Chapter 26. Blind Revenge (2)
The sword I thrust pierced through Dan Muk-sang's gaunt chest. I could feel the sensation of crushing a heart through the blade's tip.
Kwoong!
The axe that had been relentlessly hacking at me fell to the ground. The demonic energy that had been gnawing at the surroundings had long since dissipated.
Dan Muk-sang, who had been blankly staring at the sword protruding from his chest, grabbed it with his battered hands.
His hands were so deeply cut that the bones were exposed, and one of his fingers had been severed and lost somewhere, adding yet another wound to his already ruined hands.
Gguuk.
The sharp blade dug into his palm. Despite having his dantian shattered and his heart crushed, the strength in his grip was astonishing, almost incomprehensible.
However, the harder he squeezed, the deeper his wounds grew, and yet he couldn't muster enough strength to pull the sword out.
"Kuhugh!"
In the end, he vomited blood and collapsed limply. The hand that had clung to the sword slipped off.
Blood dripped steadily. Dan Muk-sang, who barely managed to lift his head, glared at me with his bloodshot eyes.
Even though his body had collapsed, his willpower remained unbroken.
"You... you damned brat. I should have killed you… I should have done it back then… But it's not too late even now. Kill yourself quickly."
"This feels a bit unfair. If you think about it, I have a grudge against you, not the other way around. But I suppose now you do."
"That's not what I… Kugh!"
Dan Muk-sang coughed up blood once again, his complexion growing even paler as he spoke.
"You… you have talent in martial arts. What I mean is… you're gifted at killing people."
"Thanks for the compliment."
"Looking at the bloodlust ingrained in your body, you must've killed many already."
That was true. Even though time had rewound and events had been undone, my memories of them hadn't vanished.
I killed to survive. I killed to avenge the dead. And in the end, I even rushed toward the Heavenly Demon, fully aware I couldn't win. I had essentially killed myself.
The life of a martial artist is a perilous dance on the edge of a blade until the moment they fall. But even by those standards, my life had been extreme.
After all, I experienced the war against the Demonic Cult—a war that hasn't even occurred in this timeline.
I am certain I have witnessed more deaths and killed more people than anyone else in this era.
Dan Muk-sang's eyes, gradually losing focus, continued to fix on me.
"I know what you're trying to say. At your age, to be this broken—it's obvious."
"Broken, you say."
"You exude bloodlust as if it's nothing. You cut down people without hesitation. If that's not broken, then what is? Did you cut them down because you didn't want to die? Because they were your enemies? Or was it for your own glory?"
As he said this, Dan Muk-sang's trembling lips curled into a faint, twisted smile. His voice carried undeniable contempt.
"Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter. In the end, you're just another butcher who draws his sword at the slightest provocation. No different from me. Kuhugh!"
"Don't tell me you're trying to say you're any different?"
"Haha. Of course not. All martial artists and martial arts should disappear. Myself included."
"Dan Muk-sang. I know your story."
The current Dan Muk-sang had only just begun to make a name for himself as a demonic martial artist. But before my regression, he had been one of the top masters of the Demonic Cult.
He was both powerful and infamous, with his deeds widely known.
It was said he lost his wife to the Green Forest Bandits, and when he sought help from the Hwangbo Clan, their young master violated and killed his daughter.
At this point in time, the Hwangbo Clan had covered it up, but before my regression, Dan Muk-sang revealed the truth, leading the destruction of both the Green Forest and the Hwangbo Clan. His vengeance became a tale known to all.
In a way, his revenge was justified. His hatred of all martial artists, regardless of affiliation, was somewhat understandable.
"But so what?"
"What…?"
Was it because I knew of his past? Or because I had denied his convictions so directly? Perhaps it was just a fleeting burst of life before his death.
Dan Muk-sang's dim, unfocused eyes suddenly lit up. His pupils sharpened, glaring at me with a fiery intensity.
"To my eyes, you, me, and every martial artist gathered here are all the same. Fools swinging swords blindly, consumed by grudges."
"I am! I am different! I mastered martial arts to break the chain of vengeance!"
"No. All you did was broaden your target for revenge to the entire martial world. If you truly wanted to break the chain of vengeance, you should've started by letting go of your own."
"Ridiculous! Who in this world would willingly abandon the power they hold in their hands? I had no choice…"
"So you had no choice but to kill every martial artist? How is that any different from drawing your sword at the slightest provocation?"
"...!"
Dan Muk-sang gritted his teeth, glaring at me. However, his gaze lacked the strength it had before.
"Didn't I just tell you? There might've been another way. But since we can't think of it, people like us just draw our swords first."
"I… I…"
"In the end, you see nothing but the sword. You're practically blind. Perhaps that's why you became a martial artist in the first place."
I smirked as I looked into Dan Muk-sang's eyes, where stubbornness had hardened into delusion.
"But there is one difference between us."
Perhaps sensing his impending death, Dan Muk-sang chose to spend his remaining strength listening rather than speaking. His eyes widened as if to hear my words more clearly.
"I won. Even if I'm just a blind butcher like you, seeing nothing but the sword, isn't it better to win than to lose?"
Dan Muk-sang didn't respond.
No, he had already stopped breathing, his eyes wide open. Perhaps he had died before I even finished speaking.
Slowly, I pulled my sword free. With that, Dan Muk-sang's withered body collapsed to the ground as if leaning on my blade was the only thing keeping him upright.
Thud.
I briefly looked at his corpse, sprawled atop the pool of blood he had created, before turning away.
Waiting in the distance was the martial artist who had been silently observing me all this time.
"Thank you for waiting."
"It wouldn't have mattered. I can't beat you alone anyway."
The martial artist, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
Despite their appearance, which resembled a rotting old tree, their voice was surprisingly clear. However, they winced as they spoke, as if even talking caused pain. It was likely another side effect of demonic cultivation.
"Dan Muk-sang's thoughts. I don't agree. But he was a comrade. I didn't want to interrupt his last words."
"Is that so."
With that, the martial artist took their stance once more. I raised my sword toward them.
My entire body was battered from fighting Dan Muk-sang. Blood continued to drip freely, and the demonic energy wreaking havoc inside me made my insides churn.
I'd probably be bedridden for days, unable to move. But I still had enough strength to cut down one more opponent.
"Do you have any last words?"
"Perhaps… you're right. We're all blind fools, consumed by revenge. I wanted to kill the Sama Clan… but…"
"But instead, you targeted me and Tang Sowol, who had nothing to do with them."
"...I'm sorry."
The martial artist apologized briefly. Unlike Dan Muk-sang, who believed all martial artists should die—especially talented ones—this one seemed different.
But a single apology wasn't enough to undo the lines we had already crossed.
Understanding this, the martial artist assumed a combat stance and spoke.
"I am the Ghostwood Witch, Sama Suryun."
"Cheon Hwi-da. No title."
Our belated introductions marked the beginning of the fight.
The demonic energy emanating from the Ghostwood Witch's fist soon spread throughout her entire body.
Shrouding one's entire body with energy—a reckless act. While it made her faster and tougher, it would undoubtedly drain her internal energy dozens of times faster.
Even with the rapid progress of demonic cultivation, such a technique was impossible for someone who hadn't reached the peak level. Unless she was burning her true essence, it was unthinkable.
No matter the outcome, the Ghostwood Witch wouldn't last even half a quarter-hour before dying.
Wasting no time, she kicked off the ground. Her figure resembled a log engulfed in dark flames.
Pabat!
She closed the distance with far greater speed than before. Her energy-laden fist shot toward my heart.
But I had already anticipated her movements through the bloodlust I had scattered in the area.
Dodging wasn't difficult.
Puhong!
Her fist sliced through empty air, releasing a shockwave that swept past my head.
Before the wind could settle, she launched a rising kick aimed at my chin. The intent was so fierce that my jaw tingled even before it landed.
Thanks to that, I managed to tilt my head back in time to avoid it.
Taking advantage of the opening, I swung my sword toward the Ghostwood Witch's neck.
Kkaang!
The blade was deflected with a metallic clang. This time, however, it left no mark.
Her skin, already tough like tree bark, was now reinforced with internal energy. It would've been strange if the blade had left a scratch.
I gripped my sword tightly, absorbing the shock of the rebound, and continued exchanging blows with her.
The Ghostwood Witch, her life burning away like a living torch, swung with all her might. I dodged her strikes or diverted their direction with my blade.
Occasionally, she would switch to clawing techniques or palm strikes, but they lacked finesse and were easy to predict.
Compared to Dan Muk-sang, who had unleashed a deadly ultimate technique, the Ghostwood Witch's attacks were lacking.
Her martial arts focused on defense, as opposed to Dan Muk-sang's extreme offensiveness. But even taking that into account, her skills were insufficient.
Still, she didn't stop. No, she couldn't stop. Once someone starts burning their life away, hesitation no longer exists.
I simply responded, parrying her strikes and swinging my sword in return.
Kang! Kaang! Kang!
I aimed for the same spot on her neck each time. Ordinarily, she would've died dozens of times by now. The only reason she was still alive was her unique demonic cultivation.
How many times had we repeated this stagnant exchange of attacks and counters?
The Ghostwood Witch's demonic energy, which had been burning brightly, began to wane. She must have been running out of internal energy.
Seeing her neck no longer protected by energy, I swung my sword once more.
Kaduk!
The blade was deflected again, but this time a small piece of her hardened skin chipped away.
Even as she sensed her imminent death, the Ghostwood Witch stubbornly kept striking with her fists and feet.
And so, I continued driving my sword into her neck, over and over again.
Kakak! Kaduk! Kwajik!
Finally, after countless strikes, her neck began to crack. The repeated blows had fractured her hardened skin, leaving faint sword marks.
It was like watching a tree slowly fall after repeated axe strikes.
Noticing the cracks, I focused the scattered bloodlust around me into my sword. My internal energy naturally followed.
But even that wasn't enough.
I squeezed out the remaining internal energy from my Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art, sharpening my will like a blade.
This strike would push my limits.
Ssswaeeek!
The sword's movement was no different from before—same force, same trajectory, same speed. But there was one difference.
A faint crimson aura began to rise from the blade.
The Ghostwood Witch's eyes widened slightly as she noticed the sword energy.
And then—
Ssskuk.
Her shocked head flew into the air.
The flames of the living torch were extinguished.