Chapter 412: The Last Bandit (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 412: The Last Bandit (3)
Smoke continued to coil through the dark forest, saturating the air with the acrid stench of burning.
“Hah… Ahhh…! Aghhhh!”
The unknown man’s screams tore through the night. He was being burned alive, slowly and deliberately.
“Please… Pleeeaaase!”
He begged for mercy, his pleas directed at the figure holding him effortlessly by the throat. His captor’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes… his pupils burned a fierce, bright red, like embers stoked by a raging inferno.
As moonlight filtered through the canopy, it illuminated the ground beneath them. The dirt was stained an unnaturally dark hue, soaked through with blood.
“…Urgh… Ufh… gh.”
The man wrapped in flames grew quiet, his screams dying down to choked gurgles until they ceased entirely. Life had left him.
Thud.
The young man released his grip, letting the lifeless body fall to the ground. The flames that had consumed it vanished in an instant.
“Huff…”
Another man, who had been watching the entire scene, clamped a hand over his mouth. His leader—a martial artist who had reached the Peak Realm, a man whose strength was acknowledged by the boss himself—had just been killed without a shred of effort. And by a young man who couldn't be older than twenty…
What is this… what the hell just happened?
The observer’s mind reeled, unable to process the carnage. The same fate had befallen the rest of his group. The first one caught had been reduced to a pile of ash. The others had their necks snapped like twigs. Even their Peak Realm leader had been effortlessly dispatched.
Monster… that thing is a monster.
Trembling uncontrollably, the man shuffled backward, only to have his retreat halted by a tree trunk.
“Huff… huff…”
His mind was consumed by a primal fear of death.
Is this it? Am I going to die here?
Tears of pure terror streamed down his face. Escape was impossible; his legs had already been shattered by that monster’s hands.
Creak.
The crouching figure began to move.
Blaze-!
The same terrifying flames flickered to life around the monster’s body. Seeing them, the man could only think one thing:
It’s ruthless.
This was not the familiar heat of ordinary Flame Arts. This fire emitted no warmth, no comfort. It felt… empty. And that emptiness was more frightening than any heat.
Why did these flames feel so hollow?
No, wait. There was one thing they radiated.
…Killing intent.
The flames were a physical manifestation of pure, unadulterated killing intent. Was that why the young man himself felt so devoid of emotion? Had he poured every ounce of his will into this fire? Just how much killing intent would that require?
Flame…? Wait, now that I think about it…
A realization dawned on him. There was one person, currently the most famous practitioner of Flame Arts. A young hero hailed as the future of their generation. It was said he single-handedly thwarted an ambush at the Heavenly Dragon Academy and showed no mercy to the Unorthodox Faction. After that, he was given a new title… a title associated with flames.
That title was—
“The Lesser King of—“
Crack-!
“…!”
A searing pain shot through his hand, cutting off his words. The young man was suddenly right in front of him, a hand clamped over his mouth. The man hadn't even seen him move. All five fingers of his hand were bent at grotesque, unnatural angles.
“Ufgh… Ufh…!”
“That damned title,” the young man said, his voice deceptively calm. “If you utter it again, even by accident, I will tear your arm off. I’ll also tear it off if you scream. I will release you in three seconds. You will remain silent. Understood?”
The man nodded frantically. He had no other choice.
The young man slowly removed his hand. Despite the agony screaming through his body, the man bit down on his lip, refusing to make a sound.
Those flaming red eyes looked down at him. Then, the young man knelt, bringing his face level with the terrified man.
“What’s your goal here?” he asked, his tone identical to the one he’d used while torturing the others.
“…Y…You… already heard the answer earlier,” the man stammered, his voice shaking with fear.
“Is that really all?”
“Y-Yes…”
The young man had indeed extracted the information from the first captive. Their group’s orders were simple: trail the Tang Clan’s crew and observe their route.
Even with the answer in hand, the young ma- …No.
The Lesser King of Hell…
The man gritted his teeth, finally confirming the identity of his tormentor. Rumors said he had become more ruthless than ever after dealing with the Unorthodox Faction. It seemed the rumors were true.
I didn’t believe it because he’s just a young bastard…!
But the evidence was undeniable. The cruelty was staggering, far beyond what one would expect from the Orthodox Faction. The torture methods were so horrifying he’d nearly lost control of his bladder. This young man seemed unnaturally accustomed to inflicting pain with his flames. Was this really the future of their faction?
As the man stared with terrified, shaking pupils, the Lesser King of Hell continued, his face an emotionless mask.
“Seven total. One Second-rate, five First-rates, and the last being Peak Realm.”
“…!”
The man gasped. The assessment was perfect. Their leader was Peak Realm, the others First-rate. He himself was Second-rate.
“You are all relatively talented for bandits. Just who are you guys?”
“…Huff… Huff…”
“What is your goal? Hmm?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that—“
Sizzle-!
“Urghh…!”
The young man grabbed one of the man’s broken fingers and set it ablaze. Excruciating pain lanced up his arm, and his body convulsed violently.
After a moment of letting the flames sear the flesh, the young man asked again. “I’ll ask again.”
“I…I don’t… know. Please… Please…”
“Fine. I’ll ask a different question. Is Tang Duk the name of your boss?”
“Huff…!?”
The man jolted in shock upon hearing his boss’s name.
How…? How does the Lesser King of Hell know the boss’s real name? In the Central Plains, the boss was known only by his title. His true name was a secret.
Seeing his reaction, the Lesser King of Hell smiled. It was a terrifying sight, a smile devoid of any warmth or humanity.
“So I wasn’t wrong. It’s that bastard’s tail.”
“…How…”
“Why though? Why does he bother with such an unnecessary thing when he should just stay hidden?”
“…Do you and my boss perhaps know each other?”
“Do we know each other?” The Lesser King of Hell’s smile widened. “I guess you could say that. We are so close that I’m willing to pop his eyeballs.”
“…”
Any hope of leveraging a connection for mercy evaporated instantly. Their relationship was clearly hostile. The man’s mind raced, trying to find a way out while enduring the pain. The questions piled up. They knew the Lesser King of Hell from the Gu Clan was traveling with the Tang Clan. But even with his famed talent, how could he pose a threat comparable to the Poison King or the Lord of the Pe Clan?
Just how…
He thought of the treasure their leader carried—a marble that erased the presence of the holder and those nearby. They were told even the Poison King wouldn't detect them unless he got dangerously close.
…But how did this bastard find us? Did the Lesser King of Hell possess a perception ability that surpassed the Poison King’s? That seemed impossible, even for a generational genius. Perhaps he had another method?
“I can hear your brain working from all the way here.”
“…!”
Crack-!
“Urgh!?”
Another finger was twisted. Since it was already broken, the pain was magnified tenfold.
“W-Why?”
“Ah, sorry, it’s a habit.” The young man’s tone was almost conversational. “I have a habit of breaking body parts when I speak. It’s not exactly easy to fix.”
The casual admission, delivered with a smile, was chilling. A torturing habit?
Is this bastard… really from the Orthodox Faction? The man’s confusion only deepened.
“These bandit bastards are abnormally strong. Has it always been like this?”
“…”
“Oh, I’m not asking you, so you don’t need to answer that.”
The Lesser King of Hell continued to speak, his voice still carrying the faint, unbroken tone of youth, softer now than during his initial violent appearance. But the man knew better. That voice was laced with killing intent.
“To be honest, I wasn’t really curious about your objectives. It was obvious from the beginning.”
The meaning was clear: he had always intended to kill them all. So why the torture? Why demand answers?
“I just had to pick one of you. One who gets scared easily, one who can work their brain, and one who will listen to me.”
“…”
“Do you want to live?”
The man fell silent. Do I want to live? Of course I do. But coming from the Lesser King of Hell, the question filled him with dread.
“I won’t ask you again. Answer.”
“I…I want… I want to live.” The image of his leader burning alive forced the words out.
The Lesser King of Hell nodded. “Oh, this is a personal question, by the way. How many people did you let go when they pleaded for their lives?”
“…!”
“I’m glad you gave me the silent answer. That much is enough. At least I won’t feel bad.”
The man was certain his past sins had sealed his fate, but the young man did nothing. Huh? Is he really going to let me go? A wave of relief washed over him, but it was short-lived.
Is this really… me being alive? His legs were destroyed, one hand completely broken. No physician could ever mend his legs. A normal life was impossible. Relief curdled into despair.
Then, the Lesser King of Hell grabbed his neck.
Huh? Didn’t he say I can liv—
“I’ll say it now. Endure it. I don’t know how to be kind and soft like the Heavenly Demon.”
“Heavenly Demon? What do you mean? Y-You clearly said I could live…!”
“I will let you live. Of course I will. How will you work otherwise?”
Suddenly, the man saw it. The fiery red of the young man’s eyes began to shift, melting into a deep, mesmerizing violet. The color was so beautiful, so hypnotic, that the man found himself staring, captivated despite his terror.
As he gazed into those violet eyes, the Lesser King of Hell spoke.
“What’s your name.”
“I…I am Jul Bok.”
“Jul Bok, alright. You only have one job. Return to your boss and inform him of everything that happened.”
Just as confusion clouded Jul Bok’s mind—
Flinch.
“…!”
He felt something small and sharp pierce his dantian, burrowing deep inside.
Swoosh-!
“Ugh!!?”
The foreign object rapidly expanded within him, taking root in his dantian before suddenly shooting upward and embedding itself in his heart.
“Urghhh… Aghhhh!”
An agony beyond any he had ever known wracked his body.
Was he lying? Does he plan to torture me to death after all? That was the only explanation Jul Bok could conceive.
I… I don’t want to die…
His desire to live burned brighter than ever. That desperate, all-consuming will to survive—that was exactly what Gu Yangcheon sensed.
It was the fundamental requirement for becoming a Demonic Human. One needed a desperate desire, be it for life or revenge. Without it, they would never survive the process. Of course, the Heavenly Demon from Gu Yangcheon’s past life had employed a more refined, painless method. But Gu Yangcheon had neither the intention nor the ability to replicate it.
This was only his second attempt, after Namgung Cheonjun. In just two tries, he had realized the unbelievable level of control the Heavenly Demon must have possessed. Gu Yangcheon saw no reason to extend such courtesy.
It isn’t needed for bastards like these.
He felt no pity for those who stood in his way. The Green King, whom these bandits served, had been one of the cruelest Demonic Humans in his past life. His minions were no better, toying with the lives of civilians and committing countless atrocities. Jul Bok’s earlier reactions had confirmed he was cut from the same cloth.
Not that Gu Yangcheon was in any position to judge. He, too, had been a Demonic Human in his past life, his hands stained with countless lives. This was simply him venting his anger. He offered no excuses for his own past sins.
After some time, a change began to occur in Jul Bok. It was subtle, but Gu Yangcheon saw it immediately. Demonic Qi had successfully taken hold in the man’s dantian and heart. Jul Bok had become a Demonic Human.
Gu Yangcheon frowned. He barely managed to hold on because he’s only Second-rate. Anyone of a lower cultivation would have exploded, unable to contain the Demonic Qi. He had chosen Jul Bok precisely because he sensed both a fierce will to live and a cultivation level that was just barely sufficient. A First-rate or Peak Realm martial artist would have been too difficult for him to control fully; at best, he could have placed a simple Shackle to prevent betrayal. Taming someone at the Fusion Realm was currently impossible.
Jul Bok was the perfect candidate.
Feeling the bizarre changes in his body, Jul Bok looked up at Gu Yangcheon in shock. As a new Demonic Human, his body was transforming. His shattered legs twitched, the bones held together precariously by the Demonic Qi now coursing through him.
Gu Yangcheon stood up, his face calm but his mind surprised. That was possible too? He knew the Heavenly Demon’s Qi could achieve such things, but he hadn't realized his own Demonic Qi possessed similar properties. Was it possible because Jul Bok’s level was low? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I guess I need to research this more later.
But for now, this was sufficient. His goal wasn't to play physician.
He looked down at the transformed man. “You have one job.”
Jul Bok looked up, his eyes shaking, filled with a mixture of terror and something resembling awe. Gu Yangcheon didn’t understand it. Why did those turned into Demonic Humans always look at their creator that way? He himself had never regarded the Heavenly Demon with such eyes. Not that he cared to find out why.
He scanned the surroundings, ensuring they were still alone.
“Deliver this message to Tang Duk.”
This was the true objective.
Jul Bok listened intently.
Then, Gu Yangcheon delivered the message verbatim.
“…Stop this nonsense and show yourself… you failure?”
* * *
Crack-!
Tang Duk’s fist clenched, and the stone chair beneath him shattered to dust. An intense, oppressive Qi erupted from his body, causing the very ground to tremble.
The giant man with dark green hair—the ruler of the bandits in the Ghostly Mountain, the boss himself, Tang Duk—glared at the minion cowering before him.
“That young bastard told you to deliver this message?” His voice was a low growl.
“…Y-Yes… Boss.”
Tang Duk’s eyes bore into the man—Jul Bok, he recalled. An underling of Godong, who had reached the Peak Realm last year. His frown deepened. He had sent Godong’s team to shadow the Tang Clan.
Yet only this bastard returned alive?
Hah—
And they had even lost the precious concealment treasure. The sheer absurdity of it all made Tang Duk let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh.
Crack.
His brief smile vanished. He stood up, hefting a spear that was larger than he was.
“…Not only does he know my name, but he even taunts me.” The Lesser King of Hell. An interesting bastard, indeed.
Tang Duk smiled down at Jul Bok, a sight that made the other bandits present shiver in fear.
“Jul Bok.”
“Yes… Boss.”
“Everything is good and all,” Tang Duk began, his voice deceptively calm. There was still one mystery. “How come you were able to escape?”
“…Boss…?” Jul Bok’s pupils began to shake violently.
“If your brothers couldn’t accomplish the mission and died, you should’ve died along with them. You son of a bitch.”
“Boss…! Wait…!”
“Yet you return so shamelessly? How daring of you.” Tang Duk’s voice dropped to a predatory growl as he lunged forward, grabbing Jul Bok by the neck and lifting him into the air. Jul Bok was not a small man, but in Tang Duk’s giant grasp, he looked like a child.
“You worthless bastard… I have no use for a useless bastard.”
“S-Spare me, Boss! Please… Please!” Jul Bok begged mindlessly, but Tang Duk’s grip only tightened.
“Go say hi to your brothers in the afterlife.”
Crack-!
A brutal crunch echoed through the chamber. Jul Bok’s neck was snapped, his body going limp.
It was then.
Woong-!
“…Hmm?”
A strange vibration began to emanate from the corpse Tang Duk still held. Jul Bok’s eyes were lifeless; he was unquestionably dead. What was happening?
“What in the…”
Pow-!
An explosive sound erupted from Jul Bok’s body. A torrent of blood gushed from his mouth, drenching Tang Duk from head to toe.
“…”
Bandits rushed forward with cloths, but Tang Duk simply wiped his face with a massive hand. As he did, a thought crystallized. He didn’t understand the mechanism, but he understood the intent. This was a final taunt from the bastard who had sent Jul Bok back.
Chuckle…
Tang Duk began to laugh, wiping the blood across his face.
Hahahaha-!
His laughter boomed, a wide, terrifying grin splitting his features. “The Lesser King of Hell, was it?”
That young bastard dared to give me an order.
Tang Duk began to move, making no further attempt to clean himself.
I would’ve been more cautious normally. But I guess I have no other choice if I’m taunted like this.
“Grab your weapons,” he whispered, the smile never leaving his face.
The command was met with an immediate surge of Combat Qi from his followers. The densest, most palpable Qi of all, thick with killing intent, radiated from Tang Duk himself.
* * *
I turned my head slightly, sensing a distant change in the middle of a meal.
“Ah.”
“Is something the matter?” Wi Seol-Ah asked, tilting her head as she placed food on my spoon.
I gave a light shake of my head and took another bite. “It’s nothing.”
Namgung Bi-ah and Moyong Hi-ah also gave me curious looks, but I had no intention of explaining. Instead, I clicked my tongue internally.
Tsk, tsk. I promised him he could live.
My reaction had only one cause: I had just felt the death of the man named Jul Bok. The Shackle I placed on him had activated. It wasn't just meant to ensure he delivered my message; I designed it to trigger if Tang Duk killed him, causing his heart to explode and blood to gush forth.
It seemed Tang Duk had taken the bait. I hadn't killed Jul Bok myself, but his death confirmed Tang Duk’s temperament—he was quick to dispose of his own men.
He must be very angry.
Given his fiery nature, my message would have enraged him perfectly.
I prepared everything already.
Whether Tang Duk came himself or not, my plan was now in motion. All that was left was to wait.
“Do you want to… drink some water?” Namgung Bi-ah offered.
“Sure.”
I accepted the water she poured and glanced around. We were still in the forest, but one thing had changed.
We’re in Sichuan’s territory now.
Our journey to Sichuan had begun as spring turned to summer, and now, we had finally crossed into the region itself.