The Terminally Ill Young Master of the Baek Clan

Chapter 312: Yi-gang And The Unorthodox Sects' Successors (3)

The place Gal Dong-tak led him to housed a disciple of the Crimson Moon Demon Mistress.

Among the disciples of the Sword Pavilion, including Na Hee-yeon, many were well-versed in playing the guqin.

But could Blood Rakshasi Wi Hyang, who was known to have a rivalry with Na Hee-yeon, also play a musical instrument?

She held a pipa in her hands.

With its round body resting on her thighs and the elongated headpiece held as if she were embracing it, her posture was poised.

“Blood Rakshasi Wi Hyang.”

“…”

She did not answer Yi-gang’s call, only raising her eyes slightly.

Her eyes were tinged red, possibly from the crimson makeup she wore.

Didi-ding— Ding—

Her fingers moved swiftly.

Compared to Na Hee-yeon’s mastery of the guqin, her skills fell noticeably short. Even though the pipa, by nature, was faster and more ornate than the guqin, the gap in skill was apparent.

Yi-gang could tell quite a bit about Wi Hyang just from her melody.

It was clear that, unlike Na Hee-yeon, she did not play music out of genuine love for it.

Taking advantage of Wi Hyang’s flashy pipa performance, Yi-gang dodged the hidden throwing weapons that flew from her hand.

Pak!

He didn’t just dodge it. Yi-gang caught the projectiles and examined them.

There were two throwing daggers without handles.

They were made of a flexible material, small enough to be concealed in the palm of one’s hand.

“Your habits are poor.”

Moreover, the blade of the daggers was coated with a faint dark blue substance.

“And they’re even poisonous.”

They were laced with poison.

A distinctive pungent smell of Mafeisan poison emanated from the blades.

Yi-gang smirked and swung his hand.

Swish!

Though not elegant, his throw was swift and precise.

Startled by the sharp momentum, Wi Hyang panicked and raised her pipa.

The dagger embedded itself into the pipa.

Ping, ping, ping!

The tightly stretched strings snapped, recoiling and leaving a scratch on Wi Hyang’s cheek as they sprung back.

Without hesitation, she charged at Yi-gang.

She then swung her pipa as a weapon.

Yi-gang, with lightning speed, drew the Shooting Star Fang and countered.

A pipa made of wood could not possibly withstand the meteorite sword.

However, Yi-gang didn’t manage to split the pipa in two.

Ka-ga-gak!

He had only partially cut into it.

The fact that the sword was firmly stuck meant that Wi Hyang had infused Qi into the pipa.

Infusing Qi into a piece of wood was no trivial feat, suggesting the pipa might have a metal core inside— a reasonable assumption.

Yi-gang attempted to pull his sword out, but he couldn’t.

Wi Hyang had decisively let go of the pipa.

Then, she pulled out a small dagger from her robe and thrust it directly at Yi-gang’s abdomen.

“Ha,” Yi-gang laughed.

Wi Hyang failed to pierce Yi-gang’s internal organs.

Thanks to the swift movements based on the Radiant Shadowless Art, her dagger slipped through the gap between his underarm.

Yi-gang embraced both of Wi Hyang’s arms tightly.

His lips moved closer to her ear.

“You should’ve used the chained sickle.”

“…!”

Bold and unexpected ambushes were effective.

But when they failed, they invited fitting retaliation.

Yi-gang drove his knee into Wi Hyang’s abdomen.

Thwack!

“Urgh!”

A loud, bursting sound echoed as a pained gasp escaped Wi Hyang’s lips.

Even then, Yi-gang did not release her hands.

He pinned her immobilized body down and twisted the wrist holding the small dagger.

With a cracking sound, the dagger fell and rolled across the floor.

“You… you dog-like bastard…!”

Wi Hyang’s eyes burned with rage.

Though she had shown composure earlier, her true temperament seemed fiery and intense.

Yi-gang responded by twisting her restrained wrist further.

Crunch—

“Aagh! You son of a—!”

He did not finish her off. After all, the duel was less than a month away.

After subduing Wi Hyang, Yi-gang paused to think for a moment.

‘She’s resourceful and doesn’t hesitate to use poison. If we duel, someone might end up dead.’

Wi Hyang, who had been struggling, naturally swung her leg upwards.

Ordinarily, such a clumsy move wouldn’t require evasion—it was just a flailing gesture.

But Yi-gang ducked swiftly.

From the tip of her shoe, a sharp blue blade suddenly sprung out and then retracted.

Yi-gang let out a laugh of disbelief.

“…”

Wi Hyang, suddenly calm, gave a sly grin.

With an expressionless face, Yi-gang struck her throat.

Pak!

Wi Hyang lost consciousness immediately.

“…Huh.”

Watching this, Gal Dong-tak and Seomun Cheong were left speechless.

When they heard that Yi-gang, someone their age, would be visiting, they had no particular expectations.

And yet, what was the result?

Yi-gang had single-handedly taken down the successors of the unorthodox sects, one by one.

Brutally and decisively.

Yi-gang glanced briefly at Gal Dong-tak.

“What are you doing, not looking for the last one?”

“Oh, uh, Brother Jeon Pae is…”

Seomun Cheong followed Gal Dong-tak and Yi-gang, feeling an indescribable and strange emotion.

Soon, Yi-gang found the Black Spear White Shield Jeon Pae, napping.

Yi-gang woke him up and, to his surprise, handed him a spear and shield.

Then, he mercilessly beat him up.

“…Hmm. This should do.”

With that, Yi-gang left, satisfied, as if there was nothing more to see, leaving only physical and emotional scars for the successors of the unorthodox sects.

Yi-gang reflected deeply.

What would happen if the successors of the unorthodox sects were to face the five successors under his charge?

‘They’re still lacking.’

Though he had suspected it before, this experience confirmed it again.

The successors of the unorthodox sects were stronger.

As he thought about why that might be, he realized it wasn’t because their martial talent was superior to those of the orthodox sects.

While it’s difficult to define exactly what martial talent was, Yi-gang believed that the most talented individual was Ha-jun.

It wasn’t just because he was his brother—thinking of the heroic spirits he had encountered so far confirmed it.

Whenever Ha-jun wielded his sword, he became a completely different person.

He turned sharp and emotionless, like a single blade.

That was probably the true state of sword-body unification that the Immortal Divine Sword had spoken of.

There were several reasons why someone like Ha-jun had not yet reached the pinnacle of martial arts.

He had not crossed the brink of life and death often, and his identity as an orthodox sect member held him back.

It was only natural. The people who taught him and those he learned from were all great heroes of the orthodox sects.

These qualities were shared by the other four as well.

‘More than anything, they lack inner power.’

Yi-gang identified that as the biggest issue.

For Yi-gang himself, a lack of inner power was rarely a problem.

He was not a swordsman who recklessly unleashed sword energy or waves, depleting the essence in his dantian.

Instead, he utilized the spiritual energy of his upper dantian and the qi of his middle dantian. This was, of course, a habit developed due to the curse of the Great Yin Meridian Blockage.

In moments of extreme crisis, the supreme beings of the past had borrowed Yi-gang’s body, so even now, at his current pinnacle, he didn’t rely heavily on the quantity of inner power.

‘Even those raised with the support of the great sects seem to have their limits.’

Ha-jun had taken a few doses of elixir.

The others had as well. Yet, there remained a gap in the amount of inner power.

There were likely two causes for this.

‘Maybe their parents or masters provided them with more elixir.’

In truth, the unorthodox sects were more adept at earning money.

Since they didn’t shy away from illegal or antisocial means, their wealth was vast—enough to build mountains of gold coins.

It’s possible they used that money to secure and feed their disciples rare elixirs.

‘The slower progress of orthodox martial arts compared to unorthodox arts might also be a factor.’

The older the martial arts of Taoist or Buddhist origins, the slower the cultivation of inner power tends to be.

However, in Yi-gang’s eyes, it seemed that aside from Na Hee-yeon, who had already reached the pinnacle, the other four would soon break through as well.

‘A way to increase inner power and break through the pinnacle barrier in just a month…’

Anyone would say such a feat was impossible, yet Yi-gang pondered it seriously.

It didn’t seem entirely unachievable.

As he contemplated, Yi-gang lifted his head.

In the inner courtyard, the Wandering Crescent Blade Byeok Gi appeared.

His face looked utterly exhausted.

“…It seems you’ve had a rough time too.”

Yi-gang glanced down at his attire.

It wasn’t in pristine condition. His clothing was slightly torn.

Although there were no signs of real injury, it seemed the Wandering Crescent Blade had misunderstood.

“Well, something like that happened.”

“I…”

The Wandering Crescent Blade’s appearance was far more battered.

His shirt was torn straight down, exposing his chest and stomach.

He looked like a fire farmer with dirt and dust covering his entire body, reinforcing the impression.

“You’ve been through a lot, I see.”

Yi-gang frowned.

The Wandering Crescent Blade wasn’t weak at all. Among the five successors, Yi-gang believed no one could defeat him.

But what could explain the Wandering Crescent Blade’s disheveled state?

If he had endured such hardship, the successors must have fought with everything they had.

‘I definitely told them to hide their true skills.’

Could they have lost control of their tempers and forgotten Yi-gang’s advice?

If that were the case, Yi-gang resolved to scold them thoroughly upon returning.

However, the Wandering Crescent Blade shook his head.

“The hardship is always yours to bear.”

“Pardon?”

“They’re insane bastards…”

The Wandering Crescent Blade pounded his chest as if overcome with anger.

“Fine, I can tolerate them doing crazy things out of the blue. But what’s with ganging up on me and beating me down when I suggest we duel one-on-one?!”

The Wandering Crescent Blade shouted as he yanked at his tattered collar.

“Look!”

“…What am I supposed to look at?”

Though his body was well-trained, Yi-gang had no interest in looking at another man’s bare body.

Frustrated, the Wandering Crescent Blade pointed to his neck.

“Look closely! I got bitten!”

There was a glaring red bite mark on his neck.

“That beggar bit me!”

“…Good grief.”

Had Yi-gang’s advice to act foolishly been interpreted as acting downright insane?

Yi-gang resolved to praise Noh Shik when he returned.

“Good grief. Really, what nonsense…”

With a heavy sigh, the Wandering Crescent Blade stomped off, his exasperation palpable.

Yi-gang also returned to the left courtyard.

“If those lunatics are the future of the orthodox sects, then the orthodox sects of Murim are doomed,” the Wandering Crescent Blade muttered as he walked away.

Then, he returned to the right courtyard.

“…What the.”

The right courtyard was completely empty.

He had no way of knowing that the five successors, who had taken a thorough beating, were each holed up in their rooms groaning in pain.

Shaking his head, the Wandering Crescent Blade entered his room and took out his writing tools.

“Ugh, alright…”

He ground the inkstone and began writing a letter.

Although the Wandering Crescent Blade was a former vagabond, he was a man with ambitions to one day establish his own proper martial sect.

His handwriting was sloppy, but he could still write.

He began to document his observations about the orthodox successors in detail.

Including what kind of “support” they might need.

“Perfect.”

Originally, external support or interference was forbidden after the successors’ duels had been agreed upon.

But since when did the unorthodox sects care about keeping promises?

Tonight, it happened to be a moonless, dark night.

At the end of the hour of the Ox—the darkest part of the night—the Wandering Crescent Blade stepped outside.

Standing in front of the right courtyard wall, he carefully calculated the direction.

He tied the letter to an arrow and nocked it onto the bowstring.

The arrow, as well as the letter, was coated with black ash, making it nearly impossible to see.

He pulled back the bowstring…

Ting—

The black arrow flew to its designated target.

The Wandering Crescent Blade smirked and returned to his room.

Meanwhile, Yi-gang.

At that very moment, Yi-gang was on the roof with Noh Shik.

“…What’s that?”

Yi-gang frowned as he watched an arrow fly across the sky.

“Pardon? What is?”

“That arrow—it looks like it has a letter tied to it.”

Noh Shik followed the direction Yi-gang was pointing.

But even with his martial artist’s trained eyes, he couldn’t see the arrow—or anything else.

“It fell. An arrow with a letter attached just flew by.”

“Pfft, those cowardly unorthodox bastards.”

Noh Shik grumbled, cursing under his breath.

Yi-gang spoke without a hint of amusement, “Hurry up and do it.”

“Yes, koo-oo, koo-oo.”

Noh Shik made bird calls as he had been doing, producing an uncanny imitation of an owl’s hoot.

Soon, an owl fluttered down onto the eaves.

Noh Shik tossed a pre-captured mouse to the owl.

The owl, delighted, flapped its wings and swallowed the mouse in one gulp.

During this time, Noh Shik tied a letter that Yi-gang had written to the owl’s leg.

“Off you go.”

The owl flew back in the direction it had come from.

The letter would reach the Beggars’ Gang Leader and the masters of the orthodox sects.

“Bring back some elixirs on your return.”

Not long after, six elixirs in pill form would be delivered to the left courtyard through certain means.

Suddenly, Noh Shik asked as if it had just occurred to him.

“But why six? Not five?”

Yi-gang descended from the eaves without answering.