Failed Possession Chapter-94

## Ch-94.

—

Haryeong did not choose a Tang Clan martial art.

“Even if incomplete, I have already learned Tang Clan techniques.”

For hidden weapons, she had learned *Ruthless Killing Stream*. In addition, she had stolen glances to learn *Ten Thousand Flowers Rain*. As for inner cultivation, she had studied *Vast Origin Art*.

“I only managed to learn about half of each formula. But at this point, rather than obtaining the latter half of those incomplete teachings, I thought it better to acquire an entirely superior martial art.”

It was true that *Ruthless Killing Stream* represented the Tang Clan’s hidden-weapon arts. But that word “representative” was deceptive.

It meant that most Tang Clan martial artists could use it. Though the Tang Clan held leadership positions within the vast Salho gate, their numbers were not enormous. Still, it was a martial art most clan members could learn and wield. That meant its overall grade was not particularly high.

Seen another way, Haryeong had not even been permitted to properly learn *Ruthless Killing Stream*—a technique most Tang Clan members could.

Likewise, *Vast Origin Art* was considered a foundational cultivation method within the clan.

“Isn’t Poison-Blood Divine Art quite a strong technique?” Yuri asked.

That was true in the game—but Haryeong shook her head.

“To cultivate Poison-Blood Divine Art requires far too many prerequisites.”

That martial art formed a poison core within the dantian, transforming inner power itself into poison. Blood and qi would carry toxin instead of vitality, gradually turning the practitioner into a poison being.

The Tang Clan was defined by hidden weapons and poison. Over its long history, it had accumulated countless toxins. To begin Poison-Blood Divine Art, one had to ingest poison regularly, stage by stage, to form the poison core.

For an outsider, it was virtually impossible. Even if one somehow obtained the manual and began training, without access to proper poisons, it was meaningless.

“As for Heavenly Maiden Flying Garment Technique, its grade is simply too low. This is a chance to obtain a divine art. Choosing it merely because it is from the Tang Clan would be foolish.”

She had chosen something else.

**Taiji Reversal Scripture.**

A martial art that had not existed in the game—something entirely new to Yuri.

A martial art of *Intent-Poison*. It was the legacy of a martial artist from a century ago known as Heavenly Slaughter Poison Doctor. It deserved to be called a divine art.

That also meant it was exceedingly difficult. Until one reached a certain realm, it offered no practical power as a poison art. The very requirement of properly wielding Intent meant reaching at least Rank 6—and even reaching Rank 6 did not guarantee mastery of Intent-Poison.

But once one could, through Taiji Reversal Scripture, transform and govern Intent as poison—

With sheer will alone, one could shatter protective qi and infiltrate it, inducing poisoning directly.

“Until I reach that realm, I cannot even use Intent-Poison. But compared to my half-baked Vast Origin Art, this is on another level. The very way it governs inner power is of a different grade.”

Though it sounded impressive, the fact that a poison art could not yet properly wield poison seemed a significant drawback. Based on her explanation, Taiji Reversal Scripture almost sounded incomplete.

After all, it did not control real poison—only Intent-Poison. If she could later combine it with genuine Tang Clan poison arts and learn to wield poison qi, her martial prowess would advance enormously. And if she remained his ally, Haryeong’s growth was by no means a bad thing for Yuri.

‘In the end, we’ll have to resolve the Tang Clan issue.’

On the bright side, it was fortunate she had not chosen Poison-Blood Divine Art.

In the game, Poison-Blood Divine Art had been a unique skill.

At present, the Tang Clan was led by the Dark King—but in the game, killing the future clan head, the Poison King, dropped an epic poison skill. If Yuri’s guess was correct—that Haryeong was the illegitimate child of the current head and could claim legitimacy—then once the clan’s internal affairs were resolved, she might even inherit that epic art.

“I’ll be locking myself in my room for a few days to begin Taiji Reversal Scripture. Even if you miss me, please endure it, Yuri-nim.”

“Yes.”

“Even if you can’t endure it and knock on my door, I won’t open it.”

“I won’t knock.”

“And if you force the door open or climb in through the window at night, I’ll—”

“That won’t happen. Rest assured.”

After their usual pointless banter, they returned to their respective rooms.

His body had not fully recovered, but he could at least sit quietly and practice breathing and meditation.

‘Death-Defying Banner.’

He tried consciously calling upon it—but the crimson banner did not appear.

As he had sensed earlier, it would not manifest normally. Only when he stood at death’s brink.

‘If I use it, won’t the War Church trace me?’

He had worried about that when first choosing it. But it was better than dying.

Setting the thought aside, Yuri immersed himself in *Evil-Quelling Heavenly Principle Technique* and *Gate-Sealing Thunder*.

—

—

Three days passed.

Aside from occasional trivial conversations with Estor, Yuri did not leave his room. Servants brought everything he needed.

“I can’t believe you didn’t knock even once.”

Haryeong returned after three days, grumbling.

“You told me not to.”

“Since when were you so obedient?”

“I don’t recall ever disobeying.”

Three days was too short to feel any dramatic reunion.

“Did you enter successfully?”

“It was difficult, given its complexity. But yes.”

Outwardly, nothing had changed. But Yuri’s sharpened perception of mana could faintly sense a qualitative shift in Haryeong’s qi.

‘No… it’s still changing.’

She was in the midst of transformation.

“Congratulations.”

“Congratulations.”

Estor echoed the sentiment.

Haryeong nodded stiffly and looked at Yuri.

“I would like to congratulate you as well, but I don’t quite perceive your change.”

“As it happens, I need your help.”

“Are you really going to do that?”

Estor groaned, already exasperated. Had Haryeong not returned today, he would have had to take her place.

“What sort of help?”

Haryeong tilted her head.

Yuri answered.

She stared at him, deadpan.

“Are you insane?”

“It’s better if you do it instead of Estor.”

“…That may be true. If insane Yuri insists, I’ll do it. But are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

She did not look enthusiastic—but neither did she outright refuse.

Stepping back, Haryeong drew daggers in both hands.

“I’ll ask again. Are you certain?”

“Give me a moment.”

Standing in the middle of the wide room, Yuri nodded. His eyes were closed, and he had wrapped thick cloth around them. After three days of rest, he could move without much strain.

“I don’t think this is fine.”

Estor muttered uneasily. To him, this looked less like training and more like madness.

“You won’t actually kill him, will you?”

“As if I would throw daggers intending to kill Yuri.”

“If we’re doing this, at least add a little killing intent.”

“What does ‘a little’ even mean?”

“Like… you want to kill me, but not really.”

“…Yuri. Place your hand on your chest and reconsider what you just said. Does that make sense?”

“Just throw them.”

With his eyes covered, Yuri could see nothing but darkness.

He inhaled slowly and deployed Gate-Sealing Thunder.

—Crackle…

The sound echoed inside him.

An invisible web of lightning spread outward from his body. One meter—the maximum range he could fully control.

He nodded.

“You may begin—”

Haryeong did not wait for him to finish.

She threw.

Ten daggers hurtled toward him—sharp enough to kill, unblunted, aimed precisely at vital points, with trajectories predicting his evasions.

The daggers struck the outer edge of his lightning web.

The lightning could not slow, bind, or alter their trajectory. But if Gate-Sealing Thunder advanced further, perhaps it could.

Not yet.

For now, all it could do was *read*.

One meter was almost nothing, given the daggers’ speed.

But the instant they touched the web, Yuri’s body moved.

The lightning threads extended from him were like nerves connected to his body.

Pak-pak-pak!

Ten daggers.

Four caught in his hands.

Six avoided.

Not a single hit.

Haryeong gasped in pure admiration.

Estor stood frozen, mouth agape.

Yuri had barely taken a few steps.

“…Hmm.”

Removing the cloth from his eyes, Yuri frowned.

He had avoided and caught them—but it wasn’t satisfactory.

He had wanted to catch them all.

He had also moved more than intended.

The web was not the problem. His physical reaction speed was lacking.

‘I tried not to, but I relied on hearing too.’

The whistling of air could not be ignored.

If he relied on other senses, he would not purely train lightning perception. Should he intensify the lightning within his body to maximize reflexes? But that would reduce the web’s precision…

‘Long way to go.’

His mastery of Gate-Sealing Thunder was insufficient.

“Next time, I’ll block my ears too.”

“I—I’ll try.”

Estor rushed forward.

“You? It’ll be difficult.”

“I am Estor Orsia, the Sword Dragon.”

“…And?”

“I trust myself.”

With that stubborn declaration, Yuri stepped aside.

“Just close your eyes. Don’t wrap them.”

“I think that’s wise.”

Estor nodded.

“If I cover them, I’ll be too aware of it.”

He drew his sword.

“Why hold the sword?”

“I’m not a brawler. I’m a swordsman. I feel more at ease with a blade in hand.”

“Suit yourself.”

Haryeong once again gripped her daggers.

Yuri passed a few extra daggers to her.

Estor stood in the center of the room, closed his eyes, and focused.

Soon, the daggers were thrown.

—KWA-CRASH!

A far louder, more chaotic noise rang out than when Yuri had done it. Rather than dodging, Estor swung his sword at maximum speed, smashing the incoming daggers away.

“…Hmm.”

Estor slowly opened his eyes and looked around. A few blades had grazed him, slicing his clothes—but not his skin. In the end, he had not been hit.

However, the surroundings were a disaster. The window was shattered, furniture splintered, and the room lay in ruins from the deflected daggers.

“You didn’t squint, did you?” Yuri asked.

“I also think you squinted midway,” Haryeong added.

Estor did not answer immediately. He sheathed his sword, then slowly crouched to collect the daggers embedded around the room.

“This shouldn’t be done indoors.”

“I asked if you squinted.”

“I’m not used to swinging a sword with my eyes closed. I must have unconsciously…”

“This is all your doing.”

“Yuri contributed too.”

“I didn’t send them flying in all directions like you did.”

Perhaps due to the commotion, a knock sounded at the door.

“What is going—”

The servant who entered after receiving permission froze stiff at the sight. A room that had contained nothing but the finest furnishings now looked like a battlefield.

“I’ll compensate for it.”

The wealthy Estor puffed out his chest as if he had committed no wrongdoing at all. The servant opened and closed his mouth for a moment, then coughed awkwardly and shook his head.

“I-I will report this to the Lord first. Also… you have visitors.”

“Visitors? They would be guests of the Maybeld household. Why us?”

“They are priests from the War Church and the Hammer Church.”

At that answer, Yuri’s expression stiffened slightly. It was news he had been expecting—but whether it was good or bad remained uncertain.

“Understood.”

“I will guide you to the reception room. As for this room…”

The servant glanced once more at the devastation and forced an awkward smile.

“We will prepare a new room for you.”

Thus, they ended up changing rooms yet again. The first time had been because Lacy had vomited. This time, because Estor had sent daggers flying everywhere.

‘Not my fault.’

—

—

In the first-floor reception room sat the head of the household, Alnair, his guard Eleia, and two clergymen.

‘A woman?’

No—a man? The priest in gray robes was so delicate in appearance that Yuri briefly questioned it, but the slight protrusion of his Adam’s apple and his rough, calloused hands made it clear he was male.

Beside him stood a large man in crimson robes, with a square jaw and sharp eyes. Both priests nodded slightly at Yuri and Haryeong as they entered.

“I am Pound Dned of the War Church.”

“I am Allen Suface of the Hammer Church.”

The introductions had barely ended when Alnair rose from his seat.

“Now that the guests are here, I have no need to remain, do I?”

“You truly have no intention of yielding those items?” Pound asked, his eyes flashing.

Alnair frowned and looked down at him.

“I dislike repeating myself.”

“But, Lord Maybeld, those items—”

“The War Church offered no help when the incident occurred four days ago. I can tolerate you arriving late and making a nuisance of yourselves. But coveting the spoils as well—isn’t that too much?”

“The War Church could not intervene because there is no War Church temple in this city. And who prevented one from being built? The Maybeld family.”

“So what?”

Pound fell silent at the retort.

“If that’s the problem, build one outside the city. With the astronomical donations Maybeld has made, you can’t even manage that? I suspect the donations made during my tenure alone could build a small city.”

“…”

“And frankly, I am displeased that someone of your rank came. Why? Are all your high priests busy rampaging in the Bernok Conflict?”

“Lord Maybeld, do not insult me.”

“Who is insulting whom? In my city, in my house, you swagger in and demand I hand over property. Is that not an insult?”

The atmosphere grew tense. Yuri quietly observed. From context, the “items” being discussed were clearly Agwi’s belongings.

“You verified them and found no issues, yes? You collected the blood and flesh for tracking—that was you. But demanding the items as well crosses the line.”

“…”

“The right to the prey belongs to the hunter. If you continue spouting nonsense, hmm… what shall I do? All I can do is reduce donations.”

At that taunt, Pound’s face paled. He worked his lips, then exhaled heavily and nodded.

“Very well. I cannot represent the entire War Church, but I will no longer demand the transfer of Agwi’s belongings.”

“Don’t leave room for ambiguity. Even if your High Priest comes, my decision will not change.”

“Understood.”

Allen, who had been silent, spoke calmly.

“Among Agwi’s belongings were relics crafted by the Hammer Church. Yet we do not claim ownership. It is rather unpleasant to hear the War Church insist on them.”

“Why were your relics in Agwi’s possession to begin with?”

“How should I know? Most of our relics roam beyond the Church’s walls.”

“That’s nothing to boast about.”

“It is unfortunate that one of our relics was in the hands of such an evil being. But that does not warrant mockery. He likely killed the original owner and took it. We simply bestowed our creations upon one deemed worthy. That is the will of the Smith God we serve.”

Pound’s brow twitched.

“Worthy? Allen Suface. In your eyes, was Chuk shin-do—that mad Possessor—worthy?”

“If he was the Martial Zenith, was he not worthy?”

“The issue is that he was a Possessor!”

“And what does his being a Possessor have to do with my forging him a weapon? Moreover, it was the War Church that left him unchecked from the beginning.”

Alnair, uninterested in the theological dispute, left the room midway.

Yuri listened, irritation scraping inside his chest.

“Excuse me.”

Unable to endure further, he spoke, glaring at both priests.

“If you intend only to argue amongst yourselves, why summon us?”

“My apologies.”

Allen immediately bowed.

“The reason we sought you out, Yuri, is to deliver Agwi’s belongings.”

“Tch.”

Pound clicked his tongue openly, but perhaps due to Alnair’s warning, he refrained from demanding ownership.

“As an envoy of the War Church, I have also come to hear directly about the events four days ago.”

“I already submitted a written report.”

“We have reviewed it. But this concerns one of the Saints of the Evil God. The report lacked detail.”

“…I see.”

“Therefore, please recount in detail what occurred within the False Sanctuary. How Agwi used miracles. And what he said.”

A reasonable request. Yuri sat opposite Pound and began recounting.

—

—

“So Agwi was one of the perpetrators behind the Laspion family massacre?”

Allen’s voice rose in shock.

“To my knowledge, the culprit had not yet been identified.”

“To be precise, suspicion had long fallen upon the Chaos Cult. What remained unknown was which individual within it.”

Pound’s gaze grew cold.

“According to the War Church’s intelligence, the Laspion sword art was highly valued among Possessors. The sudden massacre was surely for that art. Agwi himself may have been a Possessor. Cloud Dragon—did he ever claim such?”

“He did not.”

Yuri was privately convinced Agwi had been a Possessor—but Agwi had never admitted it. There was no need to invite suspicion.

“…Hmm.”

After hearing everything, Pound studied Yuri carefully.

‘They held him off for five minutes…?’

By rumor, the two were Rank 5.

Two Rank 5s delaying a Saint of the Evil God was impossible. Even if Agwi had been arrogant, the notion that a Saint-level being had “played” and still failed to kill them defied common sense.

Which meant—they were exceptional.

The War Church had already judged as much, but hearing it firsthand convinced Pound as well.

“Though the Saint escaped using Geas, we consider Agwi to have effectively lost his Saintly power.”

Pound looked solemnly at Yuri and Haryeong.

“Cloud Dragon. Dark Flower. You have rendered great service in eradicating the Evil God and his minions.”

Yuri sensed what was coming.

“You are worthy of the honor of becoming our brothers and sisters.”

“…Pardon?”

“I formally invite you to the Grand Temple of the War Church in Union.”

In Pound’s mind, this was practical. He had failed to claim Agwi’s belongings. If he could not seize them, then bringing their rightful owner—Cloud Dragon—into the War Church would suffice.

“….”

But to Yuri, this was not a welcome gift.