I Obtained Guan Yu's Martial Arts - Chapter 47

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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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Obtained Gwan U’s Martial Arts | Chapter 47
Hwang Cheon (2)
Gwan U’s jaw fell slack as he watched the battle unfold from Mid-Heaven.
“Huh!”
It was truly astonishing.
He had always known this boy possessed an exceptional talent for sensing and understanding Martial Arts.
But to awaken to the mysteries of Gravitational Force at such a young age…
And even younger than Gwan U himself had been in his prime.
‘A truly terrifying talent.’
Martial Arts cannot be mastered by raw genius alone.
First, there must be the bone-grinding effort of daily training; even during that cultivation, one must continuously apply the mind and seek enlightenment; and the sensations gained through countless real battles are equally vital.
In short, to excel at Martial Arts requires both talent and effort united.
By that measure, Gwan Hui was a talent born once in a thousand years.
‘…Old memories stir.’
Watching Gwan Hui swing the Crescent Moon Blade and fell dozens of cultists, Gwan U sank into reverie.
The second form of the Heavenly Extreme Cloud Destruction Blade.
Returning Heaven Crescent Slash.
A form where one grasps the shaft of the Crescent Moon Blade and sweeps it horizontally in a great circle.
Simple in appearance, but deployed while surrounded by enemies, it can turn the tide in a single motion.
In his prime, Gwan U himself had earned considerable renown on the battlefield with this very form.
‘It is like watching myself as a boy.’
Gwan U was a man sparing with praise.
Of course, his nature had changed greatly over the five hundred years spent in Mid-Heaven, but in the past, he had never offered his own son a single genuine word of commendation.
Yet now, even Gwan U could not withhold his praise.
The exceptional valor this later generation displayed was precisely the equal of Gwan U himself in his prime.
‘A commander’s exploits devour the enemy’s morale itself.’
Overwhelmed by Gwan Hui’s forms, the cultists of Hwang Cheon stumbled backward, trembling with fear.
All of them had been seized by terror at that tremendous martial might—dozens of warriors hewn in two by a single stroke.
No matter how devoted a fanatic might be, when you see a man split in half before your eyes, fear is inevitable.
‘Excellent.’
Gwan U nodded with a satisfied smile.
Now he could see that this later generation was executing the first four forms of the Heavenly Extreme Cloud Destruction Blade with near-perfect precision.
Which meant the boy was ready to learn the remaining three forms.
‘Once this affair is finished, I must teach him a new martial discipline. Which art would suit best, I wonder.’
Watching this later generation absorb martial knowledge like a bottomless vessel, Gwan U felt anticipation kindle within him for the first time in a very long while.
He did not notice it himself, but a smile of considerable satisfaction had settled upon his lips.

* * *
“Haaah!”
Jang Seong, master of the Absolute Shadow Blade, brought his sword down in a hearty arc, bisecting his foe.
Before a single drop of blood could spray, he withdrew and fixed his gaze upon the next enemy—clean, efficient work.
Swift and sharp, Jang Seong’s blade technique cut through the crowd, and the cultists began to fall one by one.
“Huurgh… huurgh…”
Yet Jang Seong’s own condition was far from good.
While each individual opponent fell beneath his skill, their sheer numbers posed a problem.
As he struck at one, three or four more came at his back, launching their attacks.
Unless his eyes were on the back of his head, he could not block every assault.
“Dammit!”
A cold, murderous pressure emanated from behind him.
Jang Seong rolled across the ground without hesitation.
Rip!
The fabric of his tunic tore, and a searing sensation blazed across his body.
A fake cultist’s blade had left a thin line of blood across Jang Seong’s back.
‘That was close.’
Had his reaction been even a moment slower, the blade would have carved a fatal wound across his spine.
He might never have walked again—his vertebrae severed clean through.
‘Damn it all.’
Jang Seong cast a sideways glance toward Jang Cho San.
He still sat in lotus position, pouring all his concentration into dissolving the Formation Array.
‘Would it be better just to run?’
Cowardly as it was, the method remained undeniably efficient.
One death—Jang Cho San—was preferable to four: Gwan Hui, Jang Seong, Hwang So So, and Ju Ho.
Caught in that thought, Jang Seong’s gaze drifted toward Gwan Hui.
…….
And in the moment he watched Gwan Hui fight, every cowardly thought that had filled his mind evaporated.
‘……Beautiful.’
With each sweep of the Crescent Moon Blade, Gwan Hui cut down three or four foes, advancing with unparalleled valor—and it was truly beautiful to witness.
A crane among chickens, exactly.
He made it luminously clear to the world that he was not some ordinary foot soldier.
Crunch—
Shame flooded through Jang Seong, and his teeth ground together.
Hwang So So fought to protect Jang Cho San, launching arrow after arrow with fierce dedication, while Ju Ho hid within the collapsed pavilion, hurling stones to harass the enemy as best he could.
Everyone was fighting with all their strength from their position, yet Jang Seong alone had been scheming escape.
“……Still so far behind.”
His face burned at the ugliness of his own reflection.
What difference was there between himself and his younger brother?
What separated him now from that time at Yangjia Manor, when pride had choked his blade?
‘Do as he does. Watch him and follow.’
Jang Seong’s eyes fixed on Gwan Hui’s back.
The boy bore countless wounds—small and large—scattered across his body, the enemy numbers giving him no quarter.
Yet his back remained unmarred.
He had faced every foe head-on, fighting with such conviction that no enemy could land a blow to his back.
Unlike Jang Seong himself, who had been entertaining thoughts of flight, hesitant and halfhearted—whose spine now bore a jagged scar for his cowardice.
“From now on, you’re my target.”
Jang Seong’s eyes burned with fierce emotion as he watched Gwan Hui.
Younger than himself, true, and lacking in cultivation.
Yet seeing the master of Gwan House—so much greater than himself—Jang Seong took another step forward.
Never Retreat in Battle, they called it.
To face conflict without yielding, to advance with life hanging in the balance.
His jaw set firm, Jang Seong moved forward, step by deliberate step.
His blade no longer wavered, carving brilliant arcs through the empty air.
.
.
.
“We—we’ve done it!”
A cry tore from Jang Seong’s parched throat.
Some two hundred heretics now lay as cold corpses scattered across the ground.
Three of them had brought down all two hundred.
Given what men say of numbers, it was an achievement that defied belief.
“……I nearly died from exhaustion.”
A heavy sigh escaped Hwang So So’s lips.
The arrows she had brought, carefully gathered, were long spent; her fingertips had split from drawing the bowstring and were stained red with blood.
A lonely fight waged against enemies who came in waves.
This was her first experience of such combat.
She still could not believe they had won.
‘Fifty, perhaps.’
Though Hwang So So had brought seventy arrows, she had only felled fifty foes.
Overwhelmed by their numbers, she had fallen short of her usual skill.
‘……Without his power, we would have lost.’
Both Hwang So So and Jang Seong had fought earnestly, yet under the crushing weight of those numbers, both had lost their composure and shown themselves diminished from their usual strength.
Gwan Hui was different.
He had displayed power far exceeding his norm—overwhelming force that had felled more than half of the two hundred warriors.
Facing such dominance, even the cultists had retreated in terror, toppling like bamboo shoots, until it was scarcely an exaggeration to say Gwan Hui had defeated them all alone.
It was a moment that revealed a truth: mindset mattered more than technique.
…….
Hwang So So, her face flushed, gazed at the muddy ground now thick with blood.
Two sets of footprints had retreated in fear; one set had pressed forward, unwavering.
“Hmm.”
Gwan Hui tilted his head, shaking the blood from his Crescent Moon Blade.
“Why is she just standing there?”
An uneasy feeling swept across his shoulders.
While two hundred disciples died, that so-called cult leader merely watched from a distance.
There was no sign of moving closer, nor did he seem to be retreating.
To the naked eye, he looked like nothing more than a curious passerby.
“Well. Once we’re gone, it hardly matters.”
Gwan Hui shrugged lightly.
The intentions of men about to die weren’t worth much thought anyway.
Cut them all down, whatever they’d prepared—that was all there was to it.

* * *
“Ha! Well. This is absurd.”
Cheon Bo, one of the three cult leaders of Hwang Cheon, clicked his tongue in disgust.
He scratched his forehead with his reddish-brown staff.
“Unremarkable wretches or not, just three of them?”
It was ridiculous.
Numbers always mattered in a fight—yet these three had mowed down all two hundred disciples as if laughing at that very principle.
And without even sustaining serious wounds in the process.
“They’re too good to simply kill off.”
Cheon Bo’s lips curled upward slightly, and he licked them with his tongue.
Looking at them, they seemed young—yet they already wielded such martial prowess.
They had to be scions of the Baekdo Three Houses.
The sort who had gorged themselves on elixirs since childhood, their inner power swelling with abundance.
“At this level, even my older brothers would be pleased.”
Cheon Bo, already gleeful at the prospect of absorbing their inner power, tapped the staff lightly against the ground two or three times.
Thick smoke billowed up around him, and twins bearing a resemblance to his own face emerged—an older brother and a younger brother.
Cheon Gak, who called himself the Celestial Lord General, and Cheon Ryang, who called himself the Earthly Lord General.
“What is it?”
“What is it, younger brother.”
“Fine vessels have appeared. Young martial artists. And one of them is even a woman.”
“Oh ho?”
“These ones here? They seem to possess quite abundant vital energy.”
Cheon Gak and Cheon Ryang licked their lips as they gazed toward Gwan Hui and his companions in the distance.
“They’re the ones who killed two hundred disciples. No ordinary skill there.”
“Hmm. Slaughtered them all, you say?”
A flash of interest crossed Cheon Gak’s eyes as he looked at Gwan Hui’s group.
“Indeed, elder brother. Corpses and blood cover the ground.”
“Hehehe. Excellent.”
The three cult leader brothers of Hwang Cheon smiled wickedly and nodded.
Around Tai San, where Hwang Cheon had established itself, roughly a dozen formation arrays had been spread.
And among those formations was one in particular: the Blood Devouring Demonic Array.
A formation of the corrosive-curse class that grew thicker with dark energy the more blood it consumed, scattering the enemies’ vital force.
“Ah, and that damnable master came along too. He’s already begun dismantling the formations.”
Cheon Bo gnashed his teeth as he gazed at Jang Cho San, who sat cross-legged in meditation.
Merely seeing that repugnant master’s face kindled an endless murderous intent within him.
He wanted nothing more than to rush forward that instant and tear the man limb from limb.
“Tsk. I knew he’d come eventually. How many formations remain?”
“Twenty-eight out of thirty have been broken. The cursed fool attacked with vicious persistence.”
The three brothers possessed considerable skill in their own right, but they lacked the strength to overcome their master.
Had they possessed such strength, they would have chosen to kill him instead of poisoning him and fleeing with stolen secrets.
“Yet the Blood Devouring Demonic Array still remains. I concealed it beforehand and disassembled it myself.”
Cheon Bo’s smile stretched from his lips to his cheekbones.
“Hehehe. The moment that master finishes dismantling all the formations, I’ll unfurl the Blood Devouring Demonic Array again. It’s already gorged on the blood of two hundred—even the master won’t escape.”
Whether it be Taoism or sorcery, the power of such arts varied wildly depending on how excellent the medium was.
A formation array that had consumed the blood and corpses of two hundred souls.
Its power was formidable enough to slay even Jang Cho San, the master of the Taiping Dao, in a single stroke.
Shatter!-
At that very moment, a sound like shattering glass rang out across Tai San.
It was the noise of the final formation array, which the three brothers had prepared, being broken through.
“……The time has come. What is the celestial timing like now?”
“Perfect. Several times more potent than usual. The optimal auspicious fortune for a sorcerer.”
“Perfect.”
Cheon Bo, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth, raised the reddish-brown staff high into the air and struck the ground.
Boom!—
In that instant, undulating waves erupted outward, and a torrent of energy came surging forth.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!—
From the staff as its epicenter, the surrounding earth began to stain itself in deep crimson.

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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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