Among the Heavenly Wolf Troop, the youngest—eighteen-year-old Jaun—had just cut down two disciples of the Cheongseong Sect in succession. At that moment, a sword came slashing at his side.
Clang!
He blocked it.
But impossibly, though he was circulating his dantian and using inner power, Jaun's body was pushed back.
Startled, Jaun turned to see who had struck.
It was the Taoist who had been giving orders at the start of the charge.
The Headmaster of Cheongseong.
Breaking free of the wolves clinging to him, Jang Un had struck to save a disciple.
Seeing the boyish Jaun before him, Jang Un's fury erupted.
"To think even green, tender youths of the demonic horde are sent to slaughter the disciples of my sect! Do you hold us in such contempt?"
The disciple he had just tried to save—struck down by Jaun—had been a promising twenty-three-year-old.
Jang Un raised his sword and brought it down upon Jaun.
Shhhk! Clang!
Jaun blocked again, but was once more driven back.
"Damn it."
He bit his lip. Though only eighteen, his inner power was by no means small.
For he cultivated one of the Demonic Cult's most feared methods: the Heaven-Defying Energy Art. A dangerous discipline, it often led to qi deviation and ruin, but if mastered, its power was extraordinary.
Compared to his senior wolves, his strength was still lacking, of course. But knowing his opponent could not use inner power stoked his defiance.
"I'll take the Headmaster's head and present it to the Lord!"
Ambition flashed in Jaun's eyes.
He still remembered how the Lord of the Celestial Demon Sword, Baek Unhoe, had once given him his beloved steed, and praised his progress in the Exploding Heaven Style. From then on, Jaun had sworn to repay that trust.
"Hyaaah!"
Jaun charged at Jang Un. The Headmaster blinked in surprise. He had expected the boy to hide behind his seniors—but instead, he rushed in.
Disbelief and rage surged together.
Even deprived of inner power, to be challenged so brazenly by such a whelp!
"Little devil! Die!"
Shhhk!
Jang Un's sword came down like a thunderbolt, splitting the air. In that instant, Jaun felt his breath stolen away, as if the sword were cleaving his body in two. The weight of decades with the sword bore down on him like a mountain.
Yet Jaun did not retreat.
For the Lord!
Though terrified, he poured everything into an Exploding Heaven Style technique.
Clang!
Sword and blade met, sparks bursting blue. Jaun twisted, spinning sideways, and stabbed toward Jang Un's flank.
The Headmaster started in shock. This boy should have been driven back—yet instead, he pressed forward, lips bleeding, eyes blazing.
Even wounded by inner force, the whelp did not retreat. The sight left Jang Un momentarily speechless. Was the Heavenly Wolf Troop truly so fearsome, that even their youngest fought with such madness?
But there was no time to marvel.
Clang! Clang-clang! Clang-clang-clang!
Jaun unleashed every technique he knew in a frenzied storm, heedless of his qi being torn apart. His inner power drained away like a receding tide.
Jang Un felt not only vexation, but shame.
That he—Headmaster of Cheongseong—was held at bay by such a fledgling? Even with his inner power sealed, it was intolerable.
Jaun, however, only grew more exhilarated. Confidence surged. Despite his youth, he felt he could do it.
After all, had not the Lord of the Celestial Demon Sword survived the Demon Abyss—a feat countless masters had deemed impossible?
I too will become a true master, like the Lord!
Just then, Jang Un's sword thrust from an angle Jaun could never have predicted.
"Ah!"
Slash!
The blade cut across his side.
Fiery pain nearly drowned his senses. Yet Jaun advanced again.
At this point, he was no mere fanatic—he was deranged.
Shhhk!
He unleashed the Exploding Heaven Style's final technique: Demonic Wind of Slaughter.
Whoosh!
"Ah…"
Pouring his last reserves into the strike, Jaun's sword did nothing more than tear Jang Un's robe. A kick to his chest sent him flying.
Thud!
"Ghhhk!"
He crashed to the ground, ribs shattering. Yet impossibly, he lurched back to his feet, staggering toward the Headmaster again.
"What madness is this!"
Jang Un was appalled. The boy's ribs were surely broken, breathing itself a torment—yet he still advanced.
Watching him, Jang Un was struck by a bitter realization.
These were starving wolves. While the righteous sects had grown fat.
In this so-called golden age of the orthodox, the demonic sects had struggled merely to survive. The orthodox spent decades amassing numbers and influence, but true steel grows dull when left to rust.
Numbers meant nothing when tested.
"Heh… so it is. We thought ourselves fierce. But compared to them—we are nothing."
The Demonic Cult had spent ten years waging conquest in the outer world. By contrast, the orthodox had grown complacent.
Jang Un let out a bitter laugh, raised his sword, and shouted,
"Little devil! For your courage, I shall grant you a swift death!"
Clang!
Sword and blade clashed. Jaun's eyes went wide.
Craaaash!
His blade shattered. Jang Un's sword fell toward his skull.
"Ahh…"
Jaun closed his eyes. He knew it—against the Headmaster of Cheongseong, even without inner power, he could not prevail.
Yet he had no regrets. He had given his all. His only sorrow was never seeing the Lord again.
Clang! Thud!
"Khkk!"
A clash of metal, a muffled strike, and a stifled groan from Jang Un.
Jaun's eyes snapped open. Someone had saved him.
"Ah! My Lord."
The Celestial Demon Sword, Baek Unhoe.
He stood there, smiling faintly down at Jaun.
"I told you—the Headmaster of Cheongseong is mine."
Jaun bowed his head low.
"Forgive me, my Lord. I only wished to offer you the enemy commander's head."
"Haha… are you all right?"
"Yes, I—ghh…"
At last, Jaun clutched his chest and side, pain overwhelming him. Baek Unhoe clicked his tongue at the boy's sweat-soaked face.
"Tsk. Foolish brat. Didn't even realize your bones were broken?"
"I—it's fine. Ugh."
"Stand back. A future squad leader of the Heavenly Wolf Troop must not fall here."
Joy shone in Jaun's eyes. Though his face was twisted in agony, his gaze gleamed bright.
To serve the Lord closely, as a squad leader of the Heavenly Wolf Troop—that was his dream.
As the two exchanged words, Jang Un charged.
"So you are the Celestial Demon Sword!"
Whoosh!
His blade descended. Baek Unhoe plucked a dagger from his belt and flicked it.
Clang!
Jang Un swallowed back the groan that nearly burst out of him as he staggered backward. His sword had been forced back by the dagger charged with deep, overwhelming qi.
Baek Yun-hoe looked at Jang Un with a gentle smile.
"I'll kill you soon enough. Just wait."
"Heavenly Demon Sword!"
Jang Un gnashed his teeth. But Baek Yun-hoe turned his head slightly and called out to Gwan Taerang, who stood a short distance away.
"Gwan Taerang!"
"Yes, Master."
"Were you planning on doing nothing even if Jaun died?"
Gwan Taerang smiled faintly.
"Every one of us, including myself and the captains of Cheonrangdae, has survived countless brushes with death to reach this point. And that final charge was Jaun's own choice, his own will. He's a warrior, isn't he? And a Cheonrangdae warrior at that. His resolve must be respected."
"…What a heartless man you are."
Baek Yun-hoe clicked his tongue with a laugh.
The utterly relaxed demeanor of these men finally made the head of Cheongseong, Jang Un, realize something was wrong.
His eyes swept over the battlefield—not with a hasty glance this time, but carefully.
And from between his teeth escaped a long, bitter sigh.
"Ahh… so you're using us… as training?"
His voice carried both despair and humiliation.
In the opening assault, Cheonrangdae had struck like a storm, reaping countless disciples in an instant. But then, the leading elites of Cheonrangdae had stepped back, allowing their juniors to take the front, lending only occasional support.
A crushing sense of disgrace weighed down on Jang Un.
The great Cheongseong Sect had been reduced to nothing more than sparring dummies for a single unit of the Demonic Sect.
Grinding his teeth, Jang Un glared at the Heavenly Demon Sword. And he inherited the very resolve of the youth, Jaun, who had just thrown himself at him.
Fine. Then I'll die—but I'll take at least an arm of the Heavenly Demon Sword with me!
Tap-tap-tap!
He charged.
Baek Yun-hoe, still looking at Jaun, spoke with a solemn expression.
"Watch closely."
"Yes, Master," Jaun answered with a firm nod.
Chang!
Baek Yun-hoe drew his blade. The tip pierced upward toward the sun, then descended diagonally.
Jjaaaang!
Steel clashed.
Shukaang! Jjaang!
Baek Yun-hoe's sword seemed to bounce back, then slid along the enemy blade, deflecting it. In the next instant, he struck the wavering sword with a sharp blow.
Jaun's eyes went wide. He forgot his wounds and gaped in awe.
Astonishingly, the Master wasn't even using qi. The swordsmanship he displayed was none other than the Demonic Storm Style .
Whiiir—jjaang, jjaang, jjaang!
His blade spun, hammering the midsection of Jang Un's sword three times in succession before slashing across like a bolt of lightning.
"Urgh!"
Jang Un clutched his waist, his eyes bulging. Jaun shivered in shock.
He realized with trembling awe that his Demonic Storm Style could be this fierce and cutting.
Baek Yun-hoe's cold voice fell upon Jang Un.
"You dared cut the waist of my cherished youngest in the main unit…"
As he spoke, his body kicked off the ground, soaring into the air. Spinning, his leg lashed out.
Crack!
"Guaahhh!"
Jang Un's body went tumbling backward. He knew instantly that his ribs had shattered.
Blood-tears of humiliation welled in his eyes. He nearly wished he could bite his tongue and end it all.
Yet he staggered back to his feet.
"Heavenly Demon Sword… you're a man with not a shred of warrior's honor. I am still the head of Cheongseong! How dare you subject me to such disgrace?"
Baek Yun-hoe lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug, curling his lips into a frigid smile.
"I suppose I feel a little sorry. But I must fight a long war against the whole world. Cheongseong is nothing but a shallow stream I must cross. And if, in crossing it, my subordinates can grow even a little stronger, then I hope you'll understand my position."
"You bastard!"
Jang Un lunged again. But with broken ribs, his movements were sluggish.
"Still, I'll grant you a clean death—just as you tried to give Jaun."
Shuuk!
"Ghhh—!"
Blood spewed from Jang Un's mouth, gushing from a deep cut that ran from chest to waist.
Thud.
His knees struck the ground. His fading vision beheld the Heavenly Demon Sword.
Total defeat.
Baek Yun-hoe had never once used his inner force. That made it all the more humiliating… but perhaps it was also the greatest respect.
He had fought him on equal terms, warrior to warrior. Had Baek Yun-hoe used qi, Jang Un, poisoned and weakened, would not have lasted even a single move.
This man… his mind, his courage, his skill… he is a monster. The fate of the world trembles on the edge of a blade. Ahh…
The head of Cheongseong, Jang Un, collapsed face-first into the dirt.
With his death, the last threads holding the Cheongseong disciples' morale snapped. The slaughter, one-sided until now, became even more merciless.
Baek Yun-hoe surveyed the battlefield, then raised an arm.
Shaaak!
A golden pigeon—Gwanggu—swooped down and landed upon his arm.
He stroked its head, took a message tube from its leg, and unrolled the slip within.
The Surama Witch drifted over, utterly devoid of battlefield tension.
"Master, is that from the Young Lord?"
Baek Yun-hoe nodded.
"They say preparations to topple the stone pagoda are complete."
The Surama Witch shrugged, then pouted.
"Why hand the credit of conquering the Tang Clan to the Young Lord? We could do it ourselves. Honestly, that man is insufferable."
Baek Yun-hoe smiled wryly and shook his head.
"The unification of the world is no easy task. If I try to dominate alone, the sect will fracture. That would be disastrous. We must think bigger."
"But still…"
"We must embrace even those of our sect and the Black Heaven Lotus who disagree with us. Consider it a lesson in ruling the world to come."
The Surama Witch pouted.
"He's still awful."
Baek Yun-hoe chuckled.
"Agreed. Hahaha."
He laughed as he observed the battlefield winding down. Then he clicked his tongue with faint regret.
"Cheon Ryuyeong… it's fortunate yet disappointing you aren't here for this battle. Not that it would matter. By the time you arrived, the Tang Clan would already have fallen."
His confident gaze turned east, toward the lands of the Tang Clan.
"Sichuan is secured. Now begins the true decisive war for the Central Plains. Hahahaha…"
A dark smile spread across Baek Yun-hoe's lips.
At that very moment, Cheon Ryuyeong was stepping into the Sword Fragrance Hall atop Chengdu.