Chapter 127
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 127
Chapter Title: Mythic Demonic Spirit Armor (5)
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I'd turned my back expecting him to circle around for a defense, but the bastard charged straight in like a brute. It was a tactic no one would choose, yet that idiotic strategy drew a pivotal stroke in the decisive battle against the Demonic Cult of the Demon God.
"If you're not scared, face me head-on!"
Even in a three-against-one, the Heavenly Martial Master wasn't being pushed back, but dealing with the Blood Ghost Servant was no easy feat. It was insanely fast and powerful, even when you knew its direction. Facing off against his own living self felt rotten. The situation of having to kill himself was utterly baffling.
'How the hell did he break the hypnosis?'
Over hundreds of years, the hypnosis hadn't weakened even slightly—breaking Reverse Heaven's secret art without that was impossible.
The Heavenly Martial Master's mind was a mess, but the Blood Ghost Servant and those punks were no small hindrance. Especially the Blood Ghost Servant made from his own flesh—it was so swift and mighty that this pathetic body couldn't handle it. The only way was to lure in that fox-like bastard.
"You're no warrior, not even a man!"
"The taunt's cliché, but I'll play along."
Anyone watching would think he was gunning for me now.
There was never any escape to begin with. Even using some demonic art trick wouldn't unleash its full power right away. If he had time, maybe, but he hadn't trained Cheolho that softly.
'This kid's gotten stronger in the meantime!'
Yukchil could feel Cheolho's growth firsthand. Sure, he was the old eye of the stronghold's top dog, but the kid was just barely seventeen. At that age, he was holding his own against a Heavenly Martial Master clad in the Mythic Demonic Spirit Armor. Even with the Blood Ghost Servant's help, Yukchil was starting to tire. But Cheolho? Far from wearing down, he was getting hammered into solid steel with every blow.
'That monster doesn't keep him around for nothing!'
Yukchil's pride stung.
Monsters were exceptions, but getting outdone by a brat was another matter. His internal energy alone outstripped the kid's by over a decade. Geniuses might scoff at a mortal's century, but he was a rising star in the Beggars' Sect. Not next Sect Leader material, but Chief Elder was in his sights.
'I won't fall behind!'
If the monster got serious, the whole dynamic would shift. He wanted no part of an unfinished pincer that couldn't seal the win.
Wuuuung!
Stimulated by Cheolho, Yukchil tapped into his dormant bottomless potential.
Spurred by each other, their power surged in an instant.
Kuh!
The Heavenly Martial Master was struggling just to block the Blood Ghost Servant. As he tried provoking Mujin to draw him in, the rookies suddenly transformed.
Stronger, sharper, more irritating. At first it was subtle, but now it grated heavily. Let his guard slip, and he'd be the one done in.
"Oh dear, oh dear! Ignore me after calling me over? That's cold."
Umjjeol!
Mujin, who'd kept his distance, appeared in the Heavenly Martial Master's blind spot. He slipped into the gap where the pincer locked tight.
Puaak!
He struck the open flank dead-on.
The Heavenly Martial Master's form lurched wildly from the blow under his shoulder blade. Even with the Mythic Demonic Spirit Armor's thick defensive wall around his body, it rattled his insides.
"...You bastard!"
"Eyes on me now."
The Blood Ghost Servant, Yukchil, and Cheolho pounced on the opening like raptors. They'd grown accustomed to the armor's auto-defense, widening the gap.
Around then, Mujin deftly stepped through blind spots, reliably targeting the Heavenly Martial Master's vulnerabilities.
Puak, puak!
He harassed from behind the Blood Ghost Servant, Cheolho, and Yukchil.
The Heavenly Martial Master, who'd tried to snag Mujin, ground his teeth. He knew it—deliberately riling him up.
"With these petty tricks, you'll never... Kuhlok!"
"Packed a punch this time. Feel it?"
A normal hit would've been handled by the armor's regeneration and healing arts, but Mujin's destructive force was vicious. It thoroughly wrecked every bodily function.
"...This can't be—how?"
"Had some pre-installed. Linked it up."
From the showdown on the boat with the Small Lake Branch, destructive force planted in Narung's body lingered. If the Heavenly Martial Master had checked when suppressing Narung's flesh, it might've differed—but Mujin had layered more, so its power was undeniable.
Kekekekekeke, thrash all you want!
Not that destructive force always imprinted will, but the one embedded in Narung's body had been crafted with care. Mujin's restored full power ran wild inside the Heavenly Martial Master. Not his house, so it partied hard.
"Stuffing your face with anything causes trouble. Kekekeke!"
Sorry, but Narung was spoiled goods.
Eating rotten food and acting normal would've been weird enough, yet rage had blinded him into charging. He should've meditated internally to resolve it.
Master of the martial void, Heavenly Invincible? Disappointingly dim.
Teeter, teeter!
Without a body, pain was absent, but possessing Narung meant physical agony affected the mind. That's why martial arts stressed the unity of essence, energy, and spirit—no isolating one.
"Kuhuhuhuuk, you cowardly wretch! Can't undo this?!"
Puaak!
The Heavenly Martial Master's face twisted wildly before snapping back. Mujin's fist had smashed it. Blood sprayed, then healed quick enough.
But the Blood Ghost Servant, Yukchil, and Cheolho's signature moves hammered him.
Pupupupupuuk!
Storm within and without.
Facing perils stacked like mountains inside and out, the Heavenly Martial Master felt suffocated—no exit in sight. Any gap, and he'd exploit it, but that sly bastard wouldn't allow it.
Weren't weak enough to ignore, either. Incredibly fast and strong, trajectories hard to track. And despicably dirty—the worst breed he'd never encountered in his long life.
"You bastard... Kraaak!"
Puak!
Mujin didn't swing wildly. He exquisitely disrupted whenever the Heavenly Martial Master tried something. Snuffed every scheme before it brewed, kept spacing perfect.
And the destructive force was piling up. Each internal assault strengthened it, tormenting him further.
Kuhuhuhuuk!
His pride shattered. The Heavenly Martial Master bit back screams. Severing the link with Narung's body could work, but then the Mythic Demonic Spirit Armor lost potency.
"...Keep this up, and I'll kill this one!"
"Yeah, do it."
"...?"
It was the Heavenly Martial Master's last resort. Using Narung as hostage to escape peril—but Mujin didn't bite. Flat refusal without a word boiled his blood.
Jjeeeng!
Why hesitate?
Mujin seized the Heavenly Martial Master's pause, thrusting an overbearing fist. The Strike of Supremacy pierced toward his heart.
The Heavenly Martial Master staggered massively. The armor couldn't dispel the grave internal-external shocks.
Thud!
He dropped to one knee.
Whish, puak!
Down on the ground, Cheolho rushed in and stomped his face hard. As his head snapped up into a standing position, Yukchil's Exploding Fist smashed his upper body.
Puak, puak!
Like bursting a leather ball, the Beggars' Sect ultimate—quintessence of Weighted Palm, Exploding Fist—detonated. Protected by the armor or not, the impact was severe.
Splat!
The Heavenly Martial Master, drained of energy, face-planted.
The Blood Ghost Servant leaped ten zhang into the air before rocketing down, knee-stamping his chest.
Pooguguguk!
Ribs shattered like thin winter ice—crack, crackle! Shockwaves spiderwebbed cracks to the walls. Cave dust puffed up as powder rained.
Tatadatak!
Normally you'd halt here assuming death, but Yukchil and Cheolho were no ordinaries. They showed textbook coup de grâce—even the dead got killed again. No pause, they swarmed the prone Heavenly Martial Master, stomping relentlessly.
Face, chest, dantian, balls.
Then arms, legs.
Thorough as full-power stamping, pouring every ounce like tenderizing meat for a perfect sear.
Pupupupuuk!
Mujin silently awaited his moment.
Rumors said even the dead sometimes rose, so certainty was needed. Pity for Narung, but adults bore responsibility for their deeds. Coveting treasure beyond his grasp—no resentment in death.
—Why not just kill him?
'Scared you can't win?'
—This body is the Demon King!
'Fine, whatever.'
Time was up.
He pulled back the Blood Ghost Servant, Cheolho, and Yukchil. The Heavenly Martial Master lay sprawled like well-kneaded muck. The Mythic Demonic Spirit Armor, fused with Narung, reverted to its original form.
Mujin stripped it off and donned it himself.
Circulated his internal energy.
—Gotcha, kehahahahaha!
'Yup, kekekekeke!'
The Heavenly Martial Master had feigned death as his final gamble. Returning to the armor meant survival anyway—he'd bet Mujin wouldn't discard its value lightly and would equip it.
As expected, Mujin did.
But before the Heavenly Martial Master in the mental realm stood Mujin... and another.
'Need a hand?'
—Hmph! I can handle it alone.
More than one soul in a body, the Heavenly Martial Master seethed at them debating who faced him—like appraising trash.
In a flash, he became the main course, scraping their insides.
—You punks, do you know who I am?!
'Who? The stomped one.'
Mujin laid it bare—even heaven would blush at the truth: trampled by himself and the kids.
Thoroughly stomped, the Heavenly Martial Master shuddered soul-deep. Fact as it was, the mental realm differed. Here, full power returned.
—I'll shred your soul to pieces!
—Your opponent's me.
—And who the hell are you?
—No manners for the master.
Mujin snorted at the Demon King claiming mental realm lordship, flipping guest-host. Shameless tenant, as always.
—I am the Heavenly Martial Master of antiquity! A lowly demon dares—
Soul-Piercing Demonic Eye
—Such petty tricks... Keuk!
—It works.
The Demon King never planned a fair fight. Soul-Piercing Demonic Eye triggered, shaking the Heavenly Martial Master's ego—he crumbled helplessly. Lack of immunity to such battles played a part; he'd never faced them.
Above all, the Demon King had clashed with Mujin countless times in the mental realm. Not mere power clashes—soul wars too. They'd honed by gauging each other's might.
'Cheating as always.'
—You're the last to say that.
'Fights don't pick means or methods.'
—True enough.
Pragmatists, both Mujin and Demon King. They wielded martial arts openly in daily life, but in battle sought peak efficiency. No fighting from disadvantage—if foe held edge, they didn't engage. Always crafted favorable terrain, herding enemies into doom.
Foes faced them at peril of laxity. Any weakness, and they'd rip in, forcing abject submission.
Like now.
The Heavenly Martial Master knelt meekly. Mental wounds healed normally, but his face stayed swollen, bruised black-and-blue. Demon King-style: restrained him, then pummeled the mug.
'High antiquity Heavenly Martial Master, beaten that brutally?'
—Saw it all and spout that crap? Say 'I'm different' and shut it.
Sharp instincts... souls or ghosts alike.
Maybe time to ascend.
Mujin approached the Heavenly Martial Master, dead serious.
'How much you got?'
—...?
'Die and it's five hundred taels like last time.'
—...?
Unbelievable. A bigshot like him with half an ingot? Hidden assets or stash for sure. Planners like him didn't go bare.
—...None!
'Lying's no fun.'
The Demon King drooled nearby. The Heavenly Martial Master's soul energy was decent.
—Can I eat now?
—...?