The Transformation Stage (Hwagyeong), achieved through Orthodox Arts (Jeonggong) or Unorthodox Arts (Sagong), is characterized by the expansion of the Spirit (Shin) among the essence (Jeong), energy (Gi), and spirit (Shin), establishing a domain over the surrounding space.
In the case of Shihyeol Mancheon, it was unclear whether it was the nature of Blood Arts (Hyeolgong) or the uniqueness of his martial techniques, but he had melded his essence, energy, and spirit into his blood (or a similar conceptual form) to reach a different type of realm.
Perhaps the Extremity of Demonic Qi (Geukma) would also exhibit unique differences compared to other realms.
Seo-jun’s achieved state was similarly distinct.
In his case, rather than the expansion of the spirit, he had partially unified his essence and spirit through the amplification of energy, reaching a new realm.
Or, to be precise, he had only glimpsed the path.
“I see why the focus is on amplifying the spirit among the three components.”
The spirit represents the mind. It can also be called the soul or intent.
When the spirit is amplified, a martial artist in this realm gains a heightened awareness of their own existence.
Seo-jun’s experience differed. When his energy was amplified, the influence of his spirit diminished, and his sense of self became faint. This nearly led his body to dissolve, aligning with the nature of energy’s tendency to return to the world.
If he were to fully step into that unknown realm now, his existence might scatter and become one with the world.
While such a transformation could be considered an ascension to a higher existence, Seo-jun had no desire for such a fate.
“Using it occasionally should be fine, though.”
Even now, it felt ambiguous to call himself a Peak Level (Jeoljeong) martial artist. Without resorting to demonic transformation, he could likely compete with someone at the entry level of the Transformation Stage.
But that wasn’t what Seo-jun sought. He wanted to fully attain the realm so he could reach even higher.
“So, what do you think I’m missing to reach the Transformation Stage?”
This question stemmed from that desire.
The Sword Saint answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“Time.”
“Time?”
“Yes. What you need is absolute time. From what I see, you’ve been practicing martial arts for about twenty years. While talent can shorten the time it takes to reach a realm, it cannot eliminate the need for it entirely. Just as fruit requires time to ripen.”
Well, it hadn’t been twenty years—it had only been about two. Could this guy really be trusted?
Seo-jun scratched his chin as the Sword Saint added,
“The time for your spirit to mature. That’s all you’re lacking to reach the Transformation Stage. Although, if you ask me, achieving the Extremity of Demonic Qi might be quicker.”
“The Extremity of Demonic Qi?”
“Yes. Unlike the Transformation Stage, the Extremity of Demonic Qi involves dyeing your essence, energy, and spirit with demonic Qi and binding them together. The unification of these elements with demonic energy forms the Extremity of Demonic Qi.”
Seo-jun tilted his head in confusion.
“Uh, Chun-bong’s grandfather…?”
“Just call me senior.”
“Oh, okay. Senior, aren’t you supposed to be a master of orthodox arts?”
Was it really okay for him to recommend the Extremity of Demonic Qi to a junior?
The Sword Saint chuckled at Seo-jun’s question.
“What’s the point of distinguishing between orthodox and unorthodox? It’s all just child’s play. To me, they’re all the same.”
“Ah, I see….”
Seo-jun nodded with a peculiar expression. Suddenly, the Sword Saint asked,
“Why do you practice martial arts?”
“Why?”Did he even have a reason?
Back in his back-alley days, he had learned martial arts simply to survive. Now, he enjoyed it and had a natural talent for it, so he chose this path.
And also…
“Because power is important. Just today, if I had been weak… well, it would have been absolute shit.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes. So, why do you ask?”
“I was just curious.”
“Oh, I see.”
The Sword Saint laughed.
“Don’t forget how you feel now. It will help you in the future.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s about time.”
The Sword Saint looked up at the sky, narrowing his eyes as though gazing into a distant place. He extended his hand toward the high-hanging sun.
“This is a gift.”
Sensing something unusual, Seo-jun quickly kicked the unconscious Namgung Hyeok’s side.
“Gah…!”
Namgung Hyeok jolted awake in shock.
He still had internal injuries, but whatever was about to happen, missing it seemed like something he’d regret forever.
The Sword Saint observed the scene briefly, then extended a finger and drew a long line from left to right.
──────────────
A chill ran down Seo-jun’s spine as goosebumps covered his entire body. He quickly scanned his surroundings, but nothing seemed out of place.
Then, the world around him dimmed slightly.
“What the…?”
Seo-jun stared blankly at the sky. The sun had split in half and was beginning to fall apart.
“What the fuck…”
This wasn’t some illusion or symbolic gesture. It wasn’t just a mental projection being pierced—it was the actual sun, sliced cleanly in half.
As the fragmented sun descended, it disintegrated piece by piece. With each fragment scattering, the world grew darker.
When the sun finally disappeared entirely, the world was submerged in absolute darkness.
“Well, shit.”
Was this the beginning of an ice age? Chun-bong might enjoy it—she could make bingtanghulu by just coating fruits in sugar water and leaving them outside to freeze.
As Seo-jun stared blankly at the now pitch-black sky, the Sword Saint chuckled.
“There’s no need to be so surprised.”
The Sword Saint waved his hand, and the world flickered as if someone had spliced together fragments of a video. In an instant, light returned to the world, and the sun was once again shining in the sky.
“Wow.”
Seo-jun clapped his hands in admiration, though he had no idea how it had been done.
“Was that an Illusory Sword Technique?”
“No, I cut the concept of the sun.”
“…What?”
“It’s a type of Mental Sword Technique.”
The Sword Saint’s voice was gradually fading. Seo-jun quickly asked,
“Could you cut the real sun too?”
“Nothing’s impossible, as long as the heavens allow it.”
“No, seriously…”
What kind of force was this “heavens” that it could restrain someone who could claim to cut the sun itself?
“You’ll understand in time.”
The Sword Saint smiled.
“Let’s meet again. Perhaps you’ll ascend to the celestial realm sooner than I think.”
With those parting words, the Sword Saint’s presence vanished. Chun-bong’s body collapsed.
Seo-jun immediately caught her and pressed his ear to her chest.
Thump, thump. Her heart was beating normally. Her breathing was steady, and her internal energy flowed without any issues.
Inhale, exhale… Her breathing pattern matched Chun-bong’s usual rhythm, so Seo-jun felt a wave of relief wash over him.
“Phew… that scared me.”
Holding Chun-bong close, Seo-jun scanned the surroundings.
Nothing seemed to have changed significantly. The corpses were still corpses, and the living—while a bit dazed—were unharmed.
“Guh!”
Namgung Hyeok coughed up blood and collapsed again, but that might actually count as a fortuitous event. As long as his spirit wasn’t broken, he could recover from his internal injuries and gain deeper insight from this experience.
Seo-jun also committed the technique shown by the Sword Saint to memory. It would undoubtedly be useful in the future.
Feeling that things were finally settling down, Seo-jun let out a long sigh of relief.
Namgung Su-a cautiously approached him and grabbed his arm.
“…Seo-jun.”
“Yeah?”
Her face was pale, completely drained of color. Seo-jun suddenly took a moment to check his own condition.
Six arms. Horns on his head.
“Oh.”
Seo-jun swiftly detached the horns and the four extra arms, tossing them far away. Thanks to mimicking Blood Arts, the process was surprisingly clean.
However, Namgung Su-a’s expression only grew worse.
“Ah…”
She stumbled and collapsed into Seo-jun’s arms. Panting softly, she whispered faintly,
“I’m glad… you’re safe….”
With those words, she lost consciousness.
“Su-a?”
Alarmed, Seo-jun checked her condition. Thankfully, she seemed fine—just passed out.
“Jeez, what a day…”
Dragging his weary body, Seo-jun carefully laid Chun-bong and Namgung Su-a in the partially broken carriage. Jang Geuk let out a dry laugh.
“No matter how inhuman you may seem, don’t forget people still have hearts, my lord.”
“What kind of nonsense is that, old man?”
Pae Jin-gwang chimed in.
“Nonsense, my ass. Honestly, I’m starting to doubt whether you’re even human anymore.”
“Come on, in a world where you can be a helicopter if you want, does it matter? If I think I’m human, then I’m human.”
“…Heli-what?”
“Oh, right. Not here.”
Seo-jun chuckled weakly and leaned against the wall of the carriage. He wasn’t joking—he genuinely felt like he was about to collapse.
“Ah… How much longer until we reach the Namgung Clan?”
“Don’t worry…”
“Huh?”
Seo-jun quickly looked up. A man who hadn’t been there moments ago had appeared.
“Father-in-law?”
“Looks like you’ve been through quite the ordeal… Well done, son-in-law.”
Namgung Jincheon waved his hand, and the corpses and debris from the carriage began tidying themselves up as if by magic.
“How did you get here?”
“When someone cuts the sun, you come to see what’s going on. The technique resembled the Heavenly Cloud Divine Sword… Was that your doing?”
“No, that was the Sword Saint.”
“Sword Saint? I see…”
Namgung Jincheon accepted this explanation without much reaction, but Seo-jun wasn’t convinced.
“Wait, you saw that from where you were?”
“Of course. Everyone in the Central Plains would have seen it. When the sun is cut and falls, who wouldn’t notice?”
So it hadn’t erased people’s perceptions or anything like that?
“Shit.”
What kind of godly power was that? Seo-jun clicked his tongue.
At that moment, a golden figure suddenly appeared, flying toward them—it was Duk-seong, the abbot of the Shaolin Temple.
“What in the world…?”
Looking confused, the abbot surveyed the area before exchanging brief words with Namgung Jincheon.
The abbot seemed eager to understand the situation, but Namgung Jincheon shook his head.
“We’ll discuss this later….”
With a wave of Namgung Jincheon’s hand, Seo-jun and the carriage floated gently into the air.
This is insane.
Even Seo-jun, who had brushed against the Transformation Stage, found the level of spatial manipulation absurd.
“Rest for now… We’ll reach the clan soon enough….”
As expected of his father-in-law, Seo-jun thought, feeling a sense of relief as he let his heavy eyelids close.
His consciousness quickly drifted into a deep sleep.
The Extremity of Demonic Qi….
Seo-jun pondered absently.
Was absolute time really necessary? Even if it was advice from the Sword Saint, Seo-jun couldn’t fully agree.
He couldn’t even tell how long I’ve been practicing martial arts.
If he could just witness it firsthand, he felt he could grasp the Extremity of Demonic Qi—if not the Transformation Stage—right away.
With these thoughts swirling in his hazy mind, Seo-jun’s consciousness finally slipped away.