So This Is Poison Arts?

From within the darkness, six blood-stained eyes gleamed, all of them fixed on Baek Sihyeon.

Every one of them radiated a savage, overwhelming presence.

His instincts were screaming a warning.

Those things are dangerous.

Shrrk—

His sword swept down in one clean arc, carving away the rotted flesh of his arm. There was not a flicker of hesitation in the blade.

Baek Sihyeon's face contorted in pain.

"Ughk..."

Deep crimson energy rose from the wound, rapidly regenerating the torn flesh.

But the venom that had burrowed into his body refused to fade. It lingered within him, grinding away at him with ceaseless, merciless agony.

Dang Jeong stared at the throwing dagger embedded in the wall, his eyes going wide with shock.

"That's... Hwanpokbi—the Phantom Burst Dagger..! And laced with Myeolhondok, the Soul-Annihilating Poison, no less..."

"Is that what those things just were?"

Baek Sihyeon asked it between ragged breaths, and he looked, unmistakably, like a man worn to the bone. Seeing him like that, Dang Jeong felt a small spark of hope kindle in his chest.

Could it be that this old monster's weakness was poison after all? And if they could just smash that altar... might he be able to kill this Horse-Demon too?

"...That's right."

Baek Sihyeon nodded and answered offhandedly. Poison was, after all, the most effective weapon a weaker fighter had against a stronger one.

And then, from far off, the hidden weapons came flying again. A dagger split the air toward the two of them, and along its trajectory a massive explosion bloomed.

Baek Sihyeon deliberately offered up a finger to the blast and leapt from his spot. The finger swept by the green explosion turned jet black.

So he dodged. And dodged. And dodged again.

"How long do you intend to do nothing but dodge! If anyone's going to charge in first, it'll be me!"

"What's the hurry?"

"What—?!"

It was a bucket of cold water thrown over Dang Jeong as he poured out his frustration, face scarlet.

"My family is in there right now! The backbone of our clan, who we all believed had been dragged off and killed—they're alive in there!"

"And?"

"And yet you stand there so calm—!"

"Will charging in blind make things better? Have you even thought about what might be waiting behind that darkness draped like a shroud?"

"Can you not feel it? This whole space is filling up with Soul-Annihilating Poison! It's the deadliest of the deadly—no antidote even exists! I might manage, but if you get poisoned—!"

"I didn't expect you to worry about me. Don't bother."

Baek Sihyeon's hand slowly rose. It was an inexplicable gesture, but the strange pressure radiating from him sealed Dang Jeong's mouth on its own.

And in the next instant—

From his entire body, a green energy began to swirl up into a colossal vortex.

"Wh... what in the world..!"

Dang Jeong grasped the true nature of that storm and was floored by the shock of it. And small wonder—it was something that simply should not have been possible.

"Demonic arts... had something like *that* hidden inside them all along?"

And at the sight of it, the old man who had been crouched low, muttering something under his breath, lifted his head.

His blood-glowing eyes settled quietly on Baek Sihyeon, rising at the heart of the vortex.

"So this is poison arts..."

The fruit of fusing the poison techniques the Tang Clan used with his Blood Soul Demonic Art.

He wasn't about to do anything as stupid as copying their martial arts wholesale and using them as-is when he had no intention of killing anyone here. So instead, he had melted the Tang Clan's poison arts into the Blood Soul Demonic Art—and now even poison itself could be absorbed like an elixir, or bent entirely to his will.

Baek Sihyeon gazed quietly at the dagger in his hand, then hurled it at the dozen-some objects streaking in from the front.

Shwiiik—

Carrying the intent of the Heaven-Concealing Sword Art, the dagger—hidden from the eyes of the entire world—infiltrated the enemy ranks in absolute silence.

And along its path, a deep crimson explosion tore open the air.

It was an blast charged with the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠full savagery of the Blood Soul Demonic Art—so violent that their paltry imitations could not even be compared to it.

The explosion scattered and obliterated every hidden weapon mid-flight. And beyond them, he could feel the Tang Clan fighters taking the hit as well.

His gaze lifted to the old man on the altar, watching him from above.

The long blood-soaked robe draped over his body looked almost like the vestments of a high priest.

"You seem impatient. Attacking this fiercely, all of a sudden."

"...The gatekeepers were all felled... by a whelp like this?"

"Your eyes for judging people are simply rotten. Tragic, really."

"...They were not of my choosing."

"Trying to salvage your pride now? A heretic apostate, at that."

At those words, the old man's face twisted into something grotesque and murderous.

"Silence. How dare a green boy call me a heretic. All of this is by the will of Mara Pason. Witness the judgment he delivers upon you."

"Wait, so you actually *were* a heretic?"

"SILENCE!!!"

Kugugugu—

The instant the old man raised his aura, figures emerged from the darkness spread across every side—the main fighting force of the Tang Clan, abducted and brainwashed.

Judging by the presence they exuded: three at Peak realm, seventeen at Transcendent.

"Dogs of the Tang Clan. Clear away the trespassers."

His blood-red robe billowed, and things like wisps of black mist began spreading outward from him. They looked like nothing so much as a horde of vengeful ghosts.

Kiii-ki-ki-kiiik—

A bone-chilling chorus of ghostly wails, like fingernails shredding an eardrum, filled the vast cavern.

"...Hm."

The crimson formation spread across the ground began to glow brighter than it ever had before.

Incomprehensible words began spilling from the old man's lips.

"What in the world is he saying?"

"It is already too late. The Rite is all but complete. Witness the ruin of the Central Plains, you unbelievers."

The moment the declaration left his lips, countless hidden weapons and projectiles poured down like rain from all four directions at once.

Soul-Severing Sand, fine ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as drifting dust, and Seven-Step Soul-Chasing Sand filled the very air of the cavern.

"...Nowhere left to run."

If he couldn't dodge, then the only answer was to stop them.

And for holding back a blind barrage of projectiles from every direction, nothing in the world suited better than the Heaven-Concealing Sword Art.

The Heaven-Concealing Sword Art, unleashed through the Blood Soul Demonic Art.

Thanks to that, the sky overhead filled not with azure lightning, but with a storm of deep crimson thunder.

Baek Sihyeon hid his body within it.

Countless projectiles, robbed of their target, were literally shredded apart by the raging crimson bolts raining from above.

But the old man—who mere moments ago had sat slumped in place, mumbling his strange incantations—now trembled violently at the sight of his Heaven-Concealing Sword Art, as though he could not believe his own eyes.

"Th... that is... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Heaven-Concealing Sword Art? The last traces of the Sword Immortal were supposed to have been erased from this world..!"

He covered his face with his hands and shook.

Amid the storm of crimson thunder hanging in the air, every time a bolt of wrathful lightning struck down, one more Tang Clan warrior collapsed.

"He sealed the Rite and subdued his own reason... so even a concealment this crude slips right past him. So this is all the fabled Peak realm amounts to—utter trash, every one of them."

"Well, who told him to do something that stupid."

More to the point—his Heaven-Concealing Sword Art was *crude*?

What kind of nonsense was that?

Three Tang Clan warriors still stood. Baek Sihyeon descended behind one of them and drove his sword, wreathed in crimson lightning, straight through his body.

That thrust was, in truth, nothing less than a single falling bolt of lightning.

Kwarurung—

The thunderclap swept away the ghosts' wailing and shook the entire cavern to its bones.

And so, one more brainwashed Peak-realm warrior of the Tang Clan fell.

Then... he saw it—a jet-black Ghost Claw plummeting down toward the very spot where he stood. Catching the faint glimmer of starlight glinting between its talons, Baek Sihyeon threw every ounce of his strength into the Heaven-Raising Taeguk Step and tore himself out of the way.

Hard qi of that caliber was impossible to meet head-on.

A thunderous boom followed, and a colossal claw mark was gouged into the floor.

He didn't need to look to know who had swung the Ghost Claw.

"Whatever else you may be, you who inherited the Sword Immortal's legacy... I shall erase you here and now."

"...Yowch."

"Go on, then—hide again, if you can. I will tear you apart... storm of thunder and all."

A gray storm swirled up around the old man. Through its churning depths, countless human faces writhed, wailing their agony without end.

Wisdom of the demonic art's true nature and its method of use carved itself into his mind.

A demonic art that devoured the despair, terror, and torment of those who had died at its wielder's hand, and made that agony into power.

And a heaven-defying sorcery that seized souls bound for the underworld, barring them from flowing on as fate intended.

Then those hundreds of faces... every one of them...

"...Are they each a single soul?"

"Become [One] with me, as I have."

The wails and terror of the vengeful dead coalesced in the old man's hand, taking the shape of a Ghost Claw. Between the talons of that vivid jet-black claw, twinkling starlight glimmered.

It was an overwhelming power.

The power of the Demonic Path—shredding every rule and every restraint, carving open one's own road where none existed.

A mountain built from the blood and corpses, the despair and screams of countless souls...

began to lumber down upon him.

The Ghost Claw roosting in the old man's hand became a storm in its own right, whirling around Baek Sihyeon—as if to declare that no path of escape would be granted.

Chwa-jwa-jwa-jwak—

Countless afterimages clawed across his body, and his clothes began to shred.

He intended to deal with Baek Sihyeon first; he didn't spare Dang Jeong so much as a glance. The despair etched on Dang Jeong's face was plain to Baek Sihyeon's eyes.

And before long, the man turned and started running for the open door.

"...Time to stop playing at being a mere demonic cultivator."

Demonic arts, at their core, crushed an opponent through sheer overwhelming force. Which meant that against the demon before him, demonic arts could never be the answer.

Match the Blood Soul Demonic Art against it, and it would simply be torn apart by something greater.

He needed something new.

"At the same time as the Blood Soul Demonic Art... is it even possible?"

He murmured it almost involuntarily, a flicker of self-doubt rising in that instant. But he quickly steadied his heart and raised his sword.

Even if it looked impossible, it had to be done.

And I can do it.

Had he not endured sixty long years—those endless hours of torment?

A history that no one else remembered, yet was written within him and would never, ever fade. That history held him up.

And so, running the Blood Soul Demonic Art even as he fought... a new aura of deepest black and purest white began to bloom from his entire body as well.

Using his blade as a brush, he painted a Taeguk onto the world in ink of black and white.

Dang Jeong's fleeing feet stopped dead. The old man's bloodshot eyes flew wide open.

"That is... the Taeguk Wisdom Sword..!"

The Taeguk, ringed in crimson, spun—and scattered green mist-like poison miasma in every direction.

The storm of Ghost Claws began to be swallowed whole into the heart of the Taeguk.