U-myeong, a second-generation disciple of Mount Hua, did not particularly like the name Demonic Cult.
Ever since he came of age, he had heard stories about the Demonic Cult to the point of tedium. How terrifying and strong they were—he had heard it hammered into his ears until he was sick of it.
Whenever he heard those stories, U-myeong had two thoughts.
One was the question: 'Were they really that terrifying and strong?' If they were truly as frighteningly powerful as those who had experienced the Demonic Cult claimed, how could the martial world have endured?
In the end, the reason their strength was packaged like a myth must be to emphasize the greatness of the past generation that had endured them.
But since he had never lived through those times, he couldn't argue against it at all. Therefore, U-myeong had no choice but to think another thought.
'If the Demonic Cult appeared in my generation, I would fight more bravely than the previous generations.'
Then he could show the previous generation, who preached about how brave they were and how gloriously they fought, just how brave and how great he could be.
And now that opportunity has come.
U-myeong gripped his Plum Blossom Sword and stepped forward confidently. The situation where the Demonic Cult of his dreams had appeared before him. Now it was time to prove his courage.
"Demonic Cult…"
What he had first intended to say was 'Demonic Cult bastards, not a single one of you will pass behind me.'
But his thoughts could not flow out of his mouth as words. The moment his eyes met those of the demon rushing toward him, U-myeong froze like a mouse seeing a cat.
Eyes.
They were human eyes like any other.
But those eyes were clearly different from any eyes he had seen before.
U-myeong had lived competing fiercely with his martial brothers at Mount Hua, one of the most prestigious sects, treating his master's teachings as golden rules. Since coming to Mount Hua, he had never lived a single day in comfort and had worked hard accordingly.
But in that intense life, he had never once found someone who looked at him with eyes like those.
Hostility, and malice.
Eyes boiling with hatred, determined to kill the opponent without fail—the moment he saw them, U-myeong realized how comfortable the life he had lived until now had been.
He was overwhelmed by their momentum before even testing skills.
U-myeong opened his mouth to loosen his stiffened body.
"I, I am…"
"Greenhorn!"
But his opponent must have noticed U-myeong's state as well, for he sneered and swung his Ghost Head Saber.
Kaang!
His constant effort had not been in vain—though his confused mind couldn't react, his body sensed the crisis first and moved.
He succeeded in deflecting the Ghost Head Saber flying toward his neck, but anything more was beyond him. Watching the Ghost Head Saber rapidly flying toward him again, U-myeong momentarily saw his life flash before his eyes.
Kaaaang!
"Get a grip!"
Feeling a strong impact on his back, U-myeong snapped to his senses and looked behind him in surprise.
The Blue Sword Master was looking at him with a cold expression. Shame immediately washed over him. The fact that he had been pushed back by the enemy's momentum rather than being defeated by their skill made him unable to bear it.
"Put strength in your lower abdomen and endure."
"Yes!"
The Blue Sword Master narrowed his eyes as he watched the demon walking toward them.
'How frightening.'
Even his chest, which he had believed to be as solid as steel, was trembling. And his arms were trembling even more. From just one exchange of blows, he was realizing that those before him were indeed the demons who had ruthlessly ravaged the world.
"Kraaaak!"
"P-please spare me…"
"Run away! Right now!"
The Blue Sword Master's face darkened beyond measure.
Unlike this place, which had entered a temporary lull as they warily watched each other, screams were endlessly echoing from other areas.
'I believed we had grown stronger…'
He had thought they had gathered sufficient strength by not experiencing war. But there was something they had overlooked—the Demonic Cult had done the same.
Though he didn't know what position these people held within the Demonic Cult, considering that the orthodox sect members gathered at Mount Hua were by no means in low positions within the martial world, the situation could be called the worst.
Klak, klak.
The Ghost Head Saber scraped against the blue stone of the floor, creating an irritating sound. The Blue Sword Master watched with a hardened face as the demon approached him.
"A bit more…"
"…"
"Resist a bit more. If this is all there is, then all the training we've done to face you becomes too meaningless."
"Huh…"
The Blue Sword Master let out a short breath.
"You people used to babble so arrogantly in the past too, but in the end you tucked your tails and ran away."
The demon's eyes twitched.
The Blue Sword Master's words seemed to have touched his reverse scale.
"You will not die easily."
"I won't die."
"Kuk kuk kuk kuk."
The Ghost Head Saber and Plum Blossom Sword collided in midair.
Crack.
A grinding sound rang in their ears.
Though his teeth were twisting as if they might break, Cheong-yeong Master couldn't feel that fact.
What reached his ears were his disciples' screams, and what his eyes saw were his disciples falling while spilling blood.
"Ugh…"
His body trembled with rage.
His reason was flying away due to terrible anger. Cheong-yeong Master ground his teeth crack crack and grasped the Plum Blossom Sword hanging at his waist.
He knew in his head that even if he jumped into this battle line, nothing would particularly change. Among those fighting below, there were countless others far stronger than him. If they couldn't change the tide of battle, there was no way he could.
'What on earth is going on here?'
According to the Plum Blossom Sword Saint's words, these were the Death Squad. One of the military groups the Demonic Cult had possessed in the past, and Cheong-yeong Master had faced them tiringly often.
But the Death Squad he knew had not been strong enough to easily overwhelm those gathered here.
Then he had to think of one of two things. Either the Death Squad had been elevated to a higher organization than the Death Squad they knew in the past, with talents beyond the past gathering, or if not that…
"Has the Demonic Cult become stronger than in the past?"
It was something he absolutely did not want to imagine.
Even the Demonic Cult of the past had nearly driven the martial world to the brink of destruction. If that Demonic Cult had returned stronger than before, how could they possibly stop them?
Cheong-yeong Master briefly closed his eyes and opened them.
For now, blocking this place was important.
"Young Hero Wi!"
Cheong-yeong Master turned his head looking for Wei Yeon-ho, only to stare wide-eyed at the empty spot.
"Wh-where did he go?"
"Kraaaak!"
"Aaaaak!"
Screams could be heard.
The screams coming from all directions—it was obvious without thinking whose they were. Precious lives were being lost. Each one of them was a child who had sweated and shed tears together at this Mount Hua.
Each time a scream rang out, he felt a stabbing pain in his chest like being pierced by a needle. But the Plum Blossom Sword Saint could not move to save them.
"Cough."
When he coughed, bitter blood gushed up from his throat. His insides must be properly damaged.
Blinking his increasingly blurry eyes, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint raised his head to look at the person in front of him.
"Are you alright?"
It wasn't something the person who had made him this way should say. The Plum Blossom Sword Saint smiled, baring his blood-reddened teeth.
"You little brat…"
"Certainly, compared to the Sword Saint, I could be called a little brat. But just because someone's a brat doesn't mean they have to be weaker than an old man, does it? Isn't that right?"
Gwang Mu-ryang looked at the Plum Blossom Sword Saint with a sneer.
Even though Gwang Mu-ryang, who was nothing but a greenhorn compared to him, was openly sneering, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint couldn't get angry. Because Gwang Mu-ryang had sufficient qualifications to sneer at him.
'How can such a thing happen?'
In the past, the Black Lord was a master equal to him. To speak coldly, he was a master half a step above him. But that was twenty years ago. The Black Lord of twenty years ago could not be stronger than him now.
Even if Gwang Mu-ryang possessed skills equal to the Black Lord's, he had confidence he could defeat him easily.
But the result was miserable.
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint, who had the pride of being among the top five swordsmen in the world, was being pathetically overwhelmed by that young demon.
"…Did you practice energy absorption or something?"
Gwang Mu-ryang shook his head.
"That's also a decent method, but wouldn't the internal energy become too impure? You should know as well, Sword Saint, that such methods cannot reach enlightenment."
"That would be so. I'm asking because I can't understand at all."
"You don't need to understand."
Pitch-black demonic energy began pouring out from Gwang Mu-ryang's body in streams.
"With that fossilized head, you couldn't understand anything anyway. Even if you could understand, it's meaningless now. Your death will serve as an excellent firework announcing the Cult's return."
"You bastard!"
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint roared with rage.
His shattered pride was destroying his reason. The Plum Blossom Sword he gripped trembled, then shot up toward the sky.
The wind blew from somewhere.
And in front of that wind, plum blossoms that had bloomed began falling scattered.
Plum Blossoms Falling Like Snow .
Each petal covering the world carried deadly sword energy as it flew toward Gwang Mu-ryang.
Each single petal was vivid enough to look real.
Gwang Mu-ryang clenched his fist as he watched the plum petals rushing toward him.
"Foolish…"
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint's sword was certainly splendid and strong. But within it, the most important thing was lacking.
Killing intent.
The will to absolutely kill the opponent.
Sword strikes without killing intent could not threaten him in the slightest.
His hand, filled with pitch-black demonic energy, spread wide.
Demon Emperor Heaven-Shaking Hand.
The palm energy shooting from his right hand grew larger than a person as it flew toward the Plum Blossom Sword Saint. The falling petals began to lose their momentum before the majesty of the Demon Emperor Heaven-Shaking Hand and started falling powerlessly.
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint's eyes bulged as if they would tear.
Watching his sword energy, which he had cultivated his entire life, crumble without even properly exerting its power was not something that could simply be called shocking.
The earth was crumbling, the sky was crumbling. And the world was crumbling.
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint thrust his sword toward the palm energy flying at him.
At the same time, countless plum blossoms bloomed.
Plum blossom after plum blossom overlapped and overlapped again, creating a wall made of plum blossoms.
Kuuuuuuung!
The wall of plum blossoms and Gwang Mu-ryang's palm collided, creating an explosion that shook heaven and earth.
And… the result of that explosion was clear.
"Ugh…"
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint, buried up to his knees in the ground, trembled with his whole body dyed in blood. Horror, disbelief, and fear wetted his aged face.
"In respect for your sword, I'll send you off without pain. In your next life, live serving the Sacred Fire."
At that moment, just as Gwang Mu-ryang was about to use his hand to cut off the Plum Blossom Sword Saint's breath, a chilling voice reached his ears.
"Forcing one's religion on others is not a good attitude."
Hearing the voice from behind him, Gwang Mu-ryang slowly turned around.
"…Righteous Hero Sword?"
Wei Jeong-han smiled slightly and drew his sword.
"Now then, shall I see just how much the Demonic Cult's martial arts have developed?"