-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Nine Swords of Dugu
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The moment he opened his eyes, Mujin forced his trembling body to rise.
His arms and legs were shaking so violently that it was difficult to even move properly.
He had pushed his body to its limits before, but never had the muscle soreness been this severe, his energy so depleted.
"Is this too much?"
The pain screaming from every muscle in his body was something Mujin had never experienced in either his past or present life.
"It won't kill me."
After a moment of looking down at his body, he finally headed outside.
Once again, Mujin tied the sword to his hand and began practicing the sword forms.
He continued to train, fainting three or four times a day. After another ten days of this, he was finally able to complete the forms without collapsing.
Only then did he increase the weight of the sword.
And with just fifteen days left until the duel, he could wield a 110-geun sword.
Though it had been a short time, his body was already completely different.
His once fine, scholar-like hands had become rough, and his forearms were now ripped with defined muscle, the arms of a true warrior.
His back and shoulders had broadened so much that his entire physique had changed, making him look like a different person.
As Masok was rushing from the kitchen with a wooden保温 container of boiled meat, Elder Jo blocked his path.
"Elder."
"Is he still at it?"
Having heard that the young master was holed up in his quarters, flailing around with a heavy iron sword too unwieldy to use under the guise of training, Elder Jo was deeply worried.
The duel with the second son of the Cheonghwa Merchant Guild was now only fifteen days away.
Elder Jo wished Mujin would die from his madness and seizures rather than meet a brutal end in a duel.
"Yes. He has become a completely different person. At first, he kept collapsing, and I was terribly worried, but now there's no sign of that. It seems the divine energy treatment he received was truly effective."
"..."
Since the seizures did seem to have stopped, Elder Jo didn't press the matter.
However, he was skeptical about the divine energy treatment.
'Even for the White Immortal of Wudang, it's impossible to see improvement after just one treatment.'
He had only allowed the man into the family estate because the general manager, desperate to grasp at straws, had insisted. But Elder Jo had found the man, who was said to be the last practitioner of Wudang's Daoist arts, highly suspicious.
"You may go."
"Yes, sir."
Elder Jo shook his head as he watched Masok bow respectfully and run toward Mujin's quarters.
"..."
*Fwoosh!*
The moment he opened the door, Masok's eyes widened at the sight of Mujin swinging the 110-geun iron sword downward.
It was unbelievable that he was wielding such a heavy sword with one hand.
"Hah."
*Whoooosh.*
A moment later, a heavy gust of wind from the sword swept past Masok, slamming the door he had just opened.
*Bang!*
Startled by the sound of the door shutting, Masok finally snapped back to his senses.
*Clang!*
Planting the sword on the ground, Mujin stopped his training and looked at Masok.
"How many times do I have to tell you? If you spy on a warrior's training like that, you'll lose your head."
"No need to be so stingy, is there? It's already noon. You're the one who said you need to eat meat four times a day, on time."
Now as thick-skinned as a frog, Masok walked into the quarters with the insulated container.
"Eat before it gets cold. I brought boiled back meat today."
Following him inside, Mujin watched as Masok placed enough meat and stir-fried bok choy to feed three men on a small table.
"What about the rice?"
"Right here."
As Masok set down a bowl of white rice, Mujin picked up his chopsticks and sat down.
"Young Master."
"What is it?"
Mujin replied nonchalantly, his focus on the meat.
"Where on earth did you learn such a sword art?"
"Mmph. What does it matter where? As long as I can beat that thief, that's all that counts."
"It's just so strange. A person who knew nothing about martial arts suddenly takes down the guards with a single chopstick, and now you're mastering a terrifying sword art."
*Gulp.*
Mujin swallowed the meat he had stuffed in his mouth and looked at Masok.
"I've told you once, so I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm not Hwa Mujin, the eldest son of this family. I told you before, didn't I? My true identity is the Divine…"
"Aaaah! That's enough! I get it, so please don't ever say that again. I won't ask any more questions from now on. In return, you must never say such blasphemous things again."
With a disappointed look, Mujin watched Masok's back as he left the room.
"Tch. It would be nice if at least one person believed me."
After muttering to himself, Mujin continued his meal.
Then, he resumed his training.
Late that night, past midnight, Mujin was on one knee, barely supporting himself with his sword. He shook his head.
"Haa… haa… Is ten times a day my limit?"
No matter how hard he tried to push past it, repeating the sword forms ten times was his current limit.
His body felt as if all its energy had been sucked out, making it impossible to even lift a finger. He couldn't force himself to go on, even if he wanted to.
'Six days left.'
The day of the duel was now a mere six days away.
The next day, Mujin once again completed his ten repetitions of the sword forms.
To be precise, it was when he had completed his one hundredth training session with the 110-geun sword.
"Huk… Huk… This is!"
As the sword forms became second nature, a breathing method naturally began to embed itself in his body.
During his 100th practice session following that breathing pattern, the energy drawn in through his breath began to swirl throughout his body, gathering toward his dantian.
'Dynamic Ki Cultivation.'
Unlike typical ki cultivation, where one sits still in meditation to focus and circulate unstable energy, this was a method of building internal energy through movement.
Most martial artists tended to look down on dynamic cultivation as the lowest form of breathing exercise.
Mujin had been no different.
He had always asserted that to reach higher realms, deep study of internal arts was essential, and such study was impossible while moving and sweating.
But what was happening in his body now was completely shattering his long-held beliefs.
Ki circulation, the act of circulating internal energy through the meridians to increase one's power, was known as the Lesser and Greater Heavenly Circulations.
This practice was always done in a perfectly safe place or with a trusted guardian standing watch, because the slightest shock could disrupt the flow of ki, which would be fatal to the practitioner.
That was how sensitive ki was.
Yet, here he was, swinging a sword and moving his body vigorously, and his internal energy was beginning its Lesser Heavenly Circulation, rapidly forming his dantian. Mujin couldn't help but be astonished.
'What in the world…?'
The dynamic cultivation he had heard about in tales was nothing like this.
It was supposed to be a slow, frustrating, low-class martial art from which one couldn't expect significant development of their ki channels.
The Nine Swords of Dugu was effortlessly shattering his preconceptions.
'This isn't even a precise breathing method…'
He had no oral formula, not even a small clue about the proper breathing technique. He was simply in the process of finding a more comfortable breath that the sword forms seemed to guide him toward.
Despite that, a massive amount of energy was flocking to his dantian.
"In-hale. Ex-hale. In-hale."
As he followed the rhythm of his breath led by the sword forms, his ragged breathing gradually stabilized, and vitality began to fill his entire body.
His body was becoming incomparably more stable than before, when completing the forms just once would drain him of all his strength.
Naturally, his sword began to gather a more potent energy, and the forms grew sharper.
His dantian was already complete, and by the time he executed the final form, a sharp aura enveloped the blunt edge of the sword.
*Shhh-hak!*
*Ruuuumble!*
As he performed the final form and swung the sword down, the old wall couldn't withstand the sharp sword wind and collapsed.
"Young Master!!"
Startled by the sudden commotion, Masok, who had been waiting outside the door, rushed in.
"Wh-what is this…?"
He saw the collapsed wall and Mujin, who was sweating but not even breathing heavily.
"What… what in the world happened?"
"It's too small."
"Pardon?"
"I said this courtyard is now too small for my training. From now on, I'll have to use the training grounds."
At Mujin's words, Masok, not understanding their meaning, simply nodded with a dazed expression.
"Let's eat."
With that, Mujin put on the upper garment he had taken off and went into his quarters.
Masok glanced at the collapsed wall for a moment before quickly running to fetch the food.
As Mujin began to eat, Masok couldn't stay still, fidgeting as if he were itching to speak.
"What is it?"
"What do you mean? I haven't said a word."
"Your body is screaming that you want to talk. Either keep your mouth shut or still your body."
At Mujin's words, Masok, who had been shaking his leg, could no longer hold back.
"I know I promised not to ask you any more questions, Young Master, but I'm so curious I can hardly stand it."
"Curious about what?"
"If… if my asking makes you say strange things and… and you decide to leave this family, I'll throw myself down a well and die. You're not thinking of leaving, are you?"
Mujin understood Masok's fear perfectly.
It wasn't just that Masok was afraid of others hearing him claim to be the Divine Demon.
Seeing him change into a completely different person after his seizures stopped and his memory was lost, Masok was afraid that one day he might just disappear.
Mujin put down his chopsticks and looked at Masok for a moment.
He was not unaware of how the servant had been treating him.
Besides, he held no lingering attachments to his past life.
He had killed everyone he needed to kill, completing his revenge.
He had finished everything he had resolved to do on the day she died.
He considered it a good life, having lived without restraint as a warrior.
"I have no intention of leaving this family… at least, not until it becomes the greatest martial family in Sichuan."
'Hwa Mujin, this is the price for the new life you gave me. Your soul, which lived such a tragic and unfortunate life, should be satisfied with that, right? Even if I leave, I'll make this failing house the greatest martial family in Sichuan first.'
He spoke to the soul of the real Mujin, which might still be lingering in the netherworld.
For the Divine Demon, Jeongcheon, a word once spoken or a decision once made was something he would uphold even in death.
Masok's eyes welled with tears as he nodded.
The greatest martial family in Sichuan.
Of course, Masok dreamed of such a day, but he believed that the day the crumbling Yeomhwa Family would rise so high would not come in his lifetime.
Therefore, to him, it sounded as if Mujin was promising to never leave the family.
As long as the Tang Clan, one of the Five Great Families of the world, resided in Sichuan, the Yeomhwa Family could never become the greatest.
'Five years should be enough, right?'
'I will serve you for the rest of my life.'
Thus, the two men sat, each with entirely different thoughts.