Chapter 82 - The Most Wretched in the World (2)

“Aha!”

Master laughed.

“Ahahaha! Hahaha!”

Blood flowed from her broken nose. Spilling her own blood onto the white snow, Master swung her bare fist with a rush of air.

“Hup!”

Her fist struck the Murim Alliance Leader squarely on the chin. Master did not miss the instant he staggered and lost his footing. She leaped. Lunged.

Bit.

“Urgh!”

CRUNCH!

“Ghh, hng! Grrrgh...! You... bastard...!”

The Murim Alliance Leader hurriedly shoved Master away, but his ear was already drenched in blood. Flesh tore with a crunch. “Ghh!” A low scream spilled across the snowfield.

“Ptoo!”

Master spat the bloodstained ear onto the snow. Her mouth, too, was stained red. Her eyes curved in a smile, as though she were pleased with the fruits of her hunt.

An evil spirit.

She looked like a blood-hungry ghost.

“Pah! What a foul taste! Are the Namgung family’s exalted internal arts useless when it comes to improving the quality of your flesh?”

“You demon, ghh. A depraved heretic through and through—now you even relish human flesh!”

“You are an old fool, as sour as spinach gone bad with age. But what you said earlier was not without merit.”

Master wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“The Great War Between Orthodox and Demonic Forces should have ended on the first day. Both you and I were soft. We thought we were fighting with everything at stake, but in truth, we were not. We did not truly stake our lives!”

“...”

“Today’s battle is a second chance we should never have been given.”

Master looked at me.

Warm, gentle affection filled her ink-black eyes.

“We cannot foolishly repeat the same mistake. Axe Immortal, today I shall pour out everything I have.”

“... You intend to break open your vital energy?”

“Yes.”

Innate vital energy.

The energy everyone possessed from birth. In other words, life force itself. Unlike internal energy, vital energy could not be artificially accumulated. Once spent, it was gone. And the fate of a martial artist who drew upon their own life was predetermined.

Death. Or permanent debilitation.

For those of the martial world, vital energy was truly the last resort. It was a stand with their backs to the river.

“... Demon, both you and I are weakened as it is.”

The Murim Alliance Leader spoke. Was it because he had lost an ear? His face was twisted in a terrible scowl.

“Even if we draw on our vital energy now, we can only demonstrate the skill of middling or lesser fighters, never masters. We have neither internal energy nor even our dantians. Displaying godlike power is impossible. ... Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“You mean to break open your vital energy merely to display, at best, a middling fighter’s prowess?”

“Of course.”

Master smiled.

“Do not be angry, Namgung Un. I am not trying to throw away my life. Certainly not. I merely wish for my inevitable final day to be today.”

“...”

“Right now, I feel the incomparable joy of being alive. I am grateful, and grateful again. Grateful to myself for surviving until today, and grateful to this fate that allows me to die today.”

“Even though the world has perished?”

“Yes. I am grateful for every bond I have encountered up to this moment.”

Master slowly assumed a stance.

Right hand forward. Left hand back.

“Looking back, I have truly been a happy martial artist.”

WHOOOOSH!

Snow blew through the air. It was not snow falling from the sky. A small whirlwind swirled around Master. Her innate vital energy was flowing out. Wind spread outward from her.

“... I see. So that is how it is.”

The Murim Alliance Leader received her wind on his bare face.

“Very well. I, too, have long yearned for a day like today.”

The wind reversed its course.

“Let us die together, Heavenly Demon.”

The two ran toward each other.

And I watched two lives flow across the snowfield.

Master struck aside the Murim Alliance Leader’s hand. He hooked her foot. As their arms crossed and their footwork intersected, vital energy streamed ceaselessly from their bodies. It was life leaking away.

The eternal snow that the sun could not melt melted in the lives of those two people.

Master struck the Murim Alliance Leader’s waist. Wind blew. Snow slid away in the direction her fingertips pointed, along the path the wind had taken.

In a world blanketed in snow, only the paths traced by their hands and feet slowly revealed bare earth.

“...”

That was not all.

Around Master and the Murim Alliance Leader as they fought, things that were not white were sprouting, little by little, rapidly. Weeds. Thickets. The rest of the land remained frozen beneath snow, but seasons bloomed along the path of their battle.

—They’re growing by feeding on the vital energy.

The attendant spirit spoke casually.

—Vital energy from masters of that caliber is practically a feast. Even if it only lasts a moment.

Even if it lasted only an instant, their season was beautiful.

The earth drank in the vital energy they spilled. And for a little while, the world returned to what it had been before eternal winter engulfed it.

There stood a forest of peach blossoms.

Peach trees grew and thickened as though time had sped up. They resembled human fingers. Branches crawling up from the earth stretched their grasp toward the sky, as though trying to seize something.

Flowers bloomed.

Between petals dappled pink, through gaps in the fingerlike branches, Master and the Murim Alliance Leader matched their martial arts.

Movements of hands and feet meant to kill each other.

Yet when the petals briefly hid them, it became a matching of dances, like a graceful dance step; and because the lives they had lived hung in the balance, it was a matching of lives. Hidden behind flower petals, so much of the world became radiant. Even murderous intent. Even your venom, my master.

—... This is a little unusual.

A white snowfield.

Red peach petals fluttered through the air.

—Is it because one was born with an Extreme Yin Constitution and the other with a Heaven-Blessed Martial Body? Yin and yang have meshed almost perfectly. The space around those two is already another world. ... Even I’ve never seen anything this extraordinary.

Peach blossoms bloomed and fell.

Spring lingered, then passed again.

“Heavenly Demon’s Sovereign Step.”

Master stepped forward. A blizzard swept in, scattering peach blossoms.

“Golden Axe Shatters Heaven.”

The Murim Alliance Leader seized her wrist and twisted it. The snowy wind ceased, and the peach blossoms returned to full bloom.

“...”

A single petal rode the wind and settled on my shoulder.

Only then did I understand.

Those red flowers were Master’s blood. The Murim Alliance Leader’s blood.

Petals that had bloomed after drinking the last blood those two would shed.

“... I hate you.”

Winter is bleeding.

“I hate all of you.”

Master.

“I hate the orthodox factions. I hate the great heroes. I hate the Nine Sects. I despise the Five Great Families. While the common people scream, you are happy. Aloof. But it is not your happiness I cannot forgive. It never was.”

Master.

“That even the likes of you feel pain,”

Peach blossoms bloomed and fell, seasons lingered and passed, but fewer and fewer petals bloomed, and each season stayed a shorter time.

“That even the likes of you say life is painful, wear expressions of suffering, speak of your hurt, seek comfort, offer comfort—and thus pretend to be human.”

Master is dying.

“That is what I despise.”

The flowers fall.

“Why?”

The season wanes.

“Why are you endlessly beasts to others, yet boundlessly human only to yourselves?”

Countless peach blossoms hid their shadows.

In retrospect, it was a fleeting dream, a duel lasting only the time it took to drink a cup of tea.

The branches withered. No more peach blossoms could bloom. Wind blew, covering the bare ground in snow again. Amid the fallen petals, Master and the Murim Alliance Leader stood tall.

“...”

A stagger.

“... Ghh, hng! Phh, huph...!”

Something a little redder was coughed up onto the red flower bed.

It was the Murim Alliance Leader’s blood.

Master’s tightly clenched fist rested against his chest. The old man swayed like a mirage. Then he fell lightly. Red flowers stirred as they softly received his body.

Master stood still.

“Master.”

No answer could come, though I called.

“Master.”

I took a step. Hurried. Ran to her and embraced her body, standing motionless.

Cold.

Her body is as cold as ice.

“Master...”

“I won.”

Master’s voice was clear. The warmth that had vanished from her body still lingered in her voice. Yet she was so light. Her fingers, her body—everything had become light, as though she had aged in an instant.

“Yes, you won. You won.”

“My fist should have pierced his chest and seized his heart. Instead of piercing it, I merely struck him. I am ashamed to face my disciple.”

“No, not at all.”

“Yes, I suppose my face still looks better than yours does now. What kind of expression is that?”

I carefully laid Master in my arms. I enveloped her body in aura. Yet she did not grow warmer in the slightest. She stroked my cheek. Even the fingertips caressing it were as cold as icicles.

“Do not worry, my disciple. I still have one double-hour before I breathe my last.”

Two hours.

“Is that not enough time to say farewell?”

Only two hours remained in which I could hear this person’s voice, hear her breathe.

“... Yet you still look ready to cry.”

Master looked sad.

“What a disciple, putting her teacher in such a difficult position. Though I have already put you in one. I wanted to take a long time to pass on everything, but this old woman’s stubbornness has made even that impossible. I worry about what I will remain as in your heart, what I will have left you.”

“I fear I may become emptiness to you,” Master whispered, then coughed up blood.

“If you remembered me as a single flower that briefly bloomed and faded, I could ask for nothing more...”

“Death King!”

An urgent shout rang out.

It was the Apothecary’s voice. Perhaps they had only just learned that the Great War Between Orthodox and Demonic Forces had taken place on the snowfield; she and our companions from the Tower were running toward us, breathless.

“Death King, wh-what happened...?”

“Hey! Master?”

Viper spotted the Murim Alliance Leader and recoiled in surprise.

“Are you okay? Hey, Master! Hey! Open your eyes!”

“That old fossil is fine.”

Master gave a small cough.

“My final punch was shallow. It did not go deep. He boasted that heaven’s fortune was with him today... I suppose living out his days debilitated is his heavenly fortune.”

“D-debilitated?”

The Apothecary’s mouth opened and closed.

“I would never let that... A-anyway, there’s no time for this! Both of you need treatment immediately!”

“I need none. Tend to the old man.”

“But...!”

“I know my own body best. This body is already nearing its end.”

“And,” Master said.

“I wish to spend my final moments with my only disciple.”

“...”

“Child, would you be kind enough to leave us alone?”

The Apothecary was both a pharmacist and a doctor. She came over and firmly checked Master’s pulse. She activated a skill to examine her patient’s condition.

A shadow fell over her face.

“... I have a painkiller. Would you like an injection?”

“No need.”

Master smiled.

“The winter wind is lovely. It feels good, cool against my chest. When I pass to the other shore, I wish to feel this wind in its entirety.”

“...”

The Apothecary stood. She quietly bowed her head to Master. The Medicine King, who had stood without speaking, gestured to gather the others. Before long, they carried the Murim Alliance Leader on someone’s back and returned to the cave.

They were giving Master and me our privacy.

“... Master.”

“Now, then.”

Master held my hand.

“How shall we pass the double-hour that remains? Are you curious about my childhood? Would you like to hear how beautiful our Cult’s mountain headquarters is?”

“A request.”

I, too, firmly clasped Master’s dry hand.

Something still remained.

Your life was not yet complete. To give you an ending you could be wholly satisfied with, to let you experience the finest moment, one more piece of the puzzle was still needed.

“I have a request.”

“What is it?”

“Please duel with me.”

Master’s eyes widened.

“How unexpected. Your desire as a disciple to surpass your master is admirable, but as you can see, I can move no more. Gongja, what satisfaction would you gain from defeating me when I cannot so much as stir?”

“It need not be a duel where we move our bodies.”

“Hmm?”

“I wish to face you in a verbal sword duel.”

“A verbal sword duel.”

A verbal sword duel.

A duel fought with words rather than the body.

You describe which technique you will use and how you will attack. When your opponent responds, you describe your counter to that response.

Thus, there is no need to move your limbs. No need for internal energy, either.

A battle fought purely with insight into martial arts.

A contest of martial knowledge.

“Well, now.”

That was why Master smiled softly.

“My disciple has grown quite conceited. In a physical contest, Gongja, you would be certain to win, but in a verbal sword duel, certain to lose. I shall deploy my techniques freely, as though I had returned to my prime. How will you fight me when you have grasped only a few fragments of the Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven?”

“I...”

I opened my mouth.

“I don’t think your duel with the Murim Alliance Leader just now was the best you could do. You said so yourself. Ordinarily, you would have pierced his chest and seized his heart. ... Even if it is only a battle of words, I want your final duel to be the one that satisfies you most.”

The finest battle, leaving no regrets.

That would be every martial artist’s wish.

“Are you saying you can show me that, Gongja?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm...”

Master seemed amused by my proposal. Did she think it was her young disciple’s childish bravado? She showed no expectation that I would truly present her with such a duel.

“Very well. But I will not go easy on you even in a verbal sword duel. I shall yield the first move, but do not resent me too much if I finish you in a single blow.”

“Yes.”

“Once the duel is over, I shall tell you stories of my past! Now, show your master the fruits of your training.”

Master smiled brightly.

It was a smile fragrant with peach blossoms.

I looked down at her face, then slowly turned my gaze to the man sitting opposite me. A martial artist who had reached the summit not here, but in another world.

—Mm.

The Sword Emperor.

—Is it finally my turn?

A being who had become the greatest of all time in another martial world.

Though he was a ghost and could not fight physically, he could engage in a verbal sword duel if he borrowed my mouth.

‘Yes. Please honor the [promise] you made when you lost the wager.’

—All right.

The attendant spirit grinned.

—I wanted to have a bout with this world’s Demonic Cult leader anyway.

He sat on the snow with his arms folded.

—I’ll give her the finest duel. Tell her I’ll yield the first three moves.

With me between them, the supreme masters of two martial worlds faced each other.