The method of countering a martial technique isn’t all that different from dismantling the 108 Arhats Formation Seo-jun had previously faced.
However, the formation relied on the unity of 108 individuals, making it relatively easier to disrupt. In contrast, martial techniques posed a far greater challenge.
The reason was simple—martial techniques functioned internally within the practitioner’s body.
To interfere with that? If it were possible, one could simply twist their meridians, leaving them coughing up blood and collapsing.
But unless there was an overwhelming difference in skill, such actions were impossible. Therefore, when it came to martial techniques, one had to unravel the results rather than interfere with the process.
To do this, Seo-jun categorized martial techniques into three components: Form (형), Intention (의), and Energy (기).
Form referred to the external structure of the technique—the way the sword was gripped, the stance, the footwork, the arc of the swing, and the subsequent movements. Seo-jun classified all physical motions under the umbrella of Form.
Next was Energy.
This included all actions derived from internal energy—how the internal energy coursed through meridians, how it was released as sword energy, how it reinforced the body, and various other effects it produced.
Finally, Intention.
Intention was the overarching principle that connected Form and Energy. It represented the singular, guiding purpose of the martial technique.
If Form and Energy built the framework of a technique, then embedding Intention turned it into a cohesive, complete art.
This made sense.
In a single battle, countless possibilities and situations arose. Mastering the Form and Energy of a technique wouldn’t be enough to account for every eventuality.
The answer to this was Intention.
A martial art guided by a unifying principle allowed its practitioner to respond to all scenarios intuitively.
This was why higher-tier martial arts often included cryptic, abstract phrases in their mantras.
When mastered, the embedded Intention became a mindset, forming the essence of the practitioner’s spirit. Once Form, Energy, and Intention harmonized, true martial mastery could be achieved.
Of these three elements, Seo-jun focused primarily on Intention and Energy when countering techniques.
Take Ju Cheol-yak’s Celestial Flame Supreme Art, for example. Its Form could broadly be categorized as swordsmanship.
Seo-jun wasn’t particularly confident in swordsmanship, so he swiftly disregarded it.
Next was Energy—manifesting suns, imbuing attacks with tremendous power, and so on.
Finally, Intention, the essence of the Celestial Flame Supreme Art.
Seo-jun had observed it multiple times. By deducing how Intention influenced Energy and how Energy reflected Intention, he had unraveled most of the art’s mechanics.
Having understood both Intention and Energy, he could also infer the Form.
From there, it was simple—twist what he saw.
Ju Cheol-yak’s tendency to use martial arts in a straightforward, brute-force manner made the process even easier.
“At this point, I could probably counter any move in three strikes,” Seo-jun mused, walking confidently through the Imperial Villa as if it were his own.
Despite some security measures, it was, after all, just a villa. Seo-jun’s Moonlit Phantom Steps rendered him untouchable.
Finding Ju Cheol-yak’s presence wasn’t difficult.
“Seventh floor, huh.”
The tall structure piqued Seo-jun’s curiosity. With three agile leaps, he perched on the roof, hanging upside down to observe the scene inside.
“That arrogant brat…!”
Ju Cheol-yak was throwing a drunken fit—or so it seemed.
A closer look revealed he wasn’t drunk at all.
Though he had been pouring liquor down his throat, his internal energy coursed through his body, neutralizing the alcohol instantly.
“Please calm down, General…”
The women surrounding him tried to soothe him with forced smiles.
“Shut up! What would a woman know?!”
Ju Cheol-yak’s sharp rebuke silenced them.
If they said another word, it wouldn’t be surprising if he crushed their heads on the spot.
Clicking his tongue, Ju Cheol-yak chugged directly from a bottle, alternating between drinking and raging.
His tantrum reached its peak when he finished the last bottle and hurled one of the women onto the bed.
The scene was debauched, a spectacle of indulgence and anger.
‘Wow… I wasn’t expecting martial arts porn.’
Seo-jun watched with a mix of amusement and mild disgust as Ju Cheol-yak entertained four women simultaneously.
After what felt like an eternity, Ju Cheol-yak finally rose from the bed, leaving the unconscious women behind.
Standing shirtless by the railing, he stared out the window, muttering.
Seo-jun scratched his head as he observed.
‘Should I just leave him like this?’
Ju Cheol-yak seemed on the verge of self-destruction, still unable to escape the throes of mental instability.
“…That woman…”
Suddenly, Ju Cheol-yak’s killing intent surged.
“Wasn’t she his master…? They must share an unusual bond. If I were to abduct her…”
Ju Cheol-yak’s voice dripped with malice as he plotted, his frustration and drunken haze fueling his twisted thoughts.
He understood well enough that facing Seo-jun again would yield no victory. Without unraveling the counter-technique, a direct confrontation was impossible.
Instead, he turned to other, more insidious means.
The Gold Sword Clan’s young lady—an easier target.
‘She’s only at the peak level and has no backing besides that brat.’
If he could capture her, Seo-jun would lose his footing.
As Ju Cheol-yak schemed, a chill wind blew.
For someone whose body had undergone rebirth, rendering him immune to heat and cold, the sudden sensation was unnatural.
He turned stiffly toward the source.
“Who’s there…?”
The bone-chilling aura scraped against his nerves, slowing his heartbeat.
Then, he saw him.
A man stood silently, his gaze colder than a winter storm.
Ju Cheol-yak swallowed dryly as their eyes met.
“How dare you intrude here!”
He barked, but the man remained silent, his icy eyes fixed on him.
Ju Cheol-yak felt his presence crushed under the weight of the man’s gaze.
This wasn’t just a warrior—it was a predator.
Desperately rallying his courage, Ju Cheol-yak grabbed his sword and glared.
The man’s voice broke the silence.
“Draw your blade.”
Shaking, Ju Cheol-yak unsheathed his weapon.
In its reflection, he saw himself—a pitiful, naked figure.
The realization struck like lightning.
Anger flared in his eyes as he roared, “You’ll regret this!”
Moments later, Ju Cheol-yak’s screams faded, his body encased in ice.
Seo-jun smirked at the frozen statue.
“Even when I try to let them live, they just walk themselves to their graves.”
Leaving the chilling scene behind, Seo-jun turned to the window, watching the commotion outside as martial artists gathered.
He chuckled to himself.
“Now, how should I make my exit?”
Options were plentiful.