Kwak Yeon felt a faint unease at the thought that the Heavenly Saber of Pojun had once ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) claid to be born under the killing star, Pojunxing, the Star of Slaughter.
If this art was left behind by him, would it not be steeped in murderous qi?
At that mont, Kwak Yeon rembered that he was already training in three demonic arts.
But Patriarch Jang Sambong taught that martial arts depend on the one who wields them. Whether the martial skill of a Demonic Hero or the art of a world-destroying star-killer—if I wield it uprightly, what does it matter?
He set the manual upon a nearby rock and began to bow.
Heavenly Saber of Pojun, this junior, a humble Daoist, dares to learn the martial art you have left behind.
To Kwak Yeon, it seed only natural to offer courtesy first—whether the man had been a Demonic Hero or a Great Star of Slaughter—since he was still the later generation to whom fate had given the connection.
It was also a way to steady his own heart before beginning the study.
No matter what, I shall never stain the na of the Heavenly Saber of Pojun. Moreover, I swear to use this martial art only for righteous deeds.
After completing three bows, Kwak Yeon steadied his breath and opened the first page of the manual.
“I leave behind the insights gained through a thousand battles. Pojun Saber Gu Jeolhwi.”
That single line was all that was written on the first page.
Yet Kwak Yeon was shaken to his core.
It was a short line, but the aning within was imnse.
A thousand battles...?
The implication was plain.
In the martial world, to survive a thousand duels ant that one had erged victorious from them all.
And if these were the distilled insights of a thousand battles, then this sword art was truly honed for real combat.
Even so, Kwak Yeon was puzzled.
Ordinarily, the preface of a martial manual contained certain elents: the master’s na, how he attained his insights, a summary of the art, and cautions or attitudes necessary to cultivate it. So even left words of exhortation for later disciples.
But here, only that single, concise line.
So Martial Hero Gu Jeolhwi, the Heavenly Saber of Pojun, must have been a man of exceedingly simple nature, writing no needless words.
Kwak Yeon felt sowhat guilty, as though he were simply taking without giving back.
In any case, to master this sword art properly is the only way I can repay him.
He tossed a few more sticks into the fire and turned the page.
First Sword Form: Falling Star Ten Thousand Changes.
Beneath the na were dense lines of sword formulas, no fewer than twenty-eight.
Twenty-eight separate sword maneuvers within a single form...?
A zhao was a single move, and a sequence of them made up a shi—a form.
So the zhao were the divided motions, passed down in formulas, and these together beca a zhaoshi.
Normally, a form contained no more than four or five such motions. Here, there were twenty-eight.
This was hardly a re form—it was like an independent sword thod in itself.
There must be a reason the Heavenly Saber of Pojun created twenty-eight maneuvers into a single form.
Only after reading through the formulas in order did Kwak Yeon understand.
The “Ten Thousand Changes” ant exactly that—an endlessly shifting defensive form.
The problem was that to link them all into one continuous sequence would take a long ti.
Could it truly be that twenty-eight maneuvers could be unleashed in a single form, all at once?
― Shrrrip!
Hurriedly, Kwak Yeon turned the page to the section of guiding principles.
These principles described, in taphors, the way to circulate one’s inner energy while executing each maneuver.
The formulas were the movents; the guiding principles were how to operate the inner qi with them.
Every martial art had its own distinctive use of inner qi.
Only by following the prescribed thod could one manifest the true art and unleash its full power.
Without the guiding principles, one might mimic the outer motions but achieve nothing.
Well-versed in inner energy and ridian study, Kwak Yeon had little trouble parsing the First Sword Form’s guiding principles.
And as he read, his eyes widened further.
The thods of circulating inner qi were perfectly apt at every step.
“Ah!”
Reaching the final passage, Kwak Yeon exclaid in awe.
He realized that by operating inner energy exactly as directed, he could indeed unleash all twenty-eight maneuvers in an instant.
Ah! So that is why he forged twenty-eight moves into a single form!
If he could master the First Sword Form, Falling Star Ten Thousand Changes, then no attack in the world could break through his guard.
What could resist a storm of twenty-eight maneuvers exploding out at once?
This was, in truth, a nearly flawless defensive form.
Kwak Yeon felt a thirst quenched at last.
The long-standing gap in his higher-level martial arts was suddenly filled to overflowing by the Falling Star Nine Swords.
From the First Form alone, he realized that this art could never have been created without the experience of a thousand duels.
So that was why the Heavenly Saber of Pojun had dared to look down upon the world.
And Kwak Yeon felt all the more guilty for reaping such fortune without toil.
If the Heavenly Saber of Pojun has descendants, I must one day repay this grace.
His heart began to beat faster.
If the first form was so earth-shaking, what would the remaining eight be?
He fed the fire until it blazed and turned the page.
Second Sword Form: Falling Star Returning Flow.
Here the formulas were drastically fewer—only eighteen.
And Kwak Yeon quickly understood why.
Unlike the purely defensive first form, the second was not limited to defense alone.
To attack required concision.
Reading the guiding principles, Kwak Yeon realized that the Second Sword Form embodied the essence of “Return”—to redirect the opponent’s strike back upon them.
A defensive form that transford seamlessly into counterattack.
Defend thoroughly with the Ten Thousand Changes, break your foe’s montum, then turn their strike aside with the Returning Flow—naturally, this is why it is the second form.
But Kwak Yeon also saw that though the maneuvers were fewer, the Second Form demanded more inner power than the First.
The Ten Thousand Changes could be perford even with one full cycle of qi—one jiazi. But the Returning Flow required at least twice that.
Truly, the Falling Star Nine Swords was a peerless art of the highest order.
Suddenly, Kwak Yeon understood why the White-Haired Demon Queen had called it an art of blazing yang.
Each successive form demanded more and more power—an art of overwhelming strength.
If even the Second Form required two full cycles of qi, then how much would be needed for the final, the Ninth Form?
Of course, after reaching the Gang realm, one used not only inner qi but external spirit energy as well, so it could not be asured simply.
For now, he set that worry aside.
First, I should at least look through all nine forms tonight.
Third Sword Form: Falling Star in Scattering Powder.
The formulas were reduced to sixteen. Yet its transformations were no less than the Ten Thousand Changes.
This was the art of scattering—scattering sword aura like dust.
Though it demanded less than the Second Form, it still required no less than three full cycles of inner qi.
With only my pure inner qi, I could reach no further than the Third Form.
Still, with the external spirit energy he had gained from recent insights, the limits were not yet known.
He envisioned himself unleashing the Third Form.
His enemy would see a sky filled with falling stars, myriad teors raining down.
From this Third Form on, the art turned to true offense.
Yet its scattering essence could still be used to disrupt an opponent’s attack in advance.
Fourth Sword Form: Falling Star Eight Desolations.
This form had only eight formulas.
Its marvel was that when executed swiftly, it struck in all eight directions at once.
To slash widely or, with body technique added, to cut down eight foes in a single sweep was one thing. But to thrust eight tis near-simultaneously in eight directions was sothing altogether different.
Though in truth it was simply too fast, to the eye it was as if eight real swords existed at once.
Kwak Yeon felt that this was his present limit. Yet he could not stop.
He had to see what lay at the end of the Nine Swords.
Fifth Sword Form: Falling Star Splitting Thunder.
Only four formulas.
But like lightning splitting the sky, sudden, unpredictable, overwhelming strikes.
Fast sword energy splitting unpredictably—how could it be blocked?
Even with his deep studies of inner energy, Kwak Yeon could not at once fully comprehend it.
With ti, I could unravel it. Mastery, however, is another matter.
Turning the page, he resolved to simply read the rest.
Sixth Sword Form: Falling Star Severing Moon.
As the na implied, a sword swift enough to split the moon into four in an instant.
Only two formulas—but so fast the eye could not follow.
Seventh Sword Form: Falling Star Piercing Sun.
A single formula, whose very na was the form.
To pierce the sun.
A thrust that pierced the heart with a single sword.
Pouring all one’s power into a single thrust—Kwak Yeon knew it would shatter even iron walls, pierce through stone itself.
Eighth Sword Form: Falling Star Extinguishing Earth.
Outwardly, an ordinary formula of crushing force, like Mount Tai pressing down.
But its guiding principles stretched across five whole pages.
It was the art of weight, collapsing all around like a falling star, shattering the surroundings with inner-force sword energy.
Imagining it, Kwak Yeon shivered.
Could such a thing truly be wrought by human hands?
He wondered if Gu Jeolhwi, the Heavenly Saber of Pojun, had not in truth attained the realm of the divine.
Now, Kwak Yeon’s body tensed.
It was ti to see the Ninth Form.
The essence of the Falling Star Nine Swords—the ultimate sword.
Gulp.
He was almost afraid to turn the page.
― Shrrrip!
At last, with trembling hands, he turned to the final page of the manual.
And then his breath stopped.
The page was blank...?
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