An axe and a fist wrapped in murky Demonic Qi fly toward Cheon Hwi.
"Th-This!"
The Dark Soul Corps Master, who had been watching per Tang Jincheon's orders, urgently drew up his internal energy and slipped two Flying Daggers between his fingers.
In the martial world, defeating an opponent above one's own martial level is not an uncommon occurrence. Stamina, injuries, surprise attacks, mistakes, talent, and so on.
When various factors align, even a lesser martial artist can drive a blade into a master. And when a person is struck by a blade, nine times out of ten, they die.
As a martial artist of the Tang Clan who dealt in hidden weapons and poison, the Dark Soul Corps Master knew this better than anyone.
But there is such a thing as a proper limit.
Dealing with a single poisoned opponent like Tang So-wol was one thing, but facing two perfectly healthy Peak Realm martial artists was impossible.
The terrifying killing intent he had just displayed was enough to send a chill down even the Dark Soul Corps Master's spine, yet Cheon Hwi's martial level still remained at first-rate.
The Dark Soul Corps Master's arm drew back to its limit, and the Flying Dagger between his fingers began to kindle Sword Qi.
Even now, it wasn't quite too late. Though deflecting it entirely was impossible, it would be enough to twist the trajectory aimed at Cheon Hwi's head.
The moment he was about to loose the dagger with cold, sinking eyes.
Thup.
"That's enough."
"Clan head!"
Tang Jincheon grabbed his arm and stopped him. The Dark Soul Corps Master protested loudly.
"We cannot let the Tang Clan's benefactor die so meaninglessly!"
"That won't happen. Just watch."
His voice sounded cold at first glance. But the Dark Soul Corps Master, who had served under Tang Jincheon for a long time, could tell.
The clear expectation burning in Tang Jincheon's eyes.
As if possessed by something, the Dark Soul Corps Master turned to look where Tang Jincheon's gaze was fixed.
There, Cheon Hwi was swinging his sword with a relaxed expression, the corners of his mouth curled upward.
"Ah."
It did not take long for Tang Jincheon to realize why he had stopped him.
***
Axes and fists came surging in from both sides. Taking a step forward, he swung his sword.
His target was not the blade of the axe, but the shaft, located a little deeper in. Since no internal energy was imbued there, it was a place where the sword could safely meet it.
But that was not to block it.
The axe was a weapon whose instantaneous destructive power surpassed all bounds, and the Breaking Art had developed in a direction that maximized this.
Even an unpowered shaft would carry power that could not be taken lightly. So this was not to block it. It was a sword thrust out to use it.
CRACK!
A dull sound rang out as the sword collided with the shaft, and a portion of the immense force traveled up through my wrist.
Instead of resisting, I let my stance collapse. However, I kept my lower body firmly braced so I wouldn't fall.
My waist bent until it was nearly parallel with the ground in an instant. The fist that flew past overhead, half a beat late, split the air.
This was a technique also known as the Iron Plate Bridge. Normally, I wouldn't have been able to lower my waist this quickly and would have failed to dodge the fist coming from the other side, but the power carried by the axe made it possible.
The bastard realized his own strike had been used against him and ground his teeth.
"You bastard!"
He hurriedly lifted his leg to kick at me. But he couldn't be faster than me, who had already started moving.
I twisted my waist to rise to my feet and, at the same time, thrust my sword toward his floating leg.
Squelch.
Because of my posture, I couldn't cut deep. But the location was none other than the inner thigh. He wouldn't be moving properly for a while.
After making that cut, I exploded my internal energy from Yongcheonhyeol and pulled my body away as if bouncing off.
The soles of my feet were a bit numb, but that was better than taking a punch wrapped in Fist Energy.
KWAANG!
When the martial artist, who belatedly turned around, smashed the ground where I had been standing just moments before, the surface caved in.
With the distance now between us, I calmly examined those who had attacked me.
First, the giant with the axe. No, calling him a giant was a bit off. He was tall, but his body was so gaunt that the outline of his bones showed through.
He swung the heavy axe with a figure that bordered on a walking corpse, a sight full of dissonance—yet precisely because of that, he was a familiar one.
Dan Muksang of the Agwibu.
Before the regression, he had been one of the few Transcendent Peak masters of the Demonic Cult, and… he was a man who had died once by my hand.
Thanks to mastering a martial art that detonates latent power, he could exert tremendous force—but conversely, it was because of that very art that his True Origin Vital Energy had been damaged, leaving him with a body like that.
The boxer standing beside him, however, was someone I did not know.
A bizarre figure: every hair on his body had vanished—not just the hair on his head, but even his eyebrows were gone.
Moreover, the skin exposed by the missing hair was blackened and cracked, reminiscent of a rotten, withered tree. Only the outline suggested that this was a woman.
It was probably a type of External Arts meant to harden the body to an even greater degree.
Both were bizarre sights, but that was the nature of Demonic Arts.
They allowed one to grow stronger quickly through strange methods, sometimes even surpassing the limits of one's talent… but they came with commensurate side effects.
That was why only those willing to pay any price to become stronger ever learned such martial arts.
As I was gauging the two's martial arts, Agwibu, who had sealed the wound on his thigh with Acupoint Sealing to stop the bleeding, glared at me and spoke.
"So it was the right call to target you instead of the Tang Clan's daughter."
"You make it sound as if you could kill me whenever you wished."
"Yes. Just like the hypocrites who call themselves the Orthodox Sects, you'd all swarm in if things went south. It wouldn't be bad to see the bottom of your kind at the last moment."
I narrowed my eyes at Agwibu, who let out a gurgling, phlegmy laugh.
"Don't misunderstand. I meant that you would die by my hand."
I relaxed my shoulders and aimed so the tip of my sword entered the center of my vision. My legs were spread shoulder-width apart, with my left foot extended half a step for ease of movement.
A stance. It was too basic to even call it a Technique.
In that state, I operated the Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art at its extreme once again. Instead of concentrating my boiling killing intent into a single point, I spread it wide.
Agwibu, who had entered the area unfolding around my body, scowled fiercely.
"You brat! For one so young to possess such vicious killing intent! I absolutely cannot let you live!"
"Hah, really. Your Demonic Cult wants to kill every Martial Artist there is anyway. Anyone listening would think you were a virtuous Taoist or monk."
As I let out a snicker, the fist fighter who had been silent until now seized the opening and charged at me.
He was probably trying to catch me off guard while I was distracted by the conversation… but the entire area was already filled with my killing intent.
And to me, killing intent is the foundation of martial arts, a fragment of will melted into my internal energy.
In other words, nothing moving within this space can escape my Qi Sense. Even more so if it harbors killing intent toward me.
I reacted before the fist fighter even moved, twisting my body.
He had closed the distance in an instant, but his sharp claws only grazed past my chest by a hair's breadth.
Swoosh—!
So he uses claw techniques alongside his Fist and Leg Art. The Demonic Qi rippling over his nails, which had hardened like skin and grown even longer, was quite threatening.
Of course, it wouldn't mean anything if he couldn't land a hit.
I struck with my sword before the bastard could retract his outstretched arm.
Clang!
"Huh."
"…!"
I had clearly struck his wrist, yet what rang out was a sound closer to metal.
He was so hard that, aside from a few cracks forming in the calluses, there wasn't a wound worth mentioning.
The boxer, eyes wide, gritted his teeth and thrust his other fist forward. But if I could read his surprise attack, would a blatant strike thrown right in front of me ever land?
Moving half a beat faster in the same manner, I dodged first and swung my sword.
Clang!
The spot I cut this time was the relatively soft armpit. I had aimed for the brief opening revealed as he threw his punch… but the result was no different.
It only left a slightly deeper crack without breaking through the skin.
But there is no perfect martial art in this world. Even if this was an incident against the Heavenly Demon, even Shaolin Temple's Indestructible Vajra Body had been shattered—surely this kind of demonic art couldn't be without a single weakness.
There must be some way.
The one saving grace was that, whether because of his hardened body or simply a lack of Martial Talent, the boxer's martial art was monotonous, not matching his level.
A trait commonly seen in Demonic Cultists forcibly strengthened by demonic arts. If I wanted to avoid, I could keep dodging until he collapsed from exhaustion.
If it were up to me, I would have liked to take my time, slowly cutting here and there to find his weakness… but.
"Kuaaaaah! I'll kill you!!"
The one I was facing now was not alone.
The Agwibu charged across the ground, his body nothing but skin and bones.
With his skin flushed red and a faint bloodlight seeping from his eyes, he must have unleashed his latent power.
He was faster and more threatening than before. Dodging the same way I had against his Cheolpangyo technique earlier would be difficult.
But now that I knew he was none other than the Agwibu, there was no need to worry.
There was no reason to fear a martial art I had already broken once.
I sensed the boxer's leg flying in from the side with my Qi Sense, dodged it, and threw myself toward the Agwibu.
Whoosh!
An immense force that seemed impossible to come from such a small body. The axe, swung with brutal strength and a sound of splitting wind, aimed for the top of my head.
I stepped back half a pace, and the axe struck the innocent floor, leaving a small scratch on the tip of my nose.
CRASH!
The axe embedded deep into the ground. The Agwibu pulled it out quickly, but in that moment, I had already swung my sword.
Shink.
The back of the Agwibu's hand gripping the axe split open deeply, revealing bone. But the bastard, as if feeling no pain, began swinging the axe with all his might, blood streaming from the wound.
The axe came down diagonally, from top to bottom, sometimes striking upward, sometimes thrusting horizontally.
Each individual strike was ordinary, but with each repetition, the speed grew maddeningly fast. And with that speed, the Aura of the demonic energy covering the axe blade grew fiercer as well.
A continuous assault that conjured the image of a storm made of Demonic Qi. His eyes, completely dyed red, had slightly blurred focus. The explosively surging Demonic Qi must have driven him mad.
A display of might that seemed to grind everything around him to dust. However, this was something I had already seen several times. And that, too, from a far higher level displayed by the future Agwibu.
From the center of the storm, I moved my body without rest, swinging my sword.
No matter how I moved half a beat ahead, with speed like this, it was impossible to completely dodge as I had before.
What I could dodge, I dodged; what I couldn't, I pushed my sword into the trajectory and twisted the direction.
If I hadn't devoted myself solely to training at the Tang Clan during that time, if the Spiritual Medicine I received from Tang Yujin hadn't made my Meridians wider and stronger, this would have been far more difficult than it was now.
Of course, it wasn't perfect.
The axe was dodged, but the black swelling growing increasingly fierce was slowly splitting my body apart, Demonic Qi seeping into the wounds.
Unlike ordinary internal energy, the violent Demonic Qi was no different from poison the moment it entered the body…
But I couldn't retreat. If I clumsily widened the distance, I'd fail to keep up with Agwibu's Aura and end up taking a blow to the back from the Fist and Leg Artist who was only waiting for an opportunity.
And I wasn't the only one accumulating wounds.
Slicing!
A chunk of my bangs was cut away. One of Agwibu's fingers was severed.
A red line was drawn across my forearm. Agwibu's flank was torn open.
Blood sprayed from my shoulder, staining my cheek. Agwibu's right ear flew off.
Flesh is torn from my thigh. The tendons in Agwibu's left wrist are severed.
The skin at the back of my neck is ripped open. Agwibu's Dantian is crushed.
A fresh wound is layered over the barely-healed scar on my chest.
Thunk!
And Agwibu's heart is pierced through.