Chapter v13c8

Binggeom’s common sense was facing a major crisis.

Sword energy lingering in space, transcending a hundred years!

The remnants of “his” terror, etched into the wall, had endured the weathering of time, their fear still palpable. Binggeom could feel the chilling sword energy emanating from each scar.

It was truly terrifying. This single wall was a testament to “his” power, the sheer terror he had embodied.

Clang!

Binggeom suddenly drew his sword. A transparent, bluish sword energy enveloped the blade, which gleamed coldly, as if carved from a glacier. A chilling aura, cold enough to freeze the air, emanated from the pale tip of the sword.

Some of the disciples shivered, feeling the cold.

“Oh!”

A flicker of admiration appeared in the Saber Emperor’s eyes as he watched the “swordsman.”

*Slash*

The sword swung silently.

Another scar appeared on the black wall. It was far superior to the previous saber marks. Gasps of admiration and awe erupted from the disciples.

But Binggeom himself wasn’t satisfied.

There were other sword marks on the wall, remnants of previous challenges. Some of them must have been made by the Saber Emperor himself.

They were shallower and wider, lacking sharpness. He compared them to the original.

The sword marks left by “him” carried an incomprehensible energy that transcended a hundred years. It was hard to explain, but each scar seemed to be alive.

Even though a hundred years had passed, he felt defeated.

Yeomdo, who had been silently observing his rival, finally moved. He couldn’t just stand there while Binggeom was basking in the disciples’ admiration. His competitive spirit had been ignited.

He couldn’t stand seeing Ice-Face showing off right under his nose.

As Yeomdo approached the Scarred Wall of Tribulation, the Vermilion Bird Squad members stepped back. It was a wise move, born from experience.

“Hmm!”

He glanced at Binggeom with a challenging look, then bowed briefly to the Saber Emperor, Yong Gyeong-ui, a gesture of respect for a senior swordsman. It was an uncharacteristic act for Yeomdo, surprising those who knew him.

Shing!

A crimson blade, as if forged from flames, emerged from its scabbard.

A fiery saber energy enveloped the blade, its heat radiating outwards. Some of the disciples stepped back, feeling the intense heat. It was sword flame energy.

The Saber Emperor’s eyes widened again.

Boom!

A deafening roar shook the heavens and earth. The mountain trembled, and the air vibrated. If Binggeom’s sword had been silent, Yeomdo’s saber was thunderous.

“Cough, cough!”

A cloud of dust rose, making it difficult to breathe. Those who hadn’t stepped back far enough were pelted with small pebbles.

“What? Did you chop the wall with an axe? What kind of saber mark is this?”

The Saber Emperor said, his eyes wide with surprise.

The difference between the two marks was clear. Binggeom’s sword mark was thin, sharp, and clean, like a thread. Yeomdo’s saber mark was thick, deep, and rough, as if made by a giant axe. But the power contained within it was undeniable.

“That’s our delicate uncle for you!”

Bi Ryu-yeon commented, dusting off his clothes.

They couldn’t determine who was superior. Their martial arts styles were too different to be compared based on their marks. Even the Saber Emperor, Yong Gyeong-ui, couldn’t judge.

“But whose sword mark is this? It looks new.”

Mo Yong-hwi pointed to a sword mark on the Scarred Wall of Tribulation. It was wide and lacked finesse, but it carried an immense power and force.

“Oh, good eye! That was left by a youngster from the Demonic Heaven Pavilion.”

‘Demonic Heaven Pavilion!’

Those three words made everyone’s eyes widen. They were their future opponents. Their gazes, as if on command, focused on the sword mark. Knowing your enemy’s strength was an advantage. They tried to deduce the opponent’s skill based on that single sword mark.

“But the Demonic Heaven Pavilion delegation…”

Yeomdo asked cautiously.

“Ah, those kids!”

They all assumed that the Demonic Heaven Pavilion delegation had also passed the second trial. But the answer was unexpected.

“They’re buried.”

His voice was calm, as if he were talking about an ordinary, everyday occurrence.

“B-Buried?”

They didn’t understand at first. So, the Saber Emperor had to explain, although he grumbled about being overworked.

Wouldn’t it be nice if everything could be explained in a single word? But humans, ever since they learned to speak, were prone to misunderstandings. So, sometimes, detailed explanations were necessary, especially for those with poor comprehension skills.

The Saber Emperor sighed and elaborated.

“Buried in the ground.”

“The ground…?”

The young disciples, who carried the future of the righteous faction on their shoulders, although they didn’t seem to realize it, still didn’t understand. They couldn’t comprehend even after such a detailed explanation? The Saber Emperor was getting annoyed. There was nothing more frustrating than a conversation filled with misunderstandings.

“Scholars call it ‘interment.'”

“Gasp!”

They finally understood.

“How could such a thing…”

The young disciples protested, emphasizing the sanctity of life. The old man’s response was indifferent.

“Do you think those weaklings deserve to survive in this world? Weakness is synonymous with uselessness. The martial world isn’t so wasteful as to support the weak.”

It was a cold, but logical argument, based on the principles of economics.

“It was probably around here.”

“Gasp!”

Their gazes followed his finger.

Now that he mentioned it, the ground did look a bit loose.

He must have made them dig their own graves, then buried them all!

What a heartless demon!

Their imaginations ran wild.

“I’ve buried enough bodies to fill two major sects.”

“Gasp!”

His voice was devoid of any remorse. He was just testing the waters.

“Actually, those corpses turn into ghosts at night, covered in faint shrouds, and they perform their unique martial arts techniques. It’s a demonstration of their resentment and curses. Every move they make is filled with their desire to defeat ‘him.’ Sometimes, they even come up with some impressive techniques. There’s a lot to learn! I’ve been improving my martial arts by watching them for the past hundred years!”

And as expected,

“Gasp!”

Another wave of shock and disbelief.

“This is unbelievable!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Amazing!”

“Can I do that too?”

“He deserves points for originality!”

Various opinions, although random, were expressed actively and enthusiastically. It seemed like a serious conversation was taking place.

The Saber Emperor suddenly sighed deeply. His temples were throbbing. He would bet his entire fortune that it wasn’t because of old age.

“Sigh. Please don’t be so easily fooled. I keep doing this because it’s amusing, and because it’s so absurd!”

The Saber Emperor, Yong Gyeong-ui, with his wild hair, bushy eyebrows, a giant saber that could cleave a bull’s neck in two, fierce tiger-like eyes that gleamed under the moonlight, and a massive, bear-like physique, looked around at them and grumbled.

“Hey, youngsters! Do I look like a cruel murderer?”

Silence!

They were speechless, nodding inwardly, but no one dared to answer.

“Sigh.”

The Saber Emperor sighed again. His empty sleeve flapped in the wind.

“I was going to say it was a joke…”

It’s awkward when a joke is taken seriously.

“But what’s the test for the second trial?”

“What? Ah, the test! Hmm…”

He looked as if he were thinking about something that didn’t require any thought.

“Alright! Let’s do this. If one of you can leave a saber mark that’s better than the one left by that Demonic Heaven Pavilion kid, you pass.”

Mo Yong-hwi stepped forward, but the Saber Emperor stopped him.

“What are you doing, trying to challenge me with a sword? Didn’t you hear me say ‘saber mark’?”

“Sabers and swords are both blades. It’s wrong to discriminate.”

Hmm.

The Saber Emperor seemed to be at a loss for words. He couldn’t make a lame excuse.

“Fine! Do whatever you want!”

He finally surrendered.

“I’ll give it a try.”

Someone stepped forward. It was Ha Yoon-myeong, the Storm Saber, the leader of the Divine Eagle Squad, the personal guard of the Gun ung hoe Leader, Maha Ryeong. His signature technique, the Drifting Saber Style, had earned him fame as a co-winner of the Three Star Martial Arts Competition.

Whoosh!

Ha Yoon-myeong approached the Scarred Wall of Tribulation and drew his saber without hesitation.

Clang!

“You failed!”

Yong Cheon-myeong said, without even looking.

If it had been an ordinary stone wall, they wouldn’t have even heard the sound of Ha Yoon-myeong’s saber striking it. The fact that they heard such a loud clang meant that his strike wasn’t clean.

His hand, gripping his saber, trembled. The wall was much harder than he had anticipated.

“Young man, how about you? Do you think you can do it? If you’re a true saber artist, you can’t miss this opportunity!”

The old man with the silver beard addressed Hyo-ryong, who was standing among them, his gaze fixed on the Scarred Wall of Tribulation, his expression blank. His voice was low, but it carried a power that sent ripples through Hyo-ryong’s heart.

But few people noticed. Yi Jin-seol, who was always by his side, replied,

“Grandfather, what are you talking about? This man…”

Before she could finish, Hyo-ryong started moving.

“Hyo…”

Yi Jin-seol reached out, but her hand grasped only empty air. She tried to follow him, but the old man stopped her with his staff. It was a simple gesture, but it robbed her of all mobility. She was trapped, like a sheep in a pen.

Hyo-ryong, his unfocused eyes staring into another world, didn’t seem to be in his right mind. The old man watched him walk towards the wall, his eyes sharp and profound.

“His instincts as a martial artist are still alive.”

His voice was so low that even Yi Jin-seol couldn’t hear him.

Clang!

The third challenger had just failed.