Chapter 76 - Song of Light and Shadow (2)

3.

When I first tried to learn the Flowing Sword of Death by Starvation.

["What?"]

The Heavenly Demon was disappointed.

["You mean the longest you have ever gone hungry in your life is barely three days?"]

She did not acknowledge my efforts. She gave up. Resigned herself. After watching me swing my sword for only a little while, the Heavenly Demon readily turned her back and left.

["We cannot even understand each other."]

["How could you comprehend the Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven when you do not know even this?"]

The Heavenly Demon had tested me only to give herself a reason to give up.

Because there was nothing left to hope for in this world. Because there must be nothing left.

["Enough."]

["The fault is mine."]

That was what happened when I learned “hunger.”

But once I began learning “thirst,” her attitude changed completely.

4

“Your sword is far too simple.”

The Heavenly Demon watched me fight the living corpse.

I could feel the way she looked at me gradually changing. Even when I occasionally swung my sword clumsily, she might furrow her brows, but she did not turn her back.

Instead, she offered advice.

“There is no subtlety in the use of your sword. No adaptability. It is steadfast and upright, but vulnerable in equal measure.”

The Heavenly Demon was beginning to place her hopes in me as a person.

“Your sword seems intended not to oppose human beings, but to confront the world. It is closer to the sword of the orthodox factions than to that of our Cult. How curious.”

At first, the martial-arts zombie killed me with a single blow.

But as time passed, I could deal with it easily. That was only natural. Every night, I died at the hands of the living corpses Hungry Ghost brought me.

The more I experienced the traumas of those who had died of thirst, the stronger my sword became.

“I shall teach you a simple guiding principle.”

Once my sword had grown strong enough, the Heavenly Demon finally began instructing me.

“A guiding principle? What is that?”

“... A secret to the art, or a secret method. Speaking with a child from beyond the borders is no easy task.”

She cleared her throat a few times.

“Think back to when you performed the Flowing Sword of Death by Starvation. What were you thinking as you swung your sword?”

“I was thinking of hunger.”

“Of course you were. But that was not all. You did not realize it, but without knowing it yourself, you had seen through to the essence of demonic arts.”

The essence of demonic arts.

“I shall now explain it to you.”

We sat facing each other in the snow.

“Now. Picture an [apple] in your mind.”

“An apple... You mean the fruit you eat?”

“The fruit you eat.”

As instructed, I imagined a single apple.

“Have you pictured it?”

“Yes.”

“What does the apple feel like?”

“Pardon?”

Her question felt strange. What did the apple feel like? I wasn't actually holding an apple. How could I know what it felt like?

I was bewildered. The Heavenly Demon studied my face.

“You do not know?”

“I could imagine it if I forced myself to...”

“That is all right. If you do not know, say that you do not know.”

“Oh, yes. I have no idea.”

“Hmm. Hm.”

The Heavenly Demon smiled. She was enjoying herself.

“You are honest. Good! Now picture [hunger].”

“...”

I pictured it.

I pictured a farmer endlessly swinging a pickaxe into parched earth. The motion of a hand striking a child came to mind. Children dug up soft soil by the riverbank and made earth cookies from the mud they scooped out.

“Have you pictured it?” the Heavenly Demon whispered.

“Yes, I have.”

“What does hunger feel like?”

Teeth nibbling at a mud cookie. Its taste. Its dry, crumbly texture.

“... Dry and crumbly.”

“What does hunger smell like?”

“It smells of earth.”

“Oh? What sort of earth? There are many kinds. There is soil for farming, and clay for making pottery. There is black earth and red earth. I am curious. What is the earth of hunger?”

“Mud,” I said with my eyes closed.

“You can't just scoop up any mud you please. It has to have few pebbles and no grains of sand.”

“I see. I understand. What does hunger taste like?”

“...”

“Child.”

The Heavenly Demon's voice softened.

“I asked what hunger tastes like. Why do you not answer at once?”

“... Because it's sad,” I said.

“The children dry their mud cookies in the sun. While they're drying, the children have nothing else to do, so they linger around the cookies. They just keep waiting for the mud to dry...”

“Children waiting for sunlight.”

“... Yes.”

“Hunger is children waiting for sunlight.”

It was. It had been.

“Child, that is your poetry.”

The Heavenly Demon's voice fell like simple, unadorned snow.

“When I asked how a mere apple felt, you answered that you did not know. What happened when I asked about hunger? You touched mud. You smelled mud. You chewed and ate mud! Since you saw the flowing river, you must even have heard the sloshing of its water.”

An old man's final voyage. A ferryboat. The night sky.

A lonely death, someone who had wished not to burden the world, yet had become a burden in the end.

“An apple has a shape, but hunger has none. An apple has a taste, but hunger is tasteless. And yet you speak so well of hunger! To you, hunger is mud, sunlight, river water, children.”

“...”

“Child! That is your talent,” the Heavenly Demon said.

“Now open your eyes.”

I looked.

Still seated, the Heavenly Demon moved both hands.

“The reason you do not know how an apple feels is simple. It did not stir your [memories].”

My memories.

“If you have ever eaten an apple, you too will know.”

Smiling, she moved her hands.

I soon recognized what she was doing.

She was pretending to cut an apple in half.

“An apple's skin is smooth. Glossy, yet very slightly bumpy. Ordinarily, I enjoy eating apples with the skin on, but things would be different if a child had caught a cold. I would cut it in half...”

It really seemed as though an apple rested in her hands.

“Then scrape it with a spoon. Feed the scraped apple to the sick child, one mouthful at a time.”

“...”

“Did you ever eat apple scraped that way as a child?”

I had.

I remembered a teacher at the orphanage doing that for me. When I was bedridden with a cold, she had fed me apple scraped with a spoon.

“What is the texture of the scraped apple?”

“... Soft, but still a little crunchy.”

“Precisely! The crisp apple has been chewed once by the spoon, leaving it soft with a little crunch. But is that all? Has it merely become less tasty?”

“Yellow juice fills my mouth.”

“Indeed! And is that all? Scrape right down to the skin, and the skin left behind becomes comically wrinkled. The hands of the mother who scooped out the apple are soaked with the juice that spilled from it. But then, then, child. Which of those things can you call an apple?”

“...”

I sank into thought.

As I pondered, the Heavenly Demon pressed me with questions.

“Is it the whole apple? The apple cut in half? The spoonful of juice scraped out? The skin? The mother's hands? What is your apple?”

What was my apple?

“I once saw a mother who scooped out the entire apple for her child, then ate only the skin herself.”

“...”

“To me, an apple is the skin left for a mother. It is a child with a cold. It is a mother's heart, scraped out one spoonful at a time.”

For some reason, warmth filled my heart.

Even though I sat in the middle of a snowfield.

Perhaps it was because the Heavenly Demon was smiling.

“... And I also think of children whose mothers never once scooped out an apple for them when they were young.”

But her smile did not last.

“I think of mothers who cannot afford an apple. Mothers who could afford one, yet did not buy it. Children bedridden with colds, with no one to nurse them. Children who died because no one cared for them.”

Venom.

The Heavenly Demon's black eyes darkened.

“There is nothing beneath heaven untouched by the human heart, and so there is nowhere untouched by human sorrow and resentment!”

My body tingled.

“Does hunger have no shape? No taste? No scent? Thirst! Hunger is mud, river water, a child. Even a single apple is like that. Child! Just as you made hunger into mud, do the same with thirst!”

“...”

“Feel the pain of thirst! Sense it. Fill it with taste. Smell it. Eat it. Move your hands. Demonic arts are memory itself! Memory is sensation. This is our Cult's guiding principle! The feeling of scooping out mud and eating it, that sensation held in your hands, is your hunger, your Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven!”

The back of my neck felt cold.

A cool current of electricity ran through my body.

“When common people suffer injustice, that is the end of it. They cannot speak. They cannot vent it. The resentful thoughts they cannot release keep piling up in their hearts, until they harden into bitter hatred. But we martial artists of the Demonic Cult are different!”

The Heavenly Demon looked at me.

“We wield the sword!”

Without realizing it, I gripped my sword's hilt tightly.

“As a courtesan sings and a scholar recites poetry, we wield the sword. What difference is there between a mere woodland bandit and a member of our Demonic Cult? They are wielded by their swords. But we wield ours! That is all, and that is everything.”

Training began.

“How can you call it living if you simply live however life carries you? That is death! How can you call it a sword if it merely swings wherever it is swung? That is a beast. Do you wish to die? Do you wish to become a beast?”

“No!”

I clenched my molars.

“I am a living human being!”

“Then thirst, now. Thirst as you hungered!”

I gathered 112 people who had died of starvation.

Among them was a child who had nibbled mud cookies.

I held dry, crumbly grains of earth in my mouth.

Thus.

Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven.

First Form.

Flowing Sword of Death by Starvation.

“You found the mud of hunger. Now you must find something for thirst. To you, hunger was children waiting for sunlight. What is thirst to you!”

I gathered 48 people who had died of thirst.

Among them was an old woman who had drunk seawater, and kept drinking it.

I steeped my innards in salt water.

Thus.

Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven.

Second Form.

Numbing Sword of Death by Thirst.

“To you, hunger was mud, and thirst was the sea. But is thirst the only suffering the sea reaps? There is also the suffering of drowning in seawater. Of drowning in a river. Child, what is water to you!”

I gathered 37 people who had drowned.

Among them was a father who had breathed his last breath into his child.

As I sank into the water, I shared breath with Hungry Ghost.

Thus.

Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven.

Third Form.

Brimming Sword of Death by Drowning.

“Hunger is earth. Thirst is waves. To you, suffocation is a father's last breath! Earth, sea, and air are already yours. Child from beyond the borders! What is winter to you?”

I gathered 96 people who had died in the cold.

Among them was a newborn who had clung to its already dead mother's body until the very end.

I held a corpse tightly until I froze.

Thus.

Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven.

Fourth Form.

Embracing Sword of Death by Freezing.

“...”

Dawn faded. Morning passed. Midday slipped by.

The world had passed half a day.

I had passed through 293 deaths.

“Child, your sword...”

The Heavenly Demon slowly parted her lips.

“Truly changes without end.”

The way she looked at me had changed as well.

“Every person has different tendencies. The life of the person performing a martial art shows through it. It is a habit that cannot be corrected. This is especially true of the Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven, yet you, child... are varied. Truly rich.”

“Oh, people often tell me I have all sorts of charm.”

“...”

“Sorry. Was that nonsense?”

“No, it was bullshit.”

“That's a little harsh.”

“To be honest, it was nonsensical bullshit.”

Was it? Nonsensical bullshit...

Well, if it was nonsensical bullshit, there was nothing for it—

“It is difficult for a human being to know every form of suffering. Even if one knows them, experiencing every form to its utmost limit is... exceedingly hard. Yet when I watch you perform the Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven, it is almost as though... ... Hm?”

The Heavenly Demon furrowed her brows and turned her head.

“... Someone is coming.”

Someone was approaching from the direction of her gaze. It was still broad daylight, so it could not be a zombie, and this world was already destroyed, so it could not be an uninvited stranger. It was the Murim Alliance Leader and Viper. Viper walked across the snow with the Alliance Leader on his back.

“Hm.”

The Heavenly Demon twitched her nose.

“What brings you here, old fossil? And what is that pathetic sight? Ha, have you finally admitted you are a decrepit old grandfather?”

“Shut up,” the Murim Alliance Leader said from Viper's back.

“I came because I was worried about you, woman. Hmph!”

“Worried? Worried, you say? A passing living corpse would burst out laughing. A fossil weaker than I am is hardly in a position to worry about me...”

“You demon, you still haven't received the Rite of Nine Bows, have you?”

“...”

“Good grief. You're so obvious! I knew this would happen.”

The Heavenly Demon pressed her lips shut.

I inwardly tilted my head.

'What is the Rite of Nine Bows?'

“It is the ceremony performed in the martial world when a master and disciple form their bond,” the attendant spirit said.

“The exact ceremony differs a little from sect to sect. Some really do bow nine times, some bow three times... I don't know how the Demonic Cult does it. It's a secret, sacred ritual.”

'What did your sect do?'

“Well, if you can take nine blows to the head from your master, that's the Rite of Nine Bows. I lasted sixty-three blows, which they said was the longest in the sect's history. Awesome, right?”

I understood why the attendant spirit was insane.

Even the sect an insane bastard came from was extraordinary.

“... How noisy. I decide whom to accept as my disciple, and when,” the Heavenly Demon said brusquely.

“It is not your place to interfere.”

“Nonsense. This is absolutely something I should interfere with!”

The Murim Alliance Leader hopped down from Viper's back. The old man glared fiercely at the Heavenly Demon.

“Because the reason you won't take a disciple is obviously that you feel bad for me!”

“What? What are you saying...”

“We are the only two people left in the martial world. As it happens, you are the last member of the Demonic Cult, and I am the last of the orthodox factions. If you alone take a disciple, only an heir to the Demonic Cult will remain in the martial world. What does that mean? It is no different from winning the Great War Between Orthodox and Demonic Forces without fighting!”

“...”

“You and I promised to settle this between us. We swore an oath. Isn't it because you are reluctant to break that oath, because you feel bad for me, that you cannot accept that young child as your disciple!”

Hmm.

'... Right. That could be another reason.'

They were in the same situation, yet only one of them would take a disciple and pass on their teachings.

Considering how the Heavenly Demon felt, it was entirely possible she would feel guilty toward the Murim Alliance Leader.

Only...

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Hmph. Pointlessly loyal to a fault!”

“...”

“I knew you would do this, so I made the first move.”

The Murim Alliance Leader patted Viper's shoulder.

Viper scratched his cheek with a wry smile.

“Well, that's how it turned out.”

The Heavenly Demon's eyes widened.

“O-old fossil... Surely you have not taken that child...”

“Yes! As of today, he is my chief disciple!”

“How could you do this to me?!”

The Heavenly Demon lunged at him.

CRASH! THUD!

The two masters rolled through the snow in a brawl.

“Do you know why I refrained from receiving the Rite of Nine Bows all day? And you, you old fossil, make nothing of it, of my heartfelt consideration...!”

“Shut up! When a blessed opportunity comes along, accept it with gratitude to the Lord of Heaven! Holding back because you're worried about me is no way for a person to act!”

“What about the Great War Between Orthodox and Demonic Forces!”

“Does it only count as the Great War Between Orthodox and Demonic Forces if we two wage it? If our disciples fight, that is the Great War Between Orthodox and Demonic Forces too!”

“I will not accept anyone but you as my opponent!”

“Just like a demon, with that narrow, extreme way of thinking!”

“What did you say!”

The woman grabbed the old man by the collar.

Not to be outdone, the old man grabbed her hair and glared.

“You demon, you damned demon! You're always like this. It's either this or that, and if not that, then the other. You fool! Do you think the world splits apart simply because you divide it!”

“The world you see may be a vast sea, but the landscape I see is a sheet of ice! Of course it splits wherever you cut it!”

“Then melt it!”

“That is why the fire called the demonic path exists! Why the firewood called members of the Demonic Cult exists!”

“Then add another log!”

“You damned Axe Immortal...! Just like a hypocrite of the orthodox factions, twisting my words and refusing to let go...!”

The old man and the woman argued back and forth like that. Each time they tumbled over one another, two different worlds collided with a metallic clang.

A world could find its place even within a brawl that felt so endlessly vulgar.

Leaving the two worlds to fight, I looked at Viper.

“This is a bit unexpected.”

“What is?”

I couldn't very well say, “Someone as ‘genuine’ as you accepting another person as your master?”

I put it a little more indirectly.

“Viper, aren't you the Heavenly Martial Sect's leader? Is it all right for a School Master to take a new master?”

“Fuck. If there's a place to dance with swords, I dance with swords. If there's a master I can learn from, I ask to learn. I don't have the spare time to sit around weighing every little thing like that.”

Viper grinned. A manly smile settled on his strongly defined face.

Hmm.

“Viper.”

“What?”

“Let me be clear. If you ended up taking him on because you were pushed into it, or because you felt sorry for him... If you've accepted that old Murim Alliance Leader as your master with that sort of halfhearted resolve, you'll regret it.”

The two worlds were still fighting loudly.

This was different from Viper being pushed by his disciples into entering the Chronicles of the Heavenly Demon for the sake of his pride.

Doing that would insult those two worlds.

I could not forgive it.

“... I have no fucking clue what you're talking about.”

Viper scratched his cheek, then lifted his one eye toward me.

“Fuck, why's a guy called the Death King sitting around babbling? If there's something you want to check, check it with your sword.”

With a sharp motion, Viper raised his sword.

“It won't be easy.”

There was an easy way to check. If I opened Viper's psychology window, it would become clear.

But instead, I spoke quietly.

“Viper.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever gone hungry?”

Viper blinked his one eye.

“What?”

At that instant, I charged.