Standing in a straight line, Hwang Ha-seong's group kept their eyes fixed on the approaching horseman.
Narrowing his eyes, Hwang Ha-seong said to Lee Min-geol,
"Will he really keep coming?"
"Honestly, I thought he'd turn tail and go back…."
If that happened, it would have been fine. At least then they could avoid the disgraceful sight of thirty elite warriors of the Dokgo family retreating from a single man.
But the man still spurred his horse forward at full speed.
The distance between them shrank rapidly.
The thirty pairs of eyes wavered.
He was still a young man.
His face was as cold as ice and as finely chiseled as a sculpture. A long sword scar ran down his right cheek. Hwang Ha-seong had never seen him in person before, but he had heard countless rumors about him—his looks included.
Hwang Ha-seong murmured with a groan.
"So it really is the Heavenly Demon Sword?"
While Hwang Ha-seong's gaze was filled with caution, Lee Min-geol looked excited.
"He's insane. For a commander to pull such a reckless stunt… Still, this is an incredible opportunity."
Just like their leaders, the twenty-eight subordinates were divided between unease and anticipation.
Hwang Ha-seong still couldn't believe what he was seeing. The undefeated general who had conquered the Outer Martial World alongside the Demonic Cult Leader, Thunder Emperor, for ten years… was being this reckless? It sent a chilling feeling through him.
He turned his horse, intending to order a retreat—but the chance was gone. The Heavenly Demon Sword was already within arm's reach. In the face of riding-the-tiger momentum, showing one's back now would be pure folly.
Baek Yun-hoe stopped his horse five or six jang in front of Hwang Ha-seong's group and asked,
"I have a question. If you answer it, I'll only take one wrist from each of you and spare your lives. Who was it that saw through my ploy to root out the spy and crush you one by one?"
Even before thirty elite warriors, the young man's gaze remained composed and lofty.
Sweeping back his wind-tossed hair, he gave a white, dazzling smile. The sight made Hwang Ha-seong shiver involuntarily.
That composure and confidence were no exaggeration.
It was the aura of a Grandmaster—an Absolute.
They said the Heavenly Demon Sword was twenty-nine years old. For someone so young to naturally exude such presence…
Many in the Orthodox faction believed the rumors about him were exaggerated. As tales tend to be, they assumed his age was a limiting factor.
In the martial world, there are two essential requirements for becoming a true master:
An accurate and wide-ranging understanding of martial techniques.
Deep internal energy to elevate those techniques to their highest power.
Youth inevitably meant shallow inner strength. No matter how much of a prodigy he was, even surviving the Heavenly Demon Cave, he would hit a wall against the elder masters of the peak.
And yet… the Heavenly Demon Sword before them showed no sign of yang blood flaring. That meant either no internal energy at all—or a depth so great it was invisible. The latter was the only possibility.
It meant his internal energy was far deeper than expected.
A deep, primal fear welled up in Hwang Ha-seong. Before them stood a giant—one they could never handle with their thirty. The Heavenly Demon Sword had clearly gained not only the martial techniques left by the Heavenly Demon in the Heavenly Demon Cave, but also some extraordinary fortuitous encounter.
He had a grim certainty—this young man could not be defeated even by a hundred elite warriors… perhaps not even more.
The Orthodox faction had thought of the Heavenly Demon Sword as nothing more than a vague "young genius master." Maybe it was because he had only roamed the Outer Martial World until now, and perhaps also because of their ingrained disdain for Demonic practitioners.
But Hwang Ha-seong felt it instinctively—
This man already possessed the qualities of a Grandmaster and would one day be a calamity for the Orthodox martial world!
Lee Min-geol spoke to the trembling Hwang Ha-seong.
"Commander! Give the order!"
Chaaaang!
Lee Min-geol and the other twenty-nine drew their swords with vigor.
Seeing his deputy and subordinates' reactions, Hwang Ha-seong's face twisted with despair. They couldn't feel the enormity of the opponent before them.
Baek Yun-hoe's lips curled into a strange smile, as if watching children at play. Then, noticing Hwang Ha-seong's pallor, his brows lifted slightly in surprise.
"Oh? Not all of you are trash. Are you someone close to the peak?"
"..."
"In any case, if it's blood you want, I'll gladly oblige. But if you ever feel like answering my question, speak at any time."
"..."
"Now! Take my first counterattack for ruining my strategy. I'm going to finish painting the picture I originally intended. Fufufu… I look forward to seeing how that unknown person responds."
Shhhk.
Drawing his icy blade, Baek Yun-hoe continued,
"Now you'll learn what true fear is. You, and that someone you meant to face me first."
The Black Ghost Blade's black saber swept through the air toward Bohyeon Divine Nun's waist.
Jjaaaeng!
His blade was blocked by her Green Staff. The Black Ghost Blade spun on his heel, swinging in the opposite direction.
Bohyeon Divine Nun stepped back, thrusting her left hand forward.
Paaaaah!
It was the Tathāgata Palm—a technique most hated by practitioners of demonic arts—striking down toward the Black Ghost Blade. A flicker of intrigue passed through his eyes.
He knew that in dodging her Tathāgata Palm, she would retreat to protect her disciples.
"Wahahahap!"
Gathering his full internal energy, the Black Ghost Blade let out a roar and swung. A tremendous blade force erupted forward.
Kwaaaaang!
"Kh!"
"Mmm!"
Both of them staggered back under the impact. The Black Ghost Blade felt the dull ache in his chest where he'd been hit earlier, but an insidious smile played on his lips.
Bohyeon Divine Nun had not expected him to meet her Tathāgata Palm head-on. To conserve her dwindling energy, she had not put her full strength into it.
That miscalculation left her with no small injuries—her robe and skin sliced by his sharp blade force, her meridians rattled, and blood rising to her throat.
No… Just hold on a little longer…
Soaked in sweat and blood, she clenched her teeth against the mounting exhaustion and pain. If she fell, her disciples—still barely holding onto hope—would collapse with her. That would mean the end of the sect's revival she had devoted her entire life to.
She wanted to cry, but held back. Such luxury was not allowed.
Forcing her unsteady body to move, she turned to check on her disciples—
And in that instant, an inky-black palm force and silver sword energy poured toward her.
The two elders of the Cold-Blooded Twin Extremes, pretending to attack the disciples, had crept in close for a sudden strike.
"Ah…!"
A sigh escaped her before she could stop it.
She instinctively raised her Green Staff and gathered the last of her internal energy from her dantian.
Kwaaaang!
A violent explosion—and through the gap came the screams of the Emei disciples.
"Master!"
"Head Master!"
Their cries were full of sobs.
Knocked into the air and forced back to her feet, Bohyeon Divine Nun finally let her tears fall.
"Keuheok!"
Blood burst from her mouth in a crimson spray, scattering in the air.
Her bent-back waist felt as though it would snap.
Forcing her blurred eyes open, she prayed to the Buddha.
A life spent only for the revival of my sect—I have no regrets. But… what will become of my poor disciples?
Papat!
From behind her, the Black Ghost Blade's sharp sword energy ripped through her clothes and flesh.
The three remaining Anti-Demon Coiling Dragon Formations collapsed. Her disciples could no longer maintain their formation—only rushing forward to save their endangered Head Master.
Swaeeaeeaek!Paaah!Jjaeng, jjaeaaaeeng!
The Emei Sect's disciples were elite, but the men in black were the very best of the best—the Sky Wolf Division and the Black Wolf Division combined. They were no fools to waste an opportunity once it appeared.
With overwhelming numerical superiority, the black-clad warriors swung their blades savagely at the collapsing Emei disciples.
"Head Master! Aaagh!"
"Master!"
Even as they died, the Emei disciples cried out desperately for Bohyeon Divine Nun.
She had been kinder than the mothers who gave them birth, as strict as a father, and a friend and teacher who had stood beside them in times of hardship and pain.
Emei's first disciple, Ura, saw red. She remembered that winter's day when she was an orphan on the verge of starving to death, and the Head Master had taken her hand.
She had told her she was not abandoned, but precious. That Heaven was giving her trials now so she would never forget hardship, and one day, become someone who could give to others.
Bohyeon Divine Nun had always stood on the side of the weak. Even as the leader of the noble Nine Great Sects, she humbled herself without end. How could someone like her fall so pitifully?
Ura charged forward, swinging her staff in wild, reckless arcs. Defense was completely abandoned—anyone standing between her and the Head Master would be struck down without mercy.
Chaaaang!Papat!
A sharp pain flared in her waist—a sword cut. But Ura didn't stop. This pain could come a hundred, a thousand times, and she would still go on.
"Master!"
Shouting at the top of her lungs, she knocked down two black-clad warriors blocking her path and rushed ahead—only for another to step in.
Puk!
A blade pierced her chest. Gritting her teeth, Ura smashed her attacker in the head and kept going.
Seogeok!
Her left arm fell away. She staggered, mouth opening as the pain she had forgotten came flooding in all at once.
"Aaah…"
The distance to her Head Master was now barely three jang.
The old man who had cut her down raised his sword with a cold glare.
"A young little nun with some skill. But this is the end."
The man blocking her way was Elder Naengjeol of the Cold-Blooded Twin Extremes.
With tears of blood, Ura said,
"Step aside. I can't see my Master… because of you…"
Shuak!
Naengjeol's sword split the air with a sharp, tearing sound.
In that moment, Ura felt the light of the world blink out. Her head, severed from her body, fell to the ground with a dull thud. In the darkening world, only her Master remained white in her sight.
I'm glad… that I could see you at the very end… truly glad…
Her mind went still.
Bohyeon Divine Nun, on the brink of collapse, saw Ura running toward her—and saw her arm fall away.
"U… Ura, no! Go back to the formation—"
Her voice was weak, barely audible. And then she froze, seeing Ura's head roll to the ground, her lifeless face still turned toward her.
Bohyeon Divine Nun knew.
Ura was looking at her, smiling through tears of blood. She knew what that smile meant—and her heart broke apart.
Behind Ura, more disciples charged toward her. Even as they were cut down, they came.
"Uuuhhhuhhheng!"
Her lion's roar tore through the battlefield.
Her inner energy was already gone, yet she did not know where the strength came from.
Her figure moved like a bolt of lightning.
"Uhk!"
Naengjeol, startled by the roar behind him, turned and froze. Bohyeon Divine Nun, who should have been dying, was surging toward him like a thunderclap. Blood Jeol, standing nearby, shouted in alarm,
"Dodge—!"
Before his cry was even finished—
Kwajik!
Her Green Staff pierced Naengjeol's heart. His eyes widened as he looked down at his chest.
"T-This… this is ridiculous… you damned…"
A gush of blood erupted from his mouth. That single moment of complacency had led to an irreversible mistake.
The battlefield fell silent.
Both black-clad warriors and Emei disciples froze, eyes wide.
Naengjeol's body trembled once, then collapsed to the ground. Bohyeon Divine Nun, having poured everything into that single strike, fell as well.
Two peak-level masters died in that instant.
"Uaaaargh!"
Blood Jeol roared in fury. He and Naengjeol had been sworn brothers—lifelong companions wherever they went.
His eyes bloodshot, he screamed,
"Kill them all! Leave no one alive!"
The Emei disciples also shouted through clenched teeth,
"Avenge the Head Master!"
"Follow the Head Master!"
The battle, paused for only a heartbeat, erupted again—more ferocious than before, as if the fighters had not already been locked in mortal combat for over an hour.
From a short distance away, the Black Ghost Blade, Ma Shin-rang, surveyed the field with a click of his tongue.
They had attacked with twice the numbers, from both flanks.
And yet losing a Demonic Sect elder was a bitter loss. A quick tally showed their six hundred had already been reduced by over a hundred.
"Tsk, tsk. At this rate, I'll have no face to show the Sky Wolf Division Leader. I can already hear the lecture he'll give me. Tch."
Emei's numbers had dropped from eighty to seventy, then to sixty. The Anti-Demon Coiling Dragon Formation, which had held firm in pure defense, could not withstand black-clad warriors striking from all directions.
Seeing Blood Jeol rampaging in grief over Naengjeol's death, the Black Ghost Blade moved to join the fight.
Too much time had been wasted, and the losses were greater than expected.
Then, from behind him, a great shout rang out.
"Waaaaah!"
"Save the Emei Sect!"
"The Dokgo Clan is here!"
Bellowing as they charged across a side path, a group came running.
At the sound, the Emei disciples—on the verge of losing all hope—rekindled their fighting spirit.
"Reinforcements are here!"
"We can live! Fight!"
"Survive and protect the Head Master's body!"
The Black Ghost Blade bit his lip as he saw the Dokgo Clan racing toward them with terrifying speed. In the end, spending too much time had led to this—Orthodox reinforcements pouring in from the very direction they needed to go.
Blood Jeol broke away from the melee and approached the Black Ghost Blade.
"Elder Black Ghost Blade!"
The Black Ghost Blade raised a hand to stop him.
"Wait."
Blood Jeol frowned at his calm demeanor. The Black Ghost Blade shrugged.
"Our men are tired from fighting, but they don't look much fresher either."
"Well, they must have been running themselves ragged to get here…"
"Then it's worth a fight, isn't it?"
Blood Jeol was taken aback, then grinned with a murderous glint in his eyes.
"You're right. If we retreat now, our lines could scatter and leave us vulnerable. And even if the Dokgo Clan joins them, we still hold the numbers."
"Exactly. And while the Dokgo Clan is one of the Eight Great Clans, they're the lowest of the eight. They're no match for us. If I take out the Clan Leader early, we might even win big."
The Black Ghost Blade had already done the math. To the Heavenly Demon Sword, he could simply say the Dokgo Clan had arrived much earlier than expected—leaving him no choice. That would absolve him of responsibility for losing Elder Naengjeol and so many subordinates.
Elder Blood Jeol nodded.
"Fine by me. I was already itching to get proper revenge for my brother Naengjeol."
His eyes gleamed with killing intent.
As the battle shifted, the group reached the ridge of the low hill surrounding them—Cheon Ryu-yeong and his companions.
At the same time, the Black Wolf Division, led by Division Leader Cho Ji-myeong, was racing toward the battlefield. And the Heavenly Demon Sword, Baek Yun-hoe, was also on the move with the Sky Wolf Division.