The Heavenly Demon Copies Martial Arts
Clash! Clang! Clash-clang!
Screams tore through the air from every direction. Sparks flew like lightning bolts, filling the night.
Whoosh—whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
A black mass swept through the surroundings like a storm. For a moment I wondered if those were human movements at all. Was it even possible for people to move with such organic, insect-like coordination?
Back when I had wandered the capital desperate for any scrap of teaching, I had seen formations on the marketplace floors. I had even watched martial artists execute joint formations a few times. More often than not, though, I had tilted my head in confusion rather than admiration. They would strike this pose or that, claiming it was a formation, then leap about with swords while talking about a crane’s protective wings. Maybe it was just my ignorance as a complete novice, but none of it had looked the least bit threatening. Back then I had dismissed it as little more than a showy martial dance.
Today I saw an entirely different world.
Rats!
That was the first word that rose in my mind. Thousands of black rats had gathered into a single, enormous, living giant. Every time that massive black wave surged and crashed, the desperate struggles of the escort warriors looked feebler than fireflies.
“Stay back, stay back…! Hiiik!”
They flailed with their swords until, one by one, their limbs were torn away and they died. Every so often a lucky escort managed a mutual kill, driving his blade into the throat of a Demon Cultist who had latched onto him. But every single one of those escorts met the same promised end—they were never allowed to die cleanly.
“Guaaaargh!”
Both legs severed, both eyes gouged out, ears and nose sliced off—yet they kept writhing, still alive. The cultists would not let them die. The intent was unmistakable. In that wordless silence it was a clear threat.
Accept death quietly—that’s the threat!
Would you take a painless death, or would you be denied even death and suffer eternal agony? Terror froze every sense. Fighting spirit drained from every man. No one knew whether to resist or not; they floundered in confusion. Even if they had thrown everything into a pure contest of skill, victory would have been uncertain. In this situation, it was only natural that they could not even bring out a quarter of their true strength.
These escort warriors had trained hard in their own way. They were grown men holding real swords. If they had fought for their lives with everything they had, they would have inflicted some losses no matter how strong the enemy. But before that overwhelming despair, the merchant caravan’s escorts collapsed helplessly. Amid the groans, screams, and pure pandemonium, the Demon Cultists watched with the cold eyes of birds of prey and kept cutting.
This was the true Heavenly Demon Cult—the power of seasoned, organized martial artists.
“Damn it, damn it!”
Squelch, squelch!
I crawled through the corpses in the pouring rain, white breath steaming from my mouth. Even then the escorts kept dying without pause, limbs ripped away. It was a scene from hell.
“Hiiik! Don’t kill me!”
One of the escorts did something no martial artist should ever do—he threw away his weapon, turned his back, and fled. That single act showed just how thick and mad the scent of death hanging over the battlefield had become.
It’s only a matter of time.
There was no room for doubt. They were no longer any help. If I wanted to live—if I wanted to live—
A weapon… I need a weapon.
I had to move on my own. I had to prepare as much as possible before they all went down. The single sword at my waist and the gauntlets alone would never be enough.
“Run!”
Even the last remnants of the escorts’ formation shattered. After that it was pure one-sided slaughter. Time was running out. The one small mercy was that the Demon Cultists’ attention had scattered as they chased the escorts fleeing in every direction.
I rummaged through the corpse lying on top of me. My fingers closed around three throwing daggers. I stowed them inside my clothes.
“Haa… haa…”
I reached to the side. My hand found a metal skewer of unknown purpose. I tucked it at my waist.
“Damn it… still not enough… nowhere near enough.”
Why were my movements so sluggish? In the rain my hands and feet kept slipping uselessly.
Squelch.
One of the bodies in the mud pile stuck out at an angle. The headless corpse, dressed in expensive silk, was slumped against the carriage. It was Merchant Lord Huang’s body.
…!
I crawled through the mud. I dragged a corpse over myself for cover and searched its clothes.
“Gyaaaaah—!”
Far off, one of the few survivors who had managed to run a decent distance screamed and died. Cold sweat ran down my spine. I searched the corpse’s waist. The resin-soaked torch stuck in the carriage flickered, making the sweat on my forehead gleam.
There was nothing in the clothes. My increasingly frantic movements made the body covering me rock and shift more and more. It had to be there. I had seen him put it away at the end. In my hurry I must have missed it. Start over. Search carefully from the beginning.
Click.
A cold sensation met my fingertips. What I had touched were the three grooved daggers Merchant Lord Huang had been so proud of.
Found them.
With trembling hands I pulled the belt holding the daggers free and slung it across my shoulder. From the headless merchant lord’s robes I took out a small wooden box. Inside, wrapped in oiled paper, was the gunpowder. Thankfully the thoroughly oiled powder packets had not gotten the slightest bit wet even in this downpour.
Clink, clink.
While keeping watch in every direction, I clumsily handled the daggers among the corpses. I fumbled several times. I was not used to this.
“It was like this… he did it like this…!”
At last I pried open a dagger blade and packed the gunpowder into the groove exactly as Merchant Lord Huang had done.
Click.
The blade locked into place, fully loaded. At that exact moment a bone-chilling sound of wind slicing air came for the back of my neck.
[Host, behind!]
There was no time to turn my head. Instead of looking, I swung my arm backward with all my strength.
Screeeech!
The blade aimed at my neck met the steel gauntlet protecting my elbow in a shower of sparks and a deafening screech. The Demon Cultist who had lunged at me widened his eyes behind his mask at the unexpected resistance.
“Die!”
I drove a dagger straight into the center of his chest. The tip wavered. The dagger sank only halfway.
Flash.
Even with the dagger in his chest, the cultist’s right hand came swinging toward me. A fist loaded with demonic energy. If it landed, my skull would explode. I clenched my teeth and slammed the heel of my left palm down onto the dagger’s hilt with everything I had.
BOOOOOOM!!!
A roar that shook the gorge left only the lower half of the Demon Cultist standing in front of me, his entire upper body blown away. And then everyone stopped.
“….”
Every Demon Cultist froze mid-motion in the pouring rain and stared at me alone with expressionless faces.
[Host, move!]
I bit my lip. Surviving a frontal fight was absolutely impossible. There was only one chance. Strike while the explosion still left them unable to grasp the situation. No hesitation. Move. Pour everything I have into it. That was the only way I could live right now.
I won’t die.
I had to pour everything out. Only then would I live…!
“Mumyeong!”
[Understood!]
My eyes flooded with crimson light.
Grade 4 — Kongtong Sect’s Hwan-yeong-dae-sin-bo
CRACK-BOOM!
A single bolt of lightning split the rain, and my form vanished.
“What?”
That was the first word to leave any of the Demon Cultists who had been focused solely on one-sided slaughter.
“I never heard there was a martial artist with the caravan!”
“Isn’t that footwork from the Kongtong Sect?!”
The cultists flinched. The world seemed to freeze. Rain filled everything. With every step the thick mud clung to my ankles. My targets were the three Demon Cultists holding torches right in front of me. Blocking their vision came first. Everyone else was already dead. Anyone still moving here was trying to kill me. But not you three—not yet.
I slammed both hands against the ground and at the same time drew the three throwing daggers from my waist. My eyes scattered crimson light once more.
Grade 5 — Mount Hua Sect’s Plum Blossom Spinning Dagger
Power overflowed through my entire body. The force of a full gapja of internal energy easily surpassed the power of the Plum Blossom Spinning Dagger I had first witnessed from that Mount Hua disciple, Tang Sowi.
Flutter.
Even amid the black rain, the signature of Mount Hua martial arts—pink plum blossom petals—shone vividly.
“Plum blossoms?”
“Now it’s Mount Hua?!”
Whoosh!
The sound when the throwing dagger left my hand was faint. But Mount Hua martial arts powered by a full gapja of internal energy—
BOOOOM!!
—roared like a thunderbolt and blew away the cultist’s entire right shoulder along with the torch.
“Gyaaaaah!”
The Demon Cultist screamed in shock.
“What kind of power is this?!”
I used the extreme chaos to hurl the second dagger in a flash.
KRAAANG!
The second torch flew away together with the cultist’s head. One torch remained. I quickly adjusted my grip on the third throwing dagger and spread my stance to throw.
Squelch.
My foot slipped in the mud. I felt the strength leave my fingertips, and the throwing dagger only grazed the third torch before flying wide.
“Damn it.”
I felt death take another step closer. Before regret could set in, I dumped ice water over my overheated brain. The die was already cast. Now I had to climb onto the blade and dance until either I or they were dead.
My senses sharpened like a honed edge. I scooped up a handful of mud and flung it at the third target, who was still flailing after losing his torch.
Puh.
Raindrops that had clung to my lips flew forward with my ragged breath.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
My footprints carved into the mire, lightning flashing behind them.
“Gyaaaaah!!”
The start of the blade dance. The start of a desperate struggle to live. The stage was set. I would open the board before they could gather their wits. I was the protagonist of this stage. They were the guests. If the guests came to their senses, I was finished. I had to kill them before their thoughts and focus could settle. I could not allow them to display their true skill. An ambush beyond ambush.
Whoosh!
Before the mud kicked up by my foot even settled, in the instant our eyes met—in that fraction of a fraction of a second—I spread all four limbs like a spider lunging for prey and threw myself at the third target.
“Euk!”
Even then the tip of his blade reacted. He thrust his spear at my approaching throat.
CRACK-RUMBLE!
Hwan-yeong-dae-sin-bo, pushed to its absolute limit, moved on the foundation of vast internal energy.
Shhk!
I barely twisted my body aside. Scattered red droplets. The right side of my neck was sliced open as the spear scraped past.
Whirl.
With a single flick of my fingers the metal skewer spun in my palm and reversed its grip. I drove it straight into the exposed joint of his elbow.
Clang.
The skewer pierced the joint and snapped, its life spent. The target’s body jerked and froze.
“Ugh.”
I used abdominal breathing to force power into my dantian and core. Crack-crack—my spine aligned in a straight line. I clenched the fist wearing the gauntlet.
Grade 4 — Shaolin Temple’s Vajra Demon Subduing Fist, Basic Twelve Forms
The power from my lower body slamming against the ground traveled through calves, thighs, and waist all the way to the broken skewer in my hand—
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.
Tongtian. Zonghui. Qucha. Guangming. Yintang. Shuigou. Xiaguan. Tinggong. Tiantu.
Fists shot out in rapid succession, hammering the target’s vital points. Blood sprayed from nine holes as he collapsed. The expressions of the remaining Demon Cultists hardened sharply.
“Now it’s Shaolin fist techniques?! What the hell is this bastard?!”
“To think such a powerful master was here!”
The target died instantly. I dodged a sword swing. A spear grazed my side. With that final strike, the flow of my ambush was broken.
I opened the distance. My shoulders heaved with my ragged breathing. Rain poured down over me.
Shaaaaaa…
Silence arrived after the great chaos. In that silence we stared at each other. White breath steamed from every mouth. The third torch, fallen on the ground, flickered.
“Haaak… haaak…!”
I gasped for air, fighting to steady my shaking breath, then looked ahead.
“…Hah.”
The red torchlight cut through the darkness. I had definitely killed several of them. Overwhelmingly so. Yet in the dark, dozens—hundreds—of unharmed eyes still stared at me. There were simply too many. They watched my gasping form without even their breathing disturbed.
“Keh-heh… how the hell am I supposed to survive this?”
Despair seeped into my crimson eyes.