Chapter 14
Episode 14
No Need for Apologies
"......!"
Though no verbal response came, the agitation in the masked man's eyes was unmistakable beneath his hood.
But it lasted only a moment.
Son Wugon was a martial artist of the Great Master level—a core force within the Martial Alliance. He quickly regained his composure and immediately attempted to retrieve his dagger.
Swish!
Son Wugon's internal energy surged toward the dagger, intending to manifest sword energy and sever the threads constricting it.
Crk—!
Clang!
"?!"
"Did you really think that would work?"
To his shock, what clattered to the ground wasn't the severed threads—but dozens of shattered fragments of his dagger.
Se-woon had destroyed the weapon before the sword energy could even manifest.
'......What? Just threads?'
Snap!
Realizing too late the viciousness of the black threads before him, Son Wugon hastily activated his footwork and retreated backward.
Se-woon smirked at the pitiful sight.
"Seems like you just grabbed whatever was lying around in the armory to avoid leaving traces."
"—!"
"Let's see how long you can last without drawing your main weapon."
Snap!
Without giving him a moment to breathe, Se-woon pressed the attack.
Crossing his hands in an X-shape and pulling downward from his waist—
Whoosh!
The Golden Threads of Heavenly Net surged like tidal waves, lashing toward the enemy.
They twisted through the air like whips—relentless, unpredictable, and deadly.
Front? Left? Right?
'Damn it!'
Son Wugon had faced many martial artists in his time, including masters of flexible swords.
But even a single flexible sword was notoriously difficult to predict due to its elasticity—let alone ten black threads writhing in different directions simultaneously.
"Tch!"
A pained groan escaped Son Wugon's lips.
No method of complete evasion came to mind.
In desperation, he spun his body, attempting to defend and dodge while reinforcing his protective energy—
Slash!
But in an instant, the black vipers had already reached him.
Crunch!
"GAAAH!"
They sank their venomous fangs deep into his flesh.
A chunk of his torn mask fell to the ground, revealing a piece of severed flesh beneath.
"With one ear gone, you can't pretend you're not the culprit anymore, can you?"
Mocking his futile defense, Se-woon's threads had cleanly sliced off one of his ears.
The once silk-like threads had transformed into razor-sharp blades, each moving with lethal precision under Se-woon's absolute control.
Just as he had received the One-Point Kill technique in exchange for the Twin Polar Fangs...
The martial art Se-woon had learned from Suriin in exchange for the Celestial Silk—
Celestial Raiment Without Seam
First Form: Steel Robe
This was the perfected recreation of the Divine Maiden Sect's ultimate technique.
Celestial Raiment Without Seam was a martial art created by the sect's founder, the First Divine Maiden, after pushing Iron Shirt training to its absolute limit.
Most martial artists dismissed Iron Shirt as a crude external martial art focused solely on toughening the skin.
But the Divine Maiden Sect's Celestial Raiment was nothing so trivial.
Srrrk!
In that moment, Son Wugon—eyes rolling back in agony—drew the sword from his back.
Se-woon sneered at the pathetic sight.
"Should've done that from the start."
"Shut up—!"
Swish!
Abandoning any pretense of hiding his identity, Son Wugon roared in fury and lunged at Se-woon.
Closing the distance in a flash, he thrust his sword straight for Se-woon's throat without hesitation.
Slash!
The signature technique of his Lightning Sword—the very skill that earned him the epithet Sword Demon—unleashed.
A single, lightning-fast thrust.
True to his peak mastery, the blade radiated not just heat haze—but visible sword energy.
"DIE!"
Only sword energy could oppose sword energy.
Yet Se-woon's current level wasn't even at the threshold of peak mastery—let alone the pinnacle.
By all logic, he should have dodged.
But Se-woon didn't retreat a single step.
Swoosh—
Instead, he simply spread his palms outward and rotated them in a circular motion.
"—!"
With a metallic groan, the ten threads connected to his fingers overlapped in midair—forming an impenetrable black wall that shielded his entire body.
Celestial Raiment Without Seam
Second Form: Circular Wings
Son Wugon's azure sword energy collided with the obsidian shield.
Screeeech—!
BOOM!
Flames and shockwaves erupted violently, scattering the forge's tools in chaotic disarray.
Whoosh...
As the dust slowly settled—
"......Cough. Why... why?"
"Why couldn't you pierce through?"
"—!"
"Because your sword is weak."
Son Wugon stood frozen in shock, his sword broken in half, his robes shredded—while Se-woon remained pristine, untouched even by dust.
The Divine Maiden Sect's martial arts were fundamentally non-lethal, devoid of killing techniques.
But their mastery in defense and suppression was unparalleled.
Celestial Raiment Without Seam wasn't merely about hardening the skin like Iron Shirt—
It was the supreme internal energy art that reinforced clothing into armor.
'The Meteor Iron already rivals Eternal Frost Iron in durability—and now, enhanced to its limit by Celestial Raiment, even sword energy can't leave a scratch.'
Though appearing soft, the threads retained the indestructible hardness of Meteor Iron.
And with Celestial Raiment further amplifying their toughness, even perfected sword energy could be effortlessly blocked.
'Hmm... If I can channel energy into the threads consistently, I could even deflect explosive pellets.'
The ensuing battle was a stark contrast.
Se-woon remained calm, even distracted—
While Son Wugon, cornered and desperate, accumulated wounds across his body.
Flick!
Like now—Se-woon casually flicked his fingers.
Slash!
Thud!
"Ghk!"
The threads shot forth like arrows, piercing new holes through Son Wugon's body.
Infused with Se-woon's demonic energy, Celestial Raiment Without Seam had been reborn—filled with lethal intent.
Thud.
"Cough! Ugh..."
Then, Son Wugon spat black blood and collapsed to one knee.
His condition was clearly beyond combat capability.
Unbelievably, Se-woon had completely subdued a peak master.
Se-woon's icy gaze bore into him as he murmured:
"No one will mind if I repay you in kind before handing you over to the Enforcement Hall."
At the mention of I Hoseong, Son Wugon's pupils trembled violently.
That bastard had lost two limbs and had his dantian destroyed—but at least he was still alive.
Death was preferable to that fate.
Which left only one option.
Rustle—
In an instant, Son Wugon reached into his robes and gripped something.
'A forbidden technique?'
Se-woon immediately prepared to sever his throat—
BOOM!
But a blinding flash erupted where Son Wugon stood.
What he had pulled out wasn't a forbidden technique—but a talismanic artifact.
As the light faded—
The spot where he had been was empty.
"A Return Pearl."
The Return Pearl was a single-use talisman inscribed with spatial distortion magic, teleporting the user to a preset location.
Though limited to short distances and fraught with risks if misused—
It was invaluable for emergency escapes, standard issue for Martial Alliance executives.
Though Se-woon had lost his prey right before his eyes—
For some reason, his expression showed no trace of disappointment.
"Annoying."
Twitch.
Suddenly, the black thread connected to his ring finger moved ominously.
A bamboo forest not far from the Ironforge Hall.
Amid towering black bamboo—
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Son Wugon sprinted madly, drenched in sweat.
The moment he teleported here, he fled without looking back.
'......At best, he's barely second-rate.'
Yet he couldn't comprehend what had happened.
Before the ambush, he had scouted repeatedly—even during the fight, he confirmed—
The gap between their martial prowess was insurmountable.
'Not a single solid hit landed.'
The outcome was utter defeat.
No—could it even be called a fight?
And those eyes...
Shiver.
A primal terror wracked his body.
Those hollow, emotionless eyes that sought only his death.
He had seen eyes like that only once before—
'......The eyes of a demon.'
Early in his Martial Alliance career, facing remnants of the annihilated Demon Cult.
The memory sent chills down his spine.
Their power could only be described as monstrously brutal.
Crunch.
Then, Son Wugon abruptly stopped running.
Turning his head, relief flickered across his face.
"Huff... huff... He... he can't possibly track me this far."
He had poured all his remaining energy into his movement technique.
Even if the Divine Artifact had suppressed him, his internal energy reserves far surpassed Se-woon's.
There was no way Se-woon could cover this distance.
"Now then..."
He needed to decide his next move.
Returning to the Martial Alliance was suicide.
With overwhelming evidence, no excuse would save him.
And even if by some miracle he escaped suspicion, rotting away in the Xinjiang branch was unacceptable to his pride.
That left only one option.
Blinking dazedly, Son Wugon gazed into the distance.
"If I follow the Yangtze River south... and join the Heretic Coalition..."
He resolved to betray the Martial Alliance and defect to the heretical factions.
Once decided, plans flooded his mind.
"Right. If I trade the classified intel I know... they'll reward me hand—"
"Tsk tsk. Traitorous dogs always return to their old tricks."
"—!"
The voice of death whispered in his ear.
Slash!
Son Wugon instinctively swung his sword toward the source—
Clang!
"Ghk!"
"Of all places to flee... you chose this?"
His strike failed—blocked by a bamboo stalk.
The collision produced a metallic clang, as if he had struck steel.
"The bamboo in Black Bamboo Forest is harder than iron. Without sword energy, you won't cut through it easily."
"—!"
Son Wugon's pupils trembled violently.
He had exhausted his energy on movement techniques—leaving none for sword energy.
If slashing was impossible, he had to thrust—
As he shifted his stance—
Slice!
"......!"
His foot was severed cleanly at the ankle.
Black threads, slick with blood, coiled around his leg—when had they even entangled him?
"Pity. The Heavenly Net never releases its prey."
"Ghk... kuh..."
Son Wugon couldn't even scream properly—overwhelmed by unprecedented agony.
Whoosh!
Meanwhile, the threads coiled around his neck like a noose.
Only now, trapped like prey in a spider's web, did Son Wugon realize how Se-woon had overcome their vast disparity in internal energy.
'I-Innate Qi?!'
The innate qi flowing through the threads suppressed his energy.
Just as with I Hoseong—Se-woon was once again gambling his lifespan to wield power beyond his limits.
'What kind of madman...?'
Step... step...
Se-woon slowly approached the immobilized man.
Clatter.
Thud.
Son Wugon dropped his sword and prostrated himself.
"P-Please... spare me."
"......."
"I-I lost myself in shame. If... if you let me live, I'll surrender to the Martial Alliance. S-Sob... please... mercy!"
Tears and snot streamed down his face as he begged pathetically.
Se-woon frowned in disgust.
"......Disgusting insect. Stay out of my sight forever."
Fssst.
As Se-woon spoke, the threads restraining Son Wugon's neck loosened.
"Sob... th-thank you! Thank you, Great One!"
Se-woon turned away, his gaze filled with contempt.
In that moment—Son Wugon's lowered eyes gleamed with malice.
'Stupid brat—!'
So what if he wielded a Divine Artifact? So what if he borrowed innate qi to surpass his limits?
At his core, he was still a rookie fresh to the martial world.
Learn in death what every martial artist knows—
Complacency is death itself!
Swish!
Son Wugon lunged with his remaining leg—
Thud.
'......Huh?'
A searing heat suddenly bloomed between his brows.
His strength drained instantly—his vision blurred as if fogged.
He knew he was dying.
But he couldn't understand.
There had been nothing—nothing in the air.
"No need for apologies. I never trusted you to begin with."
Those were the last words Son Wugon heard before darkness claimed him.
A vertical scar marked his forehead—clean and precise.
Flick.
Se-woon retrieved his invisible needle from the air.
"......One left."
He murmured softly as dawn broke behind him.
The night receded—ushering in a new day.