Chapter 20: We Are the Demons
Chapter 20: We Are the Demons
The first moment you hold a new sword is everything.
A sword communes with its master, and for a peerless treasure like the Black Demonic Sword, that connection is deeper than any ordinary blade could ever hope to achieve.
While a sword rarely rejects a warrior outright, a poor connection prevents one from drawing out its full potential. The same applies if the warrior fails to understand the weapon's nature—such as when someone with Extreme Yang internal energy tries to wield a weapon of Extreme Yin, or when a practitioner of evil arts attempts to use a Buddhist relic.
Furthermore, the style of swordsmanship is paramount. Handling a rough-natured blade like the Black Demonic Sword with too much delicacy, or wielding the graceful White Flower Sword with brute force, will only stifle the weapon's true power.
In my life before the regression, I once saw a sword become so synchronized with its master that it sang on its own. It was a magnificent sight, and I had often wished for a weapon like that.
Can I achieve that level of synchronization with this blade?
After steadying my mind through meditation, I drew the Black Demonic Sword.
Even without injecting any True Qi, the surrounding air grew chilly from the blade's sheer sharpness.
—Nice to meet you. From now on, I am your master.
I slowly channeled my internal energy into the Black Demonic Sword. It was the first meeting between my power and the steel.
Then, the Sword Force began to frost over the metal.
A blue wave, resembling the sky, shimmered along the edge of the blade.
It really is different!
The color of the Sword Force was unlike anything I had produced before. Given it was the Black Demonic Sword, I expected it to be darker and more somber, but instead, it was a brilliant, radiant blue. Just as one is sometimes moved by the smallest details, I found myself deeply satisfied with this change in color.
I like you.
I hoped my feelings would be conveyed directly to the sword.
After retracting the Sword Force, I performed the forms of the Flying Heaven Sword Technique.
The Black Demonic Sword is not a gentle weapon. To match its nature, I had to execute the forms with the most powerful and fierce momentum possible.
Performing the Flying Heaven Sword Technique with the Black Demonic Sword felt entirely different from before.
After finishing a set of forms, I spoke to the sword in my mind.
—For the time being, we’ll survive using this technique. Later, I’ll teach you a truly incredible martial art. Let’s hang in there until then. Got it?
I put every effort into communing with the Black Demonic Sword.
Knowing that mere intent wasn't enough, I practiced and practiced until the sword felt like an extension of my hand.
I ate and practiced; I practiced the moment I opened my eyes. Sometimes I skipped meals to keep training. I even slept with it in my hand. I practiced in my dreams.
For a while, I devoted myself entirely to training.
Today, as I left the house to head to the training ground, I was startled by the sight before me.
Hundreds of demonic practitioners filled the large open space in front of my house.
They were the Blade Ghosts, the subordinates of the Blood Heaven Blade Demon. I couldn't tell if they had come on his orders or of their own volition, but their hostility toward me was unmistakable.
Their cold gazes, along with the Demonic Energy they emitted, poured over me like a tide.
I instinctively gritted my teeth. Even in my long life before the regression, I had never faced the combined pressure of so many people at once. Even a benevolent energy would have been overwhelming, but this was pure, unadulterated murderous intent.
If I held out any longer, I would suffer internal injuries.
Yet, when I refused to back down, their Demonic Energy intensified. It felt as if the energy was pelting my body like a torrential downpour. Just as the pain became almost unbearable, a certain secret art flashed through my mind.
Accepting the Demonic Energy exactly as it was, I began to recite a specific oral formula.
The Thousand Meridian Strengthening Technique.
It was one of the few secret arts I had learned in my previous life, designed to reinforce one's blood vessels.
The meridians, the pathways for True Qi, are the most vital parts of a martial artist's body, yet they are also the most difficult to strengthen.
The Thousand Meridian Strengthening Technique usually requires several martial artists to simultaneously emit their energy to "hammer" the subject's body, tempering the meridians. The more people involved, the better the effect.
The chance to receive such a massive amount of Demonic Energy all at once was rare, so I risked everything to activate the technique.
I had hoped to use it someday, but I never imagined that day would be today.
When I closed my eyes and feigned a look of agony, the bastards, thinking they were winning, poured out even stronger Demonic Energy.
More, more, more!
I grimaced, though I was secretly delighted.
They likely wanted me to retreat. They wanted me to hide inside the house to escape the pressure. They probably intended to keep this up for days, turning me into a coward who couldn't even step outside.
I took a step forward while maintaining the Thousand Meridian Strengthening Technique.
In response, the Demonic Energy surged even more violently.
The meridians throughout my body convulsed, and my True Qi swirled through me at a terrifying speed, following the formula of the strengthening technique.
The realm of my Thousand Meridian Strengthening Technique passed the second stage and moved into the third.
More, more, more!
With every step I took, their Demonic Energy lashed out. It was a battle of momentum, a battle of pride.
How many steps had I taken?
The technique had already passed the fourth stage and was heading toward the fifth and final stage.
Normally, such rapid progress was impossible. The most difficult part of the Thousand Meridian Strengthening Technique is aligning the hearts of the practitioners to create a single, unified energy.
Right now, the emotion carried by the Demonic Energy flying at me was singular: animosity.
The Demonic Energy that seemed like it would pour out forever finally began to subside. Even the Blade Ghosts had limits to their internal energy.
When the energy vanished completely, I opened my eyes. I had just completed the fifth and final stage of the Thousand Meridian Strengthening Technique. Thanks to that, my meridians were now incomparably stronger than before.
I looked at the Blade Ghosts. Their faces were filled with shock and exhaustion. They probably never expected me to endure their pressure until the very end.
Coming here like a pack of dogs to ambush me with their energy was a petty and cowardly move, but I decided to forgive them just for today.
I began to walk toward them with slow, deliberate steps.
Despite the hundreds gathered, the only sound was that of my footsteps.
The tension was so thick that if someone had shouted "Kill him!" the area would have turned into a bloodbath in an instant.
But I was the winner of this battle of wills. By enduring the Demonic Energy they had thrown at me, I had already broken their spirit.
Starting with the Blade Ghost at the front who stepped aside to make a path, the others followed suit like a row of falling dominoes. I walked through the path created by the crowd.
The expressions of the Blade Ghosts were varied. Some were surprised, some were weary, some were impressed, and others were furious.
But not a single person who met my eyes dared to make a provocative move.
I didn't say a word. I had won the battle of momentum, but I knew that if I unnecessarily wounded their pride, they might snap and go on a rampage.
And so, I walked out of there in silence.
As I took my final steps away, I felt the emotions of the Blade Ghosts shift. They were showing a sense of respect for my ability to withstand their energy and the sheer guts it took to walk through them.
Demonic practitioners are simple. They trample the weak and worship the strong. It’s less a cowardly trait and more a reflection of their fundamental nature.
Only when I had completely cleared the area did I finally let out a breath.
"Whew."
I hadn't exchanged a single word with them, but it felt as though I had just fought a massive war.
I headed straight to meet one person.
I walked across the red carpet until I stood before the empty Grand Tutor’s Chair.
I didn't dare climb the stairs and sit in it, but I wondered what it would feel like to look down from that seat.
Then, a heavy voice echoed from behind me.
"Do you wish to sit?"
The owner of the voice was my father.
I answered without turning around.
"No. I don't want to be trapped in that chair."
"You're spouting sophistry again."
I turned around with a smile and bowed respectfully to him.
Father walked past me toward the Grand Tutor’s Chair.
"Come up here."
Father called to me from beside the chair.
I slowly climbed the stairs and stood next to him.
"Sit."
It was a moment where I might have cracked a joke, but I sat down in silence. It was a seat I had wanted to try sitting in at least once.
"How is it?"
I looked down at the view from the Grand Tutor’s Chair. The first things that caught my eye were the pillars flanking the red carpet and the carvings of evil spirits on the walls. Though decorated with grand and ornate ornaments, the view of the hall from here felt strangely desolate.
"I thought I would be excited, but I feel nothing."
To my surprise, Father replied, "I felt the same."
I turned my head to look up at him. One might have expected a flicker of past regret in those blunt eyes, but Father looked as unchanging as ever.
"The Blade Ghosts swarmed my place earlier. I don't know if the Blood Heaven Blade Demon sent them or if they conspired among themselves, but..."
Father cut me off.
"They went on their own."
"So you knew."
As expected, Father knew everything. Both the Eight Demon Lords and I were under his constant surveillance.
"They showed blatant hostility toward me. I held my ground so as not to be crushed by their momentum. While I was enduring it, I felt fine, but once I left, I started to shake."
"Were you afraid of them?"
"No. I think I was afraid that my judgment might have been wrong. If someone had lost their temper and a fight had broken out, I might have died there. Even if I had survived, I couldn't exactly become the successor after massacring the Blade Ghosts. I suppose that's why I was afraid. Afraid of the fact that another moment might come where I have to make a choice with everything on the line..."
I told him exactly how I felt.
I wanted to share these thoughts with someone, and that person was my father, not Lee An. I wondered why. Emotionally, Lee An was the closer person.
"When those thoughts came to me, I wanted to see you, Father."
Father spoke indifferently.
"A demonic practitioner does not look back. They only look forward."
A life of looking only forward without ever looking back... I knew better than anyone what kind of life that was.
I won't look back, just as you say, Father. But that doesn't mean I'll only look forward, either.
We stared out at the view from the Grand Tutor’s Chair for a long time.
"The scenery from here is too desolate. Is it really necessary to have those statues of evil spirits standing there?"
"Because we must never forget that we are the demons."
The fact that those words felt so foreign to me made me think I wasn't destined to live as a demon.
"How about statues of beautiful women instead? Like the famous Four Flowers of the Central Plains. You could place one in each corner."
I glanced sideways to see Father looking down at me as if I were pathetic.
"Since I'm starting to talk nonsense, I suppose it's time for me to get up. Please, sit, Father."
I rose from the Grand Tutor’s Chair and slowly walked down the stairs.
When I turned around at the bottom, Father was still standing beside the chair.
Meeting the gaze looking down at me, I asked calmly.
"May I kill the Blood Heaven Blade Demon?"