He felt a chill run down his spine in astonishment.
“Im-impossible. It’s only been a little over ten years since he escaped from Sorim Temple. To think he could have mastered such formidable martial arts in that time...”
The tide of battle was turning against him so clearly that it was obvious at a glance. Even wielding tiger claws, a short weapon rarely used among warriors because of its limited reach, his opponent was overwhelmingly pressing him back.
In particular, the fact that the sword qi dwelling in his own blade was gradually losing its light left Jang Heonsu with no choice but to be horrified. In other words, it meant his opponent’s internal energy surpassed his own. For Jang Heonsu, who had cultivated qigong for a full forty years, it was truly beyond belief.
“I... I simply can’t believe this.”
Even setting aside the difference in internal energy, the tiger claw art his opponent was displaying was an utterly tyrannical martial art. Once he seized the momentum, his attacks came crashing in like a storm, giving Jang Heonsu no chance even to catch his breath.
Clang.
At the crossroads of life and death, Jang Heonsu barely managed to block the tiger claws thrusting straight toward him. But his sword became caught between the claws. Stricken with shock, Jang Heonsu hurriedly tried to pull his sword free. Yet a satisfied smile had already spread across his opponent’s face...
Since ancient times, among short weapons, the one said to be most incompatible with the sword was none other than the tiger claw. The tiger claw was a type of unconventional weapon fitted with five fixed claws, or blades, and because it was worn on the hand, it had the advantage of extremely fluid movement.
In particular, by trapping a blade between the claws and twisting, it could easily snap a sword, and so warriors who used tiger claws had long been considered opponents that swordsmen had to be wary of.
The problem was that against a warrior above a certain level—in other words, one who could draw forth sword qi or sword aura—using tiger claws did not guarantee an advantage. A sword imbued with aura could not be broken even if the tiger claws twisted it. Rather, in most cases, the tiger claws would be shattered by the aura dwelling in the sword. Because of that, among the renowned masters of the murim, warriors who used tiger claws were rare. And yet before Jang Heonsu had appeared a warrior who used tiger claws—one skilled enough to draw aura into them, no less.
Paah!
Out of nowhere, a sword went flying into the air. His palm torn open, Jang Heonsu staggered backward in a daze. The moment his sword was caught between the claws, he had poured extreme aura into it to prevent it from breaking. As expected, his opponent twisted the tiger claws with force. Of course, thanks to the aura, the sword did not break.
But the strength with which his opponent twisted the tiger claws far exceeded his expectations, and unable to withstand it, Jang Heonsu’s grip tore open and he lost hold of his sword. Sensing his opponent rushing in, Jang Heonsu desperately threw himself aside. But that was the last thing he remembered...
Thud, thud, thud.
With a dull sensation, Jang Heonsu felt the flesh at the nape of his neck being torn away in chunks, and then he lost consciousness. His eyes were wide open, as if he simply could not believe it.
“Hoo.”
After letting out a long breath, Dokgo Seong glanced at Jang Heonsu’s sprawled corpse, then launched himself forward. His destination was the rear garden area, where the key figures of the Moyong Clan had gathered.
Amid the fierce clash of swords, warriors who had met their end collapsed here and there. Most of them, of course, were warriors of the Moyong Clan. Those who had tightly surrounded the clan and were launching their attack were all black-clad warriors with the emblem of Asura embroidered on their chests. Most of them were young warriors in their mid-to-late twenties.
“We... we’re outmatched.”
The head of the Moyong Clan let out a bitter groan. He simply could not believe they were being pushed back so severely by Baegyo’s warriors. And by such green youngsters, at that...
When Baegyo’s Guardian Demon King Corps had advanced on the Moyong Clan, he had been left dumbfounded. The Guardian Demon King Corps was a force that gathered all of Baegyo’s rising talents, its elite in both name and reality. Yet as the situation did not allow them to flee, he had first evacuated the women and children of the clan to a safe place. Then he sent a messenger to request aid from the Murim Alliance.
Not long afterward, the clash began. Though the Guardian Demon King Corps numbered only three hundred, the seven hundred warriors of the Moyong Clan were no match for them from the very start.
After barely enduring a battle that could almost be called a one-sided massacre, he had gained at least some hope of victory when reinforcements from the Hwasan Sect arrived just a short while earlier. But even after the reinforcements joined, the battle situation showed little sign of improving...
Seeing new Baegyo warriors continuously joining the battle from the direction of the main gate, Moyong Jin could vaguely guess that even the Hwasan Sect reinforcements had failed to hold out.
In the typical methods of raising warriors, the righteous path and the demonic path differed greatly. The righteous path chose a sequential method of gradually improving martial arts, while the demonic path chose accelerated methods that could raise one’s martial prowess in a short period of time. Generally speaking.
And after long verification, those methods had been firmly established in each sect. The difference was plainly revealed in the abilities of their warriors.
In general, lower-ranked disciples of the orthodox sects were markedly inferior in their martial cultivation compared to warriors of the demonic path. Assuming the same period of training, warriors of the demonic path were far superior in terms of martial achievement. However, once they reached a certain level, this was reversed.
Though they achieved rapid improvement by choosing accelerated methods, warriors of the demonic path no longer progressed in martial arts once they reached a certain point. This was called the wall of the demon, or the limit.
But the disciples of the orthodox sects were different. Even if their achievements did not stand out visibly, warriors of the righteous path who had trained steadily for a long time could pass through each stage’s wall with relative ease. In other words, their chances of surpassing their limits and reaching the peak realm were vastly higher than those of demonic-path warriors. Thus, while the number of warriors was greater among the unorthodox sects, the orthodox sects maintained a far superior advantage when it came to the number of masters who surpassed the peak level. This could be called the greatest factor maintaining the balance between the righteous path and the unorthodox path.
In that regard, the head of the Moyong Clan, Moyong Bulhwi, was a man who could well be called someone who had surpassed the peak level. Though he was not at the transcendent peak, he was an unrivaled master who had approached the utmost peak to a certain degree. Yet even with such skill, he was currently unable to handle ten members of the Guardian Demon King Corps. That was how thoroughly versed in combined attack techniques the men blocking him were.
“You bastards.”
At the sight of his warriors dying without pause, Moyong Bulhwi’s eyes blazed as he swung his sword. His beloved blade scattered dense aura as it swept out in all directions. But the black-clad warriors surrounding him blocked the aura assault without much difficulty, then assumed their stances once more.
Because they surrounded him on all sides, he could not focus his attack in any one direction, leaving Moyong Bulhwi in an extremely difficult position. His opponents had clearly come fully prepared to deal with a master of his caliber.
“What exactly are they scheming?”
Of course, he could not break through the encirclement, but they likewise could not attack him. If he were to face a warrior of their level one-on-one, Moyong Bulhwi had the skill to cut off his head within five moves. Yet the bastards showed no intention of attacking him at all and merely maintained the encirclement. By tying down Moyong Bulhwi like this, the Guardian Demon King Corps were mercilessly slaughtering the clan warriors of lesser skill. For that reason, Moyong Bulhwi’s heart grew unbearably urgent.
“Guh...!”
A familiar scream suddenly rang out. When he turned his head, he saw his nephew, Moyong Hyeondo, lose his life and collapse. It would have been enough to make him lose his reason, but he forced himself to regain control. On a battlefield, killing and being killed were commonplace. Moyong Bulhwi knew all too well that losing his composure over such a thing would only make matters more dangerous.
He turned his head again. Though Moyong Bulhwi had shown a slight opening, not a single one of the Guardian Demon King Corps surrounding him dared to attack. In the distance, he saw his son, Moyong Jin, fighting with all his might. Though he looked precarious, Moyong Jin was holding out well enough.
“Still, that boy trained at Sorim Temple. He won’t be taken down so easily.”
Moyong Bulhwi tried somehow to break through the encirclement and retreat. Though they had lost many warriors, if his son Moyong Jin remained safe, the rebuilding of the Moyong Clan would only be a matter of time. For an instant, a film of tears passed across Moyong Bulhwi’s eyes.
“My son. Please grow into a peerless master who surpasses this father of yours.”
In his eyes, Moyong Jin was an endlessly proud son. A son who had passed the notoriously difficult examination to become a lay disciple of Sorim Temple without trouble. A proud son who, after training for ten years at Sorim Temple, had obtained skill sufficient to rank among the top ten of the rising talents and easily joined the admired Hoten Guardian Corps.
Though he had come to help the family after learning of the Guardian Demon King Corps’ attack, even in the midst of the melee he was capable of taking care of himself.
As long as he survived, Moyong Bulhwi would have no regrets even if he died here. Just then, something unexpected suddenly occurred. The Guardian Demon King Corps members who had been surrounding him abruptly dissolved their encirclement as smoothly as flowing water.
‘Have these bastards gone mad?’
Without even time to show his surprise, Moyong Bulhwi tried to launch himself toward where his son was. The overall tide had already turned beyond recovery. Now was the time to escape by any means possible and plan for the future. Yet a small figure blocked his path...
“Where do you think you’re going, Clan Head Moyong?”
“Hm? You are...?”
Seeing the small black-clad man blocking his way while wearing dark, murky tiger claws, Moyong Bulhwi was startled. Of course, Moyong Bulhwi was also well aware of his opponent’s identity. His appearance was so distinctive that one could guess it at a glance.
“Dokgo Seong. You wicked bastard. How dare you attack our clan?”
“If you have the leisure to curse, why not worry about preserving your own life?”
Dokgo Seong, the greatest unfilial wretch under heaven, gripped his tiger claws without mercy and charged in. From the way he rushed forward, pouring out dense killing intent, one could tell at a glance that he was a demonic man steeped in devilry to the bone.
Moyong Bulhwi, too, immediately abandoned his thought of planning for the future and engaged him in battle. It was a decision made partly because he did not completely lack the mindset of looking down on his opponent, and partly because he judged that eliminating him would be the perfect opportunity to raise the honor of his clan.
But Moyong Bulhwi soon realized why the Guardian Demon King Corps had not attacked him and had merely tied him down. The opponent dismantled with ease the attacks of Moyong Bulhwi, who prided himself on having reached the peak realm. Then he counterattacked like a storm.
Faced with his opponent’s incomprehensible skill, Moyong Bulhwi could not help but be stunned. In the span of only ten years, Dokgo Seong—who was known to have understood not even the first thing about martial arts—had grown into a supreme master who surpassed him.
“H-how can this be...?”
Moyong Bulhwi never dreamed that the martial art which had caused Dokgo Seong’s explosive growth was the infamous Cheonja Blood Demon Art.
The Cheonja Blood Demon Art. A martial art created two hundred years ago by Baegyo’s cult leader Dongbang Ryeon, and until now, the only person ever to learn it had been Dongbang Ryeon himself.
At the time, Baegyo had been engaged in a bloody struggle with the Demon Cult, the sovereign of the demonic path, and it was the darkest period in Baegyo’s history. In particular, because their opponents were masters of the Demon Cult who had refined terrifying demonic arts, Baegyo was driven by repeated defeats to the brink of destruction.
Back then, Baegyo was under the command of the Thousand-Handed Blood Demon, Dongbang Ryeon, and in order to prevent the sect’s annihilation, he made a difficult decision. That decision was to cultivate a peerless martial art that had been passed down only in theory.
Though the method was fully possible in theory, and though learning the martial art had the drawback of causing one to lose one’s humanity as time passed, Dongbang Ryeon ultimately resolved to sacrifice himself in order to save the sect from destruction. And thus, the Cheonja Blood Demon Art was born.
He sacrificed a thousand boys and girls he had secretly kidnapped, completing the Heavenly Blood Demon Art
in a mere thousand days. After faithfully absorbing the blood essence of one boy or girl each and every day, this cursed
martial art came into being. As a result, Dongfang Lian was able to save the crisis-ridden Baegyo
based on the Heavenly Blood Demon Art.
The warriors of Baegyo rallied around Dongfang Lian and annihilated the Demonic Cult's elite warriors in the final battle
in one fell swoop. At that time, Dongfang Lian displayed unbelievable might, single-handedly slaying more than ten elders of the Demonic Cult. Of course, this was thanks to the overwhelming power of the Heavenly Blood Demon Art.
But the true crisis came after that...
After defeating the Demonic Cult, Baegyo finally secured a foundation to rise as a powerful sect.
However, in the midst of that process, Dongfang Lian, who had been running around tirelessly, suddenly went mad. It was
because the demonic nature of the Heavenly Blood Demon Art had burrowed deep into his very marrow.
From then on, Dongfang Lian became a murderous fiend completely drenched in blood. Unable to recognize a single
family member or subordinate, Dongfang Lian began slaughtering indiscriminately. Countless warriors of Baegyo rushed forth
to stop him at the time, yet not one could stand against him. Having transformed into a blood fiend, Dongfang Lian
butchered innumerable warriors before escaping the main stronghold. The dead at that time were too numerous to count.
In the end, Baegyo could no longer bear it and had no choice but to reveal the secret related to Dongfang Lian
through tears.
When the fact that Dongfang Lian had sacrificed a thousand boys and girls to grow stronger became known, the entire martial world
trembled in horror. Moreover, as the escaped Dongfang Lian continued to take lives, an annihilation order encompassing the entire
martial world was inevitably issued for him.
Regardless of faction, an Annihilation Squad was formed, and he finally met his end under the siege of countless warriors.
But the price was by no means light. Roughly half of the warriors who joined the Annihilation Squad
lost their lives at Dongfang Lian's hands.
Once the situation was barely brought under control, Baegyo widely declared to the entire sect that the Heavenly Blood Demon Art would be abolished, and announced that even the sect leader would not be forgiven if they learned this martial art.
Thanks to that, the martial world was finally able to quiet down... This was the secret history surrounding the cursed
demonic art, the Heavenly Blood Demon Art. Yet here, another figure who had mastered the Heavenly Blood Demon Art
appeared...
"Uuaaaack."
Murong Buhui, who had been barely holding on, was ultimately unable to withstand the power of the Heavenly Blood Demon Art and
let out a final death cry. His left chest, where his heart was, was completely torn open, spraying blood
like a fountain. The flesh of the Murong patriarch, now bereft of life, fell limply onto the
ground. At the same time he collapsed, a despairing voice resounded from over there.
"Father."
A fierce light shot from the eyes of Murong Jin, who had been watching for an opportunity to escape from over there. What
son could remain still after witnessing his father's death? He exerted all his strength to break through the encirclement.
The moment the Baegyo warriors blocking his path hesitated and fell back, he ruthlessly flung himself forward.
His target was the diminutive man in black who had killed his father.
"Die, you bastard!"
The longsword pressing in as it drew a brilliant sword light was enveloped in a distinct blue sword qi. The blade
dug toward the man in black's back in a straight line. But the opponent blocked the attack far too simply and then spun
his body around. The moment he saw the man in black's face, Murong Jin's eyes grew as wide as flower
lanterns.
"Y-you...?"
"It has been far too long."
Standing there was Dugu Xing, wearing a cold smile. Murong Jin simply could not come to his
senses. Of course, he was one of those who knew Dugu Xing's true identity better than anyone.
"H-how can this be?"
"What? Can you not believe that I have grown strong?"
The events of their youth rose clearly in their minds. They were anecdotes that brought forth an uncontrollable thirst
for vengeance in Dugu Xing. Of course, Murong Jin could not possibly believe the situation was real. At the time when
Murong Jin had been wholly devoted to training at the Shaolin Temple, Dugu Xing had been nothing but a menial servant doing chores. An
ugly wretch who didn't even know the basics of martial arts. To think that such a person had grown into a supreme master strong enough to slay his father in a one-on-one duel...
Killing intent gradually thickened in Dugu Xing's eyes. Thanks to mastering the Heavenly Blood Demon Art, he had been able to perfectly overcome the Sevenfold Tendon-Sealing Technique administered by Shaolin's sage monks, so now he felt nothing even when
harboring murderous intent. Soon, a cold voice was spat out.
"I suppose it is time to settle the score from back then?"
"You bastard! I won't let you go!"
Murong Jin, his rage soaring to the heavens, rushed in without regard for his own safety. He hadn't even properly
gauged his opponent's strength. That was how immense the shock of his father's death had been for Murong Jin.
But no matter how much of a promising talent of the younger generation he was in the orthodox faction, he could never reach the level of his father, who had attained the
pinnacle.
His opponent was a supreme master who had overwhelmed even Murong Buhui to claim victory. No matter how filled with fury he was,
he could never become a match for Dugu Xing. Without even being able to fight for long, Murong Jin was forced to lie his body on the cold ground as a
corpse bereft of life.
Schlik.
As Dugu Xing pulled his blade from Murong Jin's blood-drenched, limp body, an expression that could only be described as madness rose to his
face. The moment of revenge was, to him, more exhilarating than anything else.
Having succeeded in his revenge, Dugu Xing turned his head and looked around.
The situation had already been completely resolved. The Guardian Demon King Army he had brought had succeeded in annihilating the Murong Clan without significant
casualties. They were indeed elite experts worthy of being called Baegyo's finest.
Those standing within the hall were all members of the Guardian Demon King Army. Not a single warrior of the Murong Clan remained; they had either
lost their lives or were sprawled on the ground with grievous wounds. One warrior approached Dugu Xing and
bowed his head respectfully.
"What should we do with the survivors?"
Dugu Xing glanced at him as if to ask whether there was even a need to ask, then moved on without a word.
The befuddled man in black gathered his internal energy and shouted.
"Kill all the survivors. Even if they are corpses, no exceptions. Conduct a verification and make sure to hack them into
pieces."
"As you command."
The renowned Murong Clan was thus being led down the path to extermination.
.