Chapter 38
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: One Flash Death
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'Good.'
It really was a stroke of luck.
The fact that not a single poison user was mixed in among them.
If there had been a bunch of poison wielders in that group, protecting all his junior brothers at his current level would have been incredibly difficult.
'They must have done it to avoid leaving any traces behind, in their own way...'
But that had backfired, turning into a significant advantage for him.
Trash like them— a few peak experts at best, mostly just first-rate— he was confident he could slaughter every last one if he got serious and unleashed his killing blade.
That aside, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of irritation at his own carelessness.
'Sending only weaklings like that means they already knew the sect's higher-ups had left.'
In other words, while he was away, they'd snuck into the main sect multiple times to confirm things.
No matter how vigilant he was, he couldn't focus on defenses while checking on his scattered junior brothers near Cheonlang Peak or elsewhere.
It was impossible to keep the entire vast mountainside in his sensory range at all times anyway.
"Tch!"
His own negligence— leaving the sect gate unguarded, thinking just closing it would suffice— had led to this mess.
'I've grown dull.'
He'd never dreamed thieving scum like them would dare invade his turf.
He kept forgetting he was just a lowly third-generation disciple now.
"What can you do? Spilled water can't be poured back. Might as well turn it into a blessing in disguise, even if it's late."
Thud. Thud.
Gwang-il advanced with slow steps, his presence sinking into a stillness like a mirror-flat surface without a ripple.
The terrifying killing intent he'd exuded moments ago had vanished completely, leaving not even a hint of aura.
To those unaware this was the Dark Heaven Emperor's ritual before wielding his sword in earnest, the man standing plainly before them seemed like a ghost.
"...So you're that brat Gwang-il."
His calm, emotionless demeanor was utterly infuriating to the Shadow Squad Captain, leader of the intruders who'd scaled Point Cang Sect's walls tonight.
'That idiot Venom Dragon Captain...!'
Causing this disaster over a mere fledgling!
He looked decently skilled for his age.
But that was it.
Even if he'd been born with heavenly talent and his martial arts had progressed by leaps and bounds, he couldn't make up for the hard-earned real combat experience that only time could forge.
And the elites under the captain's command were worlds apart from that arrogant Venom Dragon Squad's rabble.
Thud!
"Target eliminated."
"Good work."
Even their squad leader's curt exchange as he landed behind said it all.
The fool Venom Dragon Captain's stubborn lifeline had just been severed.
"You killed the Venom Dragon Captain, huh."
"..."
He showed no reaction to the "brat" insult— hard for any proud young expert to shrug off.
Now he was piecing together the unfolding situation with ease.
That incomprehensible calm and leisure grated on the Shadow Squad Captain, who'd achieved his primary goal and planned to withdraw.
"What? Planning to run now that you've hit your mark? Like frightened rats?"
"...Shut your mouth if you don't want to die."
With only third-generation disciples left in Point Cang's grounds— a golden opportunity from the heavens.
Separate from eliminating the Venom Dragon Captain, the thorn in their side, Shadow Squad's orders were clear: no harming Point Cang disciples.
A single slip could expose them, forcing a brutal war with Point Cang's vanished masters— whose whereabouts no one knew.
And that would clash head-on with their clan's ambition to dominate the western Central Plains amid the coming turmoil.
"Retrea—"
[How fitting for Sichuan's petty rats— masters at tucking tail and fleeing.]
"?!"
As he forced down his disgust and prepared to retreat.
A sneering voice pierced his ear, freezing the Shadow Squad Captain in place.
"Y-You...?"
"What? Thought I wouldn't know? With your foul stench reeking everywhere?"
He tsked like an old man for a moment.
Then Gwang-il's steady gaze swept over the black-masked figures once more.
"Did you think you'd defile Point Cang's sacred grounds and escape unscathed?"
It'd be a lie to say he wasn't worried about his juniors behind him.
But letting these worthless scum slink away was even more unacceptable.
No poison users meant he could go all out and sweep them aside easily.
Above all, allowing another raid in this life infuriated him to no end.
"Dream on. Not a single one of you will leave this mountain alive."
"...This clueless brat who can't tell heaven from earth!"
The vice captain beside the Shadow Squad Captain lost his temper first.
Even wearing this stifling mask and playing night intruder out of necessity.
They were proud elites of Sichuan Tang Clan!
Yet this third-gen disciple from a minor orthodox sect was flapping his mouth?
"A hole in your body might knock some sense into you."
Ignoring orders to quietly eliminate only the Venom Dragon Captain and withdraw, he flung his left hand out fiercely.
Acting without orders, sure.
But as long as he didn't kill, it was fine, right?
Point Cang's brats wouldn't know their identity, and the dart he threw was a common strongho weapon— no trace to follow.
Humiliate the arrogant pup and retreat. Simple.
This stemmed from dismissing rumors of Gwang-il subduing the Venom Dragon Captain as nonsense.
"What?!"
To the Shadow Squad Captain, stunned by the unexpected transmission, this was a shocking revelation.
Did only Gwang-il know their identity, or everyone behind him?
Slaughter all third-gens to silence them?
Too risky a gamble.
But the dart was already slicing through the night air toward its target.
'Damn it!'
Too late now— better subdue the third-gens and figure things out, he decided.
No other Point Cang folks around anyway.
Spare their lives, protect their identity. Done.
But reality mocked his delusion.
Clang!
"?!"
Gwang-il casually swatted the incoming dart with his hand blade, flashing a white grin.
"Not content with trespassing— now assassins' tools too."
[Now Sichuan Tang Clan has no excuses left.]
Gwang-il deliberately avoided naming Sichuan Tang Clan aloud.
Sowing confusion in the leader while methodically advancing his own goals.
"A hole in your body for sense?"
"Wh-When?!"
Stab!
"G-Guhhh...!"
"Vice Captain!"
Thud.
Like a ghost, Gwang-il appeared at the vice captain's right, his straight thrust tearing the man's throat.
His gaze turned to the Shadow Squad Captain, who involuntarily cried out.
"Cap... tain?"
[No poison aura, like the Venom Dragon Squad but cleaner. So you're the hidden weapon Shadow Squad.]
"!!!"
Gwang-il's eyes gleamed sharply, then curved into gentle crescents.
The Shadow Squad Captain, reeling from the chain of shocks, couldn't gather his wits.
They'd come focused on the Venom Dragon Captain, not battle.
"What the hell are y—!"
"Watch closely, Gwang-jo!"
Gwang-il bellowed like thunder, staring at the retreating captain fumbling in his robes.
"This is the new Point Cang sword you must master from now on!"
"What—?!"
Boom!
Crack! Crack!
Realizing the "rumor" was true, he braced for full combat— too late.
A gray flash of a swift sword split the Shadow Squad Captain's head like a ripe watermelon.
An ignoble end for a famed Sichuan super-elite.
Hidden weapon masters thrived at range; yielding close quarters to a swift sword was fatal.
Facing a lightning sword strike unprepared was suicide for them.
Stagger...
Thud!
The headless corpse wobbled then collapsed into a blood pool— inevitable.
"C-Captain...!"
"Captaaain!"
Unimaginable carnage left the Shadow Squad in chaos, bellowing wildly despite their masks.
Losing both captain and vice in an instant— unavoidable panic.
But the perpetrator calmly continued his midnight lecture.
"Unlike the Sun-Piercing Sword's eight forms, One Flash Death consists of a single strike."
"You bastard!"
"You!"
Stab!
Spurt! Spuuurt!
Thud! Thud!
Two nearby foes, blinded by rage, charged— throats pierced like the vice captain, sprawling backward.
Onlookers couldn't even track it— blinding speed.
A fraction of the power used on the captain, yet the result was the same.
"As vital as killing with one stroke is using exactly the needed force."
Stab!
Stab! Stab! Stab!
"Gah!"
"Guhhh!"
"That requires discerning the foe's capacity accurately."
Gwang-il spoke calmly, the full moon emerging from clouds to bathe the scene in pale yellow light.
Beneath it, ominous gray currents churned around him in contrast.
"Gah!"
"Kuhk!"
Thud! Thud!
Masked men clutched throats and fell, their crimson blood mingling into a bizarre, eerie spectacle.
In mere breaths, all intruders were cleanly dispatched.
Releasing his tension with a light exhale, Gwang-il gazed steadily at his juniors with impassive eyes, concluding his first lesson.
"Unlike the supreme swordsmanship born to pierce the mighty sun, One Flash Death seeks only the target's death— nothing more."
The surroundings reeked of blood, soaked red.
A suffocating silence descended heavily.
And then.
From the sea of blood, Gwang-il's lazy chuckle jolted his frozen juniors from shock and terror.
"How about it? You won't pierce the heavenly sun with this. But against the myriad trash infesting the strongho? More than enough, I'd say."
"...!"
Among the pale-faced juniors.
Gwang-il flashed a rare, bright smile at Gwang-jo gripping his sword so hard veins bulged in the front row.
"For living as strongho folk, isn't that plenty?"