Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: The Day of the Living Corpses
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Han Ibi was blocking Seong Chun-don's attacks more through desperate flailing than any real skill, all while bawling his eyes out inwardly.
Then it hit him.
The horrifying truth that Seong Chun-don wasn't even using his full power...
He was just like a predator toying with its prey.
Thoroughly... utterly toying with Han Ibi, who was already suffering from double exhaustion.
But everything in the world has an end.
Seong Chun-don subtly shifted the wooden sword that had been thrusting toward Han Ibi's lower body, suddenly aiming it straight at his throat.
Finally, the fatal blow.
'If this hits, it's over!'
He knew the timing was a bit off, but Han Ibi had to do something.
He hurriedly shifted into a defensive stance, protecting his neck with his wooden sword.
Crack!
An even louder sound.
It was inevitable... because Han Ibi's sword had flown a full three zhang away.
Thud crack!
The wooden sword hitting the ground made a huge noise.
Thump thump thump thump thump!
Han Ibi's heart pounded louder than a freight train.
At the same time, he felt an uncontrollable urge surging within.
The sinister energy of the Crimson Dream Great Law, ready to explode at any moment!
Han Ibi felt like roaring out a lion's bellow.
Seong Chun-don's wooden sword was coming down again! That dreadful stick!
That's when he glanced at the back of his hand.
The veins turning pitch black... a geometric pattern resembling a lotus flower.
Han Ibi's heart sank.
The Crimson Dream Great Law was about to activate.
That absolutely could not happen!
In that instant, as his rationality froze, the Qingcheng Simplified Subduing Sword straight punch flashed into Han Ibi's mind.
The no-weapon technique even young initiates at Qingcheng learned!
That punch shot toward Seong Chun-don's face at tremendous speed.
After dodging the wooden sword by a hair's breadth—like the thickness of a perilla leaf.
It was the moment his training with Bok Yeon-hwa paid off.
Splat!
The sound of a watermelon bursting.
Incredibly, Han Ibi's simple straight punch had landed squarely on Seong Chun-don's philtrum!
A gushing nosebleed was just icing on the cake!
Seong Chun-don lost his balance and flew backward like a scene from a movie.
To Han Ibi's eyes, it looked like slow motion.
'Can't miss this chance.'
He unleashed his lightness skill, swiftly pursuing Seong Chun-don as he soared like a severed kite string.
Before the man even hit the ground, Han Ibi started pummeling his torso.
Like a combo move from a fighting game...
The moment he crashed into the dirt, Han Ibi leaped in and began kicking wildly.
Face, nose, chest—nothing was off-limits...
'Wait... is this... cheating?'
Seong Chun-don, covered in blood, already seemed unconscious.
Han Ibi flinched and halted his attack.
Then he realized.
After an assault like that, the spar should have been stopped long ago.
Whether declaring victory or disqualifying for fouls...
But astonishingly, no one stepped in.
Han Ibi looked up and scanned the surroundings.
Something was off.
Their expressions... were utterly bizarre.
Like mannequins, or perhaps lunatics...
Every hero's eyes were as glazed and vacant as the eyes of dried pollack on an old fish stall.
Including those in the VIP seats!
Even more flustered, Han Ibi activated his Eagle's Eye Technique and looked around.
Then he spotted the change.
Something like an unidentified gourd bottle sat on the VIP table.
Astonishingly, identical gourds lay scattered at the heroes' feet, lids open everywhere.
Han Ibi tilted his head in confusion for a moment.
But he quickly realized what was happening.
Cold sweat poured down his spine.
'Damn it all!'
Han Ibi cursed inwardly.
'That weird guy wasn't a dream after all.'
He'd changed his plan upon realizing Han Ibi knew about the congratulatory pouch poison dispersal, for whatever reason.
With a ridiculously simple method...
The heroes, fixated on the spar, hadn't noticed a thing.
That's when it happened.
A whoosh cut through the air.
Han Ibi whipped around in shock to see a wooden sword flying at him.
He swiftly executed Bagua Steps, barely shaking it off.
Then he realized.
"W-Wait, Senior Brother, weren't you knocked out?"
Yes.
The attacker was none other than Seong Chun-don.
But something was wrong...
"Gaaargh!"
Seong Chun-don shrieked spasmodically.
His blood-smeared face from Han Ibi's blow made for a gruesome sight.
His whole body trembled as he spoke.
"You demon! You demon! How dare you charge at your elder!"
Then he screamed again.
"Die! Die! Die! Die!"
This was practically a meltdown.
Han Ibi froze in bewilderment at the absurd scene.
But as Seong Chun-don swung his wooden sword with frightening speed, his senses snapped back.
"Eek! Senior Brother, snap out of it!"
Han Ibi leaped away, dodging the attack as he shouted.
But Seong Chun-don's eyes showed all reason was gone.
It felt like watching a zombie flick!
In a flash of wit, Han Ibi dashed back and forth in erratic zigzags.
The zombie-fied Seong Chun-don hesitated, unsure where to go.
Han Ibi suddenly lunged, delivering a powerful dropkick to his side.
Crash!
Seong Chun-don smashed into a nearby table, shattering it with a huge racket.
Only then did a memory flash through Han Ibi's mind!
As expected, reading in text and experiencing it firsthand were worlds apart.
'How could I forget such a crucial plot point... I must've dozed off while reading.'
He focused his mind.
A faint, eerie piping sound—like the sobs of a widow in blue.
It matched the description from Dream of the Ant Snake.
That piping was turning the heroes violent.
And the substance in those gourds wasn't ordinary poison.
The combo of the drug and the piping performance was behind it all.
Suddenly, Han Ibi noticed the once-deathly silent sparring arena had erupted into market-square chaos.
The source was easy to spot.
Qingcheng Sect disciples...
'N-No way...'
Han Ibi swallowed hard.
...They were tangled up, fighting each other.
He glanced at the VIP seats.
'Oh no...'
Yes.
Hong Gu-geum and Mount Hua Sect's Chae Geuk-ik were trading punches.
Hong Gu-geum, missing teeth and looking like a grandfather with his hoho laugh, was spewing blood while throwing fists.
Chae Geuk-ik wasn't much better—his hair torn out by Hong Gu-geum, resembling a thug with wild, bloodshot eyes as he kicked away.
Han Ibi thought.
'At least... no one brought weapons. Thank goodness...'
Nam Cheol-hong grappled Lee Sin-song by the collar, while Gi Baek-eom strangled Baek Beom-sang.
Seating allies together had backfired spectacularly.
The VIPs were the same.
No matter master-disciple, sect brothers, or friends.
They attacked each other like blood-sworn enemies, fists and kicks flying with murderous intent.
Han Ibi thought it a miracle they weren't literally eating each other like in a zombie movie.
Thus, the thousand-year noble house of Qingcheng Mountain devolved into a hell of demons tearing at each other.
Just then, the piping swelled into an even more intense melody.
That's when it happened.
"Gaaargh! You demon scum, how dare you at an elder!"
That all-too-familiar grating voice.
Seong Chun-don again, whom he'd thought knocked out once more.
And this time, he had backup.
Zombified folks and victors from prior scuffles!
"Elder Seo!"
Yes.
There was Seo Ui-jae, today's famously affable host, charging with milky white eyes rolling.
Seo Ui-jae raised both arms and lunged at Han Ibi.
Han Ibi had no choice but to evade with Bagua Steps.
"Aigoo, Elder Seo! Get a grip!"
Of course, no chance he'd hear.
Seo Ui-jae, leading Seong Chun-don and other Qingcheng disciples, drooling as they mobbed Han Ibi.
'What a messed-up situation...'
Grumbling, Han Ibi could only unleash lightness skill to flee.
In the process, he pieced together some facts.
Those poisoned by the strange drug lost their reason and turned dazed.
Dropping to the level of beasts in an instant.
That much was tolerable.
But the moment the piping started, everything changed.
The poisoned went berserk, turning violent.
Yet, lacking sanity, they couldn't unleash their full prowess as jianghu masters.
If they could, Han Ibi would've been caught and torn apart by these living zombies in no time...
But the scary part wasn't that.
Even if they held back, Han Ibi couldn't just wail on them freely.
Nor could he let himself get pummeled...
'Please... snap out of it, everyone.'
Then a sudden question struck him.
'Huh! But why am I fine?'
No time for such thoughts, though.
His noise had drawn more—Seong Chun-don, Seo Ui-jae, and a horde of Qingcheng disciples closing in with frenzied howls.
'Ugh, what a sight...'
No clever solution came to mind.
That's when it happened.
Boom boom!
"Urk!"
A deafening roar threatened to burst his eardrums.
Then...
Kaboom!
Another earth-shaking blast erupted.
Black smoke billowed from spots across Qingcheng Mountain.
Dozens lay collapsed amid the smoke, drenched in blood.
Like a CNN terror scene.
The rampaging Qingcheng disciples halted in momentary confusion.
Han Ibi used the gap to think, but no good ideas surfaced.
'This is bad... mountains upon mountains of trouble. In the original, they didn't even use explosives...'
Then voices rang out.
"Huh? Why's he fine? Why isn't this guy poisoned?"
Startled, Han Ibi turned toward the sound.
A black-masked figure stood there—the trademark villain from wuxia novels.
Tall and skinny.
A short, pudgy masked man shook his head.
"How should I know?"
"Doesn't Senior Brother know everything?"
"Does it matter to our job?"
"His presence changes nothing."
"Good. Take him out."
"Understood."
With that reply, the masked man's form blurred for an instant.
As Han Ibi blinked, wondering if his eyes deceived him—
The man was suddenly right in front of him.
Shocked, Han Ibi unleashed lightness skill, kicking off to leap skyward.
Head down, gliding through the air like a rhythmic gymnast, attempting to elegantly vault over the masked man.
But...
The masked man stomped the ground and shot up, thrusting out his hand.
He grabbed Han Ibi's right sleeve, yanking him down to slam into the ground.
Thud crash!
Han Ibi lost balance mid-air and tumbled across the dirt.
'Ugh, wh-what the...'
As he staggered to rise—
The masked man, kneeling, aimed a knee strike at his jaw.
(To be continued)