Chapter 100
Chapter 100
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Killing Intent
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dang Heeran hesitated before barely managing to say it. Golden wound salve had been applied to Dang Seona’s cheek, grazed by the hidden weapon. No scar would remain, but the wound mark was still vividly visible for now.
“No need to apologize. I’m glad about it.”
Dang Seona replied with a smile. Dang Heeran made no retort and bowed her head deeply. She knew her sister’s words were sincere consolation. That made Dang Heeran’s feelings all the more complicated. In the end, the hidden weapon technique Dang Heeran had unleashed had merely succeeded in ‘pleasing’ Dang Seona.
“Isn’t your attitude a bit too different? You were cursing at me earlier.”
“Th-that... just slipped out...”
“It’s fine. That made me happy too.”
Dang Seona’s smile grew even brighter. In contrast, Dang Heeran felt a chill run down her spine.
“You worked so hard to beat me.”
At the quiet murmur, Dang Heeran slowly raised her head. Her sister was gazing at her with a beaming smile.
“I can’t even imagine how hard you must have trained. Hmm... If there’s anything that makes you mad, it’s that.”
“...Pardon?”
“Oh, it’s not anger toward you. I’m mad at myself.”
A hand slowly reached out and grasped both of Dang Heeran’s hands. Her dislocated shoulders had been reset, and bandages wrapped around them to keep them from worsening.
Her hands weren’t bandaged, but from hurling hidden weapons relentlessly, they were blistered and swollen red. Dang Seona’s hand gently stroked the backs and palms. At the stinging pain, Dang Heeran’s shoulders flinched.
“I’m angry that I didn’t know you properly.”
“...Sister was busy.”
Dang Heeran answered in a small voice. Dang Seona giggled.
“Of course. Back when I was in the Tang Clan, I was receiving Grandmother’s personal training. But even then, I always kept an eye on you. I knew you were throwing hidden weapons every single day.”
But she hadn’t imagined Dang Heeran’s hidden weapon art had advanced this far. That was the source of Dang Seona’s anger.
“Flying Claw Salutation. Impressive technique. You have others, don’t you?”
“...Yes.”
“You held it back from the start to catch me off guard... Clever move. Well, if you’d used something other than the Heavenly Slaughter Hidden Realm right away, I would’ve handled it differently.”
She would have been greatly startled, but the outcome wouldn’t have changed. That was why Dang Heeran hadn’t used the Deathstrike Hidden Realm from the beginning.
She’d bided her time with the universally known Heavenly Slaughter Hidden Realm, transitioned into Flying Claw Salutation from Myriad Blossoms in the Sky to exploit an opening, and aimed for a reversal.
But the result hadn’t changed.
“Planning out the forms means you’ve established your own martial art, more or less.”
“...It’s not polished enough to show off. Full of flaws.”
“Yeah, looks that way. The joint strain is too much. Both your arms popped right out. You’ll need more refinements.”
Dang Seona fixed Dang Heeran with smiling eyes.
“Want some help?”
“No.”
There was no hesitation in the refusal. Dang Heeran met Dang Seona’s gaze with a resolute expression. It was the same look she’d had during their bout. At that gaze, Dang Seona felt a deep thrill in her chest and nodded.
“Good. But won’t you at least tell me its name?”
“...I called it the Deathstrike Hidden Realm.”
“Want to kill me that badly, huh.”
“That’s... not...”
Her hesitating little sister’s reaction was adorable.
“All martial arts have that element, but hidden weapon arts ultimately aim to kill the opponent for certain.”
Dang Seona said this as she slowly rose to her feet.
“Especially the Tang Clan’s arts—they’re killing techniques aimed at certain death more than any other clan or sect. I know exactly what your Deathstrike Hidden Realm lacks.”
“What’s it lacking?”
Dang Heeran’s voice rose. She glared at her sister with wide eyes. Though she’d lost, Dang Heeran took great pride in the Deathstrike Hidden Realm she’d created. While Dang Seona had caught the Poison Dance Lord’s eye and received her secret arts for ten years, Dang Heeran had devoted herself solely to the Tang Clan’s hidden weapons and devised what came next.
It was a monumental achievement. Even if incomplete, crafting the ‘next step’ after the Heavenly Slaughter Hidden Realm, refined over centuries, was proof of Dang Heeran’s master-level genius.
“Killing intent.”
Dang Seona beamed down at Dang Heeran.
“You didn’t create that art because you wanted to kill me. You just wanted acknowledgment, right?”
Dang Heeran could say nothing, her lips flapping soundlessly. She couldn’t deny it.
“That’s what’s missing. Acknowledgment... sure, I can give you that. Satisfied now?”
It was the coaxing tone one used with a child. Dang Heeran’s fists trembled. The acknowledgment she craved wasn’t this cheap.
“Face says you’re not. But what can you do? You tried hard, but you were weaker in the end. Think it over—what did you really want? My acknowledgment? Nah. You wanted to surpass me.”
Deep resentment filled Dang Heeran’s eyes. Dang Seona thrilled at the sight.
“If that’s what you want, hone your art with killing intent toward me. I don’t mind. I’m confident you’ll never grow strong enough to kill me, no matter what.”
Dang Seona turned away as she said it. Dang Heeran chewed her lower lip until her sister left the room. Only after a long while did she exhale raggedly and bow her head.
“...You heard, didn’t you?”
Dang Heeran looked up.
A man now stood in what had been her empty room. Leaning against the wall, he smirked at her.
Heavenly Slayer.
He was a middle-aged man of plain features. Dang Heeran didn’t flinch and met his gaze.
“Why not change your mind now? My brilliant sister would suit your martial arts far better than I would.”
“It wasn’t the Serpent Beauty that drew me, but the Poison Needle—you.”
Heavenly Slayer shook his head. Dang Heeran burst out laughing.
“I can’t imagine what you saw in me. I’m... weak.”
“Your sister’s just too strong.”
“...Not a word she said was wrong. I named it Deathstrike Hidden Realm, but I never truly wanted to kill her. I just... just wanted recognition.”
“You feared surpassing your sister.”
Heavenly Slayer smiled faintly. Dang Heeran had no reply.
“During the bout. You settled for just grazing her cheek. No regrets—just satisfaction from that alone.”
Startling her father. Touching her sister for the first time. Dang Heeran had been content with that and fainted smiling.
“Want me to guess why you feared it? You’re timid. Couldn’t harbor true killing intent toward your sister because you just couldn’t. Satisfied so easily, seeking only recognition—it’s all because you feared that if you truly surpassed her, she’d stop loving you.”
“...You know nothing about us sisters...!”
“You’re right—I don’t know much about you two. But you sisters wear it all so openly. Easy to see through. You know it too, right? Your sister’s warped affection wouldn’t vanish even if you harbored real killing intent. She’d love you even more.”
Heavenly Slayer guffawed.
“So you’re the one who needs to decide. Even if you don’t truly want to kill the Serpent Beauty, if you want to surpass her, I’ll help. Or train alone to do it yourself?”
“...”
Dang Heeran didn’t answer right away.
“Bottom line: impossible in a lifetime. Unlike you, the Serpent Beauty learned the Poison Dance Lord’s arts. Even if you devote your life perfecting the Deathstrike Hidden Realm, you’ll never land so much as a scratch on her again.”
“...If I learn your martial arts, can I surpass my sister?”
“Depends on you. But this I guarantee: my arts are no lesser than the Poison Dance Lord’s. In hidden weapons, I stand above the Tang Clan’s entire history.”
“...I don’t want to abandon the Deathstrike Hidden Realm.”
“No need. That art’s the main reason I want you as my disciple.”
Dang Heeran sighed deeply.
“If I become your disciple... does that make me unorthodox?”
“Not at all. Your origins don’t change. Though if you wished, you could go unorthodox.”
“...No intention of that.”
“Do as you please. I don’t care much for black-and-white divides. Overly generous terms, no?”
“...That’s what makes it suspicious. Why me of all people...”
“You undervalue yourself. Devising what comes after Myriad Blossoms in the Sky alone rewrites Tang Clan hidden weapon history.”
Dang Heeran’s face flushed. She hesitated, then bowed her head. Heavenly Slayer straightened from the wall, chuckling.
“We’ll do the disciple ceremony later.”
“...Pardon?”
“Need to speak with the Tang Clan first. Better for you too. Or... backing out now?”
“N-no, not that.”
Dang Heeran flurried. A once-in-a-lifetime chance. Orthodox warriors would swarm like clouds to switch paths for Heavenly Slayer’s discipleship.
Yet he offered the ceremony while letting her choose sides. Overly generous, as he said.
“Then rest up.”
Heavenly Slayer turned.
“Where to?”
“To see your father.”
He replied.
“Sooner the better.”
* * *
The Black Demon King had said come at night, but specified no time. It nagged at him, but the Black Demon King had summoned first.
Wi Sungcheon slipped quietly from his room.
The sun had set, yet Yicheon Academy blazed like daylight. Festival night markets had spilled onto the grounds.
Students finished with today’s bouts wandered in groups, enjoying the festivities. The defeated relaxed freely, while tomorrow’s combatants couldn’t fully unwind.
Not everyone, though.
“Junior, where you headed?”
He ran into Woo Hayeon en route. Stiffening at her call, Wi Sungcheon halted toward the VIP quarters housing the Black Demon King.
Leaving her entourage, she approached with a bright smile. No trace of tomorrow’s bout worries or tension.
“Got business.”
She blinked at his reply, scanning him head to toe while stroking her chin.
“Outfit says it’s not a girl.”
“What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“No way you’re actually meeting one? Nope, junior. She’d be let down. Hair’s all spiked!”
“My hair’s always like that.”
“That’s what bugs me. Press it down like—huh? Way better.”
Woo Hayeon shot her hand out, smooshing down Wi Sungcheon’s spikes. More petting than pressing, really.
Wi Sungcheon eyed her awkwardly, peeking past her shoulder. Flames shot from the eyes of her trailing male students.
Tae Heemyung among them. But his eyes welled gloomy instead of blazing.
“S-senior. People might get the wrong idea...”
“Wrong idea? What’s odd about a senior doting on her junior?”
“Why not dote on Tae Heemyung senior too?”
“Doting on Heemyung too. Just not as much as you, Wi Sungcheon junior.”
Woo Hayeon pouted.
“You and I share that romantic flair. Anyway, date calls for tidy clothes. And flowers... like so.”
She drew a flower from her sleeve, tucking it into his hair. Wi Sungcheon bemusedly touched it.
“Why carry flowers?”
“They’re pretty.”
Giggling, she clapped his shoulder. Wi Sungcheon fake-coughed and waved at gloom-eyed Tae Heemyung.
The festival-expanded VIP building: the Black Demon King and his Underworld Emissary guards occupied one entirely.
Nearing it, Wi Sungcheon couldn’t help glancing about. Cheonhwa Sect—already maligned as ex-unorthodox—was his. Its heir meeting the Black Demon King? No good looks would follow.
‘But no backing out now.’
Wi Sungcheon’s face soured. He hadn’t breathed a word to Father.
Curious for Father’s reaction, sure—but he wanted Black Demon King’s side first. Telling Father after wouldn’t be late.
“Got the shits or what.”
“Gah!”
Wi Sungcheon startled airborne. Just like the arena. Black Demon King loomed behind, smirking.
Clutching his pounding chest, Wi Sungcheon spat.
“Scaring me fun for you?”
“Didn’t mean to. You jumped yourself.”
Like with the Taiji Sword Lord. Ten Heroes approached sans presence. He’d endured it multiple times—no tolerance built.
“Why’re you here?”
“Your dithering annoyed me. Your thoughts are plain.”
Black Demon King spun about.
“Gah!”
Wi Sungcheon’s body lifted. Flailing midair, he gawked at the Black Demon King’s back.
“Outta the way.”
He walked slow. Wi Sungcheon belatedly scanned: Yicheon Guardians blocked ahead.
“This is trouble.”
“Trouble? Just wanna buy a young junior a drink.”
“Black Death Leader...!”
“Step. Aside. Patience ain’t my strong suit.”
Black Demon King’s eyes narrowed. The guardians wavered.
“Oppressing this seat?”
He glanced back. Not just guardians—Murlim Alliance’s Demon Purging Heavenly Legion experts too.
“Don’t stir shit. Told you: just treating junior to a drink.”
Black Demon King sneered.
“More honest than the Alliance Leader pouring for VIPs, eh? Tsk. Academy visit—share drinks with students, not politick up here. Tough gig for Leader, powerless so drown in booze.”
“...Watch your tongue.”
“Fine loyalty. Ten years back, I’d test it post-limb-ripping.”
Legion faces hardened at his scoff. Black Demon King roared laughing, shaking his head.
“Kidding—don’t panic. No grudge against Alliance. Wouldn’t attend Yicheon Festival otherwise. So... how long you blocking?”
“I...!”
Wi Sungcheon blurted.
“I’m fine! Really!”
Guards and legion swapped looks at his frantic shout. Black Demon King boomed laughing, striding on.
Hesitant guardians parted.
“Natural actor.”
“Wasn’t acting. Dead serious.”
Wi Sungcheon griped, face twisted.
“Yeah? Good work. Your plea cleared the path—your spot’s safe.”
Anyone’d see forced abduction. Wi Sungcheon incredulous:
“Appreciate the thought, but rough as hell. If they held firm?”
“Would’ve made ’em. No killing—just scare.”
“...Here to befriend the orthodox for real?”
“Hah! Here for kicks?”
Black Demon King cracked up.
“But claps need clashing palms. I’m earnest on friendship—Alliance Leader ain’t. Or scheming hard?”
He muttered, glancing back. Alliance Leader’s top-floor VIP glowed. Nine Great Righteous Sects heads, clan lords, elders—boozing rowdily, no doubt.
“...Gonna carry me forever?”
“Saves walking, comfy no?”
Black Demon King ascended. Wi Sungcheon flailed soaring high beside him. Black Demon King bellowed at the sight. Their peak aimed at his VIP quarters’ top hall.
“...No shit?”
Wi Sungcheon gulped at the central liquor spread. Black Demon King entered leisurely, finally lowering him. Wi Sungcheon landed clumsy, staring.
“Didn’t come to drink.”
“Right. Curious ’bout your dad, Cheonhwa Sect Leader.”
Black Demon King sat, filling a cup from the bottle. It floated brimful to Wi Sungcheon. He hacked a cough, catching it two-handed.
“Drink first.”
Wi Sungcheon glared a beat, then sipped. Potent fumes hit, burning down his throat.
“Cheonhwa Sect Leader is the Poison Drum.”
Liquor sprayed from Wi Sungcheon’s mouth.
“Gack! Hack! Kek!”