Truth and Lies (3)
The Blood Priest furrowed his brow at Nok ak cheon's words.
"A clever plan, you say?"
"Yes. Capture Murim Scholar, their commander."
"...!"
"Whether or not they truly have the Formless Deadly Poison, if we seize him and threaten his life, the Tang Clan won't dare act recklessly."
The Blood Priest's gaze followed Cheon Ryu yeong. Murim Scholar's position was slightly off to the right of the central training ground.
And not far from him, at the very edge of the Tang Clan's formation, stood the Red Wolf Squad's Fifth Commander and his men.
"Excellent. Even if we must abandon the Tang Clan should the poison be real, at least we can capture Murim Scholar. If we hold them hostage, no matter how ruthless the Tang Clan, they cannot unleash the Formless Deadly Poison. Of course… that is assuming it truly exists."
Capturing Murim Scholar, whom the Heavenly Demon Sword himself regarded warily, would not be a bad accomplishment in the long struggle toward unifying the world. It was the kind of achievement that could be boasted of for years to come.
And if they could also seize Namgung Clan's Changcheonryong and Dokgo Clan's Sword Peak as hostages, the gains would be even sweeter.
Mabul, who had been listening closely at their side, voiced his agreement.
"A fine idea. Take them as hostages, then deal with the Tang Clan depending on how things unfold."
The leaders expressed satisfaction with Nok ak cheon's quick thinking.
Even Sa Hyeolgang, who had been silently watching, gave a strange smile—he too had been thinking the same.
Yet there were two things they failed to realize.
First: the very fact that they were plotting such a surprise attack revealed that even the leadership now entertained the possibility that the Formless Deadly Poison truly existed. If their hearts wavered this much, what of their subordinates?
On the rooftops surrounding the pavilion, men sat with their hearts burning in fear that the Tang Clan might untie their poison satchels at any moment.
And second: Cheon Ryu yeong's position at the edge of the training ground, moving back and forth on horseback with only a few guards, was no accident.
He was unskilled in martial arts. To stand apart from the main force with only scant protection—it was both a show of confidence that they possessed the poison, and a baited trap to lure in an ambush.
Thus Cheon Ryu yeong had drawn the enemy leaders exactly where he wanted them. Though it was unavoidable, since that was in fact the best option they had.
It was then that Tang Cheolhyeon, in an annoyed tone, spoke to Cheon Ryu yeong.
"Fine. Since I gave my word in the name of the Tang Clan Lord, I shall keep it. But if they persist in rejecting your demand for surrender…"
As Tang Cheolhyeon trailed off, Cheon Ryu yeong answered,
"Yes, then it can't be helped. Regrettably, blood will be shed."
Even before he finished speaking, the Red Wolf Fifth Commander suddenly charged forward with his men.
They had received the order through Nok ak cheon's sound transmission.
"Ah!"
The Tang Clan members groaned at the sudden ambush.
This was clearly a battlefield.
Yet ever since Cheon Ryu yeong had appeared, strangely enough, the fighting had ceased, replaced only by words.
Of course, that was not unheard of.
Before battles, there were often threats, negotiations, and attempts to secure justification.
But absurdly, many had actually forgotten they were face-to-face with the enemy in the middle of a battlefield, their focus consumed entirely by the mystery of the Formless Deadly Poison.
Since its existence could decide the battle, this was unavoidable.
Thus when the demonic forces suddenly attacked Cheon Ryu yeong, the Tang Clan could not react in time.
Some glanced at their Lord, Tang Cheolhyeon. But he only watched impassively, his expression unchanged.
Only the woman beside him, Dokchalnyeo, cried out urgently.
"We must help him!"
Tang Cheolhyeon replied immediately.
"It is already too late."
"What?"
She was dumbfounded. But she did not miss the fleeting smile that touched Tang Cheolhyeon's lips.
'What is this? Could he have intended this all along? But why?'
Meanwhile, the Red Wolf Squad commander and his fifty men rushed close to Cheon Ryu yeong. At their head, Yacha Sword Jo Jeonhu drew his massive five-chi blade, his face grim.
They had expected an ambush—but the numbers were greater than anticipated.
Even so, his voice boomed bold and hearty.
"You greenhorn demons! I am Yacha Sword!"
Standing before Cheon Ryu yeong's white horse, lined in formation, were Pyeong-u, Namgung Su the Changcheonryong, Dokgo Seol the Sword Peak, Jang Deukmu the Flying Sword, Hwa Gayun the Flame Sword, and Tang Hyemi of the Tang Clan. Prepared in advance, they responded swiftly.
But just as Jo Jeonhu feared, the attackers were many, and their faces hardened. They had to stop this first assault at all costs.
Only then could they move to the next step of Cheon Ryu yeong's plan.
Tang Cheolhyeon's eyes twitched as he watched. He feigned calm, but inside he worried.
'Please… just hold once. Young Master Cheon, you said you could do this… I will trust you.'
Meanwhile, Nok ak cheon and the six leaders, after giving the order by sound transmission, advanced with their personal guards to block any Tang Clan rescue attempt.
"Hm?"
Nok ak cheon let out a bitter laugh.
It had happened suddenly, yet the Tang Clan seemed paralyzed.
The leaders' eyes turned toward Tang Cheolhyeon.
The one who should have ordered Murim Scholar's rescue simply stood watching. To Dokchalnyeo's plea, he had only replied that it was too late.
"...!"
A chill ran through Nok ak cheon. Could it be… the Tang Lord had no intention of saving Murim Scholar?
Why?
Why give no order at all?
"Surely not…"
Nok ak cheon swallowed hard, his body trembling.
Just moments ago, Tang Cheolhyeon and Murim Scholar had clashed in opinion.
Could it be that Tang Cheolhyeon intended to abandon him? That would only make sense if…
Nok ak cheon's eyes rose to the rooftops above the grand training ground.
Those men standing with satchels.
"Could it be… that what they hold truly is the Formless Deadly Poison?"
A thought struck him—that the Tang Lord might even sacrifice Murim Scholar to claim all the glory of this battle for himself.
His head turned sharply.
The Red Wolf Fifth Commander and his men were about to clash with Murim Scholar's guards.
Jo Jeonhu raised his sword high and barked to the youths beside him.
"Stay calm! Don't fight to win—just block and push them back!"
And as he prepared to swing his blade, a fierce gust of wind blasted past.
"Wha—!"
Both Jo Jeonhu and Namgung Su cried out in shock.
From between them, Pyeong-u suddenly twisted his body and shot forward.
The speed was unbelievable—the very air compressed and rippled, birthing a gale.
The Heavenly Bow's Celestial Step—the fastest movement art in the world.
Jo Jeonhu, Namgung Su, and many others doubted their own eyes.
Pyeong-u's figure moved too swiftly, his body trailing like a shimmering mirage.
And his sword—
Shugagagagak!
It split the void, its blue aura tearing through the darkness.
Sword Qi, the manifestation only of those who had reached the peak.
Papatatatat!
The radiant strikes pierced the Red Wolf commander and several men at the vanguard.
But the speed—far faster than ordinary sword Qi.
Swift! Beyond even that—supreme swiftness.
The Sword Qi of Extreme Speed!
"Guaaaah!"
"Ugh!"
"Khuh!"
The front line collapsed, groaning and writhing on the ground. Those following halted in horror.
Someone swallowed hard and muttered:
"A… peak master."
That alone was not surprising—six of the leaders here were peak masters, and including Asura Leader, the Red Wolf Lord, and the White Wolf Lord, there were ten in total.
But this youth—he was far too young. Barely twenty, if that, his face still fresh. Yet he was a peak master?
Even in the Demonic Cult, where masters were countless, only two had reached such a height in their youth:
The Heavenly Demon of legend past.
The current legend, Heavenly Demon Sword Baek Woonhoe.
And now, before their very eyes, stood another youth of the same stature.
As all reeled in shock, Pyeong-u spoke.
"Anyone who dares approach our commander—don't expect mercy from my sword."
At that instant, at a signal from Mabul's eyes, the Asura Leader shot forward like a thunderbolt.
Then Pyeong-u stamped the ground with one foot, and just as before, he exploded forth, leaving behind a fierce gust of wind.
Jjeooong!
Blue sparks erupted as their figures clashed and rebounded. In the very next instant, Pyeong-u's body twisted to the side.
Pararararak!
Another violent gale surged in his place, and from his sword tip burst a torrent of blue sword qi, splitting into dozens and raining upon the Asura Leader's form.
Buuuuung!
The Asura Leader's monstrous saber whipped up a storm, carving through the air dozens of times.
Pupupuuuuung!
The sound of sword qi detonating in the void rang out again and again, but in truth, it all happened within a single heartbeat.
And then sword and saber collided once more.
Jjeong! Shugak!
The Asura Leader's dark eyes wavered.
"I-I blocked it… I'm sure I blocked it…"
Yes, he had blocked Pyeong-u's strike. But Cheonseom—the Thousand Shards technique—moved again within the span of a split-second.
That rapid, continuous assault was unlike anything the Asura Leader had ever faced. If he had known of it, perhaps as a peak master he might have coped—but without knowledge, there was no escaping death. Such was the terrifying sword art: Cheonseom.
Thud.
The Asura Leader dropped to his knees. His neck split open, and crimson blood gushed down his chest like a flood.
A duel between two peak masters.
Yet the fight ended absurdly quickly, without resistance. As everyone stood in stunned silence, Dokgo Seol shouted.
"Commander!"
She was calling for Cheon Ryu yeong.
The horse he rode had reared and leapt sideways, startled by the sudden clash.
Fortunately, Cheon Ryu yeong managed to rein it in. But just then, several demonic cultists were rushing toward him.
"Die!"
They charged with blades raised. Some Tang Clan members even screamed—there was no one near to protect him.
At that moment, Cheon Ryu yeong pulled out a heavy pouch from his robes and swept his arm wide.
Fwiieeek.
A cloud of white powder burst out, carried by the wind to engulf the approaching cultists.
"W-what is this?"
"Just some white powder…"
"Huh?"
The cultists faltered, exchanging baffled words. And those watching—demonic leaders, Xiao Noeumsa, and the warriors of Sahwanggung—gasped sharply.
All minds flashed with the same thought—
Formless Deadly Poison.
Could it be real?
The tension was so suffocating, even the recent memory of the Asura Leader's sudden death was forgotten.
The cultists dusted in the powder began shouting in panic.
"What do we do? If we shout, it'll get into our mouths—"
"M-me too!"
"It got in my eyes—!"
Among them, one suddenly clutched his throat, his eyes bulging.
"Keurk!"
He let out a death rattle, trembling violently as blood streamed from his mouth. His collapse triggered others—falling one after another in the same gruesome way.
But they were fakes.
Actors hired by Pyeong-u. They had concealed pig bladders filled with blood in their mouths, biting down at the right moment to burst them.
Even the white horse's sudden rearing had been staged. While everyone was fixated on Pyeong-u's duel with the Asura Leader, Cheon Ryu yeong had secretly kicked the horse's flank and tugged the reins to provoke the reaction.
The seamless, convincing spectacle of demonic cultists dying in agony left the dark martial artists pale with terror.
It exists!
The Formless Deadly Poison exists!
In contrast, the Tang Clan erupted in fiery cheers.
"Wooooahhh!"
"It was real!"
"Show them the might of the Tang Clan! Avenge our fallen!"
And the truth of the white powder?
Was it really the Formless Deadly Poison? Of course not.
It was flour.
Pyeong-u, while roaming noodle shops for dumplings, had secretly procured wheat flour used for dumpling wrappers.
Buying in bulk from professional sellers would have aroused suspicion from demonic spies. So he disguised it as a quest to find the finest dumplings to serve Cheon Ryu yeong.
The power of truth is immense. Yet, across human history, lies disguised as truth have shaped the world far more.
Truth, by itself, has no meaning. What gives it power is belief.
People do not worship truth itself, but the act of believing in it. They are moved, exhilarated, enraged, and give it value.
Fake cultists, fake poison.
Real actors, real flour.
But to those present here, it was all real.
In the crucible of battle, no one asked which sect the "dead" cultists belonged to. No one sought to analyze the powder's composition. No one thought to examine the corpses.
The careful groundwork Cheon Ryu yeong had laid—casting doubt, displaying boldness, exuding composure—was now transformed into pure terror for the enemy.
And what does such terror point toward?
Death.
And to overcome terror, what must one do?
Fight to survive.
To live, one must flee this place!
At last, the small crack that had begun to spread shattered everything they had believed in.
Tang Clan Lord, Dok-su Tang Cheolhyeon, roared:
"Unleash the Formless Deadly Poison!"
Cheon Ryu yeong followed with calm authority:
"I am the commander."
"Then would you spare those who just tried to kill you? Even if I negotiate again, would they listen? They'll only flee."
Every dark martial artist's gaze turned to him, eyes filled with desperation.
With a snap, Cheon Ryu yeong opened his golden fan.
"Who said otherwise? I only said that I command."
"...?"
Then, with a cold expression, he shouted chillingly:
"Unleash the Formless Deadly Poison!"
From January to October—ten men on the rooftops answered in unison.
"By your command!"
And with blades, they ripped open the deerhide sacks.
Chwaaaak!
Across the dark sky above the training ground, a blizzard of white dust spread.
Flour. But to those ignorant of the truth—it was the Formless Deadly Poison.
"Uwaaaaagh!"
Screams erupted from all sides of the dark martial artists. Leaders and common soldiers alike, their eyes bloodshot, filled with terror.
Carried by the wind, the "Formless Deadly Poison" descended.
Death itself seemed to be falling upon them.
Chaos and panic now loomed over the field.
No order to retreat was needed.
From the very moment Cheon Ryu yeong appeared, he had declared—
"I intend to change the outcome of this battle."
Now, that prophecy had become reality.