Chapter 81: The Fist King Meets the Mad God 2
The Fist King Meets the Mad God 2
Episode 81: The Fist King Meets the Mad God 2
Mad God smelled blood.
It was a scent that reminded him of his oath—an oath to dedicate his entire life to eradicating the Demonic Path. Mad God was a man who kept his promises. He would slaughter the Demonic Path without question, then descend into hell to tear apart every last demon gathered there. To him, the boundary between life and death held little meaning.
The only reason he had sealed himself away was to avoid killing those who were not of the Demonic Path.
Now, the seal was broken.
Mad God watched the young man fighting alone and felt satisfied. Dan Woo-sung fought with unbridled ferocity, shattering limbs with single strikes.
As Mad God stepped onto the battlefield, he spoke.
"Good. This is why I still live."
His figure blurred as he seized a Golden Masked assassin's leg with his bare hand and crushed it, then wielded the screaming assassin like a weapon.
Thwack! Crunch! Smash!
He swung the flailing assassin like a club, smashing through the battlefield until the body stopped moving. Then, he slammed it headfirst into the ground, reducing the skull to pulp. To Mad God, the corpse weighed no more than a pair of chopsticks. Soon, he held two bodies in each hand and waded deeper into the slaughter.
When a scene becomes too horrifying, people either lose their minds or perceive it as something absurdly comical—so surreal that it blurs the line between nightmare and reality, tipping the atmosphere into madness.
Mad God was a demon born of the Demonic Path. If not for his hatred of demons, he would be no different from them. If the White Path had a moral boundary, he stood precariously upon it.
That was why he insisted on wearing gray—the color of death, the overlap of black and white, the hue of his very identity.
He was truly a man of ashes.
While Dan Woo-sung clashed with two swordsmen wielding Blade Immunity, the rest of the forces were annihilated in an instant by Mad God.
Wiping his blood-soaked hands on his robes, Mad God observed Dan Woo-sung.
His expression was grim.
Under normal circumstances, he would have intervened immediately, but the young man's fighting was worth watching.
After a moment, Mad God spoke.
"Drop the Judge's Brush. No need to aim for the eyes."
Dan Woo-sung sheathed his weapons and faced the two swordsmen bare-handed.
Mad God's eyes dissected every movement, every intention behind Dan Woo-sung's strikes. A skilled fighter, he thought. His offense and defense far surpassed the swordsmen's. However, the Sword Demon's subordinates both possessed Blade Immunity and fought in perfect sync, prolonging the battle.
Mad God eased Dan Woo-sung's burden.
"Fight freely. With me here, no one will interfere."
Dan Woo-sung's eyebrows shot up as he pushed the White Lightning Ten Stages technique to its tenth stage. Explosions of energy rippled across his body, his hair standing on end as if burning with Extreme Yang's fury.
Of course, Dan Woo-sung trusted Mad God.
Feeling the young man's resolve, Mad God uttered a single word.
"Good."
As Dan Woo-sung unleashed his martial arts, the swordsmen found themselves dragged around before they could even execute their techniques.
BOOM!
Dan Woo-sung seized the leg of one swordsman mid-air, yanked him back, and uppercutted his jaw. His movements were flawless, as if his skills had reached their peak.
Still gripping the swordsman, Dan Woo-sung used him as a shield against the other's attacks.
Clang! Crash! Thud!
The swordsman's body twisted, slammed into the ground, and obstructed his comrade's strikes—chaos unfolded as steel clashed against flesh.
Watching this, Mad God shed his grim expression and laughed aloud.
"Hahaha... KHAHAHAHA—!"
The eerie man clapped his bloodstained hands, cheering Dan Woo-sung on.
At one point, Dan Woo-sung seized one swordsman's arm and channeled lightning energy into it while twisting the other's wrist to do the same.
The swordsmen couldn't retaliate—their bodies convulsed under the lightning's assault. With Mad God present, Dan Woo-sung poured out his energy without restraint.
Explosions of power erupted violently from his body.
CRACKLE—ZZZZT!
The two swordsmen trembled violently, resisting the lightning's onslaught.
Mad God locked eyes with Dan Woo-sung.
"Burn them alive. Blade Immunity means nothing to fire."
Dan Woo-sung's hands glowed white with lightning. The swordsmen's screams intensified.
"GAAAAAH—!"
As they struggled with their last strength, Mad God glared and scolded Dan Woo-sung.
"If you want to burn them, drown yourself in lightning first. Your body is far stronger than theirs. Why hesitate when I'm here?"
Dan Woo-sung, now also wreathed in killing intent, met Mad God's gaze. His words stabbed like daggers.
"Drown yourself in lightning first."
Dan Woo-sung pushed his energy further, becoming lightning itself. And these were his sworn enemies—the Twelve Demon Blades. The root of Extreme Yang's power was rage. As his body transformed, his robes tore apart, scattering in the storm.
The Twelve Demon Blades' screams grew even louder.
"KHHHAAAAAA—!"
Mad God tilted his head slightly, savoring the sound like fine music.
"Ah... Screams. Magnificent."
The domain of the White Lightning Ten Stages' tenth level was vast to begin with. When that entire space filled with Dan Woo-sung's lightning, his eyes turned pure white. He had reached a state worthy of being called "perfection."
Now, even Mad God's body trembled under the lightning's force. He did not evade his junior's desperate outburst—instead, he relished the pain alongside him.
The two swordsmen's eyes rolled back as white foam spilled from their mouths. Yet, they couldn't collapse—Dan Woo-sung held them in place, preventing them from being blown away by the storm.
Mad God narrowed his eyes and spoke.
"Don't stop. If you've reached your limit, stake your life on it. Only those who push past their limits grow stronger. Tear apart their Blade Immunity. Burn it away. Blade Immunity is just skin—burn everything beneath it. Reduce every last drop of blood to ash."
Dan Woo-sung's face distorted as if underwater, his skin rippling from the lightning. He clenched his eyes shut, then opened them with gritted teeth—and detonated the energy.
In that instant, Mad God raised his sleeve defensively, sliding back as he blocked the shockwave.
He glanced between Dan Woo-sung and the Sword Demon's subordinates, as if curious about what had just happened.
Dan Woo-sung's face twisted savagely, his eyes blazing with white lightning, while the bodies of those with Blade Immunity were torn apart.
Goosebumps rose on Mad God's spine.
Where else in the world could one witness such a sight?
Even Mad God had never seen anything like it.
To his eyes, it was as if the Thunder God himself had descended.
The swordsmen's bodies fractured under millions of vibrations, splitting again and again, colliding and crumbling into dust. The blood that seeped from their wounds evaporated the moment lightning touched it.
Mad God inhaled deeply, exhaling a trembling breath.
His chest felt lighter.
It was as if several of his own Qi Deviations had been cleansed away—more satisfying than killing with his own hands.
This junior was a welcome sight.
Dan Woo-sung trembled before kneeling to regulate his breathing, eyes closed in deep meditation.
"Huuu..."
Mad God, too, sank into silence, sitting cross-legged and closing his eyes. He cleared his mind, waiting for his junior to stabilize his energy.
His senses expanded, gradually dominating the area—probing for any approaching threats with his mind's eye.
When Dan Woo-sung finally opened his eyes, Mad God spoke.
"Now circulate your energy fully. Imagine stamping your presence across the expanded domain. Leave your mark everywhere before concluding."
Understanding perfectly, Dan Woo-sung shifted into a meditative posture and began regulating his energy amidst the carnage.
And so, surrounded by corpses, the two sat cross-legged as night fell.
Dan Woo-sung entered a trance, only awakening after two full hours. This hadn't been ordinary meditation—it felt as though he had wandered the realm of Divine Martial Artists before returning.
Mad God opened his eyes and looked at him.
"Finished?"
"Yes."
Mad God unfolded his legs and lay flat, gazing at the night sky. Dan Woo-sung also relaxed, surveying their surroundings.
Resting his head on his arms, Mad God asked,
"Are you the missing Fist King's disciple?"
"I am."
"You're better than him."
Counting the stars, Mad God murmured,
"Where is the Fist King now? Is he that star over there? Shining near my wife and children?"
Dan Woo-sung lay back as well, looking up.
"No. He's still fighting somewhere. Even in death."
"Then perhaps I'll meet him one day."
"Yes."
Mad God watched the sky and said,
"Now you are the Fist King. Bear the weight of that title."
"I will."
"How fares the Demonic Path?"
"Scattered, stirring up trouble."
"Like rats?"
"Yes."
"I thought so. After their defeat at the Five Peaks War, I expected them to grow more despicable."
Pointing upward, Mad God continued,
"That lone star beside the Seven Stars—do you see it?"
"Yes."
"I named it the Heavenly Demon Star. My personal star. I never thought anyone could withstand the combined assault of the Three Gods. But the Demonic Path could. Because their power is stolen—accumulated from others. We Three Gods didn't fight just the Heavenly Demon—we fought all the weaklings he had consumed. The more powerful he became, the heavier my heart grew."
Extending his hand, Mad God pointed at the sky.
"Have all the dead become stars? I don't know. What joy is there in shining alone? I won't become a star."
Dan Woo-sung thought Mad God's calm voice sounded like weeping.
Then Mad God spoke again.
"Look at me. I am Heaven's will. During the Five Peaks War, the Demonic Path remembered me as a wild-haired, filthy man with an unshaven beard. Now, I bathe daily for days like this. My beard is trimmed, my robes prepared, and my hair has even turned black again. Who would recognize me now as the Mad God of the Five Peaks War?"
His laughter suddenly echoed under the quiet night sky.
"HAHAHAHA—!"
He was a man who lived madly—fully aware of his madness, yet enduring nonetheless.
Mad God laughed as he wept.
And so, the Fist King met the Mad God.