When A Woman Harbors Resentment (2)

A slow change began in Neung Je-gang’s unconscious body. It came as the inner power scattered by Thunderclap Heaven-Sunderer returned.

What, truly, was the essence of Neung Je-gang’s martial arts?

Though he mainly used the Brilliant Yang Fiery Art, his foundational inner strength was the Demonic Mara Energy Method. The Demon Doctor’s Asura’s Dissection Divine Technique bore “Asura” in its name because he had studied the Demonic Mara Sutra and fused it with his medical arts.

Demonic Mara Energy Method!

It might not possess the overwhelming destructive force of the demonic sect’s forbidden arts, but its efficacy far outstripped other methods. One such trait was self-regeneration.

So long as true energy remained, the flesh had an instinct to restore itself to its original state.

That instinct lay within the Demonic Mara Energy Method, and the Demon Doctor, by applying the Asura’s Dissection Divine Technique to Neung Je-gang’s body, implanted a maximized regenerative capacity.

Thus Neung Je-gang’s body was rooted in the Demonic Mara Energy Method.

Huuuuum

The gathered true energy, even while he was unconscious, moved of its own accord along the meridians, much like guided breathing.

Bit by bit it opened blocked points, treated damaged flesh, and traced out energy paths—forming a new route that diverged greatly from his prior inner circuits.

At some moment, his fallen body lifted into the air. It resembled the state just after he had pierced the Gate of Life and Death.

From every pore, specialized streams of energy flowed, as before, and wrapped his body.

The stream was black. With time it turned red, and soon shifted to blue.

Up to that point it was the same as before. But the change had not ended. The blue slowly became a dazzling white, then shifted to yellow.

Yellow was the last of the colors. The broad yellow flow enfolding him compressed tighter and smaller, enclosing him like a great egg.

Yet still it was not over. As an eggshell breaks, the yellow current shattered, then the five streams he had shown—blue, white, black, red, and yellow—merged into five rings above his head.

“Mmm…!”

Neung Je-gang came to. The five rings turned back into currents and slipped without a trace through his Heavenly Spirit point.

Srrrip

Flash

As his body settled slowly to the ground, his eyes opened, shining.

“Lucky—I didn’t die?”

Unaware of what had happened while he was out, he quickly steadied himself and cultivated his breath. He had expected a wrecked state from the shock, yet strangely he felt more replete with energy, and his meridians flowed freely with no blockages.

“Could this be tied to the Demon Doctor’s handiwork? My body revives on its own?”

Vaguely, he grasped a secret of his physique.

Once recovered, he buried all the assassins he had slain with his own hands. The dead at the Famen Temple tower had been troublesome because of the monks, but here no one was watching; he could inter them.

He buried even the Pavilion Lord’s corpse, then went into the detached palace and descended below. He found the hot spring the Pavilion Lord had used, undressed, and stepped in.

“So this environment aids Thunderclap Heaven-Sunderer? Since things are like this, I’ll train a bit more here before I go.”

The water was warm; his mood eased. He seated himself where the Pavilion Lord had sat, as if he were that man himself.

“Hah!”

He then showed a brief surprise.

“As expected, not a mere hot spring.”

From the Pavilion Lord’s seat, a creeping chill seeped forth. Thunderclap Heaven-Sunderer was a consummate art of yin and yang; only now did he grasp why the training had been done in a hot spring.

“It truly is ideal for mastering Thunderclap Heaven-Sunderer. But training here for over a decade and only reaching Five Stars? The Pavilion Lord’s aptitude was poor.”

Nam Yeong had said that no matter how fine the art, if one lacked aptitude, one might train a lifetime and never cross a certain threshold. The Pavilion Lord, it seemed, had been such a case.

For Neung Je-gang, it was a blessing; for the Pavilion Lord, the worst misfortune.

Pyeon Mujang cursed his ill luck. He damned his own foolishness. He had forgotten that anyone might lose their head at the sight of a large sum.

No—he had trusted and been close with them for so long that he hadn’t imagined showing money would overturn that trust.

Betrayal was not far away. It sprouted like a poisonous mushroom right beside him, waiting for him to stumble in.

“Spare me.”

Losing the purse was painful, but he could not lose both money and life. So he begged—but those who had already drawn the blade of betrayal would not heed such pleading.

“Heh-heh-heh! Spare you? Why—so you can go report to the authorities? You think we’re fools? Well? What are you waiting for? Get rid of him.”

“Heh-heh-heh-heh!”

The conspirators each grabbed one of the many scattered swords and knives and closed in around Pyeon Mujang.

Yet none swung first. They were still resisting the act of murder itself. They did not know that this would save Pyeon Mujang’s life.

Go So-jeong reached Xi’an and caught the scent of the orchid-scent powder she had sprinkled on Neung Je-gang’s body.

“Found you!”

Though he was not yet in sight, she cried out as if she had already found him.

The place she reached was a shabby building. Inside, she found only a large display packed with weapons.

“The scent splits in two here.”

Her orchid-scent powder differed from the Ten-Thousand-Li Pursuit Incense Neung Je-gang used. Regardless of distance or time, the scent could not be erased until one washed in a special way.

She first followed one trail. It led to a building that seemed to be a smithy.

There, she found an old man surrounded by knife-wielding thugs, his life hanging by a thread. The scent came from the old man—and from one of the thugs.

Shu-shu-shu-shook

Go So-jeong struck their lethal points. She sealed all their mute points as well. Only the old man’s mute point she released—to learn why Neung Je-gang’s scent lingered on him.

When his body froze, Pyeon Mujang thought he had died. But then he saw the others could not move either. He could not tell if he was among the living or the dead.

Then a lovely woman’s voice reached him.

“I smell someone I know on your body, elder. Have you by any chance seen a very handsome man?”

“Y-yes! He bought a sword from me.”

By instinct he knew this was his last chance to live. He also understood that the reason he and the others could not move was the woman before him.

“He bought a sword? I see. Then why are those men trying to kill you?”

“T-they sold the sword and took the money he paid, and now they mean to take my life as well….”

“Is that so?”

Go So-jeong looked at the other man who carried the scent and released his mute point.

“You. Is the old man telling the truth?”

“N-no! I sold the sword. He tried to steal the money and was caught.”

He branded Pyeon Mujang a thief.

“Then do you know what he looks like?”

Remembering what she had just asked, the man answered in a rush.

“H-he’s very handsome.”

Her mood lifted at his words.

“Right. He’s very, very handsome. What clothes was he wearing?”

“T-that….”

How could he know the clothes of a man he had never seen?

“You don’t know? And you sold him the sword?”

Her face cooled.

“F-fine silk robes….”

He had meant to say “gaudy,” then changed it to “fine silk.” He was guessing from the “handsome man.”

She turned to Pyeon Mujang.

“Black clothes. Black martial garb and a black outer robe.”

Go So-jeong nodded. Now she knew who spoke truth.

It was Neung Je-gang, the assassin-problem-solver. She had never seen him in anything but black.

“The elder is right. But why does his scent cling to this man, too?”

“He has the purse that gentleman gave me. Because of that….”

“Does he?”

She drew a dagger and brought it to the man’s chest.

“Where’s the purse?”

“T-there….”

Retrieving it, Go So-jeong had to admit the scent was indeed there.

She released Pyeon Mujang’s mute point and returned the purse. She would not take what Neung Je-gang had given.

He bowed in haste and fled at once—lest she free the others and they come for him again.

After he vanished, Go So-jeong pressed the remaining men’s lethal points hard.

“You dared steal the purse my Darling gave?”

Cruelty filled her cold gaze and the upward curl of her lips.

“Aaaargh!”

“Gyaaaah!”

When their screams ended and people finally dared approach Pyeon Mujang’s smithy, they learned just how mangled a human body could become. The men were mindless from a martial-world torture known as “pulverize sinew, break bone.”

After chastising the thugs, she followed the other branch of the orchid-scent trail.

Thus she left Xi’an. Running west, she reached the temple called Famen, and the scent led to a great tower.

She went down into the tower’s basement.

“Gasp! What is that smell?”

Mixed with the orchid scent was a stench not fragrant in the least.

Corpses—corpses!

Bodies lay everywhere.

“Darling has already swept this place. Amazing… the Assassin Pavilion had a nest in a temple….”

She left the tower and, seeking the freshest-moving scent, leapt onward once more.

Skimming past Xi’an, she came to Huaqing Pool at Mount Li—where Neung Je-gang had finished the Pavilion Lord.

She blanched, realizing it was a hot spring. The way to wash off her powder was to bathe in water laced with sulfur. If he had even changed clothes, she would be ruined.

But her fear was needless. Huaqing Pool was not a sulfur spring.

Following the scent below, she saw Neung Je-gang seated in the bath. Because of the thick steam, she could see only his outline, not his features.

Even so, she did not abandon the belief that it was him. Her unique tracking powder’s final link ended there.

“Darling!”

Calling to him, she pushed through the steam. The hot waters could not stop her.

Neung Je-gang was meditating on the formulas of Thunderclap Heaven-Sunderer. Nothing seemed likely to disturb him—so he was unworried.

His skill had reached the point where even during guided breathing he could stop instantly if danger arose.

But the sudden voice echoing through the underground nearly threw him into deviation. It was Go So-jeong—the voice he had only just pried off of himself, he had thought.

Though he sat in hot water, sweat he had not shed a drop of began to bead and trickle.

Yet… why? Instead of leaning in as before—or taking an even bolder plunge—Go So-jeong stopped in front of him and did not move.

A killing aura emanated from her.

He opened his eyes.

With sharpened features and a gaze that could pierce, she glared at him and barked in a commanding tone:

“Who are you? Where did my Darling go? Answer now, or die.”

Neung Je-gang did not realize that when the Pavilion Lord blasted him down and his true energy scattered, the illusion on his face had dropped, revealing his original appearance.

‘This face isn’t exactly ugly, but….’

Only then, at her words, did he grasp that his face-swapping art had unraveled. It felt a bit unfair—but first, he had to decide how to calm the fierce woman before him.