Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Clang! Kaaang!

Whenever the Black Flames coiled around Youngho’s sword flared up, Yeonhui let out cries of pain as he was driven backward.

“Keugh!”

It was hot. As if he had plunged his own hand into molten lava, it burned fiercely. Faced with heat that felt as though it would melt him away, Yeonhui could not conceal his bewilderment.

—Cheongsal, you create an opening.

At Yeonhui’s voice transmission, Cheongsal immediately charged toward Youngho. Seeing Cheongsal rushing at him as if prepared to die together with his opponent, Youngho formed a grin like that of a malicious demon.

The resolve to latch onto his enemy even at the cost of a fatal wound was evident in Cheongsal.

Slash!

But Youngho wore a relaxed smile as he swung his sword while maintaining ample distance from Cheongsal.

Like a butterfly, he seemed within grasp yet slipped from the hand without fail. Though the situation was enough to make one’s temper flare, Cheongsal merely gazed at Youngho with deeply sunken eyes.

Youngho had seen such eyes many times before. Thousands—perhaps even more than ten thousand times by now.

‘Not an assassin, but one who was raised like one.’

Movements thoroughly devoid of emotion, and bold actions that treated his own life as nothing more than a mere fly.

Everything proved that this man was like an assassin who would use any means necessary for the sake of his objective.

Slash!

Even so, he was no match for Youngho. Cheongsal’s side was soon stained red. Yet at the sight of Cheongsal’s still deeply sunken eyes, Youngho let out a faint snort.

“Sloppy.”

Youngho twisted his body and evaded the flying hidden weapons. The sight was so astonishing that even Cheongsal, who had strictly controlled his emotions until now, could not suppress his shock.

‘He reacted before I even threw the hidden weapon?’

It felt as though he were seeing a sliver of the future.

‘There’s no need to waste stamina on an obvious move.’

Had Cheongsal’s opponent not been Youngho, those hidden weapons moments ago would have certainly been effective.

If it had been an ordinary Transcendent Peak Master rather than Youngho, his attention would have been drawn to the hidden weapons, and he would have been mercilessly slain by Yeonhui’s sword in that instant.

A bead of sweat formed on Yeonhui’s chin and fell to the ground.

He was a truly terrifying opponent. His martial might did not appear overwhelmingly high, yet his judgment in predicting the next move and his ruthless boldness in exploiting even the slightest opening made it impossible to seize the upper hand easily.

And above all…

‘He was definitely struck by poison?’

Each time Yeonhui approached Youngho, he continuously scattered poison. Poison that seeped through the skin, poison that entered through the breath—he had used every poison available to him.

And yet Youngho’s movements had not slowed in the slightest. Even his circulation of Internal Energy appeared smooth.

‘It’s my specially refined Dissipating Skill Poison!’

As poison failed to affect his opponent, his sobriquet of Poison Demon was losing its luster.

His poison could intoxicate even a master of the Transformation Realm. It would have been normal for at least some hindrance in movement, yet the monster before him showed no such sign.

Though Cheongsal was striving his utmost to create an opening, not even the faintest gap appeared in Youngho.

There were no dazzling techniques—he merely moved a single step and preserved a martial artist’s innate domain, making it impossible to dare an attack.

Left with no choice, Yeonhui sent a voice transmission to Cheongsal.

—We fight together. From now on, it’s a coordinated attack.

—Understood.

Boom!

With a thunderous crash that shook the underground passage, Yeonhui kicked off the ground and shot toward Youngho like a lightning bolt.

Kaaang!

The instant Yeonhui’s sword clashed with Youngho’s, Cheongsal slipped into a blind spot Youngho could not possibly see and lashed out with his leg.

A kick aimed precisely at Youngho’s jaw shot forward faster than sound.

Smack!

But as though he saw through all of Cheongsal’s movements, Youngho lightly twisted the kick aside with his bare hand.

As the trajectory of his kick changed, Cheongsal forcefully kicked off the ground with his remaining leg to regain his balance.

Whirrr!

Watching Cheongsal spin his body at tremendous speed like a top, Youngho let out a hollow laugh.

“Are you a clown?”

Boom!

Youngho’s sword hilt shot toward Cheongsal’s chest as he danced in midair. To avoid a fatal wound, Cheongsal crossed his arms and received the attack head-on.

Crack.

Though he believed he had blocked it properly, the sound of breaking arm bones rang out as Cheongsal was sent flying.

And as if Cheongsal’s death meant nothing, Yeonhui attempted to thrust his sword into Youngho’s abdomen alongside him—but as Youngho took a single step to the side, the attack was nullified.

With a savage smile, Youngho drove his fist into Yeonhui’s face.

Boom—!

Yeonhui slammed into the wall of the passage at a speed like a ray of light, coughing up congested blood rising from his throat as he spat out,

“You…!”

“I don’t particularly feel like talking to you.”

The fight had been far too easy. Youngho decided to finish it here.

‘Weak.’

Of course, even if one had reached the Peak Master Level, it was an excellent coordinated attack—if one were to withstand Yeonhui and Cheongsal’s combined assault, the chance of survival would not even reach thirty percent.

It was simply that their opponent had been unfortunate. Had Youngho, before his Regression, merely been an ordinary master of the Transformation Realm, this would have been a far more difficult battle than this.

But Youngho had once possessed martial might ranked among the top three under heaven.

No matter how weakened his body had become, no matter if it could not follow the movements he once had before his Regression, the consciousness of Youngho—who had been called the Sword Demon—remained unchanged.

‘Less satisfying than the half-baked Chief Stronghold Leader of the Yangtze.’

That one had at least possessed a possibility of killing him. But these two…

“Truly no tension at all.”

An indescribable humiliation surged within Cheongsal and Yeonhui.

“You…! Do you not even have respect for martial artists?!”

Not a trace of respect for martial artists could be found in Youngho’s conduct.

Originally, in a fight between martial artists, even if the opponent was weak, it was proper etiquette to go all out.

But having crossed blades with him, Yeonhui knew. Youngho had not been fighting with his full strength. He had swung his sword as calmly as if he were out for a stroll.

With a cold smile, Youngho rebuked them sharply.

“You are not martial artists.”

“What do you—!”

“You are nothing but filthy butchers. No—once you laid a hand on even a single Common Person, you became nothing more than trash, nothing more and nothing less. So…”

Slash!

“Just die already. You prattle with filthy mouths—your stench reeks like that of the Demonic Cult.”

It had been only a single swing. Yet Cheongsal and Yeonhui had not even seen Youngho’s strike, nor had they realized their heads had been severed before they collapsed.

Thud.

Afterward, Youngho turned his gaze toward Kang Hosan and Kang Chowon. It seemed they had squeezed their stamina to its limit—both were on the verge of collapse.

Amid the urgent situation, Youngho dashed forward like an arrow and annihilated the Jiangshi with a single sword.

His blade moved so swiftly that Kang Hosan and Kang Chowon could not even perceive it. Then he asked them,

“Exhausted?”

“Yes.”

“Then circulate your Qi. I’ll stand guard.”

Seeing the ease in Youngho’s expression, Kang Hosan and Kang Chowon nodded, sat in a cross-legged meditation posture, and began Circulation and Regulation of Qi.

It was not something even senior and junior disciples of Great Sects could easily do among themselves. A martial artist was most vulnerable while circulating Qi.

A slight disturbance might be tolerable, but if the breathing of one’s cultivation method was disrupted, one would normally fall into deviation or die from the backlash of reversed Qi.

Thus, Qi circulation required either the safest place possible or someone utterly trustworthy nearby…

“These two really do as they’re told?”

He had been half joking.

It meant they trusted Youngho that much, yet as he watched them, Youngho thought they would find it difficult to survive within the Unorthodox Faction.

That was precisely why he pitied them more. At times, Youngho had wondered whether, at least in Kang Chowon’s case, it might not have been better for her to become a disciple of the Nine Sects and One Gang.

Then perhaps her dream might have come true.

Youngho had once asked Kang Chowon what her dream was. Her answer at the time had been obvious, yet the most difficult and complex of all.

—Peace under heaven.

The memory surfaced, and Youngho let out a faint chuckle. It had been bold—words that could only sound like childish bravado.

Yet it had also been a dream Youngho himself had once desired. In the end, he had lived while conceding to a reality he could not overcome.

Looking at Kang Chowon with pitiful eyes, Youngho thought,

‘I’m sorry.’

Though it was to win the war against the Demonic Cult, the path of the Unorthodox Faction was worlds apart from the Orthodox Sect.

The path of the Unorthodox Faction was especially difficult for those whose hearts were upright and righteous.

Yet in the end, Youngho had made Kang Chowon a member of the Unorthodox Faction. She would become one of the darker facets of the Jianghu, and perhaps merely for being of the Unorthodox Faction, she might earn a vicious sobriquet.

Youngho feared the wounds she would receive then. He feared seeing her in pain. And he feared that, in time, she would grow accustomed to that pain.

Even so, Kang Chowon had to live as a member of the Unorthodox Faction. More precisely, she had to grow beneath him.

Her light was powerful. At this rate of rapid growth, she was a genius who might one day attain martial might equal or comparable to his own during his days as the Sword Demon.

There had been ample time for reflection. As soon as Youngho began guarding the two, the Jiangshi Controller attacked Muyeon and Horyeung, who were dismantling the Formation.

Youngho roughly counted the number of moving Jiangshi.

‘…It seems he can control at most around forty.’

As expected, his skill in handling Jiangshi was not particularly high. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that this level was sufficient to be regarded as someone skilled at handling Jiangshi within the Murim.

But Youngho knew.

He knew the true depth of the Demonic Cult—their various Heretical Arts and their pure martial force. Those within the Demonic Cult who handled Jiangshi best could control up to a thousand.

And fundamentally, they could control up to a hundred with ease. Before that immense army of Jiangshi, the alliance of Orthodox and Unorthodox forces had gradually been pushed back.

Though it was said that a single absolute master could sway the tides of war, fundamentally war was a contest of numbers.

Yet the number of Jiangshi far exceeded what the alliance had imagined.

Moreover, they were not ordinary Jiangshi but Poison Jiangshi, so the casualties had been far too severe.

To safely deal with Poison Jiangshi, one had to at least be at the Master Level. Even then, due to their overwhelming numbers, one was often overwhelmed.

‘But this time will be different.’

The Poison Jiangshi had been eliminated. Had Youngho not come here with Muyeon, this would never have happened.

Even if Nam A-pyeong had formed a subjugation force, had he not personally stepped forward, the martial artists of the Gold-Blood Hall who came here would have been annihilated.

And the production of Jiangshi would have continued regardless.

There would have been no need for the one lurking in Yeonhui’s shadow to step forward. Yeonhui was the Poison Demon, one who controlled poison—an enormous advantage in large-scale battles.

Youngho looked at Muyeon, who was dismantling the Formation while beads of sweat trickled down his face.

‘Hurry.’

Only then would there be evidence to capture that bastard.