The Blood-Sucking Fiend of Frost Village

Following the death of Kang Man-do, the Blood Sword began to make its move in earnest.

Consequently, the Cheonhyang Merchant Guild could no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠longer afford to overlook the provocations of the White Wolf Clan.

In particular, when other successors besides Ha Tae-gun were targeted in a series of ambushes by the White Wolf Clan, the Lord of the Cheonhyang Merchant Guild finally took action.

True to his merchant roots, the Guild Master used the power of wealth to mobilize people.

Even the rogue mercenaries who had initially hesitated were quickly blinded by the staggering sum.

Once Pagun himself took the field, even the White Wolf Clan began to tread carefully.

In the meantime, Do Sang-woon made a momentous decision for the future of the Heavenly Sword Academy.

"It is time we stop resisting change. We do not need to force a radical transformation, but blind sacrifice like in the past will only end up hurting our own people."

"If that is your wish, Father, then we shall do so," Do Yoo-chan replied.

After careful deliberation, Do Sang-woon decided that while the Heavenly Sword Academy would maintain its core principles, it would also pursue practical interests—a departure from their past ways.

For he had learned how fleeting benevolence could be if one lacked the power to defend it.

Though there was no dramatic shift, only a change in mindset, the atmosphere within the academy began to subtly transform.

It was during this time of transition that an old man arrived at the gates of the Heavenly Sword Academy.

"Please, help us, Academy Master."

The visitor, who cut a pitiful and disheveled figure, was the chief of a small village located north of Baekmyo County.

Composed of slash-and-burn farmers, the settlement was known as Frost Village due to the thick fog and harsh weather that perpetually shrouded it.

Gong No, the chief of Frost Village, shared a long and deep history with Do Sang-woon.

"What has happened, Chief?" Do Sang-woon asked.

"Lately, our people have been vanishing."

This, in itself, was not entirely unusual.

In a transient farming village, people were free to come and go as they pleased.

"At first, we assumed they had simply moved on..."

The true horror began when their bodies were found.

"The state of the corpses is... unnatural. They weren't simply mauled by wild beasts or slain by bandits. Someone deliberately mutilated and desecrated them. It must be the work of a demonic practitioner!"

As Gong No spoke, barely suppressing his rage, Ho-sung's previous report flashed through the minds of Do Sang-woon and Do Yoo-chan.

Having personally investigated Kang Man-do's mountain fortress after hearing that report, they had already suspected that a highly dangerous martial artist was lurking in the shadows.

"I beg of you, help us," Gong No pleaded once more.

Looking at the desperate old man, Do Sang-woon and Do Yoo-chan found themselves in a difficult position, unable to give a hasty reply.

Of all times, it has to be now.

What should we do?

Just a day prior, Ha Tae-gun had sent them a letter.

To honor Ha Tae-gun's request, Do Yoo-chan and Ho-sung had already committed to setting out themselves.

Because of this, the academy was short-handed, lacking the manpower to send to Gong No's village.

Yet, they could not simply turn a blind eye to Gong No's plea, given their long-standing ties and shared history.

I must go myself.

Do Sang-woon resolved to take the field personally for the first time in a long while.

A dark, ominous premonition had taken root in his mind upon hearing the village chief's description.

I pray I am wrong, but in the worst-case scenario, that thing might have appeared in this region.

Indeed, the sudden demise of the Outlaw Sword, Kang Man-do, was highly suspicious from the start.

The possibility that the killer who took Kang Man-do's life was somehow connected to the horrors in Frost Village could not be ruled out.

Thus, Do Sang-woon planned to dispatch his urgent duties at dawn and set off for Frost Village with Gong No the following day.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Watching the weeping old man with deep pity, Do Sang-woon gently reached out his hand.

Tap.

Pressing a sleeping point to grant the exhausted old man some rest, Do Sang-woon signaled Ho-sung, who gently carried Gong No to the guest quarters.

Watching the scene unfold from the shadows, Do Yoo-sung decided to head to Frost Village ahead of his father once again.

He must be suffering terribly. I should ease his burden.

Like his father, Yoo-sung harbored fond childhood memories of playing in Frost Village.

In particular, there was a hidden cave on the mountain behind the village that only he knew about.

If I'm lucky, I might find some rather useful things hidden there.

The atmosphere is even gloomier than I expected.

When Yoo-sung arrived at Frost Village, a heavy, suffocating unease hung over the settlement.

In his memories, Frost Village had always been a lively place.

It was a sanctuary built by outcasts and refugees who had worked tirelessly to clear the land, build homes, and forget their painful pasts.

But the village, which had once echoed with the warm laughter of children and neighbors, was now as silent and grim as a house of mourning.

Have there been more deaths since the chief left?

It was highly probable.

As Yoo-sung quietly observed the village, a figure approached him—someone who had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠apparently been alerted by Gong No beforehand.

"It's been a long time. I heard you'd returned."

Yoo-sung turned toward the speaker and offered a warm smile.

"How have you been?"

The man was Gong Hak, the eldest son of Chief Gong No.

Being the same age as Yoo-sung, Gong Hak was the natural successor to lead Frost Village.

In their youth, they had run wild together, and Gong Hak had even trained briefly at the Heavenly Sword ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Academy.

"I was doing well enough... until this nightmare started."

Gong Hak forced a bitter smile, swallowing his rising anger.

He knew that in times like this, cold reason had to prevail over raw emotion.

Yoo-sung felt a quiet sense of respect for his old friend.

Impressive. He wouldn't look out of place among the academy's formal disciples.

Though he was still a step behind Ho-sung—who was currently the strongest in the academy after Do Sang-woon, Do Yoo-chan, and Binghwa—Gong Hak was still formidable.

Compared to the average martial artist, he was certainly not someone to be taken lightly.

Then again, if his father hadn't held him back, he would have fully committed to the path of the sword long ago.

Gong Hak, too, had once dreamed of wandering the Jianghu, just like Yoo-sung.

The only difference was that while Yoo-sung had run away to chase his destiny, Gong Hak had chosen to return to Frost Village out of filial duty.

"So, what brings you all the way out here?" Gong Hak asked.

Yoo-sung chuckled softly.

"I came to visit an old friend. I wanted to see how you were doing... but judging by your face, things aren't great."

"Far from it, unfortunately. We've been plagued by tragedy. I don't know how much my father told you, but... too many of our people have died. Just yesterday, we found another body. It was horribly mutilated."

Gong Hak's description immediately brought two possibilities to Yoo-sung's mind.

Such gruesome acts were characteristic of a particularly vicious breed of demonic practitioner.

It was either the side effect of a specific demonic art, or the work of a sadist with a twisted mind.

If it's the latter, it's simple enough to deal with. But if it's the former... that could be a problem.

Keeping his theories to himself, Yoo-sung sought to gauge the extent of the tragedy.

"How many have we lost? Looking at the village, it clearly isn't just one or two."

Gong Hak's eyes trembled violently at the question.

"It is hard to even put into words. In a mere fortnight, twenty children have vanished. Every single one of them was found dead."

There were adult victims as well, of course.

But their numbers were less than half of the children's.

"...Surely not?"

As Yoo-sung's brow furrowed, tears finally spilled from Gong Hak's eyes.

"Yes... my son was one of them. He was always a sickly child, but..."

Though he had been born with a fragile constitution, he was robbed of even the short life he had been allotted.

Chief Gong No, who had cherished his frail grandson even more than his own son, had reportedly lost half his mind to grief upon the boy's death.

I see. No wonder Chief Gong No was so utterly broken when he arrived.

The old man's terror was born of a crushing despair—the loss of his beloved grandson compounded by the slaughter of the village's youth.

"Can you tell me more about the state of the bodies?"

"I can."

As Gong Hak described the dry, bloodless skin and the puncture wounds, a specific, sinister martial art immediately came to Yoo-sung's mind.

There's no mistake. It's definitely that.

The Blood-Sucking Demonic Art.

A horrific technique that allowed a practitioner to rapidly build demonic energy by draining the blood of their victims.

It had originated as a desperate battlefield technique to quickly replenish demonic energy from the fallen.

But what began as a grim, temporary expedient had eventually mutated into a monstrous art driven by pure, insatiable greed.

Because it forcibly consumed the vitality and energy of others, the backlash was severe.

Nine out of ten who practice it lose their minds and degenerate into raving beasts.

Yoo-sung's familiarity with this forbidden art stemmed from his extensive battles against the remnants of Matian.

Even the leaders of Matian had been well aware of the volatile nature of the Blood-Sucking Demonic Art.

They had used it to mass-produce expendable shock troops—feral thralls known as Blood-Sucking Demons.

Driven mad by the art, these thralls would roam the land, hunting for blood until their bodies finally gave out.

On rare occasions, one might survive long enough to reach the Transcendental realm, but most exploded from the volatile energy before they could ever achieve such heights.

It was so inherently dangerous and offered such a limited path of growth that even orthodox demonic practitioners shunned it.

And now, one of those wretched creatures had appeared here.

I need to put it down before it becomes a real nuisance.

Had it been any other demonic art, he might have left it for his father to handle. But the Blood-Sucking Demonic Art was a race against time.

A single day of feeding could grant a Blood-Sucking Demon the equivalent of a month's worth of cultivation, if not more.

There was no telling how long the fiend had been practicing the art, but because they grew stronger and more volatile by the hour, he had to be eliminated immediately.

I'll hunt him down ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first, then figure out the rest.

Sensing a faint, repulsive trace of demonic energy in the distance, Yoo-sung's eyes flashed with cold intent.

"I'm going to look around the area for a bit."

"Be careful. If you spot anything suspicious, don't try to be a hero. Fall back immediately."

Yoo-sung offered a reassuring smirk and set off.

Gong Hak watched his friend's retreating figure for a moment before turning back toward the village with a heavy heart.

He prayed with every fiber of his being that this reign of terror would end soon.

"Forgive me, my son... for being such a powerless father," he whispered to the wind.

Swallowing the bitter pill of his own helplessness, Gong Hak forced himself to stand tall.

As the future chief, he had to remain strong to offer whatever little comfort he could to the surviving villagers.

Deep within the mountain behind Frost Village lay a small, hidden cave.

Its entrance was so narrow and choked with overgrowth that no casual passerby would ever suspect a cavern lay beyond.

"Hehehe..."

A raspy, sinister chuckle echoed from the depths of the damp cavern.

The man was the very fiend who had plunged Frost Village into a living nightmare.

"Keke... With this, I have already reached the Peak Realm!"

A manic grin split his face as his eyes glowed a bloodthirsty crimson.

"I, Hyeolgwido, have finally become a master of the Peak Realm!"

The fiend's true name was Hyeolgwido.

Once a low-ranking foot soldier of Matian, he had been nothing more than a mediocre, First-rate martial artist.

But after Matian's collapse, while fleeing alongside other desperate survivors, he had stumbled upon a forbidden manual.

The Blood-Sucking Demonic Art.

Staring at the crimson glyphs that practically pulsed with a sickening, chilling energy, Hyeolgwido had felt as though he held the heavens in his hands.

He was well aware of the horrific side effects of the art.

But he had abandoned any hope of a long, peaceful life a long time ago.

He was already a hunted dog, pursued by both the orthodox and unorthodox sects alike.

In a life where death could find him at any moment, why shouldn't he be the one doing the killing?

This is only the beginning. Once I drain every last soul in that village, I will move on to Baekmyo County.

The meager population of Frost Village was no longer enough to satisfy his burning thirst.

He would devour Baekmyo County, then Cheondo Gate, and eventually every martial artist along the borders of Sichuan.

When that day came, those who had hunted him like an animal would become his prey.

"Perhaps... I will achieve something far greater than mere vengeance."

As his petty, desperate ambitions gave way to delusions of grandeur, Hyeolgwido's bloodshot eyes glazed over with ecstasy.

"So, this is where you've been hiding."