Better to Kill or Be Killed (5)
The sensation was like sticky rubber clutching at a sword. Only after forcing through that resistance did he feel the blunt, hard give of bone. Blood poured out so hot it seemed ready to burn, and then came the final cry, cut off at the neck and tangled with the sound of air whistling through a severed throat.
All of it dragged old sensations up from the depths of memory.
Not yet.
Crack!
Cheong Myeong’s sword crushed through half the Demonic Cultist’s neck in an instant.
Not yet!
Cheong Myeong swung faster, carving through the half-severed neck once more.
Kagagak!
No.
Grinding his teeth, he twisted his body. The tip of his sword traced a circle so perfect it looked almost illusory.
Swish—!
There was no sensation at his fingertips at all. The flawlessly swung sword cleanly cut through the Demonic Cultist’s neck and the arm he had raised at the same time. He felt nothing, and yet, paradoxically, a vast, deeply satisfying sense of completion lingered at his fingertips.
Cheong Myeong instinctively tightened his grip on the sword.
As if savoring the feeling that remained at his fingertips, and at the same time despising the very fact that it had been left there.
His lips pressed hard together as blood vessels bulged in his eyes.
Thud!
The sound of his foot stamping the ground rang out louder than usual. Inner power surged from the depths of his dantian like a waterfall.
The most refined energy in the world, painstakingly purified and purified again, burst forth and raced through his body into the sword.
Compared to the enormous amount of inner power that had filled him in his past life as the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, it was still pitifully small. But while its quantity was lacking, the quality of that power was beyond all comparison.
Wiiiiiiiiing!
Inner power spun furiously along the blade. The sword, thrust forward like a bolt of lightning, collided with an arm wrapped in demonic energy.
Riiip!
He did not even feel the act of cutting.
Cheong Myeong’s energy crushed the demonic energy apart. An arm whose demonic power could no longer function was less useful than a rotten plank of wood. As Cheong Myeong’s sword swept past, the Demonic Cultist’s arm split open with a sickening crack, spraying sticky blood everywhere.
Swish!
But Cheong Myeong did not give the Demonic Cultist even a moment to recover. He immediately swung again and severed the man’s neck in a single strike.
Splaaash!
Hot blood gushed from the severed end and covered Cheong Myeong’s face. The stench of blood was so thick it made his head swim, but even through that, his eyes remained ice-cold.
The change came at that very moment.
“Kill them!”
“Wipe them all out! Those dog-shit fanatics!”
The elite of the Black Ghost Guard, who had been frozen in place by fear, roared and charged after Cheong Myeong with all the momentum they could muster.
They were of the demonic path. More than the righteous sects, they believed in strength and naturally followed the strong.
And now there was a strong figure before them they could trust and follow.
Whether he belonged to the righteous or demonic path no longer mattered. The distinction between orthodoxy and heresy was meaningless in front of the Demonic Cult’s horde.
What mattered now was that an absolute powerhouse had appeared before them, someone who might turn this hellish situation around.
This was not a matter of calculation or reason. They sensed victory by instinct, and by that same instinct, they found the tide of battle shining behind Cheong Myeong’s back.
“Press them!”
“Ooooooooooh!”
The cool-headed elites of the Black Ghost Guard screamed themselves hoarse and, as one, surged forward like a wave crashing over the Demonic Cultists.
“You damned bastards…!”
The Demonic Cultists’ eyes rolled wide at the sight.
How dare those filthy unbelievers bare their teeth at the faithful and come at them like this? It was a scene their lofty faith simply could not accept.
To resist the cult was to resist that great being Himself.
Those who resisted were to be erased, their souls burned to ash.
Wasn’t that the first and highest doctrine?
“Kill every last one of those filthy unbelievers!”
The Demonic Cultists howled like beasts and swung their arms toward the Black Ghost Guard.
Clang!
Weapons snapped and flew into the air. Limbs were torn apart in every direction. The scene was still horrific beyond words, but it was clearly different from before. The Black Ghost Guard, once so drenched in fear that they had been shoved back one-sidedly, were now clinging on with ferocious stubbornness even as they were driven back.
“The neck! Aim for the neck!”
“Crush the head! The head!”
The Black Ghost Guard elites relentlessly targeted the Demonic Cultists’ heads.
The Demonic Cultists, who had been surrendering themselves to madness and driving the Black Ghost Guard back with burning fervor, could not ignore blows aimed at their heads. For the first time, they began blocking and dodging the incoming swords.
That alone was enough to change the atmosphere that had been so utterly chaotic a moment ago.
“You dog-shit Demonic Cult bastards! This is our land!”
The Black Ghost Guard shouted and attacked.
“Kkahahahat!”
The Demonic Cultists bared murderous intent from their eyes and smashed down on whoever stood before them. A blade flew into one upper arm, but the Cultist did not even blink; instead, he used the long, clawed hand of demonic energy growing from his arm to strike at the Black Ghost Guard elite’s face.
At the moment the elite involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut—
Swaaaack!
Along with the sound of air splitting, a white sword came flying in and severed the Demonic Cultist’s neck in a single stroke.
Still wearing that expression steeped in vulgar pleasure, the Cultist’s head spun through the air several times before thudding to the ground.
“Ah….”
The Black Ghost Guard elite, having narrowly escaped with his life, stared ahead in bewilderment. Beyond the collapsing body of the Demonic Cultist.
After flicking his sword to reclaim it, Cheong Myeong spat, almost as if he were chewing the words out.
“Don’t get careless, idiot.”
“……Pardon? Ah…. Yes!”
With that, Cheong Myeong turned again and moved forward. The Black Ghost Guard, eyes blazing wide, followed furiously after him.
“Hmm….”
Jang Il-so stroked his chin as though he found the whole thing amusing.
A strange pleasure and an equally strange displeasure both stirred within his eyes. Mixed with a thread of caution, they made his gaze glimmer with a wicked light.
“It really is interesting.”
However strong the demonic path might be, that did not mean they blindly obeyed the strong.
Especially not the Black Ghost Guard, whose loyalty to their lord was firmly established. Even if a stronger existence appeared, they would not easily change their hearts.
And yet those Black Ghost Guard elites were clearly following the Mount Hua Divine Dragon.
An absurd level of influence.
What made Jang Il-so even more incredulous was the presence of the Black Ghost Fort’s great patron here. No matter that his arm had been severed, he was still the great patron. And yet, in front of his superior, he was following a righteous sect warrior’s words without question?
This is beyond managing.
Jang Il-so chuckled softly to himself.
No matter how he looked at it, that Mount Hua Divine Dragon had chosen the wrong place to be born. If he had taken root in the demonic path instead of the righteous one, he would have become an enormous figure. And if that had happened, he would have been several times more dangerous to Jang Il-so than he was now.
“But hmm… this does rather ruin my dignity.”
Jang Il-so hummed the words as he strolled forward. One of the Demonic Cultists spotted him and charged, red light pouring from his eyes.
At once, Jang Il-so’s red lips curved into a faint smile.
Swaaaack!
A demonic hand tore through the air, reaching for him. Jang Il-so calmly raised a hand and casually brushed the incoming strike aside.
Thwoom!
“Khahk!”
He easily deflected another flailing demonic hand, then suddenly drove his own hand like a bolt of lightning toward the Demonic Cultist’s throat.
Crack!
Jang Il-so’s slender fingers, almost like those of a carefully groomed woman, bored viciously into the Demonic Cultist’s neck.
“Kuhk!”
The Cultist’s mouth flew open. But that alone was apparently not enough to break his fighting spirit; he thrashed and swung his hand wildly.
“Hmm….”
Jang Il-so flicked the hand away as if swatting aside a child’s toy and narrowed his eyes.
“Attacking the neck alone isn’t enough, I see… If even tearing the larynx apart won’t put them down, then hmm….”
Crack! Crackcrack!
The hand buried in the Demonic Cultist’s neck tore forward, ripping through flesh as it went.
“Grrr… Gghhhaaaah….”
Even the Cultist, who seemed not to know pain, could not endure the terrible agony and let out a pained groan. It was likely a desperate scream, but with his airway already half torn open, he would not be able to shout properly anyway.
“This should do it.”
Crunch!
Jang Il-so’s hand met the neck bones and crushed them mercilessly. The Demonic Cultist shuddered as if seized by a chill, then stuck out his tongue, tilted his head, and died.
“Hmm.”
Jang Il-so regarded him for a moment, then frowned as though he had grabbed filth. He tossed the corpse aside and flicked the blood from his hand.
“The head, or the cervical vertebrae. How troublesome. And besides….”
A look of discomfort crossed Jang Il-so’s pale face.
Normally, the instant he laid his hand there, the neck should have been severed.
But reality was different. To crush that neck bone, he had been forced to bore into the neck and tear it apart, paying the trouble of that labor.
Does that mean my inner power isn’t taking hold well?
He finally understood exactly what Black Gold Fort’s great patron had meant. If even these lowly rabble could resist his inner power, then it was easy to imagine what kind of miracles that so-called Bishop could work without seeing him.
“This is rather….”
Jang Il-so’s gaze shifted to Cheong Myeong’s back, where he was running rampant. Just in time to see Cheong Myeong cut down another Demonic Cultist’s neck in a single blow, Jang Il-so let out a crooked smile.
“Unfair, isn’t it?”
Perhaps bringing those fellows here had been the right choice after all.
“Tsk.”
Still, he clicked his tongue at Cheong Myeong with clear dissatisfaction. It was fine for him to lead from the front, but at this rate, wasn’t he just wasting energy?
It seemed the Mount Hua Divine Dragon had forgotten who he should truly be facing.
Or perhaps… he was simply that kind of man to begin with.
Of course it’s the latter.
Waiting for that bastard to become an idiot would be faster than waiting for a waterfall to rise into the sky.
“I respect your taste, but you’re my man right now, so running wild however you please is a little troublesome.”
Jang Il-so smiled thinly and glanced back.
“You all heard that, didn’t you?”
Instead of a reply, only low breaths answered him. Though they were called the Red Dogs, these were not mad hounds that ran about without restraint. On the contrary, they were hunting dogs who attacked Jang Il-so’s enemies and tore out their throats with perfect discipline.
“Target the cervical vertebrae, or the head. If you crush either one, they’re not all that different from ordinary people.”
Jang Il-so’s gaze, fixed on the side where Cheong Myeong was fighting, held a cold, eerie light.
“Watching would be entertaining, but leaving the guest to do all the work would be rude. For all that, I am quite close to a gentleman. So….”
He gave a light tilt of his chin toward the front.
“Go bite them.”
No sooner had the command fallen than the Red Dogs guarding Jang Il-so’s back shot forward like streaks of crimson light.
Watching the Red Dogs racing ahead with their red-and-white robes fluttering, Jang Il-so slowly took a step forward.
“I’m curious.”
Wicked light churned ceaselessly in his eyes.
“If these bastards are already this much of a mess, then just what kind of monster is that so-called Bishop?”
His eyes moved beyond the battlefield and toward the half-collapsed city of Hangzhou. It almost seemed as though the most sinister aura was seeping up from the depths of that city.
“It’s chilling, really.”
Crackle.
The rings on his fingers grated harshly against one another.
Slowly brushing his lips with the tips of his fingers, Jang Il-so finally strode forward with murder in his eyes.