Return of The Mount Hua – Chapter 1748 – Consider this me venting (3)
Editor: Hoamzz
Co-Translator: Xoxo
“A- Amitabha…”
A groan-like Buddha's name leaked from Hye Yeon's mouth.
'What in the world is that?'
The sight of slender tentacles erupting from the blood cultist’s wounds and lashing out in all directions was something he couldn't believe, even as he watched it. A beast? No, it felt closer to an insect.
But how could such things come from a human body?
'No, more importantly...'
The place the tentacles tore out from was the area his fist had struck. The flesh that had turned black and dead was regaining its original color as those earthworm-like tentacles writhed.
What kind of sorcery was this?
No matter how wide the world was and how it overflowed with bizarre and outrageous sorcery he didn't know, that far exceeded the common sense of martial arts he knew.
"Amitabha. Amitabha!"
He chanted the Buddha's name several times trying to steady his trembling heart.
“Keuhak….”
Meanwhile, the blood cultist in question slowly wiped the blood dripping from his lips and stepped boldly toward Hye Yeon. Hye Yeon unconsciously took a faltering step back.
“Khaaaaaa!”
The blood cultist's low groan changed into a strange cry. The blood cultist charged forward while emanating bloody energy.
Hye Yeon bit his lower lip tightly.
* * *
"Wh- What's that?"
The situation wasn't much different on the other side either.
Jo-Gol's eyes shook with shock. It was only natural, considering the arm he had personally severed was reattaching itself to its original place.
“Ugh... Damn it.”
Jo-Gol ended up covering his mouth with his left hand.
The sight of tendrils connecting arm to arm was so bizarre that it made even Jo-Gol, who prided himself on being bold in his own way, groan. A physiological disgust welled up within him.
'The severed part reattaches itself?'
It wasn't just the arm. Those hideous tentacles were wriggling in a long gash in the man's side as well. If they simply reattached every time he cut them, how on earth was he supposed to deal with such things?
"No…."
"Stay calm."
At that moment, Yoo Iseol's cold voice pierced his ears.
"Sago, b- but..."
“Sorcery is originally vast. So vast we cannot possibly know it all.”
He had no choice but to agree with that. He had never even heard of such things, let alone seen them in his life.
"However, it's simple. The solution."
"What?"
Yoo Iseol slowly raised her sword.
“No one can use sorcery once their head is cut off.”
“……Unless they’re fools, wouldn't they try to protect their necks?”
"You bind the limbs. I'll cut the neck."
Jo-Gol shook his head unconsciously. Listening to this, they would have no excuse if someone mistook them for Evil Sects.
"...I don't know if I'm stupid or Sago is smart."
A chuckle escaped Jo-Gol's lips.
Honestly, the method wasn't important. What was truly impressive was her ability to remain completely unshaken even in the face of such a sight. At times like this, Yoo Iseol was more reliable than anyone in Mount Hua.
"We're two so that's fine... but what about those who went alone? It seems dangerous."
"Obviously."
Jo-Gol nodded in understanding once again.
Indeed, was there any other way? The only choice was to clean this place up as quickly as possible and go to support the others.
"Then I'll start."
"Go."
“Hup!”
Jo-Gol kicked off the ground with all his might and charged forward.
* * *
A drop of sweat rolled down Yoon Jong’s chin.
'His neck was cut.'
Yet it was standing up. The severed neck was reattaching.
What should this be called? Recovery? Or regeneration?
Whatever it was, it was something that shouldn't happen to a human. That much was certain.
Of course, martial arts itself toughens the human body and allow one to exert power beyond normal human limits. From an ordinary person's perspective, it was unknown which would seem more bizarre between one whose severed body reattached and one who toppled mountains with a single sword.
But even knowing this, Yoon Jong felt a surge of terror. Perhaps because the common sense he had known was crumbling. Humans naturally feel a vague fear toward things they cannot understand.
Yoon Jong struggled to suppress his fear. But before he could fully compose his heart, they moved first.
"You seem to be frightened."
The blood cultist approached triumphantly, blood dripping from his mouth.
"Utterly foolish. You should be moved by the blessing, yet instead you feel fear."
Yoon Jong’s senses shifted slightly behind. The blood cultist who had risen like a puppet still hadn't regained consciousness. The one standing behind had nearly lost his neck. It seemed recovery speed differed according to the degree of injury.
However, the problem was that he couldn't entirely ignore the one behind him either. Since he couldn't accurately gauge when they would recover.
'Damn it.'
Yoon Jong suddenly felt the agonizing absence of Jo-Gol. If only that guy had been here, being surrounded like this wouldn't...
"Waiting for reinforcements? Doesn't seem like anyone's coming though?"
“…….”
“Where has your initial arrogance gone? This is why people like you disgust me. When you’re in a group you act like you own the sky, but when left alone, you become this pathetic.”
Yoon Jong clenched his jaw tight.
It was a transparently obvious provocation. He wasn’t the type to fall for something like this. Yet those words pierced deep into his chest.
'Gol wouldn't have been frightened.'
Yoo Iseol would have attacked again without hesitation, and Tang Soso would have analyzed the situation calmly. Chung Myung? That guy wouldn't have let this situation happen in the first place.
But what did Yoon Jong have?
He had been feeling it for some time now. The fact that he was falling behind compared to others. Looking at it coldly, his current role was nothing more than cleaning up after and supporting the rampaging Jo-Gol.
That was why those words hurt.
'However…!'
The blood cultist charged toward him.
“Die!”
Yoon Jong reflexively tried to leap back, then caught himself and gritted his teeth. There was an enemy behind him too. He mustn't forget.
'Stay calm!'
The cut places had just healed. It didn't mean they couldn't be cut. The opponent's skill itself wasn't that outstanding. If it healed, just cut it again.
Yoon Jong thrust his sword toward the enemy who rushed roughly swinging their arm. The lightning-fast sword aimed for the enemy's neck.
A textbook move. But precisely because it was textbook, it was extremely threatening.
However, the moment he fully extended his sword, Yoon Jong's eyes widened greatly. He belatedly realized the mistake he had made.
Kwang!
Yoon Jong's body was flung sideways.
“Kkeureuk.”
A gurgling sound of blood rose.
Yoon Jong's sword pierced the masked man's neck precisely. According to all logic, one whose neck was pierced would have lost their breath before even attacking Yun Jong.
But the blood cultist struck Yoon Jong in the side, undeterred by being pierced through the neck.
“Keuhak!”
Yoon Jong rolled across the ground and spat out a harsh cough.
A searing pain spread through him as if all his ribs had been shattered. His mouth burst open and the metallic taste of blood spread inside.
‘Damn it….’
It wasn't that Yoon Jong was foolish.
Martial arts was like that. At a stalemate where life and death split in an instant, thoughts were meaningless. The study of martial arts was the process of repeating the same movements over countless hours so that the body acts before the mind can think.
Reflexively targeting the enemy's neck the moment of being attacked was close to instinct. And it was also a habit Yoon Jong had forcibly created until now.
Yet that long habit that had saved Yoon Jong from countless crises became a hindrance only at this moment.
"Huuk."
Yoon Jong gasped for breath and clenched his teeth.
From the gaping hole in the blood cultist's neck, those bizarre tentacles were wriggling and surging once more. The hole was gradually being filled.
Of course, the newly grown flesh wasn't normal. Not a pale red color, but flesh of a color like tree bark, blackish-dark even at a glance. Regardless, the wound was disappearing yet again.
‘This isn't going to work…’
Yoon Jong, momentarily overcome with dread, froze. His eyes gradually settled into a deep stillness.
- It's too much, Sasuk!
He had shouted that day. But Baek Cheon did not look back.
Yoon Jong let out a long sigh and thought.
What would Baek Cheon have done in this situation?
First, he would have put strength into his legs. So that his weak will wouldn't manifest as a tremble. Believing that broadly squared shoulders would provide strength even to himself.
‘There can’t be no answer.’
If there were, those blood palace bastards wouldn't have remained quietly in the Outer Palaces.
Moreover, that wasn't all. Yoon Jong had already personally witnessed them retreating. If their bodies could truly regenerate infinitely, they would never have retreated like that...
'Wait.'
Yoon Jong paused once again. He recalled the moment when the Blood Palace and Chung Myung had faced each other.
'What did that bastard say when he retreated back then?'
Clearly at Chung Myung’s sword...
“Haat!”
Before his thoughts could fully connect, the enemies charged with overturned eyes. Yoon Jong reflexively pushed off the ground and leaped backward.
'Immortal Energy (선기(仙氣))?'
He was certain that's what was said.
Kwagagak!
The misshapen blade and sword collided. At that moment, the blood cultist extended his other arm and coiled it around Yoon Jong's sword. Something a sane human wouldn't even imagine.
But for them, it was possible. Whether an arm was severed or pierced, it was a winning trade if they could bind the opponent’s sword for even a moment.
Yoon Jong pulled back his sword in fright. In that split second, the blood cultist’s misshapen blade grazed Yoon Jong's neck. A neck that, unlike theirs, could never reattach.
'Immortal Energy!'
Yoon Jong's breath grew rough.
Immortal Energy, meaning the energy of immortals. What those who used Taoist path swords wished for even in dreams. However, no one knew what its true substance was.
‘No.’
Thinking back, they hadn't said Immortal Energy was their specific weakness. They had only said that Immortal Energy was the natural enemy of all sorcery.
Why did Chung Myung say that?
"Kahahahat!"
At that very moment, the howl of an enemy was heard from behind. Simultaneously, he felt a fierce energy rushing at his back.
Yoon Jong instinctively rolled his body.
Kwang!
Almost at the same time, the surface of the ground where he had been standing exploded, scattering dirt and stones.
"Huuk!"
Rough breaths continuously burst from his mouth.
'Then why didn't he tell us?'
If Immortal Energy was the answer to dealing with them, and he knew Mount Hua might clash with them again... Why didn't Chung Myung teach everyone how to draw upon Immortal Energy?
Why?
"This donkey-like guy knows no shame."
“And to think he’s been acting so high and mighty all this time.”
The Blood Cultists snickered at the sight of Yoon Jong rolling on the ground to dodge the attack. But their mockery couldn't shake Yoon Jong in the slightest.
“…I’m sorry, but.”
When Yoon Jong's mouth opened for the first time, the blood cultists looked intently at Yoon Jong with interest in their eyes.
“I’ve never acted high and mighty. I was never that great of a person to begin with.”
“Haha!”
A scathing ridicule returned.
Once again, Yoon Jong breathed coldly and calmly instead of showing anger.
He had spoken his true feelings, so there was no reason to be angry.
Compared to his monster-like saje, or his Sasuk and Sago who seemed to climb higher with every glance. Compared to them, Yoon Jong lacks anything extraordinary. He knew it best himself.
Nevertheless, what did he have?
His eyes sank calmly.
“We’ve dragged this on too long. Let’s just finish him and go…”
"I know."
The blood cultists conversed while glancing upward. If they spent more time here, reinforcement might come from Mount Wudang's direction. Then they would be in danger instead.
"Finish him."
"Yes."
The blood cultists surrounded Yoon Jong widely.
Yoon Jong calmly surveyed them. He could clearly feel their resolve to finish him in a single blow. He had a premonition this wouldn't be easy to handle. A coordinated attack by those indifferent to their own wounds would be more vicious and dangerous than imaginable.
But instead of panicking, he took a deep breath. His sword emitted a heavy sword cry.
Why didn't Chung Myung tell us?
And why didn't Baek Cheon speak of what he was trying to do, what he intended to do?
"Kahahahaat!"
As one blood cultist charged straight at Yoon Jong, as if keeping pace, the others covered him with their eerie misshapen blades raised.
Yoon Jong's eyes momentarily emitted a fierce light. But just as quickly, that gaze became as calm as a still lake.
'Because there was no need to tell.'
Nothing in the world, absolutely nothing, changes suddenly. Nothing can be obtained in an instant either.
If it seems that way, it's only because one fails to recognize the long time hidden behind it.
Sharp misshapen blades flew from all directions to tear Yoon Jong's body.
Yoon Jong, who had been watching as if observing others, slowly moved his sword.
'It's not that he didn't tell.'
It was just that there was no need to say it.
Even if not special, even if not great, it would necessarily exist.
If the time he had accumulated so far wasn’t false, his answer would be within him. For that is martial arts (무(武)), and that is the Tao (도(道)!
“Believe.”
Following Yoon Jong's murmur, the sharp tip of his sword moved gently. Red petals began to bloom abundantly.
Its appearance resembled transparent and clear morning dew.
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