Another Slaughter Ghost, which had been heading toward Gwiyeong Sin-tu, turned and rushed at me instead.
Was it because it had lost its comrade to an unexpected opponent in an instant? The eyes visible through its mask trembled relentlessly.
I grinned at the creature, its emotional turmoil plain to see.
"Next."
But the thing simply changed course and began unleashing its Light-Body Technique at full power, heading back toward Gwiyeong Sin-tu.
It wasn't that I'd never faced an assassin before, but this was the first time I'd seen one turn tail and flee like this.
"Hoh."
I swallowed the dry laugh that slipped out on its own.
It was true that I had regained a portion of my past cultivation and reached the early stage of the Peak Realm. But that was a level achieved through internal energy alone.
Now I could meet a sword wrapped in Sword Qi with my own Sword Qi instead of having to dodge it, and with that alone I was confident I could bring down most opponents… but.
My body had not yet reached a level befitting a Peak Realm martial artist.
No matter how much internal energy I wrapped around myself, my foundation in External Arts training was lacking, so I couldn't push my physical capabilities past a certain point.
In other words, the speed of my Light-Body Technique, which required moving my whole body, was bound to be slow.
That was probably why the bastard had chosen to head for Gwiyeong Sin-tu instead of facing me — he'd noticed it from our earlier exchange.
It was a bit absurd, but considering that their goal had been Gwiyeong Sin-tu all along rather than me, I could understand it.
A martial artist who had reached a certain level of mastery would carry pride regardless of their sect, but an assassin had none of that.
His back was already receding quickly, true to an assassin's footwork. Chasing him was out of the question, so I shouted at the top of my lungs.
"Elder! We missed one!"
Gwiyeong Sin-tu glanced my way mid-fight. He didn't answer — no room for it — but his movements shifted slightly.
He stopped throwing punches whenever he saw an opening and focused solely on evasion.
Now that I looked, his body was aged and slow, and with one leg missing, he couldn't chain movements together… but even accounting for that, Gwiyeong Sin-tu's footwork was admirable.
He moved as if sliding across the ground, unpredictable, and exploited gaps in perception to force a response half a beat too slow.
And sometimes he'd plant his foot on the cliff the Slaughter Ghosts had ridden in on and launch himself off it — yet not once did his stance waver.
It was no lie that in his prime, he had raided places guarded by Harmony Realm martial artists.
At this level, there should be no problem holding out for a while.
With a lighter heart, I stamped the ground and shot toward where Gwiyeong Sin-tu was.
On the way, I glanced at Tang So-wol and the vice-captain… Hmm. No need to worry about that side.
Most of the first-rate assassins were dead or dying from Tang So-wol's poison, and the one Slaughter Ghost still able to fight was stuck in a pool of poison energy, held down by the Vice-Captain of the Poison Blood Squad.
At this rate, they'd all be taken down before long. So in the end, I just had to handle my side.
I turned my gaze forward again. The distance had closed considerably. As if trying to keep me in check, two black-painted Flying Daggers came at me… but.
No matter how seasoned a Slaughter Ghost was in the art of killing, as long as it was human, it couldn't completely hide its killing intent.
There was only one being capable of that. The Heavenly Demon I had glimpsed at the final moment.
I read the trajectories aimed at my instep and brow in advance and moved.
Clang!
The Flying Dagger aimed at my brow was knocked away with my sword, and for the one aimed at my instep, I made a slight change to my footwork, swapping the order of my left and right steps.
The Flying Dagger embedded itself in the ground a step ahead of me. I kicked it up with the same speed I was running at and sent it spinning back toward the nearest Slaughter Ghost.
The Flying Dagger spun through the air. I hadn't learned any Hidden Weapon Art, and it was merely kicked with my foot rather than thrown by hand, so its speed wasn't particularly impressive.
But a blade was still a blade. Unless one had Protective Qi wrapped around them, they had no choice but to respond.
"Tch."
One of the Killing Ghosts clicked its tongue and twisted its body. It hadn't fully dodged—it had merely let the blade graze past its flank.
That brief moment of hesitation was enough.
"White Killing Ghost! Watch out! As I said before, that one is…!"
The one who had seen me cut down a Killing Ghost in an instant shouted urgently, but it was already too late.
The center of my sole. I exploded my internal energy outward through Yongcheonhyeol.
Boom!
One foot lost all sensation in an instant. A dull, numbing pain rose belatedly, but in its place, I gained a sudden burst of acceleration.
A single leap—the only one my current body could manage.
The distance between us closed fast, and the one called White Killing Ghost's eyes flew wide as he spun toward me instead of Gwiyeong Sin-tu.
Mid-fight as he was, his fist—already wrapped in Fist Energy—came thrusting my way.
No, it looked like a punch, but the loose grip told me he meant to either knock the sword aside with the back of his hand or simply snatch the blade outright if things went wrong.
Not a bad call. A well-trained boxer's hand is tough enough that an ordinary blade struggles to cut it, and besides, a fist backed by internal energy and driven with Fist Energy hits harder than any External Object of a weapon.
And my appearance was still that of a mere boy of the Age of Fifteen, wasn't it? He'd never expect to lose a contest of raw strength like this.
Any martial artist with skill and experience would have made the same judgment.
But I was someone who stood outside such common sense. After all, who would ever think the enemy before their eyes had undergone something as unreal as regression?
I drew the shoulder holding my sword all the way back, as if pulling
A faint sneer bloomed in the White Killing Ghost's eyes at my obvious thrusting stance.
After all, every technique built around a thrust was powerful and fast, but if it failed, it left one wide open.
By now, he probably thought of me as some inexperienced fool drunk on his own martial level, unable to gauge the gap in internal energy between us.
Just as I wanted.
"Hah."
I drew in a deep breath and pulled up the internal energy in my Dantian. The killing-intent-laced energy of the Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art began to concentrate along the sword's edge, following my will.
A wild temperament, like a beast that could lash out in any direction. But to me, it was merely a limb I had lived with for a long time.
The amount wasn't satisfying yet, but it was enough to employ a bit of skill.
A red current slowly rising over the blade. The sword qi, growing denser by the moment, began to rotate at some point.
Sword qi tracing a spiral, centered on the tip aimed at the White Killing Ghost.
Shock rises in the White Killing Ghost's eyes at the crimson vortex staining the air.
At the same time, the foot that had been floating for so long finally touched the ground.
Thud!
He stomps hard, planting his stance. The body that had been running comes to an abrupt halt, and that force travels straight up through the ankle.
Past the calf, the knee, the thigh, the flank, and then the back, rising higher still.
Passed without obstruction through the small rotations traced by muscles and joints, and amplified further in the process.
Four Ounces Move Thousand Catties. Also known as the Mystery of Flow.
The Taoist priests of Wudang were said to turn even external currents to their own use, reversing waterfalls themselves.
I lack that level of skill or enlightenment, but I do have the knack of transmitting the force that flows in through my heel up to my shoulder.
And the moment that full power, in the truest sense of the word, reaches my shoulder — I pour the Mystery of Speed into my arm, drawn taut to its limit, and unleash it all at once.
KWAANG!
An air-splitting sound close to an explosion. A vortex of red Sword Qi tears through the air as it surges forward.
The White Killing Ghost gritted his teeth, his fist clenched tight, the Fist Energy covering it growing thicker still.
He seemed to have abandoned the option of deflecting or catching the sword as he had moments before.
As befits an assassin, his fist technique was nothing extraordinary—but midway through, his elbow extended by about a joint, twisting the fist's trajectory in a bizarre curve.
Still, a deviation of this degree meant little.
The moment the thrusting sword and the fist drew close, the trajectory—already warped once by the vortex swirling around the blade—bent again as if dragged along.
Fist and sword tip collided. A brief standoff between Sword Qi and Fist Energy. And then—
Thunk!
The sword, having pierced through the fist and the entire arm in an instant, drove straight through his neck.
"…!"
He opened and closed his mouth, but only the sound of escaping air came out before he collapsed where he stood.
Phew.
I let out the breath I had been holding and let my stiff shoulders droop.
Until now, I had been fighting with only my body due to a lack of internal energy, but it felt a little good to properly use Sword Qi for the first time in a while.
No matter how I looked at it, I really did love the sword.
Of course, that strike just now had a considerable backlash on me as well.
My remaining internal energy was now only about half, I had suffered a light internal injury to my Meridians from overexerting my energy, and because I hadn't fully delivered the force despite incorporating the mystery of Four Ounces Move Thousand Catties, letting a bit of it slip, my whole body felt numb as if I had been hit all over.
Still, I had taken down one Slaughter Ghost in a single breath, so overall, it was a gain.
Now it was two against two, wasn't it? With the numerical disadvantage gone, the weight of skill would only grow larger.
And I was confident that in terms of skill, I fell behind no one. Unless it was a Harmony Realm martial artist—one of those called absolute masters—someone like those assassins who had merely made a name for themselves couldn't even touch me.
Perhaps it was because, at the age of fifteen, I could unleash Sword Qi at will, and had even slain a Peak Realm martial artist called a Slaughter Ghost with a single sword strike.
Gwiyeong Sin-tu opened his mouth with an expression that held both admiration and disbelief.
"In my twilight years, I've seen two heaven-sent geniuses."
"One would be me, and who is the other?"
"Did I not tell you? The current Demonic Cult Leader."
"…Well, I'm not sure I'm quite at that level."
I gave a bitter smile at Gwiyeong Sin-tu's words and shook my head.
My strength comes not from talent, but from the unique experience of regression.
I will grow quickly until I reach the level I attained in my previous life. But what awaits me beyond that is the lofty wall of the Harmony Realm.
In my past life, I had only knocked on that wall until the moment I faced death itself, having passed through the crisis of death only to meet death head-on.
But the Heavenly Demon was different. He withstood the coordinated attacks of Harmony Realm martial artists who had long since leaped over the wall I could never cross, and conversely struck down most of them.
Gwiyeong Sin-tu risked his life to steal the Spiritual Medicine that was to be presented to the Heavenly Demon, but… frankly speaking, I don't think this will lead to the Heavenly Demon's weakening.
And that's because I still vividly remember the final moment of my previous life—when the Poison Lady, Tang So-wol, who had reached the Harmony Realm, was struck down in just a few moves, and then I, enraged and charging at him, was crushed with a single gesture.
A colossal pitch-black Demonic Qi that engulfed the world. An overwhelming Force Qi Skill befitting the arrogant alias of Heavenly Demon.
No matter how remarkable the Spiritual Medicine, it would likely be of little consequence to one who wields such power.
In reality, the Spiritual Medicine that Gwiyeong Sin-tu stole from the Demonic Cult eventually flowed into the hands of some lucky thugs, not the Heavenly Demon.
This time, we were discovered by the assassin tracking us because of the traces we left behind; before the regression, we would have remained hidden to the very end and quietly drawn our last breath.
But being treated like a true monster like that can only leave a bitter taste.
Still, no matter how hopeless things seem, I can't just sit back with my hands folded. I'll simply do what I must.
First, finishing off the Slaughter Ghost before me…
"Hm?"
The moment they confirmed that a single sword strike had taken down one Slaughter Ghost, the ones who had retreated far away exchanged glances and bit down hard on their teeth—as if chewing on a pill they had tucked between them.
Following that, their Aura began to surge explosively, their skin turning a dark, murky color while a bloody light flickered in their eyes.
It wasn't perfect, but true to their reputation as skilled assassins, the killing intent they had secretly refined lashed out wildly in every direction—a bonus on top of everything else.
At a glance, they looked like they had fallen into Qi Deviation. But I knew better. This was no mere Qi Deviation.
"Mapokdan? Why would an assassin have that…"
Mapokdan was a secret art of the Demonic Cult.
No matter how much Assassin Valley was carrying out the Demonic Cult's requests, it wasn't something they could easily get their hands on.