Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: 8. There Is No Justice More Precious Than Human Life (3)
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The commotion at the main gate awakened the West Heaven Manor, which had been slumbering in silence.
Deng deng deng!
The emergency bell rang out, and countless martial artists poured forth in unison.
“What’s going on?”
“Th-there’s an enemy attack at the main gate.”
“Is it the Blood Forest Veil?”
The martial artists exchanged bewildered glances. But that lasted only a moment before their faces twisted in fury, and they charged toward the main gate.
They didn’t know the enemy’s identity, but they weren’t so soft as to sit idly by and wait for the foe to reveal itself.
It was then.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, a scorching gale surged forward like a tidal wave from the front.
The blistering wind, mingled with killing intent and heat, swallowed them in an instant.
Boom boom!
“Argh!”
“Sp-spare me!”
Deafening roars and screams mingled together, echoing through the dawn sky.
“Wh-what?”
The martial artists at the rear widened their eyes.
A single man was charging straight at them.
A man in a black robe, barreling forward like a rampaging bull. And the horde of martial artists swarming to intercept him.
Countless blades slicing through the darkness. Razor-sharp sword energies and gales whipping fiercely.
All of it was aimed at that one man.
To halt his advance.
‘We can stop him.’
‘He’s human too. If we cut him with our swords, he’ll bleed like anyone.’
Even then, they clung to a sliver of hope. But in the next instant, that hope shattered like a cheap pottery jar dropped to the ground.
Boom!
With each thunderous roar of the demon, someone was inevitably crushed and sent flying—along with their weapons.
Weapons forged by hammering high-quality steel hundreds or thousands of times were no sturdier than rotten cornstalks before the man’s fists.
“Urk!”
“Wh-what?”
In moments, dozens of martial artists lay rolling in pools of blood. Yet not one of them could halt the advance of the black-robed man, Damho.
From breaching the main gate to storming the central compound, the only techniques Damho employed were Charge and Shatter.
He felt no need for anything else.
He didn’t even need two punches. A single strike snuffed out a life.
Damho’s entire body was drenched in blood. None of it was his own. The blood soaking him was someone else’s life essence.
Amid the blood-matted strands of his hair, a black gleam flickered. The moment Damho’s pitch-black eyes turned toward him, a charging martial artist’s hands and feet froze stiff.
The martial artist swore he had never seen eyes like those before.
Were the eyes of a demon crawling up from the depths of hell like this? But he had no chance to confirm. His consciousness fled in that instant.
Crack!
The martial artist’s body slammed into the wall. Shattered masonry rained down on top of him. Still, he didn’t move. He was dead.
West Heaven Manor’s inner hall master, Jo Deung-myeong, shouted.
“Who are you? Why are you carrying out this massacre in West Heaven Manor?”
Perhaps his desperate cry got through, for Damho came to a halt.
His gaze shifted to Jo Deung-myeong.
“Are you the manor lord?”
“Th-the lord isn’t here.”
“Then bring him.”
“The lord doesn’t come just because some thug like you calls for him.”
“Even if I kill everyone here?”
“What?”
“Then he’ll come out, right?”
“What grudge do you have against West Heaven Manor to do this?”
“Why did you kidnap those merchants?”
“N-no way, for that reason?”
Damho gave no reply. No further words were needed.
Jo Deung-myeong closed his eyes.
He had always thought something like this might happen someday.
If your tail is too long, it gets stepped on. Accumulated grudges always demand their price—that was the way of the world.
Jo Deung-myeong thought that perhaps today was that day.
‘But this is too soon.’
It was then that Damho spoke again.
“Now do you get it? Then bring the manor lord.”
“I told you already, the lord isn’t here.”
“Where is he?”
At Damho’s question, Jo Deung-myeong unwittingly glanced toward the Moon-Striking Pavilion. That was all Damho needed.
“He’s there, then?”
Damho’s eyes flashed in the darkness. In that moment, Jo Deung-myeong felt his heart sink.
“N-no, that’s not right. The lord isn’t there.”
“…….”
Damho didn’t respond. There was no need.
It was the moment Damho’s footsteps turned toward the Moon-Striking Pavilion.
“Hey, hold it right there.”
“You think you can make this mess and just walk away?”
A gravelly voice rang out, accompanied by a savage killing intent that blanketed West Heaven Manor. At the same time, black shadows emerged from various spots.
Men in tattered clothes, with unkempt hair and beards. Over two hundred of them, dressed like ronin, looking utterly out of place in West Heaven Manor.
The man who appeared to be their leader sauntered forward.
A giant over seven feet tall, with a massive crescent halberd slung over his shoulder. Overwhelming pressure radiated from his entire body, enough to make anyone’s legs go weak just by looking.
Damho’s gaze turned to him. The leader grinned.
“Impressive bastard. You’ve turned West Heaven Manor into a wasteland.”
“Who are you?”
“Me? Name’s Sa Pyeong-gang.”
“Sa Pyeong-gang?”
“That’s right!”
The man who called himself Sa Pyeong-gang chuckled. Ronin-like martial artists gathered around him, shuffling forward.
With over two hundred assembled in one place, their presence was no joke.
Sa Pyeong-gang muttered as he eyed the men crowding around him.
“Thanks to you, the whole Blood Killing Wind is together again after so long. Should I be grateful?”
“Blood Killing Wind?”
“Yeah! That’s what they used to call us. And it’s the name that’ll turn you into blood-soaked sand.”
The Blood Killing Wind, once known as the terror of the desert.
The group that West Heaven Manor and the Silver River Star were said to have exterminated was alive and well. Inside West Heaven Manor, no less.
West Heaven Manor’s greatest secret was being exposed.
The Blood Killing Wind had plunged the entire Singang Province into terror, only for West Heaven Manor to step in and “clean it up,” thereby gaining public favor and power.
The Blood Killing Wind was West Heaven Manor’s hidden blade. A double-edged sword that could cut its master if revealed to the world. That was why the Silver River Star had kept them tightly concealed until now.
Damho didn’t know any of this. Nor did he care.
His gaze was fixed on one place: the Moon-Striking Pavilion. That was where the culprit behind all this chaos hid.
At Damho’s demeanor, Sa Pyeong-gang clicked his tongue in disbelief.
“Tch! Never been ignored like this before.”
“Boss, we rested too long. That’s why even a young punk like this looks down on us.”
“Might as well be a good thing. Let’s use this chance to remind everyone how fearsome the Blood Killing Wind is.”
The Blood Killing Wind martial artists chattered among themselves.
They acted as if Damho wasn’t even there, laughing and talking freely. But killing intent billowed thickly from their bodies, making even their allies from West Heaven Manor shrink back.
‘Those butchers are on the move.’
‘West Heaven Manor’s about to get swept in a bloodstorm.’
Sure, it had been a case of covering one’s eyes and crying “boo,” but they had stepped up to stop the Blood Killing Wind. They had witnessed firsthand the gruesome scenes they left behind. No one knew better than them how terrifying they were.
But in this moment, they didn’t seem so frightening. Damho, standing alone amid the horrific slaughter, was far more terrifying.
Jo Deung-myeong’s gaze turned to Damho.
‘Can those guys even stop that demon?’
Jo Deung-myeong prayed that the Blood Killing Wind would halt Damho. If they did, he could turn a blind eye to whatever atrocities they committed.
The Blood Killing Wind continued laughing and chatting. But their eyes were locked on Damho, their bodies subtly shifting to complete the encirclement.
A circular formation surrounding Damho.
The Heaven-Mixing Demon-Slaying Formation.
It was an array designed to overwhelm a small group of elite martial artists.
Its hallmark was that over two hundred men moved like interlocking gears, without a single gap, launching chained attacks.
Even Sa Pyeong-gang, who led the Blood Killing Wind, had doubted whether it would ever see use. But today, it seemed they had found a worthy opponent.
Outwardly dismissive of Damho, he instinctively knew the man was no ordinary martial artist. No normal fighter could raze West Heaven Manor to the ground and instill such dread.
It was at that moment, as the Blood Killing Wind martial artists took their optimal positions for the Heaven-Mixing Demon-Slaying Formation.
“If you’re done barking, come at me.”
Damho’s calm, sunken voice echoed out.
Fury flashed across the faces of the Blood Killing Wind martial artists at being treated like dogs. Sa Pyeong-gang’s rage was especially intense.
“Heaven-Mixing Demon-Slaying Formation, activate! Shred him to a thousand pieces!”
“Yes, sir!”
The Blood Killing Wind martial artists, who had been laughing moments ago, erupted in thunderous roars and surged forward in unison.
The Heaven-Mixing Demon-Slaying Formation was no mere joint assault. Infused with the profound principles of heaven and earth, it maximized each individual’s power and might.
Terrifying pressure bore down on Damho’s entire body.
Crunch!
His feet dug into the ground under the mountain-like force pressing on his shoulders. It was pressure that would instantly kill an ordinary person.
The surrounding area was gripped by immense force. Nearby objects shattered with creaks. Hard stones crumbled to dust, and ornate shrubs scattered as powder.
And at the center stood Damho.
Whirrr!
With a sound like gears turning, the Heaven-Mixing Demon-Slaying Formation unfolded around him.
Horizontally, vertically...
Their complex movements dazzled Damho’s eyes.
Swords thrust out to choke his breath, sharp blades flying toward his limbs.
“Brother!”
Bang Jin-bo, arriving late, cried out at the sight.
To Bang Jin-bo, ignorant of martial arts, it looked like Damho’s body would be torn to shreds any second.
In that instant, Damho moved.
Boom!
“Gah!”
A deafening boom and scream erupted simultaneously.
A Blood Killing Wind martial artist was flung back at invisible speed. His upper body was pulped beyond recognition.
Dark red blood trickled down Damho’s forearm.
Another nameless life had vanished by Damho’s hand. Still, he felt no guilt.
‘Have I become a monster?’
Damho’s jaw clenched.
It didn’t matter.
Human or monster.
This wasn’t the life he had chosen from the start.
He hadn’t wanted to become a monster, but he felt no regret for walking this monstrous path.
Thud!
He kicked off the ground.
Four swords flew at Damho.
Though nearly two hundred martial artists were attacking in concert, only four or five could strike him directly at once.
No matter how exquisite the Heaven-Mixing Demon-Slaying Formation, that number wouldn’t increase much.
At most six. So he just needed to handle six at a time.
Two hundred divided by six was about thirty-three point three. Just thirty-three or so fights. That was Damho’s calculus.
To any normal person, it would seem insane. But Damho was no normal person.
Boom!
A Charge followed by a Shatter pulverized another foe and sent him flying. Almost simultaneously, five or six martial artists became chunks of meat rolling on the ground.
“One.”
The formation’s front line collapsed.
As if waiting, the second line attacked Damho.
Six blades from six directions.
No place to dodge, no way to block.
“Got him.”
“You’re done!”
As ecstasy lit the faces of the six martial artists, Damho’s body bent in a bizarre fashion.
His torso curved like a beetle’s back. The six blade strikes slammed into it. The attackers were certain this one move would rip Damho apart.
Ting ting ting!
A faint metallic ring shattered their certainty.
The razor-sharp blades glanced off Damho’s body at an angle, absurdly deflected.
Golden Turtle Shell.
A unique defensive technique Damho had devised, inspired by a beetle’s rounded body warding off a mantis’s scythe-like forelegs.
It was a miracle born from the harmony of Dark Heaven Heart Technique and his flesh honed to the limit.
As horror dawned on the martial artists’ faces, a powerful gust slammed into them.
Boom!
A strike like a calamity crushed their bodies.
The six martial artists turned to tumbling meat chunks in an instant.
“Two!”
A low voice slipped through Damho’s lips.
His tone was quiet, yet it pierced everyone’s ears with crystal clarity.
“This bastard!”
As Sa Pyeong-gang’s eyes bulged, Damho’s voice rang out across the battlefield once more.
“Third line, come on.”