Defying the Heavens Scholar - Chapter 19

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Reverse Heaven Sect Disciple, Episode 19

Episode 19. Qinglin.

After arriving in Sacheon, we traveled for some time before finally reaching our destination.
Sacheon was no flat expanse. Mountains that seemed to hold up the heavens rose in successive layers, and between them flowed a colossal river, winding like a serpent through the stone.
The water crashed through gorges as though tearing them open, then caught its breath in wide, lazy curves.
Forest grew along the river’s edge. It climbed the mountainsides, layering shadow upon shadow, while the earth beneath lay buried under moss and fallen leaves—its true face never revealed.
Even the humidity hung thick, as though woven from the very spirits of mountain and water.
And within those woods, in a place where the footprints of travelers had nearly vanished, at a remote edge that only those who knew the land could find—

Qinglin.

Kang No drew a long, measured breath against my back and spoke.

“This is the place.”

His voice was soft, yet beneath it ran a current of tense focus.
He did not turn his head. Instead, the bridge of his nose trembled, barely perceptible.
With each inhalation, his breathing came short and measured, as though he were drawing the very grain of the air through his senses.

“There’s no mistaking it. Qinglin carries a scent unlike any other forest.”

With that, Kang No began to examine the scent of Qinglin with even greater focus.

“But the vital energy here is strange.”

I halted mid-step.
The sensation beneath my foot was wrong. The moss, which should have been damp, gave a faint resistance.
As though a thin membrane lay over the earth itself, an invisible force pushed back against my sole.
Kang No exhaled softly.

“In my days at my master’s side, I studied the Formation Array Technique a little.”

When he served as Man Tong’s disciple, his claim of learning “a little” meant he had experienced through his fingertips what others would read in dozens of volumes.
Kang No descended from my back and began to examine the ground. His fingers did not grope at the soil. Instead, they traced the air, the moisture, the faint tremors across the fallen leaves. After a moment—

“The Forgotten Direction Array.”

At his words, my eyes turned downward of their own accord.
Kang No’s hand pressed slowly upon my shoulder.

“It means no harm. It merely turns travelers back.”
“The Forgotten Direction Array—an array that strips away one’s sense of direction.”

As I spoke while studying the ground, Kang No smiled with quiet satisfaction and nodded.

“Those studies in that man’s chamber were not wasted effort, then.”
“You give me too much credit.”
“Do you think you could break through it? I studied the theory but never learned the methods of Array Breaking. Even if I had, seeing nothing ahead would make it difficult. But you—you have some skill in Array Breaking, don’t you?”

The mysterious master I met in Musim Cave was truly an extraordinary being.
How startled I had been when, in so brief a span, he expounded upon the Yellow Court Vein Scripture—and did so by drawing comparisons to the flow of water itself.
And what of the Natural Transformation Sword Technique of the Huashan Sect? Though I could not confirm its depths without eyes, the fact that Heouk Linwi—to whom he transmitted the method of breaking it—was taken aback surely meant it was a formidable technique indeed.

‘A mind as sharp as his could surely manage this.’

I rose and fixed my gaze forward.
A forest shrouded in thick mist. Before it, my breath deepened once.

“I’ll attempt to break the array.”

* * *

I picked up a pebble from the ground. Rolling it across my palm, I gauged its weight and wiped away the dampness on its surface. A stone doesn’t lie. A person’s feet can waver with intent and stumble, but a stone simply rolls where it’s thrown.
I rolled the stone forward. It tumbled through fallen leaves and came to rest on level ground where nothing should have stopped it.
It didn’t stop—it was made to stop.

I rolled another stone in the same direction. This time it halted sooner, with greater force.
I steadied my breath once and tried rolling it sideways. This time it didn’t stop.
It curved smoothly, tracing its edge along an invisible boundary—like water spiraling around an unseen ridge.

‘Central pull…… perimeter guidance.’

I retrieved an old hemp rope from my pack, the kind used for binding bundles.

“I need to bind your wrist loosely for a moment.”
“Why?”
“The Forgotten Direction Array strips away one’s sense of direction, and that loss of bearings becomes an impulse to turn back. Without meaning to, my feet might pivot.”

I loosely connected the cord between Kang No’s wrist and mine.
Then, keeping my feet planted, I shifted my weight alone.

Half a chi.

My sole scraped thinly against the earth.

Another half chi.

This time I didn’t slide—my foot was drawn backward, barely perceptibly, as though pulled by an unseen force at my heel.

‘The direction of the pull…… is backward.’

The Forgotten Direction Array contains the Life Path that leads forward and the Death Path that turns one back upon themselves.
Only by distinguishing these perfectly could I break it.
I snapped off a tree branch and tapped the ground again.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

The earth swallowed the sound. Where the barrier lay, it echoed back faintly.
And as I tapped, the resistance shifted. Some places pushed back gently; others pulled with subtle force.
Each tap caught just barely, like the gentlest snag of a hook.
I rolled another stone—this time not merely rolling, but with purpose.
I marked where it stopped using the branch’s end. I marked where the second stone halted as well.
A third, a fourth. I threw from slightly different angles each time, marking every stopping point.

As leaf litter fell away, the earth revealed an accumulating pattern of marks.
Connecting them, a single curve emerged.
What had seemed to run straight bent slightly, gathering toward the same direction.

“The Absorption Point is only one.”

At my words, Kang No thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“But finding it won’t be easy.”
“That’s true. Which is why what comes next matters.”

I traced a thin line across the dirt with my finger.
A line connecting the points. It led toward the roots of a thick tree nearby.
All living things carry Qi flowing through them, and trees are no exception.
And where Qi flows, a Formation Array can hide and breathe upon that current.

I cleared only the barest layer of moss around the tree.
Dig too deep and the Formation Array might scatter and tangle. If that happened, I’d have to start this whole process over.
So I only checked the compression of the moss and the thinning of the dampness.
That’s when something small wedged between the fallen leaves caught my eye.
A cut Bamboo Peg. The length of one finger joint. The end was smooth as if sliced by a blade.

‘Artificial.’

In a natural forest, there’d be no reason for a piece like this to be lodged here.

A marker for a Formation’s Vital Point.

Hidden out of sight, but the craftsmanship was too precise—it actually left behind a small trace.
I carefully extracted the Bamboo Peg.
At that moment, a sharp wrongness wrapped around my body.
I was so startled I nearly stepped back without thinking. But then the thick fog began to lift slowly.
The strange ringing that had numbed my ears gradually faded away.

‘Did I break the Array?’

Even I couldn’t be certain of Man Tong’s Formation Array.
But fortunately, as a moment passed, my sense of direction returned to normal.
I could now clearly perceive that forward was forward, and backward was backward.
I rolled the Pebble again. This time it didn’t stop.
It rolled straight until it caught on a rock beneath the fallen leaves and came to a natural halt.

‘I’ve escaped the Formation Array’s influence.’

I stepped forward slowly.

“It seems the Forgotten Direction Array has been broken.”

Kang No didn’t answer. Instead, he tapped my shoulder quietly.

“My master’s formations were always like that. He knew how to turn people away without killing them.”

Before those words had finished, the forest’s air changed again.
The fog rose like a wall, and this time it reached not for my sense of direction, but toward the terror of my past.

‘Now… is it the Illusory Punishment Array?’

The fog parted. I was there again.
Damp stone walls, the smell of blood and mold mingled together.
Sitting on a narrow floor, my hands copying characters all day long.
Why, when night fell, my fingers went numb but I couldn’t stop.

— Copy it.

That voice echoed from the wall. It had no face. Having no face made it worse.
With a person, you can read their expression, gauge their breath, find an opening.
But here there were no openings. The door was shut, and time stretched thick and slow.
Back then, I always thought the same thing. That I might die today.

The sound of the door opening alone made my heart sink.
I couldn’t tell if those footsteps were coming to feed me or to break my neck.
Night was crueler. In the silence, I couldn’t even discern whether death was drawing near or receding.
My breath stopped.

The Illusory Punishment Array was no mere echo of memory.
It preserved that terror intact, wringing my lungs, seizing my heart.

The iron door appeared again. Thick. Unyielding.
The moment that door swung open had always meant death to me then.
My fingertips trembled. My instincts screamed at me to prostrate myself on the floor. Hide. Beg. Keep my head bowed.
But in that instant, I thought with absolute clarity.

‘I am no longer who I was then.’

The Nameless Heart Method. And the countless martial arts I had cultivated within the reversed formation.
Emotion does not kill me—it is my surrender to that emotion that seeks my destruction.

‘I won’t allow it.’

I drew a deep breath and released it slowly.
My heart still surged, but I no longer obeyed its command.

I stood before the iron door. Whatever lay beyond—it was not death to me now, but only what came next.
I placed my palm against the cold metal.
There was no need to explode with force; the Illusory Punishment Array deepens when you try to break it through strength.
Instead, I simply brought my true self to bear.

‘What imprisoned me was never the door itself. I feared, and so the fear became my cage.’

I pushed against the iron door.

Creak.

Metal groaned. The sound scattered through the solitary cell’s stale air.
I pushed harder.

Bang!

The door swung wide open.
In that moment, the cell’s reek shattered into nothing.
Walls fractured. Darkness tore. The suffocating pressure scattered like broken glass.

* * *

The mist of Qinglin was slowly lifting. With it came a sweet fragrance that seized my senses.
As I breathed it in, my legs began to give way. My eyelids felt so heavy I wanted to collapse right here and sleep.

‘…Kang No.’

But a moment’s will anchored me. Instinctively, I tried to turn.
My vision flickered. My body tilted of its own accord.
My fingers found moss, but there was no strength left. Consciousness pulled downward into the ground.
In that instant, I forced my eyes open and looked up into empty air.

An old man.
An old man with neatly arranged white hair looked down at me with an expression of perfect indifference.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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