Ultimate Martial Venerable - Chapter 41

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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 41. Basic Sword Technique
Cho Haeng walked out into the middle of the Empty Ground.
Not even a sword rested in the hand that had set down the water cup. Yet the moment he straightened his spine, the soft atmosphere shattered entirely.

“Let me be clear from the start. I’m not accustomed to teaching others.”
“Nor am I accustomed to learning, sir.”
“That’s hardly something to boast of.”

Han Pung, crouching at the threshold, interjected.

“Don’t worry, Yuk Beom. Third brother may sound like that, but he’s actually quite kind. If you can’t dodge his sword, he’ll mark it on your body directly.”

Cho Haeng’s wrist moved gently.
Crack!
A thin line split the stone just before Han Pung’s toes.
Han Pung stepped back silently and laughed.

“See? He’s already showing you exactly where you need to stand.”

Yuk Beom swallowed his laughter and lifted the Weaponless Heavy Sword

into position.

“What sword technique is this?”
“Watch first, then judge for yourself.”

Cho Haeng raised his left hand high and pressed his right into empty air. As his feet shifted back half a step, the center of his body sank with an uncanny grace.
Han Pung edged closer to Yuk Beom’s side.

Third brother’s Yin-Yang Mystical Dragon Sword

is an Earth Rank martial art. Along with Second brother’s Left Heaven Blade,

it’s known as the Ilwon Academy’s twin jewels of blade and sword.”

Cho Haeng’s gaze turned toward them.

“Han Pung.”
“Yes, Third brother.”
“Stay exactly where you are.”

A gentle gesture cut through the air.
Han Pung yelped and leaped sideways.
A long, thin sword mark had carved itself where he had stood.

“Wait! You’re supposed to be teaching the youngest, not catching me!”
“Interrupting with your mouth is part of the lesson too.”

His wrist turned again.
Invisible sword energy pressed in from both sides, driving Han Pung back. When he lowered his body, wind whisked above his head; when he dodged left, cracks traced the stone beneath his feet.
Han Pung no longer simply fled.
He wrapped his arms in Gangjing and met the sword energy head-on with his fists. But each time his knuckles drew near, the force’s direction slipped away as if greased.
Cho Haeng’s fingertips remained unhurried.
His feet traced small circles, his body neither yielding nor advancing. He simply guided Han Pung into the sword’s path of his own accord.

“That’s enough now, Third brother!”
“Not yet.”
“My clothes will be ruined first!”

By now, holes had bloomed across Han Pung’s sleeves and trouser legs.
Cho Haeng withdrew his hand.

“Yuk Beom, did you see it?”
“A little, yes.”

Han Pung approached, clutching at his tattered clothes.

“A little? I risked my life showing you that.”
“But you just spent the whole time running away, didn’t you?”
“Running well is a skill in itself.”

Yuk Beom examined the ground where the two had stood.
Beneath Han Pung’s feet, sword traces had gathered to form a distinct yin-yang eight-trigram pattern. The same design remained where Cho Haeng had stood, differing only in scale.
The sword energy, seemingly carelessly extended, had guided the opponent’s movements in a single direction from the start.

“You created a formation while attacking.”

A light of satisfaction flickered across Cho Haeng’s eyes.

“You have eyes to see. The Yin-Yang Mystical Dragon Sword is not a martial art of swinging a blade—it is a martial art of weaving currents. Even when the opponent thinks they have dodged, in truth they move to the place I have determined.”

“So attack and defense happen simultaneously?”
“Correct. Once you reach the Outer Gangjing Realm, you can unfold blade formations using only Strong Energy, without a weapon.”

Han Pung poked his fingers through the holes in his clothes.

“And you’re remarkably skilled at turning your teacher’s clothes into rags.”

As Cho Haeng’s hand rose, he immediately fell silent.
This time, Cho Cheon stepped forward.

“Since you’ve seen the sword, only fair you see the Blade technique as well.”

Seeing him empty-handed, Yuk Beom looked around.

“You don’t use weapons?”
“I can’t use what I don’t have.”

Cho Cheon’s gaze turned toward Han Pung.

“Someone here will need to get me new weapons.”
“Why blame me for what Jade Fire burned—”
“Enough.”

With that curt word, Cho Cheon’s presence exploded outward.
Red Strong Energy gathered in his left hand. The man who had been laughing heartily moments before transformed into a martial warrior reeking of blood.
Cho Haeng and Han Pung stepped back as if on cue.
Not just a step or two—they retreated all the way back through the door.
Yuk Beom moved to follow, then stopped.

“Youngest.”

Han Pung gestured from inside the doorway.

“If you value your life, come this way.”
“Is it that serious?”

Cho Cheon turned his head.

“I’d prefer if you stepped back a bit more.”

With the man himself suggesting it, Yuk Beom obediently moved beneath the eaves.
Red light compressed toward the edge of his hand blade.
The air around them caved inward.

The Left Heaven Blade.”

Cho Cheon drew his left hand downward in a slash.
Crack!
The earth split open.
A colossal blade scar that began in the middle of the Empty Ground stretched past the fence and extended to the foot of the mountainside. Soil and slate flew up on both sides, carving out a deep ravine in its wake.
Without realizing it, Yuk Beom’s grip tightened on the Weaponless Heavy Sword’s hilt.
Cho Cheon had compressed all his Gangjing into a single attack and released it completely without reserve.
Once the momentum settled, Cho Cheon laughed with open delight.

“Simple, isn’t it? You gather strength at your Dantian and detonate it all at once. Nothing to hold back, nothing to overthink. If you can’t cut through on the first strike?”
“Do you attack again?”
“You run for your life.”

The sheer confidence of the answer left Yuk Beom momentarily speechless.
Cho Haeng added from beside them.

“My second brother’s martial skill doesn’t anticipate a second exchange.”
“Because he makes sure the enemy can’t mount one either.”

Cho Cheon pointed to the split earth.

“But if you fail and stick around playing at dignity, you die. When you run, your legs matter more than your face.”

It was simple, but not wrong.
Yuk Beom bowed respectfully.

“A most valuable lesson.”
“Right?”

Han Pung, done observing, drew the Jade Water Long Sky Sword as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

“Then it’s my turn now.”

The expressions of Cho Cheon and Cho Haeng shifted simultaneously.

“Absolutely not.”
“Why not? Both of you showed your techniques.”
“If you show yours, the house disappears.”
“I can control it.”
“You said that last time too.”

The instant Han Pung began to lift his blade, Cho Haeng seized him around the waist while Cho Cheon grabbed both his arms.
The three of them tumbled across the ground in a heap.

“Let go! What if the youngest thinks I’m a fool!”
“You already are one!”
“Stop pressing my face! I just got the swelling down!”

Han Pung didn’t release the sword, and his two senior brothers wouldn’t let go of their grips. With each grapple, new cracks spider-webbed across the blue-stone floor.
The door burst open.

“Are you three tearing up the ground again before breakfast?”

At Il Cheong’s shout, all three bodies went rigid.
His gaze swept from the split earth to Han Pung’s blade to the entangled disciples.

Mind Way Chapter

— ten thousand times.”
“Master!”
“Shall I make it twenty thousand?”

The three scrambled to their feet and scattered to their rooms.
Moments later, resonant chanting echoed from within the wooden building.

“The mind is still, the spirit uncontending, yet still it contends…….”

Han Pung’s voice was particularly loud — less a show of devotion than a plea for mercy.
Il Cheong stared at the gouged earth and pressed a palm to his forehead.

“One day those three will tear the entire Ilwon Academy to pieces.”

Yuk Beom gazed down at the fractured ground. But after only a few breaths, the shattered stone began to ripple like water.
The cracks sealed themselves, the displaced earth settled back down. In an instant, the Empty Ground had restored itself to its original state.

“Did you do this, Master?”
The academy’s Great Formation. Qi Practitioners and Martial Sages wove it together — a formation technique that can’t repair shattered buildings, but handles the earth readily enough.”

Il Cheong gestured for him to step inside.

“What did you think of the martial techniques you just witnessed?”
“Both were strong, Master.”
“I can see that myself. What made them strong?”

Yuk Beom paused to gather his thoughts.

Cho Haeng’s Yin-Yang Mystical Dragon Sword

robbed the opponent of choice. It appeared to flow softly, but always drove you toward a destination of his choosing.”
“Cho Cheon’s Left Heaven Blade

was the opposite. It granted no time to choose at all. It wagered everything on a single stroke — and that stroke was the fastest and strongest.”

A smile tugged at Il Cheong’s mouth.

“Which would you like to learn?”
“Both, Master.”
“Greedy, aren’t you?”
“Are there martial artists who dislike strong techniques?”
“Not a one.”

As his laughter faded, Il Cheong shook his head.

“But don’t master both deeply. See what you need and take only that. Martial strength alone doesn’t define mastery. A technique only shows its true power when it matches the temperament and path of the one wielding it.”

Yuk Beom asked.

“Then, what martial art would suit me?”
“You’re sharp, yet you don’t flaunt it carelessly. You’re solid, but you don’t force your way through recklessly. You stand firm as a mountain, yet change endlessly within.”

The playful gleam that usually lived in his eyes pierced straight through Yuk Beom.

“Most people can’t even find the entrance. But if you walk that path once, you’ll never know where it ends. That’s the art for you.”

His heart raced.

“The Ilwon Dao Jue?”

“That’s how I see it. But I can’t teach it to you without Do Gwang returning first.”

Il Cheong reached beneath the bedframe.
His hand rummaged for a long while before emerging with a thick book. The dust had accumulated so densely that when he set it on the table, a gray cloud bloomed into the air.

“Learn this in the meantime.”

Four characters were inscribed on the cover.
Basic Sword Technique.

Yuk Beom looked back and forth between the book and Il Cheong.

“Is this Human Rank, lower grade?”
“Yes.”
“I just need to master this?”
“Very diligently.”

A Human Rank, lower grade technique hidden under the bed—for a disciple who had refused Earth Rank martial arts.
Il Cheong’s face was nothing but smiles.

“What’s that look for?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Good. No complaints—I like your spirit.”

Yuk Beom carried the book, heavy as stone, back outside.
The moment the door closed, Han Pung’s room cracked slightly open.

“Youngest—did the master scold you?”

Inside, Cho Cheon and Cho Haeng’s reading voices suddenly grew louder. Han Pung had deliberately raised his own to avoid being caught eavesdropping.

“He gave me a martial art.”
“What kind? Earth Rank?”

Yuk Beom held out the book.
Han Pung’s face crumpled when he saw the cover.

“When did the master get so stingy?”

He glanced around, then pulled a small booklet from his chest.

“This is my martial art. The insights of every senior before me are written here, along with my own secrets. Read it first.”
“Isn’t this your secret transmission?”
“Hoarding among Death Gate siblings will only rot them—that’s the real stupidity.”

Han Pung thrust the manual into Yuk Beom’s arms.

“When I first came here, I learned from the Master and my two seniors. Ilwon Academy has always done things this way. Just return them when you don’t need them anymore.”
“Fourth senior.”
“If you want to thank me, ask Kkamangi for a late-night snack sometime.”

His serious expression crumbled the moment he spoke those last words.
The instant Yuk Beom set the two manuals on the table in his room, two objects flew through the open window.
Thump! Thump!
They were martial texts from Cho Cheon and Cho Haeng.
Cho Haeng’s voice came from beyond the door.

“If you only look at Han Pung’s, your head might go dull—study ours too.”

Cho Cheon’s laughter followed.

“Ask if there’s anything you don’t understand.”

Their recitation grew loud again shortly after.
Yuk Beom stared at the four volumes for a long while.
In the Yuk Clan, he could scarcely remember receiving anything from someone of the same generation. Yet here, people he’d met only a day ago had thrust their martial texts into his hands first.
Something strange and hot rose up inside his chest.

“I won’t disappoint you.”

He opened Han Pung’s manual first.
Within a few pages, he understood why the two seniors had held him back. It required a special constitution, and when properly deployed, it was a destructive art that would sweep through everything around it.

‘It doesn’t suit my body type.’

He skimmed through Cho Cheon and Cho Haeng’s texts as well. There was much to learn, but like Il Cheong had said, none of it quite fit to make his own path.
Last, he opened the Basic Sword Technique.

The first pages contained the most elementary movements—cuts, thrusts, upward strikes.

‘Is this truly just an ordinary manual?’

He turned the page.
A single cutting motion branched into more than twelve hundred variations—the Shallow Horizontal Cleave, the Bow Horizontal Cleave, the Returning Sweep, the Blocking Horizontal Cleave, and on and on. Every movement detailed the angle of the foot, the height of the wrist, the precise moment to add force and withdraw it.
As the pages deepened, cuts linked to thrusts, blocks interwove with deflections. When the eighteen basic movements tangled together, the variations multiplied from thousands into tens of thousands.
Something shifted in Yuk Beom’s eyes.
There were no elaborate secrets, no flowery rhetoric.
When the opponent cuts from above, block from the side.
Once blocked, if the sword tip opens, thrust.
If you cannot thrust, rotate your wrist and deflect.
Truths so obvious that no one would think to write them down were woven together without a single gap.
But what if one completely mastered all of that obviousness?
What if from any stance, you could draw the perfect sword?
Yuk Beom’s hand turned the next page.
And then the next.
This was not the book gathering dust beneath the bed.
It was an ocean—the sword as a weapon broken down finely from beginning to end.

“So there was a reason the Sageun smiled.”

Yuk Beom, the Weaponless Heavy Sword now resting on his knee, sank deep into the manual.
Night descended, yet he never thought to light the lamp.
To him now, not a single page seemed ordinary anymore.

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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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