Chapter 9: There Won't Be a Second Time
Dok So Gong clutched his severed right arm and staggered backward. His eyes were fixed on the sword.
A pitch-black blade with a blue orb at the end of its hilt.
The sword hung motionless in midair.
A gasp of astonishment escaped through his gritted teeth.
"Flying Sword...!"
Flying Sword.
The technique symbolizing the Super Peak realm, where one wielded the blade solely through sheer will, without even touching it.
"N-No way! How can someone your age, barely out of your teens, wield a Flying Sword? Even the Martial Alliance Leader hadn't reached that realm at your age... you bastard...!"
It was only natural that poisons like corrosive lung toxin or paralyzing venom wouldn't faze a Super Peak expert. That was the extent of their transcendent prowess.
"R-Right... It's a trick. A damn trick!"
Refusing to accept the reality before him, Dok So Gong shook his head and shouted.
But Sado Hwan paid no heed to Dok So Gong's self-delusion. He continued calmly, as if stating the obvious.
"Dok So Gong, you have just committed three more crimes."
Sado Hwan's voice was heavy, as if rising from the depths of the earth itself, lingering around Dok So Gong's ears without dissipating anywhere.
It was a verdict.
"First. You insulted me, Sado Hwan, the legitimate heir of the Sado Family."
Sado Hwan extended his arm.
It was a natural motion, as if the paralyzing venom had never affected him from the start.
His body was like a water bucket brimming full of internal energy. No room for foreign substances like corrosive lung toxin or paralyzing venom to infiltrate—it was packed too tightly.
Moreover, the heart method he cultivated wasn't some ordinary technique.
Thus, he was virtually immune to most poisons.
As if to prove it, the pitch-black sword leisurely flew into Sado Hwan's hand and was gripped firmly.
"Second. You insulted the Divine Cult's Black Shadow Corps."
Fear surfaced on Dok So Gong's face.
'It's definitely a Flying Sword...!'
A realm beyond his wildest reach. For someone like him, merely at the early Peak stage, no scheme would ever let him win against such an opponent.
'Damn it! I thought the rumors were exaggerated!'
Sado Hwan was famous enough that even Dok So Gong, who hadn't spent much time in the Divine Cult, knew of him.
The legitimate heir of one of the Mad Demon Six Families, possessing transcendent martial prowess, and even said to be a master of poetry, calligraphy, and painting.
Dok So Gong had thought it impossible. Talent was finite, after all.
Rumors were always exaggerated, so he dismissed those about Sado Hwan as lies.
He believed the Divine Cult's rankings meant nothing in real combat.
But the rumors weren't exaggerated at all.
If anything, they were understated.
There had never been any talk of Sado Hwan being a Super Peak master.
'I have to run...!'
He had lost his right arm—vital to a warrior—but it was nothing compared to his actual life.
'At least grab the Black Feather Fan!'
Whether he knew Dok So Gong's thoughts or not, Sado Hwan continued indifferently.
"And above all, finally, you dared to besmirch the Divine Cult's supreme sovereign with that filthy three-inch tongue of yours. The name Heavenly Demon is sacred—far beyond what a worm like you could ever tarnish."
"Damn it!"
Dok So Gong pivoted on his toes. His foot scraped the ground, kicking up dust, and at the same time, he pulled something from his bosom and hurled it forcefully at the earth.
Boom!
A thick gray mist erupted instantly from the thrown object, spreading rapidly.
Dok So Gong kicked off the ground. His lightness skill allowed him to move freely even through jungles teeming with venomous insects.
He glanced back. The area thirty-odd zhang behind him was now shrouded in fog, visibility zero.
Even Sado Hwan and the Black Shadow Corps were completely obscured.
'Poison mist made from southern barbarians' venomous bugs! It scrambles even my master's senses—surely I can escape—'
But in the next instant.
Crunch!
A dizzying pain from his back made Dok So Gong look down.
The pitch-black sword protruded from his body.
'How...!'
It was only natural.
Sense of qi was a human perception.
Pa Cheon, now a sword, was free from such human limitations. Piercing through fog to find its target was child's play.
And it didn't end there.
"Huh...?"
The embedded sword pulsed. Regaining his senses, Dok So Gong realized all his internal energy was being sucked into the blade.
With terrifying speed, like desert sand craving water.
"U-Uwaaaah!"
Dok So Gong's massive scream sent birds nesting in the trees fluttering into flight.
He reached to yank out the sword, but it only widened the channel draining his energy.
Pa Cheon devoured his internal energy even more voraciously.
"Huuuuh—"
Before long, Dok So Gong lost the power of speech. Only wind-like gasps escaped his lips.
And finally.
His head lolled like a mummy shriveled dry.
Pa Cheon spun around and leisurely returned to Sado Hwan.
Gripping the sword, Sado Hwan vanished into the mist with the Black Shadow Corps, reappearing moments later.
In his hand was a black fan.
"Dok So Gong is dead. Succumbed to his own poison and withered away."
Sado Hwan clicked his tongue softly.
The Black Shadow Corps members stood frozen like statues, blinking in stunned silence.
Their faces mixed awe, shock, and shame.
"Listen up, Black Shadow Corps."
Sado Hwan declared.
"Were you drunk on the empty title of the Divine Cult's elite force?"
"......"
"What elite force? Dok So Gong was merely Peak realm. Do you think it makes sense that all of you—first-rate experts—got done in?"
The Black Shadow Corps members hung their heads in remorse.
Of course, the Black Feather Fan Dok So Gong had tried to steal was an extraordinary treasure, which was why they were immobilized.
Had they prepared in advance, they wouldn't have been so helpless.
'That's why I didn't warn you ahead of time.'
Only Sado Hwan and Sa Wol knew about Dok So Gong and the Black Feather Fan. Losing a treasure to theft was embarrassing, so restricting information was natural.
It allowed for this dramatic staging.
"Never forget today's humiliation. Hone yourselves with gritted teeth. And ensure I never have to draw my sword again."
Normally, they'd shout "Yes!" in unison, but paralyzed as they were, they responded with fierce gazes.
"Regroup as the paralysis wears off. Sever Dok So Gong's head and box it up."
With that, Sado Hwan headed back toward the carriage.
Sa Wol stood in his path.
She was rigid, but not from the paralyzing venom.
'It's real.'
The cave incident hadn't convinced her fully. She thought maybe threads or strange sorcery made it look that way.
But that doubt had just evaporated.
Even setting aside the Flying Sword, his immunity to corrosive lung toxin and paralyzing venom alone hinted at his realm.
'He's been hiding his power all this time.'
Nothing else explained it.
That's why Sa Wol was frozen—not knowing what to do.
As he brushed past her, Sado Hwan halted.
"Good attempt."
"What do you mean?"
"Daring to test me."
"?!"
Sa Wol's eyes widened in surprise.
"But there won't be a second time."
"Why?"
Sa Wol shot back at Sado Hwan.
"Why have you been hiding your power until now?"
"Don't delude yourself, Sa Wol. Questions are the right of the strong, not the weak."
Sado Hwan's tone was icy. Sa Wol ground her teeth at the contempt and indifference in his eyes.
"I'll remember that."
"Good."
Sado Hwan patted her shoulder.
"We'll have much to discuss later. Save the rest for then."
With that, Sado Hwan entered the carriage.
His retreating figure filled Sa Wol's wide eyes.
"Haa."
Her sigh carried a sense of utter bewilderment.
I exhaled the breath I'd been holding. At the same time, I released the internal energy I'd been circulating nonstop.
My rigid body went limp.
"I did it."
Goosebumps prickled across my skin. An insane catharsis washed over me.
The acting had succeeded.
I'd perfectly fooled enemies gunning for my life and subordinates harboring doubts.
"Hngh...!"
I barely held back the tears welling up.
The urge to confront those who'd mocked me at auditions had vanished.
No need or reason for it anymore.
I'd proven myself.
Here, on the knife-edge between life and death, I'd seized survival through my own will and skill.
Through acting, no less.
I felt alive more intensely than ever.
The world was different, the environment too. But one thing was clear: I was here, alive, and performing.
'In your terms, yeah. I had an enlightenment.'
'Anyway, this proves it. We can do this, Pa Cheon.'
Pa Cheon twitched its tip in agreement.
"Whew."
I exhaled, shaking off the emotions. The afterglow of emotion lingered, but I couldn't indulge.
This was the merciless Murim Return world. Complacency was fatal anywhere, anytime.
Time for cold analysis of my gains.
First: Pa Cheon.
'How much internal energy did you gather?'
Pa Cheon's energy was rechargeable. To unleash sword qi, it inevitably needed to absorb human internal energy.
Not just any "internal energy," either. From Mo Yong Su and Dok So Gong, it seemed to draw something more fundamental.
'Innate qi or something.'
It sucked even the primal energy everyone possessed, leaving them desiccated.
Taboo since the "Heavenly Demon Blood Oath," but for survival, any straw would do.
Still repulsive by modern ethics, so I limited targets: villains like Dok So Gong.
Which included those after my life.
'What?'
'I see. Try drawing sword qi.'
Pa Cheon unleashed sword qi. Unlike the clear blue before, this was murky, almost dingy gray.
'Righteous pure, demonic turbid.'
True to Murim Return's lore.
'Grateful for sword qi capability, but... better not flaunt it.'
Not like we projected it casually. And locals weren't idiots—they might piece it together eventually.
Public enemy of murim overnight. Even in the Divine Cult.
Hence declaring "Dok So Gong died to his own poison."
Setting that aside, second gain.
'Black Feather Fan.'
A black fan from a spirit beast's feather. Likely inspired by Zhuge Liang's "White Feather Fan" from Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
Fortunately, no internal energy required. In Murim Return, its user was a scholar without a drop of qi.
'That "just poison" took down the entire Black Shadow Corps. Don't underestimate it.'
Murim stories often belittled poison users. Probably because it relied on external aids over body cultivation.
Same in Murim Return.
Even after being paralyzed by it moments ago.
Dok So Gong's subtle inferiority complex likely stemmed from such disdain.
'Anyway, half the acting's in the atmosphere, right?'
'...That was getting swept up in the moment. Point is, atmosphere sells it.'
'This fan's perfect for crafting that vibe.'
Plus the poison pouches looted from Dok So Gong—full set. He'd even labeled them with names and effects, helpfully.
Pa Cheon kept waggling in disbelief.
But verifying its power didn't take long.
Pretending to Be the Heavenly Demon