Chapter 71

Chapter 71
Baek So-cheon submerged himself within the waters of the Dragon Spring, steadily circulating his internal energy into a deep state of meditative focus. A delicate medicinal fragrance drifted from the open case holding the two roots of millennium snow ginseng gifted to him by the Alliance Lord.

Under ideal conditions, such extraordinary spirit herbs could each bestow six decades of internal cultivation once thoroughly absorbed. In his earlier attempt, Baek So-cheon had ingested a root and derived only twenty years—barely a third of its latent capacity. This endeavor, however, promised different results. His Immovable Wisdom King Heart Method had advanced to its fourth stage, reinforced further by the ambient energy of the Dragon Spring. He anticipated securing at least a few additional years beyond his previous yield.

The initial absorption reached its conclusion. From that single root of millennium snow ginseng, he harvested twenty-four years of pure inner power. The torrential vital energy melded seamlessly into his preexisting reserves, surpassing his estimates by four full years. Pleased with the progress, Baek So-cheon promptly consumed the remaining root. This second extraction proved even more fruitful, yielding twenty-five years—one year higher than the first.

Combined, the two herbs added forty-nine years of cultivation. Added to his baseline foundation of one hundred years, his internal reserves swelled to an astonishing total of one hundred and forty-nine years of inner power. Though thirty years short of the peak he once wielded in his former life, the caliber of his current energy possessed a far greater degree of refinement. In terms of true combat efficacy, he had effectively reclaimed his pinnacle condition.

In truth, his present state eclipsed his former heights. The absolute purity of his current internal force more than compensated for the thirty-year difference. Bolstered by supreme arts that stood peerless beneath the heavens in both external execution and internal foundation, he had utterly outstripped the warrior he once was.

Rising from the depths of the Dragon Spring, Baek So-cheon summoned his internal cultivation. A surge of potent heat emanated outward from his flesh, instantly vaporizing the remaining droplets of water. He lifted an outstretched hand, and his garments drifted through the air toward him; as he parted his arms, the silk shifted like a living entity, wrapping itself about his form. Reaching out once more, the Ghost Shadow Sword leapt cleanly from its scabbard and planted itself firmly within his grip.

Baek So-cheon channeled his inner power to its peak, flooding the blade of the Ghost Shadow Sword. The resonant vibration of the steel deepened, shifting into a piercing, ghastly wail that reverberated against the stone enclosure. That sound alone confirmed the reality of his growth: he was significantly mightier than before.

Ringing laughter burst from him, echoing through the wide expanse of the Heavenly Dragon Secret Chamber. He was finally ready to confront Yeom Hwa-sin on even ground. Facing that adversary in his prior state had seemed manageable, especially knowing the man harbored inward deceit. Yet if Yeom Hwa-sin had indeed attained the Diamond Indestructible Body, lingering uncertainties remained.

The definitive path to triumph lay in achieving complete mastery over the Thousand-Handed Asura God Sword. Achieving Great Success before the thaw of spring seemed an insurmountable hurdle, even for a talent like Baek So-cheon. Yet no alternatives presented themselves. His primary advantage rested on the sword technique consisting of merely seven forms. Resolving to pour every ounce of his being into the effort, he turned and departed the Heavenly Dragon Secret Chamber.

The hour had arrived for rigorous, uninterrupted practice. He required a secluded terrain where he could release his full destructive might far from prying eyes. Packing simple provisions into a travel satchel, he journeyed toward the hidden training ground he had frequented during his days in the Iron Sword Unit—a secluded precipice unknown to the rest of the world.

The location remained inaccessible to ordinary martial artists, demanding navigation through obscure mountain trails and the scaling of sheer, dizzying bluffs. Baek So-cheon traversed the terrain with effortless grace, bounding across the chasms. Parting the biting mountain gales that tore through the ravines, he relished the undeniable sensation of his restored strength. Pushing through a dense forest, he emerged into a broad, sheltered basin encircled by soaring rock faces—a sanctuary vast enough to permit unrestricted solo training.

Taking in the sight of the preserved clearing, a bright smile crossed his face, reminiscent of greeting an old companion. His demanding regimen began immediately. He structured his hours methodically: opening with the Immovable Wisdom King Heart Method, progressing to the Heavenly Thunder Nine Fists, and dedicating all remaining time to the Thousand-Handed Asura God Sword.

This phase of training differed completely from his past attempts. Now, he could channel genuine internal cultivation into both the Heavenly Thunder Nine Fists and the Thousand-Handed Asura God Sword without restraint. After steadying his mind through seated cultivation, he limbered his body with the nine fist techniques. Drawing the Ghost Shadow Sword, he etched the corresponding sword mnemonics deep within his consciousness. He took to the air with a single bound, unleashing his blade in mid-descent.

First Form: Heavenly Authority.

Descending like divine wrath in the shape of lightning, seven razor-thin trajectories of sword light crashed violently into the ground. A succession of sharp impacts fractured the earth. The sheer velocity of the assault defied conventional defense; the execution was so rapid that even the practitioner found himself unsettled by the prospect of facing it. Could he have intercepted such a maneuver himself? As the attacker, he harbored serious doubts. Neither his past sword arts nor the introductory three techniques of the Thousand-Handed Asura God Sword compared to this.

Every newly acquired movement sent a thrill through his veins. Progress was grueling, yet the sheer authority granted by the art made every ounce of labor worthwhile. Thus, Baek So-cheon immersed himself entirely in his martial pursuit.

Ten days slipped away in the secluded gorge.

A shrill metallic whistle cut the silence as the Ghost Shadow Sword spun about his figure, trailing a tempest of razor-sharp wind. Its stabbing, cleaving, and chopping paths curved into an arc for the very first time.

Fifth Form: Heavenly Circle.

Exceeding even the swiftness of the initial form, the sword cleaved the atmosphere in a blinding, continuous vortex. Within five days he had grasped the first form without flaw; now, ten days further into his secluded retreat, he had brought the fifth form under complete command. He manifested the fifth technique cleanly, finishing its sequence before the momentum of the first could have faded. To an untrained observer, it would have seemed as though more than thirty blinding trails of sword qi flashed across the air and dissipated in the exact same heartbeat.

Drilling the first and fifth forms imparted a profound realization. In his fixation on recovering lost cultivation, he had dramatically underestimated the metamorphosis of his skeletal structure. His rapid mastery through the fifth technique was made possible because his internal power now raced through his meridians with instantaneous fluidity. His remodeled physical vessel had become uniquely attuned to the most elite swift-sword disciplines.

The deeper his training went, the more thoroughly captivated he became by this swiftness. His physical actions felt increasingly rapid, causing the surrounding world to appear sluggish by comparison. Baek So-cheon felt his pulse quicken—a mixture of exhilaration born from his breakthroughs and a quiet gravity toward the trials that awaited him.

Navigating the art up to the fifth form had proven swift, yet the sixth form presented an immediate, insurmountable impasse: the manual offered no guidance on channeling the internal power or executing the physical form. It stood before him like an absolute decree warning mortality itself to proceed no further.

Yet Baek So-cheon refused to view this obstacle as an adversary. Instead, he treated it as a necessary threshold. Both the sixth and seventh forms seemed to demand a warrior capable of stepping beyond mortal limits. Determining that he would subdue the art entirely, he resolved to turn the barrier into a stepping stone toward the subsequent realm.

—

“The air is bitter. Head inside,” Im Choong called out to his son.

Chan paused his forms in the courtyard. “Just half a shichen longer, Father, then I will rest.”

Recently, the boy had thrown himself into martial training with tireless devotion. Whenever an opportunity presented itself, Im Choong requested Beon Saeng to instruct the child. Guiding one’s own kin was a delicate task, and Beon Saeng possessed an aptitude and refinement that greatly surpassed his own. Baek So-cheon had also provided instruction on the same occasion, though the disparity between their skills was vast.

Im Choong felt a persistent twinge of guilt toward Beon Saeng for imposing such burdens, yet a father’s desire for his child’s future took precedence. Fortunately, Beon Saeng offered his guidance with unreserved cheerfulness, leaving Im Choong profoundly appreciative.

“Father, the cold is sharp. You should go warm yourself indoors,” Chan urged.

“I will remain a bit longer. Keep your attention on your forms.”

“Understood, Father.”

Observing the rapid growth of his son stirred a complex tangle of emotions in Im Choong’s chest—deep pride mingled with apprehension regarding the perils of surviving in the martial world. His wife, Ju-ssi, consistently counseled him to place faith in the boy’s fortune, maintaining a steady, uplifting perspective. Though he had intended to step away, Im Choong found himself lingering until Chan concluded his exercises.

“You performed well,” the father praised. “Is it truly your wish to join the Murim Alliance?”

“It is. As soon as my abilities are sufficient, I intend to challenge the selection trial.”

“Do you not think it somewhat early?”

“Having determined my path, taking the step sooner will do no harm.”

The youth spoke with an earnest maturity that exceeded his years. Inwardly, however, Im Choong regarded the aspiration as premature; even if the boy demonstrated sufficient skill, he favored waiting until Chan reached full adulthood.

“Go take your rest,” he instructed gently.

“Yes, Father.”

Once Chan had vanished inside, Im Choong stayed behind in the quiet yard, casting his eyes toward the sky. The warmth of autumn seemed to have slipped away only yesterday, yet winter had already arrived in full force.

“Where could Brother be spending his days?” he murmured, realizing more than a month had elapsed since he last saw Baek So-cheon.

A familiar voice answered from directly behind him. “Matters required my attention.”

Startled, Im Choong spun around to discover Baek So-cheon standing quietly within the yard.

“Brother? How long have you been standing there?”

“Only just arrived.”

In truth, he had been present for a considerable time, observing quietly from the shadows as Im Choong kept watch over Chan’s practice. Witnessing the simple harmony between parent and child brought a soothing clarity to his spirit, akin to a thorough cleansing. To the consuming obsession with strength burning within his mind, the scene offered a quiet reminder: to halt, breathe, and reflect upon the true purpose behind his pursuit of power.

Martial arts, he mused, carried a distinct resemblance to wealth. Possessing an abundance of it provided safety and comfort, yet it held no inherent guarantee of joy. Yeom Hwa-sin stood as living testament to that reality, and he himself was not entirely distinct. If someone were to demand whether he was truly content, he doubted he could provide an immediate affirmative.

“What could I have possibly achieved?” Im Choong remarked softly.

“I speak no falsehoods,” Baek So-cheon replied, looking directly into his companion’s eyes. Though they had walked the same path for less than a year, Im Choong understood the weight and sincerity behind those words. Certain connections required decades to mature, while others struck straight to the heart in mere moments.

“Your high regard means a great deal to me,” Im Choong murmured.

“Do not twist my meaning to suggest you must redouble your toil.”

“Pardon?”

“The reality is quite the opposite,” Baek So-cheon said quietly. “Do not let labor consume the entirety of your days. Reflecting on my own past, my days were spent solely amidst bloodshed and struggle. Though I hold no regrets, I would never choose to walk that road a second time. Do not allow your existence to become nothing more than obligation.”

“I hear you, Brother.”

At that very moment, a soft touch settled upon the crown of Baek So-cheon’s head. Both men directed their gazes upward toward the gray canopy.

“Look, the snow has started,” Im Choong whispered.

Pale flakes drifted downward in gentle, spinning descents, marking the arrival of the season’s opening snowfall. Im Choong watched the descending white with quiet wonder.

“The first snow of winter!”

Turning his head a heartbeat later, he asked, “Do you find pleasure in the snow, Brother? Brother? Brother!”

The courtyard stood empty. Baek So-cheon had vanished without a trace.

“What pressing matter drove him to depart without so much as a parting word?” Im Choong muttered, shaking his head. He turned toward the residence, calling out with a raised voice.

“Chan! Come see, the snow is falling! The first snow has arrived!”