Chapter 39 - The Sword Demon Goes.
Moonlight bathed the world in silver on that night.
Two horses plodded along a road devoid of travelers.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
The rider on the lead horse sat ramrod straight, staring ahead like a statue, while the one on the trailing horse swayed precariously, as if he might tumble off at any moment.
"Ughhh…"
In the hush where even the crickets held their breath, the man's groan echoed lowly.
Jin Muhon, astride the front horse, seemed to show consideration by not urging the pace. After about half a shichen—roughly an hour—the lights of Unbong County had faded completely into the distance.
Then Jin Muhon gently tugged the reins, bringing his horse to a halt.
Neighhh!
As the lead horse stopped, the rear one followed suit. Jin Muhon turned his mount's head to face the warrior, whose body was wrapped head to toe in bandages. The man's posture was so slumped that his head nearly brushed the horse's back. By now, even his groans had ceased.
"Are you from the Blood Shadow Unit?"
Jin Muhon's heavy baritone crushed the night air.
The warrior shuddered, shoulders trembling as he struggled to straighten his torso.
"…Pardon?"
"I asked if you're from the Blood Shadow Unit. You brought word of the Red Flower's fall, so you must be."
"Ah, yes."
The warrior nodded immediately, his unfocused eyes wandering aimlessly.
"I don't remember my subordinates' names, but their faces? Those I know precisely. When the demonic sword takes hold, it's hard to tell friend from foe. You just want to kill everything around you."
A wind whistled between Jin Muhon and the warrior.
Though it was a sweltering summer night, the breeze that pierced the warrior's robes felt chillingly cold.
"What… do you… mean by that…?"
"That's why I drill their faces into my mind, over and over. Even when the demonic sword consumes me, I repeat: don't kill them, don't kill them."
"……"
Jin Muhon gazed up at the dark night sky, drawing out his words at length—a far cry from his usual taciturnity. It almost seemed like he was giving the warrior time to come up with an excuse.
"…Yes. We all respected a lord like that."
A quavering voice leaked from the warrior's lips.
Jin Muhon's icy gaze slowly descended. Those eyes had the power to pin even the warrior's wandering focus in place.
"You're not Blood Shadow. Iron Guard Unit, right?"
"Ah… I… After you left, lord, there were reassignments…"
The warrior's eyes flickered.
But his once-fading voice regained strength, and his tottering body began to steady itself. Jin Muhon watched silently for a moment before slowly opening his mouth, his words as sluggish as if prying apart reluctant lips.
"Did the Iron Guard Captain… betray us?"
"…!"
The moment the word betray passed Jin Muhon's lips,
the warrior—discarding all pretense of weakness—yanked a black pill from his bosom and swallowed it. He then swiftly struck key pressure points with crack crack sounds.
"Damn it! We're going t—!"
Shiiik!
Jin Muhon thrust his sword with crisp precision.
The Four Emperors Sword's arc split the night's darkness with a rip.
Spluuurt!
The warrior's head flew skyward, black blood erupting from the severed neck like fireworks. And soon after,
his body swelled grotesquely before bursting with a boom like a cannonball.
Shraaang! Shraaang! Shraaang! Shraaang!
Bone shards and flesh fragments sprayed in all directions.
The sizzling in midair suggested they were laced with poison.
"Tch."
Jin Muhon clicked his tongue lightly and extended his hand forward. At the same time, he unleashed the inner energy from his upper dantian.
Wuuuung!
The moonlight from above stretched long and thin.
The flapping of birds soaring overhead slowed to a crawl in an instant.
And the chunks of flesh hurtling toward Jin Muhon froze motionless in the air.
"……"
In this halted world, Jin Muhon stared impassively at the warrior exploding atop his horse, entrails spilling out. He channeled sword intent into a forward punch spanning one zhang.
Shiiik! Kraaack!
The world resumed its motion.
The airborne flesh reversed course, flying back toward the warrior.
Thud thud thud! Thud thud thud!
The once-human mass let out grotesque shrieks as it compacted into a spherical lump.
Jin Muhon eyed the crimson-black orb hovering above his saddle for a moment before lowering his hand.
Splat! Splaaash!
As the sword intent released, the black flesh and fluids poured from the horse's back to the ground.
Neighhh!!
The startled horse bolted into the darkness.
Jin Muhon watched it vanish without a word.
He had slain a former subordinate.
Yet no particular emotion stirred within him.
Click.
Sheathing the Four Emperors Sword, Jin Muhon turned his remaining horse toward Sichuan once more.
Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.
The Sword Demon headed for Sichuan.
Five days later.
In the grandest inn of Sichuan's capital city, two nuns and three Taoists gathered at one table. All were young and striking in appearance.
In Unbong County, such a group would have drawn stares, but the bustling capital saw so many passersby that no one paid them much mind.
A few men stole glances, drawn by the nuns' beauty despite their robes.
"You're truly amazing, Senior Brother Cheongpung! It feels like you handle all the Murim Alliance's tasks single-handedly."
Cheongpung, who had vanished from Yichang as Muheo's grand-disciple,
had now appeared in Sichuan.
"No such thing. Who am I to take on the Alliance's duties alone?"
Cheongpung shook his head with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"Come on! Aren't you being too modest? If the unparalleled Wudang Dragon of the later generation isn't impressive, what does that make us? Right, Junior Sister?"
The young Taoist flashed a playful grin at the nun.
The fair-faced nun covered her mouth, laughing as she played along.
"Hohoho! Qingcheng Sect's reputation is no less renowned."
"Oh! I didn't know you held our Qingcheng in such high regard, Junior Sister."
"Oh my! Of course."
"Hahaha!"
The Taoist and nun exchanged flattery amid peals of affected laughter.
They were later-generation disciples of the Nine Great Sects' Qingcheng and Ami, both based in Sichuan.
With their backgrounds, looks, and martial prowess, they could hold their heads high among peers anywhere. Together, the world held no fears—especially with Wudang's top later-generation talent, Cheongpung, in their midst.
Senior Brother Cheongpung… You've grown even more handsome since we last met.
Handsome yet tinged with subtle pessimism.
Cheongpung's unique aura even stirred the heart of the Ami nun.
But amid the admiring gazes, Cheongpung remained indifferent.
Sword Demon…
His fist clenched. No matter his efforts, the helplessness before the Sword Demon lingered.
He had honed his Taecheong Pungroe Sword solely to defeat him.
Of course, he held no delusion of surpassing the Sword Demon in a mere five years.
But a few exchanges—at least that much.
He had believed he could hold his own for a few bouts.
The world is vast… and high indeed.
Were it not for his mission, Cheongpung would have found even this merry time wasteful.
To topple the Sword Demon, he needed to swing his sword every waking hour.
"By the way, Senior Brother, what's the mission in Sichuan? The Sichuan Tang Clan, I presume?"
One Qingcheng Taoist glanced around warily, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
Two tigers cannot share one mountain.
Yet Sichuan hosted not only the Nine Great Sects' Qingcheng and Ami, but also one of the Five Great Families: the Tang Clan.
It was a powder keg, hushed for now but ready to explode at any moment.
"Classified."
Cheongpung shook his head gravely.
The Qingcheng Taoist, who had pried casually, scratched his head sheepishly.
"Haha! Fair enough. Alliance missions are always top secret. Anyway, best of luck! Senior Brother Cheongpung."
"Thanks."
As the mood grew awkward, the Ami nun intervened.
"Come now! It's been ages—why dwell on heavy topics? The food's getting cold. Let's eat first."
"Hahaha! Junior Sister's right! Senior Brother, business later—dig in. And take a drink from me."
"Mm…"
Cheongpung nodded, extending his cup.
The Qingcheng Taoist grinned and poured with a glug glug.
Creak. Creak. Creak.
Then, footsteps ascended the stairs.
Hm?
The worn wooden stairs groaned.
An ordinary sound, yet for some reason, Cheongpung's chest tightened.
He slowly set down his full cup.
"Huh? Why aren't you drinking?"
The others sensed nothing amiss.
Cheongpung rapidly expanded his senses.
Sound-based technique? No. The air itself feels heavier.
Creak. Creak. Creak.
The footsteps drew nearer.
"Senior Brother?"
Someone's coming!
Instinct screamed warning.
Cheongpung shot to his feet, whirling around. His right hand had already gripped his sword hilt at his waist.
"Whoa? What's wrong, Senior Brother?"
"An enemy?!"
The Qingcheng and Ami disciples hurriedly rose to follow.
The inn's other patrons paused their chopsticks, sensing something brewing.
Creak. Creak. Creak…
Jin Muhon halted upon reaching the floor, sweeping his gaze across the room.
For some reason, dozens of eyes fixed on him.
"……"
Jin Muhon silently scanned them in return.
"Gasp!"
"Ugh…"
Those meeting his eyes felt chills rack their bodies and hastily looked away.
Soon,
his gaze settled on the clustered Taoists and nuns.
Spotting Cheongpung among them, Jin Muhon grinned.
"……!"
"Wh-what…?"
"That man's face just…"
Cheongpung's eyes bulged.
The Qingcheng and Ami disciples trembled with inexplicable dread.
He had done nothing, yet terror gripped the crowd.
It was the natural aura of a predator.
And primal survival instinct.
Step. Step. Step.
Jin Muhon advanced.
Cheongpung swallowed hard as he approached.
Draw it. Draw it. Draw it.
He willed his hand to unsheathe.
But no matter how he screamed inwardly, his trembling grip refused to budge.
Step. Step. Step.
As Cheongpung hesitated,
Jin Muhon stood before him.
"……"
"……"
No one spoke first.
Cheongpung glared wide-eyed; Jin Muhon casually glanced at the laden table.
A clean cup even brimmed with liquor.
Glug.
Jin Muhon subtly raised his right hand.
Cheongpung's eyes widened further.
It's coming!
Cheongpung scrambled back to the wall in panic.
The others stared, baffled.
Jin Muhon pulled a money pouch from his bosom and asked in a weighty tone.
"Mind if I join?"
"……"
He lightly shook the pouch.
The jingle echoed through the inn.
"I've got plenty."
"……"
Cold sweat dripped from Cheongpung's jaw.