Time was always absolute.
But the way its passage felt was relative.
For Jin Taekyung, barely half a quarter-hour had passed in a desperate exchange that seemed as though it might go on forever.
Slice!
Scorching pain flared along his side. Taekyung wondered whether his body was growing sluggish as the wounds piled up, or whether the Blood Lord was getting faster.
Or both.
But his thoughts were nothing compared to what the Blood Lord was feeling.
What… is this guy?
The Blood Lord’s eyes had blazed with rage, scattering streaks of crimson light. Now his gaze had sunk deep, and his eyes trembled faintly.
Three times.
Today marked his third encounter with Jin Taekyung.
The first time, he’d only watched from afar.
On the day the Jin Family of Taiyuan rose to become the preeminent clan of Shanxi Province, the young upstart who’d gone from the family’s disgrace to a Hidden Dragon had struck him as interesting.
At their second meeting, a year later, he’d felt more than interest.
To be honest, he’d been surprised.
Chosen as the Fire King’s Disciple, Jin Taekyung had grown almost unrecognizably strong. He’d become a young beast with even more ferocity in him.
So the Blood Lord had crushed him.
Thoroughly.
The Sword Saint’s intervention had forced the Blood Lord to retreat in humiliation, but Taekyung himself had been easy to handle. The Fire King’s teachings might have helped the young beast grow, yet the gulf between them remained as vast as heaven and earth.
Now another year had passed, and the Blood Lord faced an emotion beyond interest or surprise.
Astonishment.
…Why? Why won’t you fall?
He knew what had happened, of course. Four Demon Lords and Demon Empresses had met their ends at the hands of a man who’d once been nothing more than a young upstart.
But he couldn’t make himself understand it.
How had that happened? How could Taekyung stand against him without giving ground, when the Blood Lord’s own might had advanced even further?
“You!”
Crimson light surged in his eyes once more. A larger, more powerful arc of blade Force shot toward Jin Taekyung.
Whoosh—slice!
Severed strands of hair fluttered through the air. Wind pressure tore the skin exposed by Taekyung’s already-ragged clothes.
But that was all.
He slipped past the blade Force by barely a handspan and lunged forward without slowing.
Whoosh.
The distance between them vanished.
At the same time, a flash of light shot from far away, streaking over Taekyung’s shoulder as he charged.
Another Force arrow. The Blood Lord was sick of them by now.
The Bow Saint…!
He gritted his teeth and brought the Red Blade down.
KWA-ANG!
Force clashed with Force.
Through the split-second opening, a palm strike wreathed in searing heat shot toward him.
Fwoosh!
The space around them wavered. Rising wisps of heat shimmered through his vision like a dream.
The Blood Lord didn’t hesitate.
“How dare you!”
His shout rang out, charged with internal energy. He thrust out his free hand and seized the flames just before they reached him.
No—the palm behind them. Taekyung’s palm.
KRRK!
Hand met hand. Crimson Force and flame collided and twisted together.
A terrible burning pain came with them, enough to make an ordinary person faint on the spot.
Sizzle.
The Bow Saint’s intervention had delayed the Blood Lord’s counterattack by half a beat. But even as his flesh burned, he didn’t blink.
Instead, he growled at Taekyung, whose attack he had stopped. His voice was low, as though he were making a vow to himself.
“Did you think this would be enough to break me?”
He knew pain well.
He’d been in situations that should have killed him not just a few times, but dozens of times over. He had always risen again.
Through the blessing his master had bestowed on him. Through his own will.
“How dare a wretch like you—!”
Taekyung spoke quietly.
“You mean wretches. Plural.”
“What?”
The question escaped the Blood Lord before he knew it.
Whoooosh!
The sound of powerful movements swept in from every direction.
As the thick dust cloud slowly dispersed, the indistinct figures within it came into view.
“Sorry I’m late, Benefactor.”
Cheongpung’s voice was unusually subdued. His eyes had turned deep purple, and qi from the Zaha Divine Technique enveloped his body.
Over his shoulder, two aged but clear voices rang out.
“Infinite Life Buddha.1 At last, I meet the unwelcome guest who came to our mountain.”
“So you’re that vicious fiend.”
Cheongheoja and Perfected Being Hyeoncheon.
Cheongpung had appeared, followed by the Sect Leaders of Kunlun and Kongtong. The Blood Lord’s brow twitched.
But he had also spotted someone who troubled him more.
The Bow Saint.
She stood silently with her great bow aimed at him, steady as stone. The Blood Lord couldn’t afford to underestimate her, least of all now.
And they weren’t the last to arrive.
“I had a dream once. Shakyamuni,2 or whatever the hell his name was, came to me and said something.”
Step.
Footsteps reached the Blood Lord’s ears a moment late. The master who had returned to his one and only Disciple continued, his voice seething.
“Hong Dao. He told me to burn the bastard who killed that damned monk until there wasn’t a hair left of him.”
“I figured it had to be nonsense, coming from you. But I’ll believe you this once. I had a similar idea myself, though not quite the same.”
“It’s true.”
“Fine, let’s say it is. Though I doubt Shakyamuni2 called anyone a bastard.”
The Slaughter Saint had appeared like a ghost, without the slightest warning, and joined the encirclement. The Blood Lord suddenly felt as though he stood amid a mountain of sabers and a forest of swords.
Including Jin Taekyung, he faced no fewer than seven Supreme Peak masters. Two of them were among the Three Saints; another stood foremost among the Ten Kings and was fully their equal.
It was no mere illusion.
“So this is what you were after?”
Crack.
A bone shifted between their locked hands.
The Blood Lord’s hand had charred so badly it seemed ready to melt, yet it forced back the flames through sheer, unbelievable recovery.
Sizzle. Slither.
He tightened his grip as the flesh burned and healed, burned and healed. A growling laugh escaped him.
“But look. Which of us is really surrounded?”
Jin Taekyung didn’t answer.
More precisely, he couldn’t. The Blood Lord’s internal energy poured endlessly through their joined hands, backed by strength no human should possess. Holding against it took everything Taekyung had.
Yet his steady gaze and sharpened senses still registered everything around him.
Another vast encirclement stretched across a radius of hundreds of zhang.3
And at its front and center stood—
Black Ghosts.
Them.
Beings reborn from the pit of death. Death Knights cursed with something close to immortality.
In another world, they were called Death Knights. Taekyung could sense them clearly. More than ten stood like an iron wall, giving off suffocating demonic qi.
He could sense someone behind them, too.
The Grand Mage. No—the Grand Sorceress.
He’d expected as much. She wasn’t someone who would die that easily.
But expecting it did nothing to lessen the weight of the reality before him.
At this rate, we’ll all die together.
Perhaps the outcome would be even worse.
The Blood Lord and the Grand Sorceress had gained greater martial might and supernatural abilities since the Shaolin Bloodshed. Even if Taekyung and the others brought down every Black Ghost, there was no telling what those two might do.
He wasn’t the only one torn at this crossroads.
Must I truly let this man live?
The Blood Lord asked the question in his heart, wishing he could put it to his master.
He knew how badly the Lord of Heaven wanted the accursed man before him. No one in the world deserved that title more than his master.
That was why, when he’d heard that four Demon Lords and Demon Empresses had died one after another, he’d mocked and cursed them instead.
Was it simply because they’d been weak?
Only in part.
He’d cursed them because, contrary to their master’s orders, they had brought Jin Taekyung to the brink of death again and again.
But…
Now I understand why those bastards tried to kill you.
At last, he understood how they’d felt.
And yet he understood his master even less. Why did the Lord of Heaven want Jin Taekyung so badly—a man who thwarted Dark Heaven at every turn and was growing at a rate without precedent in history?
Why did he care more about Taekyung’s safety than about the loyal servants who had always been ready to give their lives for him?
Lord of Heaven. My one and only master. Please tell this servant.
Tell him to cut down this bright-yellow sprout now.
No—Taekyung had already grown into a towering tree. Tell him to kill the man by any means necessary.
The Blood Lord pleaded more desperately than ever.
But that was all.
His voice would not reach his master. Nothing would change.
Grit.
The Blood Lord clenched his teeth and wrenched his hand away, putting all the fury surging through him into the motion.
KWA-ANG!
The boom drove Taekyung back ten steps. The Blood Lord spat out each word.
“There won’t be a next time. I’ll kill you. No matter what.”
At that moment—
Bwoooooo!
A deep, resonant horn sounded in the distance, cutting straight through the taut tension.
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