Episode 210: Wuchang

Three days later, the group watched as Jung Taeryeong stepped onto the martial arts stage.

“Is the treatment all done?”

“I’ve fixed the twisted energy flow, but it’ll take a while for the leg wound to fully heal.”

Issues like fluctuating fevers or nausea can be treated by a skilled physician. However, mending broken bones or encouraging new flesh to grow is beyond their capabilities. At best, they can apply plenty of healing salves and ensure the wound doesn’t fester.

“At least it won’t get worse.”

“That’s a relief in itself.”

There are two main ways a warrior with a severe wound might die. First, if the injury is too deep, they die on the spot. Second, if the wound festers over time, leading to a fever that eventually kills them. The latter was so common that life-and-death duels often ended with both the loser and the winner dead. In that sense, Tang Mujin and his companions considered themselves incredibly lucky. As long as they didn’t die immediately from a severed arm or a slashed side, they could survive.

At that moment, Jung Taeryeong and his opponent stepped onto the stage. Every time his left leg touched the ground, his balance wavered slightly. He could manage a slow walk, but swift movements were out of the question.

Jung Taeryeong’s opponent was a man named Han Gyun. Unlike his previous opponent, Song Jihak, Han Gyun didn’t wield a spear, which was fortunate. However, he had eight daggers strapped to his waist, clearly intending to keep his distance and exploit Jung Taeryeong’s impaired leg.

Han Gyun asked Jung Taeryeong, “Your leg doesn’t seem right. Are you sure you don’t want to forfeit?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t blame me if things go wrong.”

“Of course not.”

With that, the announcer signaled the start of the duel and quickly left the stage. Jung Taeryeong and Han Gyun eyed each other warily, slowly closing the distance. It seemed Han Gyun wasn’t planning to throw his daggers right away.

Watching the duel, Hyun Gong commented, “Left-handed swordplay.”

“Indeed.”

Left-handed swordplay, or “left-hand sword,” might seem like a minor difference, but it’s surprisingly tricky to deal with. The timing of the moves, the distance, and the time it takes for the sword to reach its target—all are slightly different from right-handed swordplay, keeping opponents on edge. Most martial arts are designed to counter right-handed opponents, making left-handed swordplay particularly challenging.

The advantages of left-handed swordplay were so significant that some martial artists, even those naturally right-handed, forced themselves to learn it.

Jung Taeryeong held his sword upright in front of him, waiting for Han Gyun to approach. Han Gyun advanced, aiming his sword at Jung Taeryeong’s shoulder.

“Hup!”

At first glance, it seemed like a simple probing attack, but it was actually meant to disrupt Jung Taeryeong’s balance and set up the next move. Jung Taeryeong didn’t just block Han Gyun’s sword; he deflected it and prevented any follow-up attacks. His defense was so perfect and solid that he didn’t even need to move his legs.

After three quick exchanges, Namgung Myung expressed his admiration. “Oh, not bad.”

“Of course. Look who taught him.”

Hyun Gong replied with a satisfied tone. Jung Taeryeong had always been trained in defensive swordplay, and over the past three days, he had been learning from Hyun Gong, a master of defense. Improvement was inevitable.

Jung Taeryeong skillfully parried Han Gyun’s attacks, looking for an opportunity to counter. However, without the ability to move swiftly, overpowering his opponent seemed unlikely. A tense standoff ensued between Jung Taeryeong, who couldn’t attack, and Han Gyun, who couldn’t break through.

Tang Mujin, observing Jung Taeryeong’s sturdy defense, was reminded of the head of the Wudang Sect, Youngbo Jin-in.

“Was Youngbo Jin-in like that in his youth?”

The answer came not from Hyun Gong, but from Namgung Myung.

“Maybe as a child, but not in his youth.”

“Why?”

“At Jung Taeryeong’s age, Youngbo Jin-in was already a Six Master.”

“What?”

Tang Mujin’s head snapped to the side. Namgung Myung explained calmly, “Youngbo Jin-in surpassed the peak at eighteen and became a Six Master before he turned thirty.”

“He reached the pinnacle from the peak in just over a decade?”

“Why not? Yu Daehyup reached the pinnacle in a similar timeframe, didn’t he?”

“Yu Daehyup is in his late thirties, though. Reaching the pinnacle in your late twenties seems a bit much.”

“We’re not even sure if it was his late twenties. That’s just when my father confirmed Youngbo Jin-in had reached the pinnacle.”

All eyes turned to Hyun Gong. He was the only one who might know when Youngbo Jin-in had truly surpassed the pinnacle.

Hyun Gong chuckled. “The head never said it himself, but the elders mentioned that Youngbo Jin-in broke through the pinnacle around twenty-six.”

Namgung Myung was twenty-six, and Hyun Gong was twenty-seven. Was it really possible to surpass the pinnacle at twenty-six?

“Does that even make sense?”

“Think about it. With such overwhelming talent, it’s no wonder Youngbo Jin-in, who can’t even walk, became the head of the Wudang Sect. He’s renowned for his exceptional talent among the Six Masters.”

Hyun Gong spoke nonchalantly, but his pride in the Wudang Sect and Youngbo Jin-in was evident in his voice.

“Still, it seems too fast.”

“The transition from peak to pinnacle is purely about enlightenment, so it’s hard to predict how long it will take. Take the Sword King of the Jeonbaek family, for instance. He surpassed the peak in his forties but reached the pinnacle the following year.”

Hong Geolgae’s ears perked up at the conversation. Did this mean he could become a pinnacle master next year? He indulged in a pleasant daydream of surpassing the pinnacle first and teasing his friends.

Namgung Myung continued, “Anyway, when I met Youngbo Jin-in last time, I had this thought.”

“What thought?”

“If Youngbo Jin-in’s martial prowess grows even more, maybe he’ll undergo a transformation like in the legends. If the Three Treasures Supreme gains a healthy leg, wouldn’t he just become the Supreme?”

Tang Mujin waved his hand dismissively. “That’s nonsense. Transformation is a legendary realm. How can martial prowess give someone a new body?”

“I used to think that too. But after seeing Hwayeon Shin-ni, I don’t think transformation is impossible. If rejuvenation is possible, why not transformation?”

Indeed, both transformation and rejuvenation defy common sense. Gaining a new body is essentially the same in both cases.

While the group chatted, droplets of blood began to dot the stage. Han Gyun, trying too hard to break through Jung Taeryeong’s defense, had ended up with a minor wound himself.

Seemingly resolved, Han Gyun stepped back and addressed Jung Taeryeong. “Don’t take it personally.”

“You wielded your sword like a proper swordsman until now. Are you finally abandoning your pride to rely on cheap tricks?”

“Such stubbornness is outdated. Do you think demons or dark warriors will fight fair?”

Han Gyun’s ears turned red, perhaps embarrassed by his own words. Regardless, he had made up his mind. He stepped back and threw two daggers. He didn’t look like someone throwing daggers for the first time.

Jung Taeryeong deflected one dagger with his sword, but the other grazed his calf. Under normal circumstances, he could have dodged it, but his unstable leg movement made it impossible.

“Ooh!”

“Cheater!”

The crowd erupted in shouts. Some cheered for Han Gyun, who seemed to have the upper hand, but most supported Jung Taeryeong, who was clearly at a disadvantage. People naturally root for the underdog and those who appear honorable.

However, Jung Taeryeong remained calm, reaching into his robe to pull out a small cylinder. It was dark and small enough to fit in a woman’s hand.

Han Gyun hesitated, stepping back a few paces. ‘It’s not a blade. What kind of cylinder is that? Judging by its shape, it looks like it contains poison… He talks about pride, but when cornered, he resorts to the same tactics.’

Poison can’t be blocked with a sword, but it can be avoided by keeping a safe distance and moving cautiously. The poison used in martial arts tournaments isn’t lethal, as killing an opponent results in disqualification.

‘He can only use it once.’

Han Gyun cautiously moved to the edge of the stage. But contrary to his expectations, Jung Taeryeong assumed a peculiar stance, raising the cylinder beside his head, its end pointed at Han Gyun. It was clearly not a stance for spraying poison or throwing an object.

‘What on earth is that thing?’

Jung Taeryeong spoke up. “Hey, Han Daehyup.”

“What do you want?”

“You were the one who ran without crossing swords.”

Hankyun suddenly felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. There was something in Jung Taeryeong’s voice—an emotion that went beyond mere confidence. It was a strange excitement, as if he had been waiting for this very moment.

“What are you planning to do?” Hankyun asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

Jung Taeryeong didn’t answer. Instead, he flashed a sly smile.

He didn’t understand the inner workings of the Rainstorm Needle Device, nor did he have the ability to comprehend it. But he knew exactly what would happen when he pressed that button.

With a deliberate motion, Jung Taeryeong’s thumb pressed down on the small protrusion at the back of the device.

Click.

Through his thumb and palm, he felt something inside the device spring to life and spin.

In the very next instant, Hankyun sensed something hurtling toward him at lightning speed. To be more precise, it wasn’t that he felt it coming—it had already passed by him before he could even react.

All that remained was a faint tremor in the air, brushing against the fine hairs by his ear.

‘What was that just now?’

Hankyun’s heart pounded wildly in his chest. Whatever it was, it had nearly hit him. But by some stroke of luck, it had missed. His grip tightened around the dagger in his hand.

‘At least I dodged it. Heaven must be on my side!’

Thinking it was his turn now, Hankyun raised his dagger. But as he did, he caught sight of something strange. Jung Taeryeong’s right hand was still by his head, holding the same ominous device.

Hankyun couldn’t make sense of it.

If you shoot an arrow, you need to nock another to shoot again. If you throw a dagger, you need to grab a new one to throw the next. If you toss a stone, you have to pick up another to throw again.

That’s common sense, a truth everyone agrees on.

Until someone like Dan Seolyeong defies that logic.

The biggest difference between the Rainstorm Needle Device and the Heavenly Needle Tube is the number of times they can fire. The Heavenly Needle Tube releases all its needles at once, but the Rainstorm Needle Device can fire thirty needles in three separate volleys.

Of course, Hankyun had no way of knowing whether it was three times or ten.

Jung Taeryeong’s thumb moved again, casually.

Click.

Hankyun, not even sure what he was dodging, threw himself to the ground, rolling across the stage with all his might.

‘Something just flew past again!’

Despite the warm weather, goosebumps prickled up Hankyun’s back and arms. He quickly turned his head to look at Jung Taeryeong.

‘This time, it must be over, right?’

But Jung Taeryeong was still standing there, watching him with that same faint smile.

Once more, Jung Taeryeong’s thumb moved.

Click.

Before Hankyun could get back on his feet, he felt a sharp sting in his calf. Thankfully, the pain wasn’t severe.

‘A needle?’

Five slender needles, as thin as animal hair, were embedded in his leg. As he hurried to pull them out, he felt a venomous sensation creeping through his limb.

‘Poison? I can withstand this much—’

That was as far as Hankyun got before he lost consciousness and collapsed.

Dang Mujin watched the scene unfold on the stage with satisfaction.

‘If Dan Seolyeong had seen this, he would have been pleased. It’s a shame he missed it.’

Of course, Dang Mujin was the only one maintaining such a calm demeanor.

Even his companions couldn’t hide their shock.

They knew the Rainstorm Needle Device fired needles, and they knew those needles were coated with deadly poison. But they hadn’t realized just how fast they could be.

And for those who hadn’t even known of the device’s existence, the reaction was even more intense.

Silence enveloped the area around the stage.

No one spoke. Despite the hundreds gathered, you could hear the person next to you breathing.

People couldn’t comprehend what they had just witnessed.

If Jung Taeryeong had thrown a vial of poison or hurled something sharp to draw blood, they might have understood what had happened.

But all he had done was hold a small device and twitch his thumb a couple of times. And with that, the match was over.

It was beyond the realm of their understanding.

Reactions were polarized.

“Eek!”

Some, overwhelmed by the incomprehensible situation, screamed in fear and fled.

But the majority clambered onto the stage, desperate to understand what had transpired. In an instant, the area became a chaotic throng.

“What happened? What was that?”

“Don’t push!”

Hyeongong observed the chaos and spoke.

“Mujin.”

“Yeah?”

“I think next year’s martial arts tournament in the capital will ban hidden weapons.”

No one disagreed with that sentiment.