Lotus Platform Nine Steps. No matter how much of a genius he was, that was impossible.

After all, Shaolin Temple’s thousand-year history couldn’t be taken lightly.

Instead, Ju-seong decided to become a fingerling slipping through the net’s mesh.

Lotus Platform Nine Steps. And nine afterimages.

‘Nine is an insufficient number.’

It looked full, but it was insufficient to completely seal off all directions.

The minimum unit for the absolute defense and absolute blockade formations that Shaolin Temple prided in started at eighteen.

Ju-seong calmed his eyes and lowered his body. From that position, he circulated internal energy fiercely through the Grand Heavenly Cycle, then…

‘Now.’

In an instant, he released that flow and poured internal energy like lightning down to the Yongquan points on his soles.

Crackle… the internal energy tingling through his meridians. The muscles of his thighs, shins, and calves along that path screamed as they contracted.

-Boom!

At the precise moment internal energy burst from his Yongquan points, his toes pushed off the ground.

Leap.

The faster one moved, the stickier and harder the surrounding air became. Ju-seong curled his body as small as possible. Smaller, even smaller.

As if using the Bone-Shrinking Art practiced by strange monks from foreign lands, he crumpled himself into himself.

-Fwoosh…!

Something grazed near Ju-seong’s curled shoulder. Won-gong’s kick.

“Oops, you missed!”

The fingerling had escaped the net’s mesh.

Ju-seong immediately shot upward. While airborne now… escaped from the Lotus Platform Nine Steps’ mesh… was his only chance.

Sighing Branch’s voice came again.

[There are strong ones who don’t let their guard down even against the weak. Like a tiger that gives its all even when catching a rabbit. When you meet such types? You should lose. What else can you do.]

When Ju-seong had cursed with his eyes, Sighing Branch shrugged and added.

[Usually such types are calm and prudent. They don’t like taking risks. The only way to beat such types is ‘breaking convention.’ That’s all there is.]

Breaking convention. Shattering formality.

On the sacred arena? At this venerable orthodox martial world event? So what?

‘I need to win right now.’

He didn’t care if he got cursed later or earned a reputation as a vulgar man. He would shatter convention, walk the tightrope between foul play and rules, and seize victory.

Ju-seong had exceptionally worn a silk changpo to this match rather than removing it.

Obviously, a silk changpo hindered combat. Especially during grappling exchanges, he’d nearly been in trouble more than once when his sleeve got caught.

Won-gong was apparently so upright in character that he’d even released the sleeve that caught in his hand.

The clothes Ju-seong had specially prepared for the finals to show the spectators… perhaps he found using them to win somehow distasteful.

‘But I’ll use them.’

Using even the opponent’s uprightness.

Ju-seong wasn’t stupid enough to wear a silk changpo merely for a show.

Ju-seong had been thinking throughout since receiving Sighing Branch’s teachings.

Breaking convention.

Since he was using hidden weapons anyway, he’d use them flashily, grandly.

First move of the latter half of the Three Yang Fist: Flower Rain Kick… a kick that struck countless times like flower petals in rain. Fifth move of the latter half of the Three Yang Fist: Myriad Heavens Palm… a palm technique covering the sky.

What Ju-seong intended had no martial connection to these two moves.

However, he thought the names of these two techniques were quite splendid.

So Ju-seong decided to combine them.

Flower rain filling the sky…

The technique he’d unfold now fit that name perfectly.

-Twirl.

Ju-seong’s form spun magnificently in mid-air.

And as if to prove his extraordinary ability to draw attention, his booming voice shook the arena.

“Myriad Heavens Flower Rain!”

-BANG…!

A splitting sound rang through the arena. And the silk changpo’s hem exploded outward.

Won-gong standing on the arena looked up at Ju-seong’s silhouette against the sun and furrowed his brow.

Countless glittering somethings were being scattered through the air.

The spectators widened their eyes at the sight they’d never seen before. The Martial Alliance Leader also rose slightly from his seat, eyebrows raised.

Dozens, hundreds of needles that had been sewn inside the changpo’s lining.

The moment Ju-seong infused internal energy into the changpo hem, the impact explosively unfurled the fabric and sent the needles flying at terrifying speed.

In the aftermath, the green changpo burned from Ju-seong’s internal energy and tore to shreds.

And a rain of countless hidden weapons embroidering the sky.

The torn cloth fragments fluttered with crimson sparks attached.

And through them fell beautiful death.

“Ahhh…”

“What an exquisite beauty.”

The spectators exclaimed and were overwhelmed by the unfolding scene.

Won-gong quickly deployed the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art, but as Ju-seong had anticipated…

Among the raining needles were also Ju-seong’s special needles.

Needles made of precious cold iron. In terms of material grade, they were one step below Heavenly Silkworm Silk, but they could pierce through an immature monk’s Vajra Indestructible defense.

Because while the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art was strong against slashing, it was surprisingly weak against piercing attacks.

-Thock thock thock!

Three cold iron needles embedded themselves in Won-gong’s forearm, thigh, and shoulder.

“Ghrk!”

Won-gong quickly shook off his brief moment of stiffness and executed the Hundred-Step Divine Fist to intercept the descending Ju-seong.

But Ju-seong had already torn off the silk changpo during that split-second of rigidity and thrown it in front of himself.

-Thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack!

Won-gong’s fist only shattered the innocent changpo.

Won-gong furrowed his brow and was about to make his next move when he frowned at the slight tremors coming from his forearm.

‘…Poison?’

Using hidden weapons on the arena was one thing, but using poison was cheating.

Ju-seong couldn’t not know this, yet the needle in his forearm definitely contained a vicious paralytic poison.

Moreover, the other two needles were also starting to show paralysis reactions.

Ju-seong, who’d landed by then, looked at Won-gong and smirked.

“Don’t worry, it’s not cheating.”

Won-gong narrowed his eyes and lowered his stance, thinking. Not cheating? Then was this not poison?

At that moment, dark veins bulged on Ju-seong’s forearms and hissed as acrid poison fumes rose.

“I didn’t use any external substances.”

Only then did Won-gong realize.

‘He’s someone who cultivates poison arts!’

He hadn’t known until now. Ju-seong had hidden it throughout the Ascending Dragon Assembly. Poison arts that accumulated poison within the body weren’t fouls on the arena.

Of course, in an orthodox martial world competition, it wasn’t commonly seen, but participants from remote regions occasionally displayed such techniques.

Won-gong calmly settled his gaze, then quietly formed a sword seal with his right hand.

“Hm?”

Ju-seong tilted his head. He should be busy expelling the poison… what was this?

And why was a Shaolin monk forming a random sword seal?

But the question immediately vanished. At the sight of Won-gong drawing a three-foot-long golden sword energy from his index and middle fingers…

‘Damn, he properly learned swordsmanship too.’

Ju-seong beheld one perfectly complete sword.