Chapter 35
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Fire - 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Flames blazed across the night sky. The Azure Flower Tower, a stronghold of the unorthodox paths, burned fiercely, illuminating the darkness.
The towering inferno was visible from anywhere in Fire Mountain—even in the narrow alleys of the slums where the lowly gathered.
"No!"
It was a reflexive motion. As fire pierced the gloom with a whoosh, their gazes locked on it instinctively. Choryeok, Beomsin, none of the division leaders—nor any other hall master—could tear their eyes away.
Ambition. Dreams. Everything the Dragon Star Clan's family had achieved beyond the edge of death was now consumed by the blaze. Even a Shaolin high monk might struggle to maintain composure.
The perfectly coordinated assault, rolling like an intricate waterwheel, fell into disarray. Reinforcements failed to arrive on time.
The first to pay the price was Ha Ryong, the Myriad Ghosts Scholar.
"Damn it!"
Ha Ryong was the White Paper Fan, the strategist who devised plans—a position not meant for frontline combat.
In the instant Choryeok averted his gaze, Ha Ryong—who had been using his middling martial arts to patch even the smallest gaps—was suddenly exposed before Bai Hui. A moment of carelessness had crept in. With four hall masters and a renowned ronin, they assumed they could handle any brief crisis.
But his opponent was the Thousand Kills Star, master of swift swordplay.
Those who cultivate the Path of Sensation are said to possess superhuman reflexes as their hallmark advantage.
To the Thousand Kills Star, at the pinnacle of such senses, an instant was no different from eternity.
Click.
Flash.
The blade that should have missed twisted unnaturally. With just the spring of his wrist, the edge of the hemp sword gleamed under the moonlight.
His pupils dilated. Death's intuition surged. The oncoming blade seemed to crawl in slow motion. The irreversible verdict of death, the outline of oblivion in black and white, flickered into view. His mind raced desperately, calculating every detail.
The hall masters' reactions were slow. His own defense was no better. Then where was the Black Shadow Sword? Where was the Black Shadow Sword?
'Gone!'
His eyes darted around, finding only a chill wind. The Black Shadow Sword, who had been there moments ago, had vanished the instant the flames erupted. Had he fled?
Terror arrived before lament or rage. Only one possibility remained.
Defeat and death.
"Wai—"
Ha Ryong's mouth flew open in desperation, hoping to distract with words.
But the blade was merciless. With a single thrust piercing his throat, he met his end. The sharpest mind in Fire Mountain's underworld was skewered like meat on a spit.
"Guh..."
"You bastard!"
Beomsin's club arrived a beat too late, missing Bai Hui.
Bai Hui's eyes grew icy cold. He had no intention of squandering the hard-won opportunity.
He took a step back, then charged again. Bai Hui dashed forward, the hemp sword still impaling Ha Ryong's corpse, the body flopping at the blade's tip from the throat wound.
Bai Hui's form hid behind it, out of sight. Thud. Choryeok's fist, lunging for the joint attack, halted short of smashing Ha Ryong's body. One foe left.
"You damn rat! I'll kill you!"
Jo Chamdo's kitchen knife slipped cunningly through the gap between the corpse's arm and waist. The blade curved slyly following the Thousand Tail Piercing Thread technique.
But...
"!"
There was no sensation of hitting flesh beyond. Jo Chamdo yanked the knife back in panic.
His grip felt only the empty sensation of slicing air. Clunk. The hemp sword dropped limply.
The enemy had blinded them with Ha Ryong's corpse and lured all three into one spot. Then!
"Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell!"
The frantic shout targeted Doksa Gwanggak, who was joining from behind. His Poison Snake Light Claw leaped off the wall—his Mandarin Duck Kick would have been lethal under normal circumstances.
But he realized too late. With a spin, Bai Hui—who had faced forward moments before—whirled around, even discarding the hemp sword.
"Die!"
Nine desperate kicks lashed out in frenzy. Yet they cleaved only empty air.
Bai Hui, vanishing like a phantom, seized the red trajectory with bare hands. Doksa Gwanggak's ankle clamped in his grasp. Crunch!
"Gaaahhh!"
A scream of agony. He would never use his legs again.
Bai Hui, having crushed Doksa Gwanggak's ankle, gazed down coldly at the writhing man.
"Haa..."
Each surge of qi through his meridians amplified the killing intent.
The hall masters' forms distorted, morphing like figures sculpted from flame. His vision blurred terribly, but his senses sharpened beyond measure.
He knew instinctively. The power the Girl had given him wasn't some free miracle.
This martial art, born solely from desperate craving for strength, was consuming his very spirit. Faster. Stronger. No matter the cost.
"Dizzying."
He glanced up absently at the sky. The moon warped. The full moon, shining brightly, dripped like smeared paint, while the pitch-black night sky glowed red.
Amid the spreading vitality and murderous urge, the Thousand Kills Star's senses felt his own reason slowly eroding. Operating the Reverse Blood Qi Art, the sensation of gradually losing himself was oddly peculiar.
But it didn't matter.
Squelch. Bai Hui drew the hemp sword from Ha Ryong's corpse. The blade, unmaintained since Jiangming, glistened slick with the dead man's oils and blood.
He aimed it forward. At the wavering human silhouettes.
"Once I cut you all down... it'll feel much better."
Slash!
Sword light bloomed. Blood sprayed across their eyes. Resolve turned to shock, shock to pain.
A few strokes of the blade. The three hall masters crumbled without proper resistance. Blood poured endlessly from their fallen bodies.
The Azure Flower Tower burned. Everything he had gathered, all his painstaking efforts, reduced to ash.
"Aaaagh!"
It was a scream—more wail than battle cry. Instinctive footwork, endless hidden darts launched in panic.
How had such a slender frame concealed so many darts? With every brush of her thin fingers against thigh, sleeve, or waist, darts blossomed forth. At least fifty, he thought.
Fifty darts from Guangdong's Finest Hidden Weapons expert.
An ultimate technique that could shatter an unprepared foe in one hit or sever a first-rate warrior's breath in an instant—unleashed fifty times from her fingertips. Even if Shaolin's Abbot Xu Guang deployed Unbreakable Diamond Body, it would have shattered long ago.
What was this being before him? No human—surely a demon.
"Hiiik! Uwaaaah!"
The Girl gave no answer. Squelch. She yanked out a dart and advanced. He leaped back with all his might, but the distance didn't widen. The blood-soaked Girl closed in exactly as far as he fled.
His frantic fingers unleashed the technique once more. Four Serpents Rending the Wastes—the darts scattered in all directions, shredding the Girl's body. Yet she didn't stop.
One step. One step.
Exactly matching Yong Heisha's flight.
Stumble. In his blind panic, Yong Heisha tripped over a stone. An absurd blunder. A peak master failing to mind his step on a pebble—impossible.
Only then did Yong Heisha realize.
Fear.
He was so terrified of the Girl that he couldn't move properly. Sprawled on the ground, Yong Heisha's gaze reached the night sky.
Firelight soared through the darkness. The burning pavilion dyed the shadows crimson. And then...
The Girl appeared in that sky.
Looking up at her from below, she seemed inhuman for some reason. Her corpse-pale face held no emotion. Eyes black as pitch gazed down silently.
No thrill of murder, no joy of victory lurked within. Only hatred. Pure hatred.
"You... you're not human..."
Yong Heisha muttered. Terror leaked plainly from his trembling voice.
Flames surged in the distant sky. Embers danced in the night air. Yong Heisha could smell the fire—acrid smoke stinging his nostrils.
Behind the bleeding Girl, visions of a massive blaze unfurled. Endless flames turning all to cinders.
In suffocating dread...
"What... what are you?"
The martial artist asked.
And the Girl answered.
"I am the fire that burns the fields."
The Girl smiled darkly. Her smile, framed by the blazing sky, was eerily beautiful.
"The summer storm. The landslide that crashes down. The lightning that strikes, the endless downpour."
"The death rattle of the dying. The rage of those who prostrate themselves. The sorrow of those robbed and felled."
The oppressed and broken. Those forced to endure unstoppable violence. The old mother who spent winter nights awake to save her framed son. The boy who begged for scraps for friends, beaten unconscious.
Those massacred merely for living near a mountain hiding a manual. The man stripped of his entire life for daring to challenge pride.
For them, the blade aimed their way was torment they could only pray would pass with eyes shut. A calamity impossible to dodge or block.
Sand. The Girl approached Yong Heisha.
Crawling to flee, Yong Heisha suddenly froze. The Girl whispered into the terrified man's ear.
"What do I look like to you?"
"Ah, ah..."
Demon.
The word never escaped his lips. Squelch. With a chilling sound, Yong Heisha's shoulder convulsed. His shuddering body stilled soon after.