Chapter 44 - Bastard
The moment Wi Mugeol's corpse hit the floor, blood bubbled up like it was boiling over.
Kieeeek!!
Red energy sprayed out from the blood like steam, rippling in the air. Hearing the wailing screams echoing from within it, Jin Muhon's chest churned. It felt as if hundreds of hands were wrapping around his legs, clawing at him—a foul stench of fresh blood and lingering resentment burrowing into his nostrils.
“You bastards...”
Jin Muhon ground his teeth heavily. Why was the Demonic Cult called the Demonic Cult? Because of the law of the jungle among the strong. They hesitated not at the sight of blood and valued the sword over words. At least, that's how Jin Muhon saw it.
Sure, there were demonic adepts whose hands were cruel, researching sorceries unimaginable to the orthodox sects. Jin Muhon had no qualms cutting down such scum, even within the Cult. But among the countless he'd slain, none had ever ground up their comrades for sustenance. Even in the demonic path, there were lines that must not be crossed. That was a realm no human should ever touch.
Kekekekeke!
Keekeeek!!
The souls of the dead demonic adepts swirled around Jin Muhon like a vortex. As if tormented by resentful spirits twisting their guts, they engulfed not just Wi Mugeol's corpse but the shattered stones and debris, gaining speed. Jin Muhon looked up.
The air grew heavy, like pus and blood seeping into his lungs. Yet gazing at the round moon—like peering at the sky from the bottom of a well—a quiet peace settled over him.
“That lord...”
Who could it be? As former vice leader, he couldn't recall anyone who'd plunged the Cult into such peril. Identity unknown, but one thing was clear. He was one who'd abandoned his humanity, walking the path of the non-human.
Though long dead, Jin Muhon knew demonic adepts who'd trod that path. And he'd even incorporated their insights into his family arts.
“Ma-seon.”
Was it thinking of Ma-seon? A fishy taste filled his mouth, igniting a thirst for blood. A side effect of overusing the Cloud Peak Demon Sea.
“Huuuuh—”
Jin Muhon exhaled long and deep, calming his boiling heart. Though harder now after seeing so much blood, he gradually subdued the demonic qi encroaching on his mind. Then, he circulated the pure energy of the Cloud Peak Mist Sea through his upper dantian, purifying the tainted areas.
Shwaaaaa—
In that instant, a refreshing aura spread around him. The ferocious vortex, fierce as a venomous dragon, rapidly lost its momentum.
“Hm?”
Jin Muhon opened his eyes in surprise and scanned his surroundings. The red energy that had churned to devour him moments ago was gone without a trace. In its place, dozens of orbs floated gently around him.
“......”
Beings that purified foul energy and glowed white. Dazzling white orbs. They were the souls of the demonic adepts, cleansed by the Cloud Peak Mist Sea. Jin Muhon stared at them, speechless for a moment. Their origins might be filthy and cruel, but in this instant, they were as pure and clear as children. In a low voice infused with pure energy, he murmured calmly.
“Attain Buddhahood.”
Shwaaaaa—
As if understanding his words, the sparkling white souls soared into the black sky. Long—oh so long—Jin Muhon watched until their light was absorbed by the night sky and vanished. They said the twinkling stars were souls. Was it truly so?
'Perhaps even I...'
A trivial thought crossed his mind. Jin Muhon chuckled wryly and lowered his head.
“A bastard like me?”
If the Sword Demon didn't go to hell, who would? Confirming Wi Mugeol's mangled corpse, Jin Muhon turned away without regret.
“......!”
He flinched, raising his sword. Right behind him, a red shadow flickered.
“Blood Light Demon Sword.”
The evil soul of the one-armed mad demon held its ground without stirring. Jin Muhon narrowed his eyes and sheathed the Sword of the Four Emperors.
“You not attaining Buddhahood, you bastard?”
At that, the shadow rippled noticeably. Jin Muhon stared at the Blood Light Demon Sword in disbelief.
“Is this fucker... laughing?”
Kekeke.
The Blood Light Demon Sword scattered like smoke—shhh. Jin Muhon gazed at its afterimage, feeling absurd. Was the bastard really laughing? Did an evil soul retain emotions beyond grudge and vengeance? Who knew.
Clunk.
Then, a noise came from a short distance away. Turning, he saw a boy of five or six staring at him with wide, curious eyes.
“Ah, no!”
Soon, a mother with blood streaming from her head clutched the child, trembling. Jin Muhon glanced around. True to a prestigious clan, dozens endured in the darkness, stifling their groans.
“My lord! This child is innocent! Please, spare at least him!”
“......”
The mother wept blood tears, wailing. Soon, other survivors pinned under debris begged for the child's life.
“Take our heads, my lord, but spare the poor children!”
“We don't know what sin our Sichuan Tang Clan committed against you, but punish us! The children are blameless!”
Jin Muhon summoned his Blood Mist. Red fog enveloped his body. The survivors shuddered in terror.
Those who'd seen the Sword Demon's face. Normally, all would die. They should die...
'The hall was dark inside.'
Jin Muhon flicked his hand—whoosh.
Kwaaang!!
“Kyaaak!”
“Euk!”
The debris crushing the people flew off in all directions. With that, Jin Muhon slowly walked away. From the collapsed hall came the sound of sobbing.
Thank you! Thank you, my lord!
Step. Step. Step.
The red shadow pierced the Sichuan Tang Clan's darkness, moving onward.
Jin Muhon moved toward the Family Head Residence, cloaked in Blood Mist. Having grown accustomed to the fifth stage, he could wield it this way now.
“Hmmm.”
The courtyard was a hellscape of devastation. With his Sword Intent withdrawn, the evil souls had dispersed. Instead, shallow Blood Mist pooled on the ground amid over a hundred scattered corpses. Their states were gruesome—severed limbs everywhere, faces frozen in pre-death despair, lingering terror congealed like a swamp in the Blood Mist.
Whoosh—splat!
Then, a man vaulted the high wall into the residence.
“Huk! Wh-what is this?!”
Blood from the floor splashed his robe. Cheongpung, arriving late after handling Jin Muhon's orders, gasped and drew his sword.
“You! Did you do this?!”
Spotting Jin Muhon amid the Blood Mist, Cheongpung bellowed. Jin Muhon walked toward him.
Step. Step. Step.
“Who are you? Reveal yourself!”
White sword qi rose from Cheongpung's blade. Jin Muhon halted at the pure energy.
“Did you deliver the message?”
His voice twisted eerily through the Blood Mist. Yet Cheongpung recognized it.
“S-senior Brother?”
“Did you deliver it?”
Cheongpung clenched his jaw instead of answering. His trembling gaze stuck to the corpses around Jin Muhon.
“This... all of this... your doing?”
“Didn't I tell you? Why are you alone?”
“Your doing—is that what I'm asking!”
Cheongpung roared like a demon.
“......”
“Why silent! Even as a senior, what did they do to deserve this slaughter?!”
Cheongpung's mind was a storm. He knew the man was a vile demonic adept. Yet part of him had hoped he was orthodox. His wavering made the sword qi blur.
“Did you deliver it?”
Still, Jin Muhon repeated himself.
“I did! I delivered it! The Murim Alliance Sichuan branch couldn't believe the Sichuan Tang Clan allied with the Demonic Cult! They demanded proof! Said they'd send aid!”
“Proof... check the office. The family head was a fool—plenty of useful stuff there.”
With that, Jin Muhon resumed walking. Cheongpung trembled but couldn't speak. The red shadow passed him by.
“Se-senior!”
Shing!
Jin Muhon whirled, slashing with the Sword of the Four Emperors. The black blade pierced the Blood Mist, nicking Cheongpung's throat.
“......!”
A trickle of blood dripped from the blade's edge. Cheongpung's eyes bulged, staring into the blazing mist. A heavy voice echoed like a ghost from beyond.
“If you're a martial artist, speak with your sword.”
“......”
Cheongpung gripped his sword tighter. It trembled. But one thought looped in his head. I'm dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
In the end, Jin Muhon withdrew his blade and turned away.
“See you again.”
“......”
Thud.
Only after the red Blood Mist fully vanished could Cheongpung kneel on the blood-soaked ground.
Two weeks later.
An ox-drawn cart trundled slowly along a sun-baked mountain path.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Rattle! Clunk.
“The Sichuan Tang Clan colluded with the Demonic Cult to target Qingcheng and Ami Sects. They aimed to devour Sichuan first, paving the way for the Demonic Cult's great army into the Central Plains. After the Great Orthodox-Demonic War, the Cult would absorb the Nine Great Sects' territories, and the Sichuan Tang Clan would take full shares of the Five Great Families. Ahem! Hm! Shall I continue?”
The man driving the cart cleared his throat cautiously. Jin Muhon, lounging leisurely under a canopy atop the cart, fanned himself and replied at ease.
“Continue.”
“Ahem! Hm! My throat's sore, but if the Vice Cult Leader—no! Family head commands it. Anyway! No one in the Central Plains noticed the Demonic Cult's blade at their throats. That's when! The Wudang Divine Dragon, on mission in Sichuan, uncovered it and requested aid from the branch. Aigoo, so thirsty. Just a sip of water.”
“Continue.”
The man, who'd slyly reached for the water jug, flinched and shrugged, pressing on.
“But! The branch chief, bought off by Sichuan Tang Clan bribes, rejected the Wudang Divine Dragon outright. That son of a bitch. Unable to stand by, the Wudang Divine Dragon charged into the enemy lair alone—”
“Hold.”
“Yes?”
Jin Muhon sat up slightly.
“Son of a bitch? You talking to me?”
“......!”
The man jumped.
“N-no way! Would I, of all people? It's been over ten years since I last saw you, Vice Cult Leader! I'm the Haomen Sichuan branch chief! Chief! What branch chief personally drives an ox cart all the way to Yunnam in this blazing sun? Huh? Son of a bitch was obviously for the Murim Alliance branch chief!”
Haomen, the faction of society's dregs. They took any job for coin, orthodox or demonic alike. Thus, Go Seokchu, Sichuan branch chief, had handled many commissions for Jin Muhon back in the Cult.
“Pepper bastard. Got cocky as chief, huh.”
“P-pepper? My name's Go Seokchu! Solid as stone, bountiful and gentle as autumn—a fine name! Didn't I tell you for ten years?”
“Did you?”
“Yes!”
“Anyway, continue.”
Jin Muhon lay back. Go Seokchu cursed inwardly.
'Son of a bitch. Sword Demon my ass. Why's the dead bastard alive, slaughtering innocent Tang scum? Though those poison freaks deserved it.'
“Pepper. No cursing. Or you might get cut.”
“No! My name—”
Sssup!
A chill killing intent shot from behind. Go Seokchu shuddered and continued.
“So... where was I? Hehehe.”
“Wudang Divine Dragon charging the lair.”
“Ah! Right. The Wudang Divine Dragon charged in and found traces of the Demon Spirit Pill. For reference, it's an elixir ground from humans. Anyway! With their secrets exposed, the Sichuan Tang Clan tried to kill him with vicious poisons and hidden weapons!”
Clunk! Moooom—
The cart jolted hard, perhaps over a rock.
“Whoa! You damn ox bastard!”
Go Seokchu's halted words were finished by Jin Muhon.
“Cheongpung exterminated the Demonic Cult-colluding Sichuan Tang Clan, saving the orthodox sects from peril. That's the rumor, right?”
“Yes! It's already spreading like wildfire to the Central Plains. The rivers and lakes are buzzing—time to call him Wudang Divine Dragon no more, but Wudang God Dragon. Heh heh. That Cheongpung bastard gilded his face thanks to you, family head!”
Jin Muhon chuckled, gazing at drifting clouds. He could picture Cheongpung, swept up and flustered. Like it or not, the man was now a hero who'd saved the martial world.
Mooooom!
“Whoa!”
The ox bellowed long, and the cart slowed to a stop. Go Seokchu shaded his eyes, peering ahead. Even under the scorching Yunam sun, a dark, ominous valley loomed far off.
“Family head. We're here. That's Poison Dragon Valley.”
Jin Muhon slowly rose.