Chronicles of the Lazy Sovereign Novel - Chapter 465

**Chapter 465: The lazy Fight (5)**

—*This is problematic…*

Cheok Soogwang felt the situation was turning unfavorable.

Before even arriving here, his attention had been completely focused on Wei Yanho. Who wouldn’t be curious about a young master who defeated the *Dark King* and fought on par with a Bishop of the *Demon Cult*?

But Cheok Soogwang’s interest in Wei Yanho was different from others.

The current leaders of the martial world were focused on Wei Yanho because he possessed enough power to alter the balance of the *jianghu/martial world*.

However, Cheok Soogwang didn’t care about the intrigues of the martial world. His interest lay solely in one thing: Wei Yanho’s martial skill.

It was hard to believe.

In the end, martial power is built over time. And to accumulate that power, one needs precisely that: *time*. But Wei Yanho lacked that time.

So, how had he managed to reach such a level?

Cheok Soogwang wanted to solve that mystery. And the best way to understand an opponent, in his opinion, was to cross swords with him.

That was why he had come.

But even until a moment ago, even when he raised his sword in front of Wei Yanho, Cheok Soogwang hadn’t considered for a second the possibility of losing.

Was he underestimating Wei Yanho?

No.

Cheok Soogwang had never learned to underestimate anyone. The world he lived in wasn’t one where the strongest always won. He had won impossible battles because dirt jumped into his enemy’s eyes at the crucial moment, or because he took advantage of a rival’s carelessness.

Martial power was just one factor in a battle, not an absolute measure.

Wei Yanho was strong, no doubt. By defeating the *Dark King*, Tang Cheongun, he had already proven his worth. Someone like him wasn’t the type to lose through carelessness. If he fell to Wei Yanho, it was because the latter was stronger.

Even so, Cheok Soogwang was sure of his victory.

The reason was simple:

Wei Yanho was young.

Cheok Soogwang had survived countless battlefields. And in most of them, his opponents were stronger than him. People admired how he went from being a third-rate warrior to an accomplished master, but no one paid attention to who his rivals were.

His teacher was the *Demon Cult*.

When he was just a vagabond, he perfected his martial arts fighting against the disciples of the Cult. Did they understand what it meant for a simple wanderer to face members of the Cult, whom even renowned masters feared after decades of training?

In each battle, he had stepped on the threshold of death dozens of times. Even if he returned to the past with all his current knowledge, he wasn’t sure he would survive. His existence was a miracle, a chain of impossible coincidences.

In other words, Cheok Soogwang had always fought against stronger opponents and survived. They were more powerful, but he was the one who kept breathing. He wasn’t the strongest in the world, but no one knew better the art of facing superiors.

Even if Wei Yanho was twice as strong, Cheok Soogwang was confident in defeating him.

But…

—*What kind of monster is this?*

Upon crossing swords, the situation changed. Wei Yanho was used to fighting. The pressure of a life-or-death combat, where murder tears the skin and evil crushes the skull, was something he handled naturally.

That was impossible.

In the world, there are areas where talent is everything, and others where only experience counts. Adaptation in combat belongs to the second category. Not even the brightest genius can master it without experience.

And yet, this brat had blocked his attacks like a veteran of a hundred battles.

What if he had been injured in the neck?

If his opponent had been the *Shadow King*, it wouldn’t have been a cut, but a hole. The fact that he had blocked his decisive attack with only that wound was already incredible.

And also…

—*He won’t fall twice with the same thing.*

His serene gaze said it all. Wei Yanho had already largely deciphered his style. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Without the element of surprise, only the overwhelming difference in strength remained.

So, he had to retreat.

Cheok Soogwang didn’t enjoy battles. He only liked the ones he won, the ones he survived. For him, there was no such thing as “a good fight where you lose.”

However, he couldn’t move. He wasn’t choosing to flee to save his life.

He wanted to see.

See what was inside that young body, and what the truth was behind that sword that emanated such a peculiar aura.

Perhaps, by witnessing it, he would find the key to advancing his own martial art, stagnant for a long time.

As he watched Wei Yanho’s sword shine with intensity, he felt that.

And at that moment, Wei Yanho slowly raised his sword.

—*It’s like the sun.*

The sword, accumulating pure energy that radiated light, reminded him of a resplendent sun. For Cheok Soogwang, who had perfected his sword by facing the *Demon Cult*, that was an unreachable place.

And also…

—*I don’t understand it.*

What the hell was that sword?

His own sword was chaotic. He never received formal training. But he was sure he had seen more sword styles than anyone in the world. And not only that: he had experienced them firsthand.

However, Wei Yanho’s sword was, without a doubt, something he had never seen.

Not just because of its brilliance. His eyes weren’t fooled by superficial adornments. What he was looking for was the essence of the sword.

It was changing.

More diverse and brilliant than he could perceive. The truth hidden in the sword transformed dozens, hundreds of times in an instant.

A fast sword, then heavy, then changing.

An illusory sword that became blunt, a blunt sword that became an illusion.

—*What the hell is that?*

Yes.

There was only one word to describe it. Something he had heard countless times but always considered a legend.

The dream of every swordsman.

The *Infinity Sword*.

In that sword there was *everything*.

It wasn’t time to talk. He should now only experience it with his body. But Cheok Soogwang couldn’t contain himself. In the end, he opened his mouth and asked:

—Is that sword… complete?

Wei Yanho, maintaining his stance, replied:

—No.

—Of course. It makes sense.

It *couldn’t* be complete. That sword wasn’t something that could be completed. It was, literally, a dream. As impossible as a human flying through the air without tools. Martial arts masters can jump very high or walk briefly through the air, but that isn’t *flying*. It’s just an imitation. Just like that sword, it could never reach perfection.

But it didn’t matter if it was complete or not.

Cheok Soogwang understood it. He knew how much truth was hidden in that sword, and…

—*How terrifying it was.*

He felt it in his instincts. There was the key to completing his own martial art. So, the result was obvious.

—Show it to me.

Cheok Soogwang raised his sword with determination.

*Middle stance*.

The most basic position, capable of adapting to any situation, whether attack or defense.

—Show me what kind of sword yours is.

Wei Yanho responded with his body, without words.

A monstrous speed.

The dirt floor rose in dust. But before the dust could rise, Wei Yanho had already closed the distance in front of Cheok Soogwang.

Not even the sound of the air cutting was heard. Faster than sound, Wei Yanho’s sword descended towards Cheok Soogwang’s head.

A strike as quick as lightning.

Cheok Soogwang raised his sword to block.

**¡Kwaaaaang!**

In that instant, his body was shot away like a projectile.

—Ugh!

Blood gushed from his mouth like a geyser.

—*What? What just happened?*

He couldn’t catch his breath. How was it possible not to understand what was happening in the middle of the battle?

He wasn’t a spectator. He was one of the combatants. He had received a blow that launched him into the air, with his organs twisting, and he didn’t understand what was happening!

It was the first time it had happened to him.

But he had no time to think.

—¡Gaaah!

Cheok Soogwang kicked the air to regain his balance. Wei Yanho was already waiting for him in the place where he would fall. The moment he turned, Wei Yanho approached like a shadow and attacked.

—*Block it!*

He used his sword to stop the blow. The instant the swords collided!

Cheok Soogwang saw it.

The aura of the sword, which had been as fast as lightning, suddenly changed, enveloping itself in a dominant and relentless energy.

—*Impossible…*

**¡Kwaaaaaaaang!**

His body twisted as he was launched into the sky.

—Cough!

Blood gushed violently from his mouth. His internal energy rebelled, unable to withstand the force of Wei Yanho’s blow. Muscles tore, bones creaked.

—*How is this possible?!*

But the mental shock was greater than the physical pain.

*Transformation.*

The secret of Wei Yanho’s sword was transformation.

From speed to dominance, from dominance to speed.

It changed and reacted in an instant.

—*How can something like this exist?*

Everyone knew that a fast sword was better at attacking, and a dominant sword at blocking.

But, wasn’t the energy inside the human body unique?

A master of the fast sword would be so until death. Because that was what he had trained, because his energy specialized in that. And Wei Yanho could change it *instantly*?

—*Don’t fuck with me, you damn crazy!*

Cheok Soogwang turned in the air and launched himself downwards.

—¡Grrraaaaah!

His eyes burned with rage. Wei Yanho was challenging all his martial knowledge. Although he himself had broken with conventions, what Wei Yanho was showing was so revolutionary that even his own style seemed ordinary in comparison.

He now understood, multiplied by ten, the shock that others must have felt when they saw him.

As Cheok Soogwang fell like lightning, Wei Yanho remained calm. His sword slowly rose, pointing to the sky.

**¡Uuuuuum!**

The sword vibrated for an instant before firing a blinding beam of light upwards.

Like an erupting volcano.

No, like the dawn breaking the darkness, the light enveloped Cheok Soogwang’s body.

His lips, pressed tightly together, burst into blood.

—Not yet! It’s not the end, brat!

With his hair in the wind, Cheok Soogwang drove his sword downwards.