Chapter 65
With light steps, Sau and Namgung Jin sped across the land using qigong (lightness skill) until they stopped in a deserted mountain area.
Namgung Jin silently drew his sword from its sheath and pointed it at Sau.
In contrast, Sau didn’t even bother to draw his weapon.
“You’re not going to use your sword?”
“I think my external techniques will suffice… but if you insist, I’ll use it.”
Slowly, Sau pulled out his sword. The pitch-black blade revealed itself—dark as ink, without the slightest sheen. It barely reflected any light, and just looking at it sent chills down the spine.
Each time the sword shifted, there was the illusion of a low, humming resonance.
It didn’t exude any evil aura, yet it gave the impression of standing before something unholy.
Even though Sau didn’t take up any formal stance, the instant he gripped his sword, his presence became overwhelming—so much so that Namgung Jin felt as if he were facing his father, a man like Mount Tai itself.
Namgung Jin swallowed hard.
“I challenged him to a duel to uncover his identity… but this might be more dangerous than I thought.”
It wasn’t a thoughtless challenge. Namgung Jin wanted to see what kind of martial arts Sau used.
In the martial world, one’s techniques often revealed hints about their origins and past.
Even if Sau tried to hide his true skill, Namgung Jin himself was a master.
If Sau displayed even a few sword techniques, he could deduce their lineage.
He had to uncover the mystery surrounding the man before him—no matter what.
“Are you ready?”
Sau asked calmly, tilting his head slightly.
“Even if you’re a master, I won’t go down easily.”
Namgung Jin steadied his breath and assumed a flawless sword posture.
Sau’s eyes swept over his opponent.
“A fine stance. Someone this disciplined wouldn’t have been targeted by the Demon Cult for kidnapping.”
The Eight Blood Chaos only kidnapped those who were talented yet not too strong—the cult wasn’t at full power back then.
Then Sau spoke, his voice low and steady.
“Let’s not use internal energy.”
It wasn’t that he feared exposing his demonic energy.
He was perfectly capable of concealing it, thanks to a special cultivation art—Yang-ui Sim Gong, the “Dual Heart Technique.”
Inside his danjeon (energy core), two conflicting forces coexisted:
the Heaven and Earth Divine Art (Geon-gon Shingong) he learned as a Taoist,
and the Heaven-Chaos Demonic Art (Honcheon Magong) he mastered to wield the Asura Blood-Heaven Sword.
They coexisted without merging, and he could alternate between them.
That principle allowed him to completely hide his demonic energy—
even feign a Taoist’s aura by using only pure qi.
He had learned this Dual Heart Technique right after being kidnapped by the Demon Cult—failure to master it meant immediate death.
Of course, among the eight kidnapped geniuses, none had failed to learn it.
“Though… after learning the Honcheon Magong, most of them went mad.”
Many succumbed to the demonic energy, their minds shattered or their bodies destroyed.
Sau had two reasons for proposing a fight without internal energy.
First, he didn’t want this duel to attract attention from the martial artists in Hubei.
It wasn’t time yet.
He was waiting for the moment when he could stand above all others in the martial world.
Once he cured his madness and perfected the Asura Blood-Heaven Sword, he would unleash himself like an unbridled stallion—
but not yet.
Until then, he wanted to eliminate his enemies quietly and unseen.
The second reason was, curiously enough, Baeksam.
Or rather, her words.
“You mustn’t kill each other, or hurt each other, no matter what!”
That warning stuck in his heart like a thorn, restricting his movements.
“Not a saint, but a wicked enchantress, perhaps.”
At the mere thought of her, a lazy smile played on his lips.
I won’t kill him, as you said… but I never promised to let him go unscathed.
“I agree. No internal energy.”
Namgung Jin nodded.
The moment Sau refocused on him, a chilling, feral pressure radiated outward.
“Come.”
Clang!
White blade and black blade collided.
It was only one clash, but Namgung Jin realized instantly—
he would never be able to defeat this man.
His sword split the air in rapid succession—the famed Quick Sword of the Three-Eyed Dragon.
Yet it wasn’t merely fast; each strike carried weight and precision.
But Sau didn’t even counterattack. He simply moved—
his blade lowered, his body shifting gracefully and impossibly fast.
Though it looked effortless, he evaded every strike with movements too fast for the eye to follow.
His footwork flowed naturally, flawless.
Impossible… is that “Changing Illusion and Reality” (Ihyeong Hwanwi)?
That was a top-tier lightness technique reserved for only the greatest of masters—
and Sau looked far too young for that.
Could he be an old master who’s undergone rejuvenation (Hwangol Dalt’ae)?
Even stranger—he left no trace behind.
No footprints, no disturbances. Perfect Treading Snow Without a Trace (Dapsol Muhun).
At this rate, I might lose without seeing a single of his forms…
Only the faint sound of his clothes slicing through air surrounded Sau.
No matter how many times Namgung Jin struck, he couldn’t even graze Sau’s sleeve.
Panting heavily, he thought—
I knew I couldn’t win… but to think our levels differed this much.
Yet instead of despair, something inside him burned.
If he could just cut this man’s sleeve once,
all the humiliation he’d endured would be avenged.
He had forgotten this duel’s purpose entirely—his blood boiled with fighting spirit.
“You’re weak.”
Strangely, the words didn’t offend him.
Sau was truly strong—and he, in contrast, was truly weak.
The difference in skill was absolute.
“Haha, don’t you think you’re too strong, young master?”
“I despise weakness.”
“So do I! And you haven’t completely won yet!”
“Tiresome. Let’s end this.”
Sau lifted his sword slightly.
Even without infusing it with energy, the blade seemed to hum.
The motion was so slow, it didn’t even look like an attack—
until—
Flash!
Sau’s figure vanished.
“…!”
Namgung Jin blinked—
and the next moment, Sau’s sword tip was before his eyes.
Through the blade’s edge, he saw Sau’s piercing gaze locking him in place.
He hadn’t even seen him move. The shock was paralyzing.
“Your sword is too straight.”
Sau murmured, extending his empty left hand.
It was a single, devastating palm strike.
“…!”
He was caught off guard—it wasn’t a sword attack!
Even without internal energy, the palm struck his chest directly, twisting his vital channels.
Namgung Jin coughed up a mouthful of blood. Pain rippled through his body, sharp as breaking bones.
“Guh…!”
Sau withdrew his hand, murmuring coldly—
“You’re lucky that girl, Baeksam, pleaded for your life. Next time, you won’t be.”
And with that quiet warning, Sau lowered his hand from Namgung Jin’s chest.
