Facing Cheon Woo, Abbess Abi settled into a one-handed half-bow stance. She did not draw her sword.
Did she intend to weather three exchanges with such a posture?
Any ordinary martial artist would have flushed crimson with humiliation at the perceived slight, yet Cheon Woo remained surprisingly calm. Watching from the sidelines, Jin Cheon-hee considered the scene.
The Putuo Sect was a Buddhist order composed entirely of nuns, yet few in the Gangho truly understood its origins. Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, one of the great Buddhas, was revered as a female deity who guided sentient beings with boundless mercy and compassion. Legend held that she resided on Mount Putuoluo; fittingly, the Putuo Sect was based in the Zhoushan Archipelago on a mountain of the same name.
Of course, the real Avalokitesvara likely didn’t live on the physical mountain. Because of this devotion, however, the Putuo Sect worshiped her fervently, and the vast majority of their martial arts were derived from her image. Specifically, the shape of Abbess Abi’s hand during her half-bow mirrored the iconic mudra of Avalokitesvara herself.
Then again, in a world like this, anything is possible. But even if she exists, she would be akin to a ghost.
Since one could neither hear her voice nor meet her gaze, she was functionally non-existent. It was the same logic applied to those who attained enlightenment and ascended as Immortals in Wuxia—once they left, no one knew what became of them. Yet, her teachings survived, breathing life into the Putuo Sect.
“I will make the first move.”
Cheon Woo shifted.
“Cloud-Stepping Leap. Ten-Sequenced Brocade Technique.”
Because this was a friendly spar, Cheon Woo announced his techniques, his body advancing with movements as soft as drifting clouds yet as elusive as mist. Simultaneously, he extended his palm, executing the Wudang Sect’s supreme art.
His movements were slow, languid even. But to the trained eye, the immense, colossal force imbued within that leisurely gesture was terrifying. His sleeves billowed, and the air itself trembled. This was the Ten-Sequenced Brocade Technique, an art reputed to shatter boulders with a single blow.
The Wudang Fist Emperor was a master of fist techniques, but in Wudang, “fist” did not imply the exclusion of the palm or fingers. He was a master who had conquered all Wudang arts utilizing the hands. And Cheon Woo, effectively the Fist Emperor’s direct disciple, was likewise a master of these Hand Arts.
This sensation of being fast yet slow… that is the essence of Wudang.
It was the reason those unfamiliar with the sect often asked, “Why do they move so sluggishly?” But before the question could even leave their lips, the strike would already have landed.
Against this terrifying supreme art, Abbess Abi stood quietly, one hand in a half-bow, the other gripping her sheathed sword.
“The martial principle of ‘Movement within Stillness’ exists in Buddhism as well.”
And then.
Abbess Abi blocked the palm strike with her sword held vertically.
Claaaaang!
A sound capable of tearing eardrums erupted, echoing through the training grounds. Yet, Abbess Abi’s sword did not budge an inch. It remained suspended in mid-air, as if it were nailed to the very fabric of space.
“Immovable Wisdom King.”
Cheon Woo could not have known, but this was one of the Putuo Sect’s absolute defensive sword arts. Its essence was similar to the Thousand Catties Weight technique, allowing one to temporarily ‘fix’ the sword in the air, creating an absolute defense.
Cheon Woo’s eyes widened slightly, shocked that she had blocked it so flawlessly, but he immediately pivoted into his next attack.
“Supreme Purity Scattering Hands.”
This time, he unleashed another supreme art. It was a technique that added blinding speed to softness; though its destructive raw power was slightly less than the Ten-Sequenced Brocade, it allowed for dozens of strikes in a single breath.
“Thousand-Armed Tathagata.”
However, Abbess Abi was his match. Her sword seemingly multiplied into hundreds of afterimages, as if the Thousand-Armed Avalokitesvara had descended to intercept every single blow. It was a dazzling display of divine supreme arts clashing in a storm of motion.
“Now. Only the last move remains.”
Abbess Abi took a step back and spoke calmly. Cheon Woo assumed a starting stance, his expression heavy with concentration.
“Then, I will use my greatest technique. If you block even this, it is your victory, Abbess Abi. True Ultimate Divine Fist, Transcendental Core Martial Art: Supreme Unity Union and Separation.”
His two hands were dyed with the opposing powers of Yin and Yang. Then, slowly, they merged into one, becoming Taiji. It wasn’t Sword Qi; it was the raw power of Yin and Yang formed by Fist Qi. As they combined, a formidable, suffocating momentum began to rise.
Watching silently, Abbess Abi quietly wrapped her sword in Sword Qi and responded.
“Thousand-Armed Avalokitesvara Guiding Sword Art. Transcendental Core Martial Art: Vajra Samadhi.”
Her Sword Qi began to expand, growing immense. Soon, the distinction between wielder and weapon vanished; she herself became a single sword, standing tall as she bloomed with power.
What is Samadhi?
Could a human truly discard worldly desires and focus uprightly on a single truth?
Finally, the two forces collided.
Ka-boom!
Unable to withstand the massive collision, the floor of the sparring ground tore apart, stone shattering into dust. Yet even amidst this destruction, Abbess Abi’s sword remained devoid of thought and devoid of self—simply severing, severing, and severing worldly desires.
Cheon Woo sensed defeat the moment his fist failed to reach her.
No, there wasn’t a soul in the Gangho who didn’t know this was a reckless challenge from the start. Jin Cheon-hee also keenly felt the gap; his own sword could not yet reach the height of Abbess Abi’s Transcendental Core Martial Art.
Is the Putuo Sect alive in that strike?
It was the final realm aspired to by the Arhats. The heart striving toward that place became Vajra, finally igniting here as a Transcendental Core Martial Art.
Simultaneously with the end of Cheon Woo’s third move, Abbess Abi’s sword drew a line. A clean, straight line containing not a single speck of delusion.
Shhhk.
Abbess Abi’s sword grazed Cheon Woo’s shoulder, slicing off a small piece of his clothing.
“Amitabha.”
“…You didn’t have to teach me to this extent,” Cheon Woo said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I have merely repaid the grace I received from the Fist Emperor in the past,” she replied. “This is sufficient.”
Shiing.
She gently sheathed her sword. Only then did Jin Cheon-hee realize the truth: Abbess Abi’s sword had no edge. She had sliced the fabric with a blunt blade.
It was astonishing.
I didn’t even feel any Sword Qi. She didn’t use brute force either. Creating that kind of cutting power with a blunt blade without using internal energy…?
Jin Cheon-hee stared with wide eyes. “How is that possible?”
He realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. In the martial world, asking to be taught a secret art when one wasn’t a disciple was a grave breach of etiquette. However, Abbess Abi answered without the slightest displeasure.
“It is cutting with the mind.”
“Pardon?”
“What we commonly call Sword Qi, Sword Thread, and Sword Aura are merely other names for the Heart. If one resolves to cut, one can cut even with a wooden stick. That is Will.”
“…”
Cheon Woo looked perplexed, unable to grasp the concept. It was an extremely high, lofty martial art. However, for some reason, Jin Cheon-hee felt he had grasped a faint clue.
“Is that… possible?”
“In Buddhism, it is said that even an ant can become a Buddha if it attains enlightenment,” Abbess Abi replied softly. “Likewise, even a child can split a cliff if they reach the state of Will.”
Jin Cheon-hee bowed deeply, offering a respectful fist-palm salute.
“Some time ago, the Sword King of the Namgung Clan and the Sword Queen of the Putuo Sect fought to determine the Sword Emperor. I didn’t know the result until now, but now I understand.”
“I understood that the Young Pavilion Master was unaware of that duel.”
“Congratulations on becoming the Sword Emperor.”
Abbess Abi neither affirmed nor denied the title. instead, she gazed intently at Jin Cheon-hee’s left arm.
“Even if you attain the realization of Will, Young Pavilion Master, you must not use it.”
Sensing the weight of her gaze on his injury, Jin Cheon-hee nodded. “Not yet… Yes. That is correct.”
Honestly, he envied Cheon Woo. His sworn brother must have gained a massive amount of insight from this spar. In a way, Cheon-hee might even blame himself for being far weaker than his brother. But the guy didn’t know what he possessed.
Above all…
“Cheon Woo, your sense of distance has improved a bit this time.”
“You noticed, Brother?”
“Using fists was partly to feel the distance better, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Rascal, you’ve improved a lot.”
He was a pathetic brother, jealous of his younger sibling’s talent. Feeling slightly ashamed of himself, he praised Cheon Woo’s improvement to cover his insecurity.
Cheon Woo nodded earnestly. “It’s thanks to you, Brother.”
“What thanks? It’s all you.”
Fortunately, it seemed he didn’t notice the envy.
I should go back and do some mental cultivation. Quickly. Why is the human heart not so easily tamed?
Jin Cheon-hee diligently comforted the petty person living inside him.
***
“Hey, you bastards. Are you still saying you’ll eliminate Jin Cheon-hee? I’m against it. Saving people is what’s important. What else matters?”
The King of Wandering Vagrants wore an annoyed expression as she stared down the two figures before her. Holding a large bowl in her hand, she poured Hangzhou’s pride, Shaoxing Wine, into it using the Void-Grasping Art.
“Do you not know that the brat’s actions could bring about a greater calamity?”
“The war with the Suksin Tribe is the same. It was something that should have happened at least decades later.”
“Bullshit,” she spat. “Then even more blood would have flowed decades later. Isn’t that right?”
“That is the Heavenly Will.”
“The Heavenly Will decreed it so.”
One visitor wore black Taoist robes and a black Taoist crown. The other wore white Taoist robes and a white Taoist crown. They were middle-aged men with strangely beautiful features, looking identical to one another.
These were the Black and White Eccentric Immortals—masters of the previous generation whose names had faded into myth within the Gangho.
“Black and White Eccentric Immortals,” the King sneered. “The Heavenly Fate you guys claim exists is already gone. Admit it. It’s already gone bad, like spoiled tofu that’s way past its expiration date.”
Absolute masters, known to be comparable to the Ten Greatest Masters under the Heavens thirty years ago, were now sitting in front of the King of Wandering Vagrants.
“So shouldn’t we set it right?”
“Correct. We must eliminate him. Before it becomes impossible to turn back.”
“I said it clearly. I’m against it.”
“You just need not to interfere. So, give us your word.”
“Just don’t get in our way. Swear it. That you won’t interfere.”
“What? Did you guys come here to fight me right now?”
Voooom.
The air grew scorchingly hot. The aura emitted by the three masters pressed down on the surroundings with a gravity beyond imagination.
“Very well. We won’t force a promise.”
“However. Your stubbornness may lead to your destruction.”
“You know that our attempt to protect the Heavenly Fate is ultimately for the world and for the people, do you not? There must be no division among us.”
“Do not actively interfere. Standing by is sufficient.”
The two middle-aged men stood up in unison.
“Then we shall see you later. Please take care of yourself.”
“Stay well.”
With those words, the two scattered like smoke and disappeared. Looking at the empty space where they had vanished, the King of Wandering Vagrants frowned, lost in thought.