Chapter Title: Point Cang Regression 007
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It was a situation where the spar between super peak experts had concluded far too swiftly to even call it a proper match.
The onlookers couldn't quite process this reality, their faces etched with utter bewilderment.
'Of course, it had to end this way.'
Gwang-il, the man at the center of it all, accepted the outcome with complete naturalness.
From the start, all of Point Cang's swordsmanship stemmed from a single qualification.
Even if generations had built upon it, branching out into various martial arts...
Wasn't it only natural that they all ultimately supported that one fatal strike?
Yet Gwan-ho had set aside that pristine qualification and bizarrely opted for a cleaving strike instead.
Against the swift swordsmanship that could slay an opponent through the tiniest gap the size of a fingernail, this was tantamount to offering up his own throat.
Moreover, as the former Sect Leader's disciple, hadn't Gwang-il inherited every ultimate technique of Point Cang?
While he could see through his opponent's moves with perfect clarity, Gwan-ho had no way of knowing the unique martial arts Gwang-il had independently devised after becoming the Dark Heaven Emperor.
'Even among super peaks, this was a match decided from the very beginning.'
Gwang-il was utterly convinced that, at his current level, no one in contemporary Point Cang could defeat him.
"Hah..."
Gwan-ho, blissfully ignorant of these thoughts and truths, was left dumbfounded beyond words, his mind hazy as if trapped in a dream.
'What... just happened?'
What on earth had befallen him moments ago?
By the aura he sensed and the subtle pressure emanating from Gwang-il, he had been certain he held a slight edge.
Yet this utter, crushing defeat—what could possibly explain it?
'No matter how much he's inherited the founder's ultimate legacy, hailed as the strongest in our sect's history...!'
The gap in their years was no mere handful!
When he, now past seventy, had roamed the martial world as a second-generation disciple handling real duties, this kid hadn't even debuted yet!
The difference in accumulated inner energy, battle experience, and spars was overwhelming!
And yet, all those solid advantages...
'...crumbled to dust before a single stroke of fortune?'
The decades he'd toiled away suddenly felt utterly meaningless.
From Gwan-ho's perspective, this was a once-in-a-lifetime shock, perfectly reasonable to view that way.
Hadn't he evaded a full-powered slash with just a single step?
And in the same motion, effortlessly subdued the exposed throat with exquisite precision.
This was far beyond excuses like carelessness or coincidence.
It was a blatantly one-sided exchange, impossible without an overwhelming gap.
Even his two senior brothers, whom he suspected ranked above him, couldn't claim such an easy win against him...!
"Hah, hahaha... hahahahaha!"
A brutal shock hit him like a blow from a blunt weapon, instantly clouding Gwan-ho's eyes.
Unable to withstand the sudden impact, heart demons had finally seized him.
'Not good!'
For Gwang-il, who needed to strengthen the sect even further, this was an emergency he couldn't ignore.
Fortunately, he was already prepared with a method to dispel the heart demons of a fellow disciple just entering that state.
[Senior Uncle, you can surely manage it too. Even I, a mere third-generation disciple back then, pulled it off, didn't I?]
"..."
[I'll share the insights left by our founder.]
"?!"
A sharp glint flashed between eyes shrouded like dark storm clouds.
Erasing the frustration fueling those heart demons would end it.
[But first, shouldn't you return to clarity? These insights from the founder aren't for one gripped by heart demons to covet.]
"...!"
This was the decisive blow.
Mixing in the Evil Spirit Voice—which he'd learned idly during his Evil Path Alliance Lord days—proved highly effective via transmission.
Normally, against Gwan-ho's realm and robust inner power, it would have been impossible.
'But bending someone already ensnared by heart demons is like eating cold porridge.'
Of course, if the heart demons deepened to vast proportions, infiltrating would grow difficult.
He hadn't refined such profound sorcery anyway.
This worked easily because it was a fellow Point Cang disciple, allowing him to read the inner energy flow and slip through the gap. Against an outsider, he wouldn't have bothered.
Regardless, he'd achieved his immediate goal.
"Do you... truly intend to do this?"
Gwan-ho, eyes clear once more, asked cautiously. Guessing his embarrassment, Gwang-il nodded readily.
Not much time had passed since the heart demons struck and lifted.
'From Senior Uncle Gwan-ho's position, my consideration must feel endlessly grateful.'
He'd nearly become the world's greatest fool—defeated by a lowly third-generation disciple, driven to heart demons by shame.
But his timely, masterful intervention had snapped him out quickly, with few noticing.
For an elder whose only remnants were high-level martial arts and face, this was naturally a boon.
"It's only right. It was never mine to begin with, was it?"
Gwang-il meant it sincerely.
Not just the insights and arts from the founder's secret chamber, but even the martial arts he'd perfected as the Dark Heaven Emperor—all rooted in Point Cang's teachings.
In the past, lacking sect ties to share with, he couldn't. But now, circumstances differed.
"I'll share every detail without omission. For the glorious future of our Point Cang."
"!!!"
Gwang-il flashed a smile at the teary-eyed, ecstatic Gwan-ho, then slowly nodded toward the Sect Leader watching from afar with turbulent eyes.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The shocking spar between third-generation disciple Gwang-il and second-generation disciple Tong-ryeol.
It ended with the defeat of Gwan-ho, one of the sect's top elders and a supreme expert.
Sect Leader Gwan-hae immediately convened an emergency executive meeting, summoning all elders and second-generation disciples heading various divisions to the conference hall.
The urgent agenda was, naturally, how to handle the founder's martial arts and insights passed to Gwang-il.
Seated around the vast central table with nearly thirty executives, Gwang-il conveyed his intentions without reservation.
"...Thus, this disciple shall honor the founder's will by disseminating these teachings to all disciples stationed at our main headquarters..."
"Absurd nonsense!"
His words, spilling out in haste to teach the lowest third-generation disciples first, were abruptly cut by a furious roar.
Bam!
"How dare you speak of sharing the founder's precious teachings with everyone?! What sect in the world manages its ultimate arts so carelessly?!"
"..."
'...Right. That guy's here too.'
With tasks piling like mountains, this face hadn't crossed his mind until now.
Among Point Cang's elders, one of the few Gwang-il regarded as less than human, despising and hating him.
'Gwan-jong.'
In his previous life, when the Beast Palace began eyeing Yunnan in earnest.
The ringleader of the filthy traitors who'd spouted nonsense about avoiding needless disciple bloodshed to push for peace with the Beast Palace.
'If not for that damned pig, we wouldn't have been pushed back so helplessly to headquarters!'
How many disciples had fallen for the overtures of the pro-peace faction, backed by the Yun Merchants, Yunnan's top trading group?
The sect fractured, mired in strife and resentment, ultimately yielding headquarters pathetically!
When the few remaining elders—nearing ninety—fought desperately to their deaths, memories flooded of that fat pig surrendering to the Beast Palace.
How had he forgotten this until now? His own obliviousness shocked him.
Even the top experts representing the sect falling into enemy traps at the outset—perhaps that traitor's schemes.
'How dare... how dare that scum invoke the founder!'
Had such rage boiled since his return?
The volcanic fury erupting within morphed into immense killing intent.
As the Dark Heaven Emperor, he'd have long decapitated that loathsome head.
'No, can't. Not yet... not like this.'
Fortunately, he vividly recalled the sect's self-destruction through division.
This time, he could alter the future.
But back then, he'd been a top disciple handling operations; now, just a worthless third-generation nobody...
'First, I need a position where my words carry weight.'
For that, he'd need solid backing from all executives, regardless of rank.
And outstanding achievements none could refute.
'...What a tedious, bothersome hassle.'
In the Evil Path Alliance, raw power alone would prove and convince all.
Playing righteous sect disciple again bred frustration and irritation.
But what choice was there?
To save Point Cang, it was necessary.
"Gwang-il, you brat! Think a flimsy stroke of fortune lets you disrespect sect elders to their faces?!"
"..."
'Damn it! You, I'll kill with my own hands—no matter what!'
Suppressing the killing intent threatening to leak out, Gwang-il masked his feelings with indifference and feigned ignorance, tossing a blunt retort.
"Are you, Elder Gwan-jong, dismissing the founder's insights and martial arts as flimsy?"
"Y-You punk?! What nonsense is that—?!"
"It's the exact fortune this disciple obtained. Didn't you just mock and belittle it as flimsy?"
"M-Mock?! You brat! How dare you wag that sly tongue before sect elders?!"
Gwan-jong, cornered by the precise catch, flushed beet red and spat venom. Gwang-il added calmly, as if waiting.
"What say you, Elder Gwan-ho? May this disciple share the founder's fortune with everyone in the sect, despite such dismissal? I'm starting to doubt if what I gained is truly worthless."
"?!"
To Gwan-ho, grinning at thoughts of that terrifying swift sword, this was a thunderbolt.
His erupting fury's target was obvious.
"Gwan-jong! Even at seventy, you're still the same fool?!"
"S-Senior Brother?!"
"You, who neglected training your whole life—what right have you to defy the founder's will?!"
"Th-That's not what I—!"
"Shut your trap! Before I sever your limbs for defying the ancestor's legacy right here!"
"H-Hic!"
A massive rage exploded point-blank.
Gwan-jong shuddered violently, gasping ragged breaths.
At his peak level, he couldn't withstand a mature super peak's pressure.
'Hah... So easy. Pathetically easy. How did I never do this before?'
Gwang-il savored the thrill of his ploy unfolding, like a blockage bursting open.
After rolling in the treacherous Evil Path world of betrayal, deceit, scams, and plots—climbing to Alliance Lord—such transparent righteous emotions felt childishly simple.
'Might handle this easier than thought.'
Nine years remained until the Beast Palace invasion.
He vowed to excise that traitor from Point Cang before then.
Of course, petty grudges aside, priorities demanded methodical handling first.
"We're replacing all Narrow Tip Swords with Cooperation Peak Swords anyway. Doesn't that mean everyone in the sect must learn the founder's ultimate arts?"
"Hmm... But Gwan-jong has a point..."
"The founder's will stands clear; as descendants, we must uphold it, Sect Leader."
"Hoho..."
Crushing another interrupter with ironclad justification, Gwang-il fixed an urgent gaze on Gwan-hae at the head seat.
Decide now.
Even this debating time was precious—his hidden intent pressed urgently.
Did his efforts bear fruit?
After a moment's contemplation, slow words flowed from Gwan-hae's lips.
"As Sect Leader of Point Cang, I say..."