Mabul was not merely flustered; he was dumbfounded.
It was shocking enough that he had entered the wall, but now he had become a painting.
He had once heard of a Dark Painting Art, a sorcery that used paintings to cast evil spells. But this was the first time he had experienced it himself.
Mabul looked around. A white space, empty as an artist’s canvas. Everything was so utterly white that even his sense of distance grew dull.
And from here, he could see outside. There was a transparent membrane between where he stood and the outside world, but even when he pressed it with his hand, it would not give.
Thud.
He struck out with a palm to break through and escape, but the force vanished straight into the transparent membrane. He could tell by feel. Unless he found the method to undo it, there was no way he could break through this membrane by force.
Outside, he saw Chwima stab the man with closed eyes with a dagger.
But it did not work, and he saw the painting of the man inside the wall open its eyes and charge toward him.
He could see Chwima in the outside world saying something, but he could not hear the sound. He could only see with his eyes; this was a space thoroughly separated from that place.
After clashing once with the bastard, he completed his hand seal.
Mabul was certain he could dispose of him with this one move.
There was no way he could avoid the Killing Dharma Seal unleashed from such close range.
And in the next instant!
Mabul was startled. His body stopped. The Killing Dharma Seal he had unleashed also stopped in midair. In that moment, everything had truly become a painting.
The only fortunate thing was that his opponent had stopped as well. As if he, too, retained his consciousness just like Mabul, the man’s eyes looked toward him and smiled.
Ssk, ssk, ssk.
A pitch-black hole was drawn in front of Mabul’s astral force.
Once the painting was complete, his astral force vanished into the passage of darkness.
Then something even more astonishing unfolded.
That Killing Dharma Seal attacked Chwima outside.
“No!”
Chwima failed to dodge in time and was swept up by the astral force, sent flying all the way into the far wall.
Mabul stared out of the painting with a shocked face. Meanwhile, Amheuk Hwaryeong smiled playfully, enjoying the situation.
Fortunately, he saw Chwima spring back to his feet. It seemed he had raised his protective art to its limit and prepared himself.
Mabul and Chwima’s eyes met.
When Chwima nodded with an expression that said he was fine, Mabul felt relieved.
‘This isn’t good.’
What if his attacks flew toward Chwima?
In that case, he could not use any decisive grand techniques at critical moments. This fight was far too disadvantageous.
Instead of using the Golden Great Lama Art, Mabul resolved to face him with ordinary attacks.
‘I’ll kill him with basic skill!’
Mabul overwhelmed him in terms of ability. If this had not been an unfavorable fight inside a painting, the bastard would already have fallen as a corpse.
But the bastard was not only capable of drawing dark passages that spat attacks into the outside world.
His way of fighting was utterly unique.
Saaak!
A black line was drawn as if a brush had swept across the air.
Mabul twisted his body and dodged. What brushed past him was black sword energy.
Saaak, saaaak.
As if an artist were painting orchids across a canvas, sword energy cut cleanly through the space.
As Mabul retreated to avoid the attacks, prayer beads shot from his hand.
Swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish!
It was a broad attack that had even anticipated where he would dodge.
Drop.
Between the two of them, a dot formed as though a single drop of ink had fallen, and then ink began spreading outward from that point.
All the flying prayer beads were sucked into the ink.
His opponent attacked using paintings. And above all, this space was his canvas.
‘On top of that, the Greed-Heart Great Annihilation Art is spread throughout this entire ship, making this man’s sorcery several times stronger!’
As it fed on the gamblers’ intense greed, the energy of darkness was growing even stronger.
At that moment, Mabul looked up at a chilling sensation.
Before he knew it, red astral force had intertwined into a strange shape and was floating in the air.
Whoooooosh.
Boom!
The red astral force slammed straight down.
Mabul threw himself aside to avoid it and realized what that red astral force was. It was a seal mark stamped onto a painting.
Boom! Booooom!
The seal marks fell one after another, and Mabul used dazzling footwork to slip out of their attacks.
Because they were manifested through painting, they looked playful and grotesque, but if they actually struck him, they were powerful attacks that would inflict serious injury.
Mabul dodged his opponent’s attacks and surged forward. Just as he rushed right up to him and was about to tear out his throat—
Once again, Mabul stopped like a painting. His opponent had stopped as well and was looking at Mabul, smiling.
Ssk, ssk, ssk.
As the painting was drawn, a tremendous wind suddenly swept in and blew Mabul away.
Whoooooosh.
The distance between him and the bastard widened again.
“Damn it!”
This fight was more troublesome than any fight he had ever fought.
“I’d heard all kinds of rumors about how amazing the Eight Demon Venerables were, but you’re nothing special, are you?”
At Amheuk Hwaryeong’s mockery, Mabul calmly replied.
“I’ve never had much interest in paintings. If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve painted instead of sculpting.”
It was a situation that could have made him impatient, but Mabul remained composed. If he lost his temper at a time like this, he would truly lose.
“Mabul, you will remain with me forever.”
With those cryptic words, Amheuk Hwaryeong took something from his robes.
Several scrolls emerged.
When he unfurled one of them, the figure of a martial artist appeared. It was drawn only in ink, with neither his complexion nor the color of his clothes filled in.
The expression on his outstretched face was engulfed in rage and despair.
One could feel that it was the final moment before his death.
The martial artist inside another scroll was the same. This time, the image of him begging for his life was captured exactly as it was.
Amheuk Hwaryeong took out a blank scroll. Even its border was more splendid than the others; it was a golden scroll.
“I’ll put you in this one specially.”
“Make sure you draw me more handsome than I am in real life.”
When Mabul continued to act at ease, a sneer formed at the corner of Amheuk Hwaryeong’s mouth.
“You’re relying on that drunkard over there.”
Amheuk Hwaryeong looked at Chwima outside the painting. Mabul looked that way as well.
Beyond the transparent membrane, he could see Chwima. He was smashing the boxes in that place. It seemed he was searching for the method to break the spell.
Judging by Amheuk Hwaryeong’s relaxed expression, the method was not there.
“Aren’t you curious what the method to break it is?”
Mabul looked at Chwima and said,
“He’ll find it. He’s smarter than he looks.”
Before fighting again, Mabul asked as if something had been bothering him.
“But why did you choose me instead of him?”
He had seemed relaxed enough to answer anything, but he did not answer that question.
“You’ll hear all about it later inside this scroll.”
* * *
“There is definitely a way to break it.”
Chwima smashed every box in that place to pieces. He had thought there might be some clue inside that could break the spell.
There was nothing inside.
Chwima knew. The more splendid and powerful a sorcery was, the simpler and closer at hand its method of undoing tended to be.
‘Think! You drunkard, use your head!’
But no matter how much he looked around, there was nothing that seemed like it could be the key.
This time, he ran to the wall and placed his hand against it. He searched to see whether anything was inside, and he even tried injecting internal energy into it.
But there was nothing strange about this wall, which had become the stage of the fight.
Chwima looked at Mabul, who was fighting on the opposite wall.
Even in this moment, Mabul was trying to avoid incoming palm force when his entire body was suddenly trapped by thorny vines.
The instant Chwima saw him, his heart sank.
It was not because Mabul had taken a palm strike due to the thorny vines.
The color of his body had grown fainter than before. Not only was the golden radiance losing its light, but even the color of his clothes was gradually fading.
By instinct, Chwima felt that once Mabul lost all his color, he would die.
‘As time passes, he’s becoming a real painting.’
Chwima grew desperate. He flew up to the ceiling and examined it. He hoped something might be hidden there, but there was nothing strange about the ceiling either.
In the end, Chwima carried out what he had been hesitating over.
Boom.
Unable to find any other method, Chwima broke part of the wall.
The moment a hole appeared in the wall—
An earthquake struck the ground where Mabul stood, and the floor shook beneath his feet. Enormous boulders poured down from overhead. As Mabul threw himself aside to avoid them, fireballs rained down on him.
Seeing Mabul barely escape, Chwima swept a hand over his chest.
He had confirmed that he must not forcefully break the wall.
Mabul did not give up and continued fighting.
But whenever his attacks were about to land properly, he would become a painting and stop.
A wall was erected in front of Mabul’s fist, and even steel spikes were embedded in that wall. Those spikes were drawn sharply right in front of Mabul’s fist.
Chwima ran over and shouted at Amheuk Hwaryeong, who had stopped along with him.
“You cowardly bastard! Enough!”
Chwima raised his fist high. He intended to blow away the entire section where the bastard was drawn.
But he could not.
Even making a hole in a distant wall had caused that chaos; the moment he struck this bastard, he felt everything would be over.
‘It’s a trap.’
If he did that, Mabul might never be able to escape.
Once the painting was drawn, the two moved again.
Unable to stop the force of his charge, Mabul’s fist shattered the steel spikes and broke the wall behind them. Though it was a blow infused with internal energy, Mabul’s skin tore and blood flowed down.
That man, too, had to be consuming a tremendous amount of internal energy each time he painted. Yet the reason he could endure like this was—
‘The Greed-Heart Great Annihilation Art is sustaining him.’
Meanwhile, the color drained completely from Mabul’s legs, turning them ink-black.
Then Mabul could no longer move.
Chwima ran in front of Mabul. Chwima’s grief and rage were transmitted even beyond the membrane.
Mabul, on the other hand, said something with calm eyes.
Though Chwima could not hear the sound, he understood. Just from Mabul’s expression, he could tell what he was saying.
“Leave this place.”
And one more sentence followed.
“Take care of the Young Cult Leader.”
Mabul’s expression looked peaceful, like an enlightened high monk. Since meeting Mabul, had Chwima ever seen such a peaceful face on him?
Mabul brought his hands together in prayer. He meant to end his final moment with that peaceful gesture.
‘Eldest Young Master, I am sorry I could not serve you to the end.’
Chwima had never felt such despair before.
He truly had not imagined he would lose Mabul like this.
And in that moment, Chwima thought of one person.
‘I’m sorry, Mugeuk.’
How good would it have been if Geom Mugeuk had been here?
If it were Mugeuk, he would surely have found the method to break it. And after smashing that bastard to pieces, he would have said this: Even if I painted with my foot, I’d paint better than you.
‘Why Mabul and not me? If only it had been me instead!’
In the next instant, Chwima flinched.
‘That’s right. Why was it Mabul? I was the one who cursed at the painting, too.’
The next instant!
A thought flashed through Chwima’s mind like a bolt of lightning.
‘Don’t tell me?’
Chwima pounded on the wall and shouted.
“Attack one last time! With the strongest attack you have, Mabul!”
Since his words would not be heard, Chwima mimed forming hand seals in front of Mabul.
Mabul’s eyes widened in surprise.
Attack?
Chwima raised his palm high, then mimed striking it down to the floor.
Mabul understood which technique he was telling him to use.
‘But that move will fall on you.’
Chwima looked at him and nodded.
‘Trust me and do it.’
What filled Chwima’s eyes was not a plea for him to struggle at least once before death.
Mabul’s lower body could not move, and the ink-black color was gradually spreading up to his upper body.
Now there was only one chance.
His hands came apart from prayer, and Mabul began forming hand seals with both hands. Drawing up every last bit of internal energy, he unleashed a single move.
Golden Great Lama Art.
Demon Palm Annihilating Seal!
The strongest move of the Golden Great Lama Art.
Amheuk Hwaryeong wore an expression that said, Go ahead and try.
Whooooooooong!
The enormous palm of a Buddha statue emitted golden radiance and struck down at Amheuk Hwaryeong.
In the next instant, that enormous palm stopped above Amheuk Hwaryeong’s head.
Ssk, ssk, ssk.
In the meantime, a passage of darkness began to be drawn once more.
The Dark Painting Spirit was already smiling brightly before the movement even came to a stop. The Drunken Demon would never be able to withstand this powerful technique.
It was at that very moment. The Drunken Demon gulped down liquor.
Then he spat it at the pitch-black hole being drawn between the palm and the head.
Splashhhhh.
It was no ordinary liquor. It was powerful wine qi imbued with the Drunken Demon’s internal energy.
“Nothing beats liquor when it comes to erasing a painting!”
“!”
The wine qi soaked fully into the painting, and as the Drunken Demon dashed left and right, he wiped it away with his sleeve. The pitch-black hole was erased by the Drunken Demon’s liquor.
At the very instant shock filled the Dark Painting Spirit’s eyes.
‘No!’
The world within the painting began to move again.
The enormous palm struck the Dark Painting Spirit down.
Kuwaaaaaang!
The Dark Painting Spirit tried to withstand the Demon Palm Annihilation crushing down on him, but it was nothing more than a mantis opposing a cartwheel.
Crack-crack-crack-crack.
His body was shattered to pieces by the enormous palm-shaped gang qi.
“Uaaaaaaaaaagh!”
Kuuuuung!
A moment later, when the Demon Palm Annihilation that had struck the floor vanished, only a trace remained in the huge handprint.
Only stains of paint in every color, flattened and spread out in all directions.
The next moment.
Sssssssss.
The lower half of the Demon Buddha, which had turned ink-black, began returning to its original color.
Just as it regained its color completely and seemed to change from a painting back into a person.
Thud.
The wall spat the Demon Buddha out.
Once the Demon Buddha emerged safely from the wall, the tension left the Drunken Demon, and he plopped down where he stood.
The Demon Buddha also let out a sigh and sat down beside him.
For a while, neither of them said anything. They did not say that they had suffered greatly, nor did they say thank you. They had seen each other’s hearts without needing words.
The heart of the Demon Buddha, who had told him to go on ahead.
And the heart of the Drunken Demon, who had stayed until the end to protect the Demon Buddha.
The Drunken Demon handed the wine flask at his waist to the Demon Buddha.
The Demon Buddha looked down at the flask in his hand for a moment, then returned it to the Drunken Demon.
“Save this precious liquor and drink it yourself.”
Only now could the Demon Buddha understand clearly.
Why the enemy had chosen him instead of the Drunken Demon.
The method to break this monstrous Dark Painting Art was far too simple. It was water.
Since the opponent was a painting, realizing that he had to be erased was itself the method of breaking it. Perhaps if even a single drop of water had touched that fellow’s body, this evil art would have been undone. If there was no water, one would have to use one’s own blood.
The Drunken Demon had liquor, and above all, the wine qi that protected him was, in the end, made of water.
From the beginning, that bastard could not have fought the Drunken Demon. In terms of compatibility, he was far too weak against the Drunken Demon. Perhaps after killing him, he would never have dealt with the Drunken Demon at all.
After circulating their qi and recovering their internal energy, the two opened the door at the end of that space.
Beyond the door, an even deeper darkness awaited them. The Demon Buddha revealed a golden radiance and stepped in first.
“When we return, I’ll buy you a drink of good liquor.”
Following him in, the Drunken Demon smiled and said,
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
It would be the first drink he had ever gotten from the Demon Buddha.