The Heavenly Demon Copies Martial Arts

—BOOM!

I shattered the arena floor beneath me and charged Ryu Hwasa at a full sprint.

Tsk. Leave the arena and it's a forfeit, Moyong Bi-gun. And if you forfeit—

Ryu Hwasa's brow furrowed as he thrust a palm toward me.

How irritating. Curse.

My toes had just been about to leave the ring.

—Clunk.

My body locked in midair.

—Flash.

Ryu Hwasa's palm faced me. He lifted.

His hand went rigid.

Squeeze.

"Ghk—!"

My body seized and crushed in on itself.

This is—?!

I had seen a technique like this before, at the Namgung Family's Heavenly Net Battle.

Grasping Objects from the Void? Really? No. There's no way he's that high a master!

Even then, Ryu Hwasa had wrapped himself in crimson energy and lifted a boulder the size of a house. As far as I knew, Grasping Objects from the Void was a martial art only truly formidable masters could perform. Ryu Hwasa was never that kind of expert.

His sneering telepathy bored straight through my skull.

Gone quiet, have we? Have you finally learned how a piece on the board is supposed to behave? Ahaha… But while we're at it—!

His right hand stayed trained on my trembling body. Veins stood out on the back of it.

—Heh.

Ryu Hwasa smiled.

No matter how fond I am of you, a piece belongs on the board, Moyong Bi-gun. Or what?

He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at me.

You don't actually think that just because I let you hit me for fun on our first meeting, that places me beneath you? I am, after all, one of the Seven Palace Lords.

—Tremble. Tremble.

A thin line of black blood ran from the corner of my mouth.

"Wh-what? Something's off with the butcher."

"Is that blood on his mouth?"

Only the spectators seated closest to me were beginning to notice that something unnatural was happening. Barely any time had passed since Sumaho went down. From the outside, it must have looked as if I were simply standing frozen after a brutal fight, staring blankly into empty air, still vibrating with the aftershock of the match.

Ryu Hwasa ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spoke again.

You've never heard of anything like this. And why would you? Across the entire breadth of the martial world, there is nothing even similar to it—so of course there is no counter. It is a secret art passed down to a single heir.

I felt the invisible grip around me tighten, degree by degree. My throat closed. I clenched my teeth until sparks jumped in my eyes. With a body tempered as mine was, I could resist this much—anyone ordinary would already have been wrung into pulp.

To the stands, I was still nothing more than a fighter who had shouted after Sumaho fell, glanced at the crowd, and then simply stood there, rooted and shaking.

The announcer's voice kept rolling through the arena.

"…Sumaho is down! If he does not rise, the match will be declared over—! He appears unconscious, but as this is a main-bracket bout, we will count to ten!"

—Waaaaah!

The crowd roared.

—Crack. Crunch!

I felt every bone in my body warp. My ribs twisted to their limit.

"Huh…?"

The announcer, mid-count, faltered as if he had sensed something wrong in the air.

"That contestant—something's not right."

"Isn't his whole body twisting?"

One by one, people in the stands began to feel the strangeness of the atmosphere. Someone sniffed.

"What's that fishy smell that's been hanging around?"

—Rustle.

Behind the spectator seats, bare-chested men with beast masks and sickles in their hands started filtering in, one after another.

"Y-you—!"

I was resisting with everything I had. Bloodshot veins stood out in both eyes, ready to burst. Ryu Hwasa's gripping hand and bare forearm had flushed a deep red from the strain of holding me.

Hm. Bravery is a look I like, but our Moyong Bi-gun doesn't understand the world. Even a street thug who trains his outer body cannot ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠defeat a martial artist who cultivates inner energy—that is common sense. Trying to meet a sorcery head-on with raw physical force is futile…

—Drip.

Ryu Hwasa touched under his nose.

Huh?

A thick stream of blood was running from his nostrils.

—Plip.

Nails were coming free from the hand that had been clutching me. From the fingertips up, the flesh was turning black and dying.

…Squeeze… is being… pushed back?

"Ryu Hwasa. Can you hear me from there."

I muttered it, head bowed, gasping for air.

—Drip.

Red blood ran from my mouth.

"There's one thing I really need to know. For the first time in my life, I stayed awake all night with my eyes open."

I spoke as if spitting the words out with the blood in my mouth.

"There's a fire raging inside me, and nowhere to go check. I want to know if she's dead or alive or hurt so badly I could die from not knowing, but no matter how hard I think, there's no way to confirm it. I want to smash my head against a wall and scream and go completely insane—but if even I, the only person here who knows her, do that, nothing that could be fixed will get fixed. So I'm holding onto my reason and enduring it, and that just makes me want to lose my mind even more. And right in the middle of all that, the person who looks most clearly connected to it walks right up in front of me."

I looked at Ryu Hwasa.

"I'll be a man about it and not ask a pile of questions. I won't ask about the process, or the method, or the reason. Just one thing I actually want to know. Whether you're a strategist or a madman or whatever else—if you're a man of the martial world, and a man at all, answer this one thing. Your life hangs on that one answer, and so does everything I do next."

…What?

Ryu Hwasa laughed as if he couldn't believe it.

"No—sorry. Not just your life."

I opened my mouth. As my organs ruptured and my whole body was wrung tighter, black blood poured down my chin.

"Depending on the answer, I might spend every breath I have left tearing the head off every last person in the Blood Sect, from the old men to the children. I swear it to the heavens."

…

I couldn't hear Ryu Hwasa's voice. But even though I was only muttering, my words carried to everyone.

"D-did he just say… the Blood Sect…?"

The announcer repeated it in a daze. I paid him no attention. Head still lowered, I went on.

"I've only ever taken free meals from her. I've never once cooked for her. I'm so worthless that even when I saw something she liked, I never managed to buy her so much as a cheap bracelet. Taking the time to do something for her—as if that were so hard—I never even managed that properly. I'm such a cripple that I only ever received, and never gave anything back the way I should have. Without thinking, I told myself I could do it tomorrow. I act like I've seen the world's rough edges, but the truth is I never even had the courage to say one honest line to her—that after a hard day's work, all I wanted was to hear someone say 'you did well'…"

I clenched my teeth until they nearly cracked.

"The only courage I ever managed was realizing later that when she casually said 'you did well' and asked how I felt, that had been her way of trying. Because I'm a cripple."

I gasped for breath.

"So just one question. I'm going to ask it for real now. I've never wanted an answer this badly in my life. You bastard. Consider it an honor."

I raised my head and looked at Ryu Hwasa.

"Is So Yeomgyo dead."

I looked at him and asked again.

"Is So Yeomgyo dead."

Bloodshot eyes blazing, black light ready to erupt from them, I said it once more.

"So Yeomgyo—so is she dead, or isn't she."

…

Ryu Hwasa stared straight through me. There was not even a smile on his face. His skin, paler than flour, wore a perfect blank expression I had never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seen before.

—Drip.

Blood still ran from his nose and mouth without stopping. He opened his lips. For the first time here, his real voice rang clear ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠across the stands and the arena floor.

"So the name of that incredible Blood Death Sect leader—the one who smashed our mechanisms and slaughtered Blood Sect men—was So Yeomgyo."

"…"

Ryu Hwasa raised one hand and calmly laid his free hand over the one still gripping me.

"When someone I like asks a once-in-a-lifetime question with that much force… ha. It's enough to drive a man mad. Very well. Answering a confession that hot and earnest is the only way not to betray my own life. And that statement just now—"

He nodded.

"—will be the only thing you've ever said that actually affects what I do. A truly excellent stimulus."

Ryu Hwasa showed a red smile like the flesh of a split watermelon.

"I have three answers for you. All three will be the solution you so desperately want. Oh yes, they will. So—"

He held up three fingers.

"Enjoy them."

He folded one finger down.

"First. Three hundred fifty-two mechanisms. One hundred twenty-two elite Blood Sect soldiers alone. Every sealed terrain only we know, plus formations… we threw all of it at her, and according to the reports, we only managed to wound her once with a blade. An astonishing level of mastery. By now she's probably gone to ground somewhere… That should answer your question well enough. And immediately, the second."

Wrapped in a red glow, Ryu Hwasa rose gently into the air.

"Wh-what?! That man's floating!"

Chaos erupted. People in the stands flipped over in shock. Every eye locked on Ryu Hwasa. He paid them no mind and went on speaking.

"You all seemed intent on stopping the resurrection—and birth—of the eleventh Guardian, whose line was cut when the Nightless Hundred-Eight Seven-Night Rite was blocked. Did you know that ritual is split across two altars? And for the third and final answer. Of those two altars—where do you suppose the altar for the first rite, the one I'm about to begin, happens to be?"

"…You're starting it now?"

A thought flashed through my mind. When I first stepped onto this arena, Mumyeong had said something. He had repeated that the platform felt strangely wrong—even uncanny. He had even deciphered the White Lotus Demon Sect crest set into the pillars.

Ryu Hwasa continued.

"This was never some crude sparring ground thrown up by black-path rabble. This place is a legacy of the White Lotus Demon Sect—a living altar for offering human sacrifices. It's time it returned to its original purpose."

His mouth stretched in a grin that nearly split his face.

"You, you know. Listening carefully, you're rather insolent. How dare you speak of the Blood Sect? Did a mere martial artist just claim he would tear the heads off the entire Blood Sect?"

I had suspected it. Shoving the rising hypothesis aside, I shouted.

"You think the martial world—the Imperial Court—will just stand by if you do something like that?!"

"There is no martial world that cares when a commoner, a black-path nobody without even a high office, burns to death, Moyong Bi-gun. And do you imagine I made no preparations for that? To hide a forest fire, you start a larger one. I spent a full six years preparing for this day. Still don't understand? Look around you. We even filtered the crowd down to identities no one will bother avenging. Heh heh."

I looked around. Everything finally made sense. The atmosphere in the arena was nothing like usual. On the pretext of renovations, every high official and important person had been steered somewhere else for this day alone.

"A great fire is scheduled for Shaanxi today, this place included. Do you really think anyone above will single this spot out for extra investigation? Ha. Hahaha. And in that spirit—"

Heat haze unfurled from his whole body, and crimson energy boiled up around him the way it had at the Namgung Family. Ryu Hwasa drew a deep breath.

"Let's play."

A vast roar like metal being scraped raw filled the entire space.

"All twenty-one units of the Blood-Scarlet Eight Gates—seal the altars of the Nightless Hundred-Eight Seven-Night Rite's eve, and execute as previously arranged. Butcher any resisting personnel of Unwol Jiju's Jeolhae Fifth Branch. All of this is authorized by order of the Seventh Palace Lord."

From every direction, answering voices of iron rang out.

—We receive your command, Seventh Palace Lord!

At the four gates of the arena—north, south, east, and west—massive stone doors slammed shut at once.

"What the—!"

People screamed. Panic sent them running every which way. The stone doors were thick. Fire began to leap. From every side, Blood Sect men in red martial robes and beast masks poured out, swinging the sickles in their hands.

"Urgh! Aaaaagh!"

"Somebody help!"

Hell broke loose.

—Slash.

The white stone of the stands began to glaze over with blood.

—Hum.

As fast as it was spilled, the blood was absorbed. The ground started to shake.

"And what is a piece like you going to do about it? Keh keh keh. You're still flailing under a single Squeeze—First-rate? Peak level at best? I know everything about you, Moyong Bi-gun… Your rapid growth is admirable, but you've been—how shall I put it—far too cheeky."

Ryu Hwasa looked down on me from the air.

"Stay right there and watch, helpless. I will neither kill you nor release you. How dare you? Touch So Yeomgyo and you'll what? Tear the Blood Sect's heads off? Haha, hahaha!!"

He clutched his stomach and laughed.

"What can a powerless thing like you possibly do from that spot right now?! A worm with a loud mouth! Uwaha!!!"

People wailed as sickles punched through them. Where matches had once been fought, corpses piled into hills.

"No. I may not know the rest—but I know one thing for sure."

"What?"

At my answer, Ryu Hwasa frowned and looked at me.

"You're going to die."

—Boom.

My presence changed.

"That's all."

Black lightning I had never shown before wrapped my body. What that meant was singular.

Mumyeong spoke.

Host… have you lost your mind?! Everyone is watching!! The aftermath—!

Every fleeing spectator in the stands could see it.

"Black lightning?"

"Good heavens!"

The crowd reeled in horror.

"H-hiiik!"

The announcer collapsed where he stood.

—Crack!! Snap, crackle!!

Black lightning began to spit from the tips of my feet. A Blood Sect man who had been chasing spectators looked my way.

—Shake… shake, shake…

The arena floor started to quake.

"U… uwaaah!!"

—Creak… grind… screeeech!!!

The ceiling shuddered. Loose stones rattled. Ryu Hwasa's eyes went wide.

"Don't you dare play cheap tricks! If Squeeze isn't enough—then regrettably, I'll simply kill you in one stroke!"

—Flash!

He flung both hands wide, seized empty air with all his strength, and roared.

"Wring!!!!!"

"Urgh—!"

My body flinched. Blood streamed from my nose.

—And nothing happened.

"Wh-what!!!"

Ryu Hwasa went deathly pale.

"Why won't the body break! Why won't it break!"

Panicking, he clawed at the air again and again.

"Why—the body—!"

—Flash!

I reached out. Ryu Hwasa was hurled backward, blood spraying from all seven orifices.

"Waaargh!"

He righted himself in midair, muttering in disbelief.

"My Wring… was thrown back… head-on?"

His nails, trembling as he stared at them, had been torn out by the roots, fingers bent the wrong way. The eyes he turned on me were soaked in terror.

I clenched my teeth.

"Uwaaaaaaah!!!"

Spitting blood, I was opening everything—every grudge, every past, every last piece of myself.

It was every scrap of power I could draw, from crown to sole—everything except the final chapter, Liu.

—Thud.

Ak Ryu-yeop, one of the Three Evil Young Masters, who had been drawing his sword and stubbornly closing on the Blood Sect packs, went blank and muttered.

"G… g… good God."

For the first time in his life, watching another man's martial art drained him of the will to fight.

"That's a human being? That… thing."

To oppose someone, you need to be at least close enough to form the intention. Even awe only takes root when you can see a path that might lead you there. And once something exceeds the limits of imagination entirely—

"He's a Martial God made flesh."

—terror is what takes hold.

—Tremble, tremble…

Ryu Hwasa's legs were shaking. His whole body was shaking. He muttered as if he could not believe it.

"I thought I had mapped everything. When—just when the hell…!!"