Chapter 292: Great Ming (5)
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I considered one hypothesis. The accepted view was that the Mad Buddha had fallen into deviation and gone mad. That was why I too had asked the Mad Buddha how he had escaped deviation.
But the Mad Buddha had answered that part evasively. He had simply said that the formation’s demonic qi had acted upon his deviation and released it.
At the time I had thought it a somewhat convincing explanation, but it had still been ambiguous.
My hypothesis began from the idea that the Mad Buddha had never fallen into deviation in the first place. He was simply an evil man by nature.
Only an evil man could explain blocking the escape of everyone who entered here.
In that case, the Mad Buddha had made some mistake and, to silence witnesses to that mistake, wiped out an entire village. Then Shaolin, to avoid responsibility, spread the story that the Mad Buddha had fallen into deviation.
With the premise that the Mad Buddha was mad, the greatest danger right now was Myeong-gyeong, the outsider standing alone before the Forbidden City.
I hoped I was wrong, but my sad premonitions had never once missed.
“Damn it.”
Myeong-gyeong was not outside the Forbidden City. Even when I spread out my energy sense to search, I found nothing. Anxiety burned in my chest.
Had I been too complacent? To leave Myeong-gyeong behind in an unknown space full of people of unknown origin and move on alone.
But regret always came too late. What mattered was recovering from regret as quickly as possible.
The more moments like this, the more I must not thrash about in excitement. I had to hold to reason, find traces as best I could, and move on that basis.
“Hoo.”
Calm down. The more impossible it was to stay calm, the more I had to calm down.
I opened my eyes as wide as possible and looked around. If this were the real Beijing, the real Forbidden City, finding traces would be impossible. But this was not the real Forbidden City.
First I went to where Myeong-gyeong had been and looked around. Faint footprints were visible. I could track on that basis.
At first there were only wandering footprints, but deeper marks soon appeared. They were traces of internal energy being used.
‘Was there reason to use internal energy?’
If he had only wandered alone, there would have been no reason to use it. Something had clearly happened, and that was why he had used it.
I looked around. Following Myeong-gyeong’s footprints, I ended up below the wall with the feeling I had watched from hiding.
Watching from hiding meant someone had come to the Forbidden City. Looking around the Forbidden City, I found large footprints that seemed recently made. They were clearly an adult’s.
Those adult footprints wandered erratically. Judging from how deeply each step sank, I could read the man’s temperament.
‘Even better.’
Because they were deep, they were far easier to track than Myeong-gyeong’s light steps.
I traced the footprints from the Five Gates with as much care as possible. The footprints led toward the Martial Valor Hall.
As I drew near the Martial Valor Hall, I finally heard sleeves fluttering, soles scraping against the ground, and the other sounds martial artists made when they clashed. From that point there was no need to follow footprints. I hurled myself forward at once.
In the real Forbidden City it would have been unthinkable, but I ran across the walls toward the Martial Valor Hall.
From far away I could see Myeong-gyeong and the Mad Buddha fighting. No matter how talented Myeong-gyeong was, he was still unbloomed. His left shoulder hung as though dislocated, and blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.
I leapt high at once and threw Bright Elegance down between the Mad Buddha and Myeong-gyeong.
Shwick!
The sword flew so fast it made the sound of an arrow in flight.
The Mad Buddha and Myeong-gyeong looked up at the same time.
Boom!
The sword plunged deep into the ground with a tremendous roar. I had thrown it packed with internal energy, so that was only natural.
The Mad Buddha fell back some distance. I immediately guarded the space before Myeong-gyeong. The hilt of Bright Elegance, buried in the ground, trembled violently.
“Are you all right, Senior Brother?”
I glanced at Myeong-gyeong from the corner of my eye. The Mad Buddha before me was not an opponent to lower my guard against.
“…More or less.”
Myeong-gyeong answered as though it were nothing, then promptly doubled over and spat blood. His internal injuries seemed deep. If I did not treat him quickly, there would be lasting damage.
“Understood.”
“Sorry. I moved on my own for nothing.”
“No. You must have had your reasons.”
I knew Myeong-gyeong now. He was not simply reckless. He was a thoughtful child. He must have had a reason for chasing the Mad Buddha.
“You are of the Wudang Sect as well.”
The Mad Buddha before me spoke. His clenched fist glowed gold.
“And yet you pretended to be sane before me.”
“I am sane even now.”
“Then wiping out a whole village in the first place was also done while sane, I suppose?”
“You catch on quickly.”
The Mad Buddha readily admitted it. My hypothesis had not been wrong. The Mad Buddha had never been mad in the first place. He had simply been that sort of man from the beginning.
“Junior Brother, there are people inside the Martial Valor Hall.”
“People, you say.”
The latch was set. Even without hearing more, I could tell they had not been locked away for any good reason.
“I have something to ask.”
I looked at the Mad Buddha. He smirked. Now he did not even seem inclined to hide his malice and killing intent.
“How many have you killed here?”
“Who knows.”
The Mad Buddha tilted his head.
“Must I remember every trifling thing one by one?”
“Yes, yes. That’s how it should be.”
I drew Bright Elegance from the ground. How many people he had killed did not matter to me either. What mattered was that the Mad Buddha was blocking my path.
If anyone blocked my path, I need only cut them down.
Further conversation was unnecessary. The Mad Buddha seemed to feel the same.
When I lifted my chin slightly, the Mad Buddha was already charging with his fist drawn back. The golden-shining fist announced that it was Shaolin fist art.
I blocked that blow with Bright Elegance raised. Blade and fist collided, and my hand went numb. The Mad Buddha’s fist was not injured in the least.
“Not easy.”
I had sensed from the start that facing the Mad Buddha would not be easy. After all, the title of surviving martial-world criminal meant he was strong enough to have survived pursuit by the entire martial world.
By Wudang’s measure, he was someone of the Blue Character generation. Someone around Shaolin elder rank could hardly be weak.
I immediately unfolded the Flowing Cloud Sword Art. It was a sword I had not drawn in a long time. Shaolin fist art was upright and straight. Wudang sword art was soft, so it was appropriate to use now.
“So you really were Wudang’s horse’s mouth!”
The Mad Buddha laughed loudly and pressed forward with his fist art. I had faced fist-wielding opponents before, but fights between fist artists and sword artists usually became distance battles.
Fist artists tried to close distance with sword artists as much as possible, while sword artists tried to widen it as much as possible. But Shaolin fist art was different. It was as though they thrust their fists like swords.
Certainly a fist artist was stronger if there was distance to extend a fist. But that only favored the sword artist, so closing distance was all they did.
Shaolin, however, had confidence in the power of their own fist art, so they fought sword artists at equal distance.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Every time the Mad Buddha thrust his fist, the air-splitting boom of ruptured atmosphere rang out.
I watched for an opening and unleashed New Moon. The sword path advancing like a crescent moon flew swiftly as though to cleave the Mad Buddha’s body.
But the Mad Buddha pressed his wrists together as though shooting a palm blast, spread both palms wide, then curled his fingers into a hand like the Eight Hot Hells. His hand flashed golden.
Boom!
The first form of the Hunwon Muhui Sword Art, New Moon, collided with the Mad Buddha’s palm and produced a thunderous roar. When the dust cleared, a line of blood was visible. At most I had left a small sword wound on his palm.
“Hah!”
Though the Mad Buddha and I were far apart, he thrust a fist at me from where he stood.
I instinctively set Bright Elegance upright. A heavy shock struck my blade, and I was driven back in a long slide.
‘This is Shaolin’s ultimate technique, the Hundred-Step Divine Fist.’
The Mad Buddha had clearly been a prodigy even within Shaolin. That was probably why he had survived even after being branded a martial-world criminal.
“Hoh. You have good instinct for one so young.”
The Mad Buddha clicked his tongue.
“At your age, with martial skill like that, you would make quite a name for yourself outside.”
“You could fairly call me the hottest potato in the Central Plains.”
“Heh heh. It sounds like an obnoxious boast, but you are more than worthy of it.”
It was not a boast. It was true. Of course, I had become the hottest potato more because of my position as leader of the New Justice Association than because of my martial skill alone.
The Mad Buddha charged again. Fists poured down like a storm. Fist shadows appeared faintly, but every one of those shadows was real. That was how fast and strong Shaolin fist art was.
I tried to cover all the fist shadows with Flowing Clouds Reach Ten Thousand Zhang. But the sword curtain of Flowing Clouds Reach Ten Thousand Zhang was battered by the Mad Buddha’s fist art and soon shattered.
‘If Senior Brother had faced him even half a notch longer, he would have died.’
Perhaps the Mad Buddha had been toying with Myeong-gyeong. He was that skilled.
Even so, my sword did not fail to keep up. The Mad Buddha’s fists and my sword exchanged hundreds of blows. Before long, the Mad Buddha and I stood with both feet planted on the ground, trading fist and blade.
We faced each other using only the movements of sword and fist, without the artistry of forms. Because we both had confidence in our fundamentals, it was an exchange we could meet.
“It has been a while since I met an opponent worth giving my full strength!”
The Mad Buddha laughed. Even if he was a mad evil man, the root of a martial artist was much the same. He felt pleasure when he could bring out his full strength.
As I met the Mad Buddha’s fists, I thought again of the Great Chieftain’s words in the Great Desert. The importance of well-trained external arts.
Shaolin’s fists were hard in internal energy as well, but that was built upon strong external arts. Experiencing firsthand how threatening it was when external and internal arts accompanied each other made the Great Chieftain’s words sink deeper into my heart.
Right now I was using only internal energy. I had never once matched external arts against the Mad Buddha. Against someone who had trained external arts for decades, I was bound to lose, so I had kept colliding in internal-energy combat instead.
But like this, it seemed there would be no conclusion. Fortunately, I had one more card left to play.
Compared to the Mad Buddha I was still far lacking, but I had never once used my external arts.
The union of internal and external arts. If external arts were lacking, I need only make up for them with internal energy.
The Mad Buddha’s fist came in to shatter my ribs. And the trajectory of that fist could break ribs, yet it was not aimed at a vital point or extreme acupoint.
I opened my eyes wide and gathered internal energy strongly around my ribs. When I instead thrust my chest forward, the Mad Buddha’s expression changed.
He had read my intent in the sudden shift. But a fist already extended could not be easily withdrawn. For a brief moment the Mad Buddha fell into a trance of sword-and-fist exchange.
I, on the other hand, kept my reason cold and clear.
Thud!
I clenched my teeth hard. With the sound of my ribs shattering, blood rose in my throat.
But the Mad Buddha’s body was open. I immediately pressed my sword horizontally, then drove it straight forward in a line.
The second initial form of the Hunwon Muhui Sword Art, Extreme. At this close range, Extreme was not a speed the Mad Buddha, his body open, could evade.
“…Huh.”
The Mad Buddha lowered his head and looked at his own chest. A hole the size of a coin had been pierced where his heart was.
“Impressive.”
The Mad Buddha left only that one word and collapsed forward.
The martial-world criminal who had thrown the Central Plains into terror years ago drew his last breath in the Great Desert, far from the Central Plains.