Chapter 06

For time immemorial, the greatest topic of debate among the martial artists and the connoisseurs who loved to compare them had been the classification of a warrior’s prowess. They had long sought to systematize the realms of martial arts, to grade a warrior’s skill just as one would grade tea leaves or silk fabrics.

To state the conclusion first, every attempt had failed.

Using the sheer volume of one’s internal energy as a metric proved flawed. Using the point at which one could project their Qi externally as a benchmark also proved inadequate. Even using pure combat power as a standard was riddled with problems. While combat strength seemed the most promising criterion, it, too, ultimately failed. The outcome of a fight was simply too dependent on the compatibility between individuals—their styles, strengths, and weaknesses.

And so, the effort to create a detailed hierarchy of ranks was abandoned. Only a single, simple standard remained.

The Wall.

Every martial artist, in their journey of growth, eventually reaches a point where their progress slows, where they inevitably encounter a single, monolithic wall. Those who manage to cross that wall attain a level of strength so great it is as if they have been reborn, and the path to further growth opens to them once more.

Thus, people naturally came to call those powerful individuals who had crossed the wall ‘masters.’

***

The moment she saw Geum-ju, Se-ah’s³ bodyguard, Gyu, knew she was defeated.

Unlike Gyu herself, who had only just managed to reach the foot of the wall, the power radiating from Geum-ju was undeniably that of a ‘master’ who had already crossed to the other side.

“Still,” she muttered, her knuckles white on the hilt of her sword, “I have my pride. I will not go down so easily.”

And more than anything, she had to protect her lady. She was a bodyguard.

“First Sword: Stance.”

In her school, the act of raising one’s sword to assume the opening stance was taught to be the equivalent of the very first strike. It signified the moment the mind and body transitioned into a perfect state of combat readiness.

In that instant, Gyu’s entire aura changed.

Her vision, sharpened to its absolute limit, caught the moment Geum-ju launched herself from the ruined building.

She’s…!

It was the instinct honed through countless real battles that saved Gyu’s life.

…coming!

She moved without thinking, her body flowing through her school’s footwork as Geum-ju’s attack, a blur of motion like a beam of light, slammed into the spot where she had been standing an instant before.

She’s insane…!

Though she had avoided a direct hit, the shockwave from the impact still slammed into her. Rather than resisting, Gyu let her body ride the force, the profound subtleties of her footwork absorbing the blow. She made a quick calculation. Geum-ju’s first attack had been incredibly powerful; the likelihood of an immediate second strike was low. Nevertheless, she instantly prepared the strongest defense she was capable of.

“Fourth Sword: Fog.”

It was the ultimate defensive art of her sword style, a technique designed to dominate and seal off an entire plane of attack. And once again, her instincts were right. Two more attacks, streaking through the cloud of dust and debris, were intercepted and blocked by the wall of her sword.

“Kugh!”

It was a defense fueled by a massive surge of her internal energy. Geum-ju’s two follow-up strikes sent a shock through her that felt as if it would shatter her wrist and tear her shoulder from its socket. The lingering momentum from her evasive footwork sent her crashing back into a wall, the impact jarring her to the bone.

But… she had bought time.

“Hoh?”

Geum-ju emerged from the dust cloud, her crimson dress swirling around her. “Not bad, are you?”

Just as Gyu had predicted, Geum-ju’s arrogant nature demanded a few words before the kill. But this time, Gyu moved against her own prediction.

“Second Sword: Raging Torrent.”

It was a technique that was both offense and defense in one, designed to sever the flow of an opponent’s attack and use that momentum to launch a counterstrike.

Damn it, offense and defense? I can barely…

She just managed to deflect the surprise attack Geum-ju had launched while feigning conversation. In truth, even deflecting it was an incredible feat. The blow had followed a bizarre, unpredictable trajectory.

“Well now, you really are something, aren’t you?” Geum-ju remarked, shaking out her wrist as if impressed.

Bare-handed?

Gyu couldn’t understand it. She had assumed Geum-ju was using a flexible weapon like a whip or a meteor hammer. There was no other way to explain that impossible trajectory. How could a human arm, with its joints and limitations, move in such a way?

“Hey, when someone pays you a compliment, you should thank them. What an ill-mannered little bitch.”

Gyu, having returned to her opening stance, did not reply. A part of her desperately wanted to engage in conversation, to buy even a few more seconds. But to break her breathing and concentration while facing an opponent whose realm was so clearly above her own was to invite death.

The problem is…

Whether she talked or not, she could feel her own limits rapidly approaching. The repeated use of her school’s powerful, internal energy-draining techniques was taking its toll.

“Not going to answer?”

This next attack was just as unpredictable. She managed to block the bizarrely twisting blow, but only because of a favorable matchup; the nature of her Raging Torrent technique, combined with her own superb instincts, allowed her to intercept it.

“I said, answer me.”

Another strike.

Damn it…!

A proper battle required a balance between internal and external techniques. But the vast difference in their levels of power forced her to rely solely on her most draining internal energy skills. Each use was exponentially depleting her reserves.

How many more can I block?

The feeling in her wrist was already gone. Her shoulder and back screamed in protest. Her danjeon was an empty void.

“Alright, then. Try and block this one.”

“……!”

The killing intent was so sharp it felt like it was piercing her soul. But this time, she couldn’t see any trajectory at all. It was an attack without form.

Fourth Sword: Fo—!

Her internal energy wouldn’t respond. The repeated use of her ultimate skills had overloaded her meridians.

“Kyaaah—!”

And yet, no blow landed on Gyu’s body. The shriek, sharp and piercing, belonged to neither her nor Geum-ju.

A young girl, her hands clad in fist gauntlets, tumbled across the ground after intercepting the blow meant for Gyu. She sprang back to her feet and waved. She was astonishingly beautiful.

“You’ve been waiting long? The reinforcements are here!”

“You little insect!”

“Miss, look out—!”

Geum-ju’s next attack was blocked by another figure.

“Oof…!”

He was a man built like a bear. His expression hardened as he took the blow. “Now this is a tough one. I’m not sure we’re going to be walking out of here alive.”

The young girl slammed her fists together. “We can win if we work together!”

The brief respite they had provided was enough for Gyu to soothe her overloaded meridians. She joined them, forming a new line of defense. “It’s no use, just the three of us. Are there no more reinforcements?”

At Gyu’s grim assessment, the young girl’s face fell. “For now, we’re all there is.”

Gyu clicked her tongue. “Then we have no choice.”

Geum-ju sneered at the three of them and beckoned with a condescending finger. “Finished your little conference? Then come at me together, you insects.”

***

Se-ah had managed to retreat to the field commander’s position and successfully dispatch the reinforcements to Gyu.

“…Are there absolutely no other martial artists available for support?”

“Not at this time, Mistress.”

Se-ah’s expression was dark.

“Team 3 and Team 10 are retreating due to heavy losses!”

“Support request from Team 17!”

The moment Geum-ju had appeared on the battlefield, the morale of the Black Bone Sect had, for some inexplicable reason, skyrocketed.

“Graaaah!”

Men who were little more than street thugs now charged with reckless abandon, wildly swinging their axes even as they were impaled on swords. Whether the man in front of them died, whether they themselves died, they just kept coming, wave after wave. To call it morale was no longer accurate. It was madness.

“Ugh!”

Just then, Se-ah saw the large, bear-like warrior who had been facing Geum-ju get thrown through the air. One of his arms was simply gone, and his body was a mangled ruin.

“No…!”

Before Se-ah’s cry had even ended, the beautiful young girl was also sent flying.

“Kyaak!”

Fortunately, her injuries did not appear to be as severe, but her face was pale, and a trickle of blood flowed from her lips—a clear sign of a powerful blow to her danjeon.

Only the battered and wounded Gyu remained. She stood her ground without yielding an inch, raising her sword to block Geum-ju’s path. Even from this distance, Se-ah could see her blade trembling uncontrollably.

“Gyu, run!”

But her voice was lost in the chaos of battle.

Gyu turned and looked directly toward Se-ah, as if wanting to sear her mistress’s face into her memory one last time.

My lady…

Across from her, Geum-ju raised a hand, and a visible, tangible energy began to coalesce around it.

And then, the darkness came.

Se-ah felt the white puff of her own breath grow thicker in the air. She felt the wind change direction. The sweat on her back turned to ice. As if possessed, her gaze was drawn to the direction the wind was coming from.

She was not the only one. The field commander beside her, his adjutants, they all froze, their eyes turning to stare in the same direction. The mad charge of the Black Bone Sect thugs, the desperate defense of the Crescent Moon Pavilion agents—all movement ceased. Even Geum-ju, the energy still gathering in her hand, and Gyu, preparing for her end, and the wounded warriors struggling to rise, all fell silent.

Every single person on that battlefield was now looking in the same direction.

To the west.

The red sun was sinking rapidly behind the distant mountains. The twilight stretched long shadows that bled into the deepening darkness. In that dim, crepuscular landscape, the rooftops of the tallest buildings clung to the last vestiges of the sunset.

And on the roof of the highest tower, a figure of pure ‘darkness’ was slowly raising its head.

A primal chill shot through the bodies of all who watched. The bravest man on that field trembled with fear; the most optimistic soul felt a pang of despair.

…Night.

Se-ah felt it on a subconscious level.

Night has come.

The darkest, coldest, most cruel of nights had come for them all.

The darkness on the rooftop unfurled, a violent fluttering like the spreading of great wings. It was a darkness deeper and more profound than the night itself. It was the perfect absence of light. With one beat of those wings, night descended upon the streets. The shroud of darkness spread out in all directions with the terrifying presence of the most ferocious beast. The sun, as if chased from the sky, vanished completely.

But in its place, there was no moonlight, no starlight. Every space was filled with a thick, viscous darkness. It poured down like a torrent from a burst dam, washing over all who watched.

…The white mask.

In the center of that absolute blackness was a face that seemed to mock the world. Only the white mask, which sneered at the powerless heavens and the fearless wicked alike, shone with a desolate light.

He looked down upon them all.

“You were waiting for me.”

The voice, like boiling molten steel, did not at first even register as a voice. The demonic sound bored into their ears, lacerated their eardrums, and only became meaning when it reached their brains.

Everyone on that field heard it.

Se-ah’s body trembled uncontrollably, but she could not tear her eyes away.

That… that is…

The reaper with the white face, The wielder of the ancient demonic scripture, the Scripture that Commands the Dark and Quakes the Heavens, The Venerable One of Dark Heavens had revealed himself in his entirety.