Descent of The Demon Master [EN]: Chapter 700

Martial arts is about accumulation. You train and train, accumulating. It’s not about piling up, but about accumulating. You engrave repeated movements into your body. You repeat and repeat. Day after day, year after year, decade after decade, you repeat and repeat. There was a time when he questioned it. Why must it be repeated so much? Mathematicians don’t endlessly repeat addition and subtraction. Even if those are the basics of mathematics, they don’t re-learn a concept they’ve already grasped multiple times. It’s the same in every field. Even in sports, where the basics are considered important, professional athletes don’t spend all day repeating basic dribbling drills. So, what is the meaning of long hours of repetition for martial artists, who have even better physical memory than professional athletes? Morikawa Atsushi couldn’t understand it. But even if he asked, he wouldn’t get a proper answer. “That’s how you learn martial arts.” “You may not know now, but someday you’ll understand the reason.” “You must repeat consistently to master it perfectly.” He only received vague, unsubstantial answers like that. But now, Morikawa Atsushi finally understood the reason. You engrave it into your body. Not in your head, but in your body. He could understand what that meant. His body was completely frozen. The moment the monster reached out, his mind went blank, and his entire body stiffened like a stone. He couldn’t even think that he shouldn’t be like this. Like a mouse that has spotted a snake right in front of it, he had simply frozen. But he moved. Swish! His sword moved along the trajectory he had swung tens of thousands, millions of times. Without thinking… Without intending to, it moved, knowing what it had to do. You engrave it into your body. That tedious repetition had just saved Morikawa Atsushi’s life. Clang! Of course, his sword didn’t injure the monster. The monster casually raised its hand and deflected the sword he had swung. His sword, which could cut through steel like it was sponge, couldn’t even leave a scratch on human flesh. “Hoo!” But at least it helped him regain his focus. Morikawa Atsushi retreated with all his might. Then, he took a deep breath. ‘That was close.’ Suddenly, sweat poured from his entire body like rain. It felt like he could wash his face with the sweat. His body understood how close he had been to death even before his mind did. If his body hadn’t moved on its own, his head would have been separated from his body by now. The tedious, repetitive training he had endured had saved his life. But that didn’t change the situation. Just creating a little distance wasn’t enough to say that this dire situation had changed. Kang Jin-ho was still standing in front of him, his eyes fixed on Morikawa Atsushi. The suffocating pressure. It felt like being left alone with a beast in a small cage. There was nowhere to run. The only option was to fight and win. ‘Has it always been this thin?’ Morikawa Atsushi’s gaze turned to his sword. Suwol [Water Moon]. That was the name of his beloved sword. Whenever he looked at his beloved sword, his mind would calm like a lake. But today, his beloved sword, which he had been with his whole life, felt thin and weak. His uneasy mind was clearly showing. Thud. Kang Jin-ho approached him. One step, then another. With each step he took, the pressure intensified. Morikawa Atsushi bit his lip. ‘If I can’t run… I have to fight.’ The realization that he absolutely couldn’t escape was pushing him forward. Turning his back on someone like this was no different from suicide. The only way out was forward. With a clear determination in his eyes, Morikawa Atsushi slowly raised his sword and pointed it at Kang Jin-ho. Kang Jin-ho’s blood-red eyes flickered. “So, you’re not trash?” A low laugh. It wasn’t mockery. Kang Jin-ho was actually impressed. He had met many Japanese martial artists, but none of them had been able to steel their resolve in front of him like this. In that sense, Morikawa Atsushi was worthy of evaluation. It wasn’t a matter of being stronger or weaker. It was a matter of whether he had the attitude of a martial artist. Kang Jin-ho smiled. Because he was covered in demonic energy, it just looked like the corners of his mouth were twitching, but it was definitely a smile. “Come on.” Kang Jin-ho snapped his fingers. It was a gesture to come at him. “You should try everything you can before you die. That way, you’ll have fewer regrets, right?” ‘This is a bizarre situation.’ A translation was coming from somewhere around Kang Jin-ho’s waist. Watching that scene made him feel drained. A bitter smile appeared on Morikawa Atsushi’s face. ‘This was a mistake from the beginning, Nakata Yuji-nim [a respectful title, similar to ‘Mr.’].’ It was impossible to face this person with this number of people. They had misjudged their opponent, so there was no excuse for their defeat. It was fortunate that only a small number of them had managed to cross the border due to the difficulty of illegal entry. If five hundred came, five hundred would die. If a thousand came, a thousand would die. This person was not someone who could be suppressed by numbers. Because he was an absolute being. Those who have reached the realm of the absolute cannot be faced with numbers. Only another absolute being can be their match. If they wanted to kill this person, Nakata Yuji should have come himself, not them. Their failure to realize that was their downfall. “Hoo…” Morikawa Atsushi’s eyes calmed down. ‘The tables have completely turned.’ Just a moment ago, he had thought Kang Jin-ho, who was so composed in the face of death, was admirable. But now, the tables had turned. The one facing death was not Kang Jin-ho, but himself. Then, shouldn’t he at least show the same composure that Kang Jin-ho had shown? Defeat was certain, but that wasn’t the end of everything. How one loses was also important. Remembering that fact once again, Morikawa Atsushi tightened his grip on his sword. The tip of the sword trembled. ‘I won’t die a pathetic death.’ He had already given up his role as a commander. He would die as a martial artist. His toes dug into the ground. Every cell in his body felt sharp and alert. Had he ever felt such a perfect state of heightened awareness in his life? It was paradoxical, but Morikawa Atsushi felt that he was in his best condition right now. The best condition he had always wanted to experience. He felt like he could control even the tips of his fingers and strands of his hair with his will. And then came the best strike. He could feel it. Every movement started from his toes. The power transmitted from the ground traveled up his legs and settled in his waist. He twisted his waist and converted the gathered power into rotational force. Then, from his chest to his arms… the power flowed through his elbows and into his sword. A magnificent inner force. It was the first time he had ever put everything into a single strike. His magnificent inner force turned his sword into a divine blade. The tip of the sword bent like a whip being swung. A combination of softness and strength, speed and power. It was truly a strike that could be called the best. A sense of fulfillment washed over him. He felt like he could cut through anything. It was absolutely impossible for a being made of flesh and blood to withstand this sword. He didn’t have to cut him down. If he could make him retreat, that would be his victory. Even if he met the King of the Underworld, he could proudly say that he was the one who made the monster retreat. He had staked his life and pride on this strike. But Morikawa Atsushi soon had to realize it. How cruel the world was. The expectation that you could achieve something if you did your best was just a nice-sounding phrase. He had constantly accumulated martial arts. He had accumulated and accumulated. But if someone had accumulated even a little more martial arts than him during that time, the difference would grow exponentially over time. And eventually, it would become a huge wall that he could never overcome, no matter what he did. Thud. The best strike. The strike that he felt he could never reproduce, the strike that he had put everything into, was caught too easily by Kang Jin-ho’s fingertips. Morikawa Atsushi’s body froze. It was blocked? Yes, it could be. He had a conscience. Even though it was the best strike he could muster, he didn’t expect to defeat Kang Jin-ho or inflict a serious injury. The best a cat fighting a lion could do was to bite the lion’s nose. But at least it shouldn’t have been like this. His all-out strike wasn’t just blocked, it was caught. “Hmm.” Reality was brutally harsh. Overcoming your limits and defeating your enemy was something that only happened in comics. It didn’t happen in reality. No matter how much a dog bared its teeth, it was still a dog. It couldn’t defeat a tiger. “Now, tell me.” Kang Jin-ho slowly reached out his hand. Morikawa Atsushi stared blankly at the hand approaching him… no, at what should be called darkness. Slowly. The burning demonic energy tickled his cheek. The sticky, hot… yet ominous demonic energy that touched his face felt like a warm snake licking his cheek. But that sensation soon disappeared. The moment Kang Jin-ho’s hand, not the demonic energy, grabbed his face, the only sensation left was a burning heat. Morikawa Atsushi’s mouth gaped open at the pain that felt like it was burning his flesh. “Who is the trash?” “Kuh…” Morikawa Atsushi resisted. If begging and clinging would save him, he would have done so. But he knew instinctively. This guy would never let him live. Then, shouldn’t he at least protect his pride? “Kill… me.” He didn’t lose his dignity until the very last moment. That was the only resistance he could offer. But unfortunately, Morikawa Atsushi didn’t know yet. Who the person who had grabbed him was. How cruel he could be. “I don’t think you’re trash.” “…?” “Everyone has a different way of valuing things. But at least by my standards, you’re not trash. In fact, I’d even say you’re a respectable martial artist.” Confusion arose in Morikawa Atsushi’s eyes. Why was this person suddenly saying these things to him? What was he trying to say… The blood-red eyes. The blood-red eyes that peeked out through the swirling black demonic energy flickered. Looking at Kang Jin-ho’s eyes, which were drawing a strange arc, an unknown unease shook him. “The one who thinks you’re trash isn’t me… it’s your superior. If it were me, I wouldn’t have sent someone like you here to die.” What was he saying? What was this guy talking about? Sent to die? Him? “Did you really not know, or are you pretending not to know? Then let me ask you one thing. Did your superior really believe that they could face me with such trash?” A laugh. A laugh mixed with madness was pushing Morikawa Atsushi to his limit.