Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Infiltrating the Demonic Cult (3)
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Excluding the ones killed by Cheongun, three survived in total.
Of course, most were battered in body and soul by Cheongun's indiscriminate barrage of flying hair needles. None had lost limbs—their arms and legs were intact enough to walk—but Cheongun saw no rush, and with night already fallen, he opted to camp.
Cheongun, sitting quietly by the campfire, sent a thought to the still sullen sword spirit, who hadn't spoken a word.
'Quiet, huh.'
— ……
'No words? Why so quiet?'
The sword spirit snorted at Cheongun's words.
— Why? You're the master, but you ignored me no matter how many times I warned you.
'I heard you. Just ignored it.'
— What? You son of a—!
The spirit, silent until moments ago, whipped its head around with a twisted expression.
It wanted to vent more frustration, but seeing Cheongun's face brought back recent events, involuntarily curbing its temper.
That wasn't a normal human. A genius—no, more accurately, a monster.
The sword spirit had long known Cheongun was at the transcendent realm.
That's why it warned him not to tangle with the demon cultists. A mere transcendent challenging the entire cult was sheer idiocy.
Yet astonishingly, Cheongun dove in without hesitation, as if he'd been waiting for it.
And the martial prowess on display was beyond what any transcendent could muster. His innate talent for handling qi was absurd.
Reaching transcendent at that age was unbelievable enough, but wielding flying sword arts with mere hairs as hidden weapons? That was even more impossible.
— ……
The sword spirit glanced at Cheongun.
Honestly, ever since becoming his familiar, it hadn't wanted to look at him, but curiosity was winning out.
What kind of person was he? Always rambling about summer this and that—his mind didn't seem all there.
After a moment's deliberation, the spirit spoke up.
— Hey, master.
'What?'
The spirit pointed at the three demon cultists Cheongun had spared, then sighed.
— Kill 'em all or don't get involved from the start. Why spare these guys?
'Didn't you say the Spirit Eye can discern human karma by color?'
— But that doesn't reveal future karma, right? They haven't piled up sins yet, but martial artists who've learned demonic arts could snap and start slaughtering anytime.
Cheongun stared blankly at the spirit before clicking his tongue.
'Do you have prophetic powers?'
— No, but isn't it obvious?
'By your logic, we'd have to kill every demonic arts practitioner.'
Cheongun replied indifferently.
He glanced at the surviving cultists sitting by the fire.
They were watching him warily, and at some point, their eyes met.
Cheongun didn't look away.
The cultists trembled, glancing nervously.
Cheongun turned back to the fire.
"Warm, isn't it? Sleeping out in this weather without it, you'd freeze solid. Humans need warmth to survive. Don't you think?"
"……"
Cheongun stared blankly at the crackling fire.
"You're wondering why I killed the others but spared you."
At his words, the cultists and sword spirit fixed their gazes on him.
"Hard to believe, but I have that ability. I can tell at a glance how much sin someone's racked up."
And it was true.
Cheongun could share vision with his familiar, the sword spirit.
"Out of them all, you three had no sins. The rest did—lived such wretched lives their auras were blood-red."
"……"
"That's why. No sin now, so I spared you. The sinful ones, I killed. Simple. That's my principle, my justification. Why? Guys like that piss me off."
Cheongun paused and looked back at them.
"You lot. What's your names?"
"Names, sir?"
"Yeah."
"I'm Bak Ung. These are Jo Cheol and Hwang Ho, in order."
"Got it. Bak Ung, you. How'd you end up learning demonic arts?"
"……"
As silence stretched, Cheongun narrowed his eyes.
"Don't wanna answer? I didn't wanna save you either, but I did. And you get to say no? Lucky you. Fine, I'll take that spirit as a lesson."
Shing—!
Cheongun drew his sword, startling Bak Ung into frantic waving.
"N-no, sir! I'll tell you!"
"Speak."
"We... were originally righteous faction martial artists."
"Righteous faction?"
"Yes. I was an outer disciple of Baekhak Pavilion, Jo Cheol of Stone Bamboo Manor, Hwang Ho of Eastern Moon Sect."
"Never heard of 'em. How'd scum like you pick up demonic arts?"
Bak Ung answered calmly.
"We were expelled from our sects."
"Why?"
"No talent. Ten years of training, and we couldn't break third-rate. We were from minor border sects... bottom of the class at best."
"So you joined the cult and learned demonic arts? Real bottom-feeder thinking."
"……"
Jo Cheol muttered beside him.
"...Easy for you to say."
And Cheongun, who never missed a thing, caught it.
"Yeah, Jo Cheol, right?"
"...Yes."
"You're right. Words are easy. And it really is. Your pasts? Not my business. Too annoying and messy to hear every passerby's sob story. Is it just you lot suffering in this shitty Central Plains?"
"……"
"Me? Total orphan, no clue who my parents were. Got beat by Beggars' Gang beggars while scavenging or roasting rats to survive. Shittier past than yours. But I gritted my teeth and raged without turning to demonic arts or joining the cult."
"Any reason?"
"Yeah. That's my last shred of pride. The world can change me, but I won't give myself a reason to crumble. Never acceptable. That's the difference between me and you."
Cheongun scrutinized Jo Cheol's face.
"Weakling."
"……"
"Not weak in martial arts. Weak in spirit. Happens to everyone, having weak sides. But you don't crumble because of them. Fall, get up. Break, stand again. You? Fell once and decided to crawl forever. That's the problem."
Cheongun continued for a while, then paused.
He observed them quietly.
True to their righteous origins, each had a sword at their waist.
Longtime partners: scabbards worn, hilts hand-oiled, sheaths scratched with age.
Clear signs of dedicated training.
Thus, no major sins yet.
Cheongun nodded.
"Swords have sword principles, paths have truths."
He stroked his demon sword.
"A sword dulls the moment it wavers. Wielded without consistent principles, it cuts even its master. Kill the innocent today, easier tomorrow, reasonless the day after. Then you delude yourself—kill without cause, then rationalize it, fooling yourself and your sword."
"……"
"That's the path to the demonic way. But me? I'm crazy, but upright. Always lived by principles."
The listening sword spirit was speechless.
True—the Bi-ma Corps, grinding people into that demon sword, justified their slaughter with excuses until they went mad. Piling reasons, deceiving themselves into belief. That's how the sword was born.
— ……
The spirit shut up.
Cheongun glanced at it, then the dumbfounded trio, then the sky.
Stars dotted the deep night. Cool wind rustled branches eerily. Only owl hoots broke the forest silence.
Cheongun lowered his gaze to the three still watching him.
"Words are easy. And I prefer easy over hard. So, simple advice: snap out of it."
"……"
"You idiots. Crawling like worms all those years after one fall? You've wandered enough."
His gaze pierced them.
"So stand up and walk straight. Tired of crawling yet?"
Dawn broke.
Cheongun tidied up and rose.
The three idiots—Bak Ung, Jo Cheol, Hwang Ho—greeted him.
Sobered by last night, their attitudes had shifted markedly.
They led the way.
According to them, the cultists gathered here weren't all.
They belonged to the Blood Ghost Squad, whose leader, Ghost Sword Jin Cheon-ryang, died by Cheongun's hand.
Other cult groups would join soon, heading to Dongting Lake.
Reason: find a hidden pearl there.
Asked what for—they'd extract jiangshi arts from it, then drag them all to the cult.
Cheongun couldn't sit out.
And now.
"That way."
Cheongun turned where Jo Cheol pointed.
Beyond the brush, dozens swarmed, black demonic auras confirming cultists.
Cheongun chuckled to Bak Ung, Jo Cheol, and Hwang Ho.
"Let's go."
"Yes, great hero."