Chapter 147
How exciting.
Just how much ‘enjoyment’ would the legendary Ten-Tailed Fox bring him?
Yet, as Aurum faced Park Chan-woo, he couldn’t help but tilt his head.
‘His presence is weaker than expected.’
Normally, one might say his energy was weak, but Park Chan-woo’s presence was faint, like shimmering heat haze.
It felt as though something hidden was being forcibly drawn out.
That wasn’t the only strange thing.
‘His balance is completely off.’
The balance of his body was bizarre.
Aurum had honed himself for hundreds of years—
Crossing and breaking through countless walls until he finally understood:
‘Everything exists within balance.’
A body that loses its equilibrium inevitably collapses.
In the end, it meets its limits.
But that one—the Ten-Tailed Fox—was different.
Aurum’s eyes swept over Park Chan-woo’s entire form.
“Tell me, has your ‘base stats’ been fixed at 1?”
At those words, Park Chan-woo’s eyes widened slightly.
No one had ever been able to read his condition so precisely before.
‘…He doesn’t possess an ability like the [Mind’s Eye] that Han Shin has.’
He didn’t even seem to have any special eyes or observation magic.
There wasn’t that usual feeling of being “pierced through.”
Even the flow of his mana remained calm—
Like the water of a nearby stream.
It was a conclusion reached purely through observation.
Aurum continued speaking.
“Originally, your body shouldn’t even be able to move properly. You’ve layered it with ‘bonus stats’ to force it into shape. That’s why your ‘balance’ is distorted. Hmm, I see.”
For a moment, Park Chan-woo doubted his ears.
Never before had he been so thoroughly analyzed—
Just by being looked at.
…Now he understood.
Why the strongest—Han Shin and the others—had all trembled in fear at the thought of facing Aurum again.
Why they said they’d never fight him twice.
“Impure strength always meets its limits. The gap between your bonus stats and your base stats will only grow wider as your level increases, and you’ll never surpass that wall. I thought you were the Ten-Tailed Fox, but you’re no different from the spirits I command.”
Aurum was certain now.
That thing before him was not the Ten-Tailed Fox.
It was more akin to a spirit.
The spirits he commanded had evolved in similar ways—
Their base stats fixed, but their bonus attributes expanded through endless battles with him.
Yet, they too eventually reached their limits.
Because power without balance is impure.
Park Chan-woo shrugged.
“Done talking?”
“You may have forced yourself to match my level, but that strength isn’t truly yours. My interest fades.”
Aurum clicked his tongue and sighed softly.
A moment ago, he’d been delighted to finally meet someone who could excite him.
But now, the “opponent” before him was disappointing.
His enthusiasm vanished.
He didn’t even feel the urge to reach out and kill him.
In terms of total “stat value,” they might be roughly equal—
But that wasn’t his power.
It wasn’t something he’d achieved on his own.
A counterfeit, forcibly assembled.
He’d wondered how this man could wield divine power and manipulate mana so close to divinity…
Swoosh—!
Aurum lightly waved his hand.
A dense mass of mana took form and surged toward Park Chan-woo.
The next stage beyond [Sword Qi] and [Sword Aura]—
It was [Sword Sphere].
A compressed embodiment of pure mana—
The pinnacle of pure technique that no impure force could ever withstand!
‘Die.’
It wasn’t worth laying a hand on him directly.
He couldn’t block it anyway. Let it take his head clean off.
But then—
Just as the Sword Sphere was about to sever his neck—
Clang!
A heavy impact resounded—
Rumble!
The Sword Sphere was deflected.
It rolled across the ground, toppling a dozen trees in its path.
“…Oh?”
For the first time, interest flickered in Aurum’s eyes.
Park Chan-woo had blocked it—using the Holy Sword.
Not perfectly—his neck had been grazed slightly—
But thanks to [Super Regeneration], the wound healed instantly.
Still, regeneration wasn’t what caught Aurum’s attention.
“You have understanding of the sword.”
To block a Sword Sphere meant he knew the sword.
Ordinary mages—or those wielding borrowed power—could never have blocked it.
A Sword Sphere was pure mana compressed to its limit, fixed in form, and fired.
It spun violently, generating immense destructive power.
But Park Chan-woo had severed that rotation with his sword.
He had struck precisely at the gap in its flow, deflecting it.
That wasn’t just reflexes.
‘He knows the sword.’
A flicker of excitement returned to Aurum’s gaze.
Just from a single swing of the Holy Sword, he could tell—
This man truly knew the sword.
He had crossed the line between life and death, forged through extreme training.
No calluses marked his hands—
And that made it even more fascinating.
Swoosh—
Aurum raised his stance, gripping his Spirit Sword.
Thud!
He stomped his foot—
And vanished in a burst of dust.
In the next instant—he was right before Park Chan-woo.
Clang!
…Blocked again.
This time, he had aimed straight for the throat.
‘How long can you keep blocking?’
He grew curious.
Would he strike ten blows first—
Or would the man’s head be severed first?
Of course, it would likely be the latter.
‘…Interesting.’
This one was more entertaining than expected.
—
Sword clashed against sword.
By the width of a sheet of paper, Park Chan-woo barely blocked Aurum’s strikes.
He now stood on the boundary between life and death.
The sharpness closing in on his throat—
The precision of each technique—
They were on a level far beyond any opponent he had ever faced.
The warriors of Valhalla?
The Conqueror Kankun?
‘Aurum is several tiers above them.’
Their levels might have been higher, but their understanding and mastery of the sword couldn’t compare to his.
Every movement—walking, running, swinging—
Flowed as naturally as water.
His swordplay seemed erratic, unstructured—
Yet when viewed as a whole, every motion formed a seamless line.
‘A wall.’
…He could feel it.
That same wall he had failed to cross in the past.
The brilliance once shown by Sword King Lee Hyuk-soo, Tyrant Lim Chang-yeol, and Han Shin—
Aurum had it too.
No—Aurum’s sword didn’t stem from talent.
He had surpassed talent.
“Your sword… feels lacking.”
After around a hundred exchanges,
Aurum stepped back, frowning slightly.
It was fun—yet somehow unsatisfying.
“Did you give up?”
“…What do you mean?”
“I’m asking if you gave up when you reached the brink of the wall.”
“……”
Park Chan-woo said nothing.
Because it was true.
He lacked talent. He didn’t have the capacity to catch up to the ‘true ones.’
His gift lay in magic.
He alone could read the vibrations of mana.
Anyone could see his greatest talent wasn’t the sword—but magic.
“Was it time? Or did you think you lacked talent?”
“……”
“Both? Foolish man.”
Tsk, tsk.
Aurum clicked his tongue openly, fully understanding why he had felt that sense of disappointment.
“The time it takes to surpass a wall can be shortened. And you possess the most perfect ‘talent for the sword.’ Didn’t you know?”
“…I have talent for the sword?”
“What do you think sword talent is? Precise strikes? A sense of balance? The ability to infuse mana into your blade? Wrong.”
“……”
“It’s focus, composure, and patience. You possess all three.”
Park Chan-woo tilted his head slightly at that.
Weren’t those basic qualities?
But Aurum was serious.
The more they crossed swords, the more he was astonished by Park Chan-woo’s transcendental focus—
His ability to respond calmly, and his patience to endure until the perfect moment.
They were all extraordinary.
The level far surpassed that of ordinary swordsmen.
In the fleeting exchanges of blades, how many could think and move as he did?
Most fought purely on instinct.
That was why it was regrettable.
He could have crossed the wall—but gave up before reaching it.
Aurum spoke.
“The problem is that you possess those three qualities too perfectly. That’s why you couldn’t cross the wall. You think too much when you swing your sword.”
I think too much?
And that’s why I couldn’t cross?
He couldn’t understand.
Seeing his confusion, Aurum smiled.
“Then I’ll go faster—until you can’t think at all.”
—
Fast.
Aurum’s sword grew faster and faster.
‘It’s… complex.’
If it had only been fast, it wouldn’t have been a problem.
But it was fast and intricate.
The path of his sword was like a spider’s web.
Unlike before, where every motion connected into one complete form—
Now, there was no pattern at all.
It was truly chaotic.
He tried to discern a rhythm or a conclusion,
but it was impossible.
Aurum swung his sword in a state of pure no-mind, no-thought.
…What kind of swordsmanship was this?
Could this even be called swordsmanship?
Sword King Lee Hyuk-soo, Tyrant Lim Chang-yeol, Han Shin—
All of them wielded the sword toward one clear conclusion: the opponent’s death.
There had been form. There had been order.
But here—there was none.
‘He’s just swinging.’
This kind of swordplay was new to him.
Even a beginner wouldn’t swing a sword so wildly.
Even a drunk’s “Drunken Sword” had intent behind it.
But Aurum’s sword paths scattered in all directions.
He couldn’t block them by thinking normally.
He had to let go of everything—
To react purely by instinct.
Could he do it?
‘…I’ve never done it before.’
To leave nothing behind—
To let everything flow freely.
But he had never emptied his mind before.
Especially when wielding a sword.
He had always fought through awareness and strategy.
That was why people once said he had sword talent.
…He’d never realized that thinking too much could be the reason he couldn’t surpass the wall.
And it was the first time anyone had told him so.
‘If this keeps up, I’ll die.’
Of course, Aurum wasn’t giving mere advice.
If he lost focus for even a moment, he would die.
Aurum’s killing intent was real.
There was no mercy in his strikes.
Now he understood why even Han Shin and the other strongest loathed fighting him.
Aurum pointed out his opponent’s flaws—then crushed them before they could even comprehend them.
…How miserable it was.
To realize one’s shortcomings only to die moments later.
Park Chan-woo endured barely, his countless wounds healing repeatedly through [Super Regeneration].
If not for that, he would have died long before exchanging a hundred blows.
Could he really empty himself in this state?
‘Empty yourself.’
……He tried.
Once, just once—he would try it.
Even if it cost his life, he would do it.
Yet countless thoughts tangled and blocked him.
Park Chan-woo closed his eyes.
Then, even more thoughts flooded in like the tide.
He erased them—again and again.
Until he resolved to become a blank slate.
To rely solely on the sword—
To become the sword itself.
There was no longer Park Chan-woo.
‘I am the sword.’
He was the sword.
Park Chan-woo erased himself.
He erased all thought.
At last, he became the sword.
He saw nothing, heard nothing, and thought nothing.
Before he knew it, he had lost track of time.
He sank deeper and deeper into that state.
Who knows how long had passed—
Ding!
《You have attained Enlightenment.》
《‘Understanding of the Sword’ completed.》
《Awareness as a Swordsman has become pronounced.》
《Attack power based on physical stats increases by 10%.》
《You have acquired the teachings of ‘Arahan.’》
《‘Basic Swordsmanship of Arahan’ has been created!》