A hint of pride rose in me at the sight of me holding my own against five Harmony Realm martial artists alone, but I didn't forget what I had to do.
"Show me how far you can go."
I curled my lips into a grin and began swinging my sword without pause.
No sword art that tore through space, no trick of scattering the opponent's Intent with concentrated killing intent, no wielding a sword in each hand with the Formless Sword, and I didn't even wrap myself in Protective Qi.
Just a single sword gripped in both hands. A white sword blazing white-hot above. And the Formless Sword overlapping and rippling—that was all.
There was no grand technique. No mysterious moves. Just a sharp, solid blade aiming for vital points.
The brow, the nape of the neck, the wrist, the solar plexus, the groin, the heart, the eyes—and so on.
The relentless sword strikes aimed for the most vulnerable spots without a single moment of hesitation…
The Sword Demon's sword was no different from mine.
A blood-red blade that seemed to drip with gore. The Formless Sword rippling above it was less a pure Intent toward the sword and more a condensed killing intent, but the result was the same.
Clang. Clang!
There was no explosive sound of two Auras colliding and repelling each other.
The only sound was the metallic ring of sword striking sword.
Strictly speaking, the Auras did clash—but that was only because the Intent contained within them was that of the "sword."
Because both I and the Sword Demon believed a sword was a blade forged of iron.
And so we kept swinging our swords. Sometimes our blades met edge to edge in a contest of strength, sometimes we let them slide off each other like water, sending sparks flying, and sometimes we dodged by twisting our bodies just slightly—simply swinging our swords, over and over.
The same martial art. The same enlightenment. Even the same logic of battle.
It was a strange sensation, as if I were facing a mirror. Amid the clash of pure sword arts, a thread of exhilaration bloomed.
Even when I struck with all my strength, my opponent received it as if it were only natural.
Likewise, my opponent struck at me with everything they had, and I, too, deflected it as if it were only natural.
Martial artists who have reached a certain level can understand each other through the exchange of martial arts.
So what happens when you pit your martial art against yourself?
I don't know what name to give this sensation. But if I had to pick a word close to it, it would be a sense of oneness.
Even though the swordsmanship clashing before me was filled with nothing but the killing intent to slay the opponent, devoid of any profound teachings.
Perhaps because the exchange was matching so perfectly, there was a moment where it felt less like a sword duel and more like a sword dance.
Suddenly, the Sword Demon's swordsmanship began to change.
"Huh?"
He charges in where he shouldn't. He swings his sword where he shouldn't, and instead of blocking where he should stand his ground, he forcibly dodges, accepting minor wounds.
It looked like he was wielding the already reckless Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art even more aggressively.
The perfectly synced exchange began to fall apart, and the metallic clang of sword against sword that had been ringing in my ears turned into a dissonant clash.
Bit by bit. But I could clearly feel myself being pushed onto the defensive.
Only after I found myself swinging my sword more often to deflect the blades flying at me than to cut down the Sword Demon did I finally understand.
"So that's it."
The decisive difference between the Sword Demon and me.
It wasn't simply that he was insane. Nor was he intoxicated by his own killing intent.
The same martial art. The same enlightenment. And the same logic of battle.
But the imagery contained within was different.
The enlightenment I had gained upon reaching the Harmony Realm was my true heart — the realization that the fundamental reason I wield a sword is not to kill enemies, but to protect what stands behind me.
The Sword Demon, on the other hand, was different. He wasn't merely inheriting my Simma and rampaging out of his mind…
"So he's fully accepted the demon."
The Simma. The seething killing intent. The curse hurled at the world. And the anger that only continued to grow.
He hadn't merely swallowed all of it — he had made it the very foundation of his martial art.
If I had never met Tang So-wol, or if I hadn't been able to correct so much through my regression.
If I had stepped beyond the level of a righteous artist and set foot on the demonic path.
I would surely have become exactly what the Sword Demon before me is now.
The Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art is inherently aggressive enough to thrust its head into the face of any threat… but that's only possible because there's a calculation behind it that one won't suffer serious injury.
A single inch.
A single inch of penetration is enough to take a person's life, and conversely, even if one's vital points are cut, as long as one doesn't yield even an inch, one won't die.
That is why every gap in the Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art is executed with the minimum standard of a single inch in mind.
The Sword Demon had no such standard. No, it would be more accurate to say he had a standard completely different from mine.
As long as he could kill his opponent, he was willing to suffer any number of fatal wounds.
Kill. Kill no matter what. Even if I can no longer use martial arts, kill. Even if my own life comes to an end, you alone will die.
Such blatant killing intent gradually thickened and began pressing down on me.
I was quite accustomed to killing intent myself, so it didn't cause any particular problem… but the fact that I had lost the Aura, the initiative, was a problem.
Clang! Clang!
The Sword Demon approached, accompanied by a clamorous din. I, on the other hand, had no choice but to retreat step by step.
A diagonal downward slash. If I swung it as is, I would surely carve a deep gash across the Sword Demon's chest. In exchange, a hole would open in my heart.
A vertical rising cut. This too, if swung as is, would surely split the Sword Demon from abdomen to heart. The small problem being that my neck and body would be separated in return.
Forced to choose between these options again and again, the Sword Demon gradually gained the upper hand—a sight that felt somehow familiar.
Slowly eroding and gnawing away at the opponent's martial art. Until finally landing an inevitable blow that could neither be dodged nor blocked.
Isn't that all my own preferred method?
"I have no intention of just taking it lying down."
Before I completely lost the initiative, I drew in a deep breath. And then came the ensuing loud noise.
Kwa-rung!
It wasn't the sound of swords clashing. It was the sound of my body tearing through the air, unable to withstand the impact.
Thunder Step Sword.
A technique that unleashes a sword strike faster than thunder and as fierce as lightning, swung with every ounce of my strength.
As I unleashed it in succession, the Sword Demon likewise began countering with the Thunder Step Sword.
Kwa-ang! Ka-kak! Kak!
The sound of swords colliding, which should have been a clear metallic ring, turned dull from the excessive force.
A swift sword that even I couldn't fully control. Thanks to that, my grip on the sword inevitably loosened for a moment.
The sword, having lost its precision for a moment, could no longer press me as meticulously as before, and the fight devolved into a simple contest of strength.
…With this, I've bought a little time.
But to solve the root of the problem, I'd need to approach it differently than I was now.
The method was simple.
"Everyone, now!"
I wasn't fighting alone, so why would I stubbornly cling to this struggle?
Those who had been staring blankly at me after my earlier shout began stepping forward one by one, launching a coordinated attack.
Had they realized poison was meaningless? Tang Jincheon leaped high and, as if pouring out every hidden weapon he carried, threw an amount that couldn't even be compared to before—all at nearly the same moment.
Ten Thousand Flowers Rain.
In an instant, countless hidden weapons poured down, filling one corner of my vision. All aimed precisely at the Sword Demon.
Tang Jincheon, true to his alias of Poison King, was more skilled in poison arts. Even to my eyes, a slight opening was visible, enough to seem somewhat lacking…
Still, Ten Thousand Flowers Rain was Ten Thousand Flowers Rain.
It would be more than enough to turn a single person into a pincushion, let alone tear them apart.
At the same time, the Illusion Witch also brought out her own secret technique.
In one hand, she held a ritual implement that seemed fit for a Taoist; with the other, she twisted her fingers intricately, forming a hand seal.
Yet the words spilling from her mouth and the energy flickering in her eyes were utterly sinister.
The Illusion Witch's eyes flashed for an instant, and for a moment, it felt as if the entire area had darkened as though night had fallen.
Thanks to the Heaven's Eye, I could tell. This was the secret art she had shown off earlier when I told her to use any sorcery she pleased.
She must have planted her ritual implements around me and the Sword Demon without my noticing.
It was a sorcery that posed no real threat to me—one I could simply cut through if I made up my mind.
But for a moment, just a brief moment, the feeling of my senses completely vanishing would leave an opening.
Though it had no real power, in the current situation, it was a timely sorcery.
Had she heard about this effect from the Illusion Witch beforehand? Though she had blocked the Sword Demon once, the third one, who had been broken through shortly after, anticipated an opening and immediately drew out her secret technique.
The Murim Alliance Leader's staff fell straight down from above.
But the power contained within it was anything but ordinary. It was a strike with no compromise, as if it cared nothing for what came after, only for killing the opponent before its eyes.
Instead of reaching out his hand, Great Master Jeonghyeon pressed his palms together. My curiosity over what kind of technique would require such a stance lasted only a moment.
A golden energy began to surge from the center of his joined palms.
Even though it was not directed at me, I could not help but sense the majestic aura.
Above all, a clear Buddhist energy shone from Great Master Jeonghyeon's hands, then connected into a double palm strike.
That is an attack that cannot be blocked. It is a blow containing the very essence of Shaolin's martial arts, one that must be dodged at all costs.
As if refusing to be outdone, Seomun Hwa-rin clenched her fist tightly.
Unlike the previous ones, it was not a grand stance. Just a plain fighting posture—feet spread shoulder-width apart, both fists resting at her waist.
But there is a reason a straight punch is called a straight punch.
The power drawn up as the fist is thrust forward. The waist twists, adding rotational force, and the shoulder extends, channeling all of that power squarely into the fist.
What follows is a clean, straight punch.
A bright red Aura gleams, adding size to Seomun Hwa-rin's small fist, though it pales in comparison to the Sword Demon's.
The opening that Tang Jincheon and the Illusion Witch created while I held them off. And the earth-shattering blow that slips through that gap.
It cannot be dodged, nor blocked. Since I have to block my Thunder Sword, deflecting it like before won't be easy either.
This is the end. No matter how much this thing was made in my image, there's no way it can handle this.
If it were just five other Harmony Realm Martial Artists, it might be different—but I've joined the fray as well.
Everyone thought the same.
They had all thought the same.
Amidst the writhing black shadows, the Sword Demon's eyes blazed alone in crimson. Beneath them, a red line traced downward.
As if it were weeping tears of blood.
At the same time, the Sword Demon gave up on blocking my Thunder Sword with its own.
Swick.
It slashed deep into my side. A wound that would have spilled a man's entrails. But only black shadows poured forth.
Thanks to that, the Sword Demon had escaped me—yet it staggered for a moment, as if struck by the Illusion Witch's sorcery.
But the creature's body kept moving. It was swinging its sword instinctively, relying on killing intent rather than its senses.
Guarding the vital points of its body, it swung its sword like a madman, blocking Tang Jincheon's hidden weapons.
No—could this even be called blocking?
Shoulders, thighs, back, abdomen, forearms—it simply took the hits to areas that wouldn't kill it outright or hinder its movement.
The same held true for the three-way joint attack that followed.
Using the swift movements of the Thunder Sword, it barely twisted its body.
The Murim Alliance Leader's staff shattered its left shoulder and collarbone. It would never wield a sword with its left hand again.
The sword swung with its right hand shot straight toward Great Master Jeonghyeon's twin palms.
A keen sword and a sharp thrust. The two met, piercing the majestic Buddhist energy.
The twin palms, which had been linked as a single force, split into two, halving their power. But it was still a strike not to be underestimated.
Crack.
The Sword Demon's ribs, caught in the aftermath, shattered. There were likely more broken bones than intact ones.
Finally, Seomun Hwa-rin's straight punch. Unable to twist his body or swing his sword any longer, the Sword Demon chose footwork.
The internal energy that burst forth through the Yongcheonhyeol sent the Sword Demon's right foot leaping high into the air.
And so, the moment he caught Seomun Hwa-rin's punch with his foot, he once again exploded his internal energy from the Yongcheonhyeol, following the principles of the Thunder Step.
This time, with a reckless force, as if he didn't care if his own foot was destroyed.
KWA-RUNG!
Amid the thunderous roar, a sound of something shattering rang out.
The Sword Demon threw his body backward, as if trying to lessen the impact even a little.
Only after flying a long distance and tumbling across the ground did he slowly lift his head.
Thud.
He drove his sword into the earth and used it as a cane to push himself up.
One arm hung limp, his leg was shattered and he limped, and his ribs were broken as well, making even breathing seem difficult…
Yet the Sword Demon was still alive.
He was still alive, radiating an even more vicious killing intent.
"Ah."
That was it.
I had always been someone who grew stronger in the face of danger.
"I never expected to reach enlightenment here of all places, though."
Being on the receiving end leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.