Chapter 171: Extremity (1)

When I opened my eyes, I saw a familiar ceiling staring back at me.

"Ugh. What is this, some kind of annual tradition?"

Every year—no, roughly twice a year—I find myself staring up at this damn medical wing ceiling. As I muttered to myself, a familiar voice reached my ears.

“You are awake.”

"!?"

Startled, I whipped my head around to see Master looking down at me.

I tried to quickly sit up and bow properly, but Master spoke first.

"That's enough. What matters is the heart, not the outward appearance. Do you intend to make this old man a foolish elder who demands courtesies even from the severely injured? Hahaha.”

The way he insisted he wasn't some old-fashioned geezer made him look exactly like an old-fashioned geezer.

Completely oblivious to his own old-fashioned ways, Master looked down at me with a complicated expression, one that was a mix of satisfaction and worry.

"Now that I think about it, calling it an annual tradition... that seems pretty accurate, seeing how often you're in and out of this infirmary."

"Haha... I guess I'm just a bit unlucky, Master."

"Luck..."

Master stroked his beard with a strange expression before continuing.

"I'm not sure if it's bad luck or good luck considering how fast you're growing."

I had a pretty good idea what Master was getting at.

A certain Western philosopher once said that what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.

And in my opinion, the most intuitive embodiment of this maxim was the world-famous manga Dragon Ball.

So basically...

'I'm not a fucking Saiyan or something.'

Since I keep getting stronger every time I nearly die, Master wondered whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.

Of course, from my perspective, it was complete bullshit.

Getting stronger every time I nearly kicked the bucket wasn't exactly what I'd been hoping for.

'I don't want to die, and I don't want to get stronger either.'

The former was a given, but I wanted to avoid the latter because of the damn side effects.

Though this time, I had no choice but to get stronger to avoid dying.

Maybe it was because I was remembering what happened right before I passed out, that final sword strike I unleashed in those last moments kept flickering through my mind.

But the memory of it wasn't clear, like there was a thick fog covering it.

To clear away that fog, I felt like I needed to swing my sword right now.

My body was twitching restlessly, but strangely, I didn't feel any pain.

I definitely remembered getting the shit beaten out of me while fighting that fanatic leader at the end.

"Master, how long has it been since they brought me to the infirmary?"

"Nearly a full month has passed."

"!?"

I was unconscious for a whole month?

“Do you have any idea how startled this old man was when you were first carried in? Still, it is a true relief that you are so healthy now.”

Master added that every muscle in my body had been twisted, my internal injuries are severe and barely any of my meridians were intact.

"The Demonic Physician and I worked together for days to barely save your life. Hahaha.”

Master used his profound internal energy to support my qi and blood, while the Demonic Physician came by whenever he could to treat my internal injuries and muscles with acupuncture.

Thanks to Master continuously protecting my qi and blood, I finally entered a stable condition on the fourth day.

And now, more than twenty days later, I had finally woken up.

Master, who had been wearing a worried expression while recounting those dangerous moments, was now looking down at me with satisfaction.

"Still, it's good that you survived like this."

"That's true, Master."

"Hehe. And I heard the story too. It seems you gained quite an achievement from this battle."

"...My memory's pretty hazy, so I'm not entirely sure."

“Hmm. In that case, try to tell me about the true meaning of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword that you have come to understand.”

I furrowed my brow and tried to recall that day's memories.

The final sword strike was blurry, but I could remember most of the process of fighting that fanatic leader.

I also remembered the insights I'd gained during that process, at least somewhat.

"I believe the predecessor who created the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword was obsessed with swords, or perhaps even mad about them."

"Oh? What makes you think so?"

As Master's eyes lit up with interest, I spoke calmly.

The first fourteen forms of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword all discuss one thing.

How to swing a sword quickly. How to swing a sword powerfully. How to swing a sword accurately. How to smoothly deflect an opponent's sword. How to deploy deceptive feints.

Though there were merely fourteen forms, they contained countless principles of the sword, including strength, speed, softness, flexibility, and more.

While most martial arts typically focus on mastering one or two principles to their limits, this Demonic Art tried to encompass every principle that could be expressed with a sword.

The latter eight techniques weren't much different either. The only difference was that these techniques were performed with Sword Qi instead of wielding the sword with the body.

In other words, the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword aimed to encompass every technique and principle that could be deployed with sword and qi.

Furthermore...

"It didn't seem to aim for deploying various techniques and principles separately, but rather to harmonize them all as one."

While other sword arts dream of 'the most powerful strike' or aim for 'the fastest strike,' or like those orthodox martial arts that try to embody plum blossoms or embrace the principles of Taiji...

The Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword was an insane martial art that truly dreamed of perfecting the 'sword' itself.

“And it even uses the side effect of compulsion to achieve it.”

It was such a crazy martial art that it made whoever learned it develop mental illness just to achieve that perfection.

That's why the creator of this martial art had to be obsessed with or completely mad about swords.

As I rambled on about what I'd realized regarding the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, Master listened quietly without interrupting once. Surprisingly un-hardass-like of him.

And right after I finished explaining all my insights, Master stroked his beard with satisfaction and spoke, "Hehe. I was worried whether this old man's expectations might have been misplaced, but it's exactly as I anticipated."

"???"

As confusion filled my eyes, Master suddenly offered me congratulations.

"Congratulations, my disciple. You have begun to break free from the Extremity of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword."

"!? Wait, I didn't just reach Extremity; I've started to break free from it?"

It was shocking news that made my eyes go wide.

What was the reason I didn't want to get stronger? Why had I always slacked off at the Hall of the Demonic Way?

Because I was afraid of those damn side effects getting worse.

It was absolutely not because I was an inherently lazy person.

But if I'd reached Extremity, that meant the side effects were already at their peak.

Conversely, it meant that from now on, the stronger I got, the weaker the side effects would become.

'Training's still a pain in the ass though...'

As joy at the possibility of saying goodbye to those damn side effects mixed with my laziness, Master's voice snapped me back to attention.

"Haha. That's right. Your enlightenment has already begun to break free from Extremity. The only problem is that only your 'understanding of the sword' has broken free."

Wondering what the hell he meant now, I looked at Master who was kind enough to add an explanation.

"Your mind has awakened to the true meaning of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, but your body lacks the strength to withstand that enlightenment."

"!?"

"Even though this old man has lived for over a hundred years, this is the first time I've seen a case like yours. It's quite fascinating. So fascinating that I even had some absurd thoughts."

"What kind of absurd thoughts?"

"I even wondered if this might be what happens when an ancient master inhabits a young body through some ridiculous mystical art like Soul Transference from old legends. Hahaha.”

"......"

I almost flinched without realizing it.

While I wasn’t a grandmaster from a past era, the part about possessing a body was true.

"Ha, haha. That's a ridiculous fantasy, Master."

Feeling like things might get dangerous if the conversation went on, I quickly changed the subject.

"So what should I do from now on?"

Master, apparently dismissing soul transference as absurd, answered without suspicion.

"Obviously, you need to train. So your body can catch up to your enlightenment."

"You mean focus on external training?"

"Both external and internal cultivation are lacking. You need to expand your dantian and continuously circulate qi to strengthen your meridians as well."

After saying this, Master tilted his head and added, "Now that I think about it, it's quite strange. Your sword mastery has advanced by leaps and bounds, but your external and internal cultivation levels haven't changed much since the last time you were brought in."

Then, as if he'd figured something out, Master let out a soft exclamation and reached his own conclusion.

"You must have been too intoxicated by the side effects and focused only on swordsmanship. Hmm. That might indeed be why you're showing these symptoms."

I quietly sighed in relief.

The reason my internal and external cultivation hadn't improved much compared to last time was simple.

I'd barely trained at all.

From that perspective, my mastery of the sword should have remained stagnant as well.

It was only because crazy bastards kept trying to kill me that I'd gained all this unnecessary combat experience.

Of course, I couldn’t imagine what terrible things might happen if my Master discovered I had neglected my training for the past several months.

“Th-This incompetent disciple is sorry for repeatedly showing how he is swayed by the side effects of the Demonic Art.”

I gladly threw the side effects under the bus.

—You despicable bastard! It's all because you're lazy!

The damn side effect that had awakened in my head along with me kept nagging on something, but that wasn't my problem.

Maybe because I'd brought up the side effects, Master spoke with a serious expression.

"Listen carefully, my disciple."

"I'm listening attentively."

"Since your body can't keep up with your enlightenment, you're in quite a dangerous state right now. As I said before, until your internal and external cultivation reach levels befitting of Extremity, you must not touch a sword if possible."

Hearing Master's advice, the side effect in my head started going berserk.

—Don't listen to that demon!

—The sword! I’m telling you to grab your sword! You must perform that perfect strike from before!

It wasn't just going berserk.

Like a drug addict, my body kept trembling involuntarily, and my right hand—the one I usually held my sword with—kept twitching as if I was dying to swing a sword right now.

Observing my condition, Master frowned and shouted with his internal energy:

"HAH!!"

The tremendous demonic energy contained in that shout crushed the side effect, which retreated deep into my mind.

As my body calmed down somewhat, I cautiously opened my mouth to speak.

It was because an important problem had just occurred to me.

"Master, if nearly a month has passed since I collapsed, shouldn't I be heading out for field training again soon?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll inform the Hall Master. For the remainder of your time at the Hall of the Demonic Way, you should focus solely on training your internal and external cultivation."

It was the moment I got exempted from the Hall of the Demonic Way's educational program.

As expected, life is all about connections.