Chapter 106
Chapter 106
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 106
Chapter Title: Lucky Bastard
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A deathly silence fell over the room.
Everyone's eyes turned to Heuk Do-san. Every single one of them wore an expression of utter bewilderment at this absurd situation.
Heuk Do-san was just as dumbfounded. That bat-like bastard Yeom Jin-sang had called out his name and leaped in, but who would've thought he'd drag Hyeon-gak into it.
'Should've waited a bit longer.'
Even in the midst of it, Yeom Jin-sang was racking his brains. One wrong move, and they might think he'd brought Heuk Do-san here. He put on a look of sheer terror and said,
"Th-that's him!"
Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!
Somewhere, bells rang out wildly, signaling the intruder's presence. It must've been the guys at the downstairs entrance who had rung the alarm after hearing the window shatter.
Right on cue, the drumbeats and cheers from the training grounds came to an abrupt halt. At the same time, the thunder of hooves began shaking the earth.
The Shadow Ghost Armor Corps had stopped training and was rushing toward the Heavenly Demon Palace in unison.
Clang-clang-ching!
Seop Dae-gang's subordinates swiftly drew their dragon-head long blades and blocked the way. Their auras were no joke; in an instant, a fierce killing intent dominated the hall.
Despite the sudden appearance of the intruder, Seop Dae-gang remained calm. He scanned Heuk Do-san up and down for a long moment before his gaze lingered briefly on the iron staff hanging at his waist.
"Long time no see."
'He really thinks I'm Hyeon-gak.'
Heuk Do-san chuckled inwardly.
The Shaolin Staff stands exactly up to the eyebrows when planted on the ground.
That's why it's called the Shaolin Staff.
The five-cheok iron staff was certainly easy to mistake for one.
And the Shaolin Staff was the signature weapon that had earned Hyeon-gak the nickname Staff King.
Heuk Do-san neither denied nor confirmed it.
"Long time no see, Seop Dae-gang."
"I'll let the changed appearance slide, but your body's gotten incredibly sturdy. Been through some brutal training, have you?"
How should he describe those three years spent in a pitch-black snow mountain cave, eating crickets and living among corpses?
"It was hell."
"You stirred up quite the storm at Tongman Fortress. Word is you helped the Demonic Cultists slaughter over a hundred martial artists who were gunning for Jang Bo-do."
"Got a problem with that?"
Seop Dae-gang narrowed his eyes.
There's a saying that Shaolin staff arts begin with the Shaolin Staff and end with it.
During the Righteous-Demonic Great War, Hyeon-gak had been called Staff King by the Demonic Cultists for his mastery of the staff.
If such a man had achieved great success in the Hundred Eight Arhat Staff—the essence of the Shaolin Staff—then standing against Cheonjin Dojang wasn't impossible.
After all, it was the orthodox martial arts of Shaolin Temple, passed down for a thousand years.
But could a high monk who had trained his whole life reach such a realm in just a few years?
In the end, there was only one possibility.
"You've learned demonic arts."
The Ten Million Great Heaven Canon was the demonic art of demonic arts. Heuk Do-san didn't deny it this time either.
"Sharp eyes."
"You've been colluding with Demonic Cultists?"
"I do know a few weak, powerless folks."
"A Shaolin monk's turned into a demon."
"Yaksha and Asura may take the forms of vicious demon kings, but they are both among the Eight Legions that protect the Buddha's teachings."
"That mouth's still as lively as ever—definitely Hyeon-gak. Not surprised. I figured you'd go blind for some witch and betray the righteous martial world. What a blockhead."
"Well, that's how it goes."
"You're not really carrying Jang Bo-do, obviously?"
"You still believed that?"
"Did you kill Hong Gong-taek?"
"Yes."
From Heuk Do-san's perspective, it wasn't a lie at all. The only issue was Seop Dae-gang mistaking him for Hyeon-gak.
"Why'd you kill him?"
"Because he deserved to die. You too."
Seop Dae-gang's expression turned ice-cold.
Heuk Do-san could see his mind racing. But as long as he thought he was Hyeon-gak, there was nothing he could figure out.
Heuk Do-san smirked and said,
"I've answered your questions sincerely, so mind if I ask a few now?"
"You want the location of Geumo Island?"
"Quick on the uptake. I like it."
"Even if I told you, what good would it do if you can't get out of here?"
"That's my problem."
"And if I refuse?"
"Means you don't have the confidence to capture me?"
"I'll capture you, so no need to tell you the location."
Seop Dae-gang nodded.
At his command, three warriors shot forward like gusts of wind. Three blades sliced through the air with devastating force.
But Heuk Do-san was already gone. The blades cleaved empty air and struck the floor.
Boom!
The sturdy wooden floor exploded with a roar. In the blink of an eye, Heuk Do-san had leaped into the air and unleashed a barrage of punches like a storm as he plummeted.
Crack-crack-bam!
The warriors, each struck in the chest, flank, and abdomen, crashed through the wall and flew outside.
A cold wind howled through the gaping hole. It had all happened in a single strike, a mere instant.
Yeom Jin-sang and his crew, who had already witnessed Heuk Do-san's skills at the Blood Sea Gang, weren't all that shocked.
But Seop Dae-gang's face stiffened. The Hyeon-gak he knew wasn't this powerful.
Even accounting for a demonic art boosting his strength explosively, no one could grow this much in such a short time.
'What demonic art did he learn...!'
By then, the sound of warriors guarding the Heavenly Ascension Tower's entrance stomping up to the floor could be heard. The Shadow Ghost Armor Corps would arrive soon.
Heuk Do-san said,
"Yeom Jin-sang, guard the stairs."
"Wh-why me?"
"You want me to do it?"
"If I side with you here, I'll be enemies with the Righteous Alliance. You know what that means?"
"No antidote for you?"
"Damn it!"
Yeom Jin-sang ground his teeth and rushed off. He began hacking away at the stairwell supports with his signature weapon, the mountain-splitting axe.
After three or four swings, the stairs collapsed with a crash.
It wouldn't stop the Shadow Ghost Armor Corps entirely, but it could reduce their numbers pouring in at once.
That much, even Yeom Jin-sang could handle.
"What are you idiots doing? Grab those tables and bookshelves and block it off. Anything heavy—plug up the hole!"
Yeom Jin-sang bellowed at his men.
His subordinates dragged over enormous tables to block the downstairs exit, then piled bookshelves and chairs on top.
Heuk Do-san faced off against Seop Dae-gang.
"Really glad to see you, Seop Dae-gang."
"......?"
Bang!
With a light kick off the floor, Heuk Do-san shot toward Seop Dae-gang in an instant.
Seop Dae-gang, who was prepared, drew his dragon-head long sword like lightning and swung it with bisecting force.
The technique, which split the opponent's torso the moment the sword was drawn, was called Falling Flower Cuts the Moon. It meant the trajectory of petals falling in the wind cleaving the moon reflected in a pond—the essence of Plum Blossom Sword Art.
The terrifyingly fast sword trajectory precisely sliced through the intruder's torso. But it was merely an afterimage. Like the moon in the pond, he'd only cut an illusion.
'Damn it!'
The moment he realized something was wrong, a heavy impact hit his lower abdomen.
Splack!
An immense weight crashed down. Seop Dae-gang felt his hair stand on end as he unleashed Flying Leaf Weightless.
A petal blown by the wind has no weight. No weight means no impact. In that instant, his body became a single petal.
But he couldn't withstand the pressure pouring from the enemy's fist and flew back five or six paces before barely managing to land.
Boom!
Heuk Do-san was baffled.
He'd clearly landed a solid palm strike, but oddly, it didn't feel heavy on the return.
Moreover, the guy had flown like a leaf swept by a broom and landed safely after five or six paces.
"Neat trick you've picked up."
Heuk Do-san chuckled and shot forward again.
Seop Dae-gang, his underestimation gone, counterattacked. Realizing he couldn't match raw power, he bet everything on swift swordplay from the start.
In the blink of an eye, sword strikes from his hand sliced the air into dozens of threads. It looked like a shower of flower petals.
Flower Rain on East Mountain—the supreme technique of Plum Blossom Sword Art that shredded the opponent in an instant.
Heuk Do-san, charging head-on, was blocked by Seop Dae-gang's dense sword net. Charging through recklessly would turn him into mincemeat.
No matter how invincible the Ten Million Great Heaven Canon was said to be, Huashan's Plum Blossom Sword Art—refined over centuries by geniuses—was no simple technique.
On top of that, there was an inexplicable murderous intent. Familiar yet more dangerous somehow.
'This isn't Plum Blossom Sword Art.'
The forms and stances followed Plum Blossom Sword Art, but the substantial energy filling them wasn't pure. Like a drop of ink falling into the clearest water jug.
'What the hell did this bastard learn?'
Dodging sword strikes with illusions while seeking an opening, Heuk Do-san swiftly pulled back.
In that moment, a trailing sword strike grazed his shoulder. A sharp pain stung as blood sprayed.
It wasn't a deep wound, but enough to make Seop Dae-gang misjudge.
"Hmph, that all you got?"
Seop Dae-gang said.
He unleashed even fiercer sword strikes at once.
Heuk Do-san retreated three steps in succession before suddenly drawing the iron staff—no, the Shaolin Staff—from his waist.
Seop Dae-gang's eyes turned ice-cold.
Heuk Do-san said,
"You're dead."
Bang.
Heuk Do-san shot leftward, scaling the wall. Seop Dae-gang twisted like lightning. Once more, dazzling and profound sword strikes unfolded from his hand.
Kicking off the wall, Heuk Do-san dove at him. The Shaolin Staff and dragon-head long sword clashed wildly in midair.
Clang! Clang-clang-clang-clang!
Plum Blossom Sword Art embodied the wonder of motion within stillness: elegant yet swift, with the power to split rocks hidden in that swiftness.
Its forms were flashy but not chaotic, its thrusts ever-changing yet majestic, its momentum gentle yet fierce as a tiger.
In contrast, Heuk Do-san's staff work with a single iron staff was based on battlefield War Sword.
Chaotic forms, erratic thrusts, improvised footwork scattered every which way.
But there was one thing Seop Dae-gang couldn't handle: storm-like momentum and mountain-shattering power.
Clang-clang-clang-clang!
With each burst like popping beans, Seop Dae-gang's dragon-head long sword bounced away like raindrops.
The formidable sword barrier had long shattered, the long sword wavered directionless. Footwork tangled, gaps opened everywhere.
Seop Dae-gang's pouring strikes could only desperately protect vitals from the lightning-fast iron staff.
And with every clash of sword and staff, this mysterious suction force—he felt his internal energy draining rapidly from his body.
The sword repelled, yet his qi surged into the enemy's staff like electric eels gripped barehanded.
'What is this...!'
The moment doubt arose, the fight was decided. Heuk Do-san's Shaolin Staff plunged into his wide-open abdomen.
Thud!
No time to unleash Flying Leaf Weightless—a lightning strike. Seop Dae-gang felt his organs churn as he flew over ten paces.
And he smashed right through the wall.
Boom! With the sound, Seop Dae-gang vanished through the hole.
'Damn, bad power control!'
Heuk Do-san rushed to the hole and poked his head out.
It seemed to be the rear garden, cut off from the front. Seop Dae-gang crashed through a pine tree beyond the high wall, splintering it, and plunged headfirst into the pond.
Splash! Water sprayed up.
His eyes met Seop Dae-gang's as the man belatedly came to his senses. He sprang up, clutched his stomach, limped, and fled into the darkness.
'Told you, one lucky bastard.'
The pine tree and pond water—meager as it was—had saved him.
Meanwhile, enemies who had reached the fourth floor were pounding the table Yeom Jin-sang's crew had barricaded, roaring fiercely.
From their momentum, part of the Shadow Ghost Armor Corps had joined. Sounds of downstairs windows breaking came too—some had gone outside to climb the walls.
"Damn it, what now?"
Yeom Jin-sang yelled shrilly.
"What else? Chase him to the end and grab him."
With that, Heuk Do-san casually leaped from the fifth-floor height toward the rear garden where Seop Dae-gang had vanished.
"You crazy bastard, who asked you!"
Suddenly left alone, Yeom Jin-sang's crew paled.
No one had the confidence to jump from five stories without breaking legs. Staying meant the Shadow Ghost Armor Corps would tear them apart.
"Boss, what do we do?"
One subordinate asked hoarsely.
"You three, play dead over there. You, clear the table."
"Huh?"
"Now!"
The subordinates scattered.
Three flopped down in suitable spots as ordered, while one rushed to the stairs and began shoving the table aside.
In the meantime, Yeom Jin-sang drew a dagger and slashed his own stomach without hesitation—thin cut for maximum bleeding.
He squeezed out blood, smearing it on his face and wrists, then sprawled on the floor.
At that instant, 'Boom!'—the table flew aside as dozens of heavily armored Shadow Ghost Armor Corps members poured in.
Another dozen smashed through front and side windows.
Yeom Jin-sang propped himself up with one hand, rising in a dying voice.
"H-he went... that way!"