A Good Day. (2)

Gwang Cheon-il staggered backward, collapsing as the blow struck his face.

Thud!

Disbelief twisted his features.

His front teeth had been knocked out and blood streamed from his nose, but that wasn’t the real problem—he couldn’t accept that the Explosion Slaying Fierce Strike he’d trained his whole life for had been undone by a mere knee.

‘What on earth is that absurd power?’

The Yin Monster looked down at the bewildered man in silence, its gaze as if contemplating how to cook him.

At this rate, he would be dead soon.

Unable to stand by, Myeong-hwa satae darted over and yanked him backward by the shoulder.

“You old fart! I told you to do it together—why show off?!”

“…Old woman.”

“Shut up and get ready to fight.”

The two elders backed away from the Yin Monster and pressed their shoulders together, prepared to fight to the death even if it was a cowardly pact.

The Yin Monster crossed its arms and watched them.

“Very well. Then I’ll let you rest together peacefully.”

Yu Seol spread a palm; a spear flew from nowhere and nestled in her hand. The instant she gripped it, her momentum shifted violently.

Seeing that, the two old ones cursed under their breath.

“…Damn Yin Monster.”

“Let’s die together today. Enemy of the Ami Sect.”

Could their wounds have been shallow? It was absurd they were even alive, let alone trying to fight again.

Myeong-hwa satae glared at Gwang Cheon-il, asking with her eyes what had happened.

“I—I was certain the Explosion Slaying Fierce Strike hit properly…”

Yu Jinsan drove the Dragon Slaying Spear deep into the ground and leaned his weight against the shaft.

“He’s tougher than I thought. Regardless, shouldn’t we finish this? It’d be a shame to end it like this.”

Gwang Cheon-il didn’t know he had mastered the Vajra Indestructible Divine Arts, so he couldn’t understand the situation. Still, seeing Yu Jinsan leaning on the spear, barely standing, he felt a flicker of relief.

“Arrogant brat. Do you think you can fight me looking like that?”

“Of course.”

When Yu Jinsan subtly twisted his left arm, the prayer beads on his wrist snapped off and a cracking sound came from his left hand—the sealed evil power had been released.

Gwang Cheon-il and Myeong-hwa satae sensed something off and froze.

Yu Jinsan spoke quietly to his granddaughter. “We must finish quickly—step back for a moment.”

At his serious look, Yu Seol nodded without protest.

Meanwhile, furious that things had gone awry, Myeong-hwa satae trembled as she gripped her sword.

“This is your last chance, old man.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll kill him in an instant. Just hold her off so the Yin Monster can’t help.”

Yu Seol shrugged as if she had no intention of intervening.

Gwang Cheon-il and Myeong-hwa satae silently cheered. Though Gwang Cheon-il had been shocked by Yu Seol’s strike, Yu Jinsan’s injuries were worse—he leaned on the spear for support yet still dared to fight, intending to finish this swiftly.

With a shout, Gwang Cheon-il stamped the ground. The Explosion Slaying Fierce Strike was his specialty, but he couldn’t use the same technique three times in a row; he had other martial arts too. He launched a qi-laden fist aimed at Yu Jinsan’s head.

Swoosh!

Yu Jinsan offered no true defense; he merely leaned against the spear. Just as the punch was about to strike his face, his limp left hand shot up like a spear tip—what looked like a casual gesture was lightning-fast and rock-heavy. A small hand shrouded in black current struck aside Gwang Cheon-il’s fist.

“…Guh!”

Gwang Cheon-il felt his fist bounce back and was shaken, but there was no time to ponder. He recovered on his right foot and thrust his right fist again. As before, his punch was flung aside.

Pride spurred him. He furrowed his brow. ‘Oh? I don’t know what trick you’re using, but take this!’

His fists blurred into dozens and launched a relentless barrage, but as his attacks grew frantic, Yu Jinsan’s left hand—ringed in black currents—whipped out and blocked every strike. He couldn’t believe a single hand could hold him; he was dumbfounded.

Gwang Cheon-il halted and stepped back, both hands throbbing. Then he noticed both his hands were blackened and charred.

Yu Jinsan snorted. “What are you so surprised about? Where did that earlier confidence go?”

“Y-you wicked ones! Have you used demonic arts on me!?”

Strictly speaking it wasn’t demonic arts, but he had no intention of explaining the inner history of the sealed power in his left hand—he was too lazy, and they wouldn’t believe him anyway.

“Whether we’ve learned demonic arts or not is none of your concern. The old men about to die today still have lots of questions, don’t they?”

Having spoken, Yu Jinsan launched a counterattack.

Gwang Cheon-il hastily sent twin palm strikes, but he couldn’t fend off Yu Jinsan’s left hand. Their hands met briefly, then Yu Jinsan’s blow landed.

“Guhhhhh!”

He skidded backward, feet scraping the earth. A black palm print seared the fabric near his abdomen.

Yu Jinsan followed like lightning to finish him, driving him straight toward Myeong-hwa satae by chance.

Seeing that, she leapt to help without hesitation and thrust her sword at Yu Jinsan.

But Yu Seol wouldn’t allow interference. In a flash her form vanished and, before anyone realized it, she had driven her fist into Myeong-hwa satae’s flank—an uncanny quick-change technique passed down by the Sword Empress. Bent like a bow, Myeong-hwa satae collapsed instantly, and Gwang Cheon-il fell beside her. The finishing blow had been struck.

“Guhhhh…”

Yu Jinsan watched the two sprawled and groaning with disdain. It was time to finish them, but he decided to wait—they still had things to say.

Gwang Cheon-il turned his head laboriously to the right. Despite missing front teeth and a blood-smeared face, he was smiling.

“Old woman… you came out to save me just now, didn’t you?”

“…Don’t laugh. I might get attached.”

“I’m sorry, old woman… I couldn’t protect you…”

Tears welled in Myeong-hwa satae’s eyes. The old crone who seemed unflinching reached a hand along the ground toward Gwang Cheon-il.

“You ugly old fart… now let’s go… together.”

Gwang Cheon-il’s charcoal-blackened hand trembled as he reached for hers.

“Old woman…”

They clasped their wrinkled hands tightly as if never to let go.

Yu Jinsan, who had been watching quietly, flinched and heard his granddaughter sniffle. He sent a telepathic message.

• Child, why are you crying?

• I don’t know either… I was just sad.

• Life is like that; there’s nothing to hold onto. We must finish now, so close your eyes for a bit.

• Wait, grandpa. They’re pitiful.

He had been beating them enthusiastically moments ago—why did she feel pity now? It struck him as strange, but he patted her shoulder as if understanding.

• In the murim world you must harden your heart. They’re old and have lived enough, so let’s send them off together.

Yu Seol, unable to bear watching, turned away and kept sniffing.

Yu Jinsan sighed. The Emei Sect would not have spared them, but what could he do when his granddaughter’s heart was troubled?

‘…What to do. Either way, these old folks wouldn’t live long if left alone.’

After a moment’s thought, he steeled himself and crouched before the two.

“Hey, old timers. Consider yourselves lucky today.”

Gwang Cheon-il and Myeong-hwa satae, still holding hands, stared in bewilderment—saved unconditionally like this was unimaginable in the martial world. They could only blink.

Yu Seol plucked two flower petals from somewhere, squatted beside Yu Jinsan, and murmured, “But from now on, speak nicely, like this flower, okay?”

She placed the pink petals on Gwang Cheon-il’s and Myeong-hwa satae’s lips, one each. The two froze, blinking in bewilderment.

Yu Jinsan waved his left hand and delivered his last warning. “You know about us now. If you don’t have the confidence to handle it, don’t go spouting nonsense anywhere.”

If rumors spread that they had learned demonic arts, troublesome matters would follow; avoidance was better than needless trouble.

Having finished their business, the pair gathered their weapons and spoils and set off. No one blocked them until they had left Mount Emei.

Yu Seol kept grinning for some reason.

“What’s so great about being alone? Can’t you see Grandpa’s hurt?” Yu Jinsan complained; the two blows he’d taken earlier still ached.

Walking beside him, Yu Seol smirked. “I checked earlier. A little cultivation will make you fine.”

“What do you mean you checked? If Grandpa dies like this, Seol, you’ll be left alone.”

Yu Seol giggled. “Grandpa’s sturdy; you won’t die. By the way, where are we going now?”

Yu Jinsan nodded toward the bundle on her back. “First we’ll sell that for travel money. We can’t keep sleeping rough forever.”

He wanted to dispose of the bulky Buddha statue at least—it was cumbersome to carry.

“I hope we get a good price.”

“Hmm. For that we should find an expert who knows its value. Let’s head to Deokyang Mountain first.”