Chapter 52
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Ominous Clouds Gather
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He stared down at the message written in blood, unable to forget the words.
"To think they took out only the leaders and slipped away so casually... It seems someone who knows our Demonic Cult's inner workings inside out has started meddling in our affairs."
"Th-then, could it be? Shadow?"
"If it wasn't him, they couldn't have pinpointed our base so quickly or assassinated the branch chief so easily."
"But didn't you say he was struck down by the Vice Leader's Black Death Palm and died?"
"He must have stumbled upon some incredible fortune, or maybe one of his disciples has emerged. In any case, hurry back to the Nanyang Sub-branch."
"Understood."
The news that the officials tasked with establishing a sub-branch in the capital had been murdered by a mysterious figure spread like wildfire through the Demonic Cult via express messenger birds.
The Demonic Cult was thrown into chaos.
With high-ranking members assassinated, construction of the sub-branch had ground to a halt.
Yet no one stepped up to replace them; everyone kept silent about it.
And for good reason—the suspected culprit was none other than Shadow.
Heading to a position targeted by Shadow was no different from marching to one's death.
Shadow was an unparalleled master produced by the Demonic Cult itself, a legendary assassin.
For decades, he had tormented the cult from the shadows.
The main headquarters had dispatched countless assassination squads to eliminate him, but he would slaughter them all and vanish without a trace.
That all changed when he attempted to assassinate the Heavenly Demon and was struck by the Heavenly Demon's Black Death Palm, forcing him into retirement. Had that not happened, the Demonic Cult could never have expanded to its current power.
Now rumors swirled that Shadow had suddenly resumed his activities.
The Heavenly Demon himself couldn't help but feel perplexed.
"Impossible... He survived my Black Death Palm?"
"There's no other explanation but that he encountered some monumental stroke of luck, Vice Leader."
"Hmph... I'm the only one who can deal with him, but with my current situation preventing me from moving... Of all the troublesome timing, he picks now to resurface."
"What about advancing into the capital, Vice Leader?"
"Hm, that's not the priority right now—put it on hold for the moment. We have something far more important to attend to."
"Yes, Vice Leader."
And so, the Demonic Cult's push into the capital was temporarily shelved.
Two months had passed since training began.
The cadets preparing for the tournament had finished absorbing the spirit elixirs bestowed by the emperor, building muscle, honing their qi sense, and sharpening their reflexes.
Tae-seong now guided them into the next phase: one-on-one sparring.
Nine cadets sat in a circle around Tae-seong, their eyes filled with utmost seriousness.
They were genuinely in awe of him.
They never dreamed he could elevate them so dramatically in such a short time.
They had clung to him out of sheer desperation, grasping at straws. Yet they had received tremendous benefits.
Having experienced such rapid growth, they couldn't help but follow Tae-seong wholeheartedly.
Of course, the emperor's elixirs had helped immensely, but it was Tae-seong who had facilitated their absorption.
And now, watching him instruct each cadet individually left them stunned.
His own skills were impressive enough, but the way he systematically pinpointed their flaws and offered precise fixes was on another level entirely.
This was worlds apart from the third-rate instructors at dojos who spouted vague nonsense and just demanded payment.
As a thrust came at him, Tae-seong deflected it with minimal movement, then swept the opponent's supporting leg with a low kick, toppling their stance.
In the moment they staggered, he grabbed the front of their robe and effortlessly tossed them skyward with a one-handed throw, slamming them into the ground.
Booom!
"Kuhk!"
Tae-seong caught their body before impact, sparing them serious injury.
But Yoo Si-bin, who had no idea why he was suddenly lying there, wore a dazed expression like someone just woken from sleep.
Tae-seong gripped his left arm, wrapped his right leg around it, twisted sharply, and brought a pounding fist down toward his face.
Of course, the punch halted just shy of his nose, but the wind pressure alone forced Yoo Si-bin to squeeze his eyes shut.
Tae-seong lightly tapped his forehead and said,
Tap—
"Your attacks are too telegraphed with big motions. Thrusting deep like that at close range exposes your feet blatantly. Next time, keep your movements tighter. If the strike misses, flow straight into the next technique."
"Th-thank you."
Next up was Pyo Gi-myeong.
But he barely managed a few attack forms before Tae-seong's simple hand motion sent his sword clattering to the ground.
Suddenly realizing Tae-seong's foot was hovering right before his nose, a chill ran down his spine.
"Get your head in the game?"
"S-sorry."
"I'm disappointed in all of you. If no one lands a proper attack on me today, we'll spar nonstop until bedtime. Keep that in mind and come at me harder! Understood?"
"Yes!"
The initial spars included some leniency. But Tae-seong gradually ramped up the intensity, and soon cries of pain echoed.
"Kahk!"
"Guhak!"
"Eekyakyakya!"
"Ow ow ow! I surrender! Mercy!"
"Next!"
—Puk!
"Urk~!"
"Don't whine like that! Next!"
"Whew~ He's a devil incarnate."
"Tell me about it."
As they said, Tae-seong had no choice but to become a devil.
He needed to perfect them in a short time, and he firmly believed only brutal, realistic sparring would do it.
When Tae-seong was absent, they sparred among themselves.
Through it, they felt their skills surging with every fiber of their being.
'This guy's always been this strong?'
'Huh? Look at this one?'
'Oh? When did he get this good?'
Rivalry ignited, spurring them to train even harder.
They endured Tae-seong and the two elders' grueling regimen right up to three days before the tournament.
It was a daily forced march.
They fainted from blows mid-spar, collapsed from exhaustion, screamed from muscle cramps.
Tae-seong let them rest, gave hands-on massages to ease muscle fatigue, balancing their stamina and recovery.
Having endured it all, their eyes burned with sheer determination.
But rather than overwork them right before the event, Tae-seong had them stick to light exercise for the final three days, then rest fully at the dorms to peak on tournament day.
Yet facing masters soon, they felt uneasy lounging and voluntarily pushed extra sessions.
Three days passed, and tournament day arrived.
Time to showcase three months of blood, sweat, and tears to the world.
Opening ceremony day.
An air of tension blanketed all of Sichuan Province.
Countless masters from righteous and unorthodox sects gathered to watch, eyeing each other warily in high alert.
No one could predict what the tournament's outcome might unleash.
And it wasn't just martial artists who cared.
Central Plains folk idolizing the martial world flooded into Sichuan to witness this clash of eras.
They clustered on high ground near the venue, awaiting the competitors.
After long anticipation, a massive procession finally crested the horizon.
Hundreds clad in pristine white robes.
The banner fluttering above them stole the breath of onlookers.
Dragon Academy.
The gathering place of the current generation's top prodigies in the righteous martial world.
Where heirs to great sects and clans trained to become future leaders.
That was the Dragon Academy.
For the righteous factions, it housed the vital talents who would lead the martial world tomorrow, so their escort was ironclad.
The Murim Alliance assigned its pinnacle force, the Righteous Guardian Corps.
Not numerous, but composed entirely of peak masters—the strongest righteous martial unit.
Leading them at the fore was a man.
Jang Man-cheol, chief instructor of the Dragon Academy and top of the Ten Sword Hawks.
Before joining the academy, he had commanded the Righteous Guardian Corps.
Rumors pegged his arts at the entry to transcendent realm.
In other words, he was a harmony realm master who had achieved return-to-youth.
Indeed, he looked remarkably young for his age.
A stark display of his realm: flower petals falling toward him sliced apart mid-air, one by one.
This signified pinnacle unity of sword and man, proof he could manifest sword qi through will alone.
Even among the crowds gathered since dawn, martial artists gulped dryly at the sight.
Some, seeing a harmony realm master for the first time, gazed in reverence.
From the opposite direction emerged another group in blue martial robes.
Their ominously whipping banner marked them as Demon Dragon Academy warriors.
Each bore a ferocious visage.
Scars everywhere was standard; finding an un-tattooed arm was rare.
They had an uncanny knack for making eyes avert politely just by meeting their gaze.
Their escort came from the Demonic Cult's elite.
None other than the Extermination Reaper Squad.
The cult's second-strongest force, with no records of ever appearing in the martial world.
Of course, they had operated there many times.
They simply left no evidence.
The Demonic Cult's strongest was the Asura Heaven-Shattering Corps.
But they existed solely to defend the cult, so unless the righteous eyed Heavenly Mountain, encounters were unlikely.
The righteous should count that a blessing.
Facing them meant that day was your last.
Leading the Extermination Reaper Squad and Demon Dragon Academy was Baek Si-ho.
A Demonic Cult native who had risen to command the Blood Wolf Corps.
During the Demonic-Righteous War, the Blood Wolf Corps fought on the front lines as the cult's main force, and Baek Si-ho had butchered countless righteous experts.
He was one of the Blood Ghosts who had once rivaled Jang Man-cheol in ferocity.