The Outer God Needs Warmth

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Cheonma then thud dropped the sword from his hands.

Above, the immortals were murmuring, but I knew this wasn’t a sign of giving up.

Boom.

When Cheonma stomped his foot on the ground, a fierce earthquake erupted.

Rumble.

The Cheonma Church Main Hall shook, and the flames engulfing the building boomed uncontrollably higher.

And then, at Cheonma’s eye level, the sword he had just dropped began to float. It trembled alongside the world.

Thud.

Suddenly, all vibrations ceased.

But everyone here knew that didn’t mean it was over.

The vibrations of the sword suspended in mid-air didn’t stop, after all.

And Cheonma stepped onto the sky, ascending like walking up an invisible staircase. His sword violently trembled, following him closely.

During that time, no one attacked Cheonma.

He rose higher than the tallest roof and stopped.

As soon as Cheonma halted, the immortals who had been hovering or standing on the roof sent their attacks flying, as if they had been waiting for that moment.

There were flashes of lightning, gusts of wind, bursts of fire, and splashes of water.

But not one of them touched Cheonma.

When Cheonma glanced at his sword, it ceased to shake and slowly began to move. However, it moved so slowly that it seemed unlikely to block all the incoming attacks.

At least, that’s how it looked to me.

A quick and concise swing.

Each time he cleaved the air, small incoming attacks either disappeared or ricocheted back toward the immortals.

One swing nullified two or more attacks.

No matter how many attacks came at him, if he dealt with them in order, it was merely a task. Moreover, elements like water and wind that shouldn’t be measurable vanished as the sword moved.

Amidst the smoke from the burning Cheonma Church, he stood alone against the immortals under a sky filled with dark clouds.

As if offering his life, he approached the non-fleeing immortals, swinging his sword, and one by one, they lost their lives.

Eventually, even the last immortal charging at her lost their life and vanished, bestowing warmth to me before disappearing.

I won.

Half of the Twelve Great Immortals under the Primordial Heavenly Sovereign of the Heavenly Church.

Additionally, the other immortals who prided themselves on their ability to fight had perished. But it was too early to relax. I had seen something extremely dangerous in their memories.

But I realized it too late.

Suddenly, the space was cut sharply as if it were shaped like a square.

In the midst of this, Cheonma swung his sword, surveying his surroundings, but even as the sword moved, the three-dimensional space had flattened.

Yet, Cheonma’s sword tore through the gap that turned into a plane.

To Cheonma’s perspective, the space around him remained intact, but beyond the cut surface, an ominous black darkness unfolded.

The Taegukdo.

A powerful weapon in the form of a scroll that captures enemies and makes the targets inside vanish when rolled up.

But there was no way to exit. The sword was the only thing that tore through the visible space outside, while Cheonma’s body seemed unable to break through an invisible wall.

Cheonma gazed at a person unfurling a human-sized scroll in the distance.

They probably had no information but managed to pinpoint the culprit behind his situation right away.

In the next moment, the sword flew rapidly and pierced the head of the person holding the scroll.

I thought I had won.

But Cheonma’s gaze instantly shifted to darkness.

In his last moments, Cheonma saw a boy next to the decapitated man, gripping the scroll depicting Cheonma, folding it.

Knowing the location of the Taegukdo, I accidentally dashed toward that direction.

Meanwhile, Cheonma swung his hand into thin air several times.

The first few strikes hit empty space, but then he struck a solid wall. And that wall gradually crept closer to Cheonma.

He soon stopped swinging his hands and exhaled deeply.

Then, after inhaling again, he released a slight exhale and halted.

He spun both hands around, with the right hand above and the left below, gathering them in the center. Then, reversing the order, a vividly glowing violet blade appeared.

Yes.

It was light.

Cheonma saw his light with his eyes.

That it could manifest outside a person?

Wasn’t the light a soul?

There was no answer to my question.

Cheonma pressed his palms together, as if in prayer.

Whether it was a volume or pressure, the palms didn’t touch. But Cheonma’s hands glowed a bright white.

And with each moment the light brightened, the light in front of him gradually thinned.

I was watching, sensing something incredible happening, but something felt off.

The sensation began to vanish from Cheonma’s fingertips. Looking at his fingers through his unfocused gaze, I saw them transform into bright white light, crumbling away like dry clay.

The pieces sparkled in the air and vanished.

As his hands disappeared, his elbows soon followed.

The violet light became a single slender line.

No, before doing anything, I needed to get Cheonma out of there.

If the Taegukdo folded completely, the space where Cheonma stood would vanish.

If I could find it and seize it before Cheonma was too damaged, I could extricate him again. I knew how to use it. I had read the memory when Cheonma first owned it and killed its previous holder.

I ran with all my might.

Before long, I spotted the boy clutching the folded scroll resembling a Taegukdo, desperately pressing it down beside the headless corpse.

Just as I was about to approach and seize the scroll.

Suddenly, Cheonma opened his eyes wide, and the slender line moved like a blade. Despite having no hands, it seemed like an invisible hand reached forward.

“Heh heh, I never imagined Soo-oh would rise higher than me. So it’s not just martial arts, but heart techniques… Right. It must be. Putting soul into the sword is sufficient. But I have someone who gave me their heart, so heart techniques won’t work for me.”

In the darkness, grasping the thread of light, Cheonma muttered to himself.

“In place of that, I will leave behind the Cheonma Martial Art.”

No.

That wasn’t a monologue.

It was a message to someone.

Cheonma, speaking to someone in a place where no one could hear, grasped that thread and swung downwards.

One Stroke Cheonma Martial Art

The sky split open.

A sharp wound marked the world, slicing through the air.

In the blink of an eye.

In that fleeting moment, along with the powerful artifact known as Taegukdo, the boy holding it vanished, leaving behind a darkness that appeared when I exerted too much force.

But unlike me, whose surroundings were messy like shattered bulletproof glass, there was only a clearly marked cut.

Splash.

I heard something drop from afar.

Cheonma’s senses.

The feeling of the body colliding somewhere.

In an instant, I looked up towards the place where Cheonma had vanished. On the rooftop. Something that looked like Cheonma was rolling off the edge.

I dashed quickly, but Cheonma was falling faster.

He bounced several times off the roof before crashing down.

And shortly after, I arrived at the place where Cheonma had fallen.

There lay a woman with violet skin, mostly crushed and dying, resembling a corpse that had fallen from a building’s rooftop.

Blood spread around her like a halo.

And slowly, raindrops began to fall from the sky.

It’s said that rain falls where there was a massive fire. Dust rising high in the sky condenses into droplets that fall below.

So.

I arrived in front of Cheonma, who had no chance of survival, on the brink of death.

“Cheonma.”

Upon calling her name, she coughed cough cough.

I knelt down, getting closer, and lifted her head.

“Did you see?”

“Yes.”

I saw it well. It was etched in my memory. Short but intense enough to allow me to send the Cheonma Martial Art to someone immediately in the future.

“I must have been destined to fall. It’s just like when I was born again.”

If you look at it that way, maybe it’s true.

The day Cheonma became a woman, she was dying in this way after falling from a height. Cheonma opened her eyes on my knees and looked up at me, her face a jumbled mess.

With her body in ruins, it was hard to gauge what emotion she was expressing—whether it was crying or smiling.

Cheonma gathered strength in her chest and opened her mouth.

“My friend. Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, Cheonma. It’s just rain.”

Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the mood to be generous enough to cry. Sadness or anger was immediately buried under the impulse to do something about the cold.

“My friend, you’re too clumsy for a monster. If you’re going to hide it, at least do it better.”

But after saying something weird about me crying, Cheonma closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

“As a man, I saw the extreme of the void, and as a woman, I felt the bond of love. I’ve done all the marvels one can do as a person, so it’s time to depart from this place now. So, my friend, you live as you wished, a wish you had once spoken of. This is the last order that Immo leaves you.”

After her last breath, the straight line beside her slowly faded away. It was a mere warmth she imparted before unraveling into thin strands, soon turning to dust and vanishing.

Whoosh!

The rain became a downpour, drenching the Cheonma Church.

Until the corpse lying before me turned completely white.

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