Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Huff. Huff.”

As his breath rose all the way to his throat, his brain strangely began to ache as if it were being cooked. Even his internal organs felt jumbled and severely damaged, making it difficult just to breathe.

Each time he inhaled, it felt as though shards of bone were repeatedly stabbing into his organs, like a tiger tearing into its own abdomen.

Even so, Youngho stood there calmly, as if nothing were wrong.

Both wrists were half-severed and hanging limply, and his chest was caved in deeply, as though someone had struck it with tremendous force.

The fingers gripping the sword had burst open as well, exposing stark white bone.

Despite his bones being ground down and his organs no longer intact, Youngho endured the pain with superhuman mental strength.

Without realizing it, he looked around his surroundings.

“It’s brutal.”

Around him stood dozens of mountains formed entirely of corpses. Yet, in truth, it was not all that surprising.

After all, even the place where he was standing was atop corpses.

As if dozens of wars had taken place, an enormous number of bodies lay scattered around Youngho—enough to completely cover Mount Songshan of Shaolin.

Not a single one of the tens of thousands of corpses remained intact.

Some bodies had their arms and legs severed, while others had their heads blown apart.

The blood flowing from them was not only soaking the land but was running like a river.

Rather than fear or revulsion, Youngho felt pity toward them.

It was an emotion unbefitting of him.

That the Foremost Master of the Unorthodox Faction would feel pity over mere corpses.

But what if one of those corpses belonged to the Leader of the Murim Alliance?

No matter how enlightened a person might be, upon seeing the corpse of a leader whose martial might ranked among the very top in the world, they would react in some way.

Unfortunately, the only one here capable of such a reaction was Youngho himself.

“So you were human after all. To die so vainly like this.”

The corpse of Namgung Cheon, his chest torn open along with his heart, was more than enough to draw a bitter smile to Youngho’s lips.

Nearby, the bodies of the heads of the Five Great Families, as well as those of the Nine Sects and One Gang, other great sects, and the leaders of various mid-sized and small sects, all came into Youngho’s view.

Everyone was dead.

Who was supposed to bear the weight of all this blood?

The one who survived until the very end?

Yes—only the one who survived to the end would truly understand the value of this vast, countless sea of blood.

Though the Orthodox Sect and the Unorthodox Faction had long opposed each other along ideological lines, within the enormous framework called Murim they existed in a relationship of mutual coexistence, making it impossible not to be aware of one another.

Among them were even those who, through special ties, maintained close relations with the Orthodox Sect.

Youngho was one such person.

“Namgung Cheon, you pushed yourself too hard.”

Ending that brief moment of turmoil, Youngho looked at the corpse of Murim Alliance Leader Namgung Cheon with eyes devoid of any emotion.

He had no interest in befriending the dead.

What he wanted was Namgung Cheon alive, as a dear friend.

Right in front of Youngho lay the corpse of a disciple he had once praised as the most beautiful in the world.

Had this fellow cherished his own life, Youngho himself would have become just another corpse scattered among the countless bodies here.

Thinking of the disciple who had given up his life in his stead, even Youngho—whose emotions had long since worn away—could not stop the tears from flowing.

Beside that, he saw his chief aide who had worked tirelessly with him, then the strategist, and then the hall masters of the Unorthodox Alliance.

Everyone here was dead.

Youngho had never set his heart upon the Dao, nor upon the Law.

Yet, absurdly enough, Youngho—known as the Lord of the Unorthodox Alliance—suddenly found himself thinking this.

What if he had been just a little more amicable toward the Orthodox Sect? Would the chain of command have been established a bit more solidly?

It was not that he wanted to save others. It was merely a desire to protect the people important to him.

Yes…… that was all.

Blood flowed.

The stench of blood seeped into his clothes.

The thick scent of gore stabbed at his nose.

He saw the ground dyed red by blood.

He even came to realize that people could be slaughtered with such cruelty.

At that moment, as if something deeply displeased him, Youngho twisted his expression like a demon.

It was unpleasant.

He, the Lord of the Unorthodox Alliance, found the smell of blood repulsive. He was irritated that the corpses were so thoroughly ruined.

Nothing pleased him.

All of it—this world itself—he hated.

Why did peace not exist in this world?

It was utterly ridiculous.

Betrayal, schemes, secret struggles—he, the Lord of the Unorthodox Alliance, who had committed every despicable act imaginable…….

That he, the master of this place—no, setting aside such a position, that Youngho as a human being would desire peace…….

It seemed that the time to truly die had come.

It felt as though he alone had been left behind in the world.

‘Hahahat! Work! There’s work coming in! Lord!’

The sight of Nam Do-cheon, the chief aide, driven mad by the overflowing workload, bursting into manic laughter with bloodshot eyes, had been amusing.

‘That’s not a strategy! You crazy bastard!’

When devising strategies, he missed the sight of the strategist Myeongnyang, who would always beg him not to do something so recklessly dangerous whenever he saw Youngho charging in like a fool, and who would always adjust the plan to fit him.

He also remembered the time he had picked up his disciple Yoon Seojeong, who had collapsed from the cold as a child.

He clearly recalled how boldly the boy had been sleeping right outside the buildings of the Unorthodox Alliance, sparking his interest enough to bring him in.

Like a revolving lantern, all his memories—no, the memories of those who had been with him—began to surface one after another.

Yes, these were memories.

Memories he would never be able to see or feel again.

They said humans were animals of oblivion, and he knew that someday even these memories would fade. But at least in this moment, he utterly despised the fact that he alone carried these memories.

Youngho looked at the faces of his chief aide, his strategist, and finally his disciple, and spoke.

“I’ll follow soon.”

Even as he said that, warm tears continued to flow from Youngho’s eyes.

The tears, no longer merely warm but burning hot, showed no sign of stopping.

As his surging fury boiled over, the tears flowing from his eyes began to be stained with blood.

Having taken in with his eyes everyone bound to him by memories, Youngho stared ahead with a face like an asura risen from hell.

“Heavenly Demon……!”

Before him sat a man cross-legged, gazing at him with an indifferent expression.

The heaven of all demons.

The master of ten thousand demons, the Heavenly Demon.

Youngho bit down on his lips as he glared at the Heavenly Demon, who wore a bland yet tranquil expression.

He briefly tasted the metallic flavor of blood from his torn lips.

“Impressive.”

His expression looked indifferent, but judging by his condition, such words should not have come out.

A long sword gash was carved into his side, and five or six arrows were embedded in his shoulder. On top of that, dark crimson blood flowed from the greatsword that had pierced through his leg.

Who, seeing him like this, would think he looked calm?

But among all the wounds he had suffered, the only one that could truly be called fatal—if one had to name it—was the greatsword that had pierced his leg.

Aside from that, there were countless injuries that could hardly even be called wounds, from minor cuts to the arrows lodged in his shoulder.

And yet, this man was calling him impressive.

Impressive? What was?

He wanted to ask what, exactly, was so impressive.

That he was alive in place of everything his disciple had been?

That the strategist had fought on while holding in his own spilling intestines just to command the battle until the end?

What was so impressive about any of that!

Youngho shouted as if squeezing his voice dry.

“Heavenly Demon…!!”

But the Heavenly Demon ignored his words and continued speaking.

“One who survives until the very end against me deserves to be called impressive, regardless of the means. But among them, you are special. Though you had your disciple’s help, you were the only one who survived through pure skill.”

“If you don’t want to die, you’d do well to shut up.”

At the voice dripping with cold intent, the Heavenly Demon tilted his head and asked.

“Do you still have the strength left to swing your sword? Your injuries must be so severe that even the Great Immortal Healer could not treat them.”

At those words, Youngho bared his blood-stained red teeth and replied.

“At least I still have enough strength left to take your head.”

“I see.”

As he spoke, the Heavenly Demon slowly began to rise from his seat, and the arrows embedded in his shoulder rattled before slipping free from his body.

‘As expected, those injuries weren’t even at the level of being called wounds.’

Youngho thought as he calmly analyzed the situation.

‘If I can take even one arm, it’s a profit.’

Of course, the odds of failing were far higher.

But Youngho began to unleash his fighting spirit without restraint.

The Unorthodox Alliance’s Asura Squad and the Murim Alliance’s Demon-Slaying Corps had all been annihilated by that single man.

Granted, that much was also possible for Youngho, who had reached the extreme of the State of Transformation.

But no matter how much he had reached the extreme of that realm, the Heavenly Demon’s ultimate goal was something Youngho could never achieve, even if he died and came back to life.

Demonic Dominion of the World.

Not only the Unorthodox Faction, but the majority of the Orthodox Sect’s forces had been extinguished here. All that remained were Youngho, barely clinging to life, and the Heavenly Demon, still unscathed.

The Heavenly Demon was just one step away from his goal.

“Our sect will name this war the ‘Orthodox–Demonic War.’ I hope you are not displeased that the name of the Unorthodox Faction is not included.”

Enraged by those words, Youngho spoke as blood vessels burst in his eyes and bloody tears streamed down.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I can kill you.”

At the same time, as if they had planned it in advance, the two took their stances, each flaunting their killing intent to the fullest.

He would probably die here today, and the Heavenly Demon would achieve the true Demonic Dominion of the World.

But…… it didn’t matter.

He had no curiosity about the Demonic Dominion of the World after his death.

All that remained for Youngho now was a desperate desire for revenge against the Heavenly Demon.

Boom!!

The Heavenly Demon kicked off the ground with such force that it seemed to cause an earthquake, charging straight at Youngho.

Having already anticipated his approach, Youngho drew out not only his inner energy but every last drop of his Innate True Qi, pouring it all into a single sword.

The more he forced up his Innate True Qi, the more his hair began to turn white, and he felt the muscles in his body rapidly wasting away.

Having squeezed out everything he had, Youngho swung his sword at the Heavenly Demon.

Clang!

The Heavenly Demon lightly deflected the lightning-like strike that carried all of Youngho’s being, then unleashed a fist strike with the momentum of his charge intact.

Youngho, who had already gathered and expended all the true qi in his body, looked at the fist coming toward him and thought—

Just once, if only once more there had been a chance…….

If he were to return to the past again, he would become stronger than now.

He would never lose what was his.

And…….

He would kill the Heavenly Demon.

With that thought, Youngho’s vision flashed white.

---

“Wake up!”

Smack, smack.

A woman dressed in soft silk clothes, soaked through, vigorously slapped the cheeks of a boy who lay unconscious.

“Wake up!”

At those words, the boy who had been keeping his eyes shut sprang up from the ground, his eyes snapping open like a ghost.

“Good heavens, that startled me! Are you alive?”

“……?”

The boy looked at the woman with a confused expression, then glanced around his surroundings.

“Are you okay? What were you doing here?”

At that, the boy ignored the woman and began slowly staggering toward the riverside.

“H-Hey? You shouldn’t be moving yet…….”

But ignoring her words, the boy looked at his own reflection in the water.

“Fuck, what the hell is this?”