Chapter 737

“The First Blade Division has returned and reports as ordered.”

At the sound of a firm voice, the Sword Saint, leader of the Martial Alliance, responded without hesitation.

“I see. Did everything go smoothly?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Thirty men had joined the mission—none were lost.

A few bore minor wounds, but nothing severe.

Their flawless execution of the mission proved why they were considered second only to the Sword Emperor in reliability.

“You’ve done well.”

“It was an honor to serve the Alliance.”

The First Blade Leader, Song Jongho, spoke with resolute conviction.

The Sword Saint nodded and began walking, prompting Song Jongho to follow without delay.

“How is the prisoner?”

“He’s been restrained and locked in the inner chamber.”

“Did you manage to extract any information?”

“...”

Song Jongho hesitated briefly before replying.

“He’s unusually tight-lipped. We couldn’t extract any meaningful details. My apologies.”

“Hm.”

The Sword Saint’s sigh was faint but heavy.

It was disappointing, but he did not blame the First Blade Leader.

“Even the Death Echo Sword couldn’t make him speak…?”

Song Jongho, known as the Death Echo Sword, had earned his moniker because anyone who heard his voice usually didn’t leave alive.

Despite the sinister title, Song Jongho was a righteous man who had spent years as a shadow operative for the Martial Alliance.

Once an assassin, now a loyal blade of the righteous sects.

He was the Alliance’s dagger in the dark—silent and lethal.

‘If even the Death Echo Sword failed, the prisoner must be formidable.’

The Sword Saint frowned.

Song Jongho was chosen precisely because of his expertise in extracting information, yet even he had failed.

‘This complicates things.’

There were still methods left, but if none yielded results, the Sword Saint would have few options remaining.

The most troubling option…

‘Calling in the Blade King.’

Torture and information extraction had long been the Tang Clan’s specialty.

But with their recent disgrace and exile, seeking their help wasn’t feasible.

‘Tch.’

The Sword Saint’s brows furrowed deeply.

‘No choice but to find another way.’

Letting the situation spiral further was unacceptable.

As his mind raced, an image flashed before him.

The young man who had crushed the Shaolin prodigy.

The most talked-about figure in Hanam.

‘…So Yeomra.’

The son of the Gu Clan’s hero.

The Sword Saint ground his teeth.

‘Who would have thought he’d even defeat the Divine Dragon?’

He had known Gu Yangcheon was talented.

But he never imagined he’d be strong enough to take down the Divine Dragon.

The reasoning was simple—

‘I faced the Divine Dragon myself.’

Unofficially, the Sword Saint had tested the Divine Dragon in a sparring match.

The boy’s talent had been undeniable—

Overwhelming Qi reserves.

Mastery of Hundred Steps Divine Fist and Golden Fang Ascension.

The Divine Dragon had passed the Sword Saint’s test with flying colors.

He was more than capable of becoming the righteous sects’ future symbol.

Given proper guidance, his rise would only be swifter.

The Martial Arts Festival had been a critical step in that plan.

The idea was to crown the Divine Dragon as the Heavenly Champion, uniting the sects under his banner to stabilize the chaotic martial world.

But then—

‘…So Yeomra shattered everything.’

No one could have predicted such a decisive defeat for the Divine Dragon.

The Sword Saint still recalled the fight vividly.

The suffocating killing intent.

The oppressive aura that felt more demonic than righteous.

The spectators had all thought the same thing—

The Divine Dragon’s resilience was impressive.

Facing such an overwhelming opponent and refusing to fall made him remarkable.

But Gu Yangcheon…

He was something beyond a prodigy.

Beyond a monster.

And that unsettled the Sword Saint deeply.

‘What did you see, Heavenly Vision?’

He thought of Cheonan, the Shaolin abbot who claimed to foresee destiny.

Why had he insisted on pairing the Divine Dragon against Gu Yangcheon?

Had he foreseen this?

Originally, the Divine Dragon was supposed to rise through several matches, ultimately losing to Dao King, not Gu Yangcheon.

‘Damn that Gu brat.’

Yet again, it was someone from the Gu Clan interfering with the Alliance’s plans.

Old memories he’d tried to forget resurfaced.

His expression hardened as he approached the underground prison.

Creeeak—!

The heavy door groaned open, revealing the dimly lit chamber.

“The First Blade Division greets the Lord of the Alliance!”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Everyone inside dropped to one knee.

The Sword Saint gave a brief nod and stepped forward.

There, at the far end—

Chained in iron restraints, a massive man sat slumped against the wall.

The stench of his foul Qi filled the room.

“Hm.”

The Sword Saint slowed his pace as he approached.

The man’s head hung low, his breathing heavy.

He wasn’t dead—

But his limbs had been severed at the tendons.

Curiously, there were no other visible wounds.

Around him lay broken weapons and torture devices—

All shattered.

The Sword Saint reached out.

Clang—!

He picked up a branding iron, still glowing faintly from the heat.

“Seems like you’ve already started.”

The state of the tools suggested intense effort.

Yet—

‘Why is he unscathed?’

The man bore no injuries aside from his tendons.

Perplexed, the Sword Saint glanced at Song Jongho.

The First Blade Leader quickly explained.

“…His skin is unnaturally tough. We’ve tried multiple methods, but none left lasting damage.”

“Even with your techniques?”

“…I’m sorry, my lord.”

Unbelievable.

The Sword Saint grabbed a sword and slashed at the prisoner.

There was no hesitation.

Clang—!!

The blade shattered.

“…What the hell.”

Even without Qi reinforcement, that strike should’ve cut flesh.

Was his skin made of steel?

Skkk—

Before the shock subsided, the prisoner stirred.

“…Heh. That tickled.”

The Sword Saint froze as their eyes met.

A grizzled beard and sunken cheeks suggested days without food, but his eyes…

They glowed—

A piercing violet hue.

“…I was resting comfortably. Did you really have to wake me?”

“...”

The Sword Saint’s brows furrowed as recognition struck him.

‘It’s him.’

The description matched perfectly.

Green-tinged hair. Towering frame.

And wielding a crescent blade.

This was undoubtedly—

‘The one who attacked Wudang.’

The man who massacred elders and turned the area into a bloodbath.

A monster leading the Demonic Cult under Heavenly Demon.

“This is unexpected. Do you know who I am?”

“Ha…”

The man chuckled, his violet eyes gleaming.

“…Of course. Who wouldn’t recognize the decayed root of righteousness?”

Skkk—

Clang—!!

Before the prisoner could finish speaking, a heavy club struck his head with a resounding crash.

“Silence, scum! How dare you let such vile words escape your mouth?”

It was Song Jongho, the First Blade Leader, who delivered the blow. Yet—

“Ha…! That one stung a little.”

The man simply raised his head with a grin, entirely unscathed.

Watching this, the Sword Saint ignored the provocation and spoke again.

“Are you truly the one who invaded Wudang, murdered their elder, and assassinated the branch leader of the Martial Alliance’s Hubei Division?”

“Kehehe…”

The man chuckled, his chains rattling ominously.

The Sword Saint’s face darkened further at the sound.

“Mind your words, Sword Saint.”

“…What did you say?”

“I said, you should speak properly.”

A chilling smirk crept onto the man’s face.

“Yes, I did all those things. But to claim they were innocent? What a hypocritical farce.”

Clink—!

The chains binding the prisoner groaned as his massive body shifted.

Immediately—

Shing—!

The guards surrounding him drew their swords in unison.

“I cleansed this rotten world of its filth. How is that a crime? Sword Saint, you have no right to judge me.”

“What sins did they commit to deserve death?”

“Ha! Are you seriously asking me that? Or are you just pretending not to know? Typical of your so-called righteous sects.”

Tension crackled in the air.

The Sword Saint’s patience was nearing its limit.

Despite the man’s impossibly tough body, he could end this with a single strike of Qi-infused blade energy—

But torture required precision.

And precision left no room for execution.

‘He knows that. That’s why he’s provoking me.’

For someone who looked like a brute, this man was shrewd.

“What is your identity and your purpose?”

“Janitor.”

“…Janitor?”

“Yes. A janitor who cleanses the filth and corruption of your so-called righteous sects. That is who we are and what we do.”

Hahahaha—!

The man’s laughter filled the chamber, suffocating and heavy with malice.

The Sword Saint ignored his theatrics.

The man’s claims were absurd—an impossible delusion.

The righteous sects had endured countless storms, far stronger than this man’s madness.

Not even the legendary Iron-Blooded Martial God had been able to destroy them.

“…I’ve heard there’s someone behind you. Heavenly Demon, is it?”

Twitch.

The man flinched ever so slightly at the name.

The Sword Saint didn’t miss it.

“Does he share your goals?”

“…Someone like me could never comprehend His intentions.”

“Hm.”

The Sword Saint grimaced.

Madness.

That was the only explanation for this man.

But the question lingered—what exactly was the Heavenly Demon?

Despite working with the Beggars’ Sect to contain information leaks, the damage caused by this cult was already spreading.

Even Wudang, one of the Ten Great Sects, had been ravaged.

“How do we find him?”

“…”

The massive prisoner lifted his head, meeting the Sword Saint’s gaze directly.

The two locked eyes, unflinching.

Moments later—

“Wait for him.”

The prisoner’s lips curled into a grotesque smile.

“You won’t need to look for Him. He will come to you.”

“…”

“All you worms need to do is sit still and await the judgment He brings.”

His words rang out like an ominous prophecy, filled with grim certainty.

The Sword Saint regarded the massive prisoner with a cold, measuring gaze before turning away.

There was no point in listening further.

“First Blade Leader.”

“Yes, Lord Alliance Leader.”

“Ensure his life is preserved—for now.”

There were still questions that needed answers, but time was against him.

There were more pressing matters to address.

Step.

The Sword Saint’s footsteps echoed as he exited, accompanied by the harsh clanking of chains.

The sound of torture resumed almost immediately.

Gruesome and unrelenting.

Yet the Sword Saint’s expression betrayed no emotion.

His thoughts were consumed by one name—

“Heavenly Demon.”

‘What are you?’

What purpose could justify such atrocities?

And—

‘You’re coming here?’

Recalling the prisoner’s words, the Sword Saint stroked his beard thoughtfully.

‘Impossible.’

This was Henan—the very heart of the righteous factions.

The headquarters of the Martial Alliance itself.

Not even the blood-soaked demons of history had dared to set foot here.

Could this Heavenly Demon truly do what no other had accomplished?

‘Ridiculous.’

There was no way.

The Sword Saint’s eyes flashed with sharp resolve.

‘Heavenly Demon, whoever you are… it won’t take long.’

He had spent decades carving out his place atop the martial world.

He would not allow anyone to upend it.

The Heavenly Demon would be hunted down—

And annihilated.

******************

Hanan.

Martial Alliance Headquarters Waiting Room.

"Ah-choo!"

I sneezed violently and wiped my nose with my hand.

At the same time, I scratched my ear with my pinky finger.

“Ugh… my nose is so itchy.”

Was someone spouting nonsense somewhere? My nose and ears were itching like crazy.

Was someone talking bad about me? Not that I cared—I’d been cursed at so many times that it hardly mattered anymore.

Sniff.

After sniffing one more time, I looked around.

It was a sight I had grown accustomed to.

I had come into the headquarters once again, just before noon.

The reason?

Simple. After finishing my break following the last martial arts competition, I had returned for the round of sixteen.

The round of sixteen already.

That meant only a handful of contestants remained, and the competition was nearing its end.

"Hmm."

While I sat in one of the chairs provided, sniffing, I carefully rolled my eyes to scan the surroundings.

I had to stifle a laugh at what I saw.

‘Their energy is downright murderous.’

Hostility filled the air.

The fact that we had reached the round of sixteen meant that everyone here had at least reached the stage of Peak Mastery.

The combined aura generated by such people was suffocating.

Everyone seemed preoccupied with keeping an eye on each other.

Whether their eyes were closed, fixed on the ground, or focused on polishing their swords,

Their senses were busy scanning one another, even if their gazes weren’t.

Not a single one of them could be called anything but sly snakes.

Especially—

‘They’re going to give themselves indigestion at this rate. Stop staring already.’

The amount of energy being directed at me was exhausting.

It seemed my duel with the Divine Dragon had left a deep impression.

Click.

Even on my way here, the crowd had been a hassle.

Just days ago, I could walk around without anyone recognizing me, but now, people swarmed toward me as if they had all suddenly learned my face.

I seriously considered whether I should start wearing a mask or using some kind of Qi disguise technique.

‘…So this is the life of a celebrity….’

It was somewhat similar to my previous life, except—

‘Back then, the people staring at me mostly wanted to kill me. This is a little different.’

I was no longer a filthy, despicable demon. Now, I was a rising prodigy.

I guess that was the vibe.

Was that entirely a bad thing? It was hard to say.

Was I… secretly enjoying it?

The thought made me feel oddly pathetic.

Here I was, old enough to know better, and what was I even doing?

The ridiculousness of it all made me want to let off some steam.

Hoo—!

“…!!”

“Ugh!!”

“Urgh…!”

I pulled a small trick on the people who had been probing me with their senses.

I interfered with the flow of their energy and reversed it.

It wouldn’t cause any internal injuries, but the sudden shockwave startled them.

Most of them jerked in surprise, breaking their false calm to look at me.

Only four people didn’t react.

Of those four, one simply suppressed their reaction, and the other three genuinely hadn’t been paying attention to me.

Which meant—aside from those three—everyone else had been watching me.

The energy probes quickly withdrew, replaced by direct stares.

Seeing this, I grinned and spoke.

“Feels better when you just look openly, doesn’t it? Sneaking glances is so pathetic, don’t you think?”

“…”

Maybe my tone was too mocking because the faces of those who had been caught turned sour.

So what?

Who told them to stare so hard?

Feeling a bit more at ease, I leaned back into the chair.

There was still some time before the matches started, so I figured I’d rest a bit.

“You’re as blunt as ever.”

Someone next to me spoke up. It was Yung Pung.

Incidentally, he was one of the few who hadn’t sent any Qi probes my way.

The other two were Peng Woojin and Tang So-yeol, and the one who suppressed his reaction was Dokwang.

“What’s so blunt about it….”

“Haha. Gu Yangcheon, you’re always like this. There’s much to learn from you.”

“…Hmph.”

If Hidden Dragon, Cheol Ji-seon, or Seong Yul had been here, they would’ve immediately told him to quit the nonsense.

Knowing that made me laugh awkwardly.

Yung Pung smiled his usual gentle smile while polishing his sword.

Then, he suddenly looked at me and continued.

“How’s your body holding up?”

“My body? I’m fine.”

“You seemed pretty injured. Are you really okay?”

“Yeah. A bit of spit, and I’ll be good as new.”

The external and internal injuries from my fight with the Divine Dragon…

To be honest, they weren’t completely healed yet.

It would take a bit more time to recover fully, but—

I wasn’t too worried. It wasn’t like any of the remaining matches would be difficult.

At least, that’s what I thought—

“I’m sorry.”

Yung Pung suddenly apologized.

What was he apologizing for?

I looked at him curiously.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’d like to fight you the way you fought the Divine Dragon, but… I don’t think I’ll be able to this time.”

Ah.

Hearing his words, I finally understood what he meant.

The duel with the Divine Dragon.

In that fight, I had wounded myself intentionally to level the playing field.

Yung Pung was thinking about that.

And the reason was—

“I’m not sure if I can even reach you as I am now. All I can do is give it my best in the situation I’ve been given.”

Because my opponent in this round was none other than Yung Pung.

He had been eagerly looking forward to our match, and now we were finally set to face each other.

Chatting like this just before our duel might have seemed odd, but neither of us seemed to mind.

I simply smiled in response to his declaration.

“Yeah. Make sure you give it your all.”

I wanted him to give it everything he had, too.

To fight with everything and make his Plum Blossom Sword strike me.

No—he had to.

‘At the very least—’

So that, even outwardly, you could prove yourself worthy of being called that stubborn old man’s successor.