Chapter 1027

Some people stand out.

Like an awl poking through a pocket. Like a reef rising from the middle of the sea. Like a wildflower in the wilderness.

The man approaching now, as leisurely as if he were admiring the scenery, was one of them.

Clip-clop. Clip-clop.

Gray hair swayed to the slow rhythm of his horse’s hooves.

The middle-aged man’s features were ordinary—neither particularly handsome nor ugly—but his pupils were long, vertical slits.

What truly set him apart, though, was the blood-red light in his eyes. Redder than flame, and far more chilling.

“This is the first time we’ve met face-to-face. Good to see you, Senior Jeok.”

A respectful address, delivered with a smile in his voice.

That was when Jeok Cheongang’s eyes widened. The middle-aged man had stopped over ten jang¹ away, and Jeok was staring at his reptilian pupils.

“You can’t be…”

“We were both too busy to meet the last time. What a shame. If you’d been there, Goyangcheon would still be alive and well by now. Don’t you think?”

Goyangcheon.

I remembered the name from something Jeok Cheongang had told me.

He had been the Family Head of the Goyang Family, which once wielded power to rival the Five Great Families. Or rather, he had been its last survivor.

After the Demonic Cult wiped out his family, Goyangcheon became a man consumed by revenge. The world called him the Spear King. Near the end of the Great Faction War, that great martial artist was found in an unnamed field.

He had been cut into dozens of pieces, together with the spear he’d treated as an extension of himself all his life.

Not by a hundred men, or a thousand. By one person.

A killer who craved blood more than anyone else in the Demonic Cult.

“The Blood-Sword Demon Lord…”

The name escaped me in a low groan. The middle-aged man—the Blood-Sword Demon Lord—broke into a wide smile.

The infirmities of old age are a frightening thing.

Like a thief slipping in under cover of night, they steal your memories one by one.

That was why, during our stay at Mount Jiuhua, I’d deliberately pestered Jeok Cheongang with questions about his past.

I hoped it might slow his illness, even a little. Hold off the curse of time for even fifteen minutes.

As it turned out, the arrangement was pretty good for both of us.

The old man, who’d been living alone with no one to talk to, recovered forgotten memories through our countless conversations. And the young man keeping him company learned all sorts of things from a veteran of the martial world who’d lived for more than a hundred years.

One of those things concerned the killer now smiling at me.

“I’m glad. You know who I am.”

The System I had couldn’t read minds.

But I could feel it instinctively.

The Blood-Sword Demon Lord wasn’t just saying he was glad I knew him. He genuinely was.

There was a childlike innocence to his delight.

That feeling was far too pure for a murderer responsible for so much bloodshed. It made him all the more unsettling.

“I used to be a pretty big deal, you know. These friends here were fairly famous themselves, but to the Demonic Cult, they were only useful guests.”

The Blood-Sword Demon Lord beamed as he spoke. The Three Elders of Tianshan might have taken offense, but they only nodded, their faces stiff.

“Y-you are right a hundred times over. A thousand times.”

“How could we ever presume to compare ourselves to the Demon Lord?”

“Though we are utterly lacking, being allowed to serve the Demon Lord is the honor of a lifetime.”

They were remarkably good at kissing the Blood-Sword Demon Lord’s ass on cue. I wanted to ask how many times a day they brushed their teeth, but from their perspective, it made sense.

The weak fall to the strong. Might Makes Right.

Those called demonic martial artists pursued strength more openly than anyone, and the Blood-Sword Demon Lord was a great fiend beyond comparison to the Three Elders of Tianshan.

Of course, by the world’s standards, the Three Elders were great fiends too. Their martial prowess and the infamy they’d earned during the Great Faction War were more than enough to justify the name.

But as Jeok Cheongang had told them to their faces half an hour ago, they were stray dogs by birth.

They were simply far more ferocious than other dogs, with sharper, stronger teeth.

Still, there was no comparing them to the one mad dog who stood out even among that insane cult of fanatics, a group that had stood shoulder to shoulder with the Murim world for more than a thousand years.

Of course, its rabid dog seemed to have a new master now.

“The Demonic Cult? Shouldn’t you call it the Divine Cult?”

At my sudden question, the Blood-Sword Demon Lord smiled. He’d just called the Three Elders guests of the Demonic Cult himself.

“That was a long time ago. You know that already, so why ask?”

“So, now that you’ve changed collars, are they feeding you on time?”

“Well.”

The Blood-Sword Demon Lord opened his eyes wide in mock surprise and turned to Jeok Cheongang.

“Senior Jeok, how did you teach your Disciple? Even if we’re on different paths, shouldn’t we show each other some courtesy? Like I do.”

Jeok Cheongang answered calmly.

“I taught him better than your parents taught you, so don’t worry.”

The Blood-Sword Demon Lord stared at him for a moment, then roared with laughter.

“Well, well. You’re just as the rumors say.”

“And you’re worse. I regret not catching you and killing you long ago.”

“I know that fiery temper of yours, Senior. Whenever you appeared on a battlefield, useful men died left and right. The Cult Leader was furious more times than I can count.”

“That must have made things hard for you. Weren’t you the Heavenly Demon’s favorite guard dog, the one he kept closest?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I didn’t have much trouble. I just killed as many as were dying.”

The Blood-Sword Demon Lord went on, laughter still in his voice.

“When Heaven-Poison, that foolish old man, died, the Sect Leader of Hainan wasn’t enough. I had to bring back the Spear King’s head too. But what could I do? I wanted to do it.”

“Heaven-Poison? You mean the Heaven-Poison Demon Lord?”

“Well, was there another Heaven-Poison?”

I knew that title too.

Second only to the Heavenly Demon in the Demonic Cult, the Heaven-Poison Demon Lord had been a wall even Poison King Tang Taesang could not overcome. Tang Taesang, the former Grand Family Head of the Sichuan Tang Clan, was dead now too.

Then one day, the Heaven-Poison Demon Lord encountered disciples of Huashan on a battlefield. He died there.

Someone had unleashed a brilliant purple Sword Force, radiant enough to overwhelm the sunset.

“The Sword Saint—though I suppose I should call him the Alliance Leader now? In any case, I was secretly grateful to Mae Jonghak. That old Heaven-Poison always looked at me strangely. Luckily, he died before it was too late, and things worked out well.”

I watched the Blood-Sword Demon Lord chatter away, plainly delighted with himself. His last remark made me frown.

Things worked out well because he died?

Losing a master meant losing a vital part of your fighting strength. The Heaven-Poison Demon Lord’s death must have been a tremendous blow to the Demonic Cult.

And yet…

“So that’s when you changed collars.”

The Blood-Sword Demon Lord’s brow furrowed.

“‘Changed collars’ is a bit much… But think what you like.”

I already knew Dark Heaven had appeared before the Great Faction War ended.

The Head Elder of the Jin Family of Taiyuan, Baeksang of the Nanman Beast Palace, and even the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord, who’d been the Emperor’s closest confidant…

If you traced things back far enough, Dark Heaven had been taking shape from the very beginning of the Great Faction War.

No. Perhaps…

Dark Heaven might have caused the Great Faction War in the first place.

A chill ran down my spine. I looked at the Blood-Sword Demon Lord.

“When did it start?”

“When did what start? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“When you people appeared. When the Lord of Heaven appeared.”

In that instant—

Whoosh!

Wind roared around us, a violent storm of qi.

The snow and frost covering the ground, and the dirt and sand hidden beneath them, flew in every direction before swiftly settling again.

Rustle.

As the debris of nature drifted back down, the Blood-Sword Demon Lord stared at me with a cold, sunken gaze.

“You really have no manners.”

The smile had vanished from his lips. His voice was low.

He sounded calm at first, but cold lava flowed beneath the words.

“How strange. I can understand you to a point, and yet I simply can’t understand you at all. Why would that person go out of their way to…”

He broke off. Then his face opened into a good-natured smile.

“Well, there must be a reason for everything that person does. As always. I only wanted to confirm one thing.”

I didn’t need to ask what.

The Blood-Sword Demon Lord slowly raised a hand and continued.

“Blazing Flame Divine Dragon Jin Taekyung. You’re strong. Strong enough that even I’d rather avoid a bloody fight with you. Strong enough that I worry you might commit the blasphemy of defeating that person.”

I could see his eyes on me. Hear his voice.

And I could feel the pure admiration in them.

Along with…

The faint killing intent hidden beneath it.

“Your limitless potential and your sense of justice have moved me. I mean that.”

“……!”

“……!”

“……!”

It happened in an instant.

Jeok Cheongang and I sprang forward. So did Sama Pyo, who had stood silently by until then.

The order and timing of our push off the ground and our charge differed, but the desperation driving us was probably the same.

Crack.

Our toes gouged the earth. Sand crumbled.

Internal energy surged from my dantian into the muscles of my tensed lower body, then exploded.

Boom!

The world slowed. The scenery shifted.

We shot forward, closing the distance of over ten jang¹.

In that moment, Jeok Cheongang and I were two fierce streaks of flame. Sama Pyo was a silent wind.

And in the slowed flow of time, three walls rose to block the flames and the wind.

“Ha!”

Three voices. One shout.

The Three Elders of Tianshan.

The three fiends of Tianshan unleashed their pent-up fury and energy, wielding a power too great for anyone to dismiss them as mere stray dogs.

A coordinated technique, honed over ages of working together, merged the three walls into one enormous barrier.

Boom!

A single clash shook heaven and earth.

Amid that tremendous roar and the rippling waves of power that filled a time already split into fragments, the Blood-Sword Demon Lord’s hand, raised toward the sky, finally came down.

Like countless blades waiting on a hillside for a single command.

“Slash!”

Shhk! Thk-thk-thk!

As a thousand or so heads rolled to the ground, my eyes met the Blood-Sword Demon Lord’s. The blood in my body went cold.

He was smiling.