Episode 104: People on the Edge

Jo Kwan’s response wasn’t wrong.

An overwhelming sword strike approached, and he lowered his stance, raising his spear to meet it.

It was the best choice Jo Kwan could make. But even the best wasn’t enough.

Lying on the ground, Jo Kwan gasped for air.

Namgung Myung had indeed swung a sword.

Yet the wound left on Jo Kwan wasn’t a simple cut; it looked as if something had torn into him.

“Hah… hah… What did you do?”

“I’ve played enough. I just showed you a tiny glimpse of my true skill.”

Namgung Myung spoke with a feigned nonchalance, while Jo Kwan coughed up blood.

“Don’t lie. Who plays around until there’s a hole in their shoulder…?”

Namgung Myung didn’t bother to respond.

Jo Kwan’s breathing was labored, a wheezing sound escaping with each breath. The fierce determination of a warrior facing battle was absent from his eyes. He realized the fight was over, and his end was near.

Soon, the wheezing stopped.

Victory.

The moment Jo Kwan’s death was confirmed, Namgung Myung’s body went limp.

Crossing the pinnacle of life and death is a daunting experience for anyone. To unleash such formidable martial arts immediately after surpassing that peak is even more so.

Namgung Myung collapsed, unconscious.

The most shocked by this sight was Pyo Chung.

For a brief moment, he forgot about the disciples and the master of the Taeui Sword School who had fallen off the cliff.

Pyo Chung had thought of “Young Master Myung” as a talented young man, barely reaching the first-class level.

He had shown more than expected by holding his ground against Jo Kwan’s attacks with first-class skills.

But that wasn’t the end. As soon as he gripped his sword, he transformed, leaping over the pinnacle to display unparalleled martial arts. He crushed a master with a single move.

The power was so overwhelming that Pyo Chung began to doubt the swordsmanship he had practiced all his life at Wudang.

‘Amazing… No, this isn’t the time for that.’

Pyo Chung hurriedly approached to check on Namgung Myung’s condition.

Though he wasn’t skilled in medicine, he could tell who was on the brink of death and who wasn’t. To Pyo Chung’s relief, Namgung Myung wasn’t at death’s door.

‘Phew.’

Only then did Pyo Chung’s thoughts return to the master and disciples of the Taeui Sword School.

‘Tanglang, Sanjeo…’

With a heart-wrenching feeling, Pyo Chung approached the cliff.

He couldn’t see the bodies hidden by the trees, but he felt compelled to confirm where the master of the Taeui Sword School had fallen.

However, as Pyo Chung neared the cliff, the master of the Taeui Sword School suddenly leaped up from the edge, landing softly.

”…!”

Pyo Chung was so startled he couldn’t speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

The master of the Taeui Sword School tilted his head slightly.

“It was quite dangerous.”

”…How… how did you…?”

“What do you mean how? Do you think this is the first time I’ve faced someone trying to take me down with them?”

Though the master spoke with a casual air, his heart was pounding.

If he had been a moment slower in releasing Tanglang’s grip.

If Sanjeo’s push had been just a bit stronger.

If he hadn’t found a tree to grab onto when he leaped off Sanjeo.

If any of these had gone wrong, the master of the Taeui Sword School would have been lying dead at the bottom of the cliff.

Rain poured down heavily. The master wiped the rain from his face and surveyed the surroundings.

’…Why did Jo Kwan die?’

He didn’t know. But there was no need to dwell on it now. The only person standing before the master was Pyo Chung.

The master drew his sword.

“The pain will be brief.”

Dang Mujin had finished his battle with the warriors filling the narrow path.

About half had fallen to their deaths off the cliff, while the rest fled in terror.

He briefly considered chasing them down to finish the job but remembered his priorities. He needed to help those on the path. The situation was surely dire.

‘They better be holding on.’

When Dang Mujin reached the path, he was met with an unexpected sight.

Jo Kwan was dead, and Namgung Myung lay on his side, bleeding from his shoulder. Despite the grin on his face, he didn’t seem to be in mortal danger.

Pyo Chung was struggling to fend off the master of the Taeui Sword School. It was clear what needed to be done.

Dang Mujin used his swift footwork to rush to Pyo Chung and the master.

In one fluid motion, he drew his sword, intercepting the master’s blade aimed at Pyo Chung’s heart.

The sensation of the blade scraping against his own traveled up his arm.

The master, as if he had been targeting Dang Mujin all along, smoothly redirected his attack towards him.

Dang Mujin deflected the sharp thrusts twice in quick succession.

Before his arm could return to position, the master’s elbow came flying from his blind spot. Hesitation would mean a shattered temple.

Instinctively, Dang Mujin used a defensive technique to deflect the master’s attack. His palm tingled from the impact.

It was a precarious defense, but the best a lesser fighter could muster against a master.

A brief silence followed.

The master was inwardly impressed by Dang Mujin’s seamless response. Such skill at his age.

‘Both of these young ones are exceptional. Did Pyo Chung have some hidden confidence?’

Two budding talents, like flowers about to bloom.

It was curious how someone like Pyo Chung had managed to attract such individuals.

The master felt a desire to take Dang Mujin as a disciple.

But he didn’t voice this thought. He knew the talent was too great for him to nurture.

And if he couldn’t have it, it was better to eliminate it. Especially since they had already crossed swords.

The master’s attacks slowed. The heavy, lethal intent in his strikes vanished.

He began to inflict small wounds on Dang Mujin and Pyo Chung, slowly and methodically.

His defense became even more impenetrable.

At some point, neither Dang Mujin nor Pyo Chung could even graze the master’s clothes. It was a frustrating situation for Dang Mujin.

‘If this continues, there’s no way out.’

For a lesser fighter to defeat a master, they must exploit a weakness and take a decisive gamble.

The master knew this, so instead of rushing to end the fight, he eliminated any openings.

Even when Dang Mujin and Pyo Chung attacked simultaneously, he blocked them effortlessly, and their swift strikes couldn’t reach him.

Dang Mujin even tried throwing a dagger in secret. But that too was deflected. The master flicked the poisoned dagger off the cliff with ease. The pinnacle was high indeed.

“You seem to have quite a knack for the sword, and you’ve learned a few tricks too.”

Instead of responding, Dang Mujin racked his brain.

He couldn’t release poison into the air. Not only was it difficult to subdue a master like the Taeui Sword School’s master with airborne poison, but Dang Mujin’s poison techniques weren’t perfect yet. If he tried, Pyo Chung would be the first to succumb.

‘I need a plan.’

He recalled a time when he faced a similarly hopeless situation. Back then, the Heavenly King’s Needle Case given by Dan Seol-young had saved him.

As he reached this thought, he felt a small anomaly in his pocket.

‘There it is.’

He had one last trick to try. But whether it would succeed was uncertain.

“Hup!”

Dang Mujin swung his sword with force, drawing the master’s attention. Simultaneously, he reached into his pocket and opened the needle case. Three slender needles were now in his left hand.

When he had thrown the dagger earlier, the master had sensed it with the keen perception of a pinnacle master and deflected it.

‘But can he detect needles flying through the rain?’

Dang Mujin flicked his left hand to the side. The needles flew in a direction completely unrelated to the master. It was a subtle movement, and the master paid it no mind.

While swinging his sword at the master with his right hand, Dang Mujin used his inner energy to guide the needles towards the master.

The lives of Dang Mujin, Pyo Chung, and Namgung Myung depended on this simple trick, not even a lethal martial art.

As the needles changed direction, blood trickled from Dang Mujin’s nose.

Attempting to perform two techniques simultaneously without mastering the legendary dual-wielding skills was a reckless gamble.

Even though the left-hand technique was merely a simple air manipulation, it was still taxing.

For a moment, Dang Mujin’s vision went white.

With just one attempt, Dang Mujin hit his limit. Not a physical limit, but a mental one.

Yet, there was a definite effect. Even with the sharp senses of a pinnacle master, there was no way to detect needles flying from behind, especially amidst the pouring rain.

The master’s neck tingled.

‘What is this?’

A mere insect from the mountain?

No, it couldn’t be. On a day when the rain poured down in torrents, there was no way venomous insects would be flying around, and even if they were, no ordinary poison could be this potent.

The master of the Taeui Sword Sect quickly brushed his neck and pulled out three thin needles. He shouted defiantly, “Did you really think such petty tricks would work on me?”

Of course, a martial artist of his caliber wouldn’t be brought down by mere poison. He channeled his inner energy to naturally suppress the toxins, and his swordplay remained unaffected.

But after exchanging a few more blows, he felt a sharp sting in his shoulder.

He casually removed the needle and prepared to swing his sword again, but something felt off.

‘This isn’t the same poison.’

Every poison has its own nature, and the method to resist or expel it varies. A single poison, unless it’s an exceptionally deadly one, can be easily expelled by a skilled martial artist. But when two poisons mix, even a master finds it troublesome. With three or four, the situation becomes even more dire.

’…I have to take a risk.’

The master abandoned his defensive stance. Even if it meant exposing himself to a counterattack, he needed to end the fight quickly.

He lunged at Dang Mujin with a sword radiating lethal intent. Dang Mujin reflexively raised his sword to block, but his mind was too clouded to parry accurately.

Just as the master’s sword was about to pierce Dang Mujin’s throat, Pyo Chung leapt in front, intercepting the blow.

“Keep going!”

Though Pyo Chung was helping with the defense, Dang Mujin couldn’t afford to let go of his sword. He swung it again, shaking his left hand.

The master couldn’t help but be distracted. Blocking was one thing, but…

As Dang Mujin clenched his left hand, the needles that had been slicing through the air changed direction, flying towards the master. Inside him, three different poisons mingled.

“Ughhh—!”

Dang Mujin, half in a trance, swung his sword, threw needles, and manipulated the air. It felt as if his inner energy and the poisons were intertwining.

A martial artist grows through experience, and Dang Mujin was advancing at an astonishing pace. The problem was that his progress was too rapid.

His manipulation of inner energy and poison techniques was overly complex, pushing beyond his current capabilities.

His jaw trembled, as if every fluid in his body was boiling simultaneously.

Dang Mujin vaguely realized he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Yet, he didn’t succumb easily. Though the nature and form were different, he had once overcome a similar inner demon. His mind was far more resilient than that of an ordinary person.

At the same time, the techniques he had honed in the underground of Mount Ami, the White Lotus Divine Fist, and the Shadowless Step he learned at Shaolin resisted the mental assault.

Dang Mujin, lost in a trance, continued to swing his sword, shaking his left hand repeatedly. He lost count of how many times.

And then, at some point, he found himself in a world of pure white.

He was running madly.

In this entirely white world, the only thing that wasn’t white was a massive wall standing in the distance.

He didn’t know what the wall was, but driven by an inexplicable urge, he ran towards it with all his might and crashed into it. The wall didn’t budge.

He collided with it again and again.

The wall didn’t crumble. Dang Mujin knew it was too soon to bring down such a colossal barrier.

But he neither retreated nor gave up. After several more attempts, he leaned against the wall and lost consciousness.

On the cliff of Nogunsan, the rain poured down in torrents.

Dang Mujin stood there, drenched, unconscious.

In front of him stood the master of the Taeui Sword Sect, leaning on his sword like a cane.

Unlike Dang Mujin, the master hadn’t lost consciousness, but he couldn’t move.

Dozens of needles were still embedded in his back, neck, and arms, unable to be removed.

Inside him, countless poisons had intertwined, forming an unbreakable knot.

The master’s state was no different from an insect trapped in a spider’s web.

‘I thought he was a budding flower, but he turned out to be a venomous spider with the sharpest fangs.’

The master took a deep breath and let out a hollow laugh.

Pyo Chung, on his knees, coughed up blood a few times, his hands pressed against the ground.

In the final moments of the battle, he had almost single-handedly borne the brunt of the master’s attacks. His condition was far from good.

Yet, Pyo Chung staggered to his feet, sword in hand.

Raindrops danced off the silver blade.

He took a deep breath, then slowly drove the sword into the master’s heart.

The master’s breathing ceased, and his eyes lost their light.

After thirty years, it was all over. Something surged within Pyo Chung’s chest.

He let out a primal scream.

A scream for the brothers who had vanished over the cliff, for those who had died trapped in Nogunsan.