Chapter 35: Sword and Mind as One (2)

For a moment, Choa and Seo Ye-rin vanished from the broadcast screen.

It was only natural—no ordinary camera, especially one without professional-grade specs, could possibly track the movements of superhuman combatants.

But their figures quickly returned to view.

The first clash had slowed their pace just enough for the camera to catch up.

Standing just one step apart, Choa and Seo Ye-rin simultaneously extended their arms.

Choa’s right arm shot out with rigid force, while Seo Ye-rin’s left arm rose smoothly in response.

A clash between an A-rank Hunter and a C-rank awakened.

Logically speaking, Choa should be outmatched in both speed and power.

And truthfully—Choa herself lacked confidence.

While Blood Heaven Blood Refinement Method was an excellent martial art, she still believed her current level was not enough to stand against an A-rank Hunter.

And she wasn’t wrong.

Even though Choa struck first, Seo Ye-rin’s counter came a half-beat quicker, intercepting her trajectory cleanly.

To move forward, Choa would now have to break through Seo Ye-rin’s line.

That would require a test of strength.

And Choa had already concluded she couldn’t win in a direct power clash.

So she switched tactics: Golden Silk Bind.

Instead of withdrawing her arm, she entangled it—locking one of Seo Ye-rin’s arms into a grappling knot.

Pop-pop-pop!

The moment their arms collided, Choa’s movements spun with dazzling speed.

Their arms locked and twisted in place like they were trying to hold onto each other—
Seo Ye-rin’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected move.

“Now—!”

Blood Spirit Seal Meridian Locking Style.

Strictly speaking, this was not a basic binding technique.

It was a method that interfered with an opponent’s energy pathways, using blood as a medium to restrict movement and control their inner power.

A qi technique that incorporated the philosophy of binding, but it was far more advanced.

Because it was a qi-based technique, one needed to be at least in the Peak stage, capable of releasing true energy externally, to wield it properly.

And Choa? She was only Second-rate.

So strictly speaking, the skill was far too advanced for her current level.

She couldn’t yet project her qi outside her body.

But still—it wasn’t completely useless.

“One arm’s sealed. It won’t last long, but while we’re this close—!”

Red light flared in Choa’s eyes as she drew her sword with her left hand.

The blade flashed with a sharp, silver-white gleam.

Choa was right-handed.

She normally used her right hand to wield her sword, and her left lacked some strength.

But she already had a way to compensate for that.

“First Phase Acceleration—Double speed!”

A sudden surge of internal energy filled her body.

Choa channeled that force entirely into the sword strike in her left hand.

Among the sword forms Cheon Hwi had taught her, Choa had learned three total techniques.

Of those, this was the most basic form.

Simple, straightforward, and thus, the easiest to unleash instantly.

“Taesan Apjeong!” (Crushing Summit Downfall!).

The name of a martial technique often embodies its philosophy and spirit.

And for martial artists, calling out the name of a technique while executing it helps bring its spiritual intent to the surface, making it clearer and more focused.

Just like a warrior’s battle cry, shouting the name sharpened Choa’s mind as she brought her sword crashing down in a blur of motion.

Her arm, which had been thrust upward, sliced down like lightning.

The sword carved a silver-white arc in the air, descending like a bolt of thunder aimed directly at Seo Ye-rin’s right shoulder.

A gleam of silver light, and then…

The flash died out before it could land.

It didn’t work.

Choa knew it instinctively—her strike had failed.

“You’re fast. I’m impressed.”

Choa’s eyes widened as the gleam of her blade cleared, and revealed what lay beneath.

Condensed magical energy, shaped like armor, was wrapped tightly around Seo Ye-rin’s body.

This was the specialized mana control unique to magic-type Hunters, and now, it was on full display.

Magic was technically an offshoot of her Trait.

But Seo Ye-rin didn’t treat it as something dependent on her Trait alone.

In that moment, she hadn’t used magic, but that didn’t mean her skill vanished with it.

Within the Association, she was considered one of the top experts in fine-grained mana control.

Creating a suit of magical armor on the spot?

She could do it reflexively, without conscious thought or incantation.

And her confident response?

It proved that her belief wasn’t arrogance—it was well-earned ability.

“Looks like I can’t afford to hold back either.”

Seo Ye-rin’s right hand moved.

She had originally planned to go easy, but now realized that Choa’s skill was beyond what she expected.

Choa, sensing the shift, moved in panic.

She activated Blood Sea Swimming Dragon Steps.

The bind was broken in an instant.

Her footwork—fluid like water, light like a leaping beast—let her retreat with natural, flowing grace.

“H-Hiiiik—?!”

Tap.

The distance Choa had just created—Seo Ye-rin closed it in a single breath.

She drew her shoulder back slightly, her right hand folding smoothly with the motion.

Then, almost like it blurred into mist, her arm snapped forward in a streak of light.

“…!”

But it didn’t connect.

Choa, unleashing Blood Sea Swimming Dragon Steps once again, twisted her body with a subtle shift in balance.

Her center of gravity tilted.

And in a diagonal dip, almost like stumbling, Choa slipped under Seo Ye-rin’s punch.

The fist swung past harmlessly through open air.

And in the gap between the missed strike and Seo Ye-rin’s recovery, Choa found her opening.

Unlike when she’d been locked in close with the binding technique earlier, this was a real opening.

One that couldn’t be patched immediately.

Seo Ye-rin’s torso, from chest to abdomen, was wide open.

Choa’s eyes locked on, and she swung her sword.

Blood-Stained Asura Sword Technique.

This wasn’t one of the simple forms from the Samjae Sword Technique.

It was a sword art designed to be used in tandem with the Blood Heaven Blood Refinement Method, a technique worthy of being called a divine martial art, packed with profound mysteries and layered movements.

This wasn’t something Seo Ye-rin could block with magical armor alone.

Knowing this, Choa poured her strength into the blade and launched the opening form.

A diagonal slash that rose like an ascending cleave, it carried a bloodthirsty, explosive aura.

Seo Ye-rin, feeling the danger instinctively, let out a breath.

“Tch…!”

She wasn’t well-versed in martial arts.

But you didn’t need to be a master to feel when something was wrong.

Years of combat had sharpened Seo Ye-rin’s intuition, and it screamed at her, this slash wasn’t ordinary.

Her lips moved on reflex to chant a spell, but she bit them shut, remembering Cheon Hwi’s restriction.

I didn’t think she’d get this far…

Impressed despite herself, Seo Ye-rin clicked her tongue and switched to her backup plan, pure mana output.

Mana surged from her like an explosion.

The overwhelming pressure of an A-rank Hunter’s magic dulled Choa’s momentum for a moment.

Seo Ye-rin concentrated mana where the slash would land—

And then blasted it outward, like a shotgun of compressed force.

The shockwave collided with Choa’s attack, scattering the energy and significantly dampening the power of her strike.

The weakened sword strike shattered against the mana armor, dispersing like mist.

Immediately after, Seo Ye-rin’s left arm, which had swung at empty air, snapped back into position.

“Urk?!”

Seo Ye-rin, now fully back in proper form, twisted her waist.

The rotation of her torso amplified the power behind her next strike.

Choa, realizing this simple yet terrifying truth, went pale.

Her body was still tilted—off balance from the desperate counter she had just committed to.

That last-ditch strike—her moment of retaliation—had been deflected.

And now, she was wide open.

If she got hit now, she’d lose.

But she couldn’t block it.

Not properly, not with her balance off-kilter.

She desperately wanted to dodge.

But she was too late.

Is this it?

My limit…?

Honestly, just holding her ground against an A-rank Hunter for this long was already an achievement.

That thought passed through her mind.

And she nearly let her body go limp, ready to accept defeat.

But then—

“First Phase Acceleration…”

Suddenly, something surged in Choa’s throat—an emotion she couldn’t quite name.
A heat rose up, raw and unfiltered.

Her grip on the sword tightened.

Explosive energy surged through every fiber of her being.

“TRIPLE speed!”

Still unbalanced, Choa slammed her foot into the ground.

Her body launched sideways into the air, twisting in a full spin on the spot.

Using her full-body rotation to create torque, and amplifying it with First Phase Acceleration, she compensated for her broken balance.

It was instinctive.

A split-second decision, born not from calculation, but from raw will.

And yet.

The movement flowed like she’d practiced it a thousand times.

“Giving up after all that—how pathetic…!”

In that instant, Choa finally understood what that burning feeling in her chest was.

There were many emotions swirling inside her.

But they could be boiled down to two.

Shame.

And anger.

She was disgusted by her own weakness, by how easily she was about to surrender just because the odds looked grim.

Gritting her teeth, Choa mentally scolded the version of herself from just a second ago.

This isn’t why I dreamed of becoming a Hunter.

Hunters protect everyday life.

They fight with strength and courage to defend the world, and give people hope for the future, even if it means burning themselves out.

Choa was no different.

She remembered clearly.

Over a decade ago, during a Gate Break in the city, a Hunter had saved her.

That Hunter had fought a reckless, foolish battle, all to protect a single mother and her child.

He had stayed in the fight, doing his absolute best to see his will through to the end,
pressing forward even with a wounded body, driven by nothing but courage.

From behind that Hunter’s back, a much younger Choa had watched everything.

It didn’t matter if she lacked skill.

It didn’t matter if her power fell short.

As long as she stood her ground and gave everything she had, that would be enough.

To Choa, being a Hunter wasn’t just about making money or becoming famous.

It meant standing between people and disasters they couldn’t overcome on their own.

It meant being someone who could say, “You’ll be okay,” to someone trembling behind her.

So that the people she wanted to protect could feel safe.

That’s what she fought for.

That was why she learned the sword.

“Not yet…!”

Her grip on her sword tightened, tighter and tighter still.

So tight, in fact, that the wooden practice sword she held began to creak with a sound that shouldn’t have existed.

A sharp, threatening crack rang out as the training blade protested under her crushing grip.

But Choa didn’t care in the slightest.

Not about the sword.

Not about anything else.

Triple acceleration.

First Phase—Threefold.

The power, pushed to the very limits of her body, surged throughout her entire frame.

Her body, pushed to its breaking point, activated a level of mental clarity that sharpened her focus to an extreme.

Her awakened mind calculated everything at once.

The distribution of force, the type of form, the flow of her inner energy, the path of her sword, Seo Ye-rin’s likely responses.

All of it.

Instantly.

And what emerged from all those calculations…was not a move from the Samjae Sword Technique, nor from the Blood-Stained Asura Sword technique.

Not even the Academy’s modified sword forms.

It was just…

A cut.

A pure, primal slash.

Not a named technique, not a practiced form.

Just the act of cutting, the most fundamental, essential expression of the sword’s nature.

Slash.

A clean, clear strike.

A symbolic blow that captured everything a sword was meant to be.

“……?!”

KAANG!

A deafening clang echoed.

Seo Ye-rin’s strike, was deflected.

An A-rank Hunter’s attack had failed.

Eyes wide in disbelief, Seo Ye-rin froze.

Her lips, which had been clenched in focus, fell open slightly.

And a sharp breath escaped through the gap.

“Haa… Haa…!”

Choa stood, panting hard, her eyes blazing with a crimson light.

Her blood-red gaze, sharpened like a honed blade, shot forward.

And Seo Ye-rin, caught in its path, involuntarily shuddered.

Yet strangely, Choa herself was completely calm.

Her emotions were surging, yes.

But her mind was crystal clear.

Her internal energy flowed more freely than ever.

The sword in her hand moved without obstruction, even the faint dissonance that lingered felt no more unnatural than extending her own arm slightly farther.

Even that slight sense of disconnect, was vanishing.

It was as if the sword was no longer an object she held, but a part of her own body.

What’s happening to me…?

The moment she asked herself that question, a memory surfaced.

Cheon Hwi.

Her master.

The one she owed so much to.

And one of the short, passing phrases he once said, finally clicked into place, piercing straight through her understanding.

Ah, right. That’s what he called it.

“Sword and Mind as One.”

Murmuring the phrase to herself, Choa raised her sword.

The blade, held upright in front of her face, let out a clear, resonant ring.

I am the sword, and the sword is me.

It used to be such a difficult concept to grasp.

A riddle she could never unravel.

But now—she understood.

A realization bloomed within her.

And a bright, confident smile stretched across her lips.

Her blood-colored eyes, though eerie in hue, now shone with clarity.

So many emotions had passed through her, and yet what remained in her gaze was pure and brilliant.

I can do it.

Just a little further.

Just a little more, she could push forward again.

“Aura-infusion Blade.”

I pour my energy into the blade.

The inner power from the Blood Heaven Blood Refinement Method, coiled within her dantian, began to boil violently.

Sacred blood energy rushed through her meridians, flooding her entire body, and then flowed into her sword.

The blade turned a vivid, crimson red.

Choa stretched the blade forward, and with a gentle voice, she asked.

“Please… just a little more sparring.”

Right now, all she wanted, was to swing her sword freely.

A blush bloomed across Choa’s face as joy burst into a radiant smile.