Absolute Warrior V1C2: The Asura's Eight Narakas
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TL: FoodieMonster007 If you see this, you are at the wrong site!
Two men met at the back door of the Mainland Bank's Nanchang Branch.
"Alright, I'll take care of it as always," the branch manager Yang Seohong said, bowing politely.
Crimson Tiger nodded. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, then."
Crimson Tiger wore a different human skin mask this time, one that made him look much older. This mask was used exclusively for his banking transactions, and even Yeon was unaware of its existence.
"Please be assured. Your money is safe with us."
"Very well. I'll see you again next time."
With that, Crimson Tiger turned and left.
When he was out of sight, the assistant branch manager, Im Chung, approached Yang Seohong. Trembling nervously, he held out five fingers. "I heard that he deposited this much today. Is it true?" he asked.
Yang Seohong nodded.
"And he asked you to transfer all that money… to that place again?"
"Yes."
Im Chung gulped. Crimson Tiger was one of the Nanchang Branch's biggest customers, though only Yang Seohong, Im Chung, and the bank's security chief knew of his existence.
Interestingly, the amounts he deposited were never consistent. Sometimes, it was a small fortune, and other times, it was a pittance. Still, he made regular deposits, and the money was always transferred elsewhere. Its destination has changed, but for two years now its destination had always been the North Sea Branch.
"Who on earth is he sending it to?"
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"Why don't you go and ask him yourself?"
"Do you hate me that much? Do you want me to get killed?"
"Yes."
"What?"
Yang Seohong snorted. "Yesterday, you gave flowers to my younger sister, didn't you?"
"Urk!"
"You lecherous bastard… Do you want to die?" Yang Seohong curled his fingers and playfully mimicked an attempt to gouge out Im Chung's eyes. The seriousness he had shown towards Crimson Tiger had completely evaporated.
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Im Chung dodged backwards, protesting indignantly, "Just because I'm past the prime marriage age doesn't mean I'm too old for romance!"
"Even if you were an innocent newborn, it's a no! Absolutely not!"
"Why not? Are you looking down on me because I'm old? Hmph! Fine! I'll run over to that man right now and ask him: 'Who are you? An assassin? A thief? Where did you get all that money?' Well? Should I really do that? Should I risk my precious life, this life full of regrets from never having held a woman's hand, with only calluses on my fingers from a lifetime of accounting?"
"Hey, he just turned the corner. What are you waiting for?"
"Are you serious?"
"Hyung-nim! Your sister's fabric shop is in a prime location, isn't it? Hehehe."
"What are you talking about all of a sudden?"
"I was just repeating the exact words you told me the other day when you were wasted. You even drooled as you laughed. And then! You gave my sister flowers the very next day."
"……"
"Don't you dare flirt with her! Or I might really hire that man!"
"…Fine."
Even though Crimson Tiger was always polite and had never shown a hint of killing intent or revealed any noticeable aura, the two of them had always perceived him as a rather scary individual.
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The reason was twofold: 1) his identity was a complete mystery, and 2) whenever Crimson Tiger came, the guard captain, a peak expert responsible for protecting tens of thousands of taels, would always become visibly tense for a reason he himself couldn't explain.
"By the way, what kind of person is he really?"
"Who knows?"
"What if he turns out to be a wanted criminal? Won't we get in trouble too?"
"Watch your mouth!"
Im Chung flinched.
Yang Seohong shook his head. After knowing Crimson Tiger for seven years, he understood that the man's unwavering, almost excessive politeness had nothing to do with his personality. He simply wanted his money to be transferred safely.
As for who he was sending the money to? There was probably no one who wanted to know the answer more than Yang Seohong.
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"Come on. Let's get back to work."
Yang Seohong pushed Im Chung indoors and followed him, then glanced back at the spot where Crimson Tiger had disappeared. The man was long gone, but the image of him walking away remained in his mind.
Judging from the amount of money he was always depositing, he was most definitely not someone with a normal job. As Im Chung said, he could be an assassin, a thief, a murderer… or perhaps something even more terrifying. And yet, after dealing with him for seven years, a kind of unspoken camaraderie had formed between them.
Well, in the end, it didn't matter who he was. Yang Seohong simply prayed that the money he transferred every month wasn't used for evil purposes.
After changing his mask back to the one he used for work, Crimson Tiger went to the New Righteous Association Headquarters.
The Association Headquarters had nineteen gates in total, and the one he used was the very last, tucked away in the most secluded corner of the property.
Four martial artists stood guard there.
Among them was a man named Choi, who greeted him casually, "This business trip was quite long, eh?"
"Yeah, it happens," Crimson Tiger replied with a friendly smile. He outranked Choi, but they were close enough to call each other brothers.
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His cover identity was the warehouse manager of the Twenty-Seventh Military Supply Depot, a seemingly insignificant post under the Association's Supply Department, and his job was to purchase and supply weapons for the Mystery Pavilion's martial artists. This gave him a good excuse to frequently be absent under the convenient guise of business trips.
It was an optimal position for a cover identity, though honestly, the cover job didn't necessarily have to be within the Association. They simply wanted to keep Crimson Tiger close at all times.
"Did your work go well?"
"Yes. What about you? How's everything going?"
"Nothing ever happens around here," Choi replied, his voice laced with boredom.
He wasn't wrong. The scenery here never changed. Friendly martial artists, who made one wonder if they could actually fend off real attackers, took turns guarding a gate that less than twenty people passed through every day.
Whenever he passed through, Crimson Tiger felt as if time had stopped. However, he didn't mind the unchanging landscape. It had a soothing effect.
"Let's have a drink sometime."
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"Sure."
It was a greeting they always exchanged, even though Crimson Tiger had never actually followed through with it. After all, he didn't like forming relationships with others, especially martial artists.
Crimson Tiger crossed a small garden and entered the supply depot. It had a modest courtyard, usually empty, but today it was piled high with goods.
Five or six shirtless men were moving the goods, and one of them ran over to him, grinning cheerfully. Despite his sturdy build, he had a very kind demeanor. His name was Gong Cheol, and he was the most senior of Crimson Tiger's warehouse subordinates.
"Oh? You're back, Captain," Gong Cheol greeted.
For some reason, Gong Cheol never called him 'Warehouse Manager' but 'Captain'.
"Did any problems arise while I was away?"
"Of course not."
"What's all this then?" Crimson Tiger gestured towards the piled-up goods.
"These are weapons sent from Hwang Ironworks," Gong Cheol explained. "They met the delivery deadline, but those guys tried to pull something."
"What do you mean, they 'tried to pull something'?"
"Follow me."
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Gong Cheol led Crimson Tiger to a pile of weapons, including swords, daos, bows and arrows, and even various hidden weapons, placed right in front of the warehouse.
"Look at this," he said, picking out several weapons from the pile.
Crimson Tiger examined them carefully. "These aren't made by Hwang Ironworks."
"Exactly. Cheap materials, shoddy workmanship… They definitely outsourced them from another smithy."
"How many of these defective products are mixed in?"
"Nearly thirty percent are flawed, and as you can see, they include not only swords and daos, but also hidden weapons. Regardless of the quantity, it's infuriating that they tried to deceive us."
Crimson Tiger tilted his head, puzzled. Hwang Ironworks had been supplying weapons to the Association for a long time, and they had never done this before. Something was strange.
Gong Cheol frowned. "Should we drag those bastards here and beat them up?" he asked, half-jokingly and half-seriously.
Crimson Tiger shook his head. "Send word to Hwang Ironworks. Tell them to come see me."
"Understood."
"I'm going to rest a bit. I'll leave it to you guys to finish up."
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Leaving the warehouse staff to their work, Crimson Tiger made his way to a small house not far from the warehouse. Officially, it was a residence provided for warehouse managers like himself, and although it was too small for a family, it was comfortable enough for a man living alone.
Since it had been empty for some time, it was full of dust. Nevertheless, Crimson Tiger decided to postpone the cleaning for now, throwing down his luggage and making a beeline for the backyard. He was so exhausted that he could fall asleep the moment his head touched a pillow, but he had something more important to do first.
In the backyard, he went down a hidden staircase that led underground to his secret training hall.
One of the reasons he had chosen this house was that it had once been used as the entrance to an underground warehouse, with a large area, high ceiling, and solid walls on all sides. A perfect space for martial arts training.
Thus, he had slowly and carefully transformed the underground storehouse into a secret training facility, making sure that even the Radiant Hall didn't know of its existence. After all, he wanted this place to serve not only as a training hall, but also as a temporary shelter in case of an emergency.
To that end, he'd stored various emergency supplies and weapons, long-lasting food supplies there, and installed a bamboo pipe that provided fresh water. He'd even prepared an escape route, just in case.
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All in all, the renovations had cost him a lot of money and effort, but it was worth it. Here, he could train his martial arts without anyone watching.
Against a wall, there were dozens of identical, mass-produced swords lined up. Crimson Tiger picked up one of them at random.
He didn't carry any special sword of his own. Due to the nature of his work, he had to avoid leaving unique traces. Moreover, he often had to infiltrate places unarmed.
As such, he strove to bring out the full potential of his swordsmanship no matter what weapon he wielded. At first, it was difficult, and he came dangerously close to death more times than he cared to admit. However, through relentless dedication and effort, he eventually became accustomed to it. Now, whether it was a cheap one-silver sword or an opponent's prized blade, he could fight at his best.
Crimson Tiger began to practice his martial art, the Asura's Eight Narakas, in earnest.
The Asura's Eight Narakas was a sword style created by the Asura King Yama Cheon Danyang, a martial artist who belonged neither to the orthodox or unorthodox faction. Once celebrated as one of the ten greatest masters of the jianghu, he designed this technique to inflict the eight tortures of the Eight Hot Narakas upon his foes.1
Among the martial arts based on extreme yang qi, the Asura's Eight Narakas was undoubtedly the most powerful, and coupled with Cheon Danyang's might and fame, the martial art became known as one of the Eight Great Divine Arts of the murim.
As Crimson Tiger's master, the third-generation successor of the Asura King Yama, had severed ties with the jianghu to live in seclusion, the Asura's Eight Narakas was thought to be lost forever. Contrary to rumors, however, it had been passed down to him.
The Asura's Eight Narakas consisted of eight techniques of increasing difficulty:
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The First Naraka: The Sañjīva Blast.
The Second Naraka: The Kālasūtra Weave.
The Third Naraka: The Saṃghāta Edge.
The Fourth Naraka: The Raurava Cleave.
The Fifth Naraka: The Mahāraurava Ruin.
The Sixth Naraka: The Tapana Break.
The Seventh Naraka: The Pratāpana Void.
The Eighth Naraka: The Call of Avīci.
Crimson Tiger began learning the martial art when he was just six years old. After years filled with relentless effort, marked by blood, sweat, and tears, he finally attained complete mastery by the end of last year.
And yet, he had never used it. Not even once.
When he first became one of the Twelve Phantoms, the martial art he reported to the organization was not the Asura's Eight Narakas. He judged that if it became known he had mastered one of the Eight Divine Arts, it would cause a lot of trouble.
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Thanks to that decision, no one knew about it, even his handler, Yeon. The swordsmanship he displayed in public were variations he had created based on the Asura's Eight Narakas.
SWISH! SWOOSH!
Currently, Crimson Tiger wasn't infusing qi into his swings, yet the sounds of the sword cutting through the air were exceptionally crisp. If he poured out his qi, even walls made of steel wouldn't withstand it.
Every movement was executed with the utmost care. For martial arts, and all things really, a single proper drill was far more effective than ten hasty repetitions with poor form.
The Asura's Eight Narakas was a practical sword style that focused on substance rather than form, aiming for the most efficient way to kill. It suited him perfectly, but it had one major drawback—the style was so brutally violent that any experienced master who saw it would immediately recognize it. For this reason, he had been hesitant to use it until now.
After finishing a round of swordsmanship practice, Crimson Tiger put down the weapon and removed his sweat-soaked clothes, revealing dozens of large and small scars all over his body. Some were the remnants of fatal injuries that had once threatened his life.
After taking a deep breath, he began to practice his second martial art, a barehanded art.
The floor trembled beneath his swift steps as the heavy whooshing of his fists filled the air. The rhythm continued—fist to elbow, palm to shoulder, knee to back. This was the Thirteen Shadowless Maneuvers, a close-combat grappling technique that relied on the entire body to overwhelm the enemy, rather than just hands and feet.
The Thirteen Shadowless Maneuvers had been created by the Asura King Yama in his later years, almost as a way to stave off boredom. Despite its origins though, its power was anything but trivial. It was a pragmatic martial art, embodying the depth of the Asura King Yama's unparalleled insights in martial arts.
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Four years had passed since he began to devote himself to it, and he had only recently reached the intermediate stage, known as the Formless Realm. His goal was to achieve full mastery within a decade.
Even at its current level, the technique had saved him from several life-threatening situations, especially during that mission two years ago. Without it, he might not have survived.
Now, if he could perfect both the Asura's Eight Narakas and the Thirteen Shadowless Maneuvers, no one in the jianghu would pose a threat to him.
The technique, swift yet dignified, steadily climbed to peak intensity.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The fierce punches repeatedly rent the air, making the iron wall in front of him tremble. With the spirit of a master, he dedicated himself to each and every movement, and his body was quickly drenched in sweat.
Eventually though, he also finished practicing the Thirteen Shadowless Maneuvers.
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"Hoo…" Crimson Tiger exhaled slowly.
Except when unavoidable due to missions, he never skipped training, not even for a day, keeping in mind the old saying: one more drop of sweat shed today, one less drop of blood lost tomorrow.
The reason he put so much effort into the basics because of his master's teachings. For example, his master once said:
"Masters often say that being tied to techniques is foolish, and they're not wrong. If we liken martial arts to a plant, techniques are the roots and stem, while their practical application forms the flowers and leaves. However, it's crucial to remember that the idea of 'not being bound by techniques' applies only to those who have mastered them completely. After all, without a strong foundation to anchor the plant, there can be no flowers or leaves."
Right now, Crimson Tiger still hadn't fully mastered the practical applications of the Asura's Eight Narakas, even though he had completely mastered its techniques. Had it not been for his master's words, he might have become overconfident.
"One day you will achieve complete mastery of the techniques, but remember, that day is not the end, it is the beginning. To use a worldly analogy, achieving complete mastery is merely learning how to brew wine. Compared to someone who doesn't know how to make wine at all, it's a great and valuable thing. But how can all wines be equal? A foolish person will get drunk on improperly aged wine and brag about it to others. On the other hand, a wise person will begin a new journey with others who know how to brew, striving to create the best wine. Which is the path that you want to take?"
At the time, he didn't understand the profound meaning behind his master's words. After achieving complete mastery of the Asura's Eight Narakas, however, he could now understand how insanely difficult it was to truly perfect a martial art.
This was just the beginning.
Shaking off the lingering desire to see his master, Crimson Tiger plopped down on a bed in a corner of the training hall. It was harder and more uncomfortable than the bed in his house, but he felt more at ease here. It was the only place where he could truly rest comfortably.
Fatigue washed over him. For the past month, his workload had been unbearable, with one mission after another. It had been far too long since he'd had a proper night's sleep.
If only he could just rest for ten days like this…
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With that thought, he fell into a deep sleep.
He dreamed of that day.
On a particularly bright and sunny morning, his master was out, and he was training in the courtyard when suddenly, she waltzed through the gates with the same innocent expression on her face as when they had first met.
Convinced they would never cross paths again, he was caught completely off guard.
"Were you training?" she asked casually, almost as if they were lovers who had spent the night together just yesterday, even though it had been a year since her abrupt disappearance.
"Yes," he replied, trying to hide his surprise. Even so, his voice trembled slightly.
Many a time, he'd thought about seeking her out after she'd vanished with only a letter, but his pride always got in the way. Maybe he didn't want to feel abandoned, or maybe he was just afraid to hear the truth about why she had left.
"Huh?"
As she slowly approached him, he saw something that made his heart skip a beat.
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An infant, wrapped in a silk cloth, lay in her arms.
He looked at the baby in disbelief. It was a baby girl, not yet a hundred days old, with distinct features. He didn't have to ask whose child it was. He could tell just by looking.
She was his daughter.
His hands trembled, and his heart began to pound madly.
She carefully handed him the baby.
"Ahh, wait. Ack!" he squealed, awkwardly cradling the baby. It was his first time holding such a young infant. Terrified that his qi would flow out unconsciously, his legs felt wobbly.
"Isn't she beautiful?" she asked.
He nodded blankly. The baby girl's bright eyes were so clear and transparent, her nose sharp, her cheeks plump and soft, and her eyelashes incredibly long.
Can a baby have eyelashes this long? he wondered.
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She gazed at him calmly for a while, then said, "…I'm leaving."
"What?"
As he stared at her in confusion, the baby suddenly wailed.
DING!
Crimson Tiger's eyes shot open. A taut thread at his side was vibrating and making sounds. This was a signal that someone was right outside his house. He'd hidden very thin threads all over the vicinity so that he could be alerted whenever someone visited him.
"Phew," he exhaled, getting out of bed. He threw on his shirt, strapped his sword to his belt, and touched a hidden mechanism at his side.
The ceiling opened up smoothly, and with a single leap, he jumped onto the courtyard above, then walked to the front door.
As it turned out, the visitor was Yeon.
"Why are you here?" he asked, noting the position of the moon. It was around midnight.
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"You have received orders to embark on an urgent mission."
Crimson Tiger's eyes narrowed slightly. He had just completed five missions in a row. Wasn't it heartless of the organization to not even give him a day's rest?
With an apologetic tone, Yeon added, "I'm sorry, but this really is urgent."
"What is it?"
"It's a support request from Rabbit."
"Rabbit? You mean White Rabbit?"
White Rabbit's original codename was Snow Rabbit, but she preferred to be called White Rabbit instead because she felt she looked good in white. Coincidentally, after Green Snake, he was assigned another mission to assist a damsel in distress.
"Yes, that's right. Her."
"Where is she?"
"She's on an escort mission about a hundred kilometers from here."
Crimson Tiger nodded silently.
"Will you refuse?" Yeon asked, even though she knew he couldn't refuse. That was just how the organization worked.
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Crimson Tiger smiled. Even though it was meaningless, it felt nice that Yeon always asked like this.
"No, I'll do it. However, could I take a moment to wash up first?" he asked.
Yeon smiled pleasantly. "Of course."
Crimson Tiger returned to his house. White Rabbit wouldn't have asked for help unless it was urgent, yet he didn't rush.
In the past, he would have bolted the moment she spoke, running until his lungs burned and his heart threatened to burst. Now, though, he felt differently. He had grown tired of living on the edge.
If the short time he took to wash up led to her death, then that was her fate. Conversely, if he ended up needing help and no one came, he was fine with that. He refused to live in constant anxiety any longer.
If he wasn't a little bit detached, there was no way he could endure this crazy job.
SLOSH, SLOSH…
Listening to the faint sound of splashing water, Yeon gazed at the unusually bright moon, lost in thought.
"Aren't you tired?" Crimson Tiger suddenly asked from inside the bathroom.
Still gazing at the moon, Yeon smiled slightly. "No," she replied.
It was a lie. She had twice the workload of the other handlers because Crimson Tiger received twice as many missions.
Still, she never let it show. The day she did would be the day she quit this job. In her mind, sheer determination could see her through anything. Whether she succeeded or gave up was entirely up to her.
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Some time later, Crimson Tiger stepped out of the bathroom in a fresh martial arts uniform, his hair still damp.
Seeing a leaf fall right in front of him, he drew his sword.
SWISH! SWOOSH! SLASH!
After listening to the crisp, refreshing sound of Crimson Tiger's slashes a few times, Yeon saw the leaf resting gently on the flat edge of his sword.
WHOOOOSH!
A gust of wind blew past, and the leaf split into four pieces and scattered into the air. It had already been sliced, but somehow it had retained its original shape.
With a clink, Crimson Tiger sheathed his sword. He had displayed his art as if to thank Yeon for waiting for him.
"Let's go," he said, moving to leave.
A pleasant fragrance wafted from him as he passed by Yeon, slightly easing her fatigue.
SHHHH…
Behind the two, the four pieces of the leaf fluttering in the wind split again into sixteen pieces and scattered, but only Crimson Tiger and the wind knew that secret.
Footnotes:
-
Naraka is the term for "hell" in Indian religions, but the Buddhist Narakas differ from the Christian concept of hell in 3 ways: 1) beings are not sent to naraka as a result of divine punishment, they are born there as a result of bad karma accumulated in their previous lives. 2) The duration of a being's stay in a naraka is not eternal, although it is usually incomprehensibly long. 3) there are many different types of naraka, the most well-known being the 8 hot and 8 cold narakas. ↩
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