Chapter 246. I Need Time to Adapt to the Darkness.

Am I the strange one?

I felt more guilty killing a wolf tamed by humans than killing a hunter who had forcibly tamed wolves.

If I think like this, will I become an enemy of humanity?

Unable to reach a conclusion on these thoughts, I deflected the crude blades of the miscellaneous rabble, cut off a hunter's arm, and scorched the faces of wandering warriors with my left palm wrapped in Baekjeonshipdangong. Since the enemies far outnumbered us, defending was a hassle, so before I knew it, I moved purely on the offensive, recalling the principles of the Dokgojunggeom.

Of course, my wooden sword is light.

But my attacks aren't light, so it's fine.

In an instant, an arm severed by someone nearby flew past, splattering blood across my face.

This is why fighting is such a hassle.

Covered in blood, I killed another daoist, chased down a hunter swinging his blade, and slit his throat. In that instant, the smell of blood stung my nose. Perhaps because my martial arts had risen overall, my five senses had grown sharper as well. The stench of blood mixed with the body odor of a hunter who hadn't washed in ages was especially nauseating today.

Finding the smell of blood uncomfortable, I sheathed my wooden sword and wrapped both hands in Baekjeonshipdangong once more.

Smack!

The moment I grabbed the whip flying toward my eyes, I infused it with Baekjeonshipdangong and pulled. Even then, I thought I could guess the whip's purpose.

It was probably a whip used to beat wolves.

By the time the man who had been screaming, enveloped in noegi, arrived before me, he was already unconscious. I snatched the whip from the dead man, infused it with noegi, and lashed out indiscriminately as I moved around.

This proved more efficient. I kicked wolves away with my feet as much as possible and beat the wolf trainers to death with the whip. This was why noegi was so useful. Even if I struck their legs, the noegi transferred, and even if someone blocked the blade, the noegi transferred through completely.

Some convulsed from the mere brush of noegi, and these ones often ended up instantly killed by Gwima's sword. Only then did I survey the situation and realize I had been engaging in slaughter in tandem with Gwima, while Geomma rampaged alongside Saekma.

A situation where noegi and a swordsman combined, and ice arts and a swordsman combined.

This one-plus-one was a lethal combination.

When Saekma dug deep using his ice arts, Geomma inevitably followed up, swinging the Gwangmyeonggeom to lop off heads.

Geomma was a merciless man from the start. As soon as the battle began, he moved about mostly killing instantly with a single blow, yet he somehow seemed to already know the principles of the Dokgojunggeom to some degree. Later, when I passed on the secret manual for the Dokgojunggeom, it would add a conviction befitting a completed sword technique.

Wouldn't that be enough for a secret manual to do? Come to think of it, the White-Clothed Scholar really wasn't an ordinary human either.

Gwima shouted at me.

"What are you standing around for!"

Holding the whip infused with noegi through Baekjeonshipdangong, I looked around and spoke, imbuing my voice with internal energy.

"Creatures of Jukson, kneel."

No one listened to me.

In an instant, a daoist leaped into the air and flew at me, thrusting his sword. Having been ignored in my offer to surrender, I unconsciously activated Jahagi. Only after swinging did I realize the whip was wrapped in a purple light.

A dull thud—thwack!—erupted in midair, and the daoist struck by the whip infused with Jahagi scattered in all directions while still suspended.

Splat!

The result was completely different from striking with a whip infused with Baekjeonshipdangong.

In an instant, clumps of flesh and bits of meat exploded and scattered, and the wandering warriors nearby screamed as they were showered in a rain of blood and flesh.

"You stupid bastards, you only come to your senses after getting beaten."

Their screams sounded like curses filled with regret, as if they had stumbled onto the wrong battlefield.

From then on, those fleeing began to multiply one by one, acting like typical routed soldiers. A daoist grabbed a nearby hunter and shoved him forward in his place, and the wandering warriors read the room and retreated. But the daoists beheaded the wandering warriors trying to flee and urged the battle on until the end.

'Damn, these guys are ruthless.'

Anyway, the daoists didn't seem to have any intention of retreating. This meant their fear and faith in Mureungja were greater than the terror inspired by the Four Great Evils.

I wiped the blood caked in my eyes and looked at the daoists.

"Why are you dying when Mureungja isn't even coming? I suppose he really isn't called the West Evil for nothing."

The moment I spotted someone trying to flee, I closed the distance using gyeonggong, grabbed his head, and infused it with Baekjeonshipdangong. Perhaps because my realm had grown higher, his scream was short.

The hunters had already been wiped out first. The sly lot of wandering warriors had scattered and none remained. Some had even clashed with the daoists before stealthily withdrawing.

Only the daoists remained, looking at us with the will to resist.

Saekma asked me, who was standing still.

"What are you doing? Did you find something?"

I was looking over the daoists facing us. They were all gasping for breath and glaring at me, but they were experts strong enough to be collectively called the Bamboo Mountain Sect.

As I looked at the daoists, I finally discovered two people who weren't breathing heavily.

"Which of you is the Eldest Brother?"

"……."

I asked the man who was looking at me with particularly hateful eyes.

"You're the ventriloquist, right? Did you think I wouldn't know if you kept your mouth shut? This bastard's very eyes reek of a sinister ventriloquist."

Then, a clear voice rang out.

"Did My Lord stop fighting so that the leaders could settle this between themselves?"

I surveyed my surroundings with a bewildered expression, as did the Four Great Evils.

"Where the hell is this bullshit coming from?"

It wasn't a ventriloquist.

It was a voice I was hearing for the first time, but it didn't have the tone of a demonic heretic, and the pronunciation was strange too. I looked around at my surroundings before speaking while looking up at a tree.

"Say it to my face."

A tree some distance away swayed, and a young monk clad in ceremonial robes lightly descended and landed.

Truthfully, I was a man rarely surprised, but the moment I saw the monk before me, I was at a loss for words.

"……."

In other words, there before me was a monk of the Japbumilgyo, wearing the exact same robes as Gwangseung. He wore yellow dharma robes on top, with humble, ash-colored monk's clothes underneath—how could I not recognize these vestments?

Moreover, the moment I saw the young monk, I could guess his identity.

In other words, this was the saje of Gwangseung who had traveled the Central Plains before him. According to Gwangseung's description, he was a martial arts prodigy who walked the path of a martial monk, a traveling monk who left the Japbumilgyo to wander many places. However, seeing him in person, he exuded an intelligence that seemed destined for greatness as a scholar rather than the feel of a martial monk.

To sum it up:

The martial monk had been killed by someone, and in his previous life, this was the incident that caused Gwangseung to enter the Central Plains in a state of rage.

Gwangseung's saje looked at me and spoke.

"If I take you to where Mureungja is, will you settle the match between leaders and avoid unnecessary killing?"

A sigh escaped me involuntarily. He was indeed a martial arts prodigy, but I had heard he was incredibly stubborn.

'For god's sake…'

His stubbornness was palpable to the point where it practically felt like prayer.

For now, I nodded.

"Lead the way."

The man I presumed to be the eldest senior brother opened his mouth.

“Who are you to meddle in other people’s affairs?”

The warrior monk replied.

“Because if the fight continues, everyone here will be killed by the Sect Master and his party. Is that not so? You must know from fighting them that the martial artists of Juksan are no match for them. If you fear your master’s rebuke, then stay out of the way for a while. As for you four, please follow me.”

Though only a few words had been exchanged, everyone must have realized that this unidentified young monk was exceedingly rigid-minded. This warrior monk was the sort who expected a great deal from the goodness of human beings.

Was that why someone had gotten the better of him?

For people of the gangho were never as naive as this warrior monk.

The Sword Demon asked the warrior monk,

“Monk, where have you come from? I have never seen such attire before.”

“I came from Xizang.”

“Tianzhu? Esoteric Buddhism?”

“I am an ordinary wandering monk.”

The Lust Demon answered,

“No. You do not look ordinary at all.”

I said to the eldest senior brother and the ventriloquist bastard,

“This is your only chance to live. Stop us and you die. Stay still and you live. What will you do?”

The Mad Monk’s junior disciple cut in again.

“Sect Master, please commit no more slaughter than this. You have already killed many.”

I immediately roared at the warrior monk.

“Shut up!”

“…….”

Come to think of it, this warrior monk was my martial uncle, the one who would meet his death in the gangho.

Somehow, I felt I roughly knew how this warrior monk had died. He was a man who readily believed people’s words. At the foundation of that trust was likely a conviction that humans could be guided toward enlightenment. But humans were not creatures who changed so easily.

If they were, I would not be on this journey. If guiding people were that easy, I could have just sat around Baekeungji drinking myself stupid.

The warrior monk said to me with a tranquil face,

“If the Sect Master insists on moving for the sake of killing, I will not tell you Mureungja’s location.”

I nodded.

“What a frustrating monk. It doesn’t matter. Instead, the bastards here will all die by our hands.”

The man who had been my martial uncle in my past life said,

“I am not telling you so you can kill Mureungja. If you will take him to the Murim Alliance and make him beg forgiveness for his crimes, I will help you. I have occasionally heard rumors about you as well, Sect Master. That much should be possible for you, should it not?”

Well now, my martial uncle from my previous life had already heard rumors about me?

The situation remained absurd and bewildering, but I kept my wits about me.

The Mad Monk’s junior disciple was someone who would ultimately meet his death in this merciless gangho. If I got dragged along by this man, nothing would differ from my previous life. Because the moment the Mad Monk learned of his junior disciple’s death, he would surely appear in the gangho.

The Mad Monk arriving in the gangho after hearing of his junior disciple’s death and the Mad Monk arriving in the gangho while his junior disciple was alive and well would lead to entirely different results.

Regardless of my own ties, there was no need for the Mad Monk’s junior disciple to meet his death.

I looked at the warrior monk and said,

“We’ll escort him to the Murim Alliance, so guide us for now.”

My frustrating martial uncle looked at me and smiled faintly.

“Sect Master, you lie far too naturally.”

“Was I caught? But if we are speaking of frustration, Baldy is far more frustrating. So frustrating I might die.”

“I am not bald. I shaved my head.”

I stared at my martial uncle.

‘This martial uncle bastard is fun to tease too. Confirmed.’

Just then, the Sword Demon spoke in a subdued tone.

“There is no need to go looking.”

“…….”

We followed the Sword Demon’s gaze and looked at the old men climbing up the hillside path. Of all things, there were four extraordinary old men, and each had a wholly different air. It even felt as though the old Four Great Evildoers, who had been spending their years in deep mountains and secluded valleys, were encountering the young Four Great Evildoers.

For a moment, I examined the warrior monk’s bearing.

I already knew he was a genius of martial learning. His skills seemed tremendous for his age, but I had to wonder whether the warrior monk alone could truly handle these old men.

Only then did the faces of the surviving Daoists brighten, and they joined the old men.

“Master.”

The old man in the center opened his mouth.

“I heard, unexpectedly, that the former Left Envoy of the Demon Cult was here, so I was a little late gathering some allies before coming. As expected, you have killed a great many of my disciples.”

It seemed this old man was Mureungja. A chill ran down my spine at the fact that Mureungja was far older than I remembered.

‘Strange. Did he learn some deceptive art while eating peaches?’

I asked Mureungja in a courteous tone,

“Are you Mureungja, the one called the Western Evil, who supposedly stuffs his face with peaches so well?”

Mureungja looked at me, then smiled, fully revealing his crooked teeth.

“That’s right. You junior must be the Hao Sect Master whose fame has been resounding lately, yes? I also heard rumors that you were colluding with Im Sobaek. What a truly detestable Alliance Leader he is. Sending a green young junior bastard to the jaws of death while he himself lives in luxury at the Murim Alliance.”

“I will add the crime of insulting the Alliance Leader.”

“There is such a thing?”

“I made it.”

I said to my martial uncle, who was standing there awkwardly,

“Baldy, come over here. Those people can’t be reasoned with. Hurry up and come. What are you standing there staring blankly for?”

My martial uncle approached with a flustered expression and stood nearby.

“Sect Master, I am not bald.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Please call me Dongsu, if you would.”

I held back a laugh to myself. The character dong had the meaning of child, but it could also be used to mean bald.

If I interpreted it freely as I pleased, the name Dongsu contained the meaning of “the life of a bald man.” In any case, even taking into account how somewhat frustrating he was because he was my martial uncle, I was in a position where I absolutely had to save the bald man’s life.

I lightly grasped my martial uncle’s shoulder.

“Good to meet you, Dongsu.”

My bald martial uncle stared at me.

“Sect Master, I believe I am a little older than you……”

“So what.”

“Yes.”

As far as I knew, Martial Uncle Dongsu had another name. It was difficult, and after hearing it only once or twice, I had forgotten it. I grabbed my bald martial uncle and sent him behind me.

I opened my mouth from a position where I was protecting my martial uncle.

“Dongsu.”

“Yes, Sect Master.”

“Watch how madmen fight in the gangho.”

I stood shoulder to shoulder with the Four Great Evildoers and fixed my eyes on Mureungja and the old men with him. My bald martial uncle, who was rather rigid and naive, needed to face the darkness of the world.

Once the fight broke out…….

In any case, the Four Great Evils are heartless men like me.

I briefly protected my martial uncle, who in my previous life would meet his death somewhere, beneath the pitch-black shadow of the Four Great Evils. For we need time to adjust to the light, and my martial uncle needs time to adjust to the darkness.