Crimson God-Slaying Sword (1)
Bisa-yeong knew well that he had no chance of victory. Even against an early-stage Peak master it would've been impossible, and judging from the length of his opponent's blade aura, this man wasn't merely at the entry stage.
If he clashed head-on, he'd be cleaved in two in a single stroke.
But that didn't mean he could run.
To flee before Jeongan would be shameful enough, but more than that, if he abandoned her here, he knew full well what fate awaited her.
Bisa-yeong clenched his teeth.
"I never wanted to stake my life on this… but this time, I have no choice."
Meanwhile, the Zhangshan Demonic Generals' second brother, Demonic Blade Myeong Daesul, watching Bisa-yeong, thought he understood why the man was so recklessly trying to face him.
"Because the girl was captured."
No doubt she was his beloved.
That made it all the more entertaining.
He wanted to see the look on her face when she watched her lover die before her very eyes. He planned to make it as brutal as possible.
As he strolled closer, Myeong Daesul suddenly sprang forward.
"Die!"
Pow!
But as he aimed to hack off the man's arm in a flash, he had to let out a startled sound.
"Huh?"
Despite his sudden lunge, the distance between them did not close.
The man had retreated backward at the exact same speed, maintaining the gap.
To move so swiftly while retreating—his footwork was indeed extraordinary.
Myeong Daesul sneered.
"What's this? Didn't you want to save that wench? Idiot—seems all you can do is tuck tail and run. I thought you were some gallant hero, but you're just a mongrel cur, eh?"
He intended to provoke him.
Nothing was easier than riling up those self-righteous orthodox types.
But contrary to his expectations, instead of charging in anger, Bisa-yeong smirked faintly and retorted:
"What nonsense are you spouting, you dung beetle? Don't tell me you can't even keep up with a man retreating, and that's why you're flapping your lips? Unbelievable. Hey! Why are you so slow? Was your mother perhaps a turtle?"
Hack!
Myeong Daesul choked in surprise, coughing.
He'd assumed this one was a proper orthodox fighter—yet he talked like some street thug!
And since becoming a Peak master, he had never been insulted like this.
That a worm would dare insult not only him but even his mother?!
Though a demonic master of the Blood Cult, he still held gratitude toward his mother. Now fury boiled up inside him.
His expression twisted as he ground his teeth.
"You bastard…"
But Bisa-yeong wasn't done.
Feigning a dramatic expression of shock, he went on:
"Oh my, forgive me! To call your mother a turtle—how cruel of me! I went too far. My apologies. If you're a dung beetle, then your mother must be one too. Isn't that right, you little dung beetle?"
With a sly grin, he posed the question. That was the final straw.
"You bastard!!"
Myeong Daesul roared, charging furiously.
But even as he came on, Bisa-yeong kept gliding backward, swiftly evading the man's reach.
Clicking his tongue, he even shook his head in mock pity.
"Tch, tch. How pitiful."
"Arghhh! I'll tear you to pieces!!"
Myeong Daesul poured all his strength into accelerating.
He could see nothing else now but the goal of shredding this man apart.
The shrinking distance was all that filled his vision.
But in Bisa-yeong's mind—though his face twisted into a mocking smirk—he was calm, colder than ever.
Trading barbs like this was second nature; sparring words with Seonu Jin had trained him well.
Compared to giving thanks or offering praise, mocking an opponent was far easier.
With icy focus, he kept his senses spread, not just his eyes, feeling everything behind him. And then he realized something was there, along his backward path.
At once, he devised a plan.
The next moment, Myeong Daesul saw him step back onto a stone.
"Eh?!"
The look of surprise as the man tripped backward, sprawling onto the ground—
Overjoyed, Myeong Daesul burst into wild laughter and leapt upon him.
"Wahaha! Got you—!"
But then, Bisa-yeong, rolling once on the ground, suddenly shot off diagonally like an arrow.
Bang!
In a flash of light, his body streaked away in the opposite direction.
Myeong Daesul could only shriek in shock.
"Whaaat?!"
The technique Bisa-yeong had just used was none other than Explosive Advance Steps (Pokjinbo), once employed by the Mighty Demon Ape Jeo Ung-won.
When Seonu Jin had found the Blood Cult manuals on that corpse, he had split the other techniques to send by letter—but had suggested Bisa-yeong try mastering Pokjinbo.
He had even joked that giving it to Bae Jong-gwan to learn would be amusing.
The technique had once shown explosive, cannonball-like acceleration when Jeo Ung-won used it. For Bisa-yeong to employ it now left Myeong Daesul utterly helpless.
"It worked!"
Soaring toward immobilized Jeongan, Bisa-yeong at last grinned in genuine triumph.
This was his victory. From the start, his aim had been to rescue Jeongan, not to defeat the foe.
"My lady!"
He was nearly upon her when—
Laughter rang out.
"Ha ha ha ha! Splendid! Truly splendid!"
From the rooftop.
A chill stabbed into Bisa-yeong's chest.
A presence his senses had not detected at all—
Someone was dropping from above, landing in front of Jeongan.
And Bisa-yeong hadn't reached her yet.
"Damn!"
He gritted his teeth.
Now, he truly had no choice but to risk his life.
"Haaaap!"
Shoo!
His swift blade carved the air like a thin line—
But failed to touch the opponent.
Tap!
With a simple motion, the stranger pinched the blade between two fingers.
Bisa-yeong's vision blurred with disbelief.
He hadn't dodged. He hadn't blocked. He had caught it—so easily.
He couldn't even fathom what level of master this was.
Perhaps this was the end for him.
But contrary to his fears, the stranger merely smiled and spoke.
"Don't worry. I am not your enemy."
"…What?"
In his blurred vision, Bisa-yeong saw Jeongan suddenly sway—her acupoints released.
Beaming brightly, she exclaimed:
"Oh! My acupoints are undone!"
It had to be this man's doing.
"Not an enemy… truly?"
Only then did Bisa-yeong study his face properly.
A man in his early twenties, strikingly beautiful.
Pale features, a clear smile, and—most memorable of all—his eyes closed tightly, for some unknown reason.
His voice was as clear as his smile.
"My apologies for startling you. My senior brother and I have been searching for the abducted women. On the way to Gogeom Sect, I happened upon not two, but four of you."
Bisa-yeong blinked, bewildered.
Searching for abducted women?
And four—did that mean he knew of Seonu Jin and Lady Jeongyeon as well?
Before Bisa-yeong could ask, the man continued:
"Details can wait. First, we should deal with that fellow."
When Bisa-yeong turned, Myeong Daesul was charging with a face twisted like a demon.
"You bastard! I'll kill you!!"
But the closed-eyed man stepped past Bisa-yeong, walking toward him.
His steps seemed weightless, as though not of this world.
And at once, Bisa-yeong realized what that meant.
"An incredible footwork."
Bisa-yeong swallowed hard.
At a glance, he realized—the man's footwork was no less than his own.
And it wasn't just his steps that shocked him.
The stranger slowly drew his sword.
It wasn't fast, nor unusual—just a simple, ordinary motion.
So why was it impossible to look away?
It was as though he alone existed in another world.
And when at last the blade came free and moved, Bisa-yeong saw it:
As the azure sword aura swept out, a crimson twilight unfolded around it.
His mind couldn't comprehend it. The sight was too majestic.
"T-that's impossible…"
But even this wasn't the most shocking thing.
The enemy, a Peak master with at least seventy years of inner cultivation, who had been charging in headlong—his body was splitting apart.
It was as if he had willingly thrown himself onto the blade, cleaving himself in two.
For a moment, it almost looked like suicide.
At that moment, Jeongan's trembling whisper reached Bisa-yeong's ears.
"Cheongun… Jeokhagum? How…?"
Hm? Jeokhagum?
He had heard of it.
A sword art of the Cheongseong Sect—said to manifest once in a century, if ever.
Even Han Gyoseong, the First Squad Leader once hailed as a genius of Cheongseong, had failed to realize it.
And this man…
Having just slain a Peak master in a single stroke, he turned with that same bright smile and introduced himself.
"Pleased to meet you. I am Lee Geon of Cheongseong."
He had already sensed them arriving before he executed One Strike, One Kill.
That was why he answered the man addressing him without a flicker of unease.
"One Strike, One Kill? Are you from Jeomchang Sect?"
"Not a formal disciple, but something close enough. And you—are you a demonic master of the Blood Cult?"
Outwardly he answered casually. Inwardly, he sighed.
One Peak master down—and three more emerged.
One with over eighty years of cultivation, the other two at least at the early Peak stage.
Like peeling onions—layer after layer.
That the Blood Cult could dispatch experts of this caliber even to a remote region… their strength was terrifying.
Or perhaps they valued this place more highly than he had thought.
Either way, it was undeniably perilous.
Logically, he should escape immediately.
"Troublesome."
Yet strangely, his heart was at ease.
Instead, he felt the urge—the impulse to test himself.
Ever since that battle with Muk-rang and the Mighty Demon Ape, he had replayed the fight countless times in his head.
And his conclusion was clear.
Before that fight and after it, his world had changed. Aside from the final Emptiness-is-Form technique, everything else—he now felt he could do.
And so, he wanted to test just how far he had come.
"That one. The demonic master with eighty years of cultivation—once, I would've only fled. Now, I want to face him."
But in the end, he chose otherwise.
If he were alone, perhaps. But not with Lady Jeongyeon here. He could not gamble recklessly.
"A pity."
Suppressing the impulse, he sent a hurried transmission to her.
— He's beyond me. At least eighty years of cultivation. We must escape with everything we have. When I count to three, you must get on my back. Be ready. One, two…
It was frustrating—he had just regained composure after separating from her embrace, and now he'd have to carry her again. But there was no choice.
Meanwhile, the demonic master responded to his question, unsuspecting.
His relaxed demeanor gave no hint of flight.
"Heh heh heh. This elder is Demon Sword Yang Bul-gi, first of the Zhangshan Generals. And the one you just killed was my fourth younger brother…"
"Three! Let's go, my lady!"
He snatched her up, ready to bolt—
When suddenly, from the Gogeom Sect's direction, another figure shot in like a meteor.
"Haaaahhp!"
The man's sword blazed with a long crimson aura, trailing a tail like a comet.
That length of sword aura—this one too was at least a Peak master with eighty years of cultivation.
"But… that sword aura is aimed not at me, but at the demonic master?"
He paused, holding back his flight, to watch.
Yang Bul-gi, the so-called Demon Sword, only noticed the ambush at the last moment. Hastily, he drew and swung to meet it.
"Who dares?! Huaaahhhp!"
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
In midair, crimson sword aura clashed against crimson blade aura, scattering sparks like fireworks.
In that fleeting exchange, they traded several blows in rapid succession.
And the outcome of their clash became clear.
"Huuuaahhhhp!"
Boom-boom-boom!
Yang Bul-gi unleashed strokes like crashing thunder, each swing a red lightning bolt from the heavens.
But the newcomer's sword… it was like twilight.
Shwaaaah!
As his sword cut, a glow like the crimson dusk spread, enveloping the field.
Even the thunderous lightning strikes dissolved within that glow, their power melting away.
It was like watching lightning sink into the horizon at sunset.
Then, at his side, Lady Jeongyeon's joyous voice rang out.
"Jeokhagum technique! It's Senior Brother Hwa!"
What? Senior Brother Hwa?
Then this man was none other than the Crimson God-Slaying Sword, Hwa Yeong-bin, disciple of the Cheongseong Monster Immortal?
At her words, he looked closer in awe.
The first thing that struck him was the man's extraordinary appearance.
Though likely in his mid-to-late thirties, he looked no older than twenty-eight—a youthful, handsome man.
And his martial level was astounding.
Roughly ninety years of cultivation.
Not yet at the transcendental stage—but standing right before it.
Among the fighters in their thirties he had met, none—not even Squad Leader Seol Pung—had reached this height.
And his Jeokhagum technique…
Words failed.
It was not swift and lethal like One Strike, One Kill, but simply watching it was like beholding nature itself.
"So this is the true sword of a Daoist who pursues the Way."
That thought came unbidden.
At that moment, the two early-stage Peak demonic masters who had accompanied Yang Bul-gi leapt in to attack.
"You cur! We're here too!"
"Master, we'll assist you!"
A grin spread across his face.
Of course, even with their help, the Crimson God-Slaying Sword would hardly falter.
But he couldn't just stand idle.
If nothing else, testing himself against them would lighten his mood.
Shouting, he sprang forward.
"Why are you heading that way?! Don't leave me out!"
Wings of radiant sword-light spread wide from his blade, sweeping toward the oncoming foes.