Avatar of the Absolute Martial God

The first sword technique Jang-il learned from his first master, Oh Mun, was the Sixteen Battle Sword (十六戰劍).

This technique was unique in that, while it always started the same, the outcome differed for each wielder.

As its name suggests, it was a sword technique specialized for actual combat.

To achieve the most efficient killing technique, it could only evolve through real battles, which meant that the form itself had to be discarded.

It was a natural result of prioritizing practicality over rigid form.

Because of this characteristic, the Heavenly Sword Sect also referred to the Sixteen Battle Sword as the Ten Swords for Ten People (十人十色), implying that it adapted uniquely to each individual.

At one point, Jang-il had inadvertently revealed his Sixteen Battle Sword to Mun Kang, and his reaction had been quite peculiar.

“Cough, cough… How amusing. A sword that only flourishes in real combat, huh?”

He acted as if he had never heard of it before.

In that moment, Jang-il couldn’t help but worry—had he mistakenly joined a sect with the same name but a different lineage? But that thought soon proved unnecessary.

“Whoever created that sword must have walked a path similar to mine. However… it seems they failed to reach true mastery. A pity.”

Jang-il had been too confused at the time to respond.

Without another word, Mun Kang raised the wooden sword he was holding.

The wooden sword had been crafted specifically for him, considering his frail condition due to prolonged illness. To reduce its weight, its design had been made as simple as possible.

Yet, in Mun Kang’s hands, even such an unimpressive sword underwent a transformation.

— Saaahhh…

Like mist spreading through the air, an overwhelming force emanated from the sword, devouring its surroundings.

— Gulp.

Jang-il had witnessed this scene multiple times before, yet each time, he found himself speechless with awe.

And for good reason—Mun Kang wasn’t even using inner energy.

When Jang-il once asked how such a thing was possible, Mun Kang had answered as if it were nothing special:

“Once you understand that the sword is no different from yourself, such phenomena will naturally occur. But in the end, if you lack the strength to wield it, it’s nothing more than an empty display. Don’t let yourself be fooled by mere appearances.”

Spoken like a true master of combat, one who had shattered a thousand swords.

However, had a Daoist practitioner witnessed this, they would have been even more astonished than Jang-il.

This was because Mun Kang’s sword had reached the supreme realm of Oneness of Sword and Self (物我一體).

The Oneness of Sword and Self referred to the fusion of the material and spiritual realms. Among swordsmen, it was often called the Heart Sword (心劍).

Had it not been for his illness, Mun Kang could have ruled the world with his sword alone.

Jang-il, whose consciousness had expanded through death, instinctively recognized this fact.

Leaving the awestruck Jang-il behind, Mun Kang then demonstrated the Sixteen Battle Sword three times.

Surprisingly, each time, it was different from the technique Jang-il had performed.

At first, one might think this was natural—the Sixteen Battle Sword, after all, was known for discarding rigid forms in favor of practical adaptability.

But in reality, something far more profound was happening.

The form itself was changing.

During the first demonstration, the technique still bore some resemblance to the original. But by the second time, the number of movements had doubled.

And in the final demonstration, it had returned to sixteen movements—yet the form had transformed.

Concepts such as transformation (變), force (剛), and fluidity (柔) had deepened exponentially.

Simply put, what had once been a first-rate sword technique had, in that moment, evolved into a supreme sword art.

Had he not witnessed the transformation firsthand, no one—himself included—would have recognized that this sword technique had originated from the Sixteen Battle Sword.

“Ah!”

Jang-il let out an involuntary gasp as he watched the technique shift before his very eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing. Mun Kang, his eyes filled with fatigue, spoke in a weary yet intrigued tone.

“Fascinating. To think my essence would blend into this technique so effortlessly. Anyone unfamiliar with its origins might mistake it for a sword art modeled after me.”

“!!”

Mun Kang’s words were spoken in passing, merely out of curiosity, but Jang-il’s expression wavered significantly.

For in that moment, he realized why Mun Kang had been unfamiliar with the Sixteen Battle Sword in the first place.

‘So, this technique was created by Senior Brother Mun-chu…’

His speculation was correct.

Unlike his father, Mun Kang, who was a formidable warrior, Mun Chu did not share the same combative nature. If he had followed the Daoist path, he could have flourished greatly. However, the practicality and lethality of battle-focused swordsmanship did not suit him.

After Mun Kang’s passing, Mun Chu spent his life honoring his father’s legacy. He created a sword technique that embodied his father’s teachings, and that very technique was the Sixteen Battle Sword.

This was why Mun Kang had originally said the technique had failed to attain its essence.

And now, in Mun Kang’s hands, the Sixteen Battle Sword had truly begun to bloom.

Jang-il regretted that he was the only one to witness such a profound revelation.

After taking a moment to appreciate the sword technique his son had created and he himself had now elevated, Mun Kang spoke in a satisfied tone.

“Is the heavens truly aiding us? This Sixteen Battle Sword will serve as an excellent guide for you.”

With that, he decided to shift his teaching approach.

His sword was a real sword—his most effective method of teaching had always been through live combat. However, his deteriorating health posed a major problem.

No matter how much his fighting spirit revitalized him, it could not serve as a cure-all. If he overexerted himself even slightly, he would need days of recuperation, making the idea of efficiency meaningless.

But with the Sixteen Battle Sword, even if its effectiveness as a training method was slightly lower, it could still serve as a glimpse into the essence of real combat.

Now, his role was to guide Jang-il from the sidelines, ensuring that he could perceive the sword’s deeper meaning more clearly. If necessary, he would supplement any shortcomings through sparring.

“If you master this technique, only then will you be able to truly embed killing intent into your sword. And when that happens, you will finally be able to create your own sword style.”

To the current Jang-il, this goal felt impossibly distant, making the words difficult to grasp.

But in the end, he followed Mun Kang’s newly adjusted teachings—just fifteen days later.

This all happened because Mun Kang, driven by ambition, sought to imbue more of his sword’s essence into the technique.

And the result was a sword art known as Plum Blossom Twenty-Four Stances.

There was a reason why “Plum Blossom” was incorporated into the name of the technique so suddenly.

Mun Kang had always been fond of the plum blossom, which braved the cold of early spring to bloom before all other flowers. Because of this, five plum trees stood within the sect grounds.

At that time, winter had just passed, and as the plum blossoms began to bloom, Mun Kang had a sudden realization as he watched the vibrant resurgence of life.

“So this is the essence of the Living Sword… To think that at the end of the Killing Sword lies the Living Sword—what a strange and profound truth.”

Thus, an even greater sword art was born—though the problem was that it had also become much more difficult to master.

However, Mun Kang believed that if anyone could handle it, it would be Jang-il, whose talent he deemed to be among the highest.

“The Plum Blossom Twenty-Four Stances follows the principle of No-Form Triumphs Over Form.”

No-Form Triumphs Over Form—a paradoxical concept in which a formless technique surpasses structured sword stances.

Because of this defiance of conventional logic, the training method for the Plum Blossom Twenty-Four Stances was equally unusual.

“That’s why the core of this technique is erasing sword stances. If you manage to reduce the Plum Blossom Twenty-Four Stances to twelve, you will have reached Small Accomplishment.”

Small Accomplishment—meaning he would have attained the level of Seven Stars.

If the stances were further reduced to nine, it would signify Eight Stars; if reduced to three, he would reach Nine Stars. And in the end, when only one stance remained, the Plum Blossom Twenty-Four Stances would be complete.

Mun Kang remarked that at each stage, the technique could be considered a separate sword art in itself—Plum Blossom Twelve Swords, Plum Blossom Nine Swords, and Plum Blossom Three Swords.

“If you… go beyond even that final stance, you will grasp the Living Sword that I discovered in my twilight years.”

But even though he held Jang-il in the highest regard, Mun Kang believed that reaching the Living Sword would be nearly impossible for him.

He himself had only attained it after forcibly letting go of everything—unless the heavens willed it, Jang-il could never reach that state.

And so, Jang-il’s rigorous training under Mun Kang officially began.

The training was so severe that even those watching felt their breath catch in their throats.

From the moment he awoke to the moment he fell asleep, Jang-il never let go of his sword. Without Mun Chu and his disciples assisting him, he would never have endured it.

It was grueling, almost like torture, but Jang-il endured it in silence.

With Mun Kang’s condition as fragile as it was, any delay—even the smallest moment of hesitation—felt like a luxury he could not afford.

Time passed.

Spring gave way to summer.

And as autumn approached—the season in which he had once fallen into this world—

Jang-il awoke from a dream.

“Huff… Huff…”

As he gasped for breath, he struggled to suppress the lingering confusion washing over him.

Had this been before his rebirth, he might not have been able to recover for a long time.

However, for the current Jang-il, overcoming this confusion did not take much effort.

His ragged breathing soon calmed, and within moments, he was able to grasp what had happened to him.

“The power I received isn’t just about resurrecting after death. It seems that my death somehow split me into two, and one part of me was sent into the past.”

Beyond that, he also realized something else—the dream he had experienced the night before had been an entire year lived by his other self.

‘I’m not entirely sure yet, but it seems like this will keep happening until that other me dies.’

Even as he reasoned through it, he couldn’t help but wonder about the true nature of his ability.

What kind of power could possibly cause such an impossible phenomenon?

But since the system’s notification had only appeared after his death, there was no way for him to know. Before long, he gave up trying to figure it out.

Whatever the case, this ability was clearly a great advantage for him.

Tap.

Once Jang-il had settled his thoughts, he immediately grabbed his sword and rose to his feet.

There was still plenty of time before the morning rations were distributed, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity for training.

Instead of practicing the Sixteen War Swords he had been using until now, Jang-il shifted to the Twenty-Four Stances Sword Art.

Swish… Swoosh!

As he performed the technique for the first time since awakening from his dream, he was surprised by how naturally it flowed.

Of course, since he hadn’t wielded his sword with the same desperate intensity as the Jang-il in his dream, the momentum of his strikes was noticeably weaker.

However, the essence contained within the sword was the same, leading to a significant advancement in his martial prowess.

A man who had barely been considered third-rate had suddenly risen to the level of second-rate overnight.

At this rate, if he trained as relentlessly as the Jang-il from his dream, he would soon become a fully recognized second-rate martial artist.

Perhaps that was why—

Without realizing it, Jang-il became absorbed in his training, completely losing track of time. By the time he regained awareness, the sun was already beginning to set.

As he left the barracks to receive his rations, Jang-pae approached him with an exasperated expression.

“Seriously. Being young must be nice. I struggle just to get out of bed in the morning.”

“…Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I’m heading there now. Ugh, if the food tastes bad again today, I swear I’m going to complain. I mean, come on, at the very least, they could season it properly. Don’t you think?”

“You’re right.”

Jang-il responded, but in truth, he didn’t care about the taste of the food.

Having lived a life of scarcity, all that mattered to him was whether or not his stomach was full.

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