Chapter 306
Chapter 306
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 309
Chapter Title: Hell's Survivors
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Splash!
Blood splattered across his face, blurring his vision for a moment.
Swoosh.
He wiped the blood from his face, closed his eyes, and then opened them.
His hazy sight cleared.
On the ground lay the tattered remains of what had once been a man, twitching before sinking into a pool of blood.
The Black Flame Demon Lord, was it?
Yeah, that sounded right.
The master of the Zhu Rong Demon Sect, or something like that.
Who knew.
“…Looks like it’s just us now.”
Ha Hu-yeong turned at the voice from behind him.
There stood the Sword King, his once pristine white robes soaked red.
He looked haggard, drenched in exhaustion.
Even he, called a transcendent being, had worn down after over forty days of nonstop war.
Gone was his composed demeanor; his eyes, mad with fervor, had lost their sharp glint.
Ha Hu-yeong shook the blood from his blade.
“Do Heavenly Zen robes wash blood out well?”
“…”
“I’m serious.”
It was hard to tell if the Sword King’s twisted lips were a smile or a grimace holding back pain.
Ha Hu-yeong glanced behind the Sword King.
A hundred… no, closer to two hundred corpses, it seemed.
The nauseating stench of blood already rose, and flocks of crows circled noisily overhead.
Noisy.
Yes, in this silence, it was noisy.
The ochre earth was dyed red, corpses scattered messily like stones.
He couldn’t even tell if the bodies rolling there were allies or those vile, repulsive demonic scum.
This was hell.
Yes, this place was hell.
If not a sea of blood and mountains of corpses, then what was?
Ha Hu-yeong let out a wry chuckle.
“Well, same as always.”
Who cared how many came or how many died?
What mattered was that he had survived again, making history.
Ha Hu-yeong absentmindedly wiped his blade as he eyed the Sword King.
“You haven’t changed your expression once, past or present.”
What?
Why the long face?
Ha Hu-yeong looked at his blood-smeared hell blade.
“Because of the dead?”
“They were our comrades, our brothers-in-arms. You…”
“If they can’t keep up, they die. So what?”
Anger flashed across the Sword King’s face.
“You really never change.”
“That’s why I’ve made it this far.”
“How long do you think you can fight alone? Until when? Until no one’s left around you?!”
Ah, this guy.
Pissed off, huh?
Ha Hu-yeong’s expression turned icy.
“You’re crossing the line.”
“…”
“You lot chase grand causes and justifications. I live my way. Think all you want about comrades and watching backs—does that end the war?”
He kicked a sword rolling on the ground with a thud.
Blood-soaked dirt sprayed up.
“Our job is chopping the heads off those charging demonic bastards over there.”
“…”
“I’d rather go alone than drag a thousand weaklings. That’s me.”
In the past, he’d been called the Ghost Blade, the Heaven-Trampling Blade, the Overlord; now, the Lone Conqueror.
That was Ha Hu-yeong, himself.
“The law of the jungle. The strong devour all. That’s war. I’ll discard the weak without mercy.”
“…”
“Who’s left behind me? Doesn’t matter if no one is.”
He’d thrown himself into this demonic blood tribulation solely to prove himself.
Whatever it took, he’d prove it in this war.
That’s how he’d lived, and how he’d keep living.
The Sword King fell silent.
Ha Hu-yeong stopped talking too.
Silence descended briefly, broken by the raucous cawing of crows.
“…Ha Hu-yeong. With nothing, you’ll prove nothing. Nothing…”
“Hmph!”
Ha Hu-yeong snorted.
“Anyway, just lop off the Demon Lords’ heads, right?”
“History isn’t so clear-cut.”
“We’re almost there. Remember that.”
“…”
The Sword King started to speak but clamped his mouth shut.
Tch, butt-hurt now.
Petty, for the Sword King.
The Sword King muttered softly.
“To remember you, I’ll have to survive too.”
“…”
“At least one guy to carve your name on your tombstone, right?”
He slowly turned his body.
“Let’s make some tombstones. Plenty of names to etch.”
Rough graves, crude tombstones.
“Jeok-un, Sa-ui-cheon, Maeng Geum-jin, Cheong-yeon…”
“Cheon Gyeong-hu, Mak Si-yeong, Gang Byeong-eul…”
“Wang-chil, Il-gak, Ak-san…”
The names of those buried in heaps were carved into the stones.
No time to make proper graves; part of him hoped they could be easily exhumed and returned to their clans someday.
“No, I’m not even sure I felt that way anymore.”
Ha Hu-yeong watched with a heavy gaze.
The Sword King spoke quietly.
“You’ll realize it someday. When this war ends, or after, or far in the future.”
“…”
“Sooner or later, you’ll have to look back. People don’t grow just through martial prowess.”
Softly… hoarsely… his voice echoed in his ears.
* * *
His head throbbed blankly.
Everything before his eyes was pitch black.
Ah, just moments ago, the sky was definitely red…?
What happened before it turned like this?
Namgung Jangcheon had charged in, Paeng Cheonwi thrust his blade, Dang Uicheon screamed, right?
Felt like Namgung Ryong grabbed and shook him.
Why did the Thunder Dragon Squad jump in?
His cheek stung, so maybe they slapped him?
No, did these guys slap his… wait?
Slap him?
Hold on.
I was in the middle of a war.
Lost consciousness during war?
Consciousness?
Me?
Passed out?
In the middle of war?
Flash!
“Gahaaaaah—!”
Screwed up!
Passing out in the middle of war!
Namgung Hyeok bolted upright, flailing wildly before screaming.
“Arrrgh!”
The sensation of his limbs being torn apart drew out an involuntary cry.
Suppressing the pain, Namgung Hyeok scanned his surroundings.
Huh?
“What is this? Where am I?”
A pristine white ceiling, and the Green Shadow Blood Hand of the Tang Clan in green robes extending red acupuncture needles…
“Assassination?!”
“Assassination?!”
“No, I asked for help, and now you betray me by choking my neck… ugh, urk!”
Dang Uigeum, the chief steward of the Sichuan Tang Clan, looked flustered at Namgung Hyeok.
‘What the? I haven’t even inserted the needles properly yet?’
What kind of insane recovery was this?
He’d been thrashing alone, then bam—eyes wide open!
Even back in Sichuan, he hadn’t seemed ordinary, and that vitality was no joke.
“What is this…?”
Wincing from the excruciating pain, Namgung Hyeok glanced around.
Clang! Boom!
He whipped his head toward the deafening roar in his ears.
Through the thick purple blood mist, warriors charged at each other.
What the hell?
Clang-clang! Rrrumble!
“Block them!”
“Charge—!”
“These bastards!”
Metallic clashes rang out everywhere, accompanied by roars.
The Thunder Dragon Trio stood weapons raised, guarding all sides.
Geon Cheon-hwi lit up.
“Young Master Yi!”
“Huh? Young Master Yi?”
“Are you conscious?!”
Deflecting flying hidden weapons and enemy assaults, the trio chattered.
They couldn’t hide their joy.
“Why faint so dramatically! Thought you’d dropped dead!”
“Exactly! With our cockroach-level vitality… no, Tang Clan medicine is good, huh? Wakes even the fainted right up?”
“That was a seizure, right? Saw you swing your arm just now? Packed with qi—gotta suspect it was on purpose.”
Blink. Blink.
What the hell had these guys been yapping about?
Namgung Hyeok searched for Namgung Ryong.
This felt awkward.
Back turned, guarding the front?
“Hyeok-ah!”
Namgung Ryong turned his head while fending off foes.
Emotion surged in his eyes—relief mixed with worry.
Namgung Hyeok pondered the situation.
Around him stood Namgung Ryong, Paeng Jung-hyeok, So Hye-yeon, and the Thunder Dragon Trio on guard.
Beyond them, the Thunder Dragon Squad, So Geol-gae, the Tang siblings battling the unorthodox alliance from afar.
And Namgung Sega elites, Northern Paeng Clan, Tang Clan members gathered too.
A subtle emotion flickered in Namgung Hyeok’s eyes.
Gathered…?
Namgung Hyeok turned his head again.
Ah, aah.
Breathing raggedly, he looked at those around him.
Their faces, their voices echoed in his mind.
“Move Young Master Yi to the medical tent!”
“Protect Young Master Yi—!”
“Repel the unorthodox scum!”
“Thunder Dragon Squad, hold position—no retreat!”
Ah…
That right now…
‘…Sword King, you bastard. What the hell did you see in me?’
Maybe Mal-ko should’ve been the Sword King.
The chaotic dream fragments resurfaced, stirring odd feelings.
The Sword King’s words lingered in his ears.
Namgung Hyeok shook his head lightly, then bit his lip as muscle-tearing pain hit.
“Urgh!”
Dang Uigeum quickly supported his body.
Dang Uigeum gripped Namgung Hyeok’s shoulder.
“Stay still! It’s not just external wounds—your internals are a mess!”
“Sleep it off and I’ll heal.”
“Heal my ass!”
Had he ever seen such an absurd guy!
Dang Uigeum warned sternly.
“Clan Head Tang’s orders! Heal you and keep you alive, no matter what!”
“I’m alive. Good enough.”
“Wh-what?”
Namgung Hyeok gritted his teeth, forcing himself up, then circulated the Heavenly Sky Bright King Art, infusing strength into his battered body.
‘Wasn’t it broken…?’
Had the Heavenly Sky Bright King Art worked its magic?
Or the power of some unrefined spirit medicine he hadn’t even known about?
‘Doesn’t matter. I can move—that’s what counts.’
Dang Uigeum gaped.
‘…Moving in that state?!’
Even full Tang Clan treatment would need over ten days of rest, he’d thought.
Namgung Hyeok’s injuries were that severe.
External wounds, grave internals, damaged innate qi—his breathing ragged, he could collapse any second.
Yet he moved!
More shocking than his prowess was this mental fortitude and recovery.
‘Even so!’
Dang Uigeum reached to apply bloodletting or whatever treatment, but Namgung Hyeok lightly dodged.
With fierce eyes on Dang Uigeum, Namgung Hyeok turned his head.
“Young Master Yi!”
“What are you doing! You need treatment!”
“Crazy!”
Namgung Hyeok eyed the rowdy Thunder Dragon Squad and gripped his demon sword.
“War’s not over.”
“But…”
“Enemies right in front—gonna lie here?!”
Strength filled his clear, resolute gaze.
“I’m not dead yet.”
Who’s dying?
Not for another hundred years—no, till ascension.
Using his demon sword as a cane, Namgung Hyeok stepped forward.
Pale faces of the Thunder Dragon Squad cracked unwitting smiles.
Laughter amid war? Because Namgung Hyeok, who could die any moment, acted just like always.
No—even madder zeal shone through.
Yeah, that’s the Mad Dragon for you.
Geon Cheon-hwi shook off his sword and stood behind him.
“We’ll guard you as best we can. Lean on us today.”
“Kahaha! Trust this Takhyeok-dong. Solid as rock.”
“Solid? What’s solid? Your skull?”
“You little shit!”
Namgung Hyeok glanced at the babbling trio, then surveyed around.
Paeng Jung-hyeok and So Hye-yeon watched silently.
Namgung Ryong stepped forward.
“I’ll stand before you.”
These guys, seriously.
‘Rest up and they’ll eat me alive.’
Already so…
Namgung Hyeok raised his demon sword and took a step ahead.
“No hobby of chasing backs.”
“…”
“Not in front—beside me.”
A faint smile tugged Namgung Ryong’s lips.
Namgung Hyeok eyed the allies lined to his left, right, rear, then beyond.
Unorthodox alliance warriors, pushed to a corner of the outer courtyard, caught his eye.
“Time to finish it.”
Step. Step!
Namgung Hyeok advanced.
The finish—by no one else’s hand, but his.
No, by Namgung Sega’s.
“Haaaaah—!”
Namgung Hyeok roared, charging forward.