Episode 291: Faith

Hwahwa Nogae’s declaration of risking his life was no empty boast. He was prepared to harness the power of the Celestial Qi.

In the unpredictable world of martial arts, one truth remained unbroken: any warrior who used the Celestial Qi would inevitably die.

Even the most skilled martial artists, those hailed as the greatest under the heavens, could not escape death if they dared to wield the Celestial Qi.

Hwahwa Nogae was well aware of this. He was not naturally inclined to heroics and had never considered using the Celestial Qi.

Even twenty years ago, during the Great War of Righteousness and Evil, when his life hung by a thread three times, he refrained from touching the Celestial Qi. The difference between a life at risk and certain death was stark.

There was no shame in it. He wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Even if one resolved to pay the ultimate price, using the Celestial Qi was no simple task.

To wield it properly, one must be free of hesitation. Otherwise, it would only lead to a pointless death.

‘But now, I think I can do it.’

He saw the backs of the younger warriors, trusting him with their lives based solely on his word.

How could Hwahwa Nogae hold back in such a moment?

He recalled a lesson from his master.

“To be a hero, you don’t have to live like one every moment. If you can muster courage just a few times in your life, the world will call you a hero.”

Master, that time is now.

As Hwahwa Nogae pushed his internal energy to its limits, preparing to summon the Celestial Qi, a slender hand touched a vital point on his back, the Yaoyangguan.

The surging energy subsided.

‘Who could it be?’

He turned to see Shinseung, who coughed up blood but managed a faint smile.

“Hwahwa Nogae.”

“Yes.”

Despite the unexpected situation, Hwahwa Nogae responded respectfully.

Both were old men, but Shinseung was over a decade his senior, and their martial prowess differed even more.

“They say there’s an order to coming into this world, but not necessarily to leaving it. Still, if possible, it’s better to follow an order when leaving.”

Seeing Hwahwa Nogae’s confusion, Shinseung elaborated.

“Today is my turn. Step back.”

Shinseung took a deep breath, enduring the pain in his abdomen.

Hwahwa Nogae watched as Shinseung’s frail form seemed to expand with power. Though his body didn’t actually grow, the air around him began to stir.

Shinseung’s blood-soaked robe fluttered. Hwahwa Nogae stepped back, watching in awe.

‘Shinseung!’

Shinseung was the one to summon the Celestial Qi instead.

Despite his injuries, Shinseung’s power was likely to surpass Hwahwa Nogae’s, given his reputation as the foremost martial artist of the righteous sects.

Shinseung addressed his disciple, Manryeokseung.

“Chungwook.”

“Yes, Master.”

“For years, I’ve thought the new waves of the Yangtze would push out the old. But I’ve realized the old waves aren’t just there to be pushed aside.”

”···.”

“I’ve shown you the path I’ve walked. Now, I’ll show you the path I intended to take. Remember it well. One day, you’ll reach it.”

A sense of anticipation filled the air.

Even the fierce combatants paused to watch Shinseung.

Hyungong, Namgungmyeong, Honggeolgae, and even the Demon King and Gwangyeomra stopped in their tracks. Though their enemies were right before them, they couldn’t look away.

Shinseung, still bleeding from his mouth and abdomen, half-closed his eyes.

Then, in a voice surprisingly clear for an old man, he began to chant.

“Homage to the merciful Avalokiteshvara, who gathers all beings with a thousand hands and illuminates them with a thousand eyes.”

Standing still, Shinseung lifted his right leg, balancing precariously.

He continued his chant.

“In an instant, the hundred thousand samadhis are achieved. The body that holds the dharani is a beacon of light, and the mind that holds the dharani is a vessel of miracles.”

Without lowering his right leg, he lifted his left.

A person needs the ground to stand. Shinseung should have fallen.

But he didn’t. Instead, he floated in the air, sitting cross-legged.

The pale aura surrounding Shinseung condensed, then flowed into his nostrils with his breath.

Three faint lotus buds bloomed above his head.

It was not just impressive or magnificent; it was wondrous and strange.

The first to act was the Demon King.

He turned and fled.

But Shinseung did not pursue.

“I will save countless beings. I will end endless suffering. I will learn infinite teachings. I will achieve the supreme enlightenment.”

Gwangyeomra, having quickly assessed the situation, also began to flee. He and the Demon King ran side by side.

Shinseung slightly tilted his chin and raised his hands to chest level, palms facing the sky.

“I now take refuge in the Buddha.”

He released his cross-legged position and stood on the ground.

Though he appeared unstable, with blood still flowing from his wounds, the Demon King and Gwangyeomra did not stop running.

Shinseung’s voice reached the Demon King’s ears.

“Vast and perfect, the unobstructed great compassion.”

Avalokiteshvara possesses a vast and great compassion, free of obstacles.

The Demon King, also a former monk, recognized the familiar sutra. It was a common praise of Avalokiteshvara.

But the phrase “unobstructed” struck a chilling chord.

The distance between Shinseung and the Demon King was about a hundred paces.

Shinseung’s right leg moved half a step forward. His left knee bent slightly, supporting his upper body.

His right fist clenched tightly, assuming a basic stance.

Shinseung extended his right fist.

A nameless technique from Shinseung.

With a sound like thunder, the air before his fist exploded.

A force, similar yet distinct from the Demon King’s secret technique, surged across the hundred paces toward the two demonic warriors.

At that moment, Gwangyeomra pushed the Demon King aside. The Demon King’s eyes widened.

“You…!”

It was an unfair situation, but there was no time to protest. The Demon King still had a faint hope.

He employed his ultimate technique, the Secret Seal of the Esoteric Sect.

With knees bent, he firmly planted his feet and extended his palms toward Shinseung. It was a timely response.

‘He’s an old man with a hole in his belly. Even if he summons the Celestial Qi, it won’t be at full strength. My Secret Seal should be enough…!’

But as the image of Shinseung’s fist imprinted on the Demon King’s massive palms, his thoughts shifted.

’…If I’m lucky, I might survive.’

In the next instant, the Demon King heard the sound of bones breaking in his wrists, elbows, and shoulders.

Crack.

The sound of bones breaking inside his skin was chilling.

But lowering his arms would mean a broken neck and a collapsed chest, so he forced himself to hold on.

‘Just a little longer!’

The intense pressure quickly subsided. If things continued this way, he might survive with only broken arms.

Finally, as the pressure eased, the Demon King lifted his head.

He saw Shinseung, standing still. It was good news for the Demon King.

But he also saw Manryeokseung charging toward him. That was less welcome.

‘I need to escape…!’

But his legs wouldn’t move.

Manryeokseung’s massive fist slammed into the Demon King’s abdomen.

His consciousness faded.

Bloodface Wolf began his escape slightly later than the Demon King and Gwangyeomra.

Yet, he was in the best position.

Bloodface Wolf had pretended to sleep, creating an opportunity for Gwangyeomra’s ambush, so he had started the fight from the opposite side.

Initially, he wasn’t pleased with the arrangement, but Shinseung’s strange martial arts changed the situation.

Shinseung’s bizarre technique targeted the Demon King and Gwangyeomra, allowing Bloodface Wolf to quietly slip away. Life is full of unexpected turns.

’…Thanks to that, I survived.’

As Blood-Faced Wolf quietly made his way out of the forest, the face of that guy, Tang Mujin, flashed in his mind.

At first, he thought it was just some cocky kid biting off more than he could chew. But after exchanging a few moves, his opinion changed. Tang Mujin was far more dangerous than he had imagined.

Poisonous insects, a venom-laced sword, and even the subtle poison mixed into his breath. He’d never encountered someone who wielded poison in so many ways.

“How do you dodge poison that rides the wind?”

Just because Tang Mujin excelled in poison arts didn’t mean his swordsmanship was lacking. For his age, his skills with the sword were quite impressive. It was just that his poison arts were so advanced that they overshadowed his swordsmanship.

“He couldn’t block my sword, though.”

Blood-Faced Wolf felt a twinge of regret.

“If it had been a straightforward duel, I could’ve easily taken his head. But the situation wasn’t favorable, poison or not.”

He coughed up a bit of blood, clutching a tree for support. The dark, clotted blood soon gave way to a more normal crimson flow.

He wiped his mouth. Any ordinary poison would have ended here. But Tang Mujin’s poison was tenacious.

No matter how many times he expelled the poison, it kept surging back. He couldn’t even tell how many different poisons he was dealing with.

“Why is that guy mingling with the orthodox martial artists?”

Relying more on poison and hidden weapons than on sword or fist, his occasional swordplay was filled with malice and killing intent. His methods and the nature of his poisons were cunning.

Tang Mujin’s poison didn’t aim to kill instantly like an amateur’s. It spread slowly, like morning dew soaking the hem of your pants, gradually cornering its opponent.

Blood-Faced Wolf had met many unorthodox fighters, but few fought as insidiously as Tang Mujin.

Suddenly, he had a strong feeling that he would cross paths with Tang Mujin again soon. It wasn’t a prediction; it was a certainty.

“Should I go back and settle this now? No, that’s too hasty. I need to recover first, then circle around and wait for the right moment…”

Just then, a chilling instinct stopped him in his tracks.

“He’s here!”

As he leaped backward, a metal disc fell from the sky, embedding itself in the ground where he’d just stood.

“If I hadn’t been alert, it would’ve hit me square on the head.”

Two more discs flew through the trees, each on a different trajectory. One fell from above, while another shot up from ankle height to chest level. Blood-Faced Wolf dodged them, thinking.

“He can control up to three discs… Is he alone?”

He deflected all three discs but didn’t immediately leave the forest. It seemed Tang Mujin had come alone, so it was better to eliminate him before leaving.

It’s best to get rid of potential threats early. He also had a score to settle for his lost ear.

After a quick scan, he spotted Tang Mujin, who seemed to have lost track of him.

“Don’t rush. Approach carefully and finish him in one strike.”

Blood-Faced Wolf sharpened his senses. By focusing on the presence of the discs and honing his sight and hearing, he could avoid them.

He moved silently toward Tang Mujin. The forest was eerily quiet.

But then, he felt something strange underfoot. It wasn’t the sensation of being cut or struck fatally. It was the feeling of his toes brushing the ground, accompanied by a faint rustling sound.

”…Huh?”

It might not have seemed odd at first, but Blood-Faced Wolf was stealthily approaching Tang Mujin with heightened senses.

Avoiding the sound of leaves underfoot was basic. Yet, despite his focus, his foot dragged on the ground. Something was off.

“Could it be?”

He quickly ran his hands over his legs and found something unusual. A thin, sharp needle was embedded in his calf.

He pulled it out and rubbed the spot. The sensation was dull.

“A poisoned needle?”

Had Tang Mujin hidden another trick up his sleeve?

With stealth no longer an option, speed was his only ally.

Gritting his teeth, Blood-Faced Wolf charged at Tang Mujin. Tang Mujin’s hand moved, and the discs came flying at him again.

But Blood-Faced Wolf didn’t slow down.

There was no widespread poison this time, and no one to guard Tang Mujin’s back. A swift, clean strike to the neck would suffice. The difference in skill was clear.

He twisted his head to dodge the first disc, swung his arm to deflect the second with the back of his hand, and narrowly avoided the third aimed at his ankle.

Then he saw two faintly glinting needles flying toward him beyond the third disc. They were so thin they were barely visible.

He swung his sword, slicing through the needles.

“I’ve countered all his tricks!”

He thought, looking at Tang Mujin.

Then he noticed the strange cylinders in Tang Mujin’s hands.

They weren’t particularly large or threatening in shape, but that made them all the more suspicious. Blood-Faced Wolf’s brow furrowed.

”…What are those?”

But hesitating could bring reinforcements. As he charged, Tang Mujin’s thumbs moved.

Click, click—

With a soft sound, dozens of needles rained down on Blood-Faced Wolf.

He swung his sword to block them, but he couldn’t avoid them all.

It was too sudden, the distance too close, and there were too many needles. He blocked what he could with his sword, using his forearm to shield against the rest.

He felt the needles pierce his skin, the faint poison seeping in.

“At least it’s not a deadly poison.”

But retreating now would mean falling into Tang Mujin’s trap.

“I need to close the distance.”

He continued his charge. The cylinders in Tang Mujin’s hands still aimed at him.

Click, click.

More needles flew.

Now that he understood the weapon, he could respond better.

Blood-Faced Wolf leaped, dodging the needles with the skill of a master.

He saw Tang Mujin discard the cylinders.

“Whatever they were, they’re used up.”

The poison he’d absorbed so far was clouding his mind.

He steadied himself, predicting Tang Mujin’s next move.

“He’ll draw his sword. I’ve seen his moves. I’ll pretend to fall for it and strike…”

As expected, Tang Mujin drew his sword. Blood-Faced Wolf allowed a faint smile.

But that was his mistake.

Focused on Tang Mujin’s sword hand, he failed to notice the left hand’s fingers pointing to the ground.

Descend.

A fourth disc sliced through the branches, striking Blood-Faced Wolf’s crown.

The Ghost King awoke to a sharp pain in his abdomen. He vividly remembered the moments before he lost consciousness.

He had survived the final strike of a fierce battle, the memory of a powerful fist embedding itself in his stomach.

His insides felt like a mess, but by some divine grace, he was still alive.

“Merciful Bodhisattva.”

He invoked the Bodhisattva’s name, something he hadn’t done in a long time, as he opened his eyes.

But his heart sank when he saw Hyun Gong sitting before him.

Of course, it made sense. After collapsing in battle, he wouldn’t wake up alone.

Better to face Hyun Gong than the others who might have been there.

“If it’s just him…”

He tried to move his arms, but pain shot through him. The memory of his broken arms returned, darkening his expression.

“I need to survive.”

As he struggled to rise and flee, Hyun Gong spoke.

“Brother Gui, wait. There are people nearby; you can’t escape.”

He should have ignored the words and run, but something in Hyun Gong’s voice and the way he addressed him made him pause.

Hyun Gong continued.

“People say you can’t erase your sins with good deeds. But I think differently. While good deeds don’t erase past wrongs, they can cover them.”

”···.”

“Everyone wanted you dead. But I saw potential in your eyes. The eyes of someone who regrets their past and seeks redemption. You were once a monk, Brother Gui. You’re not evil to the core. You’ve just made mistakes.”

Hyungong’s story pierced straight into the depths of the Demon King’s heart.

Anyone who commits a crime, without exception, tends to justify their actions.

I had no choice. It was their fault. It’s unfair. It was just a mistake—these are the excuses they make.

Even those who have committed grave sins, like the Demon King, are no different.

The Demon King recalled the day he turned his back on Buddha, lost in the allure of women.

He had come to accept and let go of it all now, but back then, the regret was overwhelming.

It wasn’t because I was worthless. I had no choice. It was a mistake driven by youthful impulse. He remembered muttering to himself in the past.

Of course, the Demon King wasn’t foolish. He could sense the ulterior motives behind Hyungong’s words.

“What… what do you want from me? Aren’t you just planning to kill me anyway?”

“No, I hope you reflect and find a new path. Tell me the truth about this current conflict. Share what you know about what’s to come. I’m sure you know a lot, and you could save many lives. If you do, people might forgive you.”

A sweet promise, indeed. But the Demon King snapped back to reality. Hyungong’s words were too sweet.

If it were that easy to cover up his sins, he wouldn’t have fled to the demonic sect.

“Nonsense! I won’t be fooled! I killed the leaders of the Cheongseong and Jongnam sects. Even if I confess everything, all that awaits me is their vengeance!”

Hyungong remained seated, gazing at the Demon King. Their eyes met.

People say you can read each other’s hearts through the eyes, but in truth, it’s more about revealing one’s own heart in that moment.

The Demon King searched Hyungong’s eyes for his true feelings.

What he found was a deep, unending sorrow. Hyungong spoke with a voice tinged with emotion.

”…I know. That’s likely true.”

“Exactly. So stop this nonsense…”

“But sacrificing oneself to lead others to the light is the greatest virtue and the quickest path to enlightenment. I’m speaking to you not as a martial artist, but as a Taoist.”

Hyungong continued with fervor.

“Just as I am a Taoist, the martial artists of the Cheongseong and Jongnam sects are Taoists before they are warriors. They will understand that merits can somewhat cover faults. They will see that you, who at least wish to accumulate merit, are better than those who don’t.”

Hyungong’s words subtly included an assumption: ‘You’ve already decided to accumulate merit.’ But the Demon King didn’t catch on.

He mumbled in response.

“Merit… You’re too young to understand. Grudges aren’t such shallow emotions. They’d kill me on sight.”

“I’ll stop them. Even if it costs me my life. I can’t guarantee they’ll forgive you, but I’ll do everything to give them a chance to reconsider. Isn’t that enough?”

With a gentle touch, Hyungong took the Demon King’s hand.

His bones were shattered, so it should have been excruciating, but the Demon King felt no pain.

When was the last time someone held his hand? He couldn’t remember.

Hyungong whispered softly.

“Repent and return to the path of Buddha. Return to the compassionate embrace of Avalokiteshvara.”

The Demon King’s breath quickened. Such sweet whispers.

He shouted in defiance.

“Don’t tempt me! How can I believe such words? Why would you help your enemy? I won’t be deceived!”

Hyungong, unfazed, asked in return.

“Demon King, do you know my nickname?”

He shouldn’t have remembered the nickname of a righteous sect’s latecomer. He shouldn’t have.

But as he thought about it, the nickname seemed to surface. Whether he heard it at the communal sect, on Mount Giryeon, or during their fight, he wasn’t sure.

The Demon King stammered.

“Truth… Speaker?”

“That’s right. I never lie.”

Hyungong stood, looking down at the Demon King with a reassuring smile.

The sun shone brilliantly over Hyungong’s shoulder.

“Trust me.”

Those final words were unnecessary.

The Demon King already trusted Hyungong.