Chapter 428 : Why Fight This Desperately

Chapter 428: Why Fight This Desperately?

Between the Drunken Demon’s hands and the Blood Line, it sparked as if strength clashed against strength.

Chiiiiiik.

Since the beginning of the fight, the Blood King was the most surprised.

He hadn't expected the Drunken Demon to grab the Blood Line with bare hands. And that wasn’t all.

Jiiiiiik.

The Drunken Demon grabbed the Blood Line with both hands and tore at it.

“Aaaargh!”

The Drunken Demon screamed in pain. But he didn’t let go of the Blood Line in his grasp.

At the peak of that scream—

Tuk!

The Blood Line, which could slice steel just by touching it, snapped.

As it broke, a short cry burst out from the Blood King’s mouth.

“Urgh!”

Right now, the Blood King had connected the Fragmented Blood Net with his own energy to draw out greater power. It was a move meant to kill the Drunken Demon with a single blow.

But with the Blood Line severed, a huge shock struck the blood vessels that were controlling the energy.

The Blood King gritted his teeth and endured it.

‘No way he’ll tear another one.’

But the completely drunk Drunken Demon saw nothing. He had already forgotten the pain from just moments ago and grabbed the second Blood Line as if it were a laundry rope.

“Aaaaaaah!”

Just as powerfully as his scream of pain.

Duduk!

He tore it again.

“Ugh!”

As the second Blood Line snapped, a louder scream erupted from the Blood King. This time, the shock was even greater, and his blood vessels twisted.

In the end, the Blood King could no longer endure and gave up executing the technique.

Sseuseut.

The Blood Lines that had been drawn all around disappeared.

At that very moment, the Drunken Demon began to charge fiercely at the Blood King.

It wasn’t light footwork for executing martial arts.

The Drunken Demon charged like an enraged bull, drunken madness pouring off him.

Even when sword energy and sword force flew at him, the Blood King hadn’t flinched. But at this moment, he felt fear. The Drunken Demon, who had snapped the Blood Lines barehanded and was charging at him, was terrifying.

‘Not now!’

He had drunk the Blood Calabash and torn apart the Blood Lines. In other words, if he were caught by that crazed state now, he might be ripped apart too.

Still, there was no way that strength could last long.

‘There’s only one way!’

Just as the Drunken Demon, like a bull, raised his fist to strike—

Fwoooosh.

Something spread from the Blood King’s body like wings and engulfed the Drunken Demon.

It was the secret technique of the Ten Thousand Evils Blood Arts, the Binding Blood Veil.

The Drunken Demon struggled inside it.

“Let go! You bastard! If I get out, you’re dead!”

Like a drunken man throwing a tantrum, the Drunken Demon cursed and shouted.

Then, as the inside of the Blood Veil quieted for a moment—

Jiiiiiik.

The Drunken Demon tore the veil and stuck his head out.

“You bastard, you're dead!”

The Blood King launched his internal force toward the Drunken Demon without hesitation.

Swaeaeaeek.

Puhk!

Struck by the Blood King's palm, the Drunken Demon was flung away, his head still protruding from the Blood Veil.

The Blood Veil rolled across the ground. For a moment, it seemed he might be dead since he didn’t move at all—but then, the Drunken Demon began to crawl out of the veil like a worm.

Leaping into the air, the Blood King fired bursts of blood energy in rapid succession.

Boom! Kwaaang! Boom boomdddddd!

The earth flipped and dust surged up. He poured his blood energy into the area, determined to obliterate everything there.

Once the storm of attacks ceased, and the rising dust began to settle—

Harsh breathing could be heard from within.

As the dust cleared, the Drunken Demon stood amidst craters in the ground. Somehow, he had escaped from the Blood Veil and withstood the deluge of blood energy.

Even so, a smile formed at the edge of the Blood King’s lips. The plan had succeeded. When the Drunken Demon snapped the Blood Lines earlier, the liquor energy around his body had been black, but now it had returned to a violet hue.

The effect of the final technique of the Wine God Arts—Wine God's Drunken Frenzy—had vanished.

That final technique required immense internal energy, so it was never used unless one faced certain death.

Panting, the Drunken Demon spotted an unbroken bottle among those rolling at his feet and walked toward it.

Shards of broken bottles pierced his soles, drawing blood, but the Drunken Demon didn’t care.

This was also the reason the Blood King didn’t recklessly charge in. The Drunken Demon was still in a drunken state, still wrapped in madness. He lifted the bottle and chugged more liquor.

He had placed dozens of bottles here from the beginning and drank through them. Even while facing the warriors of the Northern Blood Gate, he had managed to protect the bottles amidst the rain of sword energy. But now, most had been drunk or shattered, and only a few remained.

When the Blood King first heard that the Drunken Demon had arrived with the Demonic Cult’s Young Cult Leader, he had harbored some contempt. That was because, among the Eight Demon Supremes, the Drunken Demon was considered the easiest opponent.

But now, he couldn’t confidently say the Drunken Demon was inferior to any of the others.

And most crucially, their martial arts were ill-matched.

Typically, the overwhelming stench of blood released from blood energy would crush an opponent. But the Drunken Demon’s scent of liquor completely drowned out that blood stench.

Their temperaments were equally mismatched.

There was no resonance between him and the Drunken Demon. The dread his blood arts usually evoked—this drunken lunatic was immune to it.

That must be why things had turned out this way.

“You wanna drink too?”

So drunk that his tongue slurred, the Drunken Demon mumbled. He was clearly drunk enough to collapse at any moment, yet his eyes were startlingly clear.

At the Drunken Demon’s words, the Blood King shook his head.

Drink? Right now, he felt like killing anyone who dared to drink in front of him. Alcohol? He didn’t even want to smell it.

Blood was dripping from the Drunken Demon’s palms. It was from the wounds he sustained earlier, when he tore through the Blood Line and the Blood Veil. No matter how drunk he was, he had to be feeling the pain. His soles, his arms, and his sides were soaked in blood.

“Why are you fighting this desperately?”

Because if I don’t win, the Young Cult Leader will have to fight. Because I want to end this cursed bastard with my own hands.

Relationships between people aren’t something you just understand. You only realize things when everything explodes like this. Like how much I actually care for someone.

How much do I care about Geom Mugeuk?

Even if the Self-Destruction Art explodes—let it explode in me!

That’s how I felt. Besides, the Supreme Heavenly Silk was already wrapped around me.

“Is it because of the Young Cult Leader? What on earth did the Young Cult Leader do for you?”

The Drunken Demon, reeking of alcohol, began to walk forward unsteadily.

“That’s what I’m saying. He only shows up for me at the very end.”

His staggering wasn’t just from drunkenness. He was utterly exhausted, and his internal energy was nearly depleted.

Watching the Drunken Demon walk toward him, the Blood King, for the first time in his life, felt the possibility that he might lose to someone.

That fear led the Blood King into rage.

‘I’ll kill him.’

This drunken bastard—I’ll kill him with my own hands! I’ll beat him to death with my fists. I want to see what kind of expression your Young Cult Leader makes when I do.

From the Blood King’s eyes, a murderous wave of blood energy surged out.

Their fight was a battle of blood and alcohol.

Their fight resembled that raw, primal stench. It was more emotional than logical. Curses came before words. The outcome—killing—preceded the reason for killing. That’s just how battles between blood and alcohol seemed destined to be.

The two of them poured what little internal energy they had left into their fists. Neither of them was a fist martial artist, but they fought with their fists like one.

Puhk!

The Blood King’s fist landed squarely on the Drunken Demon’s chest. Even with that heavy blow, the Drunken Demon didn’t retreat. Whether he was enduring the pain or too drunk to feel it—he didn’t avoid it and swung his own fists.

The Drunken Demon’s first punch missed, but the second slammed straight into the Blood King’s face.

The Blood King staggered, his jaw twisting. It was a clean hit, but he didn’t fall.

He dodged the next punch flying at him and counterattacked. Their fists tangled as they crossed, and one landed on the Drunken Demon’s shoulder.

They hit well and dodged well. It might have looked like wild brawling, but this was a Demon Supreme and the Blood King. Their furious exchange of fists continued, full of violent energy.

Thud!

The Drunken Demon staggered.

Just as the Blood King lunged in, unwilling to miss the opportunity—

Ppaak!

The Drunken Demon’s headbutt exploded against the Blood King’s face.

It was an attack so unexpected it defied belief. A headbutt? The Blood King was too stunned—furious, even.

Pook!

At the same time, the sound of flesh tearing was heard.

The Blood King, rubbing his nose and stepping back, saw it—he saw the Drunken Demon staggering far backward.

‘Why?’

Just now, when the headbutt landed, that should have been the moment to press the attack.

It was then that the Blood King caught the scent of unfamiliar blood.

Slowly, the Blood King looked down at his own chest.

The area around his heart was soaked in blood. He could feel something hot flow down from his chest to his abdomen.

The Blood King’s eyes widened.

‘When?’

At the exact moment of the headbutt, the Drunken Demon had struck like lightning with a dagger, piercing his heart.

From the start, the Drunken Demon had aimed for that one single move. Though he had been dead drunk, it had been his kind of drunkenness. The Drunken Demon hadn't charged like a bull toward the Blood King—but toward this very outcome.

Only then did the Blood King see the dagger in the Drunken Demon’s hand. It had been driven so deep, the entire blade was soaked in blood.

“I told you before, didn’t I? That a drunkard’s fight is always this dirty.”

Until now, he’d looked unfazed, but as soon as the Blood King saw the dagger, his legs gave out and he collapsed.

He hurried to press his blood points to stop the bleeding, but the wound was to his heart. Sealing the surface wasn’t going to be enough.

‘I’m dying like this? At the hands of this drunk bastard?’

But today, at least in this place, liquor had overpowered blood.

The Drunken Demon stood at a distance. Even though the fatal blow had landed—or rather, because it had—he remained cautious.

He didn’t know when the Self-Destruction Art might activate.

From afar, their eyes met. The Drunken Demon stared quietly into the Blood King's eyes—and instinctively felt one thing.

“You’re not…”

He asked with an expression of disbelief.

“You didn’t learn the Self-Destruction Art?”

Just like how you come to know your opponent better after a fight, he had a hunch—and now, from the Blood King’s expression, he knew. The Blood King had truly never learned the Self-Destruction Art.

He didn’t want his end to be a grand, shattering explosion.

“You… no matter what, this isn’t right. Maybe anyone else, but you—you should’ve ended in a brilliant, massive explosion, shouldn’t you?”

You did that to your subordinates, blowing them up with the Self-Destruction Art.

“Before we fought, I asked you, didn’t I? Why you didn’t want the Young Cult Leader to fight you.”

With a cold gaze, the Drunken Demon added—

“This is why. You and I… we’re both just too…”

The Drunken Demon slowly began to walk forward. The Blood King clenched his teeth and drew up his internal energy.

He hadn’t learned the Self-Destruction Art, but the Blood King still had one last move to kill the Drunken Demon.

Blood Poison Butterfly.

If he used the Blood Poison Butterfly, half of his innate qi would vanish permanently. That’s why he never used it lightly. But if he was going to die anyway, he could take the bastard with him.

‘Just a little closer. Just a bit more.’

As the Drunken Demon approached, he suddenly stepped backward and retreated.

“Why would I trust a guy like you?”

When drunk, the Drunken Demon had an even sharper sense for the scent of death.

He picked up the broken stone lantern that lay on the ground. It was the same lantern he had thrown earlier during their fight—it had split in two then.

Realizing what the Drunken Demon was trying to do, the Blood King shouted desperately.

“No! Kill me like a true martial artist!”

“Nope. This suits you perfectly!”

Shuuuuuk!

The stone lantern, carrying the last of the Drunken Demon’s remaining internal energy, flew toward him.

Kwoong!

The lantern smashed down on his face and upper body.

Blood flowed from under the lantern. The Blood King's corpse bled far more than any normal man’s would.

The Drunken Demon staggered over, sat leaning against the stone lantern, and drank.

The life-risking fight was finally over.

The blood spilling out beneath him soaked into his backside. The Drunken Demon quietly stared down at the flowing blood. His own face reflected in the crimson pool.

Fweeeeeeeeek.

Bang!

Two people fell from the sky.

The one who had slammed his opponent into the ground like a sack was Geom Mugeuk.

The man who had died with the cracked earth beneath him was the very chef who had killed the innkeeper earlier. Summoned here by the Blood King, he had died without ever even laying eyes on his master.

The Drunken Demon’s gaze met Geom Mugeuk’s in the air. There were so many things he wanted to say, but what came out of his mouth was—

“You’re late again.”

That single line sent a surge of emotion through Geom Mugeuk’s chest. He would never know just how long he had longed to hear those words again.

Geom Mugeuk walked over to the Drunken Demon and sat down beside him. The Drunken Demon silently handed him the remaining liquor.

After downing it in one go, Geom Mugeuk passed it back and said—

“I actually got here earlier.”

Beyond the shattered wall, corpses were strewn across the ground. Just like the chef who died last, they were the subordinates summoned by the Blood King.

“There were a lot of them.”

They had kept arriving while the two fought—and Geom Mugeuk had taken care of each one the moment they showed up.

The Drunken Demon understood. If even one or two of them had intervened during that tense fight, he would have been dead.

Staring intently at the Drunken Demon, Geom Mugeuk said—

“You were incredible, brother.”

A smile crept across the Drunken Demon’s lips—one he couldn’t hide.

As the scent of the Blood King’s rising blood filled the air, the Drunken Demon finally gave the answer he hadn’t said earlier.

Why did I fight this desperately for the Young Cult Leader?

Just to hear that one line.

You were incredible, brother.

The Drunken Demon grimaced as he lifted the liquor bottle.

“Ugh, now that the tension’s gone, it hurts like hell. I’m gonna lie down for a bit. Feels like I got beaten all over. Wait—I did get beaten to death, didn’t I? Aaaargh. I’m seriously going to die from trying to look cool.”

Groaning with more drama than needed—but not really—he lay down. The ground was soaked in blood, but he didn’t care.

“You should’ve come save me first.”

Geom Mugeuk knew it wasn’t what he really meant. The Drunken Demon had truly wanted to kill the Blood King himself.

The Blood King's subordinates were part of it, sure, but there was another reason Geom Mugeuk had delayed joining the fight.

He’d feared another one of the Twelve Zodiac Kings might intervene.

During his last battle with the Battle King, someone had rescued the man at the very end. That could have easily happened again this time. Someone could have jumped in.

So Geom Mugeuk stayed outside, guarding thoroughly against any intrusion. Even while fending off the Blood King's subordinates, he kept scanning—watching to see if anyone was approaching.

Was that why? Or was it something else?

This time, no one showed up.

Yes—just as things had changed drastically on their side, the same must be true for their enemies. Those who should’ve stayed alive were dying off. And those who sought to gain were left with nothing.

Drrrng.

At the sound of snoring, Geom Mugeuk looked over—The Drunken Demon had fallen asleep. Having exhausted both his internal energy and spirit, he was utterly depleted.

Geom Mugeuk reached toward the blood-soaked ground, intending to help him up—then stopped.

The expression on the sleeping Drunken Demon’s face was far too peaceful. He wasn’t lying in a pool of blood.

He looked just like he had that time—after drinking, when he leapt into the lake in front of the Tower of Drunken Dreams. That same relaxed face, lying in the water, gazing up at the stars in the night sky. The blood soaking his back must’ve felt like that lake, as he recalled that moment.

Geom Mugeuk quietly closed his eyes as well. Remembering that night sky they once stared at together from the lake, he finished the remaining liquor.

“Tastes good.”