I hate fire.
To be precise, I hate the memories that fire brings to mind.
The helplessness of watching someone die in my arms, unable to do anything.
The frustration of holding a sword in my hand, yet having no opponent to swing it at.
And the grudges that piled up, with nowhere to go, were enough to twist my mind.
Of course, now I've experienced something that can't be explained by the word regression, saved those I couldn't save before, and killed the enemies I couldn't kill before.
Before I knew it, the Simma within me had calmed, and it no longer seethed as it once did.
But the fear remains.
It is a vague fear of the Heavenly Demon, but at its root, it is a fear of loss.
Yes. What must be acknowledged, I acknowledge.
What remained in the place where I had cast out the Simma was fear—and the weakness I had long turned away from.
The experience of facing what I had not seen while drunk on killing intent was hardly pleasant.
In that sense, the scene unfolding before my eyes was quite meaningful to me.
Frost glinting beneath my feet. Eyes swirling with cold. And a force that rent the very space itself, riding on a song.
"Ah."
Seol Ri-hyang, who had rushed out unable to bear my danger, somehow resembled her pre-regression self.
And this was not merely a matter of outward appearance.
The heat of the Blood Flame Death Cultivation that had seized the entire surrounding area weakened.
The blazing Yang energy that had raged as if it would burn my lungs merely from breathing settled down.
The sword that the Blood Flame Fist Demon had been gripping while directly injecting his internal energy was still hot, but no longer enough to scorch my skin.
Had she said that with her skill, she couldn't keep up with the speed of me and the Blood Flame Fist Demon?
I had intended to resolve it by directly absorbing the Yin Energy, but the answer Seol Ri-hyang showed was far bolder.
Just as the Blood Flame Fist Demon had recklessly released his internal energy into the surroundings to gain the upper hand.
Seol Ri-hyang, unable to keep up with the movements of a Transcendent Peak martial artist, simply poured her Yin Energy across the entire range of our battle.
Of course, that should have been impossible.
She had gained some enlightenment at the Dragon Phoenix Gathering and was but a single step away from the Peak Realm, but she was still only a first-rate martial artist, wasn't she?
The Blood Flame Fist Demon, on the other hand, had reached Transcendent Peak long ago, and while his Fist and Leg Art may have stagnated and regressed, his skill at handling internal energy would have only improved.
So her attempt should have failed, or at best, lacked the power to make any meaningful difference.
…That is, under normal circumstances.
The Pure Yin Constitution. It was a legendary constitution that, while not quite on the level of the Nine Yin Severed Meridians, was born with several times the normal amount of Yin Energy, and its purity was said to surpass even that of the Nine Yin Severed Meridians.
On top of that, the Glacier True Energy was a martial art that, while difficult to master, was counted among the finest in the North Sea Ice Palace. Moreover, it was specialized in the very handling of cold itself.
But most importantly, the one possessing both of these qualities was none other than Seol Ri-hyang.
"——————!"
A song that seemed to echo from every direction. It was undoubtedly a beautiful melody, yet what emanated from within it was a killing intent frozen solid with cold.
It was the first time in this life that Seol Ri-hyang had harbored killing intent toward another person, yet it was so vicious that, apart from the chill, it sent a cold shiver down one's spine.
Though that viciousness was of a different kind from mine.
It was not an overflowing, massive amount, nor a thick killing intent that stole one's breath.
Extremely restrained. But a killing intent so blind that one wondered how a person could be capable of such a thing.
I knew all too well what to call it.
Gwigi.
Just as in her previous life, Seol Ri-hyang was now emitting gwigi from her human body.
No, it wasn't true gwigi. It was simply that she was throwing everything she had into making it appear that way.
In the bluish ghostly aura flickering over eyes that must have once been black, I could see the image of the Ghost Sound Witch from the previous life.
"…So that's how it is."
She was sane, yet not sane — and because of that, the sight was so familiar to me that I could finally understand.
Seol Ri-hyang was prepared to pour out even her True Origin Vital Energy if it came down to it.
Was it because I was a martial artist who had watched her grow up from up close? It seemed she had developed the strange habit of stepping deeper into danger whenever things got dangerous.
However, it was unlikely that she had acted without any thought at all.
Unlike the gwigi-laden gaze she had directed at the Blood Flame Fist Demon, the look she gave me carried an unwavering faith.
Seol Ri-hyang remembered. She remembered my words that if only the Yang Gang Ji Gi could be dealt with, victory against the Blood Flame Fist Demon could be within reach.
She had staked her own life on that single statement.
If so, was it not only right for me to answer in kind?
"You damned woman, interfering when you're not even a proper threat…!"
At the moment the Blood Flame Fist Demon split off a portion of his internal energy and gathered it into a small ball of Qi Flame, aiming it at Seol Ri-hyang—
"Shut up."
Kyaaaaak!
The moment the dark red Sword Qi sliced through the bastard's grip, it also split apart the flames that were just beginning to surge forth.
"How dare you?!"
The Blood Flame Fist Demon recoiled in shock, widening the distance. The blood that dripped down afterward caused the Blood Flame Death Cultivation to react, flaring up even more fiercely… but it no longer felt threatening.
No matter how intense the flames, as long as Seol Ri-hyang was blocking their heat, they would never reach me.
"There's no time. Within a quarter of an hour, one of us—you or me—is going to die."
It was a resolve I had already made, but I voiced it anyway.
Not for my own sake, but for Seol Ri-hyang to hear.
A request that I hold out for just a quarter of an hour, and that I not touch the True Origin Vital Energy before then.
I don't know if it reached her. But I do know that what I need to do has become clear.
I gather all the internal energy that had been protecting my body, and all the killing intent I had been releasing to pressure the Blood Flame Fist Demon, and pour it into my sword.
Whoosh!
The crimson energy that had been flickering above the blade sharpens further, transforming into blazing flames.
Unlike the Blood Flame Fist Demon's, there is no heat to it at all—instead, the inherent killing intent makes it feel cold. This is a dense Sword Flame.
A flame that is not a flame devours the flames of the Blood Flame Death Cultivation.
It is said that this energy carries a sharpness like a pointed awl within its overwhelming force, so no matter how much internal energy protects one, it will pierce through.
He would not be able to handle internal energy of this density, nor the killing intent melted within it.
"…Do you think anything will change by doing this? I no longer need hostages. I'll kill that woman first, and then burn you to ashes!"
"No. It will not be so."
No more pain can be felt from the rotten hand. Forgetting even the pain, just the sensation of becoming one with the sword.
Entrusting myself wholly to the realm of Sword-Mind Unity, I continued speaking.
"I have decided so."
Because I will make it so.
I swallowed the rest of my words and swung the sword. A horizontal slash with no particular skill mixed in—just a strike faithful to the basics.
One of the three techniques I had learned first, the Three Talents Sword Technique—a method no one thought much of, yet none could deny was the very foundation of swordsmanship. This particular strike was called the Horizontal Sweep of a Thousand Armies.
"Hah! I wondered what you were up to, and it's just this—"
Swoosh.
The Blood Flame Fist Demon sneered as he thrust his fist forward. A long, thin sword wound had already been carved into the side of his forearm.
"What is this…?"
The Blood Flame Fist Demon stared at his wound with a stunned expression.
It wasn't that he was shocked by how easily my sword had sliced through the Qi Flame of the Blood Flame Death Cultivation. Hadn't he already experienced that once before?
"I couldn't even see it!"
What startled him was the sword strike itself—the fact that he hadn't even been able to mount a proper response.
Instead of feeling joy or excitement at that reaction, I merely swung the next sword with indifference.
Swick!
"Kugh!"
Taesan-apjeong. A vertical cut so straightforward that its very simplicity made it powerful—and now a fresh sword wound was carved into the Blood Flame Fist Demon's other arm.
Neither wound was particularly deep. They were only slightly deeper than the first cut he'd taken, and to a Transcendent Peak martial artist, they could never be fatal.
Rather, the blood flowing from the wounds only fed the flames of the Blood Flame Death Cultivation.
But what did that matter? My sword was not yet finished.
As if to keep me from approaching, a single flash of light pierces through the greatly inflated Qi Flame.
Some call it the Eight Directions Wind and Rain, others call it the Immortal's Knowing Finger, but unlike such grandiose names, it was a plain and upright thrust.
The barely inflated energy is forcibly scattered, and I continue to swing my sword toward the flustered Blood Flame Fist Demon.
The Jeoksa Sword, which I stole with my eyes from the leader of the Jeoksa Faction. The Blood Wolf Sword, which persistently seeks out wounds. The unstable Swift Sword, which I learned by offering my few remaining possessions to a nameless wanderer.
Beyond these, every sword method and its mystery that I had ever learned begins to unfold in turn.
This is a form of sorting, an act of examining myself from the very bottom.
I had embraced my own hell within my mind, but that hell did not contain only flames.
A single pear that left only its fragrance behind, and a camellia flower that dyed the snowy field red. …And the sword I had never let go of in every moment.
Having saved Seol Ri-hyang and Seomun Hwa-rin, and having killed the Lord of the Black Heaven Sword Gate, most of the scenes within my mind had reached a form of closure.
But the sword alone was the exception.
In the past, a sword had been in my hand, and even now, I hold a sword in my grasp.
So I trace back from the very beginning. And in doing so, I feel out the path of the sword I must walk forward.
At first, the sword strikes were simple and lacking in depth, but as I continued to link them together, they began to grow increasingly refined and complex.
The Blood Flame Fist Demon wildly swung his fists, raising ever larger and more spectacular flames… but that alone could not block my sword.
The moment I realized the mystery of the first strong sword, the Blood Flame Fist Demon's pinky finger was severed.
And the moment I realized the mysteries of Change and Hwanui, he received a sword wound running from his cheekbone down to his collarbone.
By the time I could wield the sword in its full, perfect form, a faint wound had appeared on my chest.
After that, I learned to use rotation to maximize power in an instant, and applied it to my defense, executing the technique of transplanting flowers onto withered branches, allowing me to disperse the flames of the Blood Flame Death Cultivation with even greater ease.
The sword wounds that had once been carved only into the Blood Flame Fist Demon's fists and forearms were now cutting across his entire body.
"This… this can't be. This is impossible!"
The Blood Flame Fist Demon screamed, drenched in blood. Thanks to the sheer amount of blood he was losing, the flames of the Blood Flame Death Cultivation surrounding him blazed more fiercely than I had ever seen, even before my regression.
But neither his anguished cries nor his merely ferocious flames could touch me.
I kept cutting, and cutting again. As if I myself had become a single sword.
Perhaps some part of my inner vision had been conveyed to him in the process. The Blood Flame Fist Demon's expression twisted violently as he realized something.
"Aren't you the same?! I don't know the reason, but your grudge is aimed at the Demonic Cult—your true target for revenge must be someone else! What right do you have to cut me down?!"
He was right. If I were to argue by reason alone, the number of people I truly needed to avenge myself upon wasn't that many.
The Black Heaven Sword Emperor and the Heavenly Demon. And a few Demonic Heads—that was all.
Most Demonic Cultists, including the Blood Flame Fist Demon, held no direct grudge against me.
And even that grudge—wasn't it something that hadn't even happened yet in this life?
I had cut down the Lord of the Black Heaven Sword Gate with vengeance in my heart—a man who had not yet killed Seol Ri-hyang or Seomun Hwa-rin, who had not yet become the Black Heaven Sword Emperor.
I was burning with revenge against the Heavenly Demon—who had not yet invaded the Central Plains, who had not yet killed Tang So-wol.
And that had become hostility toward the entire Demonic Cult.
In a way, I might not be all that different from the Blood Flame Fist Demon. But.
"You're mistaken about one thing. The reason I wield my sword now is not for revenge or some grudge with nowhere to go."
"Then what in the world is it for!"
A person must know what is right, know when to step back, and know when to look within themselves.
Such high-minded talk doesn't suit me. I simply…
"It's for the people who believe in me."
Even someone like me has people who believe in me unconditionally, who are willing to stake their lives on me.
If that's the case, isn't repaying them the proper thing to do?
Whether my answer was unexpected, Blood Flame Fist Demon flinched, his eyes widening. It was the perfect opportunity, but the problem was that my sword strike had also just reached its end.
From the moment I first held a sword, to the most recent enlightenment I had gained.
Even after pouring out everything I had, one strike was not enough.
…Then I simply needed to take one step forward.
As if pushed by the back of all the time I had accumulated, my body moved naturally.
The sword traced a bizarre trajectory that even I, who wielded it, could not understand.
It was of a different nature from Sword-Mind Unity. With a certain sense of oneness, the sword embedded itself in Blood Flame Fist Demon's neck.
The blood that sprayed out could no longer turn into flames.