Chapter 4
Chapter 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Last Man Standing
-----------------------------------------------------------------
In that instant, a cold wave seemed to wash over the training grounds.
Survive.
In the end, did this not mean that only one person would be chosen from among the countless talents gathered here?
“How can this be?”
At that moment, a girl in green clothes standing near the middle cried out in a sharp voice.
“All the talents here are followers of the Demonic Path. Are you telling us to fight amongst ourselves?”
“Whether you fight or kill is your own affair. All that matters is that you become the victor and survive, one way or another.”
“Isn't that the same thing?”
“Leave if you don't like it,” Hyeok-ryeon-eung said nonchalantly.
“No one is forcing you. You are free to give up, just as you are free to participate.”
—Leave if you don't like it.
Left speechless, the girl in green fell silent.
Seeing no further protests, Hyeok-ryeon-eung nodded and spoke in a low voice.
“Then, begin.”
*Jiiing.*
The gong set up on the training grounds rang out once more.
In that moment,
“Aargh!”
A scream erupted from the center of the grounds.
A boy had drawn a short spear with lightning speed and attacked the person standing next to him.
“Jeok-ryong. Today, I can finally kill you.”
“Wi Un-cheong! You…!”
Wi Un-cheong and Jeok-ryong.
The two were mortal enemies, their feud a tangled web of family and sect grudges. Wi Un-cheong had taken this chance to ambush Jeok-ryong and settle the score.
—Uwaaah!
As Jeok-ryong fell, bleeding, dozens of participants screamed.
Watching the scene unfold, Hyeok-ryeon-eung nodded with a rather satisfied expression.
“Those who wish to leave, leave now. Once the fighting truly begins, you will have no chance to escape.”
But no one moved.
To be chosen as one of the Sip-ma-jeon-in and learn a world-shaking martial art—it was a path to becoming the greatest master of the Demonic Path. It was not just a dream.
How could they let such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slip away?
*Screee. Chaaang. Clang!*
A few people on the training grounds drew their weapons and began to fight.
However, most of the participants still looked lost, shuffling about uncertainly.
No matter how much they wanted to select the most outstanding individuals, they had never imagined such a cruel plan would be carried out so readily.
—They didn't make us sign those waivers just to scare us!
Finally realizing the weight of the waivers they had signed, a few participants turned and ran out of the training grounds.
But most of them were now swinging their weapons like madmen.
‘Fools.’
Bu Eun-seol stood stoically at the edge of the training grounds, his expression cold.
Despite his conspicuous monastic robes and the bamboo basket on his back, no one attacked him.
‘The fear of death has robbed them of their reason.’
Everyone on the grounds was like a blind man, attacking only the enemies closest to them.
The fear of death had paralyzed their minds.
—Fight. And survive.
Those words did not necessarily mean they had to kill the other participants here.
They meant to endure. To hold on persistently until the very end and survive.
‘If they had listened calmly, this wouldn't have happened.’
Unfortunately, most of the participants were young, having only just mastered the martial arts of their sects.
In contrast, there was Bu Eun-seol, who had prepared corpses for burial every single day for a year.
Having contemplated the meaning of the word ‘death’ daily, he felt neither fear nor terror toward it.
“Uwaaargh!”
“Keuk!”
“Aack!”
Sharp screams began to echo from all directions.
Participants who had started empty-handed, those who had just been cheering each other on—before long, they too had drawn their weapons and begun to unleash killing techniques.
‘So they aren't all idiots.’
Far away, a boy with a black sword strapped to his back and a hero's headband tied around his forehead was, like Bu Eun-seol, standing back at the edge of the grounds, calmly watching the fight.
“Haap!”
Just then, a boy who had been felling participants left and right, swinging a meteor hammer like a bolt of lightning, met Bu Eun-seol’s gaze.
“……?”
The boy flinched slightly upon spotting the figure in black monastic robes carrying a bamboo box.
But he soon saw Bu Eun-seol’s stance and scoffed.
“What a pathetic wretch!”
Those who practiced martial arts always kept their lower body firmly planted on the ground, no matter their stance.
Seeing Bu Eun-seol’s feet, stained with blood clots, resting limply on the ground, the boy instantly knew he hadn’t learned any martial arts.
“Take this!”
With a sharp cry, the silver meteor hammer flew toward Bu Eun-seol’s face like a flash of lightning.
As Bu Eun-seol reflexively leaned back,
*Whoosh.*
The meteor hammer swung in a semicircle through the air and struck him in the back.
*Crack!*
The bamboo box shattered and fell to the ground.
As he scrambled to pick it up, the meteor hammer spun through the air again, this time aiming for the box.
*Crash!*
Inside the broken box, a black garment was visible.
It was the monastic robe Bu Jan-yang had worn in life, the one he was to be buried in.
“Are you a robe merchant?”
The boy, spinning his meteor hammer, sneered, but Bu Eun-seol’s eyes remained unshaken.
“You will die.”
“Hahaha. How amusing. You think you can kill me with that sword?”
Just as the boy was smirking,
*Thwump.*
With a dull sound, the sharp tip of a spear protruded from the center of his chest.
“Ugh.”
He turned to see a boy with a short spear driving the tip in with all his might.
It was Wi Un-cheong, the one who had ambushed and killed Jeok-ryong earlier.
“You….”
As the boy with the meteor hammer tried to move, Wi Un-cheong swiftly twisted and pulled out the short spear.
*Gush.*
The boy, pierced through the heart, spat out a mouthful of blood and died on the spot.
*Thud.*
Looking down at the fallen boy, Bu Eun-seol muttered under his breath.
“That man with the short spear has been waiting for a chance to attack you for a while now.”
Bu Eun-seol had noticed the boy swinging the meteor hammer like a madman, and Wi Un-cheong lurking nearby, seeking an opportunity to strike.
In the end, by loitering in front of the boy with the meteor hammer, Bu Eun-seol had helped Wi Un-cheong.
“Hmph.”
Wi Un-cheong seemed to realize this as well, and he scoffed at Bu Eun-seol.
“Why did you help me?”
“I figured I would have had to face him eventually anyway.”
“From the looks of it, you haven't learned any martial arts.”
A smirk formed on Wi Un-cheong’s face.
“I can kill trash like you anytime.”
Wi Un-cheong was enjoying the thrill of his ambushes.
He was roaming the training grounds, assassinating the stronger fighters.
A weakling like Bu Eun-seol could be killed at any moment, so he turned away without a second thought.
But Wi Un-cheong did not know. He did not know that Bu Eun-seol had predicted his every move.
And that turning his back was a grave mistake.
***
“There are no noteworthy ones yet.”
Hyeok-ryeon-eung, watching from the dais, frowned.
In truth, it was he who had proposed this second test.
A practitioner of practical combat, Hyeok-ryeon-eung had opposed the idea of selecting the Sip-ma-jeon-in based solely on their physique.
—It is true that a good physique is paramount to learning supreme martial arts. However, we cannot judge a prodigy capable of reaching the pinnacle of demonic arts by their physique alone.
In the end, respecting his opinion as the Head Instructor, they had created a second gate to select more candidates for the Sip-ma-jeon-in.
“To think there would be such a lack of talent just because we excluded those with good physiques.”
*Tiiing!*
Just then, a clear metallic ring echoed from the training grounds.
A boy with a hero's headband had drawn the saber from his waist.
“The Sakjeongdo?”
Hyeok-ryeon-eung’s eyes narrowed.
The weapon the boy with the hero's headband had drawn was the Sakjeongdo, the favored saber of Muk-hon, once known as the greatest swordsman among wanderers.
Considered one of the four great sabers under heaven, the Sakjeongdo’s whereabouts had been unknown since Muk-hon’s death.
And now this boy with the hero's headband was holding it?
“Is he Muk-hon’s disciple?”
At that, a refined-looking middle-aged man standing behind him stepped forward.
It was Baek Jeon-cheon, the leader of the Man-bak-dang.
“His name is Neung Un-gang. He claims to have found the saber and a manual left behind by Muk-hon deep in the mountains.”
The Man-bak-dang was a gathering of brilliant scholars, serving as the brains of the Demonic Cult.
Before the contest began, Baek Jeon-cheon had memorized the personal details of all the participants listed in the register.
“In any case, since he inherited Muk-hon’s legacy, he is his disciple in a sense.”
“In that case, that boy will be the last one standing.”
“However, since he learned the saber arts from a manual, his techniques are not fluid.”
Baek Jeon-cheon pointed to Wi Un-cheong among the fiercely fighting participants.
“In my opinion, that child seems to be the most outstanding.”
Wi Un-cheong had assessed the martial prowess of the participants on the grounds faster than anyone else, and more importantly, he showed no hesitation in using killing techniques.
Such a disposition was highly suitable for learning demonic martial arts.
“That one will fall before long.”
“Pardon?”
“No matter that there are no allies and everyone must kill each other, if you go around ambushing people, you are bound to draw attention.”
Hyeok-ryeon-eung shook his head.
“It's not a wise thing to do unless you have the skill to face all the enemies on the training grounds at once. Eventually, you become the target of everyone’s vigilance.”
As if to prove Hyeok-ryeon-eung’s words, Wi Un-cheong’s ambushes began to fail more and more.
Not only that, but the participants around him started to attack him with a single mind.
‘He will die soon.’
Baek Jeon-cheon, marveling at Hyeok-ryeon-eung’s sharp foresight, spoke.
“But is it really necessary to select candidates in such a brutal manner? Surely there are prodigies who would develop quickly if taught martial arts, even without fighting like this.”
“The elders originally said we only needed to select prodigies with excellent physiques. Do you know why I planned this second test?”
“Hmm… Is it not to find talents who may lack in physique but are strong in actual combat?”
“Not at all.”
Hyeok-ryeon-eung chuckled softly.
“To reach the pinnacle of demonic martial arts, one needs not only a good physique but also an innate sense and a killing intent that can overturn the heavens.”
Hyeok-ryeon-eung looked at the boy with the hero's headband and said with a confident expression.
“And that can only be seen in the midst of extreme combat. Just like that child.”
“Neung Un-gang… you mean?”
“Yes. He possesses a beast-like instinct and killing intent. He will likely be the last one.”
At Hyeok-ryeon-eung’s bold declaration, Baek Jeon-cheon offered a placid smile.
“I suppose the words of the Head Instructor, who has likely fought more than anyone in his lifetime, must be correct.”
But Hyeok-ryeon-eung’s prediction was only half right.
When the battle finally reached its end, there were two people left on the training grounds.
***
The participants who had filled the training grounds like a cloud were now mostly dead or dying from fatal wounds.
No matter how skilled their martial arts, the participants were all young boys and girls under the age of eighteen.
At an age where even the meaning of death was foreign, surviving a chaotic battle where enemies were on all sides was an impossible task.
Even Wi Un-cheong, who had roamed the grounds picking off the strong, was now a cold corpse.
*Shhhk.*
Neung Un-gang, standing tall on the training grounds, flicked the blood from his Sakjeongdo.
“Unexpected.”
Neung Un-gang looked at Bu Eun-seol, who stood steadfastly opposite him, and smiled.
“To think you would be the last one to survive.”
Neung Un-gang already knew.
He knew that the boy standing before him was the weakest and most insignificant among all who had filled the training grounds.
“Now, if I just kill you… I’ll become a candidate for the Sip-ma-jeon-in, won't I?”
Despite Neung Un-gang’s taunt, Bu Eun-seol simply stared at him in silence.
“Heh heh.”
Neung Un-gang let out a low laugh and beckoned to Bu Eun-seol with his finger.
“Come at me.”
*Thud, thud.*
Bu Eun-seol, who had painstakingly avoided combat until now, slowly approached Neung Un-gang.
This battle was unavoidable.
Without defeating Neung Un-gang, he could not become a candidate for the Sip-ma-jeon-in.
*Clack.*
Setting down the broken bamboo box, Bu Eun-seol drew the sword hanging at his side.
Watching him, Neung Un-gang bared his teeth in a grin.
“You madman.”
Even at the insulting provocation, Bu Eun-seol did not react, focusing his mind.
As he had stealthily moved around the training grounds, Bu Eun-seol had already predicted that Neung Un-gang would be the last one standing.
‘He is the strongest.’
It looked as though he was swinging his blade randomly, but every move contained a profound principle.
He defeated his enemies with difficulty, but his skill was steadily improving.
Bu Eun-seol had intuited that Neung Un-gang was the strongest among the participants.
And so he had diligently observed, and observed again, the wounds on the participants he had struck down.
‘I can definitely win.’
Bu Eun-seol had already found a flaw in Neung Un-gang’s sword techniques.
Moreover, Neung Un-gang was underestimating him.
In a real fight, the slightest carelessness could decide life and death.
Especially since Neung Un-gang had figured out that he hadn't properly learned martial arts, he would likely try to end his life with a leisurely attack.
“What a lofty dream.”
Neung Un-gang saw the fighting spirit in Bu Eun-seol’s eyes and sneered.
“Do you really think you can beat me?”
*Flash!*
The blackened Sakjeongdo flashed brilliantly in the air.
*Squelch.*
With the sound of tearing flesh, blood spurted from Bu Eun-seol’s shoulder and right thigh.
“You’ve got guts, but that won't be enough.”
Neung Un-gang had expected Bu Eun-seol to jump back and dodge, and had developed his technique accordingly.
But Bu Eun-seol had simply stared at him, not moving a muscle, as if he were a statue.
“Or maybe, you couldn't dodge? Hehehe.”
Letting out a low laugh, Neung Un-gang swung the Sakjeongdo again.
*Paaat.*
This time, a chunk of flesh flew from Bu Eun-seol’s shoulder.
He could have simply cut or stabbed him to death, but instead, he had only sliced off the muscle in his shoulder to inflict pain.
*Drip. Drip.*
Clots of red blood fell from the spot where the flesh had been torn away.
But Bu Eun-seol just stood there placidly, as if he couldn't feel pain at all.
“Hahaha! Are you too scared to move?!”
Like a cat playing with a mouse, with every swing of Neung Un-gang's blade, Bu Eun-seol's robes became soaked in crimson.
*Drip.*
Even though he wore black monastic robes, the red blood seeped into the fabric.
Bu Eun-seol looked like a snowman painted with black and red paint.
“What a pathetic blade.”
Bu Eun-seol, his entire body stained with blood except for his two eyes, spoke in a low voice.
“All it seems to do is slice off bits of flesh.”
“What did you say?”
In an instant, a cold glint shone in Neung Un-gang’s eyes.
“Are you asking me to kill you quickly?”
A thick killing intent rose like a haze from Neung Un-gang’s eyes as he held the Sakjeongdo.
He had decided to finish Bu Eun-seol with his most brutal and sharpest technique.
‘He’s coming!’
Seeing Neung Un-gang twist his grip on the Sakjeongdo, Bu Eun-seol raised his own sword to a middle guard.
‘I only have one chance!’
Bu Eun-seol, who had been constantly studying the wounds of those struck down by Neung Un-gang.
He had discovered a fatal flaw in the killing blow Neung Un-gang frequently used.
‘Below the knee.’
The moment he extended his saber, it seemed to envelop the opponent without a single gap, but in reality, it only attacked the area above the knee.
‘He must think no martial arts master would ever drop to the ground to dodge an attack.’
“Die!”
Just then, Neung Un-gang charged forward using a movement technique and unleashed his killing blow.
*Flash!*
As a brilliant light flooded his vision, Bu Eun-seol, without a moment to think, dropped flat to the ground like a bolt of lightning.
*Swish.*
The sharp technique grazed over his head, shearing off his disheveled hair.
‘Now!’
Leaping up like a freshly caught carp, Bu Eun-seol thrust his sword with all his might at Neung Un-gang’s Cheondol Point.
—The Cheondol Point is a spot that even external martial artists find difficult to train.
—But isn't that where street performers place swords?
—Hahaha. That's because they press the blade slowly against their necks. It's a vital point where even a child striking with all their might can knock out an adult.
*Thwack.*
A dull thud was followed by a choked groan.
“Urk.”
Neung Un-gang’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide.
Somehow, the old sword was now lodged in his throat, right below his Adam's apple, at the Cheondol Point.
“Kkh, kkeuuh….”
Even if it was a sword made to ward off ghosts, the blade was still sharp.
*Drip.*
As red blood flowed from the sword embedded below his Adam's apple, Neung Un-gang, who had been letting out choked groans,
*Kooong.*
died on the spot.
At the same moment, the loud sound of a gong rang out.
The second test was over.
“……”
But an entirely unexpected result had occurred, and a deathly silence fell over the dais.
“Is it over?”
Bu Eun-seol looked up at Hyeok-ryeon-eung and Baek Jeon-cheon on the dais and opened his mouth.
“Or is there another gate?”
Soaked in blood, his eyes upturned, Bu Eun-seol looked like a single Rakshasa demon that had clawed its way up from hell.