All of you, leave through the gate we open.
The Fist King and his subordinates understood. The gate the Fist Demon spoke of was the gate of hell.
The Fist King, Ganghu, did not grow angry. Instead, an inscrutable smile formed at the corners of his mouth.
“If it is a gate you open for us, I would gladly go.”
The moment those words ended, the Fist King’s subordinates, who had been standing on all sides, launched themselves forward and gathered together.
Their momentum, honed as killing weapons, was killing intent itself, and they numbered roughly more than thirty.
The Fist Demon silently stared at that sinister momentum, then looked at Ian. His eyes seemed to say:
Do you want to try?
Ian did not answer recklessly that she would.
Her gaze turned toward the enemies. Then she asked herself.
‘Are you prepared to leap into that killing intent right now?’
At the important moments in life, or in moments of crisis.
One must not entrust decisions to impulsive emotion. There were others who would answer that question.
The first to respond was the Flying Heaven Sword Art, which she had mastered.
—Have you forgotten what martial art you learned?
The next to respond was the Sun-Moon Sword in her hand.
Wuuung.
The Sun-Moon Sword hummed softly in her grasp. Through steady communion since receiving it, it had now acknowledged her as its true master.
The last to answer was her effort.
—Even if everything in the world betrays you, effort never will.
The days when she had cut down on sleep to train flashed past.
At last, Ian answered her father’s question.
“I will try.”
It was not an emotional, impulsive answer, but the answer of the life she had lived.
At Ian’s cautious reply, the Fist Demon silently nodded.
The Ilhwa Sword Venerable imagined how this fight would unfold.
Could Ian truly win?
The answer did not come immediately. If she saw this fight as a razor-close match, the Fist Demon must see it the same way.
That was why she could tell. At this moment, the one trembling and afraid more was not Ian, but the Fist Demon. Within that blunt, fearsome face, how great a storm of emotion must be raging?
‘So win, Ian. If only for your father’s sake.’
And savor the moment when a martial artist becomes truly strong. Not by defeating a hundred people weaker than oneself, but in the very moment of defeating an opponent one cannot defeat!
Ian walked forward, her back straight.
The taut tension swelled as if it would explode. It was a fight against a beauty who could well be called the most beautiful woman under heaven, but they had no leisure to enjoy such an unusual experience.
Because the aura Ian exuded was anything but ordinary, they drew their momentum up even more fiercely.
Chaang.
Ian drew her sword with a clear ring. This was her first time facing fist artists, and many of them at once.
The moment the straight Sun-Moon Sword flashed in the sunlight—
She charged toward the enemies. When fighting many opponents, it was only natural tactics to avoid being surrounded. But Ian struck at that very blind spot and threw herself into their center.
Shiiiiik.
The instant she landed, blood sprayed from the tip of her sword as it spun in a wide arc. Everyone moved so quickly that it was impossible to tell whose blood it was.
Faster than the fists flying in from every direction, Ian thrust her sword at the enemy before her and rushed in.
Shiiik!
Just as the opponent twisted his body and threw a punch, her body rotated in the opposite direction. In that instant, her target changed.
Puuk!
Ian stabbed the enemy charging in from behind and drove forward without stopping. Even as he died, he grabbed the sword with his gauntleted hand.
Chwaaaak!
Ian’s sword split his torso sideways and cut the throat of the enemy rushing in from the side.
Seogeok!
The sharpness of the Sun-Moon Sword cut not only through human bone but even through the gauntlet he wore.
As Ian stirred up the very heart of the enemy ranks, both advantages and disadvantages arose at once.
The disadvantage was that she had to deal with enemies charging from every side, and the advantage was that her opponents could not recklessly release their astral force.
What if more than thirty people all unleashed their astral force at once to attack her?
Not only would it be difficult to evade, but the moment one strike landed, it would give all of their astral forces the chance to pour down upon her.
That was also why she had not poured out the forms of the Flying Heaven Sword Art from the very first move. She had judged that if this became a battle of astral force and internal energy, she would be at a disadvantage.
But if she was in the midst of the enemies?
Swaaaek!
Sword qi surged from her blade. The enemies could not easily fire off their astral force for fear of hitting their own allies, but she was different.
Without looking at the results of the sweeping sword qi, she slid toward the opposite side. She did not check how many were wounded or killed by her sword qi.
As if she were moving according to a predetermined sequence, there was no hesitation in any of her actions.
Papapapapak!
Through the spraying blood, Ian’s sword-light flashed with terrifying brilliance.
An arm that had aimed for her head was severed, and the fist of another who flew in to avenge it cut only through empty air. Ian was already surging toward yet another enemy.
Paaang! Paang!
Fists flew in from all directions as if lumps of iron had been fired.
Her form wove through the fists. She fought with the resolve not to be hit even once. The moment she took a proper blow, it could all simply end.
One of the enemies rushed in, trying to burrow into her body and knock her down.
Puk, puk, puk!
Stabbing his chest in succession, she twisted her body as though throwing him backward.
The attack that had been flying at her from behind struck the corpse.
This time, they rushed in from both sides. Their thinking was that if they could somehow grab her and bring her down, it would be over. It was an absurd tactic against an expert like Ian, but they too were masters capable of unleashing fist astral force.
As if playing tag, she employed her footwork and slipped through between them.
Each time her sword embroidered the air, flesh was cut and blood sprayed.
Ian was truly fast and strong. Because she was fighting in a state of selfless immersion, she did not realize just how well she was fighting right now.
Rather, what tormented her most was not the fists, but the blood. Blood splattering in every direction. Her greatest fear was that the blood splashed onto her face might get into her eyes.
It was a worry she had never once had before experiencing this kind of fight.
As the number of enemies decreased, her battle began to grow more difficult. The enemies, who had been pressing her with numbers, now formed a proper formation and fought.
Kwang! Kwaaang!
And now the enemies too began to hurl fist astral force. The astral force released from their fists poured toward her. They no longer cared even if their own allies were behind her.
Kwang! Kwaang!
The astral forces they fired collided with one another. They intended to crush Ian between astral force and astral force.
Peoeok!
After allowing a single blow, her form slid backward. If her protective astral qi had been even a little late, it would have had enough power to shatter her five viscera and six bowels. Those who had survived were the stronger ones. They had survived because they were strong.
Her internal energy was also gradually running out. With this much internal energy, she had been confident she could face anyone. But it was not enough to kill all thirty-some subordinates of the Fist King, who were even wearing gauntlets.
Puaaaak!
Ian fought frantically, drenched in blood. Dodging the incoming fists, she rolled across the ground.
Like a tenacious fighter who would rise clutching even a stone if she fell, she rolled along the floor and cut an ankle.
Paaaaa!
She drove her sword into the chest of the fallen enemy, and when she pulled it free, blood surged up like a fountain.
She had become a complete blood-soaked figure. There was no elegance in this fight. It was a true fight, filled only with killing intent as each side tried to kill the other.
Neither the Fist Demon’s side nor the Fist King’s side interfered in this battle. As Ian grew more and more exhausted, the Ilhwa Sword Venerable became even tenser than the Fist Demon.
The Ilhwa Sword Venerable looked at the Fist Demon.
‘Remarkable.’
He must surely be worrying several times more than she was. And yet he was not stepping in, wishing for Ian to overcome this fight on her own.
She thought that if it were her, she would not have been able to just stand by and watch like this.
‘You have never even raised a child, so how can you endure so well?’
The young man with red bandages wrapped around him looked at the Fist King. His gaze seemed to ask whether he should not step in when their subordinates were all dying, but the Fist King showed no reaction.
The Fist King did not regret the deaths of his subordinates at all. His eyes seemed to say that if they could not even kill one girl like that, they might as well all die.
Among the two experts who had come with Red Bandages, the man holding a sword to his chest furrowed his brow.
It was a style of fighting he would absolutely never choose. Watching as one’s subordinates were killed off? He could not understand it.
Was fighting a game? Was life a game? They should all have joined in and created a melee. That way, they should have secured their numerical advantage.
Now, only Ian’s rough breathing echoed through the place.
“Haa, haa, haa.”
Only then did Ian’s eyes take in the scene around her. It was truly a complete sea of blood, and all the other enemies had collapsed as corpses. She could not even remember how she had killed them.
Now only four enemies remained.
Those four were certain of victory.
“You vicious bitch. Your internal energy has finally run out.”
Their faces were appalled. When this fight began, they had truly never imagined it would become a battle with only the four of them left.
“Don’t tell me you’re hoping for help at this point.”
Ian’s rough breathing subsided.
“Yes, my internal energy is gone.”
A meaningful sentence was added.
“Except for just enough to execute one form.”
The next instant, the Sun-Moon Sword rose before her chest.
Chwarrrrk.
In an instant, the Sun-Moon Sword began to split.
Four blades of sword qi in the shape of the Sun-Moon Sword.
Flying Heaven Sword Art, Seventh Form: Flowing Heaven Form.
Swaaaaaaaaa!
The sword qi shot out like light in four directions, piercing through their hearts.
Peok! Peok! Peoeok! Peoeok!
The joy of having won lasted only a moment.
The man who had held a sword against his chest suddenly launched a surprise attack. His target was Ian.
‘If this young bitch is already this formidable…’
He could not even guess how difficult the fight against the Demon Venerables would become. That was why he intended to eliminate even this woman before his eyes before proceeding to the next battle.
Shiiiiing.
The sword that had been held to his chest was now in the man’s hand, and the blade was flying toward Ian’s neck.
There was no internal energy left in Ian’s body. And the man’s attack was too fast for her to block without internal energy.
At that very moment.
Huk!
A short sound of wind rang out, as if a candle had been blown out.
A single streak of sword-light flashed and split the air.
Seogeok.
Ian saw it. The sword that had been about to cut her had stopped in midair.
A red diagonal line began to form on the man’s face, then passed his jaw and continued down his body.
Jjiiik.
The man’s body began to shift along that red line.
Seureureuk.
Along the bloodline cut diagonally across him, the man’s body began to slide apart.
Was it because he had been cut too quickly, or too sharply? Not even blood flowed from the severed cross-section.
Only when the body split in half and fell to the ground did blood finally surge out.
Beyond the spraying blood, the back of one person could be seen.
The one who had charged in as swiftly as light and cut him down was none other than the Ilhwa Sword Venerable.
From the tip of the Ilhwa Sword in her hand—
Ttok.
Only a single drop of blood fell.
Her sword felt as though it were alive. The keen edge flowing along the blade was like the cold breath exhaled by the sword itself.
When she extended her hand, the Sun-Moon Sword embedded far away in the wall flew toward her through void-seizing retrieval.
Receiving the sword, the Ilhwa Sword Venerable handed the Sun-Moon Sword to Ian.
“It was a splendid fight.”
The Ilhwa Sword Venerable could tell. This fight had become an opportunity for Ian to grow once again. Even if one wandered the Central Plains for a lifetime searching for villains, chances to have a fight like this would not come easily.
Ian, soaked in blood from head to toe, respectfully received the sword. At the Sword Venerable’s words that it had been a splendid fight, her eyes reddened for no reason. After fighting so well. Don’t cry! There are still enemies left!
“I will never forget the grace of saving my life. Thank you.”
She would have been better off not looking back.
The moment her eyes met the Fist Demon standing behind her, the tears she had been holding back flowed down. The moment she saw her father’s face looking at her, she could no longer endure it. Whether enemies remained or not, whether she looked weak or not, she could not stop the tears from falling.
They were tears of joy that she had not betrayed her father’s faith.
The Fist Demon silently nodded to her. He said nothing, but to Ian, that was enough.
Because she could feel, with her whole body, the deep affection contained in that nod of her father’s head.
For a moment, silence flowed through the place.
The Fist King, his face expressionless, was staring their way, impossible to read.
The next person to step forward was Ghost Blade. As he walked out, he looked at the fallen man’s corpse and said,
“He was not someone who should have died so pointlessly.”
Ghost Blade stared at the Ilhwa Sword Venerable and asked,
“Do you know who it is you killed?”
At his question, the Ilhwa Sword Venerable slowly turned toward him.
A cold yet elegant aura flowed from her body.
If the aura of the Sword King she had shown Geom Mugeuk earlier had been filled with hundreds and thousands of blades in every direction, the aura of the Ilhwa Sword Venerable was the opposite.
A single sword.
It felt as though that solitary sword was aimed directly before one’s eyes.
That was the aura of the Ilhwa Sword Venerable.
“I have no interest in who he was.”
The Ilhwa Sword Venerable gazed at her opponent with those lonely, profound eyes and spoke calmly.
“So do not bother telling me at length who you are, either.”