Chronicles of the Northern Heavens Chapter 218 - Seorung's Tears
The Mad Demon Sword was unlike any ordinary blade. Though called a sword, it had no fixed form, yet despite its formlessness, there was nothing in the world it could not cleave—the ultimate demonic weapon, that was the Mad Demon Sword.
That raised one inevitable question. Why hadn't Yeon-hoo drawn the Mad Demon Sword?
If it truly was a demonic blade that could cut through anything, he could have ended the fight far more easily. Moreover, most of the Iron Blood Family's martial arts were sword techniques, so wielding them with Moon Fang would inevitably diminish their power considerably.
Yet his refusal to draw it was puzzling, to say the least.
'Until I've fully made it my own, I can't draw it.'
That was the truth. As Hwangtae had pointed out, Yeon-hoo wasn't choosing not to draw the Mad Demon Sword—he couldn't.
Even so, Yeon-hoo was confident.
'And... this opponent isn't even worth needing the Mad Demon Sword for.'
Whoosh!
Yeon-hoo slowly advanced through the snowflakes that had turned into a blizzard. His long robe, torn and slashed in places, fluttered wildly against the fierce wind. He shrugged it off, and it was swept away by the gale toward Hwangtae.
Whoosh!
With a flick of Hwangtae's hand, the robe burst into flames and flew off the cliff's edge.
Hwangtae's eyes remained blood-red. But unlike during his relentless assaults, the crimson glow now flickered—fading one moment, intensifying the next. His shaking gaze mirrored the turmoil raging within.
'He didn't go all out...'
Doubt gave way to rising fury in Hwangtae's heart.
"You toyed with me, Yeon-hoo."
"Call it a difference in skill."
Hummm!
Hwangtae's sword resonated as it elongated dramatically, its entire blade soon engulfed in bloody light.
"Now I'll show you the end."
"We'll see about..."
Flash!
As Yeon-hoo moved, dozens of afterimages trailed in his wake.
"...who decides when it ends."
Moon Fang, slicing through the air, had shifted into the form of a sword. Not that it had transformed on its own—Yeon-hoo had used his internal energy to reshape it.
Hwangtae's eyes widened.
"The Mad Demon Sword…!"
Boom!
Krunch!
Hwangtae was pushed back. Yeon-hoo gave him no respite, unleashing a barrage. Caught off-guard like never before, Hwangtae could only scramble to defend, unable to find an opening for a counterattack as Yeon-hoo had.
With Moon Fang infused with aura and extended like a longsword, even the advantage of reach vanished.
Flash!
Blood sprayed from Hwangtae's chest. It was just a graze, but the searing pain felt like his flesh was burning away. A faint spasm twisted his face.
'The Mad Demon Sword... impressive as expected.'
Hwangtae mistook the reshaped Moon Fang for the Mad Demon Sword. He had no reason not to. The Blood Family preserved an illustration of the Mad Demon Sword manifesting in physical form, crafted in gold leaf and hanging in Jeokhon's chambers. Hwangtae remembered it vividly, so he couldn't help but assume the transformed Moon Fang was that legendary blade.
Flash!
Moon Fang struck again—this time two blades from different angles, aiming for his chest and shoulder. The trajectory and speed made evasion impossible.
But Hwangtae was no pushover.
Boom!
With exquisite footwork, he blocked both incoming strikes. However, diverting his energy to counter from two directions drained him excessively in that instant, shoving him back five zhang and throwing off his balance.
'Time to end this.'
Yeon-hoo wouldn't miss such a gap.
That was when it happened.
Yeon-hoo's eyes flashed briefly, and suddenly, crimson flames seemed to erupt from Hwangtae's entire body.
Fwoosh!
Seorung's eyes trembled.
Having watched from the start, the sudden shift left her utterly bewildered.
'Pretending to be pushed back just to read his moves...'
Seorung saw through it all. Unlike Hwangtae, she knew the aura-clad Moon Fang wasn't the Mad Demon Sword.
'Wrong. Yeon-hoo has read every one of that bastard's moves. If Hwangtae has no other demonic art on par with Blood Prison besides it, this fight's already over.'
But a doubt lingered. Then why had Yeon-hoo dragged it out?
'No way... he plans to capture him.'
The thought widened her eyes further. Capturing someone required overwhelming superiority, and against a master like Hwangtae, it was near impossible.
'That monster... he's even stronger than before!'
Boom!
Dancing flames painted her pupils like flowers. As they faded, Hwangtae staggered back. Watching Yeon-hoo charge at blinding speed, Seorung bit her lip.
'If I ambush now...'
Then—
Flash!
A massive light exploded from Hwangtae, followed by a deafening blast.
BOOM!
Shuuu!
Pop-pop-pop!
Debris flew toward Seorung's hiding spot. She raised her body protecting aura to block it, eyes fixed on the explosion. Dust clouded everything.
Rumble...
Seorung waited for the dust to settle. Moments later, a figure emerged—Yeon-hoo. No sign of Hwangtae.
Whoosh!
A fierce gust cleared the remaining dust, revealing Yeon-hoo clearly. His disheveled hair and smoke rising from his tattered robe hinted at severe damage.
Sizzle.
Seorung's right eye turned white. She activated the Barehand Demon Art.
'Now.'
As she rose, a cold voice pierced her ear.
"Come out and you die, Seorung."
"…!"
"Go back. And never show yourself before me again. This is the final atonement for your comrades who died by my hand."
Tremble...
Seorung's eyes shook.
'...He knew I was here from the start!'
Crunch!
Her lip turned pale under the pressure. Then she burst from the woods.
Through his tousled hair, Yeon-hoo's eyes were chillingly indifferent and serene. That gaze crushed her resolve and inner conflict.
Was that why? The translucent white in her eye reverted to normal.
Their gazes clashed across the void. Hers burned with resentment and hatred; his serene calm flickered ever so slightly.
You're a demon.
The words that had haunted her since leaving Blood Prison.
"I couldn't kill you with the Barehand Demon Art, could I?"
"Give it up, Seorung."
"I swore before the dead. That I'd avenge them with my own hands..."
"It was a fair fight. They went to their deaths smiling. I may be a demon to you, but to them, I was the savior who broke a thousand years of Blood Prison's chains. That's why they could smile even in death."
"Shut up!"
Her eyes deepened with grief, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Then why spare me?"
"I honored the last warden's request."
"…!"
"He wanted you free from fate's cruel wheel, living like ordinary folk. For his sake, abandon your revenge, Seorung."
With that, Yeon-hoo turned away.
"Stop!"
Seorung screamed.
"I said stop!"
But he didn't, vanishing from her sight soon after.
Drip.
Plop.
Tears fell onto the snow from her cheeks. Seorung collapsed atop them.
"I can't give up. With my own hands... with my own hands, I'll kill you, Yeon-hoo."
Yeon-hoo's eyes darkened as he watched Seorung sob in the underbrush. He lingered beyond the foliage for a time. Only after she departed did he step to the cliff's edge.
Whoosh!
A knife-like wind clawed his body, igniting burning pain in his chest.
'Close call.'
He glanced down. Blood seeped from the charred remnants of his robe, exposing torn flesh and visible bone.
'Condensing his energy into an explosion...'
In his final moment, Hwangtae had used a bizarre technique: converting internal energy to qi for a blast. Sensing defeat, he'd chosen mutual destruction. A split-second delay could have been fatal.
Yeon-hoo steadied his breath and peered over the edge. Then he leaped.
Roooar...!
The thundering waterfall. Spotting Hwangtae adrift in the white foam, Yeon-hoo dove in.
'Tough bastard.'
A faint pulse remained, barely there. Yeon-hoo dragged him out.
Hwangtae's state was horrific—unbearable to witness. Part of his skull caved in, chest and waist shredded like by iron claws. Even a peak master would have died a hundred times over.
'You can't die yet.'
He had to save Hwangtae—to uncover the Blood Family's ties to Blood Prison. Otherwise, Yeon-hoo would have struck first before the explosion, avoiding injury.
Sizzle!
Yeon-hoo staunched the bleeding, tore his robe to bind the wound, and sealed key meridians to stabilize him. That was all he could do. Survival until Dongbang Ri now lay in heaven's hands.
Throb.
Agonizing pain surged from the injury. With flesh ripped and bone exposed, it would be weirder if it didn't hurt.
Rip!
He shredded the last scraps of his robe to secure his chest, then hoisted Hwangtae onto his back. The snowflakes thickened.
Soon the whole mountain would be buried.
'This'll be rough.'
Whoosh!