Chapter 904

The situation in the Grand Banquet Hall had already spiraled beyond anyone’s control.

The festive music had long since fallen silent. The threefold cheers of “A thousand years!” celebrating the birth of an heir had given way to screams and shouts.

At last, the fuse had been lit.

The banquet was over.

But another banquet had yet to end.

A Hongmen Banquet,¹ where weapons would replace smiles, and blood would spill instead of wine.

A tremendous roar announced the start of that horrific feast, shaking the hall in every direction.

BOOOOM!

The ground shuddered, and a terrible wave of heat erupted. At that moment, a figure shot out from beyond the blazing flames and clouds of dust like a flash of light.

Whooosh!

Crunch!

The ground crumbled like tofu beneath the foot he barely managed to plant.

Jin Taekyung, the young man who’d just managed to steady himself after being hurled through the air with a sharp blast, spat the blood pooling in his mouth and muttered,

“So you’re a cut above me…”

Speed, strength, a perfectly timed surprise attack—he’d made full use of them all, yet the gap between them was unmistakable.

His hand still tingled as he remembered thrusting out his palm.

Just as his full-power Flame Divine Palm was about to strike Cang Gong’s chest, an icy energy had effortlessly suppressed his Scorching Yang Qi and shaken his entire body.

What the hell was that?

Despite all Jin Taekyung had seen—enough to rival many veterans of the martial world—he’d never felt energy like it.

Something more primal. Something he couldn’t describe as merely Yin-Cold Qi.

But he had nowhere near enough to solve that mystery.

Not enough information or experience.

Not enough time, either.

Step. Step.

Footsteps rang out clearly, even amid the chaos consuming the Grand Banquet Hall.

Cang Gong strolled across ground left horribly melted by the surge of Scorching Yang Qi. Then he stopped.

Right where he’d stood moments earlier.

“Five steps. Five whole steps.”

There was admiration in his quiet voice.

At an absurdly young age, that martial artist had reached an astonishing level of skill.

To make this old man retreat five steps, in that battered condition.

Now that he’d experienced it firsthand, Cang Gong thought he understood why that person had taken such an interest in Jin Taekyung.

Why that person had ordered them to keep that young brat alive, even after losing two loyal servants—the Western Heaven Demon Lord and the Southern Heaven Demon Empress—in the process.

As an enemy, he’d be the greatest obstacle. As an ally, he’d soon become a monster who could surpass even the Three Saints.

Cang Gong had no doubt they could win him over once they captured him.

If Jin Taekyung met the Lord of Heaven—if he felt that irresistible being’s power even once—he would have no choice but to kneel before him.

Just as Cang Gong himself had.

“I must take him to the Lord of Heaven. No matter what.”

The moment he said it, a dry voice cut in.

“Take who to whom?”

Fwoosh.

The air for hundreds of feet around them grew scorching hot.

Cang Gong saw a bald, middle-aged man approaching through the heat haze rising from the ground. His pale lips parted.

“Fire King Jeok Cheongang.”

“How dare you toss this old man’s name around, you ball-less bastard?”

“You two really are alike in speech and behavior. I can’t tell whether the disciple learned from the master or the master from the disciple.”

Jeok Cheongang answered flatly. “Usually, the disciple learns from the master. Though a rootless bastard like you wouldn’t know that.”

“Roots, huh? I had those once. A master and fellow disciples who were like family.”

“I see. So did your master teach you to cut off your own balls, too?”

“No.”

A murderous smile spread across Cang Gong’s lips.

“He taught me never to forget my roots, no matter what happened. I haven’t forgotten his words for a single moment.”

“I don’t know what long-winded story you’ve got, but to hell with his teachings. You won’t need to remember them anymore.”

Jeok Cheongang raised his fist and grinned.

“Everyone who’s taken a hit from this old man ended up that way.”

He glanced around and added, “Though it looks like plenty of others would love to tear you apart, too.”

He wasn’t exaggerating.

Nearly two thousand members of the Embroidered Uniform Guard surrounded them in a circle. Every one of them was among the Great Nation’s finest troops, martial artists ranging from Supreme First Rate to Peak.

And that wasn’t all.

The Imperial Guards were considered a cut below the Embroidered Uniform Guard, who protected the Emperor and the imperial family, but they were elite troops in their own right. They’d arrived late, taken positions on the outer walls of the Grand Banquet Hall, and drawn their bows.

Five thousand men in all.

More than enough to call an army—and in quality, they could rival a force of a hundred thousand.

Yet Cang Gong merely looked at the countless spears, swords, and arrowheads surrounding him.

Or rather, he looked past them to the one man watching him from the high platform.

“The hunting dogs have slipped their leashes and are running wild without even knowing where they’ll die, while their cunning master sits back and watches.”

Just as he always had.

Cang Gong laughed aloud.

Then his laughter stopped dead, and a thunderous command burst from his pale lips.

“Attack!”

BOOOOM!

The immense internal energy carried in his voice shook the Grand Banquet Hall. At that instant—

Thrust! Slash!

A gleaming sword blade burst from an Embroidered Uniform Guard’s chest. Too stunned even to feel the pain, he stared at the steel piercing his golden armor.

“W-Why…?”

Shock and disbelief filled his wide eyes.

Even as death rushed toward him, he wanted to know.

Why was he dying like this? Why had a comrade he’d called hyung² for more than ten years stabbed him in the back?

“Ghk. D-Dong hyung²?”

Why?

They weren’t related by blood, but they’d promised to treat each other as sworn brothers.

Dozens—hundreds—of times, they’d raised their cups together, encouraging each other, pledging their brotherhood and swearing loyalty to their country and His Majesty the Emperor.

But when he forced out that one call through the blood rising in his throat, the answer came in a flat voice he’d never heard in all their ten years together.

“Heaven above, earth below. All demons bow in reverence.”

“…!”

Those were the last words he heard.

Crunch.

The sword twisted and pulled free. His lifeless body toppled to the ground.

Everywhere.

Thrust!

All around—

Slash!

Again and again—

Shhhk!

Severed heads rolled across the ground. Limbs and blood flew through the air.

In the blink of an eye, hundreds of the two thousand Embroidered Uniform Guards were dead.

Killed by their own comrades. By superiors, subordinates, and men they’d cherished like brothers.

“…!”

“…!”

Muffled shouts burst out from every direction. The traitors and the betrayed, those who fought to protect and those who fought to take, clashed with one another.

Clang-clang-clang!

Slash! Thrust!

“Aaagh!”

Screams echoed as swordlight flashed ceaselessly through the darkness.

Someone’s hand, still clutching a torch, twitched in a pool of blood.

Then another darkness spread over the horrific melee that had erupted beneath the night sky.

Fwoooooosh.

Some who heard the sound thought it was rain. Another man, panting as he waited for death, remembered the broad plains of his hometown.

A strong wind sweeping in from far away had made just such a sound across those fields.

The ripe grain and grasses would bow, and the great tree where the village held its festivals would shake its abundant branches and leaves.

But the nameless man realized he’d never return to the hometown he missed.

Ah.

The darkness spreading across the sky was no darkness at all. Countless arrows were raining down.

They spread across the sky as they rushed toward the people below—or toward the Emperor they’d sworn their loyalty to.

Cough.

He spat blood mixed with fragments of his innards.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

He hadn’t left his family and his hometown to die so pointlessly.

Damn it.

He stared at the darkness rushing toward him and waited for death to end his pain and despair.

Then he saw it.

Fwoosh—BOOOOM!

A great blaze swallowed the darkness.

Countless arrows burned away without a trace. Through that overwhelming heat, a young man plunged toward the ground like a hawk diving for prey.

BOOM!

Why did a roar that should have sounded like thunder reach him so faintly, as though it had come from hundreds of yards away?

As his vision dimmed, he tried to remember the young man’s name.

Why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he ask him to save him, to send him home?

With darkness closing over his eyes, all he could do was watch. Flames consumed the unending rain of arrows, and traitors fell like bundles of straw wherever the young man moved.

Two beings began a battle that shook heaven and earth. He could hardly believe they were made of flesh and blood like him.

Bang! Bang! BOOOOM!

Scorching heat. Shuddering cold.

Flames and white flashes swept the hall without pause, setting the night ablaze and freezing it over.

The countless bodies still piling up amid sprays of blood served as firewood.

And the life of one unfortunate man, made to suffer a little longer than the rest, as a sacrifice.

But at the end of that horrific wait, the nameless member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard managed to remember the young man’s name—the one he’d almost forgotten.

Jin Taekyung. Right. It was Jin Taekyung.

Strange.

He lay dying in a pool of blood, in the middle of a sea of corpses and blood, yet he didn’t feel cold at all.

It’s warm.

He watched the flames surging between flashing spears and swords. Then, unable to fight the sleep overtaking him, he closed his eyes.

He thought of the hometown he would never return to.

People who love to talk say only two things can kill a Supreme Peak master: time and his own carelessness.

Right now, I wanted to tell those people one thing.

Then why don’t you try fighting them?

A Supreme Peak master is still made of flesh and blood.

To someone who doesn’t know any better, he might look like a superhuman who can take down hundreds or thousands of enemies. But he has limits.

Especially when at least half of those hundreds or thousands are Peak masters.

Swish! Slice!

The tip of a spear someone thrust out skimmed past my cheek by a hair. Getting my skin sliced open by the internal energy packed into its blade was just the standard package. My fist returning the favor was a bonus.

Wham!

My Flame Divine Palm struck the Embroidered Uniform Guard—no, the traitor planted by Dark Heaven—in the chest. He flew backward like a puppet with its strings cut.

Dead on the spot.

But someone else filled the gap. The others moved more cautiously now, and faster.

Damn it.

If they’d only been martial artists, they would’ve been much easier to deal with. But they were soldiers, too—a force with both powerful martial arts and an army’s discipline.

Slash! Thrust!

I snatched a spear from someone’s hands and swung it wildly, glaring past the shoulders of the enemies surrounding me.

Why the hell?!

I wanted to shout it.

Why weren’t they helping? How could they stand there and watch, even now?

The Emperor stood where I was looking. Baek Yeon and So Gyo remained beside him, guarding him like stone statues.

And now there was someone else in my line of sight.

An unwelcome guest.

Whoosh!

A sharp sound cut through the air. A dozen or so Embroidered Uniform Guards who’d been fighting nearby stopped moving.

Their eyes widened in disbelief.

Then, as if to reveal the cold truth, faint lines of blood appeared on their necks, growing darker by the second.

Gurgle—SHHHK!

Blood beaded along the cuts, then sprayed like fountains. The man who’d swept past them watched their bodies fall like rotten trees. He looked at me and sighed.

“Why did you do it? If you’d simply trusted me and followed along, everything could have gone smoothly.”

Instead of answering Ma Sanbao’s bullshit—the kind even the mutt next door could understand—I brought my spearhead down.

Whoosh!