Again, Somehow. (1)
“Elder!”
At the frantic cry, the Wudang elder, Songhwa the True Man, turned a face gone as white as paper and asked, “How is the situation?”
“We’re being pushed back! No—” The disciple swallowed hard. “We can’t even hold them at the ankles!”
“Th-this…”
Cold sweat poured down Songhwa’s forehead.
Why here, of all places?
He could feel it. Even here, with a mountain between them, he could feel it.
The killing intent that stabbed through the body like thousands of needles. The thick, cloying demonic energy that tightened around the throat like a noose.
“E-Elder! We need a plan…!”
Songhwa’s fingertips trembled violently.
A plan? Of course they needed one. He was the one in charge of this place.
But what plan could there possibly be?
They had thrown in every last bit of force they had. To prepare for any contingency, they had even brought down thirty of Wudang’s First-class Disciples from the main sect.
Each and every one of them had entered the Taiji Wisdom Sword and were the pride of Wudang’s finest, capable of deploying the Yinyang Sword Formation. Yet even those elite fighters could not so much as slow the enemy’s feet for a moment; they were only scattering blood as they were crushed without mercy.
And if that was the case, what else could they possibly do?
“If this place falls, the rear will be completely exposed! Elder!”
“I know that!”
Songhwa barked in irritation.
This was the farthest rear guard of the assaulting force. If it collapsed, the retreat route for everyone who had entered the Great Mountain would be cut off. What would happen then was painfully obvious.
They had to stop it somehow. Even if it meant wagering their lives. No—more than that, they had to stop it even if it cost them far more than their lives.
But…
“What the hell am I supposed to do?”
Sweat began to stream down Songhwa’s face like rain.
The one approaching from the other side was not someone you could stop with resolve alone.
“How am I supposed to stop a cult leader!”
Songhwa shouted like a man in a frenzy and clutched the hilt of his sword.
He had never once heard anything about a cult leader coming here. If he had even suspected it might be possible, he would never have issued an order to defend the rear with fewer than fifty men.
And then it happened.
Kwaaaaaaa!
A massive surge of energy burst up from beyond the mountain.
The instant Songhwa saw that pitch-black, writhing current, he took five steps back before he even realized he was moving.
But there was no need to be ashamed. The other disciples around him had reacted the same way.
“Uuugh…”
That was a disaster. The kind of beings who served the Heavenly Demon at the closest range, beings too terrifying to even say aloud.
“How can there be ten of those things…?”
If the Heavenly Demon was something beyond the reach of human power, then those cult leaders were the real, tangible threat—hands ready to claw into your throat.
The whirlpool of black demonic energy lashed like a blade. A groan escaped Songhwa before he could stop it.
“Send for reinforcements!”
“Elder!”
“Now! Send for them immediately! There’s a cult leader here! We can’t hold out even one more jigok on our own! Hurry!”
“W-We already requested support! But…”
Songhwa knew what would come next even without hearing it.
There was no strength left in the main force that could be sent against a cult leader. Who in the world would launch an offensive while leaving behind enough power to take on one of those monsters?
“Aaaagh!”
At that moment, Songhwa clearly saw one of the Wudang disciples being torn apart.
It was destruction in the literal sense.
The disciple swept up in the black vortex of demonic energy was shredded into pieces, leaving not so much as a scrap of flesh behind, his remains scattered across the dark mountain.
“Ah…”
Songhwa’s jaw began to tremble on its own.
No matter how hard he tried to endure it, there was nothing to be done. What could humans possibly do against demons?
“Retreat…”
“Pardon?”
The word that should never have left Songhwa’s mouth came out anyway. He clapped both hands over it in shock.
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
If this place was breached, he could not even imagine how catastrophic the damage would be. If they hesitated to spend blood now, they would have to repay that saved drop with thousands more.
He knew that. He knew it!
But…
“Blegh.”
A sudden wave of nausea made him lurch.
If they stayed here, they would die. Worse than that, everyone would die.
This was a meaningless death.
If their lives could change something, he would gladly offer them up. But what exactly could their lives change here?
Not even the dying! Not even those about to die! Not even the lives of those still alive! They couldn’t stop that demon’s feet for even a single instant!
Why should they keep enduring a sacrifice with no meaning at all?
“Aaaagh!”
And then another life vanished in vain.
Kwaaaaaa!
Even in the midst of the storming vortex of demonic energy, it was still advancing steadily toward this place. A slow but certain death was approaching him.
Fear flooded Songhwa’s eyes.
No matter that he was an elder of Wudang, his name was utterly insignificant before a cult leader. That demon likely couldn’t even tell the difference between him and the First-class Disciple he was facing now.
“Ugh…”
The hand gripping his sword shook on its own. He tried to draw it, but his Songmun Ancient Sword clung to its scabbard as if lacquered in place and refused to come free.
“...Ret…”
“Pardon?”
Songhwa bit his lip, his eyes bloodshot. The words he had just suppressed burst out again.
“R-Re…treat…”
And that was when it happened.
“Elder! Elder!”
Cheering cries rang out from behind him. When he turned, someone was racing toward them at full speed.
“W-what is it!”
“He’s here! That man has arrived!”
“That man?!”
No name came out. Not even a title.
But Songhwa immediately knew who his disciple meant by “that man.”
Was there any other answer?
In all the martial world, there was only one person who could drag hope out of those facing a cult leader.
“Whew. Still terrifying every time I see it.”
Songhwa whipped his head around.
At some point, a man had crouched beside him and was staring across the mountain.
Hair tied up carelessly, black martial robes, and over them a deep green outer robe embroidered in white… No, even setting all that aside, the overwhelming presence alone—so suffocating it made it hard to breathe—made it easy to guess who this was.
“D-Dark Sovereign…”
Dark Sovereign Dang Bo. The Grim Reaper of the Dang Clan, a man who sometimes inspired even his own allies with terror greater than the Demonic Cult itself.
He was staring toward the cult leader with a cold smile.
“You the one in charge here?”
Dang Bo asked without even turning his head, and Songhwa flinched. But only for a moment. Then Songhwa nodded vigorously.
“Y-Yes! Dark Sovereign!”
“Pull the kids back.”
“Pardon?”
When Songhwa stared blankly at him, Dang Bo narrowed his eyes.
“No, forget it. Even when a fool’s offered a way to live, he can’t take it.”
“...What does that mean?”
At that moment—
Step.
At the sound of footsteps behind him, Songhwa’s heart dropped.
Dark Sovereign Dang Bo was, of course, a master far beyond anything he could possibly hope to approach. He was the very incarnation of hidden weapons, hailed as the greatest expert the Dang Clan had produced in a hundred years.
But if the opponent was that cult leader, even the Dark Sovereign’s name would lose its luster. There was no way his disciple would have lit up like that just because Dang Bo had arrived.
Which meant…
Songhwa turned his trembling gaze. And then he stared blankly at the person approaching them.
Black martial robes. On the chest, a blood-red plum blossom pattern.
His hair was tied back, but loose strands fell in disarray, making him look even more wild. Yet what grabbed Songhwa’s attention was not the clothing.
It was the eyes.
Those cold eyes visible through the strands of hair hanging down over his forehead.
Songhwa murmured under his breath as if in pain, “Plum Blossom Sword Saint…”
Yes. Only this man. Only this one name could be shouted at that devil of a cult leader.
Step. Step.
Plum Blossom Sword Saint Cheong Myeong stopped in front of him and spoke.
“What’s the situation?”
At the icy voice, Songhwa snapped back to his senses and answered quickly.
“W-We’re delaying the cult leader, but we can’t hold him off on our own, Plum Blossom Sword Saint!”
At that, a snort of wind escaped Dang Bo’s mouth.
“Delay my ass. What a load of crap.”
“...Pardon?”
In that instant, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint seized Songhwa by the collar and yanked him close.
Songhwa froze in place, not even able to scream.
“You.”
“...”
“You’re the Wudang elder?”
Songhwa nodded in a hurry.
“Y-Yes, I am…”
“And what the hell are you doing here?”
“...Pardon?”
A terrifying killing intent seeped out of Cheong Myeong’s eyes.
“Your disciples are dying over there. So why the hell are you standing in the rear and just watching, you bastard?”
“...”
Songhwa went rigid, unable even to breathe.
It was as if a furious predator had sunk its teeth into his throat and was growling. If he moved even a little, those sharp fangs would slice through his veins and tear out his airway. Fear crushed his breath.
“If you don’t have a plan, then get out there and fight with them. Are your own miserable little life and pride so precious that you’re gonna use your disciples as bait and sit back here watching?”
“I-I…”
“You worthless shit!”
Thwack!
Cheong Myeong slapped Songhwa across the jaw.
Songhwa collapsed with a cry, unable to lift his head, his whole body trembling faintly. Cheong Myeong cast him one disdainful glance, as if he were nothing more than an insect, then turned and strode forward.
Dang Bo clicked his tongue.
“You’re alive because of those kids. If they hadn’t been in danger, this wouldn’t have ended with just that.”
“...”
After mocking Songhwa, Dang Bo ran after Cheong Myeong, who had already gone ahead.
“Hey, brother! Let’s go together. What’s got you in such a hurry?”
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint and the Dark Sovereign.
Without hesitation, the two of them advanced toward the surging demonic energy.
As if sensing their presence, the black energy began to convulse even more violently. Yet even as they watched it, neither man hesitated; instead, both of them smiled crookedly.
“Just one?”
“Looks like they brought about twenty or so, but…”
“Then it’s one.”
“...If you say so.”
Shrrrkk.
Cheong Myeong slowly drew the Plum Blossom Sword.
Tension spread through his body, raising gooseflesh along his skin. The cult leader’s power was so intense it could make even his flesh warn him.
“...Heavenly Slaughter?”
“Looks more like Mad Soul, maybe?”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s dead either way.”
Cheong Myeong let the sword hang low and spoke with a lazy indifference.
“When you killed the last one, were you unconscious for two weeks?”
“Don’t talk shit. It was exactly one week!”
“Same difference. This time, one wrong move and you’ll drop dead. So stop interfering and go sit your ass in the back.”
“I suppose you’ve forgotten that I fixed your arm when it nearly fell off? I’m not exactly eager to watch you lose your head this time, either.”
Cheong Myeong gave a faint laugh.
As the distance closed, strength gathered in the hand that gripped the Plum Blossom Sword.
“Then there’s no helping it.”
Cheong Myeong bared his teeth.
“Let’s cut off that bastard’s head first, then keep talking.”
Dang Bo, who had drawn a throwing knife from inside his sleeve, laughed out loud and nodded.
“Now that, I can agree with.”
At the same time, the two of them kicked off the ground.
They plunged into the storm of demonic energy like two streaks of black and blue meteors.
That day, another cult leader met his end at the entrance of the Great Mountain.