Chapter 338: Huang Feihong — If That's the Case, Let Me Forge a New Path
So this was it?
Even these factions and martial halls that Huang Feihong had carefully selected for being relatively less corrupt were this disgraceful?
"Heh… Master Huang, don't tell me you actually believed all those slogans about saving the people. Are you seriously trying to uplift the masses?"
The one who spoke was a burly man, his thick, claw-like fingers resting on the table like the talons of a hawk.
He was the hall master of the Eagle Claw Hall,
his gaze dark and hostile as it fixed on Huang Feihong's silent figure.
They had all just agreed to contribute a share of their profits to Baozhilin, and yet Huang Feihong still wore that expression—was he trying to squeeze them like the foreign devils did?
Hmph!
If things really soured, his Eagle Claw Hall's eight hundred disciples could wear him down to death, no matter how strong his internal energy was.
They had all seen the power of the inner cultivation method,
but this method, passed down from a middle-tier martial world, wasn't some divine panacea that could resurrect the dead or heal mortal wounds.
If Huang Feihong truly didn't know his place, they wouldn't need to hold back.
Huang Feihong remained expressionless. "So all your slogans about uplifting the people were lies?"
Lately,
he had spent a great deal of time with Chen Duo. Though the girl seemed a bit slow, her mind was full of knowledge—she claimed she'd studied it during her time hiding in the bunker.
Her world, too, had experienced dark days not unlike the current state of the Qing Nation—but they had managed to drive out foreign invaders in the end.
That gave Huang Feihong hope. He was no longer lost in uncertainty.
That was why he had reached out to all these factions, trying to rally them toward a common goal.
But reality had revealed its hideous face.
"Master Huang, while we respect you as a man of medicine and martial virtue, a true gentleman who keeps his hands clean—"
The Five Tigers Hall master no longer bothered with pleasantries. He tore off the mask and said directly, "But if you're seriously talking about driving out the foreigners, then maybe all that training has turned your brain to mush."
"If the foreigners leave port, the Tartar cavalry will immediately sweep in. The ones in charge will just swap their foreign skins for pigskins. What difference does that make?"
The rise of these coastal factions had only been possible thanks to the foreign devils and their gunboats.
The Tartars didn't dare interfere with them because they couldn't withstand Western firepower.
If the foreigners were driven away,
the Tartar cavalry would roll in and take the spoils. Every hall and faction would be trampled.
Forget their disciples—these very hall masters wouldn't even be able to feed themselves.
Huang Feihong's eyes remained calm. "Then let them come. The Tartars are rotten to the core. If we can drive off the foreigners, why would we fear a bunch of pigs?"
If the corrupt Qing court couldn't protect its people and only knew how to oppress them, then it should be overthrown.
"So you really are crazy, Master Huang. Farewell."
The Five Tigers Hall master cupped his fists with mockery in his eyes,
then turned and left.
The others followed suit,
and in the blink of an eye, the lively private banquet room was empty—Huang Feihong was left alone.
The Eagle Claw Hall master was the last to leave.
As he walked out, he cast one final vulture-like glance at Huang Feihong,
as if he were looking at prey he intended to pick clean.
"Heh… lunatic."
The thought echoed in his mind.
These days, inside and outside the borders—whether under the Tartar cavalry in the north or the Westerners in the south—
villainy thrived. Gambling halls and opium dens were everywhere.
One puff of smoke could ruin a family. One roll of the dice could see a man sell his wife and children.
Even the emperor smoked opium. Ministers fattened themselves selling the people to the West, digging gold mines, building railroads…
And Huang Feihong wanted to change all of that?
American and European powers, Tartar cavalry, warlords, martial halls, corrupt officials, noble houses—
he wanted to drive them all out?
How sharp would his blade have to be?
How many heads would need to roll?
Unless Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva descended from the heavens, or the Celestial Patriarch of Demon-Slaying was reincarnated—who could do such a thing?
That would mean turning the world upside down.
The Qing Nation had been rotting for centuries. The people's spines had long since been trampled beneath iron hooves.
These days, when a bystander saw someone beheaded, their first reaction was to grab a bun and soak it in the blood.
And Huang Feihong expected these same people to save the country?
He was clearly insane.
His martial cultivation had driven him into madness.
At some point,
the skies darkened, and rain poured down. The old streets quickly flooded with water.
Huang Feihong walked back to Baozhilin, soaked to the bone, and stood in the courtyard for a long time in silence.
"It shouldn't be like this. It can't be like this."
After changing his clothes, he sat in the study, flipping through the various books Chen Duo had given him.
To him, these books were more valuable than any martial arts manual.
A single medical volume, if fully mastered, could be used to build a modern hospital and drastically reduce the suffering of the common folk.
Hope was right in front of him.
The darkest night always came before the dawn.
Thump.
A small, unremarkable book fell to the floor.
Huang Feihong bent down and picked it up, casually flipping through a few pages—
and was immediately captivated, casting aside even his favorite medical texts.
He stayed up all night.
When his disciples rose for morning practice, they found that the study lamp had burned through the entire night.
Huang Feihong stepped out of the study. His hair was disheveled,
but his eyes were bright, full of determination, not a trace of the despair from the previous day.
"Revolutionary…?"
He repeated the word softly, raising his head to face the rising sun.
In his eyes, he saw an open road reaching up to the heavens.
"If this is the darkest night… then let me become the first spark—
the one to ignite the darkness."
Even if his body was broken, others would follow.
"Liang Kuan, Ah Rong, come with me."
"Where are we going, Master?"
"First, we'll pay the Five Tigers Hall a visit. I'm going to cripple its master and take over all their forces under Baozhilin."
Huang Feihong's gaze burned with unshakable resolve,
like twin flames in the depths of night.
A revolutionary doesn't just need kindness, humility, and patience.
They need thunderous force. They must be wildfires—burning fierce and bright.
With the Nine Yang Divine Skill protecting his body, he was the strongest man alive.
If reason failed, he could fall back on his fists.
...
"You're going to die, Akaza! Say it! Admit you want to become a Pillar!"
By the railway tracks beside the Infinity Train,
the morning sun was slowly rising.
Akaza was trapped within a glowing formation, sealed by countless yellow talismans. He couldn't move at all.
Sunlight was about to touch his body.
"I… lost to humans?"
Akaza could hardly believe it. His short cherry-pink hair was singed black in places.
As an Upper Moon demon,
he had battled countless powerful warriors and never lost. If not for his disdain for eating humans, he would've become even stronger.
Nearby,
the Flame Pillar was badly wounded—but not fatally—and could still stand with effort.
Tanjiro and Nezuko had fought side by side, unleashing power beyond the level of ordinary Pillars.
And—
They had used a variety of talismans and spells that specifically targeted demons,
all purchased with what little money Lord Ubuyashiki had left.
Finally, the Stone Pillar Himejima had arrived to join the fight,
using overwhelming brute strength and his rock-like body to defeat the demon.
Their goal: to kill an Upper Moon and boost morale.
In hundreds of years of records, the Demon Slayer Corps had killed many Lower Moons—
but never a single Upper Moon.
Now,
this battle marked a turning point—the moment the tide began to shift between the Corps and Muzan Kibutsuji.
"Lord Ubuyashiki gave each Pillar a tool, infused with their own demon-hunting power, capable of detecting a demon's innate evil."
The Akaza before them—
even after becoming a demon, had not committed mass murder. He had a chance at redemption.
That's why the Flame Pillar, Kyojuro Rengoku, hadn't struck the final blow.
Instead, he asked for Akaza's will.
Tanjiro looked at the struggling demon and shook his head.
"That sealing array is green-grade. Maybe if you were at full strength, you could've broken it. But right now… you're at your weakest."
"The array also blocks Muzan's awareness. You should be starting to remember what it meant to be human, right?"
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