He thought there weren't that many of them.
It was impressive that the Demonic Cult members had infiltrated this far, but because of that, he thought their numbers wouldn't be many.
However, when Wei Yan-ho saw the scattered black figures swarming together and rushing forward like cockroaches, he had no choice but to revise his thinking.
"What the hell are all those Central Plains bastards doing! How could they fail to catch the trail of this many bastards appearing in the heart of the Central Plains! These incompetent fools!"
As the crisis approached, there were no words left to choose, and all caution disappeared.
"You beggar bastard! With so many beggars in the world, what were you doing that you couldn't catch a single Demonic Cult bastard!"
Jang-il, who had been watching from behind and suddenly got cursed out of nowhere, protested as if wronged.
"Do the Demonic Cult bastards have 'Demonic Cult' written on their faces! If those bastards come in disguise, how are we supposed to recognize them!"
"In the legends, they always recognize and report them!"
"…You've heard too many stories. Reality is harsh, man!"
Wei Yan-ho's eyes turned to Wei Jeong-han. At Wei Yan-ho's glare with fierce eyes, Wei Jeong-han quietly turned his head away.
"What's so special about the Demonic Cult? A bunch of manly guys swarming around? Are they being manly by ganging up?"
"…He seems to have changed a bit since then."
"Huh?"
"…I'm sorry."
Wei Jeong-han swallowed his tears.
Why does that damn cult bastard give such orders at times like this, making him lose face? The place he got hit earlier was still throbbing, and now his dignity was being stripped away too—what a completely unhelpful guy.
"Damn it!"
Wei Yan-ho clenched his fists as he watched the Demonic Cult members rushing forward like a swarm of ants.
"Why are you only picking on me!"
"That's what I'm saying."
Wei San-ho stepped down beside him.
"Brother?"
Wei San-ho smiled brightly and thrust his sword forward. Blood was dried around his mouth and his complexion was still deathly pale, but it seemed he had no intention whatsoever of leaving Wei Yan-ho to face this alone.
"Your body's not well, so go to the back."
"I'm good enough to handle those bastards."
"Geez, really stubborn as hell."
"San-ho being stubborn is well known."
"Huh?"
Peng Daoji came to stand beside Wei Yan-ho, spinning his massive greatsword.
"If we can't stop him, we might as well fight together."
"What about you? Are you going to drag people down again?"
Peng Daoji's head, who had been secretly praising himself for looking cool for once, dropped down with a thunk. From the way his shoulders were slightly trembling, it seemed he was holding back sobs.
"Can't you just go over there? I get a bit anxious just looking at you. What kind of trouble are you going to cause this time to kick people into a pit?"
"It's not like that."
"Tsk tsk tsk."
A sulky voice joined in too.
"Stop tormenting the kid. Don't you have anyone around you that you leave in peace?"
"Yes, next beggar."
"Wh-what's wrong with being a beggar!"
"Yes, next beggar."
"Grrr."
When even Jang-il blocked his side, a quiet growling sound came from behind.
"Amitabha."
"You come to the front."
"…Benefactor."
"To the front."
"…Amitabha."
With the reliable shield called Musan placed in front of him, Wei Yan-ho shouted as if he had nothing to fear now!
"Come on, you bastards! Musan of Shaolin is coming! Demonic Cult bastards should be beaten down with Buddhist law! Om mani padme hum!"
"That crazy bastard, really."
Jang-il shook his head.
In this kind of situation, there probably wasn't anyone in the world except Wei Yan-ho who could spout such insane things.
'Well, thanks to him the tension is relieved a bit.'
Being next to Wei Yan-ho, it felt like there was nothing serious to worry about in the world. The Demonic Cult bastards were rushing forward with killing intent, but instead of tension, he had to feel exasperation.
"What are you doing! Monk! First strike wins! You're already dazzling, but if you're going to emit light in front of people, you should do something!"
"Amitabha!"
Something glinted around Musan's eyes as he threw punches while chanting Buddhist prayers. Jang-il thought he was seeing things wrong and looked away from the scene.
'Which one would be more pitiful?'
Would it be more heartbreaking to be told he emits light, or would it be more pitiful to be pushed around by Wei Yan-ho?
Peng Daoji felt that Musan's bald head was particularly shiny today.
Whoooosh!
Shaolin's Supreme Great Power emitted golden radiance.
"It shines in various ways."
The golden light that had been magnificently radiating suddenly flickered and grew faint, then blazed forth powerfully again.
"Amitabha!"
Shaolin's Divine Fist.
The Hundred-Step Divine Fist shot out like lightning.
"Keurk!"
The person rushing from the front couldn't handle the remaining force of the incoming Hundred-Step Divine Fist and was sent flying.
"Come to think of it, this guy is really amazing too. He's incredibly strong for someone so young, right?"
Seeing Wei Yan-ho tilt his head and speak, Jang-il looked up at the sky.
'Musan is a talent that Shaolin has put their heart and soul into raising, you damn bastard!'
Musan was famous as a prodigy—no, a divine monk—from childhood. He was such a promising talent that his master personally taught him the Seventy-Two Ultimate Arts despite objections that he wasn't qualified yet.
"And you're younger than him, you rotten bastard!"
"What's with the sudden 'and'?"
His inner thoughts had come out.
"Grr."
Ignoring their bickering, Wei San-ho and Peng Daoji drew their sword and blade.
Peng Daoji's Five Tigers Severing Gate Blade revealed its fierce momentum.
"Fierce Tiger Emerging from Forest!"
With Peng Daoji's heavy voice, blade energy in the form of tigers burst forth in streams. Behind it, Wei San-ho's sword energy in the form of a dragon followed.
"Spectacular."
As Jang-il nodded and went "Hmm," Wei Yan-ho looked over with a mischievous face.
"Don't you have anything?"
"…I'm an intelligence type."
"So you don't have anything?"
"I'm good at catching dogs…"
"Really completely useless, completely!"
Wei Yan-ho, having left a huge wound in Jang-il's heart, thrust his sword toward the front.
"Come on! Come on! Do you think I'll be scared just because you're rushing in as a mob?"
Actually, he was a bit scared.
"Master said that when dealing with bastards rushing in as a mob!"
Wei Yan-ho tilted his head.
"First run away and reorganize? Beat up just one guy? Take out the leader first? What was it?"
If Baek Mu-han, who would be watching Wei Yan-ho from heaven, had seen this, he would have beaten his chest and cursed.
What's the use of teaching him when his pure and clean brain can't remember anything?
"Ah, forget it!"
As Wei Yan-ho's sword, emitting a terrifying light, was swung, sword energy in the form of light poured out wildly.
"Kill them all! Strip the bones and flesh!"
"…You're the one who seems like a Demonic Cult."
Leaving behind Jang-il's grumbling, Wei Yan-ho leaped into the sky and released sword energy.
"What a monster."
It wasn't even sword energy, but sword force—being able to emit sword force in such streams was proof that his internal power also transcended his age. Wei Yan-ho showed new aspects every time they saw him.
"Let's help too!"
The Poison King and Do-wan leaped around them.
Seeing the Poison King, Wei Yan-ho smiled brightly and said,
"Going to use poison again?"
"N-no."
"Didn't you already use it?"
"I said no!"
"Ah, I'm too anxious to fight. I can't even swing my sword properly worried that poison needles might fly from behind."
"Then I'll fight from the front! Me! How can you not trust people like that!"
"Are you getting angry now?"
"…No."
For the first time in decades, tears welled up in the Poison King's eyes.
'How did I end up in such a state?'
There probably wasn't anyone except Wei Yan-ho in the world who would treat him, whom all under heaven trembled in fear of, like some neighborhood troublemaker. But since his crimes were clear and he was inferior in skill, he had no choice but to accept it.
"Ahhh! You damn bastards!"
The only outlet for his frustration was the Demonic Cult members. The Poison King threw poison pellets wildly and burst into wild laughter seeing the acrid poison smoke rising.
"Uhahahaha! I am the Poison King, you bastards!"
"How unsportsmanlike for a man to use poison."
"…"
The Poison King gazed at the distant sky.
It felt like the protection of his ancestors who had always watched over the Tang Family was leaving him.
"Huhuhu, your achievements have increased greatly, haven't they?"
"Who are you?"
Wei Yan-ho looked at the masked person speaking gently and cocked his head sideways.
"…Not you, him."
"Who are you, mister, to suddenly appear wearing a suspicious mask and act familiar?"
"I'm… Do-wan. I'm Peng Daoji's father, and not long ago you and I…"
"Ah!"
Wei Yan-ho nodded his head slightly.
"But why are you wearing something like that? I thought you were a thief."
'It's because of you, you bastard!'
How do you beat someone so badly that the bruises still haven't healed after all this time!
"Ahem, the wounds haven't healed yet."
"Wounds aren't a flaw for a warrior. Rather, wouldn't hiding those wounds be unmanly?"
Could there be a greater insult to a person of the Peng Family than being called unmanly?
Do-wan felt like having a fit right then and there.
'I must endure!'
Hadn't he already experienced that there was no benefit to be gained from getting into a scuffle with this bastard?
"Father, this way."
Peng Daoji also seemed to guess his feelings and subtly pulled Do-wan away. Pretending to be defeated, Do-wan left Wei Yan-ho's side and let out a low sigh.
'There are Demonic Cult bastards in front of us, but the allies are more hateful—this is just great.'
It was a thought that occurred to many.
"…But that thing, it's really no joke."
"Huh?"
At Jang-il's words, Wei Yan-ho looked forward.
"Hooh?"
The demonic energy emanating from the bodies of the united Demonic Cult members was thickly filling the area around their bodies. The demonic energy rising like heat waves was naturally pressing down on the chests of those watching.
'Strong.'
Wei Yan-ho's face hardened slightly.
'This could be dangerous if we're not careful.'
One by one, they weren't his match. But the united Demonic Cult members were displaying power beyond what their unity should provide.
Even if it was Wei Yan-ho, if he got caught up in that?
"I'd be saying goodbye to the world."
Thinking this way, Wei Yan-ho became troubled.
"Should I run away? It's not like anything will change if I fight desperately here, so wouldn't it be better to just grab the people I know and get out of here for now? No one will appreciate it even if I fight hard, and it's not like rice cakes will appear even if they do appreciate it…"
"…Yan-ho, everyone can hear you."
"Huh? Oh no…"
Do they have to trust and fight with this guy at the center?
Despair appeared on everyone's faces.
"Disciples of Mount Hua, listen!"
"Yes!"
Cheong Yeong-ja on the platform shouted loudly.
"Protect Wei Yan-ho. You must guard him!"
"Yes!"
Seeing the Mount Hua disciples rushing around him at Cheong Yeong-ja's command, Wei Yan-ho's eyes widened.
"Why are those gentlemen acting like that again?"
"Kuk kuk kuk kuk."
Jang-il laughed lowly.
Cheong Yeong-ja, and everyone here knew it. This battle would be won if they protected Wei Yan-ho.
'Heroes appear in troubled times.'
If they lost that hero here, even if everyone else survived, it would be a lost battle. But even if everyone died, if they could just keep Wei Yan-ho alive, they would win.
Jang-il, having steeled his resolve, drew his dog-beating staff from his waist.
"Now, shall we see how wild we can get?"
"Hey, I can't see, so move."
Jang-il's shoulders drooped.
'Is protecting this guy really the right thing to do?'
Jang-il was seriously having doubts.