Jang Cheon Ryu-yeong… you don't even realize it.
The Black Ghost Blade gave instructions to Blood Jeol.
"Take the Black Lotus troops and wipe out the Emei Sect, then rejoin me. I'll lead the Sky Wolf Division and the Black Wolf Division. Who knows… I might finish off the Orthodox before you do. Shall we make a wager?"
The Black Ghost Blade's tone brimmed with confidence.
The Sky Wolf Division and the Black Wolf Division still numbered around two hundred each—four hundred total—plus about a hundred Black Lotus warriors.
Leading four hundred elites, the Black Ghost Blade didn't consider the three hundred-strong Dokgo Clan worth worrying about. If he eliminated the Dokgo Clan Leader early, the fight would likely end quickly.
After all, the Dokgo Clan Leader had not mastered both demonic arts and the fierce Buddhist martial arts like Bohyeon Divine Nun, nor did his subordinates wield peerless formations like the Anti-Demon Coiling Dragon Formation. This would be a pure contest of strength—the kind Demonic warriors loved most.
Blood Jeol nodded with a grin.
"Kekeke. Even so, I'll be faster."
The two called their subordinates to them and rapidly reorganized their ranks.
Thanks to that, the Emei Sect—now with fewer than fifty members—had a brief respite. But one glance around filled them with despair. All the monks were dead, making it impossible to re-form a proper Anti-Demon Coiling Dragon Formation.
If the Dokgo Clan couldn't break through to them quickly, the situation remained hopeless. And by their judgment, the Dokgo Clan Leader was no match for the infamous Great Demon Head, the Black Ghost Blade, who had made his name forty years ago.
Still, there was no time to wallow in despair.
The Emei disciples hastily formed an incomplete Anti-Demon Coiling Dragon Formation with thirty members, while the remaining twenty waited inside, ready to reinforce the most dangerous points.
Half a gak passed—a short or long span, depending on how one saw it—while both sides finished readying their ranks.
When the Black Ghost Blade saw the Dokgo Clan warriors finally closing in, he raised his saber and barked orders to his troops.
"You all know things have deviated from the original plan. But what of it? Aren't you the strongest external division of the Demonic Sect? Fight, win, and return to the Sichuan Branch singing the song of victory!"
The Sky Wolf Division and the Black Wolf Division were slightly unsettled by the unexpected change in orders.
But in the Demonic Sect, there was no such thing as disobeying a command—only thorough execution.
"Go! Crush the Dokgo Clan in one stroke!"
"Uwoooooh!"
Not to be outdone, Dokgo Mu-yeong shouted, channeling his inner energy into his voice.
"Save the Emei Sect and show the might of our clan!"
"Cut down every last vile demonic lackey!"
"Waaaaah!"
A tremendous roar erupted from both sides, and at last, the two unyielding waves collided. Blades clashed furiously, scattering sparks.
Chaaaang!Jjeong, jjeong!
"Uaaagh!"
"Break through! Push past them!"
"Not a chance—die!"
Screams and shouts tore through the battlefield as the two sides clashed again and again, neither willing to yield, each determined to smash through the other.
Dokgo Mu-yeong slipped aside from a thrust aimed at him, smashing his opponent in the face with the hilt of his blade.
Kwajik!
The man's nose shattered, sending him sprawling, and Mu-yeong's Wind Sky Saber immediately swept through the next black-clad warrior.
"Uagh!"
In moments, three or four foes had fallen to his domineering saberwork.
"So you're the Clan Leader, Dokgo Mu-yeong?"
An old man with a black saber blocked his path and posed the question. Mu-yeong almost brought his Wind Sky Saber down on him without hesitation—then stopped short.
There was something unusual about the aura radiating from this man's form.
A chill of instinctive danger whispered that charging in carelessly could get him killed in a single blow.
"And you are?"
Drawing his saber up before his chest, Mu-yeong asked. The old man laughed mockingly.
"Kekeke. I am Elder of the Great Heavenly Demonic Cult—Black Ghost Blade, Ma Shin-rang."
The name made Mu-yeong's heart jolt in shock.
No one could hear that name and remain entirely calm. But he masked it with a bold expression and barked,
"So you're an old relic who should have died long ago. I'll cut down your past crimes against the martial world and uphold my clan's honor!"
"Kahahaha! You truly are a foolish one, aren't you? Barely clinging to the lowest seat among the Eight Great Clans, and yet your mouth runs well. We'll see if you keep boasting after you fall like Bohyeon Divine Nun."
With a mocking grin, the Black Ghost Blade lunged. His words drained the color from Mu-yeong's face.
No… it can't be… does that mean Bohyeon Divine Nun has fallen?
The mental shock dulled his reactions for an instant, and in their first clash, he was driven back hard.
"Khuh! Tell me—has Bohyeon Divine Nun truly fallen?"
To the Orthodox, she was known as the Iron Lady, but in truth, she had been the warmest soul of them all. And Mu-yeong had been personally close to her, making the blow all the heavier.
The Black Ghost Blade clicked his tongue and sneered.
"Tsk, tsk. Shaken over something so trivial—you Orthodox really are pathetic."
His black saber swung in a brutal arc to cleave Mu-yeong in two from top to bottom.
"Y-You—!"
Mu-yeong barely rolled aside nearly a jang to evade, then looked down at his chest in disbelief.
His shirt hung in tatters from the blade's edge, but—thankfully—his skin was untouched.
No time to be shocked. No—I must avenge Bohyeon Divine Nun!
A grim resolve boiled up inside him.
The Black Ghost Blade charged again, saber forward, releasing a wave of palm force at the same time—determined to overwhelm him from the start.
"Come!"
Mu-yeong planted his Wind Sky Saber before his chest, holding his breath as he drew up even more inner energy.
Puuuuum!
The Wind Sky Saber's force clashed with the Black Ghost Blade's, detonating in a roar. As their blades were about to meet, Mu-yeong suddenly spun back once, then twice sideways, neutralizing the elder's attack and bringing his saber to the man's throat.
"Oh? So you are the Clan Leader of one of the Eight Great Clans. But at that level, you're no threat at all."
The Black Ghost Blade bent his waist backward nearly at a right angle, sneering, and at the same time raised his right leg to strike Mu-yeong's knee.
Puhk!
It looked like a simple kick, but it carried all of the elder's internal power. Mu-yeong tried to anchor himself with the Thousand-Jin Drop technique, but the gap in power was too great—he was forced sliding back.
"Kahahaha! Without Buddhist martial arts, you're far easier to deal with."
The Black Ghost Blade, full of confidence, moved to cut him down in one stroke—but then his face twisted in sudden pain, losing the moment.
"Mmm…"
A sharp pain flared in his chest, brief but enough to arrest his movements.
Damn… that woman's Tathāgata Palm is still plaguing me.
The anti-demonic nature of Bohyeon Divine Nun's palm strike had never fully dissipated within his body, lacking the time to properly cycle his breathing.
When he pushed his demonic energy to the limit, the remnants of that force rebelled and flared inside him.
For masters, even an instant of hesitation could be fatal.
Mu-yeong, seizing the moment, launched himself at the Black Ghost Blade—this time with his power drawn up to its peak.
Jjjeooong!
The Wind Sky Saber and the black blade clashed with a fierce crash, marking the start of an unyielding exchange in which neither side gave an inch.
Jjaeng, jjaeng, jjaeng! Jjaeng, jjaeng, jjaeeaeng!
Having narrowly escaped disaster, Dokgo Mu-yeong did not forget the danger that blind rage had brought him moments earlier. He fought with full concentration and composure.
The Black Ghost Blade, though not retreating, found growing discomfort on his face—he could not raise his internal energy beyond seventy percent.
Damn! Bohyeon Divine Nun! Even in death, you hinder me!
Grinding his teeth, he swung his blade again.
Meanwhile, unlike the Black Ghost Blade, Blood Jeol moved with caution. The Anti-Demon Coiling Dragon Formation, which had tormented them so viciously for two shichen, had been re-formed—though only one remained.
If they didn't break it on the first assault, their own lines would become a mess, making it even harder to destroy the formation.
Drawing on bitter experience, Blood Jeol studied the formation carefully, then allowed a smile to curl his lips.
Its momentum was nothing like before, and weaknesses stood out everywhere to his eyes.
"Kekeke. What a waste of time. A slapdash formation like that can be crushed with brute force."
He raised his sword high toward the sky and shouted to his Black Heaven Pavilion subordinates,
"It's a shoddy formation—smash it apart!"
"Uwooooh!"
The Black Heaven Pavilion warriors roared and charged. The faces of the Emei disciples before them were dark with despair.
Like lamps before the wind—pungjeondeunghwa—their fate seemed all but sealed.
The Dokgo Clan warriors they had pinned their hopes on were not breaking through toward them, but instead were being pushed back.
Then it happened.
From the forest behind the Emei disciples came a thunderous shout.
"The Invincible Sword of Kunlun, Han Chu-gwang, is here!"
A lion's roar that made the air vibrate!
An instant later, a hundred Kunlun disciples stormed down the mountain slope like a tidal wave, their battle cries shaking the air.
"Waaaaa! Save the Emei Sect!"
"Crush the Demonic horde!"
"Emei Sect, fall back! We'll take them!"
Han Chu-gwang's booming voice and the Kunlun Sect's lightning arrival brought color back to the Emei disciples' faces. It wasn't just the Dokgo Clan—Kunlun had come as well!
In contrast, the faces of the black-clad warriors turned ashen.
At the head, Han Chu-gwang darted forward like the wind and bellowed,
"Not one of you! Not a single one will leave here alive!"
Blood Jeol's face paled. Why were they suddenly appearing from there of all places?
But as he counted their numbers, he let out a relieved breath.
According to intelligence, Kunlun had four hundred fighters. By a rough glance, they seemed about equal in number to his own force—meaning three hundred Kunlun warriors and a hundred-fifty from the Black Tortoise Unit must have gone to the Sichuan Branch instead. The situation had worsened slightly, but it was still manageable.
On the ridge above, the remaining Kunlun disciples and Black Tortoise Unit members watched the battle below with tense eyes.
In particular, Dokgo Seol felt as if her chest were burning to ash. When she'd seen her father driven back repeatedly by a Demonic master, she had nearly charged down alone without orders.
Now, though the fight was even, the heavy weight of dread still pressed on her.
She glanced at the man beside her—Cheon Ryu-yeong. Blood spattered, intestines spilling, the slaughter below was unrelenting—yet his expression remained calm.
Perhaps out of wonder at that calmness, or to distract herself from her own anxiety, Black Tortoise Unit Leader Neung Un-bi spoke.
"You're not even a martial artist, yet you're remarkably composed. Have you seen battles like this before?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong nodded without taking his eyes from the battlefield.
"Yes."
Had it been during his work for an escort agency? Or from some other experience?
Neung Un-bi was curious, but now was no time to ask further.
"A moment ago, the Clan Leader was in serious danger."
"Is that so? I'm not a martial artist, so my sight isn't so keen… but he seems to be fighting well now."
Even his pleasant, clear voice held no tremor. Neung Un-bi shook his head inwardly.
For an ordinary man, wasn't this an absurd level of composure?
Perhaps, since he wasn't of the martial world, he felt no deep connection to the Clan Leader.
Dokgo Seol cut in suddenly.
"What? That's such a careless thing to say! My father could have been killed!"
Cheon Ryu-yeong's brow furrowed slightly, but he quickly smoothed his expression and replied.
"I'm stating my view. The Clan Leader, the Invincible Sword, and the Unit Leader all accepted my plan."
Neung Un-bi nodded toward Dokgo Seol, but she, still glancing anxiously at her father, pressed on.
"What was your strategy? We outnumber those black-clad warriors! If we all went down together, we'd have had a high chance of winning!"
For the first time, Cheon Ryu-yeong tore his gaze from the valley and looked at her.
"Are you worried your father might be harmed, Commander?"
"Are you seriously—"
He cut her off.
"You're not wrong. But if we'd done that, we'd have taken far too many losses. Just as the Clan Leader is your father, the many subordinates fighting alongside him are fathers and children to others."
"…!"
"I'm trying to save as many as possible. Don't think only of your own family on the battlefield."
His voice stayed even, but everyone listening could sense the irritation and heat beneath it.
Caught off guard, Dokgo Seol couldn't reply. Cheon Ryu-yeong turned his eyes back to the battlefield and went on.
"Besides, the Heavenly Demon Sword is a clever man. We have to consider the possibility that he's read our intentions and will send reinforcements. This may not be the final battle."
Dokgo Seol bit her lip and clenched her fists before speaking.
"Fine. I admit it. Now that we've surrounded them from both sides, we've got the advantage. But still! Why are the three hundred fifty of us just sitting here? We could have gone down with Kunlun!"
At that, Cheon Ryu-yeong gave a short, derisive laugh and said indifferently,
"You really don't know why?"
Her brows knit at the sting to her pride, but she answered honestly.
"No. I don't. That's why I'm asking."
She wasn't alone—most of those present were watching him with the same curiosity.