Three Years of Blacksmithing, Achieving Divine Martial Arts - Chapter 22

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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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Episode 22. There Is No Escape in the Water
As the opponent drew closer, the movement of the water shifted.
So Cheol

kept his eyes closed, his back against the rock. The right side of his shoulder down to his ribs still throbbed, and even the gentlest deep breath sent a heavy pulse through his chest.
Still, it didn’t feel like anything was broken. Without the Yorin Naegap, he wouldn’t have had the luxury of playing dead like this.
The approaching figure showed no urgency. It seemed to think one ambush had already ended things.
The arm movements were slow, and the water churned evenly at the tip of the trident.
At first, the presence had been a couple of paces away, but now it had drawn within a pace and a half. One more arm stroke and the trident would be in reach.
So Cheol opened his eyes at that moment.
The two eyes visible between the black mask widened, and at the same instant, five colors flashed across his right hand—the O-sip fell into his palm.
The opponent startled and raised the trident diagonally, but it was already too late.
So Cheol twisted at the waist where he’d been resting against the rock and drove the hammer upward in an arc.

Crash!

Metal struck metal, and the shock swept across the riverbed. The opponent’s body was driven back over half a pace, even with the trident blocking between them, and a deep crimson spray of blood burst from beneath the mask.
So Cheol’s wrist ached too. The opponent hadn’t simply resisted with raw strength.
The moment the hammer met the shaft, it had struck an invisible barrier first—a resistance that hit his palm before anything else. The explanation Son Cheol-shim had taught him came rushing back.
Internal Force. The opponent was a Rank 3 Martial Artist.
So Cheol’s nape went cold. If that trident had speared him properly just now, there was no guarantee he’d be safe even wearing the Naegap.
The shock cut both ways.
The masked figure, even as blood spilled from his mouth, kept his gaze fixed not on So Cheol but on the O-sip. His eyes darted in disbelief between the hammer and So Cheol’s arm.
There was no reason to wait for him to recover.
So Cheol drove himself off the riverbed first. The Suryong Yuryeongbeop unfolded as his body slid forward, and the O-sip wheeled behind his waist before the current could catch it.
The opponent snapped to attention immediately.
As the trident traced a circle through the water, the displaced current reversed and crashed over So Cheol’s face. The point of the blade vanished within it.
So Cheol didn’t search with his eyes. He twisted his body instead, drawing on the flow he’d learned while moving through these waters.
As pressure grazed his shoulder and suddenly grew heavy on one side, he ducked his head, and the trident’s blade scraped past, severing a few strands of his hair.
So Cheol closed the distance and swept the O-sip sideways.
When the opponent raised the shaft to block, So Cheol didn’t follow through completely. Instead, he absorbed the impact through his wrist and twisted his waist in the opposite direction.
The hammer head traced a short arc through the water and came around not to the shaft but to the opponent’s arm.

Crack!

The masked figure’s right arm bent at an unnatural angle.
The trident slipped from his hand and scraped against the riverbed. Instead of a scream, he exhaled a stream of large bubbles and retreated, his left hand grasping the broken arm—then immediately wheeled his body around.
He was running.
So Cheol didn’t hesitate for an instant.
The opponent was Rank 3, had been waiting in the water to ambush him, and knew how to lure prey with the Rainbow Trout Boar. If he let him slip away now and he returned to his family, there was no telling what he might do.
The opponent kicked hard with both legs. In an instant, the water behind him erupted and his body shot away like an arrow.
It was no mere swimming. The Internal Force bursting from his feet, pushing the water aside, was unmistakably visible.
So Cheol abandoned the O-sip.
The moment both arms went light, his waist and back caught the current, and as he flicked his feet in the Suryong Yuryeongbeop rhythm, the black silhouette that had been receding drew close again.
The riverbed’s terrain streaked past.
When a large stone appeared, he tilted sideways past it; in deep channels, he straightened and rode the current over. The Yorin Naegap shed the water that struck it from the front, pushing it smoothly to either side.
By contrast, the fleeing figure’s movements—though fast—had grown rough.
At first, two or three strong kicks widened the gap, but as time passed, his right side began to sag gradually. It wasn’t just the freshly broken arm.
Blood trailing from his ribs left a long tail behind him.

‘He was already wounded.’

That might have been why he’d used the boar as bait. His body wasn’t fit for a direct attack, so he’d drawn prey to his own ground instead.
The problem was that today, the bait had been taken by So Cheol.
The distance between them closed to less than two paces.
The masked figure glanced back, but his gaze lingered not on So Cheol’s face but on the movement of his arms and waist cutting through the water. This time, his eyes unmistakably wavered.
The masked figure suddenly shot upward.
Breaking the surface and gasping for air, he saw So Cheol rising behind him and, without thinking, opened his mouth.

“That movement…….”

His words trailed off.
His gaze was not on So Cheol’s face but fixed on the waist and feet as they cut through the water, changing direction. It was not merely the startled reaction of someone realizing a pursuer had drawn near.
Before So Cheol could ask, his opponent threw himself back beneath the surface.
One thing was certain: the man knew the movements of the Suryong Yuryeongbeop school.
It was difficult to think he had no connection to the silk that came from Hwang Tae-gon, yet So Cheol could not confirm the suspicion that stretched all the way to Wang San.
The masked figure offered no more flourishes either.
He descended into the deeper channel, cut sharply between rocks, and in thickly weeded sections, tilted his body sideways to hide his trail. He moved like a man who had fought in water his entire life.
So Cheol did not follow that exact path.
Instead, he chose the water course most convenient for himself to traverse. When direct pursuit was blocked by stone, he planted his feet and steadied himself; where the current fell away below, he let his body ride it to close the distance.
Before long, the gap narrowed until they were within arm’s reach of each other.
The masked figure spun around, his broken arm hanging limp at his side, and extended his left hand. The meaning of that palm raised outward was unmistakable.
So Cheol did not slow his pace.
It would be fortunate to capture a Rank 3 Martial Artist and interrogate him about who had given the order and from where, but he had no means to do so safely, and he could not know what that open palm might produce in the next instant.
The figure seemed to harbor a flicker of hope upon seeing So Cheol’s empty hands.
But when five-colored light rippled across them and the blade So Cheol had taken from Hwang Tae-gon materialized in his grip, the eyes behind the mask flickered with something close to fear for the first time.
Without a word, So Cheol closed the final distance using the Suryong Yuryeongbeop.

Splash!

A crimson thread unfurled through the water.
The masked head separated from its body and drifted slowly upward, while the corpse continued forward for a moment before losing all momentum and sinking toward the riverbed.
So Cheol did not approach immediately.
He stood with blade raised, keeping watch from a distance until he was certain the body had not moved a single muscle. Only then did he release a long breath.
Not until bubbles rose past his face did he become aware again of how violently his heart was hammering, and how severe the pain in his shoulders and chest had been during the fight—pain he had forgotten while locked in combat.
The Rainbow Trout Boar that had been dragging him through the water a moment ago drifted aimlessly now beyond the reddened current, disoriented.
Whether it knew its master was gone or not, it no longer maintained the distance as before or fled.
So Cheol nearly lost it once, but in the end managed to seize its tail, and this time he did not prolong the struggle.
After subduing the fish, he gathered the spear and the corpse and surfaced.

Whoosh!

Cold night air struck his face.
Rather than heading straight to the bank, So Cheol surveyed the surroundings. A small sandbar ran through the middle of the river, followed by beds of reeds, and beyond them a faint smell of smoke drifted toward him.
There were no signs of human passage, but the scent could not be concealed.
As he dragged the corpse in that direction, he discovered a low channel hidden behind the reeds.
It looked sealed from the outside, but when he lowered himself to pass through, a small cave opened inward.
Inside were stacked stones forming a hearth, dried firewood, a cauldron, and a few earthenware vessels.

“He lived here.”

So Cheol glanced back toward the entrance once.
It would have been difficult to find by land. Using the boar to lure people here, killing them in the water, and hiding the body immediately afterward—it was a perfect arrangement.
He laid the corpse down deeper in the cave and leaned his back against the wall. Strength drained from him the moment he sat.
When he pulled open the Yorin Naegap, a broad greenish-black bruise had spread across his ribs.
He had avoided the blade itself, yet the damage was this severe. Had the initial impact struck even slightly more direct, or had he been without the armor, the one lying down would have been him.
So Cheol spent a long while catching his breath.
He had many questions for the corpse.
Where had he learned the Suryong Yuryeongbeop? Did he know Hwang Tae-gon? Was there truly Wang San behind all this?
But the thought of keeping him alive to interrogate never took hold.
A Rank 3 Martial Artist had fled at that speed through the water even after sustaining wounds and a broken arm. In a single moment of carelessness, if he had unleashed his Internal Force even once, the situation could have reversed entirely.
Survival came before curiosity.
The hollowness began to set in then.
The Qi-Blood expended during the fight seemed to have drained all at once, and his fingertips trembled. His eyes fell upon the Rainbow Trout Boar resting on the cave floor.
So Cheol stared at it for a moment, then picked up his blade.
It had been bait that drew him all this way. Now it was his turn to feed.
* * *
He cut the fish flesh into generous pieces and placed them in the cauldron with only a pinch of salt.
The spices were sparse, but once the broth began to boil, even the aroma was different.
A subtle sweetness rose from the lean, oily flesh, and So Cheol, who had eaten the first bowl slowly, found himself unable to slow his pace from the second onward.
The warm broth nourished more than just his belly.
Before long, a heat rose from below his dantian, drawing his spine straight of its own accord, and as warmth flooded to his fingertips, sitting still became unbearable.
It was nothing like the first time he’d eaten Gangeom meat.
So Cheol drained the last of the broth and stepped out of the cave.
Under the moonlight that fell across the narrow water channel, he drew his blade and the Salho Chamshin Do flowed naturally forth.
At first, his only thought was to expel the heat.
But with each pass, each swing of the blade, the techniques he’d learned fighting Hwang Tae-gon and studied anew with Yeo-ui began to lock together with crystalline clarity.
With every step, the qi-blood roiling in his body drained through the blade.
Before the cross-slash at his waist finished its arc, the next foot found its place, and as the blade returned, qi-blood clung to it once more.
How many times did he swing?
His breathing grew ragged, yet his body felt lighter still.
When he finally stopped, a barrier that had hung below his dantian dissolved, and his qi-blood sank deeper than before.
Mid-Rank 2.
The Salho Chamshin Do had transformed as well.
When he’d sparred with Yeo-ui, he could only see the path ahead; now his body flowed into the next movement without thought of where to end the blade.
Somewhere along the way, he’d touched Great Perfection.
A long breath came before joy.
Though his level had risen, the sensation of a Rank 3 Martial Artist’s spear-point grazing his chest moments before remained vivid.
So Cheol sheathed his blade and stood at the water’s edge for a long while.
His heart had not yet settled enough to call this a good night.
As he returned to the cave, he noticed the trident leaning beside the entrance.
There had been no time to examine it during the fight.
Up close, it was no ordinary steel weapon. The shaft gleamed with a blue-green radiance, and where the three prongs met, a wave-like qi pattern was faintly etched.
When So Cheol’s hand touched it, the Bronze Cauldron responded.

[Hyeonsu Gang Cha
(玄水鋼叉)
]
[Grade: Rank 3 Spirit Weapon]
[Primary Material: Spine of a Hyeonsu Snake
(玄水蛇)
]
[Origin: Chwibyo-ho
(淬兵湖)
]
[High compatibility with aquatic application and water-based martial disciplines]

So Cheol’s gaze fixed on the final line.

“Jugeom Sanjang?”

He hadn’t expected a name he’d heard from Son Cheol-shim only hours ago to resurface like this.
He lowered the trident and turned toward the corpse. Now came the moment to confirm who the dead man was.
As he reached to remove the black mask, the sensation against his fingertips gave him pause.
Though leather, it was not smooth. Tiny scale-like protrusions were densely embedded across its surface.
So Cheol held the mask closer to the lamp.
Knowledge from his metalworking studies surfaced in his mind. It was sharkskin.
In Nohyeon, such material was nearly impossible to obtain.
A black mask of sharkskin, a man skilled enough in water-fighting to lure humans as bait, and Internal Force at the Rank 3 level—all converged in a single person.
In Nohyeon, there was only one name that came to mind when these conditions aligned.
So Cheol looked down at the corpse slowly.

“Sujeok Wang.”

The man who once controlled Nohyeon’s waterways and vanished to escape the pursuit of Cheoljang Bang and Gwanbu now lay at his feet, his neck severed.

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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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