Ultimate Martial Venerable - Chapter 42

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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 42. This Time, I Shall Go
Five months had passed.
Yuk Beom still had not let the Basic Sword Technique

slip from his hands.
He turned pages even while eating, and at night he took up the Weaponless Heavy Sword

and repeated the same movements hundreds of times over. Downward strikes, thrusts, upward sweeps, blocks. The eighteen basic movements that had once felt disconnected began, at some point, to flow into one another.
Which angle to block when an opponent struck from above, where to transition when a thrust went wide, how to redirect an opponent’s force before blades even met—the book contained it all. Each movement came with more than a thousand variations, and as they linked together, no end seemed in sight.
Yuk Beom did not stop at memorizing them one by one. He repeated until he could see the blade paths with his eyes closed, and he chose the shortest response to imagined attacks. Before long, even without opening the book, tens of thousands of variations flowed through his mind of their own accord.
Han Pung had taken to calling him “the fanatic.”

“Little brother, a person has to play sometimes. Just over one mountain and you’re at Pyomyo Academy, and I hear they’ve got some new female disciples there—real beauties.”
“I’ll pass.”
“There are lessons in life that no book can teach you.”

When Yuk Beom turned a page in response, Han Pung clicked his tongue.
That evening, Han Pung took Cho Cheon and Cho Haeng and actually made the trip to Pyomyo Academy. The three of them had set out with their finest clothes adjusted and brimming with confidence.
When they returned, all three had swollen faces.

“What happened?”

Han Pung hid his torn sleeve at Yuk Beom’s question.

“The people at Pyomyo Academy were a bit rough in their hospitality.”

Cho Haeng added coldly,

“The fourth brother vaulted the wall first.”
“The path led that way.”

Cho Cheon rubbed the bruise around his eye and laughed.

“Since they were all women, I couldn’t bring myself to use my full strength. Next time, I’ll just study like the little brother says.”

Yuk Beom looked between the three in turn, then lowered his gaze back to his book.

“That would be for the best.”

Cho Cheon and Cho Haeng had nothing to say in return and looked away. Only Han Pung spoke up, as if aggrieved.

“Little brother, if you’d come along, we might not have ended up like this.”
“I wouldn’t have drawn my sword against women either.”
“See? We really are cut from the same cloth.”
“I also wouldn’t have vaulted the wall.”

Han Pung fell silent.
But his interference did not stop after that.
He tried to steal the book and failed, then poured water over Yuk Beom’s head. One day he even switched it out for a different one.
Yuk Beom closed the book the moment he turned the first page.

“Han Pung.”
“What?”
“The Basic Sword Technique

doesn’t involve two people crossing blades and ending up on a bed together.”

Laughter erupted from Cho Cheon and Cho Haeng outside the door.
Yuk Beom found it absurd, but he felt no anger. Even as he was hampered, his training never faltered, and whenever he opened the door, someone was always there to speak with him. It was an everyday life he had never known in Ganglim Castle.
Han Pung cleared his throat awkwardly, concealing the reclaimed book in his arms.

“The sword art begins and ends in the space between people.”
“That training, you’ll have to pursue on your own, Elder Brother.”

Life at Ilwon Academy was chaotic, but Yuk Beom’s training remained unshaken.
Kkamangi had grown considerably in that time. Now his frame matched an ordinary wolf’s, and his black hide was hard as steel. When they climbed the mountain, even low-grade Desolate Beasts

shrank back at a single howl from him.
Cho Haeng had taken the beast up into the mountains and returned with three times his usual haul of prey. When Kkamangi let out a single cry, the low-grade Desolate Beasts pressed themselves flat against the earth, and those that fled couldn’t escape the blur of black lightning that was his speed.
Il Cheong called Kkamangi aside over several days and transmitted to him the Howling Heaven Beast Method.

Every night, a strange sight unfolded at the courtyard entrance. The great black beast sat with his front paws resting on his knees like a man, assuming the Five Hearts Toward Heaven posture, drawing in the Solar and Lunar Essence.

When Han Pung tried to grab the creature’s tail, he kept missing, and Kkamangi even let out a derisive snort.

“Yuk Beom, your beast grows more like his master with each passing day.”
“In what way, sir?”
“He’s mastered the art of ignoring what people say.”

That morning, Il Cheong made preparations to depart for Oryeong Mountain.

“My senior’s training must be coming to an end. He’s been holed up behind Oryeong Mountain for years now—I need to fetch him. I’ll bring him back within a few days. Until then, stay out of trouble and keep your heads down.”

Han Pung struck his chest.

“Sageun, you can trust me.”

Il Cheong didn’t answer, only looked at Cho Cheon and Cho Haeng.

“Keep a close watch on Han Pung.”
“Yes.”

Both answered in unison.
Not long after Il Cheong’s departure, Cho Haeng came running up the mountain path. His clothes were torn in several places, and cuts marked his arms and shoulders.
Han Pung’s expression hardened at once.

“Third Brother, who did this to you?”
“Men from Cheonin Academy. Second Brother is surrounded.”

The wounds visible between the torn fabric were each thin and deep—the work of many swords, not one or two. It meant Cho Haeng had broken through an encirclement alone.
Cho Haeng lowered the axe from his back and caught his breath.

“Hide this for now. And come with me immediately.”

Yuk Beom closed his book.

“I’m coming too.”

Three pairs of eyes turned toward his empty hands. For five months, the book he’d never set down was left on the table for the first time.
Han Pung’s lips curved upward.

“Is your training finally over?”
“I’m going to find out.”

Yuk Beom, the Weightless Heavy Sword strapped to his back, looked toward Kkamangi.

“Guard the house.”

Kkamangi’s tail swished in displeasure, but he didn’t follow.
The three of them crossed Unsan

and made for Cheonin Academy.
After running nearly two leagues, the sound of clashing blades and curses reached their ears. In the center of a clearing surrounded by hundreds of disciples stood Cho Cheon, cradling an enormous tree.
The timber stretched dozens of paces in length, its trunk so thick that ten men linking arms could scarcely encircle it. Despite the countless scars where swords and axes had struck, its bark remained mostly intact. The name Thousand-Year Iron Tree was no exaggeration.
Han Pung shoved through the crowd.

“Who dares lay a hand on our second brother!”

A Cheonin Academy disciple thrust an accusing finger.

“You invaded our lands and felled the Thousand-Year Iron Tree

that the Sageun himself cultivated!”

Yuk Beom’s feet stilled.

“Second Brother. Is this true?”

Cho Cheon laughed awkwardly from behind the tree.

“I was searching for fine timber to build your house, and things turned out this way. We couldn’t very well have you continue sleeping in the First Brother’s quarters. And if we’re building, shouldn’t we use wood that lasts?”

Cho Haeng wouldn’t meet their eyes either. The two of them had apparently come here without a word to Yuk Beom—and borrowed the Sageun’s axe to do it.
Exasperation warred with a sudden warmth blooming in his chest. His two brothers had made enemies of all Cheonin Academy for a task he’d never even asked them to undertake. Before questions of right and wrong could form, he saw only their intent.
Still, a wrong was a wrong.
Yuk Beom spoke in a low voice.

“Then shouldn’t we return it and leave?”

Han Pung straightened at once.

“Heaven’s gift belongs to those fated to receive it. For a thousand years no one could fell this tree—but our second brother did. That means the wood chose us.”

Curses erupted from the crowd.
Alone against hundreds, Han Pung didn’t yield a word. For every provocation hurled at him, he returned ten. When they invoked their clan, he countered with the honor of the Death Gate. The few who stepped forward he felled with two punches, without even drawing a blade.
The Cheonin disciples who’d raised their voices at first fell silent one by one as half a watch passed. There were those who grew tired of cursing, but none who ever bested Han Pung at it.
As Yuk Beom watched in a daze, Cho Haeng tapped his shoulder.

“You need a thick face to cultivate properly. Now that you’ve come to Ilwon Academy, get used to it.”
“I’ll practice that skill later.”

After nearly half a watch of trading insults, Han Pung finally spoke the words he’d been seeking.

“If words won’t settle this, send out one representative. If I win, we take the iron tree. If I lose, we return it and apologize.”

Hyeon Gong stepped forward from Cheonin Academy.
A large man wielding a massive Profound Demon Blade met Han Pung head-on. Their realms appeared equal, but the moment their blades touched, the gap became clear.
Hyeon Gong poured strength into both arms, driving the Profound Demon Blade forward. Han Pung received the blow with one hand, his feet not moving an inch. He twisted his wrist lightly, and the Profound Demon Blade snapped upward instead. Three streaks of sword light followed, slashing across Hyeon Gong’s shoulder and thigh.
Hyeon Gong, consumed with rage, brought down a cleaving strike that split the earth. Before the blade even made contact, fissures tore across the ground and stones shot upward in all directions.
Han Pung planted the Jade Water Long Sky Sword

into the earth.
Blue, wave-like sword energy swept across the clearing. The fractured ground leveled itself, and the scattered stones and soil settled in an instant. As the energy passed, Hyeon Gong’s Profound Demon Blade shattered from hilt to tip.
On one knee, Hyeon Gong did not rise again.
Han Pung withdrew his blade and tilted his chin skyward.

“As promised, I’ll take the Thousand-Year Iron Tree with me.”

Cho Cheon hoisted the enormous timber onto his shoulder.
In that instant, a silver long sword flew through the air and planted itself before him.

“You walk into another academy’s branch, steal their treasure, beat a single student, and think you can just leave?”

The crowd parted sharply to either side.
A man in white robes strode forward, four long swords strapped across his back. His face was pale and refined as polished jade, and with each step, the disciples around him opened a path. A few female students even called out his name in cheer.
I Baek, the Gentleman Swordmaster.
An elite disciple who had spent three years at Cheonin Academy, a swordsman who wielded four blades with effortless grace.
Han Pung’s expression hardened.
I Baek refused to honor Hyeon Gong’s promise. He invoked the name of the Gentleman Swordmaster itself, declaring that if Cho Cheon could defeat him, no one at Cheonin Academy would ever challenge them again over the iron tree.
Cho Cheon fell silent for a moment.
Yuk Beom spoke up.

“Second brother, why do you hesitate?”
“The martial arts I’ve learned from Sageun Il Cheong cannot be used against my fellow disciples. To break that rule means expulsion.”

Han Pung bared his teeth.

“The rule applies to all of us—from the senior disciples down to the three of you. The Sageuns didn’t teach us their arts to kill our brothers. If they had, Ilwon Academy would still be stuck in last place.”
“What is I Baek’s cultivation stage?”
“Inner Strength Stage, level eight or nine. He’s been here more than three years now, and he’s perfected both swordplay and footwork.”

A question flickered in Yuk Beom’s eyes.

“Isn’t the Martial Arts Academy a place where students only stay for three years?”

Cho Cheon shook his head.

“Those who fail to reach Inner Strength Stage, level five, within three years must leave. They call it graduation, but it’s really a judgment that they have no further value to teach. Conversely, disciples with enough talent and skill can stay for ten years if they choose.”
“I see.”

Cho Cheon’s hand stopped above the hilt of his sword.

“If we fight, I cannot use the martial arts I’ve learned from my Sageun. Against him, that won’t be easy.”
“Then it’s all right.”

Yuk Beom stepped forward.

“Second brother, let me do this.”
“Youngest, the opponent is Inner Strength Stage, level eight or higher.”
“As long as he’s not in the External Force Realm, it’s fine.”

Five months of training in the Basic Sword Technique

—it was time to see if it worked in real combat. In the book, he had fought ten thousand battles. Each time his opponent cut, thrust, feinted, or pressed with strength, he had chosen the perfect response.
But the sword in his mind was not the same as the blade he swung at a living opponent. What he needed now was not another explanation, but a real adversary.
Cho Cheon gazed into Yuk Beom’s eyes for a moment, then stepped aside.

“Good. If it gets dangerous, I’ll step in at once.”

I Baek swept his gaze over Yuk Beom’s flame-like Fusion Strong Energy

and smirked.

“Inner Strength Stage, level three. So Ilwon Academy is now using recruits as shields.”
“Will you attack first, or shall I?”
“I have no intention of drawing my blade against someone six stages below me.”

Yuk Beom lifted the Weightless Heavy Sword.

“Then I’ll go first.”

His foot touched the ground.
The distance of ten paces vanished in a single breath.
The blade that swung down held no ornate forms, no explosive Gangjing.
Just the ordinary downward strike of the Basic Sword Technique.

I Baek raised his silver long sword lightly to guard.
Clang!
His smile vanished.
Both his feet sank nearly an inch into the earth. His wrist holding the long sword trembled, and the blade’s tip drooped sharply downward.
For the first time, wariness flickered in I Baek’s eyes.
Yuk Beom withdrew the Weightless Heavy Sword.
The first strike he had honed over five months was only now truly beginning.

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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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