Chapter 25: Chapter 25
What was the dantian?
An invisible vessel, formed of mist-like energy.
And holes in it?
Even the Sixth Elder, the Poison-Born Demon Physician, couldn’t fix that.
If anyone could, it would be one person.
“Perhaps the Cult Leader might know…”
A man who had mastered thousands of disciplines, from martial arts to sorcery, medicine, bedroom arts, and poison techniques. A man who had reached the divine realm.
The greatest under heaven. The Heavenly Demon, Jin U-gwang.
Only him.
“Regardless, a truly peculiar pair has appeared. A young master who inherited only his constitution, and an adjutant whose perception has reached the pinnacle.”
Ji Dae-ho’s eyes gleamed as he leaned back.
A half-genius adjutant, Jang I-seo.
And likewise, a half-genius young master, Mao.
He looked forward to watching their progress.
How far could they go with what they had?
“Of course, they’ll need to succeed at this private audience with the Cult Leader first.”
Rising lips.
Ji Dae-ho was already eagerly anticipating his next encounter with them.
* * *
Rustle-
The forest path from Wolha Village to the Heavenly Demon Palace.
Yesterday’s rain had left the ground damp. Wind scattered droplets from the leaves.
No place to linger, by any measure.
Yet for some time now, two men had been bickering in the middle of the path.
“Are you stupid? Does this not work? Why not? Why.”
“Ugh, I don’t know. You need to explain so I can understand. Why do you keep telling me to send internal energy? I just push and it goes on its own.”
“Which is why. I’m asking you to slowly circulate a Great Heavenly Circuit. You know what that is. Sending internal qi through all twelve primary meridians and the eight extraordinary vessels.”
“I don’t know. It just all goes on its own.”
“Yes. Fine. Then do that slowly. Slowly. Don’t tell me you don’t understand what that means.”
“Uh, no. Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know.”
“Ah, you bastard.”
“Hey, what did you just say?”
“Don’t know don’t know don’t know.”
“Hey!”
They fought like children. Going by the conversation alone, both were kids.
But astonishingly, these were the genius adjutant Jang I-seo and the genius young master Mao, the ones Ji Dae-ho had pegged as the next generation’s rising stars.
Contrary to Ji Dae-ho’s expectations, the two hadn’t even made it one li from Wolha Village.
One reason.
‘Jegal Gwi-ryong talks loosely, but he doesn’t lie. In that sense, the door to the Heavenly Demon Palace testing one’s qualifications is likely true.’
Jang I-seo had shoved Jegal Gwi-ryong into the Seventh Small Palace claiming he’d wasted his money, but inwardly, he hadn’t taken the man’s words lightly. He’d thought much deeper and approached from a different angle.
‘It’s not a door opened by raw strength. If it were, the Fifth and Sixth Young Masters, both younger than Mao, wouldn’t have been able to open it.’
Mao was the only one who hadn’t opened the doors. So strength wasn’t the answer. Then what remained?
The answer.
‘Internal energy.’
It lay in internal force. Others might scoff and call it absurd, asking where in the world you’d find a door that measured internal energy. But Jang I-seo was different.
This was the headquarters of evil, overflowing with every manner of sorcery.
He’d seen such a bizarre door himself and attempted to open it thousands of times, hadn’t he?
‘The Demon Wall in the Heavenly Demon Treasury. Such doors definitely exist in Cheonsan.’
So the possibility of another such wall in the Heavenly Demon Palace was a far more credible hypothesis.
But Mao hadn’t been able to open the door.
He, born with the Heaven-Yang Body, who accumulated internal energy just by breathing. The finest constitution under heaven.
The reason was simple.
‘This bastard started accumulating pure internal energy from the moment he drew his first breath. His Conception and Governing Vessels were already open. The Life-and-Death Gate, which ninety-nine out of a hundred people never fully open in their entire lifetimes, was open from birth. So he’s never needed to learn how to circulate qi. Why? He never needed a cultivation method.’
An absence of circulation.
That was Mao’s problem.
What was a cultivation method?
Accumulating internal qi in the dantian through breathing. Passing it through the perineum at the Huiyin point, up the spine to the Baihui point at the crown, then down through the forehead, chest, and back to the dantian. The so-called Lesser Heavenly Circuit, flowing through the Governing and Conception Vessels.
Sending internal qi through all twelve primary meridians and the Conception and Governing Vessels, from fingertips to the soles of the feet. The Great Heavenly Circuit.
These were the fundamentals of cultivation methods.
And they were further divided into accumulation techniques for storing internal qi and application techniques for using it.
Among these, application naturally produced greater power and took longer when completing a Great Heavenly Circuit versus a Lesser one.
Hence the desperate effort to do it faster, send more qi, and clear the obstructions, the turbid qi, along those pathways.
This was also why one was advised to begin training as early as possible. As you aged, you consumed more varied things, and turbid qi accumulated in the body.
‘Of course, with my Nine-Orifice Body, I was born full of turbid qi with holes in my dantian.’
In any case, how long did it typically take to complete one circulation?
It varied depending on accumulation versus application, but for a beginner learning martial arts, assuming a prodigy from a prestigious orthodox sect, in the first or second year, even barely succeeding at a Lesser Heavenly Circuit took about half a shi, roughly one hour, for accumulation, and roughly one quarter-shi, about fifteen minutes, for application.
At the absolute realm, completing a Lesser Heavenly Circuit application took about the time to count to five.
But Mao was different.
“Now, try breaking this tree.”
“Okay.”
FWIP, CRACK!
Without any preparatory stance, a sharp crack echoed and the old tree splintered.
Creeeak, THUD!
It took exactly the time to blink once.
Completing a Lesser Heavenly Circuit application in less than counting to one.
More astonishing, he’d never properly learned a cultivation method.
Just breathing accomplished both accumulation and application. A truly god-given constitution.
Hearing only this much, Mao seemed qualified to become the greatest under heaven.
But unfortunately, martial arts encompassed more than this.
Jang I-seo clicked his tongue and spoke again.
“Now, try cutting this tree beside it with your hand.”
“With my hand?”
Mao furrowed his brow and looked at his own palm. Was that even possible? It wasn’t as if he had a blade growing from his hand.
But there was definitely a way. Send internal qi into the hand blade, condense it, and it became hand qi.
Then you could cut not just wood, but stone cliffs.
The problem was that very few in the Gangho could actually do it.
Jang I-seo gestured for him to hurry. Mao nodded and shouted.
“Here goes!”
FWIP, CRACK!
Mao struck the old tree with a palm strike. The trunk caved in and toppled sideways.
Creeeak, THUD!
“Got it!”
Got what? I told you to cut, not smash. Jang I-seo shook his head vigorously. Mao looked at him like a puppy wanting praise, but fat chance. Jang I-seo hadn’t expected any better to begin with.
“Jang I-seo. I think I’m getting it. How about I just cut them all down?”
“Are you a lumberjack? Stop the nonsense and try knocking the tree down again. But without touching it.”
“A palm wind? That’s easy!”
Was it now? Certainly, given Mao’s internal energy and fully opened meridians, it should be easier than lying down and watching stars.
But.
“Here goes!”
FWIIISH, POP!
Mao’s fist stopped right in front of the tree. FWOOOSH! Nothing but a refreshing breeze that scattered fallen leaves. The tree didn’t budge.
“Wait. Haha, what’s going on? Again.”
His pride stung, Mao threw another punch. Same result. Pitter-patter. Innocent leaves scattered.
“Again. Again. Again!”
Left hand, right hand, left hand. He punched relentlessly, but nothing changed.
‘He knows how to send qi out but can’t gather it, so the energy disperses and produces no real power.’
This was exactly the problem.
Achieving higher realms in martial arts meant starting from the basics and progressing through countless realizations.
But Mao had been born at an advanced stage.
So he didn’t even know these fundamental applications.
“Ah, what’s wrong? Didn’t eat enough today? Hahaha.”
“Eating servant rations and what. Now that you know it doesn’t work, come here.”
“Okay.”
Mao shuffled over, hesitant. Jang I-seo sighed and spoke firmly.
“Listen carefully. I’ll show you only once. Internal energy isn’t about sending it fast and hard. That can’t beat condensed force. Without losing a single drop, you must know how to delicately, preciously emit it where you want and sustain it. That’s what makes it real. Like this.”
VWOOM! The impure internal energy in Jang I-seo’s body stirred and converged into his pressed index and middle fingers, his sword-fingers.
He thrust forward. PING!
With a sharp ring, a hole punched clean through the center of the tree.
“Oh…”
An application of emission technique, finger wind.
Jang I-seo flicked his sword-fingers again. A faint but visible murky blue qi trailed behind his fingertips like a line.
Mao stared, startled by the materialized energy.
This was fa-gi, the crystallized product of condensed qi that only a tiny number of masters could produce.
SWISH! When Jang I-seo drew his sword-fingers across the tree, a paper-thin blade mark appeared, as if cut by a famous sword.
“Wow, it actually cut!”
Right. That was cutting. What you did was smashing.
For Jang I-seo’s Nine-Orifice Body, fa-gi should have been impossible. But seeing is believing. Having already grasped the principle long ago, he’d pushed himself to demonstrate it in hopes of teaching Mao quickly.
Jang I-seo wiped cold sweat and spoke.
“Do you see the difference now?”
“Yeah. A little. But…”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“You… blood’s coming from your mouth. Black blood.”
“Gahk?!”
Damn it…
“Hey! Jang I-seo!”
Thud. Jang I-seo crumpled to the ground.
*
“Hey, you bastard! Wake up!”
Mao sprinted through the forest, drenched in sweat.
On his back, pale as a sheet, Jang I-seo hovered between life and death.
He’d overexerted himself.
His mind had already reached the pinnacle, but his body couldn’t keep up. He’d nearly suffered qi deviation. What a pathetic vessel.
“Ah, this is driving me crazy. Hey, don’t die! Get up!”
No matter how much he called, there was no response. Mao kept glancing back at Jang I-seo over his shoulder, desperately shouting.
Who asked him to demonstrate? He shows off on his own and then drops dead. What kind of bullshit was this?
“I’ll learn. I’ll learn, okay. I said I’ll do it. Or what, you teach me some peerless divine art and then die? Answer me. Answer me, Jang I-seo!”
‘Bastard… stop talking… it’s dizzying…’
Jang I-seo barely regained consciousness amid the droning noise. But even awake, his stomach churned and his vision swam. He spent a long time just breathing deeply.
It was only after about half a shi that he managed to pat Mao’s back and climb down.
“Are… you okay?”
Mao asked cautiously, face scrunched up.