Chapter 34: Heo-un Becomes the Wind's Wings
Explosion of Latent Energy.
This is the sudden release of one's innate primal energy.
It can be called the final flame of one's life.
In this state, the meridians rapidly expand, unblocking blood vessels and allowing one to forget pain.
Even a broken bone would no longer hinder movement. Depending on capability, one could temporarily unleash two to three times their usual strength.
The duration lasts up to half a shichen (approximately one hour).
“Yoon-ah, control the household members with the guards. Ensure no one leaves their quarters and activate the protective formation. Then stay by Grandfather’s side.”
“Yes!”
Yoon responded loudly and rushed out.
Outside, Songhwa, four guards, and Bumong were waiting. One guard reported:
“While loading three carriages, Seomun-chu was the first to collapse. The injured followers then simultaneously triggered their latent energy.”
The chaos erupted at the northern plaza.
The battle was already underway.
The Seomun faction numbered thirteen, including Seomun-chu.
Twenty-seven opponents faced them.
Despite numerical superiority, the situation was dire.
Cheonhwa Seogo’s guards, alongside Chwi Woon-gae, Jang Moon-in, Jangju, and their escorts, outnumbered the enemy twofold. Yet the struggle remained fierce.
The Seomun faction had accepted death as inevitable.
They now reaped the effects of their latent energy explosion.
Twelve were elites among elites. Even Seomun-chu alone fought three opponents with terrifying ferocity.
Astonishingly, his opponents were Chwi Woon-gae, Ban Gwang, and Yeom Hwa-gakju. Each time Seomun-chu pressed an attack, disaster seemed imminent.
Martial prowess meant nothing now.
This was no duel of equals—it was a clash between those with nothing left and those fighting to survive.
Three guards fell injured in an instant.
Sending more would change nothing.
The guards only hindered. Seomun-chu and his elites rampaged like beasts.
Even with a broken left arm dangling uselessly, Seomun-chu moved with frenzied vigor, untouched by pain.
“What do we do? Brother, think of something! We can’t just watch! Activate Cheonhwa Seogo’s formations—there must be a way to end this!”
So Cheon-gae wrung his hands.
Bumong answered:
“The formation here can’t be deployed mid-chaos. It can’t distinguish friend from foe.”
“What useless trash! Then what’s the plan?”
So Cheon-gae whirled toward Hoo Gong.
“Elder Brother, you must intervene! Elder Brother Daesa said you might be strong enough!”
So Cheon-gae’s face twisted pleadingly.
How troublesome.
Hoo Gong sighed inwardly.
Time would resolve this—half a shichen at most. Their energy would collapse like straw.
But waiting risked losing leaders to injury.
No choice.
The key lay in Rib’s Sorrow Point: a pressure node below the left rib where spleen and yin-yang meridians crossed. Severing it would cut latent energy’s flow like punctured wind.
First, Hoo Gong sharpened his inner sight.
He mapped the battlefield—palms, blades, trajectories. Movements, techniques, footwork patterns—all etched into his mind.
“Lend me your sword.”
“Huh?”
The guard stared blankly.
Swish.
Hoo Gong stepped forward, right sleeve fluttering. A sword already gleamed in his hand as he advanced with Formless Steps.
Gasps erupted behind him.
“Brother!”
“Elder Brother!”
“Young Master!”
Moments ago beside them, now he moved ahead. When had he drawn the blade? A guard gaped at his empty scabbard.
Hoo Gong accelerated into the fray.
First target: Cheolgeum Hweaju, hesitating under a palm strike aimed at his skull.
Swish!
“Gahk!”
Hoo Gong’s blade pierced Rib’s Sorrow Point. A Seomun elite collapsed mid-attack.
Before Cheolgeum Hweaju could react, the blade flashed left—two more foes fell.
“Young Master?”
Cheolgeum Hweaju’s eyes widened.
Wherever Hoo Gong’s sword struck below the chest, Seomun elites crumpled.
“Kuhk!”
“Ugh!”
“Gahk!”
Screams cascaded as elites fell. Guards stared dumbfounded—their opponents collapsing before the Young Master’s blade.
His movements weren’t swift. He paused, vanished, reappeared steps away. Each sweep of his sword felled enemies with unnatural precision.
Paths concise, strikes flawless—his motions flowed like wind over water. Preplanned trajectories and formless swordplay allowed this, yet chaos bred variables.
“Huk—Young Master Beom!”
Baekhwa Jangju’s stray palm force struck Hoo Gong’s shoulder.
Too late to dodge.
Heo-un—one of three great defenses—activated.
His body spun like wind-blown leaves, redirecting the force into his next strike.
“Kuhk!”
“Gahk!”
Two enemies fell, screams trailing. Ten collapsed in moments, tilting the battle. Allied strikes finished the rest.
Only Seomun-chu remained, desperately lashing out.
No need for Hoo Gong to act. Eunaanggai and Baekhwa Jangju joined—Ban Gwang’s spear pierced Seomun-chu’s heart as Chwi Woon-gae snapped his neck.
A painless end for one already doomed.
As Seomun-chu fell, the crowd surged toward Hoo Gong.
Some owed him their lives. Others marveled.
“Young Master, this old man owes you a debt.” Cheolgeum Hweaju bowed.
“Ten years I’ve endured—yet nearly harmed you today.”
“Heh, I heard you trained with Buntaju, but this?”
“Kekeke! How? I’ll never trust rumors again.”
“Such skill—calling you a divine prodigy isn’t excessive.”
The leaders praised, yet disbelief lingered. This defied Cheonhwa Seogo’s meek reputation. Chwi Woon-gae’s hints had been dismissed as boasts—until now.
Not all were gracious.
Eunaanggai jabbed a finger.
“Beom-hang! Brat! Step in sooner next time! Almost killed this handsome beggar!”
“Senior, why insult Brother? Shameless!” So Cheon-gae snapped.
The leaders soon departed as planned.
Next noon, a report came:
“Seomun’s forces subdued without issue. All credit the Young Master’s presence.”
With their leader and elites gone, Seomun Woong retreated into twisted schemes. Capturing strategist Baeknoe prevented chaos—past crimes now uncovered.
Cheonhwa Seogo rejoiced. The colossal threat had ended.
Yoon and Bumong bounded like children.
“Brother! Heaven watched over us! It punishes the wicked!”
“Elder Brother! This proves justice always prevails!”
Hoo Gong frowned.
What nonsense.
Had they only read formation manuals? History showed justice slaughtered countless times—senselessly, endlessly.
In a cold outer room, Seomun Woong stirred.
The heir now nursed an unimaginable desire.
“Ugh... Ryeochan...”
“Yes, Brother.”
Pyo Ryeochan stood watch—loyal to the end.
