Chapter 428: Why Fight This Hard?
Chapter 428: Why Fight This Hard?
Sparks erupted between the Drunken Demon’s hands and the Blood Threads, as if two blades of pure energy had clashed.
Sssssssst!
For the first time since the battle began, the Blood King was truly shaken.
He had never imagined anyone would dare grab his Blood Threads with their bare hands. But that wasn't all.
Riiiiiiip!
The Drunken Demon gripped the Blood Threads with both hands and wrenched them apart.
“Aaaaaagh!”
A guttural scream of agony escaped the Drunken Demon’s lips. Yet, he did not let go. At the very moment his cry reached its peak—
Snap!
The Blood Threads, which could slice through cold steel on contact, snapped in two.
As the threads broke, a sharp cry erupted from the Blood King’s mouth.
“Urgh!”
To maximize his power, the Blood King had linked his own True Qi to the Split-Body Blood Net. He had intended to execute the Drunken Demon with this single move. However, the severing of the threads sent a violent backlash through the very blood vessels he used to circulate his energy.
The Blood King gnashed his teeth, enduring the shock. Surely, he won't try to break another?
But the Drunken Demon was blind with intoxication. Forgetting the pain he had just endured, he lunged forward and snatched a second Blood Thread as if grabbing a common laundry line.
“Aaaaaaaah!”
His strength was as fierce as his scream.
Snap!
Once again, he ripped it apart.
“Gah!”
A louder cry burst from the Blood King. This time, the impact was even greater, twisting his internal meridians. Ultimately, the Blood King could no longer maintain the technique and was forced to abandon the form.
Shhh.
The Blood Threads that had crisscrossed the area vanished. In that instant, the Drunken Demon charged toward the Blood King with savage intensity.
It wasn't the refined Lightness Skill typical of high-level martial arts. Like an enraged bull, the Drunken Demon lunged forward, radiating a madness fueled by alcohol.
The Blood King was a man who wouldn't flinch before flying Sword Qi or Sword Force. Yet, in this moment, he felt a flicker of primal fear. He was afraid of the Drunken Demon, who had charged at him after snapping his Blood Threads with bare hands.
Not now!
The man had consumed the Wine of Blood Tears and torn through the threads. If the Blood King were caught by that madman in his current state, he might be torn limb from limb.
However, such explosive power couldn't possibly last forever.
There is only one way!
Just as the charging Drunken Demon was about to throw a punch—
Whoosh!
Something unfurled from the Blood King’s body like wings, enveloping the Drunken Demon as if to swallow him whole. It was the Blood Membrane Binding, a secret technique of the Ten Thousand Evil Blood Art.
The Drunken Demon struggled violently inside the membrane.
“Let me go! You bastard! You’re dead once I get out!”
The Drunken Demon cursed and shouted like a common drunkard throwing a fit. The thrashing inside the Blood Membrane seemed to quiet for a moment, then—
Riiiiiip!
The Drunken Demon shredded the membrane and poked his head out.
“You’re dead, you son of a bitch!”
The Blood King did not hesitate. He unleashed a blast of Palm Force directly at the opening.
Swish! Thwack!
Struck squarely by the Blood King’s palm, the Drunken Demon was sent flying, his head still poking out of the torn membrane. The Blood Membrane tumbled across the ground. It lay still for a moment, making it seem as though he might be dead, but then the Drunken Demon began to crawl out like a slug.
Leaping into the air, the Blood King unleashed successive bursts of Blood Energy.
Boom! Bang! Crash!
The earth was overturned, and clouds of dust billowed into the air. He poured out his Blood Energy with the intent of erasing everything in that spot from existence. When the onslaught finally ended, the dust began to settle.
From within the haze came the sound of ragged, heavy breathing.
As the dust cleared, the Drunken Demon was revealed standing amidst the craters. Having shed the Blood Membrane at some point, he had endured the deluge of Blood Energy.
Despite this, a smile played on the Blood King’s lips. His plan had succeeded. Earlier, the Liquor Qi surrounding the Drunken Demon’s body had been a dark, blackish hue when he snapped the threads, but now it had returned to purple.
The effect of the Wine God’s Total Intoxication—the final form of the Wine God Divine Art—had worn off. This final technique required a massive amount of internal energy; it was never used unless one was facing certain death.
Wheezing, the Drunken Demon spotted an unbroken wine bottle among the many rolling near his feet and walked toward it. Broken glass pierced his soles, drawing blood, but he didn't care.
This was exactly why the Blood King hesitated to rush in. The Drunken Demon was still heavily intoxicated and possessed by madness. He picked up the bottle and gulped down the liquor.
He had placed dozens of bottles in this courtyard to drink from the start. While fighting the North Blood Sect warriors, he had protected his wine even amidst a rain of Sword Qi, but now, most were empty or shattered. Only a few remained.
When the Blood King first heard that the Drunken Demon had come with the Young Cult Leader, he had secretly looked down on him. Among the Eight Demon Lords, he had considered the Drunken Demon the easiest to handle.
But in reality, the man's skills were second to none. Furthermore, their martial arts were fundamentally incompatible. Usually, the pungent stench of blood from his Blood Arts was enough to overwhelm an opponent, but the Drunken Demon’s smell of alcohol had completely swallowed the scent of blood.
Their temperaments were the same. The Drunken Demon simply didn't fit his pace. There was a primal fear that the Blood Arts should instill, but it didn't work on this alcohol-crazed lunatic.
“You... want a drink too?”
The Drunken Demon was so drunk his tongue was tied. He looked like he could collapse at any second, yet his eyes were piercingly clear.
The Blood King shook his head at the offer. A drink? At this moment, he felt like killing anyone he ever saw drinking alcohol again. Wine? He didn't even want to smell it.
Blood dripped from the Drunken Demon’s palms—wounds from tearing the Blood Threads and the membrane. Even in his stupor, he must have felt the pain. His feet, arms, and side were all soaked in blood.
“Why go this far? Why fight like this?”
Because if I don't win, the Young Cult Leader will have to fight you. Because I want to finish a persistent bastard like you with my own hands.
You never truly know a relationship until something like this happens. Only then do you realize how much you care for someone. How much did he care for Geom Mu-geuk?
If a Self-Destruction Art is going to go off, let it hit me!
That was his mindset. He was even wearing the Supreme Heavenly Silkworm Thread for that very reason.
“Is it because of the Young Cult Leader? What exactly has he done for you?”
The Drunken Demon began to walk forward slowly, reeking of alcohol and swaying on his feet.
“I know, right? He always comes looking for me at the very last minute.”
The Drunken Demon wasn't just swaying because he was drunk. He was exhausted to his core, and his internal energy was nearly depleted. Watching the Drunken Demon walk toward him, the Blood King felt a premonition for the first time in his life: he might actually lose.
That fear transformed into rage.
I’ll kill him. I’ll kill this drunkard with my own hands! I’ll beat him to death with my fists. Let’s see what kind of face your Young Cult Leader makes then.
Blood Energy saturated with killing intent erupted from the Blood King’s eyes.
It was a battle between blood and wine. Their fight resembled those pungent, primal smells. It was more emotional than logical. Curses came before words. It was a fight where the result—the absolute necessity of killing the other—preceded the reason why. Perhaps blood and wine were destined to have such a relationship.
Both men channeled their remaining internal energy into their fists. They weren't the Fist Demon, yet they fought with their fists just like him.
Thwack!
The Blood King’s fist slammed into the Drunken Demon’s chest. Despite the heavy impact, the Drunken Demon didn't retreat. Whether he was enduring the pain or was too drunk to feel it, he didn't dodge; he swung back.
The Drunken Demon’s first punch missed, but the second caught the Blood King square in the face. The Blood King’s jaw spun, and he staggered. Though the punch landed cleanly, he didn't fall.
He dodged the Drunken Demon’s follow-up and countered. Their fists tangled and crossed, and the Blood King struck the Drunken Demon’s shoulder. They landed hits and dodged well. It looked like a desperate brawl, but they were a Demon Lord and the Blood King. The exchange of blows continued with the fierce momentum of seeing who would break first, until—
Thud!
The Drunken Demon faltered. As the Blood King lunged to seize the opening—
Crack!
The Drunken Demon’s forehead slammed into the Blood King’s face. It was a completely unexpected attack. A headbutt? The Blood King was both bewildered and infuriated.
Squeltch.
Simultaneously, the sound of tearing flesh rang out.
Clutching his nose and backing away, the Blood King saw the Drunken Demon leap backward, putting distance between them.
Why? That headbutt had been the perfect chance to press the advantage.
Just then, the Blood King smelled a foreign scent of blood. He slowly looked down at his chest. The area over his heart was drenched in blood. He felt something hot traveling from his chest down to his stomach.
The Blood King’s eyes widened. When?
In the moment he was reeling from the headbutt, the Drunken Demon had stabbed him in the heart with a dagger, moving with the speed of a lightning strike.
The Drunken Demon had been aiming for that single move from the very beginning. He had been dead drunk, but it was a calculated intoxication. His bull-like charge hadn't been toward the Blood King, but toward this very result.
Only then did the Blood King see the dagger in the Drunken Demon’s hand. It had been driven so deep that the entire blade was stained red.
“I told you, didn't I? A drunkard’s fight is a filthy thing.”
The Blood King had felt fine a moment ago, but the sight of the dagger drained the strength from his legs, and he collapsed into a sitting position. He hurriedly pressed his pressure points to stop the bleeding, but the wound was in his heart. Surface-level treatment wouldn't save him.
I’m dying like this? To this drunkard?
But on this day, in this place, the wine was thicker than the blood.
The Drunken Demon stood at a distance. Even though his lethal strike had succeeded—or rather, because it had—he remained cautious. He didn't know when the Blood King might trigger a Self-Destruction Art.
He locked eyes with the Blood King from afar. As he stared into those eyes, he felt something instinctively.
“You... don't tell me?” The Drunken Demon asked with a look of genuine disbelief. “You didn't learn the Self-Destruction Art?”
Just as one comes to know an opponent better after a fight, he had a gut feeling. And he could see it in the Blood King’s expression. He truly hadn't learned it. The Blood King didn't want his end to be one where he was blown into a thousand pieces.
“Hey, that’s not right. Of all people, you should have ended with a grand, flashy explosion.”
Even though he had turned his subordinates into human bombs with that very art, he had spared himself.
“You asked me before we fought, didn't you? Why I didn't want the Young Cult Leader to fight people like you.” The Drunken Demon added with a cold gaze. “This is why. You and I... we’re both too...”
The Drunken Demon walked over slowly. The Blood King gritted his teeth and summoned his remaining internal energy. He hadn't learned the Self-Destruction Art, but he had one final move to kill the Drunken Demon: The Flying Butterfly Blood Poison.
Using it would permanently erase half of his Innate True Qi, so he had never dared to use it. But since he was dying anyway, he would take the bastard with him.
Just a little closer. Just a little more.
The Drunken Demon stopped and then took a step back.
“Why would I trust a guy like you?”
When drunk, the Drunken Demon was even better at smelling the scent of death. He picked up a broken stone lantern from the ground. It was the same one that had been split in half when he threw it earlier in the fight.
Guessing what he intended to do, the Blood King cried out hoarsely.
“No! Kill me like a martial artist!”
“No. This is perfect for you!”
Whoosh!
The stone lantern, imbued with the Drunken Demon’s last bit of internal energy, went flying.
Thump!
The stone lantern crushed his face and upper body. Blood pooled out from beneath the stone. Far more blood flowed from the Blood King’s corpse than from an ordinary person.
The Drunken Demon staggered over and sat down, leaning against the stone lantern, and took a drink. The life-and-death struggle was finally over.
The blood spreading across the ground soaked his backside. The Drunken Demon stared silently at the flowing crimson. His own face was reflected in the blood.
Whirrrr! Boom!
Two figures landed nearby. The one who slammed his opponent into the ground was Geom Mu-geuk. The man who died in the crater was the cook who had killed the innkeeper earlier. He had come here at the Blood King’s summons, but he died without even seeing his master’s face.
Geom Mu-geuk and the Drunken Demon’s eyes met. There was so much they wanted to say, but the words that came out of the Drunken Demon’s mouth were:
“You’re late again.”
At those words, a surge of emotion rose in Geom Mu-geuk’s chest. The Drunken Demon had no idea how much he had longed to hear those words again.
Geom Mu-geuk walked over and sat down beside him. Without a word, the Drunken Demon handed him the remaining wine. Geom Mu-geuk took a long drink and handed it back.
“I actually got here a while ago.”
Beyond the broken wall, corpses were scattered. Like the cook who had just died, they were the subordinates the Blood King had summoned.
“A lot of them showed up.”
They had been arriving continuously while the two were fighting, and Geom Mu-geuk had dealt with them as they came. The Drunken Demon realized then—if even a few of them had interfered in that tense battle, he would have been the one to die.
Geom Mu-geuk stared intently at the Drunken Demon and said, “You’re awesome, Brother.”
A smile the Drunken Demon couldn't hide spread across his face. Smelling the rising scent of the Blood King’s blood, the Drunken Demon finally gave the answer he hadn't given earlier.
Why did he fight this hard for the Young Cult Leader? Just to hear those words.
You’re awesome, Brother.
The Drunken Demon tried to lift the wine bottle but winced.
“Ah... now that the tension’s gone, everything hurts. I’m gonna lie down. I feel like I’ve been beaten to a pulp. Oh wait, I actually was beaten to a pulp, wasn't I? Aaaagh. I’m gonna die because I tried to look cool.”
With a bit of exaggerated complaining, he lay down. He didn't care that the ground was soaked in blood.
“If you were here, you should’ve come to save me first.”
Geom Mu-geuk knew those words weren't sincere. The Drunken Demon had truly wanted to kill the Blood King with his own hands.
Aside from the Blood King’s subordinates, there was another reason Geom Mu-geuk hadn't joined the fight immediately. He was worried that another of the Twelve Zodiac Kings might intervene. During the last fight with the Combat King, someone had rescued him at the end. There was a high possibility of that happening again.
So, he had stood guard outside, ensuring no one could intrude. While dealing with the Blood King’s men, he had watched for anyone else approaching.
Was that why? Or was there another reason? This time, no one appeared.
Yes, just as their side had changed beyond comparison, the enemy’s situation must have changed as well. Those who were supposed to be alive were dying, and they were failing to obtain the things they were meant to have.
Snore.
Hearing the snoring, Geom Mu-geuk turned to see that the Drunken Demon had fallen asleep. Having exhausted both his internal energy and mental strength, he was in a state of total collapse.
Geom Mu-geuk started to wake him from the blood-soaked ground but stopped. The sleeping Drunken Demon looked so peaceful. He didn't look like he was lying in a pool of blood.
He looked as comfortable as he did when he used to jump into the lake in front of the Drunken Dream Pavilion after drinking. He had the same expression he wore while floating on the water, staring at the stars in the night sky. It seemed as though, in this moment, the blood soaking his back felt like that lake.
Geom Mu-geuk quietly closed his eyes. Recalling the stars they had watched together while floating in the lake, he drank the rest of the wine.
“The wine tastes good.”