Crisis At The Mountain Sword Sect (3)

But after one last glance at the retreating allies, Seol Pung turned his eyes back to the warriors surging toward him like a tidal wave.

Retreating would have been the sensible choice, but he didn’t want to.

Suddenly, Je Wonyeong, who had been withdrawing, called to him with a startled face.

“Captain Seol Pung?!”

He hadn’t told Je Wonyeong, but the operation hadn’t actually failed yet.

Because Sag Muhun was mixed in among the oncoming enemies.

From the start, Hae Cheong-yeon hadn’t expected the three top masters to be taken down cleanly by their trio alone.

So, though he couldn’t tell Je Wonyeong—who didn’t know Sag Muhun’s true identity—the original plan had been for the hidden Sag Muhun to assassinate the remaining targets.

But that wasn’t the only reason Seol Pung chose not to flee.

As he watched the oncoming tide of warriors, memories from the past surfaced.

Warriors closing in from every direction; the house filled with blood and flame; his mother, wounded, clutching him as she fled; his maternal grandfather, blood-soaked, struggling to hold them off.

Memories he had never wanted to recall.

Seol Pung’s first reason for coming to the front lines hadn’t been vengeance or chivalry, unlike the others.

“I just… wanted to run away.”

That was the truth.

Seol Pung had wanted to run.

From his grandfather’s dying wish for revenge—and from the bloodline his grandfather himself had never known.

He suddenly remembered the counsel of Cheong-yeon’s father, the Sword Saint of Heavenly Righteousness, Hae Unbaek.

“You’ve prepared everything needed to step to the next stage. The wall you can’t cross isn’t of the body, but of the heart. I don’t know your circumstances, but examine your inner self more calmly. You’ll find the thread to pull.”

Hae Unbaek had seen him exactly.

Though Seol Pung had always driven himself like a madman in training, a part of him had feared his own growth in martial skill.

Because he knew what he would have to do once his skill rose high enough.

The burden—and the fear—were too great.

So he had wanted to live only as Seol Pung, Captain of the Seventh Squad of the Flying Dragon Thirteenth Unit—if such a thing were possible.

“But…”

He also knew this:

If he kept failing to break the wall and stood still, he wouldn’t be able to remain even as the Seventh Squad’s captain.

Though this was the place he had fled to, he would one day lose all the things that had become so precious to him.

So it was time to choose.

Stay here to keep running from fate—or move forward to protect what mattered.

And as a martial man, the answer had been decided from the start.

With eyes more solemn than ever, Seol Pung stared at the oncoming wave of warriors.

Then, as if making a declaration, he whispered,

“I… will run no longer.”

In the next moment, the Righteous Guild’s wave of warriors swallowed him whole.

“Yaaaaaah!”

“Die!”

“Haaah!”

As weapons rained down from all directions, Seol Pung first guided aside the flat of a saber that was about to split his skull.

The saber strike glanced off on a diagonal; the attacker’s upper body pitched forward out of balance, and Seol Pung gave him a light push.

“Uh—?!”

An instant later, before he even knew it, the man’s body flew into his own comrades—and was shredded by the weapons they had been swinging down.

Thwack!

“Gyaaaah!”

The warriors who had just, unknowingly, impaled their fellow froze—and at that moment, another ax-wielding man suddenly flew into his comrades as well.

He too ended up blocking their weapons with his body.

Thwack!

“Guhk!”

It was a bizarre sight.

The men who had charged Seol Pung were suddenly butchering one another, with no idea how it had happened.

And this was only the beginning.

Around Seol Pung, warriors were flung into their own ranks again and again, as if swept up by an irresistible current.

It was like being caught in a dragon-wind vortex.

This stood in stark contrast to Seol Pung’s usual style—slaughtering foes with the dynamic ferocity of a hunting beast.

The rest of Hae Unbaek’s advice rose in Seol Pung’s mind.

“Your art is overly biased toward movement. That isn’t bad—but movement without stillness can scatter. If you grasp the subtlety of stillness within motion, you won’t only break the wall before you; the next stage won’t be impossible either.”

Seol Pung’s feet didn’t move, as if rooted in the earth, while the warriors rushing at him were flung away in all directions, as though swept up by a dragon-wind vortex.

And that vortex grew stronger with each passing breath.

“W-what… madness!”

Naeng Gu-eon, directing ordinary warriors from the rear, gnashed his teeth as Seol Pung’s power kept mounting.

He would have to intervene personally.

If I throw hidden weapons from range, it shouldn’t be that dangerous…

Though Seol Pung intimidated him, the fact that the man’s feet weren’t moving gave Naeng Gu-eon confidence as he crept closer, carefully taking aim.

Seol Pung seemed lost in a trance, eyes closed, generating a vortex of men around him.

Aiming the stolen hidden weapons at Seol Pung, Naeng Gu-eon focused his inner power.

“You cur… Die!”

Whsssh-whssh!

Four darts, packed with his full strength, shot toward Seol Pung.

They were as swift as bolts of light—beyond the perception of most warriors.

Seol Pung’s eyes remained closed; he hadn’t noticed—so it seemed.

Grinning in triumph, Naeng Gu-eon watched the darts strike home.

But the very next instant, he realized—with horror—that the darts were streaking back toward him.

Whsssh-whssh!

“?!”

He had no idea what had happened.

But there was no time to wonder—he had to move, or die impaled by his own weapons.

“Tch!”

He sprang—only to feel a sharp sting in his lower body.

“Urk?!”

A brief prick—and then his legs gave out.

He couldn’t leap.

“W-what?!”

Panicking, he raised his arms to block—

Only to realize his arms wouldn’t move either.

“U…uwaaah?!”

That terrified cry was the last sound he ever made.

The four darts punched through his chest and throat.

Thwock!

“Guhk!”

The nearby warriors screamed in shock.

“Elder Naeng!”

“E-Elder Naeng is dead!”

“A-All three top masters are dead?!”

As confusion spread through the Righteous Guild ranks, Sag Muhun—who had ambushed Naeng Gu-eon from hiding—slipped back into the sea of enemies.

Then he looked to Seol Pung, who, face serene in trance, was shaping men into a human dragon-wind vortex.

Seol Pung had always been formidable, but today he seemed on a different plane.

Like one of the absolute lords of the martial world.

Diancang Mountain in Yunnan Province.

Once the main seat of the Diancang Sect—one of the former Nine Great Sects—it now served as the Blood Demon Cult’s headquarters.

There, the cult’s current leader and “hero,” the Blood Demon Jeon Mugwang, sat at ease alone in the Diancang Sect Leader’s study, reading a letter sent by Zhuge Jigang.

After finishing, he smiled like a refined scholar and said softly,

“So—the Righteous Chivalry Guild has finally been exposed.”

A voice answered from the empty air.

“They held out longer than expected, Supreme One.”

The Blood Demon chuckled.

“So, the seeds have been sown well enough?”

“More than enough, Supreme One.”

“Good. Then let’s tidy up. Take Cheok Gang and Sa Yu, and go.”

There was a pause; when the voice returned, it sounded a little flustered.

“Your servant alone would suffice, Supreme One. Especially… taking Cheok Gang—that mad boar—along…”

At his subordinate’s troubled tone, the Blood Demon burst into hearty laughter.

“Ho-ho-ho-ho! Gi Eum, so even you find Cheok Gang troublesome. I’m sending the three of you not for that matter, but because of the Sword Saint.”

“…The Sword Saint, Supreme One?”

“Yes. Zhuge Jigang seems to want the Sword Saint of Heavenly Righteousness removed. He means to dispatch him toward the guild. Well? Can you handle the Sword Saint alone?”

The voice didn’t dare say yes.

The Sword Saint might not be the equal of the Blood Demon whom he served, but he was still a realm above the speaker.

Smiling again, the Blood Demon said,

“Besides, this must be handled publicly, in full view of the orthodox sects—so Zhuge Jigang can’t quibble later. In truth, Cheok Gang is better suited for that. You’re going to keep him from crossing the line.”

Sounding somewhat deflated now, the voice replied,

“As you command. It shall be as the Supreme One wills.”

Moments later, the subordinate’s presence faded back into the shadows. Sitting quietly again, the Blood Demon sighed.

He had heard familiar footsteps approaching from afar.

They were his daughter Jeon Huigeum’s—his only remaining family, the precious child whose plight had driven him into the Blood Cult, and whom he had finally regained.

Yet despite her approach, his face wasn’t bright.

He knew why she had come.

He waited, then used formless qi to open the door as she reached it.

A woman entered—one who looked no more than thirty.

A beauty who must have been even more stunning in youth; yet her eyes shimmered with tears as she looked at him.

With a warm smile, he said,

“Come in, Huigeum.”

But despite his warmth, Jeon Huigeum asked bluntly, eyes still brimming,

“Father, still no word from Yugyeom?”

He finally sighed.

“It’s confirmed he left the Flying Dragon Unit—so he’s likely on his way. He may need time to settle his heart. The truth about Diancang and about you must have been a shock.”

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

“Father, if anything happens to Yugyeom… I don’t think I can live.”

The Blood Demon frowned slightly.

“Come now! He’s already beyond the peak stage. To you he’s still a child, but he’s a full-fledged top master—what could happen to him? Good news will come soon. Compose yourself. You can’t greet him again looking so haggard, can you?”

At his gentle chiding, she wiped her tears.

Forcing a smile, she said,

“You’re right. If I want to show him my best when we meet again, I can’t be like this. I’ll focus on training.”

But as she turned to go, she paused and asked,

“Can I… trust you, Father?”

To the only person he truly loved, he answered with an inward sigh,

“Trust me. I will never deceive you again.”

With that, Jeon Huigeum left the study.

Once she was gone, rare anger colored the Blood Demon’s face.

So—because he bore the Ma Clan’s blood, he’s trouble from start to finish.

Though Ma Yugyeom was his grandson, the Blood Demon—hating the Ma Clan—had never intended to acknowledge him as kin.

So when he had first found his daughter again, he had told her Yugyeom was already dead.

She had suffered for a long time; only after years did she regain her strength.

Recently she had begun helping him in various ways—and permitting that had been his mistake.

While searching for information on her “dead” son, she had discovered he was alive and well.

The trust they had built as father and daughter collapsed in an instant.

Thus, he had hurriedly changed a planned meeting with the Martial Alliance Leader to one with the Flying Dragon Thirteenth Unit.

It was all arranged to bring that brat of the Ma Clan here…

Everything afterward had gone as he designed.

He had planted Suggestion Arts in Ma Yugyeom; Yugyeom had learned Blood Cult arts and been forced to leave the Flying Dragon Unit—exactly as arranged.

But then—something unforeseen happened.

Despite accepting all the arrangements, Ma Yugyeom hadn’t come to the Blood Cult.

Worse, once he left the unit, his whereabouts became untraceable—a result even the Blood Demon, renowned as a serpent of wisdom, had not anticipated.

He regretted it.

He should have simply abducted him.

No—killed him before Jeon Huigeum ever learned.

But now he understood well:

Unless Yugyeom was found and brought back, his relationship with his daughter would never be restored.

Given his history of deception, if Yugyeom vanished completely, she would inevitably conclude that he had killed the boy.

The Blood Demon stepped outside and looked at a great old tree.

In an instant, the tree burst into flame, as if exploding.

Whooooosh!

Within a single breath, it was reduced to powder.

All from one furious glance of the Blood Demon.