Reincarnated Sword Ghost

Chapter 128 : Bell-Ringing Ceremony

Bell-Ringing Ceremony

Thrusting out a sword.

It should not end as a simple motion of extending the sword with all one's strength.

Simply filling it with true ki and extending it does not make it a finishing move, either.

To focus everything on an extremely tiny spot.

Because all your internal power must be concentrated on that single, minute point, your movements must be more refined and free of excess than in any other move.

Moreover, this was midair.

It was a vast difference from standing on solid ground.

He had yet to reach the state of the body cultivation art, where one could stand in midair as if on the ground.

Therefore, it meant that very soon he would be pulled down by gravity again.

'Focus.'

The Three Talent Sword Technique, regarded as the lowest among all martial arts under heaven, consisted of three moves.

One cuts horizontally, one strikes downward from the top, and the last thrusts straight ahead.

Especially for the third move, it was sometimes referred to as Immortal Points The Way(仙人指路)—meaning one should perform the move as if an immortal were pointing out the way.

Then, how should one do it?

The more precise the point being indicated, the better, isn't it?

In other words―

'Smaller. Even smaller, more.'

At the same moment as he thought this, he focused his true ki on the arm he extended.

His internal power surged through his meridians.

He replaced the stable center of gravity he would have had on the ground with an immense outpouring of internal power.

Once as he drew his elbow back, and again as he thrust his hand forward.

In an instant, his body shot forward as if propelled.

The condensed true ki surged to the tip of his sword in a flash.

The target was the spot between his opponent's brows.

Swaaaak!

True ki shot out from the sword tip, aiming for the spot between his opponent's brows.

It was much too close for any reaction, and the burst of vital ki was exceptionally swift.

Taaang─!

The moment he fully extended his arm, the burst of ki exploded in a wave.

It was a colorless wave of ki.

The sound wasn't loud either.

Because it was fired as the tiniest point, as if piercing the gap between air molecules.

Everyone watching thought the same thing: that the spot between the enemy's brows had been pierced.

Judging by the trajectory and speed, it seemed impossible to avoid.

"......!"

That's why they were all greatly shocked.

The spot between his opponent's brows was unharmed.

At some point, his opponent's head had simply tilted to the side.

He had avoided it with no more than that small movement.

Then, he spoke.

"You, it hasn't even been a full year yet. What kind of sorcery have you been up to in such a short time?"

He stared at Jeong-un with those jet-black pupils, as if seeing some wondrous spiceremony being.

Even the corner of his lips trembled minutely.

"How could you possibly...!"

"Even foreknowledge wouldn't have been enough to counter that...."

The martial artists watching belatedly began chattering, each with their own incredulity.

An unbelievable scene was unfolding.

Their eyes trembled as they looked up at the two men in the air.

A peerless expert from a realm beyond imagination.

To even charge in against such a person was already courageous. None of them had even dared to move.

And yet, that wasn't all; he had unleashed a sword move one might call a secret skill.

In truth, even the strike couldn't be clearly seen.

The golden gleam flashed, and the sword had already swept through the air.

Yet even then, the terrifying opponent had dodged it.

Without even seeing how the sword was swung, he had already shifted his form to the side while no one was watching.

Then again, it was another finishing thrust. It was, quite literally, a sword like a ray of light.

In that moment, they recalled the secret technique of the old Nine Strikes Spear.

That's how perfect that sword thrust was.

'And yet...!'

It missed again.

By now, one might have been expected to falter.

And yet, Jeong-un's face remained wholly unperturbed, even while facing such a peerless expert at such close range.

'Once more.'

At that moment, Jeong-un was preparing his next strike.

It was because he had no intention of giving up until he cut down his enemy.

There wasn't even time to feel discouraged at the failed attack.

If he didn't kill his opponent, he himself would die.

'First...'

Jeong-un flicked his sword sideways with a light motion.

Compared to the previous two strikes, this was quite a gentle sword attack.

Yet it was still full to the brim with true ki. It could by no means be taken lightly.

Sure enough, the enemy waved his palm lightly, as if opening a fan.

It was a movement showing he didn't even think it worth dodging.

Paang!

With that, a burst of ki exploded, sending out a wave.

The recoil flung Jeong-un's body fiercely to the side.

Jeong-un let his body ride that momentum and spun.

Soon, he landed lightly atop the cliff next to the collapsed bell pavilion.

"Ha...."

At this, the cult leader let out a hollow laugh.

Using his attack as a guise, Jeong-un had gained the momentum to move.

The cult leader had acted according to Jeong-un's plan, and couldn't help but be dumbfounded.

The cult leader spoke.

"You're the same as ever. You move as if death holds no place in your mind. Are you not afraid?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Jeong-un stood upright as he spoke.

One hand let the tip of his sword hang toward the ground.

Yet his aura flowed as if he could strike at any moment.

"If you don't kill me, you'll die someday. I won't give up."

"......."

The cult leader closed his mouth and gazed at Jeong-un. He seemed to have almost forgotten the very reason he had come here.

He stared with a peculiar expression, his look in one's eyes so obscure it was impossible to guess his thoughts.

Then, he spoke slowly.

"... Very well. The harvest wouldn't be so bad even now. But."

With that, his eyes briefly flicked past Jeong-un. It was a rather distant spot.

To be precise, it was the direction where Shaolin Temple lay.

"Looks like a bunch of foolish old monks guarding the wrong place are coming this way. Above all, I'm a bit curious too. Just how much more can your vessel contain? And then, that internal energy of yours that borders on nothingness. You wield it even after storing a purer energy than even natural energy. Ordinarily, human internal power is mixed with intent and inevitably tainted..."

"......."

He rambled on with unknowable words.

Jeong-un didn't bother listening.

The man had been spouting nonsense since the cave of the Divine Physician.

He was, after all, the one posing as the vanished leader of the Demonic Cult.

For Jeong-un, he was simply one more enemy to be cut down and forgotten.

'My internal energy is more than enough.'

It was right after having unleashed two sword strikes drawn out to the very limits of what he could contain.

Yet, impressively, his body still felt light.

The internal energy in his dantian was flowing like fire through his meridians, heating his entire body.

As if demanding to be unleashed at once. That's how enormous his reserve of internal power was.

Jeong-un stole a glance at his opponent and murmured inwardly.

'I couldn't catch that single moment when he dodged. He moves in abrupt, chopped intervals.'

The last sword strike really was his best effort.

If someone like him, a swordsman with no foundations, could have a martial art, then that strike had combined every bit of insight he could muster.

And yet, he'd failed twice to take his opponent's breath.

Still, he summoned his true ki.

In an instant, the energy cycled, readying him to shoot his form forward.

Jeong-un measured the distance between himself and his foe.

Then, up ahead, the enemy opened his mouth to speak.

"Once again, here you are measuring odds in front of me. You did the same before. Before you swung your sword, you used ki sense to keep track of those moving the brazen bell below. Why are you always preparing for the next moment? Surely even you can sense that you're nothing but a weed before me."

"You're the weed."

Jeong-un spoke out.

"Utterly useless, just like you."

"......."

For a moment, his opponent seemed at a loss for words, then quickly recovered.

Once again, his gaze shifted past Jeong-un.

'......?'

Jeong-un felt it as well.

The vital ki coming from behind was overwhelming. And it was incredibly fast.

At that speed, it would arrive here in an instant.

The cult leader spoke up.

"Seems like today's show ends here. Something bothersome is coming...."

He hadn't even finished speaking—

Suddenly, the ki behind them tore through space.

By the feel of that energy, it should have taken a little longer; yet, it had skipped across space as if blinking.

The next instant, the energy arrived behind Jeong-un's back.

Hwaaaak!

A powerful and majestic burst of ki poured in from behind.

The awe-inspiring force seemed to grip the surroundings in its hand.

That was the sense of overwhelming power filling the area.

'What is this—'

Jeong-un turned his head.

Even against a powerful enemy right before him, he couldn't resist checking behind.

And then he saw it.

A giant, colorless palm.

Wooooong!

It was Mu Jung.

His right hand was lifted beside his head, and around it, immense Buddhist power and internal energy formed the shape of a massive hand.

"......!"

Jeong-un had never seen true ki manifest so vividly and tangibly.

At this moment, he got to witness the phenomenon of a transcendently advanced martial art from close range.

'Insane.'

Mu Jung brushed past Jeong-un.

Then, he moved his raised hand gently forward.

As he did, a house-sized mass of true ki, shaped like a hand, came crashing down.

Jjeojeong─!

A crash like thunder shook the air.

Like the sky itself was being torn, a ripple distorted the night sky.

It was the secret technique of the Shaolin abbot—the Buddha's Divine Palm.

"......!"

Just what sort of miraculous skill was this?

Even against an attack of that magnitude, his opponent dodged yet again.

He was already standing in another part of space.

He was not simply dodging attacks aimed at himself.

He was avoiding even the gazes of those watching.

At this, Mu Jung spoke.

"A wicked man shrouds himself in strange arts."

"You call me strange? For an old man on death's door to display such skill so easily—that's the real marvel."

The cult leader answered calmly.

Even in the face of one of the martial world's greatest, he remained utterly composed.

Even as that man radiated killing intent at him.

Then, turning to Jeong-un, he said,

"I suppose I'll have to keep tracking your movements. How did you grow so much? Even a tender peach tree needs three or four years to bear fruit. If it's about oddities, you take the prize."

"Amitabha."

Jeong-un had no chance to respond.

Mu Jung shouted a Buddhist chant and, at the same time, a formless giant palm aimed at the man again.

Once more, the air was rent with a thunderous roar.

A curved smile drifted across the leader's lips at the same instant.

"See you again, you spiritual creature."

Jjeojeojeong─!

As the sky split with crashing ki wave, the colorless palm vanished in an instant.

The abbot realized the man had disappeared from midair and immediately withdrew his attack.

The Shaolin abbot's ki sense was that keen.

"......."

Silence fell over the area.

No one spoke.

With so much chaos just moments before, everyone had an overwhelming mass of thoughts to sort through.

"Master!"

Then, the Shaolin monks who had followed after Mu Jung rushed in as if flying.

Each was openly radiating powerful prayer energy.

Each of them was a formidable expert.

These were the warrior monks who followed the abbot.

"What in the world happened... Wait, the brazen bell?"

Everything was in shambles.

There were even mountaintops here and there still sliding in small landslides.

And most striking of all was the edge of the cliff in front of them.

It had utterly collapsed; where the bell pavilion should be, there was nothing left.

"What is this...?"

They had been maintaining tight security to guard against Divine Thief.

The bell ceremony was to have been performed by the abbot's last disciple and some younger monks.

That should have sufficed to ring the bell.

Yet, none had expected that the brazen bell itself would be targeted.

Though it held deep meaning due to its long history, it was hardly enough to be considered a treasure among martial artists.

Suddenly, several loud explosions had rocked the sky.

In that tumult, they had rushed over, only to be greeted by this sight.

No wonder they were confused.

Then, their eyes turned to a single young man.

"......."

He was a stranger to them.

Given that any martial artist present for Shaolin's bell-ringing ceremony would be well-known to the monks, his identity was a mystery.

'Ah.'

When had it happened?

Only then did Jeong-un notice that the norigae at his waist had snapped in half.

His bare face was exposed.

At that moment, Mu Jung spoke up.

"Come."

He was speaking to Jeong-un.

The surrounding monks looked at Mu Jung with puzzled expressions.

Come?

To take this young man along, without even knowing who he was?

The Shaolin abbot looked around at the assembly and added,

"He is my guest."