I Was a Madman Too (5)
The Law Enforcement Messengers, their reason already gone, charged like wounded tigers. Cheong Myeong sprang at them as well, a streak of falling starfire hurtling straight toward their line.
“You son of a bitch!”
Jeokil’s eyes rolled back as he brought his sword down. Black demonic energy bloomed from the tip of his blade like a rolling cloud.
Kyaaaaaaaak!
At the same moment, his sword wailed like a vengeful ghost. It was a ghastly shriek that made the hair stand up on end and sent a shudder through the soul itself. It was as if the resentment Jeokil carried in his chest had been given a voice through the sword in his hand.
And yet Cheong Myeong’s face showed not even the slightest tremor as he met him. As though every lazy, mocking word he had thrown out only moments ago had been a lie, he went to meet the charging blade with a face utterly stripped of feeling.
Kwaaaaaaaang!
As the swords clashed in midair, a deafening blast exploded outward, flinging black demonic energy and red sword aura in all directions.
Grrrrrk! Grrrrrrrrrk!
Blade pressed against blade. The sword aimed for the other man’s throat writhed like a snake, as if it would slit flesh the instant even the smallest opening appeared.
“Kraaaaaaaat!”
Jeokil bared his killing intent and shoved against Cheong Myeong’s sword. In that instant, Cheong Myeong did not resist the oncoming force. Instead he tilted his blade and let Jeokil’s sword slide away.
Kagagak!
The sword scraped along the edge of Amhyang Maehwageom, throwing off red sparks.
The moment Jeokil’s blade touched his sword, Cheong Myeong twisted his wrist and flicked the weapon away with terrifying speed, then swung Amhyang Maehwageom. The distance between them was so short their shoulders might have brushed. Within that narrow span, dozens of split sword afterimages poured over Jeokil’s entire body.
Kwadeuk! Kwadeuk!
The sword light flying at him buried itself in Jeokil’s body without mercy. But his flesh was so unnaturally tough that even Amhyang Maehwageom, a sword that could pierce steel with ease, left nothing more than wounds like torn cloth.
“Useless!”
Jeokil hurled up his left hand. Demonic energy swallowed his palm and reshaped it into something hideous. The lengthened black aura at his fingertips looked like the claws of some beast or demon.
Kwaaaaa!
His hand tore through the air and came at Cheong Myeong. And just as naturally, Cheong Myeong raised his own left hand.
His fingertips trembled as if splitting apart, then dozens of palm shadows blossomed and erected a red wall between him and Jeokil.
It was one of the Mount Hua Sect’s proudest hand techniques, the flower-wall form of Plum Blossom Hand Strike. Jeokil’s claw-like hand raked at the perfect wall of palm shadows, driven by the same principle of flowing softness.
The long, clawed demonic energy scraped across it.
“Kgh!”
For an instant, surprise flickered in Jeokil’s eyes.
He had tried to smash through the wall in one breath, but it wasn’t easy. The moment his claws dug into it, instead of a solid barrier, his hand was wrapped in a bizarre softness that felt endlessly yielding.
The force he had expected to tear apart only shoved back as much as it was cut, and the instant his hand passed through, the wall filled the gap again as though it had never moved at all.
It was the ultimate form of soft skill, so complete it even embraced the sharpness hidden within the demonic energy.
The Law Enforcement Messenger, unable to hide his shock, tried to swing again, only for the wall of force that had filled his vision to suddenly split open and reveal Cheong Myeong’s sword flying toward him.
The speed was monstrous.
“What—?”
The strike seemed ready to pierce straight through the center of his throat, and Jeokil jerked in terror, twisting his body aside.
Slash!
The blade skimmed across the right side of his neck, carving a blood-red line across his throat.
“Kgh!”
White-hot pain flared.
But there was no time to groan. The sword that had sliced past his throat halted in midair as though time itself had stopped, then changed direction and came roaring toward his head.
Jeokil opened his mouth in shock and swung his hand with force.
Kaaaaaang!
The demonic hand and the red sword aura collided. Jeokil immediately drove his right hand forward in a ferocious thrust of his own. It looked as if Cheong Myeong’s body would be pierced any second.
But in that instant, Cheong Myeong drew his sword back just enough and stabbed like lightning toward Jeokil’s throat. Their blades were now pointed straight at each other.
Cheong Myeong aimed for Jeokil’s throat. Jeokil aimed for Cheong Myeong’s chest. Faced with a situation that allowed neither retreat nor hesitation, Jeokil grit his teeth and tightened his grip on the sword.
He’s bluffing…
And then he saw it: the demon-like smile that flickered across Cheong Myeong’s face.
Something indescribably cold slid through Jeokil’s mind in that instant.
A cultist never feared an enemy. A cultist never feared death. But he was still human. It was one thing to live and die on a battlefield; it was another to offer up his throat while driving a blade into the other man’s chest. That was not a choice made easily.
At last, instinct for survival as a man overwhelmed his hatred for the unbeliever, even if only for a heartbeat.
Jeokil reflexively twisted his sword and knocked away Cheong Myeong’s stabbing blade.
But then—
Pararararak!
With the sound of butterfly wings beating furiously, Cheong Myeong’s sword shattered into pieces. It was as though he had known all along that Jeokil would fail to drive his blade through to the end and would instead turn against his sword.
Jeokil’s wildly swung blade sliced uselessly through the empty space where Amhyang Maehwageom had been, and at the same time, the sword aura Cheong Myeong had scattered into thousands of plum blossoms pierced Jeokil’s whole body.
Kak! Kak!
Jeokil flailed in a frantic spasm, but it was impossible to block every sword aura that came at him, dancing as countless blossoms. Red wounds began to bloom across his body.
Yet what shocked him was not this dazzling swordsmanship. It was Cheong Myeong himself.
What in the world…?
The killing intent pouring from Cheong Myeong was so vicious it made Jeokil’s entire body go numb.
The cultists, Jeokil included, were men of the demonic path. They were beasts trapped on barren land. To practice martial arts, they had no choice but to make one another their opponents. For that reason they were familiar with hatred, familiar with killing intent, familiar with malice. More so than anyone else in the world.
And yet the killing intent spilling from that brat of the orthodox sect was enough to freeze even Jeokil in place.
Even if one were to forge a person from blood, Jeokil doubted they could give off such a savage killing intent and malice. So how, in this false world, could some orthodox brat who had lived only in peace radiate such a murderous aura?
“Y-yo—!”
Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!
Sword aura came surging endlessly, as though it intended to leave not even a single part of his body untouched.
The pain was so intense it felt as if his mind had been turned white. And yet even in that agony, Jeokil’s consciousness did not break. It was not hatred for his enemy that kept him anchored.
It was those cold eyes.
Beyond the brilliantly scattering plum-blossom sword aura, the occasional glimpse of Cheong Myeong’s frigid gaze kept his reason pinned in place like glue.
He could tell. If he lost focus for even a heartbeat, that bastard’s blade would cut his throat open without hesitation.
A clear feeling rooted itself deep inside his chest. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he could not deny it at all.
This was fear.
Am I feeling the kind of fear I’d feel in front of a bishop—from this Central Plains bastard? Me?
Jeokil’s face twisted miserably just as the thought struck him.
During that fleeting exchange, two more Law Enforcement Messengers who had rushed over arrived at the battlefield. Having passed Jeokil by, they charged straight at Cheong Myeong and swung their demonic-energy-wrapped arms.
“Dieeeeee!”
Jeokil’s eyes bulged.
“Sto—!”
He wanted to shout for them to stop, but Cheong Myeong was already moving twice as fast.
Thunk!
Cheong Myeong stamped the ground and lunged toward the hand falling over his head instead. His accelerated body slipped beneath the black hand by a hair’s breadth, and in the same motion he crashed completely into the Law Enforcement Messenger’s chest.
Kuuuuung!
Cheong Myeong drove his shoulder into the man’s chest with absolute mercilessness. The moment that rotating shoulder struck home, the center of the messenger’s chest caved inward. Blood gushed from his mouth like a waterfall.
But that attack was only beginning. Before the body he had just struck could even rebound away, Cheong Myeong spun like a top. Amhyang Maehwageom cut cleanly through the messenger as he flew backward.
Paaaat!
His chest split wide open. It was a wound so severe it didn’t merely slice muscle—it exposed bone. The messenger could not even scream before being hurled backward.
“You—!”
The other Law Enforcement Messenger, who had watched his fellow cultivator be ruined in an instant, flooded his eyes with streams of blood-red light. He slashed both hands toward Cheong Myeong in a frenzy that bordered on madness.
Kyaaaaaaaak!
Demonic energy screeching like a ghost’s wail tore through the air toward Cheong Myeong. The dozens of black lines carved wildly through space looked more than enough to shred him to pieces.
At that moment, Cheong Myeong drove his sword straight into the middle of the incoming demonic energy.
Parararak! Parararararak!
The faint tremor at the tip of his sword gradually intensified until it became a great wave that shoved the rushing demonic energy left and right. Before long, a huge gap opened in the web of dark force.
What?
There was no time for the messenger to be shocked. Cheong Myeong shot through the opening at once. The startled messenger tried to pull back swiftly, but in that very instant a terrifying thrust burst from Cheong Myeong’s hand.
Paaaat!
When the messenger’s eyes caught sight of the pale blur, Cheong Myeong’s sword was already right before his throat. It was a speed impossible to believe even while seeing it with his own eyes.
But the Law Enforcement Messenger was not someone to be underestimated. At the critical moment, he twisted his body swiftly and evaded Cheong Myeong’s thrust.
Scrape.
Cheong Myeong’s sword aura skimmed a razor-thin line across the skin of the man’s neck. Even in that brief instant, the killing edge was chillingly sharp. The messenger shuddered and tried to fling his body backward again.
Swaaaeak!
But Cheong Myeong, who had thrust his sword forward, swiftly folded his arm in and surged ahead even faster than the blade he had just sent out.
He reached out with a speed that made even lightning seem sluggish and seized the messenger by the head.
Kwadeuk!
Cheong Myeong clamped down so hard it seemed his fingers might punch straight through the skull and dragged the messenger toward him.
In the messenger’s eyes, Cheong Myeong’s cruel smile was reflected in perfect clarity. Understanding exactly what this bastard intended to do, the messenger’s face was overtaken by a fear he could not conceal.
“N-no—”
Kwagak!
The blade the messenger had just avoided now touched the neck of the man being dragged toward Cheong Myeong. Cheong Myeong whirled his body with brutal force.
Saaaaaaaaak!
A sound so crisp it was almost cheerful, yet so horrifying it made the skin crawl, spread through the air.
Thunk!
The messenger collapsed as if slammed into the ground, and blood poured in streams from the neck that had been severed.
Jeokil lowered his gaze with a half-empty expression. Blood from the decapitated messenger’s body was soaking his robes hot and heavy.
Then, as if waking from a dream, he lifted his head.
There stood Cheong Myeong, sword lowered, the severed head held in his left hand.
Plop.
Cheong Myeong tossed the head at Jeokil’s feet.
“You’re already making that face? That’s a problem.”
“…….”
“This is just the beginning.”
The madness in his eyes was more vicious than any cultist’s. Cheong Myeong, charging at Jeokil once more, was smiling like a devil.