Chapter 83
I took advantage of the moment when no one was paying attention to me and lightly tapped the pocket at my waist.
Slipping my fingers inside, I rubbed the wing of the poison needle and then gripped the thin hair-like dart.
A needle thinner than animal hair.
The tiny amount of poison on it wouldn’t be enough to fell Do-eul, but…
‘It can make him hesitate.’
I couldn’t use the full Poison Qi technique. If I did, Do-eul’s gaze would immediately snap toward me.
Careful not to be noticed, I focused on Peng Sim-yeong.
At that moment, our eyes met.
I gently shook the hair-thin dart pinched between my ring and middle fingers.
Had Peng Sim-yeong seen it?
‘It would be better if she did.’
But even if she hadn’t, it didn’t matter.
If Do-eul was startled even for a moment, she could get away safely.
One thing I had realized from the incident orchestrated by Dang-yeong was this:
People’s field of vision is narrower than you think.
‘People see only what they want to see.’
When the mechanism activated, the martial artists familiar with the Poison Dragon Horn instinctively focused on it.
Because of that, they didn’t notice Dang-yeong’s smaller attack coming from behind.
Similarly, when someone’s attention is caught by one thing, other things tend to go unnoticed.
Especially in such a tense standoff, everyone—father, junior master, and the other martial artists—would be too alert to other details.
Even things like a child from the Sacheondang clan, not yet of age.
I quietly released the Manhyeolsa hidden in my sleeve.
The Manhyeolsa, a snake that silently approaches its prey, was perfect for startling someone.
‘Go carefully now.’
The deadliest silent hunter, the Manhyeolsa, moved soundlessly toward Do-eul’s feet.
As expected, Do-eul, busy watching his father and conversing with Hon-don, didn’t notice the snake at his feet.
Ssssh.
The Manhyeolsa reached Do-eul and raised its head.
At that instant, both Do-eul and Hon-don noticed it.
“What—!”
“Trickery!”
Whish!
At that moment, I threw the hair-thin dart at Do-eul’s wounded shoulder.
The dart, coated with the poisonous scales of the Poison Needle, shot through the air and embedded itself in his shoulder.
“Do you not care about the life of a junior master? Fine, let’s see…!”
Do-eul, enraged, swung his sword to strike the junior master’s neck—but then.
‘Huh?’
His right arm didn’t move.
What?
The slash from the Tang clan member grazed his shoulder but didn’t leave a serious wound.
It hadn’t severed tendons—just slightly tore the skin.
So why was his arm frozen?
At that moment, Do-eul’s eyes fell on the thin dart lodged in his wound.
A Sacheondang hair dart.
A poison-coated secret technique of the Tang clan.
Do-eul’s head reflexively turned toward Dang Jin-hyeon.
When had it even happened…!
Then.
Seizing the moment when Do-eul’s right arm weakened, Peng Sim-yeong spun quickly, striking Do-eul’s solar plexus with her right hand and deflecting his sword with her left.
The Peng family’s Honyon Pikryeok Palm!
Once again, in this distant corner of Hebuk, Peng Sim-yeong unleashed it.
“Grr, grrraah!”
Do-eul was thrown far back by the sudden strike.
His sword had injured Peng Sim-yeong’s neck and chest, but the wounds were not life-threatening.
“Hmph, how dare a black-sworded wretch!”
Peng Sim-yeong staggered, quickly moving out of Do-eul and Hon-don’s range.
Although she was a branch member of the Hebuk Peng family, her exceptional talent had earned her recognition, and she had trained alongside the direct line members.
What just happened was no coincidence—it was skill.
However, her Honyon Pikryeok Palm was weaker than that of the direct line.
It was the limitation of a branch member and the fact that she lacked a natural bone structure suitable for martial arts.
Sure enough, the fallen Do-eul soon rose to his feet.
Had the direct line delivered the same strike with full Honyon energy, Do-eul’s meridians would have been twisted and his bones broken.
But the rushed strike did not cause significant damage.
[Thank you, Bi-ya.]
Peng Sim-yeong spoke through her telepathy, hiding Dang-bi behind her.
Dang-bi, staring at Peng Sim-yeong’s blood-soaked arm, stomped anxiously.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Leave this place to us and go with Ja-heon to escort the wounded to the infirmary.”
Dang-bi looked around.
The injured disciples of Cheonhwa Mountain Hall were still confronting the black-sworded attackers, wary of making a move.
At least those standing were in a relatively better position.
“Ugh… ughhh…”
Those lying on the ground were in critical condition. The junior master’s worried gaze fell on them.
‘This won’t do.’
The battle between these black-swordsmen and Cheonhwa Mountain Hall would inevitably end in the latter’s victory.
With Hall Master Yu Dae-seung present and the Tang clan’s Dang Jin-hyeon and martial artists assisting, victory was certain.
However.
‘The wounded must be treated now!’
Dang-bi’s urgency surged.
As the Tang medical master Dang Sa-yuk had said, there is a time for every treatment.
Miss that time, and the damage is irreversible.
Of course, victory mattered.
But even if Cheonhwa Mountain Hall won this meaningless fight, what use would it be if beloved disciples died?
[Where is the infirmary?]
[Ja-heon knows.]
[We’ll move the urgent cases first.]
Dang-bi turned to the Tang martial artists, conveying her orders, and they quickly carried the wounded.
Meanwhile, the disciples able to fight rose again, beheading the bandits.
“Young master, come with me!”
Dang-bi grabbed Ja-heon’s hand.
“We must go to the infirmary. Move the wounded.”
“But, mother—!”
“Focus! There’s nothing we can do here!”
From this point, it was a matter for the adults. Dang-bi and Ja-heon couldn’t intervene.
Moreover.
‘Do-eul said he was tricked too.’
Great Demon Ghost had said something similar.
‘Then it’s likely they will retreat without overextending.’
With that conclusion, Dang-bi headed to Cheonhwa Mountain Hall’s infirmary with the wounded.
Those unable to move were carried by the Tang martial artists.
“Do you know? There’s probably only one Poison Thorn left.”
Daechun-gwi pointed to the blood-red pond.
“In Yunnan, they’re already extinct. Haven’t been seen in ages.”
“What does that matter now? Worry about your own life!”
Yu Dae-seung swung his sword at Daechun-gwi.
Cheonhwa Hundred-Style Sword Technique, Second Form
Cheonhwa Manyoung (Heavenly Flowers Fully Bloom)
The second form, the most powerful of the Hundred-Style Sword Techniques, was swung at Daechun-gwi.
Blue sword energy coalesced, forming a blade of raw power.
Startled by its ferocity, Daechun-gwi quickly dodged.
“Master, let’s make a deal.”
“Dodging like a rat, you think I’ll make a deal with a black-swordsman?”
Yu Dae-seung, now a white-haired elder, had not lost any of his skill.
Iron rusts, stones crack, beasts weaken over time.
But a human, endlessly refining martial arts and striving for enlightenment, never grows weak.
All the more for Yu Dae-seung, who devoted his life to perfecting Cheonhwa Hundred-Style Sword Techniques like a boy.
He swung his arm, mimicking the final move of the technique he had glimpsed.
At that moment, Daechun-gwi, realizing he could not match the master of Cheonhwa Mountain Hall, saw defeat in his eyes.
He had not come to the hall out of greed.
He had come only for a purpose.
‘He said the master wasn’t here.’
He had thought only the junior master, junior mistress, elderly disciples, and young students were in the hall.
Had he known Yu Dae-seung and the Tang clan were present, Daechun-gwi would never have walked into this death trap.
‘Damn Blood Demon Cult bastards…’
Gritting his teeth, Daechun-gwi blocked Yu Dae-seung’s strikes and looked toward the pond where the Poison Thorn hid.
For now, that pond was his only lifeline.
