Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Bloodflow Valley (4)
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A group's leader dies, and inevitably, their underlings lose the will to fight.
It makes sense. The strongest among them is gone, so what's the point of rampaging here? It's just begging for a dog's death.
More than that, they knew something.
They knew that the boy named Cheongun didn't bother with unnecessary killing after absorbing a force once.
Especially demon cultists—he tended to spare them if possible, or so they'd heard.
So they clung to a sliver of hope.
Maybe they still had some use. If they just showed intent to surrender, he'd keep them alive at least to extract information.
Clang.
The nine barely surviving men dropped their weapons to the ground and knelt one by one.
A clear sign of surrender.
That's when Cheongun started humming a tune.
"Lost my way."
Cheongun hummed some lyrics and lightly sidestepped them.
"Where should I go?"
Then he strode forward and stopped in front of one masked man.
At the same time, he raised his sword high.
"Split into six—"
—Swish.
Cheongun slashed horizontally and vertically.
A moment later.
"Shattered trash."
—Splurt!
Sword energy in the shape of a '王' precisely quartered the man.
The strike was so fast he couldn't even scream before collapsing in pieces on the ground.
Gulp.
The faces of those on their knees turned ashen.
Trembling in fear, they broke out in cold sweats.
This mad bastard suddenly started humming and diced up one of their kneeling comrades.
They were the type who killed and plundered like it was breakfast, but even they were cowed by Cheongun's antics.
Whatever.
Cheongun dragged his sword blade along the ground as he walked.
"Searching for you, step by step."
"Spare…!"
Crunch!
Another man's head flew into the sky.
"Again."
One man.
"Again."
Another.
Cheongun was killing them one by one, toying with them like playthings.
"…Can't you just spare our lives?"
One asked.
He was certain.
This Cheongun guy was clearly unhinged.
Who sings a dog-like song in this atmosphere while slicing people up? Normal?
Stay still like this, and he'd kill them all. Obvious.
Forget pride—beg for life first.
You never know.
Maybe the guy would whimsically spare them.
Cheongun's steps halted.
"Have you ever left survivors until now?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
Cheongun smiled brightly.
"I haven't."
Crunch!
The man's skull sprayed blood as it soared skyward.
Cheongun had never planned to let them all live from the start.
But they were demon cultists, right?
Spare a few, cripple their dantians, and use them as batteries. Fine.
But still.
If you're going to use them anyway, don't you want decent quality batteries? Human nature.
Look at these guys, though.
Not a single one redeemable. All irredeemable trash.
Not even worth calling "useful."
So he decided.
Dispose of every last one. No exceptions.
Cheongun doesn't overthink anything.
He just goes with his gut.
Once decided, straight ahead, no brakes.
Solutions to problems are always forward, not backward.
Then, the last one spoke.
"…Making an enemy of the Divine Cult makes survival hard. What's the reason for this?"
Cheongun nodded at the question.
"That's why I'm doing this now."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't know 'Exterminate to the Last'?"
"…Ah."
Splurt!
The last man's neck spurted into the air.
Cheongun is always a bit mad, but this time he amped up the crazy act.
To deal with psychos dragging in innocent boys and girls to rip out their hearts as offerings, he had to match their madness, right?
They'd only come at an invitation, but he ended up killing every last one.
Well, wiping out trash feels pretty refreshing.
Anyway, good is good.
Cheongun began tidying up.
He stuffed the corpses into sacks and chucked them over the valley's unfathomable depths.
Corpses always leave bloodstains and wounds—clean disposal essential.
The ones buried messily in pits… Fuck it, skip? But they kept nagging at him, so he stopped.
All orphans anyway—no parents to return them to one by one.
Too many for individual funerals, and leaving them felt wrong, so he gathered the bodies, doused in oil, and cremated them.
What can you do?
Weak get crushed in this world.
Just rotten luck.
At least he avenged them—go to the afterlife without regrets.
Cheongun stared blankly at the flames.
The roaring red fire had a strangely poetic vibe, drawing him into thought.
When he killed that Food and Soul Demon Lord.
Precisely, when a mere sword beam devoured sword aura.
...How'd I do that?
Feels like I could do it again, but trying to formalize the qi flow and form in my head? No clue.
Like enlightenment flashed and fled.
It's elusive, like fog you can almost grasp but can't.
Ah, damn. How'd I do it?
Something like twisting the sword energy this way and that, pulling it out smoothly.
Feels like one more step would've unlocked enlightenment or whatever.
Frustration surges.
One more try, and I'd get it, right?
Any more demon lords around?
Just need to kill one or two more.
Damn, when you need dog shit for medicine, none around.
Cheongun clicked his tongue and stood.
Footsteps echoed entering the temple.
He searched every corner for a storeroom somewhere.
Spoils of war are the victor's right.
Of course, he'd comb every inch, nothing missed.
But who are these Blood Cult lunatics? Hoards of talismans, bone relics, sorcery orbs… all ominous crap.
Of course, anything valuable, he pocketed without fail.
Surprisingly decent haul.
Anything else?
Cheongun delved deeper inside.
A chill crawled up his spine.
He followed the narrowing passage into deep darkness.
At the cavern's end, he spotted something in the gloom.
A black wooden box.
Sinister crimson patterns etched on its surface, thick killing intent radiating around it.
Yellowed talisman-like papers plastered all over.
Blood-drawn ritual circles scrawled across the floor—clear signs of demonic path grand ritual.
Come to think of it.
That guy I killed.
Said he needed demon cultist hearts to complete some grand ritual, and it'd earn him a position in the cult.
This must be it.
The sword-length box had peeling black lacquer, blood talismans stuck in the cracks.
Black miasma seeped from the seams.
Looks untouchable, but gotta check, right?
Cheongun pondered briefly, then touched the box.
Ripped off the talismans, opened it—revealing a black leather sheath.
The sheath itself shrouded in unidentified black mist, blurring its form like an optical illusion.
Ghostly qi, yet laced with demonic nature and turbid energy.
Cheongun gripped the hilt.
Pulled the sword free.
"Hm."
A jet-black blade etched with red blood veins—a demonic sword.
Austere without excess ornament, but the blood channel grooves along the blade screamed unnatural.
More than that.
—Vmmm!
The moment he gripped it, ambient qi churned, ground shaking.
Black energy rippled, filling the space.
At the same time, a muffled ring echoed in his ears like tinnitus.
As if wails of the dead from somewhere.
Cheongun glanced down at the blade.
His reflection stared back.
Black energy wormed into his pupils, slowly corrupting.
Sky turned red, surroundings darkened.
Sudden stench of blood, walls bleeding illusions.
Ah, fuck.
I know exactly what this is.
Far in the future, a faction splits from the Divine Cult and rampages in the martial world.
Blood Heaven Divine Cult.
Shortened to Blood Cult.
They have a legendary heirloom passed down orally.
A living sword forged from human flesh and blood—sacrificing those devoured by demons.
A bewitching sword.
Unless you're on the Blood Cult route, no need to touch this monstrosity.
Grab it, and the怨魂 inside erodes your mind, driving you mad. A cursed item.
Performance aside, wielding it just makes you crazier—a true demonic object.
But problem.
"……"
Black energy buzzed around Cheongun.
But he just stood blankly, staring at the sword.
Looks like...
I picked up an endgame item.