Chapter 752

Crack—!!

Boom—!!

Explosive energy burst forth.

A force carrying decades of cultivation erupted, forming sword energy that relentlessly battered the barrier.

Boom—! Boom, boom—! Crack—!!

Strikes burst out like explosions.

Countless flashes of light slashed against the barrier, as if determined to tear it apart.

Hiss—!

Yet no matter how fiercely the sword energy raged, the barrier remained intact.

“Damn it—!”

The martial artist, swinging his sword without pause, cursed aloud.

He had already expended more than half of his internal energy, yet there was no sign of progress.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t the only one struggling. He turned to the side, gasping for breath.

‘...Even the Seven Iron Layers Fist can’t break it...!!’

The Plum Blossom Immortal of Mount Hua.

The Sword Saint of Wudang.

And the Sword Emperor of the Martial Alliance.

Not just the greatest names of prestigious sects, but three of the Ten Great Masters of Zhongyuan.

Even with their combined strength, they failed to cut through the barrier.

“What the hell is going on outside?!”

“Hurry up and do something!”

Merchants behind them, pale-faced, urged the martial artists.

It seemed even they understood how abnormal this situation was.

What in the world was happening?

“Hmm...”

The Plum Blossom Immortal, who had been scattering crimson sword energy, frowned and stroked his beard.

He then turned to the Sword Emperor beside him.

“This is no ordinary barrier.”

“...”

Nod.

The Sword Emperor silently agreed.

They had already unleashed their most powerful strikes multiple times. These were no mere techniques—this was power strong enough to overcome even the Three Heavenly Masters.

And yet, the barrier endured without a single crack, its light even growing stronger.

Anyone with sense would realize it by now.

“This must be a formation or a seal.”

“In other words, brute force won’t work. Ubong, do you see anything?”

The Plum Blossom Immortal called out to the old man who had been observing the barrier instead of attacking—Ubong, the Beggar’s Sect Master.

“I see it... I’m looking... but that’s all I’m doing.”

“So you’ve figured out nothing. Useless.”

“...”

Ubong let out a grumbling sigh at the Plum Blossom Immortal’s harsh words.

It was true, but he still felt wronged.

“You damn Taoist... How much do you expect me to know about formations?”

“You stood there staring instead of attacking, so I thought you might have figured something out. Apparently not.”

“I told you—I’m not an expert on this... Ah, right! The Wind Dragon Lord. Where is that old hag?”

Exactly the person for this kind of problem.

The Wind Dragon Lord, Bi Mapa Yeo-seon, was responsible for the formations across the Martial Alliance’s territory.

If she were here, she might be able to help.

The Sword Saint’s face twisted at the question.

“She should arrive soon. The disturbance is too big for her to ignore.”

Even as he answered, the Sword Saint’s eyes scanned the surroundings.

“Aaaaaah—!”

“We need to get out...! Let me out! Move!!”

Beyond the barrier, chaos reigned.

People, panicked and disoriented, were devolving into a frenzied riot.

The grand martial tournament, once hailed as the greatest festival in history, was now in ruins.

The Sword Saint clenched his fist.

Crack.

A harsh sound echoed as his knuckles tightened.

His emotions were boiling over.

‘What the hell is going on?’

Something wasn’t right.

How did this happen?

‘An attack? From where? How?’

Who would be reckless enough to attack Hainan—

Not just any location, but the heart of the Martial Alliance itself?

With all their forces stationed here, no one should even think of attacking now.

And yet—

‘How did they get here?’

What method allowed them to strike so suddenly?

‘The Wind Dragon Lord should have been monitoring the formations.’

Even with so many forces present, precautions had been taken.

Formations and patrols were in place to guard against surprise attacks.

Even if the attackers breached the outer defenses, the formations should have alerted them immediately.

Unless...

‘Did the Wind Dragon Lord betray us?’

It was a plausible suspicion.

The Wind Dragon Lord controlled all formations within the Martial Alliance’s territory.

If she had turned traitor, this disaster would be possible.

There had also been reports that the Wind Dragon Lord’s behavior had been unusual lately.

‘...Is that why she hasn’t shown up?’

Her absence, even in this crisis, raised doubts.

If she truly had betrayed them, her disappearance made sense.

Grit.

The Sword Saint’s eyes burned with emotion.

This mess.

Why did it have to happen now?

Why, when he was the leader?

His emotions surged like a storm.

No matter what, he had to resolve this.

For his own sake, he had to fix this disaster.

Just as he desperately tried to come up with a plan—

“You look just like rats trapped in a jar.”

A voice echoed through the air.

Everyone looked up in unison.

They all turned to the source of the voice.

“How fitting.”

Hiss—

Scarlet lines began to trace through the darkened sky, forming patterns.

Beneath them—

An old man, dressed in black robes, slowly descended.

Despite his age, his body looked balanced and strong. In one hand, he held a heavy mace.

Hovering in midair, he looked down at the group gathered behind the barrier and smirked.

“So? How does it feel to be caged like frogs in a well? I’m curious.”

“...”

Everyone instantly realized—

This old man was the one behind this disaster.

“Wh-who are you?!”

“Do you have any idea who we are?! Let us out—!”

The merchants shouted at the man, their voices rising in anger—only to be silenced as petals shot out and sealed their mouths shut.

It was the Plum Blossom Immortal’s doing.

He judged that provoking the enemy would be dangerous.

After silencing them, he addressed the old man calmly.

“I am Do Hua, the 16th sect leader of Mount Hua.”

“Plum Blossom Immortal. What an honor to meet someone so renowned.”

“You don’t seem familiar. May I ask your name?”

Chuckle...

The old man laughed dryly at Do Hua’s question.

“A name, you say... A name is good... Yes, you should at least know who brought you to this.”

His hoarse voice echoed as he raised his mace.

“I have long since forgotten my name. But I have never forgotten my essence. Allow me to introduce myself as such.”

His eyes burned with resentment and rage.

Looking past the barrier, he declared—

“I am a descendant of the Jegal Clan—the very clan you framed and cast aside!”

The old man’s introduction sent shockwaves through the crowd within the barrier.

“...What!?”

“Je... Jegal...?”

“The Jegal Clan... Could it be—”

The Jegal Clan.

Once a pillar of the orthodox sects, counted among the Five Great Noble Clans.

Yet it had fallen into ruin after being accused of secretly pursuing demonic arts and forbidden powers.

Was this man truly a survivor of the Jegal Clan?

“How does it feel? Knowing those you thought erased have returned, swords drawn at your throats?”

“Framed? What do you mean framed?”

“The Jegal Clan was...”

The Jegal Clan was said to have sought and worshipped the power of the Blood Demon—a force of chaos that once brought calamity.

Was he claiming that this accusation was false?

As confusion spread, the old man sneered.

“Yes, of course. It’s been a long time. A shameful memory for you orthodox hypocrites—so you erased every trace of it, leaving no records behind.”

The old man’s face twisted in disdain.

“But we—the ones cast into hell—remember everything.”

Rumble—!!!

The ground shook violently.

“Even if you’ve forgotten, we haven’t. How could we forget? It was too painful! Too unbearable to erase!!”

His roar was wrapped in qi, making the very air vibrate.

Hwoooosh—!!

Screams echoed—

“Aaahhh!”

“Ughhh—!!”

Even those trapped outside the barrier were being affected.

The old man’s fury was palpable.

The Sword Saint of Wudang stepped forward and spoke.

“And so, this is why you’ve done this?”

The old man turned his burning gaze toward him.

“The Sword Saint. So you’re the so-called leader of this rotting Martial Alliance. The most useless and incompetent leader.”

The scorn in his voice made the Sword Saint’s brow furrow. But now wasn’t the time for anger.

“I don’t know the details of what happened to the Jegal Clan. But if you’re here out of rage for being wronged, I understand. However—does this truly count as justice?”

No matter what sins the Alliance had committed in the past—

Was it right to take revenge against those who had no part in it?

The old man’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Justice? Are you asking me to forgive you?”

The Sword Saint’s words were wasted on him.

“...There are innocent civilians here—people unconnected to what happened back then. If you must take revenge, then—”

“I know.”

The old man cut him off.

“Yes, there are sacrifices in every revolution.”

“...So you’re admitting you’ll harm the innocent too?”

“Hah.”

The Sword Saint’s anger only made the old man laugh.

“How amusing.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Acting as though you’ve ever cared about protecting the innocent.”

“What—”

“Look around.”

The old man gestured widely, pointing beyond the barrier to the chaos outside.

Panicked screams and cries filled the air.

“Get out of the way!! Move!!”

“Run for your lives—!!”

“We’re under attack—!!”

Yet even in the chaos—

“Protect the leader!”

“Break the barrier! We must save the sect leaders—!”

“An attack—! We’re under attack—!”

“Mobilize reinforcements—! Focus on breaking the barrier first!”

The martial artists were scrambling in disarray, their supposed discipline shattered.

The old man’s laughter echoed as he looked down at them.

“This is your so-called justice? Your so-called order?”

“This is the world you built—scrambling and floundering to protect only yourselves.”

“This isn’t revenge.”

The old man fixed his eyes on the Sword Saint and declared,

“This is punishment.”

Rumble—!!!

Thunder rolled in the sky.

The old man raised his hand toward the barrier as if delivering a verdict.

Inside, the martial artists and merchants were filled with shock and fury.

‘Yes.’

The old man’s lips twisted into a grin.

‘That’s it.’

Those faces—

The faces of despair and helplessness.

The very expressions he had worn his entire life.

And now, the people who had put him through it were feeling the same.

‘How does it feel?’

How does it feel to be powerless and afraid?

To taste the despair I’ve endured?

It was exhilarating.

It felt incredible.

‘It’s almost time.’

The catastrophe he had set into motion was nearly complete.

The barrier could not be broken by brute force.

Not unless they had an unimaginable amount of power.

Even with so many masters gathered, they still fell short.

‘Just sit tight in your little cage and watch as hell unfolds.’

Then vanish in the storm I’ve unleashed.

The old man was savoring his victory when—

Wooooom.

“...!”

His body tensed, and he turned sharply.

In that instant—

Boom—!!!

A massive blast of sword energy swept past where he stood.

Kuwaaaaaa—!!!

An explosion tore through the air.

A sudden attack.

Who?!

The old man’s eyes darted toward the source.

“Are you the one behind this attack?”

A deep voice rang out.

A massive man stepped forward, clad in yellow robes.

“I am Hwangbo Yeolwi, Lord of the Hwangbo Clan.”

“...”

What?!

For the first time, the old man faltered.

Not only had this man attacked him, but he was also staring at him directly.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

After all—

‘The spell was cast properly. How…?’

How could that man see him? It didn’t make sense.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

“From this moment on.”

The man spoke with unwavering determination.

“I, Hwangbo Yeolwi of the Fierce Tiger Iron Fist, shall vanquish this evil in the name of justice.”

Hwangbo Yeolwi ended his declaration by leaping forward, charging straight at the old man.

The old man quickly swung his heavy weapon to counter.

Wooooong—!!!!

Qi clashed, releasing a shockwave.

Kuwaaaaa—!!!

“Aaaahhhh!! What is this—!!”

“Save meeee—!!”

While the surrounding people screamed from the impact, the old man, who had deflected the attack, narrowed his eyes.

Was it just his imagination?

The eyes of the man who claimed to be the Hwangbo Clan’s leader—

For a moment, they seemed to glow purple.

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

Boom—!! Thud, thud—!!!

Explosions shook the ceiling, causing debris to fall.

It seemed the plan was already in motion.

Kuwaaa—!!

The blasts were so loud that even at this distance, the noise rang in his ears.

Maybe his earlier order to be as destructive as possible had gone too far.

They seemed to be overdoing it a bit...

‘No, this is fine.’

The chaos was working in their favor, so there was no need to interfere.

He kept walking.

Step.

The air grew darker and heavier as he moved deeper.

The area was deathly silent.

It had already been a quiet place, but now it felt even more deserted.

Or perhaps—

‘The people here were removed.’

There should have been people stationed here.

But it seemed they had been taken out—either voluntarily or by force.

He pondered the possibilities as he approached a door.

“...”

There were several doors in this corridor, but this was the one he needed.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the handle—and tore it off.

Craaack.

The iron door was ripped from its frame.

Thud—!

He stepped inside, his eyes narrowing at the sight before him.

Drip.

Drip…!

The sickening sound of dripping echoed in the room, accompanied by the sharp stench of blood.

Squish.

As he moved forward, his boots splashed in a pool of liquid.

Not water—

The floor was soaked in blood.

And not just that.

Shattered bodies littered the room.

Some had caved-in faces, likely from blunt force trauma.

Others had been torn in half, their torsos and limbs severed.

There were more than ten bodies, mutilated beyond recognition.

He clicked his tongue at the gruesome display.

“They sure went wild.”

His muttered words of disgust were followed by a faint presence ahead.

At the center of the blood-soaked chamber—

Someone knelt on one knee.

Dark green hair.

Wearing a prisoner’s uniform marked for criminals.

Chains bound his arms and legs, but they seemed pitifully insufficient to contain him.

Thud.

His foot bumped into something.

Looking down, he saw a severed head.

It had been torn off by hand.

Wait—he recognized that face.

As he examined it, the voice ahead confirmed his thoughts.

“That is the head of the First Dragon Captain.”

“Ah, right. That bastard.”

Now it clicked.

The mystery was solved, and with it, his curiosity faded.

Stepping over the head, he walked toward the man in chains.

No other thoughts crossed his mind.

“How’s your body?”

“No issues.”

The man rose to his feet as if to prove his point.

Rumble.

He slowly rose to his feet—and his towering height seemed endless.

No matter how many times he was seen, his massive physique never failed to impress.

Scars covered his body. Most bore the marks of time, but a few appeared recent.

They were likely from torture—wounds inflicted not long ago.

“Your tendons look torn. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“They’ve regenerated.”

“Good enough.”

He knew the answer but asked anyway.

Of course, if they hadn’t healed, there was no way he could’ve left this kind of carnage behind.

Accepting the explanation, he pulled out a set of clothes from his robe and tossed them to the man.

Tang Deok caught them and immediately unfolded them.

Rustle—!

Black martial robes.

They were identical to those worn by Pillduma.

Tang Deok grinned wide as soon as he saw them, clearly understanding what they meant.

He didn’t even need to be told to put them on—he slipped into them instantly, visibly thrilled.

It had been years since anyone had seen this man smile. And even now, it looked unsettling.

“There’s a man in yellow waiting outside with your weapon. Go pick it up.”

“Yes.”

“And... Never mind. You’re not in the state to listen anyway.”

Tang Deok’s eyes were already glazed over.

There was no point in saying more—he wouldn’t hear it.

Besides, there was only one thing left to say.

No words of encouragement.

That wasn’t what this man wanted to hear.

“Go raise hell.”

Boom—!!

That was it.

Before the words even finished, Tang Deok rushed past, smashing through the wall.

Crash. Rumble—!!

Distant echoes of destruction followed as he tore through everything in his path.

A faint sigh escaped.

‘…Is this really fine?’

He had given Tang Deok some instructions about what not to do before, but judging by his state, it was doubtful he’d follow them.

As much as he wanted to keep an eye on him—

‘I have my own tasks to handle.’

Splash.

Ignoring Tang Deok, he continued walking.

The place where Tang Deok had been held led to another room.

“There it is.”

The thing he had been searching for.

Or rather—the person.

He crouched and met the gaze of the figure before him.

“...Hrk… Hkk...”

Her arms hung limp, likely broken. Her legs looked no better, tendons torn beyond use.

It was the Wind Dragon Lord, Bi Mapa Yeo-seon.

“Long time no see. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Took me a while to find this place.”

“...Hrk... Hkk...”

She trembled, paralyzed by fear.

Watching her through his mask, he spoke.

“There’s something I need you to do for me.”

And of course—

“You’ll do it, won’t you?”

Refusal was never an option.