Chapter 154

The Sword Saint Has Turned White-Haired

The name of the palm technique the Demon Child unleashed was the First Palm of Austerity.

It had never been pierced before.

The Demon Child’s expression twisted as he thrust his bare hand toward the sword energy that had ruthlessly pierced through the First Gate of Asceticism. Of course, his hand was already wrapped in surging ki.

CRASH!

The Demon Child was flung into the Bamboo Sea, and the sword itself couldn’t possibly remain unscathed.

Wrapped in the sword’s intent currents, he absorbed the Agony First Layer before being hurled into the mountainside and crashing down.

Both men shot away like rays of light, landing far apart. Where each had crashed, a circular shockwave swept out. They had channeled the impact absorbed by their bodies outward, like releasing it through protective energy.

A brief silence flowed.

The two appeared as if they had just set out on a mountain hike and approached each other.

How far had they flown? Their mountain trek to find each other continued for a moment.

In the meantime, they caught their breath and gauged the intensity of the shock they’d felt at the first encounter.

How far could they endure?

No matter how much they thought about it, they realized neither could defeat the other without injury.

The hike was quite long, yet they had little time to think.

Because the other was a source of deepening concern.

Before they knew it, the two stood facing each other once more at the very place where they had first clashed.

The sword spirit launched the first attack, and the sword demon, dodging the blows with a nod as if gauging the sword technique’s speed, observed the sword spirit’s footwork, breathing, and sword style while searching for an opening.

Seeing the sorcerer’s apprentice so blatantly studying his sword technique…

…he added speed to his thrusts and slashes with a stony expression.

Without any flashy moves, there were no gaps in his swordplay.

For the man called the Sword Saint would never falter or lose his way on the simplest of sword paths.

The sword moved like a flash of light, instantly piercing holes through the Demon Cultivator’s robes.

Three holes in the chest area.

The hem near the waist was slashed.

The sleeves were slashed by the sword once more.

Even as his clothes were pierced and slashed, the young sorcerer dodged while keeping his eyes fixed on the sword’s blade.

For that swift blade had yet to touch his flesh.

The two figures darted about the slopes of Daebyeol Mountain like swift squirrels, chasing and being chased.

The retreating demon child backed up, using a large tree as cover. He seized the incoming sword with his index and middle fingers in an instant, channeled his inner energy into it, and flung it away.

The long sword bent, tracing a wide curve in an instant…

The swordsman’s counter was even faster. He released his sword once, then seized it again at the point where it curved upward, precisely parrying the surging attack of the magic-wielding monk with a left-to-right strike.

Clang!

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Cl

As shockwaves erupted from their palms, engulfing both combatants.

The whirlwind imprisoning them swirled and grew larger, sweeping up trees and earth from the surrounding area and hurling them away.

The skin on the swordsman and the magic disciple’s faces was blown back as if they were facing a gale head-on.

As the Sword Spirit poured forth his power, he raised the sword gripped in his right hand high…

The demon child erupted with explosive force, flinging the sword blade away.

A sound like a great drum being torn apart in an instant echoed once across Daebyeol Mountain.

The sword body floated in midair, his own sword held horizontally, pushed far away.

Then, his body spun violently in midair. After dissipating the force of the surging energy, he harnessed that rotational momentum to unleash a slashing strike that curved diagonally.

Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Shwaaaaah!

Guided by that rotational force and the swordsman’s intent, a sword energy in the shape of a crescent blade (Yanyue Dao) surged toward the Demon Child.

Dodging was ambiguous.

First, the crimson beam was enormous, its speed was swift, and its trajectory was strangely twisted.

With eyes closed, the young sorcerer pressed his palms together, enveloped in the self-defense technique known as the Difficult Path Hand, waiting for the sword’s energy.

The “Difficult Path” refers to the solitary, arduous training required to attain enlightenment.

Though devoid of religious overtones, the Demon Child radiated the aura of a true practitioner of the Way.

Suddenly, the Mado Dongja’s entire body was instantly dyed a brass-like color, then solidified like a bronze Buddha statue.

Clang!

The Demon Child blocked the sword strike with a defensive technique as sharp as a blade, then opened his eyes and stared at the sword’s blade.

The sword spirit glared at the Demon Child, momentarily speechless.

“…”

Both had inflicted humiliation upon the other.

The Demon Child had his first ascetic practice pierced, while the Sword Spirit saw his blade—which he believed could cleave anything—blocked by a defensive technique.

As the Sword God let out a deep sigh, the Demon Child nodded several times, as if acknowledging he had indeed met a formidable foe.

“Indeed, you are the Sword God.”

Though acknowledged by his foe, how could the Sword God’s heart be glad?

The situation remained unchanged.

If they tried to force a decision, both their lives would now be as precarious as a candle before the wind.

True to their status as masters who had reached the pinnacle, they both assessed the situation simultaneously.

Therefore, both men remained motionless, their gazes locked on each other for a moment.

Above them, clouds drifted across the sky, and soon the sun sank behind the western mountains. They remained motionless even as the sky’s hue shifted from light to dark.

Their sole focus was on how to kill the other.

Their deliberation dragged on, and three hours passed in the blink of an eye.

.

.

.

Only after the surroundings grew dark did the two belatedly realize how differently time had passed.

Suddenly, the sword spirit, having released its rigid posture, quietly took three steps back. It sheathed the sword, then closed its eyes. Kneeling, it breathed comfortably, waiting for the magic disciple’s attack.

His thoughts had lingered too long, so now he resolved to think no more.

He intended to leave it to the sword.

The Demon Child looked down at the kneeling swordsman, then brought his hands together, enveloping his entire body layer upon layer with the Nanheng Sword Technique.

The brass-colored light ring that began at the twin palms coiled around his entire body five times.

The sight closely resembled the state achieved when mastering the martial art known as Five Qi Converging at the Center.

Now, the Demon Child’s physical form had completely transformed into that of a bronze Buddha statue.

With eyes closed, the sword spirit sensed the Demon Child’s form gradually growing larger. Though his eyes were shut, he was still sensing the Demon Child’s aura.

It felt larger and harder.

It seemed to be the completed form of the Sword Demon, who had once boasted of his invincibility.

Yet the sword spirit simply left the Demon Child be.

He sensed that gaining something inevitably meant losing something else.

I had thought that growing larger and harder would consume more internal energy than usual.

Regardless of how the Demon Child appeared, the sword spirit kept its mind calm and composed, quietly awaiting the decisive battle.

As the sun vanished and darkness settled, the Demon Child launched another attack.

Shh-aang!

The sword spirit, who had been closing his eyes, responded with a sword strike.

Thud!

As the beam of light struck the Demon Child’s body, he surged forward, unleashing a torrent of force.

The sword spirit instantly pushed off the ground with a single step, retreating backward mid-air.

The immense Great Ascetic First Stage grew larger and larger before his eyes.

When the sword’s blade struck the ground once, it unleashed a horizontal slash. As it surged upward again, it cleaved vertically through the First Layer of Torment…

The first layer of asceticism, split into a cross shape, enveloped the sword’s blade.

At that moment…

The old swordsman, enveloped in light as if he himself had become a sword, charged forward like a beam of light in a state of sword-body unity.

The sword pierced through the First Layer of Asceticism and extended outward, then stabbed the Demon Child’s chest with the sword gripped in both hands.

Splash!

Amidst the chaos, the Demon Child caught the sword that had pierced through the First Layer of Asceticism with both hands clasped together.

A perfectly locked standoff.

The moment the swordsman and the demon child locked eyes…

Both men opened their dantian while drawing upon their entire body’s energy, as if content for the fight to end right then.

The swordsman poured his entire heart into the blade.

‘Ignite…’

The Demon Cultivator, hands pressed together in prayer, closed his eyes and concentrated on the Demon Sword Technique, as if determined to drain every last ounce of the swordsman’s inner energy.

Where on Daebyeol Mountain were the swordsman and the demonic monk?

Their initial clash had been at Jukhae, but now their location was unknown. They had fought while moving for quite some time.

Yet the vast Daebyeol Mountain itself seemed to mark their location, revealing where the two were battling.

The light emanating from where the two stood grew steadily brighter, gradually spreading across the vast Dabie Mountains.

It was now a light so bright that even the heavens could not turn away, compelled to watch.

As the Dabyeol Mountains grew brighter, it was clear the two men’s lifespans were being cut short. How intensely focused they must have been. It had been a long time since they should have been spitting blood and dying instantly, yet the two men still clashed, unleashing their qi to determine supremacy.

As time flowed on like that for a long while…

The sword spirit suddenly realized that the Demon Child’s appearance had aged considerably. His hair hung limply, with strands falling out and drifting away. His features, which had once looked middle-aged, now bore deep wrinkles as if a decade had passed.

But the same was true for the Demon Child.

The swordsman’s hair had turned white, like his eyebrows.

Suddenly, the Demon Child opened his mouth, thinking he looked pleased.

“Gyeomshin, you’ve turned white-haired.”

Gyeomshin retorted, pinching the Demon Child’s half-old, half-young appearance.

“Isn’t it only natural for an old man to grow old?”

Suddenly, as the Demon Child deliberately reduced his internal energy, the sword spirit also slightly withdrew its own energy in unison. Only after gradually recalling the internal energy they had been gradually reducing over a dozen stages through the sword and the twin palms did the two finally break free from each other’s constraints.

Absurdly, dawn was breaking.

The Demon Child stepped back as if exhausted, sat cross-legged, and gazed at the Sword Spirit.

Then, frowning, the swordsman sat down on the floor and checked his own hair first. As the Demon Child had said, it had turned white.

The sword spirit muttered.

“Damn it.”

The young sorcerer heard the sword spirit’s rant and found himself laughing despite himself. But the moment the sword spirit looked at him, he forced the smile from his face.

Laughing wasn’t a crime, yet something inside him sank with a thud.

The Demon Child said to the Sword Spirit.

“I’ll be heading down the mountain now.”

At the words that they would not decide the outcome, the swordsman replied in a calm tone.

“Young monk, I cannot let you go.”

The Demon Child tilted his head askance. He found the reaction unexpected. With their inner energy nearly depleted, all that remained was to fight each other in a spectacle of ugliness. That the sword spirit, the pinnacle of the White Path, would engage in such a fight was something the Demon Child simply couldn’t comprehend.

The Demon Child asked.

“Why?”

The Sword Saint rose as if struggling with effort, then stood rigidly, scolding the Demon Child.

“Because if I don’t stop you here, Master Junja will be lonely.”

“What nonsense is that?”

You must be one of the few who can understand Master Junja. To me, Master Junja is an unforgivable villain, and I cannot let his acquaintance live and go free. Master Junja must live even more alone than he does now. How strong he is matters not. Even if I die, if it means leaving Master Junzi alone, then let Mount Daebyeol become my grave. Rise…

The Demon Child looked up at the sword’s blade.

The old swordsman, whose hair had turned white because of him, was waiting for him to rise, as if urging him to fight again.

The young man sincerely admired the sword spirit.

‘Ah… Truly the Way of the White.’

The young sorcerer asked.

“Can that be a reason to stake your life?”

The sword spirit replied.

“Is that not enough? Countless souls have perished for the sake of the noble ones. Let it be said I sacrifice my life for them. They never reached the heights we have attained; they merely fought and died in vain. Who among the dead could have known? That their lives were toyed with by the noble ones. It makes me furious beyond endurance.”

For the first time, the Demon Child let out a deep sigh.

“If that is what it means…”

The Demon Child rose from his seat and stared blankly at the sword’s blade.

“Though I’ve spent many years with the gentleman, you’re right. I won’t return to him. Is that acceptable?”

The sword spirit asked.

“How can I believe that?”

The demonic child smiled.

“Listen, Sword Spirit. How could men like us have reached this place through deceit? It is because we lived by the words we spoke to each other that we met on Mount Daebyeol and fought this fierce battle.”

Suddenly, the Demon Child gazed at Daebyeol Mountain bathed in the morning sun and spoke.

“So this is Daebyeolsan after all. Will you see me off? No. If I say I’m leaving, then I’m leaving. Sword Spirit, farewell.”

The young sorcerer’s figure grew distant from the sword spirit, then vanished without a trace.

The sword spirit called out to the receding demon child.

“Hey there, young master.”

His reply came from a great distance.

“Speak.”

The sword spirit sheathed his long sword and addressed Mount Daebyeol.

“Don’t go telling anyone you defeated me. Today’s contest is yours for running away, so I win.”

The young man’s voice echoed across Daebyeolsan.

“There’s a man called the Sword Spirit in Baekdo, and his fame is no empty boast. That’s the answer I’ll give if anyone asks. See you again.”

And so the Demon Child vanished…

Left alone, the Sword Spirit let out a long sigh, then laboriously moved his steps toward the sunny side where the sunlight poured down.

“Damn it, my body. Those damn bastards.”

Only then did the Sword Spirit unfasten the long sword hanging at his waist. He placed it beside his head and lay down, resting his head on it like a pillow.

Warm sunlight seeped into his entire body, as if comforting him.

The swordsman muttered as if preparing for a morning nap.

“If you’re old, you should retire. Or maybe I’m old because I can’t retire.”

Moments later, the sword spirit, who had been closing its eyes, suddenly opened them wide. The memory flashed through its mind—the missed opportunity and deception it had sensed when facing the Demon Child, which had prevented it from launching a bold attack.

He was in no state to sleep.