Chapter 248
Chapter 248
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 248
Chapter Title: Friend... (2)
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Deep in the valley below Mount Hua's Yun Daefeng Peak lay the Mercy Cave.
This cave was one of Mount Hua Sect's secret refuges, situated in the sect's most treacherous location.
The Mercy Cave was where one of the four great ancestors, Unhyeonja, had trained. It housed a vast underground space so immense it defied imagination for anything subterranean. When the massive stone door, operated by hidden mechanisms, was lowered, it sealed the interior off perfectly from the outside world. Thus, whenever calamity threatened to topple Mount Hua Sect, disciples were evacuated here to bide their time for a comeback.
That was why Myeonggyeong and Han Soyu had led a portion of the second-generation disciples and every last third-generation disciple into the Mercy Cave.
“Fourth Martial Uncle!”
“Sniff!”
Most of those who had taken refuge in the Mercy Cave were Mount Hua Sect's third-generation disciples. They were mere boys, not yet of age, and mostly novices who had only recently begun their martial training.
They represented Mount Hua Sect's future, yet they were still like young saplings without so much as a proper sprout. Caught off guard by the sudden disaster, they were at a complete loss.
“Hoo.”
Han Soyu let out a quiet sigh as she gazed at the third-generation disciples. A few second-generation disciples were trying to soothe the crying children, but they were shorthanded.
It was then.
“Who told you to cry? You are disciples of the righteous Mount Hua Sect. No matter the calamity, you must stand firm and unbreakable. If you shed tears over something like this, what hope is there? Remember who you are.”
Myeonggyeong's stern voice echoed through the Mercy Cave.
Even in the darkness, Myeonggyeong's eyes gleamed fiercely.
Excluding Han Soyu, no one present outranked him in seniority. Moreover, as the disciple of Immortal Hyeongeom—the Mount Hua Sect's supreme swordsman—his martial arts were unparalleled, lending his words absolute authority.
The sniffling sobs echoing from all sides gradually died down.
Han Soyu spoke softly to Myeonggyeong.
“Well done, junior brother.”
“It was nothing.”
“I know your heart aches too, junior brother. But we have no choice.”
“Hoo.”
Myeonggyeong let out a quiet sigh.
Deep down, he yearned to take up his sword and fight the Demonic Cultists. But he could not. It went against the solemn command of his master, Immortal Hyeongeom.
His assigned duty was to protect these young disciples, who embodied Mount Hua Sect's future. Swallowing his fury, he had no choice but to remain in the Mercy Cave.
Han Soyu patted Myeonggyeong's shoulder.
“It'll be fine, junior brother.”
“Senior sister.”
“We've repelled the Demonic Cult before. It'll be the same this time. Don't worry.”
Han Soyu forced a bright smile. But she couldn't fully conceal the tension beneath it.
She harbored the same unease as Myeonggyeong. Yet as the highest-ranking member present, she had to maintain a steadfast front at all times.
Rumble!
A faint tremor rippled through the walls and floor.
***
“Everyone, put your strength into it! Drive out the Demonic Cultists. That's the only path to saving Mount Hua!”
Immortal Hyeoncheon bellowed at his disciples, spurring them on.
Gone was his usual refined elegance. With disheveled hair and blood smeared across his body, Immortal Hyeoncheon evoked the image of a wrathful demon.
He had always projected utmost dignity as Mount Hua Sect's leader, but now his eyes burned bloodshot red, as if on the verge of weeping crimson tears.
The Mount Hua Sect he had nurtured with his life's blood was crumbling. Elders of his own generation vomited blood as they fell, while disciples of the prior generation writhed on the ground, screaming in agony.
Every sight pierced Immortal Hyeoncheon's heart like a dagger.
“I'll never forgive you vile scum!”
“Hand over your neck, bastard!”
“Chaaat!”
Two Demonic Cult masters lunged at Immortal Hyeoncheon.
In that instant, a sunset-hued haze bloomed from Immortal Hyeoncheon's hand.
Boom!
“Keuk!”
“Uwaaak!”
He swept his hand outward, and the sunset qi detonated. The Demonic Cult masters charging him flew back as mangled heaps of flesh and blood.
“How dare you! How dare you!”
Immortal Hyeoncheon's shoulders heaved.
What he had unleashed was Purple Twilight Astral Qi, derived from the Purple Twilight Divine Art—a technique exclusive to Mount Hua Sect leaders.
The Purple Twilight Divine Art was one of Mount Hua Sect's twin supreme arts, rivaling the One Stroke Benevolent Sword. Yet it was notoriously difficult to master fully, with few past leaders achieving true completion.
Immortal Hyeoncheon himself had stalled at the seventh stage, his duties as sect leader leaving no spare time for deeper cultivation.
Still, he had believed it sufficient. Mount Hua possessed Immortal Hyeongeom, an unparalleled genius. As long as he was there, the sect was secure—or so he thought. Now, Immortal Hyeongeom struggled against some old man.
Everything had gone catastrophically wrong. Even now, Mount Hua disciples bled and collapsed. Immortal Hyeoncheon could do little in the face of it.
“Hyeoncheon, you bastard! You're mine.”
Then, a figure approached, radiating raw killing intent. Towering at least two heads above the rest, it was none other than Mad Demon Hall Lord Hwang Ryeol.
Over a dozen Mount Hua disciples had already perished by Hwang Ryeol's hand. His body was drenched red in their blood.
“You bastard!”
“Weak as you are, how do you plan to preserve your sect's lineage? Pathetic bastard.”
“How dare you!”
“Heh heh! Mount Hua Sect ends today. I'll see to it personally.”
“Shut that mouth! Chaaat!”
Unable to stomach Hwang Ryeol's provocations, Immortal Hyeoncheon hurled Purple Twilight Astral Qi. Sunset qi surged toward Hwang Ryeol like crashing waves.
“Keuhung! Purple Twilight Astral Qi. Quite the technique. But even the mightiest divine art means nothing without mastery.”
Hwang Ryeol whipped out a ferocious punch. Savage fist qi erupted, clashing head-on with the Purple Twilight Astral Qi.
Kwaang!
A thunderous explosion rocked them both backward.
Immortal Hyeoncheon's face drained white as blood trickled from his lips. The single exchange had inflicted internal injuries. Hwang Ryeol bore no wounds.
“Kwaat! Collapsing Heaven Blood Flower!”
Hwang Ryeol fired three punches in succession. Three qi streams lanced toward Immortal Hyeoncheon's vital acupoints.
Immortal Hyeoncheon countered with the Purple Twilight Divine Art's pinnacle technique.
“Purple Shadow Crimson Heaven.”
In a flash, his body cloaked itself in a barrier of crimson qi.
Kwarur!
“Kweuk!”
Immense pressure bore down on him from all sides, staggering Immortal Hyeoncheon. Hwang Ryeol sneered.
“A warrior who neglects his martial arts might as well be dead. Looks like you've let yours rust playing at sect leader, eh, bastard?”
“Don't spout nonsense.”
“Heh heh! Is it nonsense?”
Hwang Ryeol surged his inner energy higher. The pressure on Immortal Hyeoncheon mounted relentlessly.
Immortal Hyeoncheon's face twisted.
Hwang Ryeol's barbs struck deep, undermining everything he had devoted his life to.
Bang! Bang!
Hwang Ryeol's fist qi hammered Immortal Hyeoncheon's Purple Twilight Astral Qi repeatedly. With each blow, Immortal Hyeoncheon's confidence eroded further.
The tide was turning against them.
Immortal Hyeongeom knew it but could not act. A single warrior blocked his path.
Cheon Ogyeong stood sword-ready before him.
They had clashed several times already, yet Cheon Ogyeong stood utterly composed, not a ragged breath escaping him. Immortal Hyeongeom seemed calm too, but it was mere facade.
Tied down by Cheon Ogyeong, he watched Mount Hua Sect fall. The disciples fought desperately, but to no avail.
Mount Hua's defensive line shattered. Demonic Cult warriors breached to the core sanctuaries, toppling structures and igniting blazes.
Taepyeong Palace burned first. Then flames erupted from Jinmu Palace, where he had once served as lord.
And...
“Even Yeongbo Palace.”
Immortal Hyeongeom closed his eyes.
Yeongbo Palace housed the scriptures and martial manuals emblematic of Mount Hua Sect. Its loss meant the spirit and techniques passed to future generations would vanish.
Peak arts could be transmitted person-to-person, of course—but with countless masters slain, some techniques would inevitably fade into oblivion.
Severed arts meant a severed lineage for the sect.
‘Primordial Heavenly Lord, please safeguard Mount Hua Sect.’
Invoking the Primordial Heavenly Lord he had ignored in life, Immortal Hyeongeom opened his eyes. Wisdom and sunset hues flickered within them.
Cheon Ogyeong regarded him.
“Impressive. Mount Hua's skies are vast indeed.”
“The feeling is mutual, old timer. I never dreamed the Demonic Cult hid a master like you.”
“We know each other's measure now. Time to conclude this.”
Cheon Ogyeong leveled his sword at Immortal Hyeongeom.
Immortal Hyeongeom nodded and raised his own skyward.
His sole trust lay in one thing: the One Stroke Benevolent Sword.
It alone had let him match Cheon Ogyeong thus far.
Regret lingered.
‘If only I had grasped the One Stroke Benevolent Sword sooner. If only I had met that child earlier. No—if only I had embraced him more warmly. If only I had been a better senior brother to Hyeonso...’
Regrets without end. Proof of his many worldly attachments. Yet Immortal Hyeongeom severed them all.
He merged with the sword.
Not simple sword-union, but sensing it fully—mind, body, and spirit became the blade.
Whooo!
The sword in his grasp wailed.
Immortal Hyeongeom surrendered to its cry.
Cheon Ogyeong's face hardened at the sight.
He too had pushed swordsmanship to its limits. He knew precisely what Immortal Hyeongeom had attained.
He tightened his reverse grip. His sword answered with its own keen cry.
Both blades sang out nearly as one.
Wuuung!
Their cries fused, resonating violently.
“Kweuk!”
“My ears...”
Nearby warriors' eardrums ruptured under the vibration. They clamped hands over ears and fell back, instincts screaming of impending terror.
In that instant, Immortal Hyeongeom slashed.
Shiiik!
His sword rent the void, cleaving the world asunder.
Cheon Ogyeong plunged into the rift, sword reversed.
Kwadeuk!
Like salmon battling rapids, his blade thrashed. The world-engulfing torrent parted before it.
Puk!
A faint pop echoed. Then all faded.
The maelstrom, the sundered world—silence blanketed everything, as if none had ever been.
“...”
In dead stillness, the two locked eyes.
Pity surfaced in Cheon Ogyeong's gaze.
“Had your insight been a touch deeper, I would have fallen.”
His sword pierced Immortal Hyeongeom's chest—precisely at the heart.
Immortal Hyeongeom's thrust blade lay sundered, halted before Cheon Ogyeong's chest.
Urk!
Immortal Hyeongeom spewed blood.
Vitality ebbed from his face. As awareness dimmed, Cheon Ogyeong's lament reached him.
“Thus ends a millennium of Mount Hua. Who remains to carry its essence?”
The words drifted away on the wind.
Immortal Hyeongeom smiled.
‘Don't jest. Mount Hua won't end like this. Its lineage... its essence endures in another.’
In his fading vision, one man took shape.
The man who had handed him the key to transcendence.
The man the world called the Fist Demon.
So he died with a smile.
Cheon Ogyeong turned and descended the mountain, missing Immortal Hyeongeom's smile.