Defying the Heavens Scholar - Chapter 8

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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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Against Heaven’s Will, Episode 8

Episode 8. The Unnamed Heart Method. (Three).

A year had slipped away without my noticing.
In the world outside, a year had passed; but the time that flowed through me was so tedious and endless that I couldn’t even measure it.
Yet within that boredom, I studied countless martial techniques and made them my own.
And in the end, I succeeded.

I had broken through the Ziran Hua Jing.

“You’ve worked hard.”

Kang No’s gaunt hand patted my shoulder gently.
It was brief encouragement, but his fingertips carried a subtle tremor and a weight that words could not express.
After studying my face for a moment, he took the Ziran Hua Jing scroll I’d handed him with care and walked toward the entrance of Musim Cave.
I watched his receding figure, then slowly turned my steps back toward my quarters.

‘The Ziran Hua Jing—it truly was a sword technique of such perfection that it defied prediction.’

Unraveling the Ziran Hua Jing had been punishingly difficult.
For the first month, I couldn’t even grasp its flow. The sword forms were far more abstruse than I’d imagined; I didn’t dare attempt to follow them.
It was instinct. If I mimicked them carelessly, I knew I couldn’t prevent Demonic Possession.
After becoming accustomed to the flow, I spent half a year calculating its trajectories endlessly.
That too was far from simple. The Ziran Hua Jing was a sword technique that bloomed into countless permutations—one blade splitting into ten paths, ten blades into a hundred, creating thousands of possibilities in an instant.
A technique of such profound elegance as Huashan itself, where roots spread downward and branches fan upward, generating innumerable variations.

‘Damn it, there are too many flows to calculate…!’

A curse escaped my lips.
Juggling these calculations alongside my continued cultivation consumed time with mindless profligacy.
Eventually, I committed every variation of the sword to memory, and devoted the remaining period to breaking through it.
This too was supremely difficult.
The countless blade paths I traced in my mind tried to kill me; with each movement I confronted, I faced vivid death again and again.

Only then did I truly grasp the power of the Unnamed Heart Method.
A heart method that embraces all contradictions.
I could cast off the terror of the blade paths that endlessly consumed me because the qi of countless martial meridians sustained me.
I reinforced my external form with Shaolin qi, cultivated my inner being with Daoist qi, and forcibly cast aside fear with Demonic Sect qi.
Had even one of these been absent, I might have perished to Demonic Possession long ago.

In that crucible, I discovered something.
A subtle discord where flow met flow.

‘If here I were to layer flow upon flow again… if I deliberately blocked an adjacent flow, binding two great currents into one…?’

I twisted one flow and deliberately hollowed it out.
Then the blade paths collided against each other, triggering a transformation.

‘Ah…’

Every blade path in the void scattered to pieces.
No matter how I calculated, the imagined sword never found its strength again.
A single void had brought everything crashing down.

‘At last…’

That was the final punctuation mark to a year of relentless struggle.

‘Still, thanks to it all, I’ve made progress myself.’

The reason being that I’d gained insight into the Unnamed Heart Method alongside him.

‘If the Minor Accomplishment stage prevents the clash of energies and harmonizes them within the body, then the Major Accomplishment stage must be the realm where one can release that harmonized energy as desired.’

It seemed I would soon be able to employ martial arts from Buddhism, Daoism, and the Demonic Sect all at once.
Perhaps when I reached the Extreme Accomplishment stage, I could unlock even greater capabilities.

* * *

Lying on the bed, I shook my head heavily.
Fortunately the Formation Technique had allowed me to unravel the Ziran Hua Jing; without it, I would have been lost not just for a year, but for many years more.
The moment I closed my eyes, the tangled threads woven within the Ziran Hua Jing reappeared before me. Frustration drummed against my chest.
Though I had spent countless hours absorbing martial knowledge from innumerable texts and storing them in my mind, ever since encountering the Ziran Hua Jing, all of it felt pathetically inadequate. I also found myself acutely aware of my own shortcomings.
There was no end to martial study, and the effort and determination these masters had poured across so many lifetimes truly transcended the limits of human capability.

“Ah……”

A sigh escaped me, born of nothing I could name.
I tried to suppress the frustration by sweeping the lines from my mind, but the more I struggled, the more the Ziran Hua Jing writhed and flickered before my eyes like something alive.
I sat up and stared blankly at the floor. Then, seeking to push down the oppressive feeling, I picked up a brush.
Recalling the Formation Technique burned into my memory—the one that the Zhuge Family member had left behind—I began slowly drawing it on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

I’d been so absorbed that I hadn’t noticed Kang No standing before my quarters.

“Just now…… I was drawing something.”

At my words, Kang No’s bound eyes twitched as he bent down.
The rich scent of ink rose from the floor. It was so potent that Kang No straightened up, his brow creasing.

“What are you drawing that the scent of ink rises so strongly from the floor?”

I answered him carefully.

“I’ve become interested in several Formation Techniques that the young master of the Zhuge Family had drawn…… and was trying my hand at them while resting.”

Kang No shook his head and let out a sigh.

“So you’ve taken an interest in Formation Techniques too, have you?”
“Shouldn’t I learn and practice something whenever I have even a moment to spare? I never know when they might entrust me with something I haven’t yet imagined.”

My words seemed to ease his expression.

“Just don’t try to master too much all at once. Time’s already scarce for diving deep into one well. Your body must stay sound first.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kang No studied me for a moment, then turned to leave.

“Since they’ve taken with them the Ziran Hua Jing you cracked, things should be quiet for a while. Regardless of the result, you’ve worked hard these past days.”
“Thank you, sir.”

As he headed toward his quarters, I looked down again at the Formation Technique lines I’d drawn on the floor.

‘If I manage to escape this place, I must take this Formation Technique with me above all else.’

For several days I devoted myself to studying the Zhuge Family’s Formation Techniques within the confines of that pattern.
Of course the purpose was research, but it was also to find a way to use his Formation Technique even outside of his chamber.
Yet it proved far more difficult than expected.
Whenever he tried to modify his Formation Technique within an already-completed formation, the formation would collapse on itself.
After discovering this constraint, he’d had no choice but to study his Formation Technique entirely within his mind.
Thousands of times—no, tens of thousands—he traced it through his thoughts, etching that complex formation into memory.

I steadied my breathing and picked up the brush, first identifying and marking the ’empty spaces’ between the lines. Then I laid down thin strokes where the ink’s bleeding served as the path, punctuating the points of resistance that would prevent the flow’s reversal.
Only at the end did I overlay the dotted lines to seal the void.
Small, yes—yet complete. A Miniature Formation.
I stepped forward with quickened breath, moving slowly into the completed Miniature Formation.

* * *

A dim candlelight flickered softly.
An aged desk bore an open leather-bound book, surrounded by papers stained with ink scattered in disorder.
At the center sat two figures: the commander of the Black Scale Guard, his face veiled in black cloth, and Yu Hyeon-gong. It was their usual place for private meetings, but today a third presence had joined them.

An old general whose white beard hung in neat rows. The oppressive weight of his sharp gaze alone seemed to compress the air in the room. This was Gyeong A-seong, known as the Imperial Sword, the foremost blade of the realm and ranked among the ten greatest masters of the Martial World.

“I’ve spent a fortnight examining it.”
“Y-yes, sir. You have.”

Yu Hyeon-gong bowed deeply, and the commander began organizing the papers on the desk. Countless lines drawn upon them. At first glance they appeared chaotic, tangled like a net.
Yet within that disorder, something like emptiness seemed to peer through.
The reason was not the lines themselves, but rather the intentional erasures—places where lines had been deliberately removed amid a chaos too complex for the eye to follow.
The commander studied this disorder for a moment, then shook his head and spoke.

“At first, I thought it a mere patch. Using flow to sever flow? It seemed crude.”

The commander pointed to another spot with his finger.

“But this is no severance at all. It is intentional emptiness—the arrangement of a void that causes the flow to extinguish itself.”

Gyeong A-seong, standing behind them, spoke in a low voice.

“It is the principle of flow turned against itself. Flowing gently as it may, the moment it converges at a single point, it ceases to be the same flow. This person did not merely perceive this—they proved it directly. This is no ordinary mind.”

At Gyeong A-seong’s words, the commander nodded, resting his chin in his hand.
As if eager for a more thorough explanation.
Seeing this, Gyeong A-seong stepped closer and began to explain, pointing to the disordered ink marks scattered across the paper.

“If the essence of the Ziran Hua Jing is swordplay utilizing flow, then this analysis and its counter-method represents the reverse application of that very flow. In short, they maintained the flow while creating microscopic voids, preventing it from ever reaching its terminus—severing the meridian at that precise point. And that meridian is here.”

At his words, the commander’s gaze and Yu Hyeon-gong’s gaze converged upon a single spot.
The microscopic void he had mentioned earlier.
That void alone created the difference in flow, preventing it from reaching its apex.

The commander’s brow relaxed, and he let out a low laugh.

“Hah! To render the Ziran Hua Jing—the preeminent swordplay of our age—powerless with nothing but a single microscopic void. Truly remarkable. No—beyond remarkable. It is astonishing.”

Yu Hyeon-gong added his voice.

“Moreover, this was achieved in merely a year. In truth, to analyze such a swordplay in so brief a span was thought impossible from the outset. Your orders were only to assess the degree of his ability. Yet not only has he provided the analysis—he has discovered the counter. I too am astounded.”

At his words, silence fell over the room.
Yet their gazes remained fixed upon the paper, brimming with ink.
Watching this atmosphere, Yu Hyeon-gong ventured a careful question.

“Then… what shall we do with him?”

A question layered with many implications. After a brief silence, the commander turned to Gyeong A-seong, who offered his assessment with measured caution.

“He is the one who broke the Ziran Hua Jing of the Huashan School. While we cannot yet confirm his method of dismantling it, his knowledge and technique suggest he is no ordinary person. Should he leave the Imperial Palace and become an enemy, he will become a grave threat in the years to come.”

The commander nodded slowly.

“Yet it would be wasteful to discard someone of such caliber so easily. Though the Ziran Hua Jing is said to be the Secret Treasure of the Huashan School, the Hidden Arts of the Demonic Sect and the Nine Great Schools are equally numerous. Besides, to trade someone like this merely for the Ziran Hua Jing… the Imperial Prince would never permit it.”

Yu Hyeon-gong, who had been listening intently, ventured another cautious question.

“Then, how shall we proceed with his… disposition?”

The commander rose slowly to his feet.

“Observe him for one more year.”
“I shall obey your command.”

Just as the meeting was concluding, a low, urgent report rang out from somewhere, freezing the air in the chamber.

“We have received word that a solitary master is advancing toward Musim Cave.”

The commander’s eyes flickered with alarm.

“The Protective Perimeter Formation has been breached?”

The Protective Perimeter Formation—the Black Scale Guard’s defensive network encircling Musim Cave.

“According to the dispatch, seven of the ten have already fallen.”
“How… How could information have been leaked?”

His sharp exclamation shattered the silence in the room. The commander’s mind raced through countless questions: Had they left a trail when extracting the Ziran Hua Jing? Or was there a spy within their ranks? Yet none of that mattered now. Only one thing was urgent.

The commander’s fist clenched. He spoke with absolute resolve.

“Understood.”

“Precisely—which is why we must not provoke a direct conflict.”

“Then what do you propose?”
“I do not know who this person is, but I shall go myself and resolve this. If necessary, I will take their head and silence them once and for all.”

When he said he would step in himself, the leader took a step back.
Who was he, after all? Though he now held the position of the Emperor’s right hand and the Imperial Palace’s foremost swordsman, thirty years ago he had been among the top ten masters of the Martial World, hadn’t he?

“I understand. For now, I’ll defer to your judgment.”

The moment the leader gave his assent, Gyeong A-seong launched himself forward.

* * *

It was flawless.
The Formation Technique had shrunk to half its original size, yet its efficacy remained intact.

“Lucky, indeed.”

As I gazed down at the formation with satisfaction, something indefinable began to prickle at my awareness.

‘What is this?’

“Don’t you feel this aura, sir?”

“An aura, you say……?”

He thrust his hand beneath the mat and began pulling something out frantically.
A faint bell-chime rang out.
The bell had clearly sounded, yet no answer came from anywhere. Kang No gripped my shoulder urgently.

As we ran, Kang No’s grave voice cut through my thoughts.

“Something grave? But what—?”
“Someone has discovered Musim Cave.”
“Discovered it? What happens then?”

Kang No descended to the floor and moved along the eastern wall’s edge, feeling his way forward until he came to a halt at a particular point.
Then he began tapping the wall gently. A fine crack appeared, widening with each strike. Kang No gestured toward me.

“Can you force this crack open?”
“I’ll try.”

At my words, Kang No stepped back five paces and listened intently.
I then gathered all my strength and pushed against the crack.
But it had been sealed for so long that it refused to yield easily.
Steadying my breath again, I carefully circulated my inner force with precision.
The crack began to shift open, slowly spreading to either side.

Stale air washed over my face.
The reek of old mold was so foul that I couldn’t help but wrinkle my brow.
The space beyond was dark and dreary. Air seemed to be leaking from somewhere, suggesting a passage existed, yet the darkness was so complete that I couldn’t make out anything.

“Go inside.”

At Kang No’s command, I took his hand.
Then I slowly stepped forward into the darkness.
Once inside, Kang No spoke to me again.

“Somewhere to the left, you’ll find an iron chain. Pull it.”

I nodded and carefully felt along the wall.
After a moment, my hand found a thick metal chain.
The chain, too, refused to budge easily.
Once more, I channeled my inner force delicately and pulled.
The wall’s crack began to close slowly. As the stone door shut completely, my eyes flew wide open.

“How is this…… the wall……”

The wall was transparent. The clarity was so striking, like looking from underwater into the world above.

“It’s a wall carved from precious Jade Stone. That’s why those inside can see out so clearly.”

I stared at the wall with an odd expression and asked again.

“But what is this place?”
“An emergency refuge, prepared for contingencies.”

As I swallowed hard, Kang No exhaled slowly and continued.

“The ones who guard Musim Cave are no ordinary men. I can’t say exactly how many there are, but what’s certain is that each one is formidable. If such men have gone silent without word…”
“Then someone stronger must have appeared.”
“Precisely. This has never happened before. My suspicion is that the destruction of the Ziran Hua Jing Scripture you achieved last time is the cause.”

At his words, I had to swallow again.

“You mean…… the Huashan School has taken direct action?”
“How could it be otherwise? I don’t know what level of martial art the Ziran Hua Jing Scripture represents, but given that all this has followed its destruction, I’d wager nine to one it’s them.”

Just as we were about to continue, something powerful shook Musim Cave.

‘This aura…’

It was a formidable inner force. And a deep, heavy one at that.

‘How could such power be…’

What I knew of the Huashan School from my studies was a lineage both graceful and profound.
Yet this aura transcended that — sharp as the Yangtze’s assault upon the earth itself.

“They’ve arrived, it seems.”

Kang No tapped my shoulder.
At that signal, we fell silent.

* * *

A Daoist standing with unhurried dignity.
The long white beard grown beneath his chin resembled an immortal sage.
His worn azure robe spoke of countless years, while sharp, piercing eyes set within a gentle face lent him an air of rigorous integrity.

“At last you show yourself?”

The Daoist, speaking in low tones, walked toward the wide-open entrance of Musim Cave, then stood at the cliff’s edge and gazed down into the fathomless chasm below.
As he watched, faint afterimages began to materialize.
The speed of the figure ascending the cliff was so breathtaking that it seemed to glide across flat ground.
Observing this, the Daoist of Seonpung-do-gol recognized something familiar in the shape before him and stood waiting with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Aren’t you Gyeong A-seong, the Thousand-Sword, who vanished thirty years ago?”

At the Daoist’s words, Gyeong A-seong, facing him now, gave a slow nod.

“Long indeed since we’ve met. Eul-hae.”
“Heh. To find you in this place of all places…….”

Yet Eul-hae, called the First Blade of Huashan, understood well why this man—who had disappeared thirty years prior—had surfaced here now.

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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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