Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Evil Sect
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Suddenly hearing an unexpected sound, So-hyang approached them with an amused smile.
Even faster than Moon Shadow's breakthrough from before, more stealthily than the silver arrow Il-ho had loosed, she was already nearby in the blink of an eye.
"Nice to meet you. Mind if I ask a few questions?"
"-Uwaaak! A ghost!!!"
A woman in white had appeared, completely ignoring the senses of peak experts at the pinnacle, and even the color of her eyes was white—it was only natural they'd think that.
"Hngk!?"
"Hiiyaak! Why do you sneak up without any presence…!"
Standing before the group clutching their hearts in agony, So-hyang posed her question.
"Marx, Engels, Lenin, Capital, sickle and hammer, communism, class struggle, proletarian revolution, communal ownership of the means of production—ever heard of them?"
"…W-what?"
It wasn't a question thrown out expecting an answer.
If these people shared the ideology So-hyang knew, there would inevitably be some reaction.
Observing with narrowed eyes that caught the slightest changes in their expressions.
Listening with ears that picked up even the pounding of their hearts and the flow of their blood.
And by spreading her divine sense, which enveloped the space and perceived the stirrings of their souls.
"…!? What the hell are you babbling about!! Who the hell are you!"
She didn't even need their verbal response to understand their thoughts.
Thus, So-hyang was certain.
Though their ideology bore some resemblance to the one So-hyang knew, it was far too immature, lacking any real strategy, and utterly unappealing.
In her previous life, the red ideology that once shook the world had always lingered around humanity.
The scholars of the modern era had merely compiled and systematized it, but the pursuit of equality and freedom was akin to human instinct.
That's why the crude saying "reds sprout up naturally" wasn't without basis—it was like convergent evolution, where similar ideologies arose independently.
Just a coincidence, perhaps.
Rebellion against the ruling class, always present in human society…
But something felt off about calling it that.
While malcontents who saw good governance as dictatorship existed in every world, if the world itself was truly different, so was the story.
First off, there was a well-known counterexample.
The ancient era of Demonic Supremacy was the prime instance, but no need to go that far back—just consider the turmoil a few hundred years ago.
Before the War God appeared and a new order was accepted, before the nominal inviolability of the bureaucracy was formalized through treaties.
The vices of the martial artists in that transitional period between old and new murim were still infamous.
What happens when the powerful go unchecked? It was all too obvious.
And another thing: such ideologies typically surged during times of hardship, yet the lives of the empire's people weren't that tough.
The world under imperial rule was, quite literally, a golden age.
Even from So-hyang's modern perspective, the empire was an exceptionally livable nation.
Of course, classes existed, and a small underclass of paupers and criminals was inevitable, but overall living standards were remarkably high.
Astonishingly, this world had no term like "Yao-Shun era"—the empire's golden age filled that role.
And it was ongoing.
Not through overwhelming force or coercion, but genuine competence and excellent governance from the imperial family.
Thanks to constant oversight and upright leadership, bureaucrats might take minor bribes or commit small corruptions, but outright tyrannical officials threatening the populace were rare.
Of course, the occasional madman with an oversized gut popped up, but exceptions couldn't be entirely prevented.
The reason their rule had lasted over ten millennia wasn't mere worship of the Great Dragon Blood—it was proven legitimacy.
Dragons weren't metaphorical; they were divine beings of godly stature.
Not rhetoric, but actual divine bloodlines ruling the nation, and ruling impeccably well?
It was the unity of divine right and absolute power—anything less would be the anomaly.
Thus, to the Central Plains folk, words like "rule" and "domination" carried little negative connotation.
They were seen as natural laws, like the sun rising in the east or spring following winter, beyond dispute.
In that context, claiming the emperor was an unjust tyrant suppressing freedom? Even street urchins would find it hard to sympathize.
For that reason, So-hyang's face took on a puzzled expression.
"Hmm, something's off about this."
It wasn't a natural emergence—the environment didn't foster it—and it was too diluted to be knowledge spread by someone like So-hyang or that graduate student from the academy.
"Their methods are amateurish too…."
If they truly wanted to change society, they'd spread ideology subtly through books or propaganda.
No matter how livable the empire was, ideology held an opium-like allure; with intent, it could seep in.
If propagated by insightful thinkers or intellectuals, their current approach would be the worst blunder.
Even if pure destruction and societal backlash were the goal, it was still clumsy.
Rebelling against the imperial family, yet their acts amounted to sneaking onto empty trains to wreck facilities—what meaning did that hold?
Compared to her past life's terrorism—holding civilians hostage, sowing fear through elusive sabotage—this was half-baked.
Perhaps because direct power through martial arts existed, they lacked the ingenuity for clever action.
So-hyang recalled those who overturned society despite scant capital and numbers, compensating with sheer audacity, boldness, and madness.
Truly terrifying, proving humanity's malice through outlandish cruelty—she'd been awed more than once.
Groups that couldn't be crushed by force alone, which even the mightiest nations of her past life failed to eradicate completely.
She remembered those filthy, sticky, tenacious plagues sharing a transnational ideology bent on world destruction.
"Compared to them, this is just innocently naive…."
By So-hyang's standards, these black-clad figures were less villains and more fools.
"What the hell are you spouting…!"
"Sigh… Such pitiful people."
Her evaluation, laced with subtle disappointment and pity, drawn out with a sigh, made the black-clad ones flush and raise their voices.
The reason was unknown, but it was an intensely shameful, pride-wounding, unpleasant gaze.
"Don't look at us, at me, like that!!"
They'd gouge out those eyes and chew them if they could, even at the cost of their lives.
A burst of aura erupted from the black-clad figures.
Vast, turbid demonic energy, disproportionate to their level.
"Hm?"
A spark of interest flickered in So-hyang's eyes.
Primitive demonic arts reaching the demonic through emotions of injustice and malice.
Buried since the Demonic Supremacy era, complete eradication was impossible.
Unlike systematized modern martial arts from deep contemplation or orthodox demonic arts forged in Heavenly Demon-guided asceticism, this was fundamentally different.
It was too easy a path.
A power anyone craving strength could reach instinctively.
No matter what lineage was severed, it sprouted anew from the dregs like weeds.
And their forms were eerily similar.
Pride, greed, wrath, lust, gluttony, sloth.
And envy.
Those drawing twisted power from the seven deadly sins were perennial evils since the Demonic Supremacy.
"Why do only you all have such power, look down on me so highly, so arrogantly!!!"
Envy and jealousy toward what they lacked, festering into resentment and hatred, birthing malice.
These were addicts to spite.
"…Tch, I suspected as much. Typical of you Evil Sect heretics."
Moon Shadow frowned pityingly at the pitch-black sclera soaked in demonic energy, bloodshot eyes from raging qi and blood—unmistakable signs.
Even if they practiced demonic arts and aped religion, they weren't called a Demonic Cult.
Since the Heavenly Demon, Demonic Cult meant solely the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult; in that world, the name belonged to them alone.
If foolish heretics dared claim it, ascetics from the Heavenly Mountains would fly into rage, pulverizing their skulls.
And if the world called them that, it was the mildest expression of disapproval.
Thus, they flaunted grandiose names like Taepyeong Cult or Inyeon Mansang Cult, but never used the character for "demon."
The world scorned them merely as Evil Sects.
"Dieeeee!!!"
Essentially sea beasts and demonic creatures in human form.
Their intents, felt through So-hyang's divine sense, brimmed with inferiority-fueled madness.
Fierce envy toward everyone but themselves.
Why are you happy?
Why do you have power?
Why do you look down on us?
Come down here. Wallow in the muck with us.
"As expected, the ideology was just a pretext."
So-hyang understood the source of her unease.
They weren't rebelling against society out of rational conviction.
Rebellion for rebellion's sake, envy for envy's sake.
No intelligence or foresight was natural—the goal wasn't spreading ideology, but harming others.
Whoever transmitted the original ideology had chosen the wrong audience.
To share ideology, at least a baseline of human empathy was needed, no?
"Kraaaagh!!!"
Despite severed tendons in their limbs, they thrashed like beasts.
It stemmed from recklessly mining and squandering deep-seated demonic energy.
"-No matter what, you're just beasts!"
But Moon Shadow responded nonchalantly. Stronger or not, they were mindless animals.
With attacks' paths plainly visible, countering was even easier than before.
"-Why!!! Whyyyyy!!!"
Yet they were demonic beasts too.
Deviating from the righteous path was dangerous, but could yield freakish results.
Like naturally occurring demonic weapons or beasts, rare ones showed anomalous traits.
"Let, me, have them!!! Your lives!! Hand them over!!"
The attack's trajectory twisted, a great scythe laden with baleful demonic energy swinging toward the subdued subordinates.
"-What?"
Catching them off-guard with bizarre, common-sense-defying action, in that instant, the bodies and heads of all fifteen black-clad figures separated.
Fountains of blood gushed fiercely.
Ideology or demonic energy aside, like all humans, it was a beautiful scarlet hue.
A scythe was a tool of harvest, for reaping sheaves to claim rice grains.
Drenched in his yield, the man twisted his lips in grotesque ecstasy.
"Heh, ha, haha!!"
A primal human sacrifice via slaughter, seizing power and nourishing body and soul—barbaric, but effective.
"Grrrgrrr…!"
The backlash stripped even speech, his skeleton warping into a hideous form.
But the gains were real: raw power.
"Kraaaaaagh!!!"
"-Kuhk!?"
The same simple, predictable strikes, yet now harder to counter.
Simply faster and stronger, compensating even for that flaw.
With sanity shattered and mutation set in, capture impossible, she aimed to kill by thrusting at the heart.
"…! It won't pierce!?"
It was a thrust wrapped in sword silk. Yet it barely pierced skin, not reaching the heart.
"F-fine then!!!"
Casually swatting Il-ho's incoming arrow from behind, he lunged at the hateful woman who scorned him.
"Die, you biiitch!!!"
Mutated flesh plus explosive demonic energy birthed an indescribably ferocious blow crashing toward the white-clad woman.
He'd chew her flesh, violate every orifice, rip her mocking mouth and trample her face while laughing back.
His lips twisted in venomous malice, spawned from envy and branching into every foul form.
"Hm, decent power… but everything else is worse than trash?"
Though the scythe's curved blade was pinched motionless between her thumb and middle finger.
"G-grrrk?"