Martial God of the Sun and Moon - Chapter 354

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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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Chapter 354
Clang!
A grotesque iron mace descended like a stone pagoda compressed into a weapon.
Cheolmu-baek’s eyes flashed as he swung his axe.
“Opponent!”
Crash!
One of the Four Heavenly Kings, a master of the Ascending Realm.
This man was indeed formidable. The incoming mace seemed ready to crush his chest and shatter his skull.
“Graaaah!”
Cheolmu-baek’s eyes blazed as he brought his axe down with all his might.
Screech!
The blade of the axe warped. The solid iron shaft also cracked with a sharp sound.
Cheolmu-baek wrapped vital energy around the damaged axe blade and swung it again.
“What?”
Boom!
The Northern Sky King clicked his tongue.
The force contained in the axe was still heavy.
“Just a brute with strength!”
“Huff, gasp, wheeze….”
Cheolmu-baek, lacking even the breath to speak, let his axe hang limply as sweat poured from him like rain.
The Northern Sky King clicked his tongue again.
“Foreigner, what did you say your name was?”
“Already… told you.”
“Right, Cheolmu-baek, wasn’t it? Now that I see you, it’s quite a fitting name. I shall boast proudly that such a martial artist existed when this elder ruled the heavens.”
The Northern Sky King approached with heavy steps and raised his mace.
“So now, die.”
Boom!
In that instant, Cheolmu-baek felt the world spin before his eyes.
‘I had confidence in strength.’
He felt the small muscles holding his shoulder joints tear completely.
He could not keep pace with his opponent at all.
Not in strength, not in speed, not in martial skill’s refinement.
He was overwhelmed in every aspect of the martial way.
Suddenly, Cheolmu-baek thought.
‘But was I ever a martial artist?’
He deflected the incoming strike with the flat of his axe and found his answer.
‘No, I am not a martial artist.’
He knew nothing of the martial world’s etiquette or laws.
For him, fighting meant standing against strength and winning through it.
Such victories held none of the beauty or nobility the martial world spoke of. All true victory was always brutal, fierce, and dirty.
-Martial arts in the jianghu are ultimately nothing more than techniques bound by the rules of martial arts created by the Central Plains.
-When heaven and earth stretch endlessly, how could there be only one standard?
-In the end, martial arts simply means fighting and winning.
I recalled the advice Dokgo Myeong had given me.
-Just because there are martial artists of the jianghu around you doesn’t mean you have to become one too. I brought you here as a fighter, Cheolmu-baek, not as some rigid martial artist.
Then why did he torment me so much to learn martial arts?
That’s right. He simply expanded the weapons I could use.
A weapon is just a weapon—a true fighter is never controlled by his tools.
Only then did I realize I had been fighting with far too much pretense.
“I’m going.”
Flash!
My expression transformed completely.
Boom!
I planted my stance firmly.
Now even this kind of footwork unfolded effortlessly with concentration.
Crash!
“Hmm?”
The Northern Sky King furrowed his brow.
He had immediately sensed the shift in my energy.
Clang! Boom!
I opened all my senses wide.
And circling round and round, I felt one thing.
Breathing.
Everything began with breathing.
I carefully observed the flow of combat through my breath.
‘At this rate, I’ll be dead within two breaths.’
The Northern Sky King was simply too strong.
Then I had to extend my breaths, didn’t I?
Crash!
I swung my axe with blazing eyes.
“Still don’t understand? Your strength means nothing to me. Pathetic!”
The Northern Sky King laughed mockingly as he swung his iron mace to meet my axe.
But then.
Crash!
The axe blade suddenly extended, pushing right toward his face.
Metal couldn’t suddenly stretch like that. So this meant…
‘He threw his weapon!’
The heavy iron axe spun like a wagon wheel, descending upon the Northern Sky King.
Boom!
Unprepared for a long weapon to be hurled at him, the Northern Sky King carelessly dropped the iron mace in his left hand.
He hastily reached out to pick it up again, but something suddenly spread across his vision.
Cheolmu-baek had flung dirt with that massive hand of his.
Cough, cough!
The moment he covered his face and stumbled backward, a terrifying wave of energy surged forward from ahead.
“Such crude tricks!”
The Northern Sky King swung the iron mace in his hand without even looking.
Clang!
The sound of metal?
Didn’t he just throw his axe away?
‘What is this? When did he pick up a sword? And does he even know how to use one?’
In Cheolmu-baek’s hand was an ownerless sword that had been rolling across the battlefield floor.
Ching! Clang, clang, clang!
The continuous strikes of the Heavenly Blade, Ten Strikes of Heaven erupted forth.
It was a technique infused with the mysteries of the Infinite Heavenly Wave Scripture. Though the surprise attack came at an opportune moment, the unfamiliarity of the weapon caused it to push the Northern Sky King back only five or six steps.
But that was enough.
Clang!
Cheolmu-baek threw the sword away like a dagger and reached for the iron mace the Northern Sky King had just dropped.
Snatch!
“Now… ten breaths have passed.”
A gleam of light flashed in Cheolmu-baek’s eyes.
“How dare you! Coveting your opponent’s weapon! Do you have no pride as a martial artist!”
“No, I don’t.”
“…!?”
Cheolmu-baek’s axe was so heavy that it required constant effort to wield. By contrast, the Northern Sky King’s iron mace fit perfectly with his current physical state.
Clang!
One more exchange.
Nine breaths remained now.
‘His defense and strength are solid. Similar to the level of Captain Dokgo Myeong back when he hadn’t yet perfected his art.’
Boom! Crash! Clang!
Eight, seven, six breaths.
‘Not focusing on footwork, but on finding a way to win.’
Rumble!
Cheolmu-baek forgot the forms of the Heavenly Blade.
He forgot the principles of inner energy circulation.
He simply surrendered his body to his breathing, thinking of nothing.
Whoooooosh!
Like when he climbed the snowy mountain in a blizzard, like when he thrashed his limbs at the bottom of the lake to survive.
Suddenly his consciousness heightened, and everything began to feel more vivid and clear.
‘It’s slowed down.’
The world appeared to move in slow motion.
I felt countless breaths filling the world.
The breaths of the Left Army soldiers clashing with the Pacheonggun masters, the breaths of Dokgo Gun and the Three Heavenly Kings far away, the breaths of Dokgo Ak and the Cheonma Sect.
And the breaths of myself and the opponent I must strike down—right now!
Crash!
Cheolmu-baek’s massive frame rushed at the Northern Sky King like a thunderbolt.
“…Ugh!”
The Northern Sky King hastily brought down his iron mace.
In that instant, Cheolmu-baek deliberately offered up one of his arms.
Crack!
Terrible pain surged through his palm, and his elbow bent in a direction it should never bend.
Immediately after, a powerful exhale burst from Cheolmu-baek’s mouth.
“Huff!”
That was the final breath I needed.
Now I’ve won.
“Impossible…!”
The Northern Sky King tried to quickly retrieve his iron mace, but Cheolmu-baek had already unleashed his strike.
Bang!
A sharp explosion erupted.
The iron mace was embedded in his chest.
“Huff, huff. Gasp!”
Cheolmu-baek collapsed to the ground.
His head spun. When he touched his temple, blood was pouring out. He couldn’t remember when he’d been wounded.
‘I’ve done my part, Captain. As promised, I’ve won.’
Cheolmu-baek’s gaze turned toward the distance.
‘Captain, you must win too.’
* * *
The momentum was evenly matched, the martial prowess equally balanced.
There was a difference in raw power, yet Dokgo Myeong possessed a weapon to nullify that gap.
Who held the advantage? Or who faced the greater disadvantage?
Such distinctions hardly mattered.
‘We each possess a blade sharp enough to kill the other.’
Dokgo Myeong unleashed his martial techniques with every ounce of his being, flames blazing from his eyes.
Boom!
As one foot withdrew, the other kicked off the ground.
A leg technique of the Hwacheon Strike aimed at the upper body.
I thought he wouldn’t react in time, but Jimeol Magoon’s palm was already at the point of impact.
Bang! Grab!
Blocked, and my sleeve was seized.
I tried to pull free, but couldn’t break the energy wave that created the pulling force.
Then, as Jimeol Magoon subtly shifted his balance, my body’s center line was completely destabilized.
Aaaahhh!
The stone staff descended like a guillotine toward Dokgo Myeong’s abdomen, now bereft of balance.
Crash!
Dokgo Myeong’s mouth fell agape as he was hurled backward.
“Gack!”
Blood gushed forth in torrents.
But that was the end of it. Dokgo Myeong rose to his feet immediately.
Flash!
Jimeol Magoon vanished before my eyes, trailing ashen afterimages.
Boom!
My body recoiled sharply as the impact struck my flank.
Jimeol Magoon’s eyes gleamed with intensity.
One edge of my Hyeonchel Sword was already blocking the exact spot his stone staff had targeted.
‘This bastard is predicting my movements with increasing accuracy!’
Thud!
Jimeol Magoon skidded across the blood-soaked earth.
Screech!
The two of us no longer exchanged words.
There was no need for probing or provocation. We could no longer afford to waste breath on such things.
Whoosh! Crash!!
Jimeol Magoon’s rigid hand blade thrust forward like a spear.
A martial technique with suction force that made evasion impossible.
I was confident in my durability. I had the Dragon Scale Armor. I clenched my teeth and tensed every muscle in my body.
Bang! Crack!
“Cough!”
The tremendous pain made me think my organs would flip inside out.
Jimeol Magoon’s eyes flashed as he seized the opportunity, wielding his stone staff with even greater ferocity.
I evaded the tip of his staff and returned a counterattack.
Crash!
“Ugh!”
Jimeol Magoon staggered backward.
I smiled wickedly.
‘I’ve caught up considerably.’
Now it was time to end this.
Without a word, Jimeol Magoon and I locked eyes before charging at each other once more.
Thud….
In that instant, I felt as though the sound erupting before my face was coming from far away.
Boom! Shred!
The garments beneath the Dragon Scale Armor crumbled under the impact.
Glancing sideways, I could see the Dragon Scale Armor itself was torn in several places.
It was because the Heavenly Demon Sect’s protective technique had failed to arrive in time. There was nothing to be done. Everything was lacking now.
Crash!
With another collision, color vanished from the world. The outlines of all things became blurred.
Boom!
Now even sensation disappeared. I felt as though I were being struck by something, yet no pain registered.
‘Even better. I can focus more on the fight.’
Every martial technique flowed from me with unprecedented ease, as if I had never experienced anything like this before.
Zzzzzzzzzt!
In that instant.
“Krraaahhh!”
Jimeol Magoon unleashed a bestial cry.
“This cannot be!”
Cracks began spreading across his entire body. Between the fractured skin, Bloodfiend energy and Jimeol energy raged wildly, scattering in all directions.
At the very end of all things.
The precariously stacked tower of blood techniques was crumbling beneath Dokgo Myeong’s martial arts—built solid through blood battles and self-reflection.
‘This cannot be! To a fool who doesn’t even know what he carries!’
Jimeol Magoon erupted with blood light in desperation.
But Dokgo Myeong was no longer focused on such things.
‘I can win this.’
Advancing in one instant, retreating in the next.
Clashing, bouncing back, slashing, striking, blocking, evading.
These countless moments of advancing and retreating, tangling together.
Amidst the countless crossroads of life and death intertwined before my eyes, I saw the single path to victory.
Booom!
My feet sank into the ground up to my ankles.
A heavy footwork. The earth trembled as if an earthquake were occurring.
Jimeol Magoon’s eyes widened.
‘That footwork again!’
That bizarre martial technique that disrupts one’s qi perception.
How could someone who hasn’t even reached the Wuji Realm create such harmony!
Kwaaaang!
Jimeol Magoon was driven back, coughing blood without even a chance to scream.
Dokgo Myeong rushed forward again, scattering blood that soaked his entire body.
Shudder!
Jimeol Magoon’s eyes filled with terror.
‘At this rate… I will die!’
Like the captains, like the disciples, and like the Bloodfiend who should have died to him.
Like all those meaningless deaths that had come to him as afflictions, he too might die meaninglessly.
‘This cannot be!’
Jimeol Magoon brought down his stone staff with a crash.
Crack! Boom!
The sacred artifact of the Jeongheol Sect, the Dochul Stone Spear, shattered with a deafening roar.
But thanks to that destruction, Ji-myeol Magoon was able to burrow into Dokgo Myeong’s embrace.
“That demonic pill you stole! Let’s see if you can survive once your true essence is sucked dry!”
From Ji-myeol Magoon’s fingertips erupted a suction force that surpassed anything before.
The Ji-myeol Devouring Star Technique.
Sima Waidao’s demonic hand stretched toward Dokgo Myeong’s throat.
In that instant, Dokgo Myeong’s eyes blazed with light.
‘Now is the moment.’
The time had come to end this.
Dokgo Myeong surrendered his entire body to the extending Hyeonchul Sword.
Thus the two became entangled.
Boom!
An explosion of fire bloomed.
Moments later, only one person stood in that place.

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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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