Chapter 3: A Long-Standing Grudge
Chapter 3
A Long-Standing Grudge
The watching disciples blinked in confusion, unable to comprehend what had just unfolded before their eyes.
But soon, they had no choice but to snap back to reality as a long trail of blood reached their feet.
"...What?"
"L-Lee Ho-seong lost?"
"Wh-What the—?"
The last one was so shocked he couldn't even form proper words.
The youngest disciple of the Martial Alliance Leader.
A half-baked descendant of the fallen Sichuan Tang Clan.
To anyone watching, the outcome had seemed predetermined.
And yet—
"Guhk! G-Guhk!"
Lee Ho-seong writhed in agony, clutching the stump where his arm had been severed.
Meanwhile, Tang Se-woon stood unfazed, his cold gaze sweeping over them.
To anyone with eyes, Se-woon was the clear victor.
But how the hell had he—?
Fear crept into their expressions as they wondered if they might be next, but Se-woon didn't even spare them a glance.
Instead, he turned inward, reflecting on his martial techniques.
'Disappointing. I still couldn't execute a perfect One-Point Kill.'
He wasn't wrong.
Despite bridging the impossible gap between a third-rate and a first-rate master, his technique had barely reached thirty percent of its true potential.
'My understanding (心) remains intact, but my energy (氣) and body (體) are incomplete.'
Martial arts were built upon three pillars: mind, energy, and body—understanding, internal power, and physical form.
The insights he had gained into the One-Point Kill before his regression remained, as understanding was rooted in the spiritual realm.
But the energy he wielded and the body he inhabited were far from normal.
His congenital disability—a malformed dantian—meant his body recognized internal energy as poison.
The only power he could muster was the five years' worth of energy he had painstakingly accumulated in his three meridians through dynamic cultivation.
'Only three years' worth left now.'
That single strike had drained two years' worth.
The One-Point Kill was a technique that demanded immense energy—fitting for an assassin's art, where survival hinged on a single, all-or-nothing strike.
A technique that poured every ounce of power into one decisive blow.
To outsiders, it might seem inefficient—even reckless—but for someone like him, whose energy couldn't sustain prolonged battles, there was no better fit.
"Cough."
Blood trickled from the corner of Se-woon's lips.
The backlash was catching up to him.
'Guhk!'
Crack! Crack!
Pain akin to having his intestines torn apart wracked his body.
It felt as though poison was spreading from his dantian through his entire being.
Just using the energy of his three meridians had triggered this reaction.
There was only one way to endure this torment.
"If you wish to stand above the heavens, you must embrace all the wickedness and strangeness of this world..."
"Rejoice. The Reverse Heaven Energy will save you."
The martial art bestowed upon him by the Blood Demon alongside the cursed dagger.
The power to wield Reverse Heaven Energy.
'Not now.'
Se-woon clenched his teeth, veins bulging in his eyes from the strain, but he endured.
He couldn't reveal demonic energy here—not while they were watching.
'Then—'
With the meager energy he had left, there was only one thing he could do.
His eyes gleamed with eerie light.
Thud. Thud.
Se-woon slowly advanced toward Lee Ho-seong.
Shiiiing.
A cold glint flickered along the daggers in his hands.
"W-Wait!"
"What the hell are you trying to do?!"
"Y-Young Master Tang!"
"Eeek!"
Realizing his intent, the disciples recoiled in horror.
Without hesitation, they scrambled away in panic.
Se-woon wasn't satisfied with just severing Lee Ho-seong's arm—he intended to end his life.
"Uwaaah! Uwaaah—!"
Ho-seong convulsed in terror as Se-woon closed in, crawling backward like a cornered beast, urine soaking his pants.
But Se-woon had no intention of relenting.
Oooong!
A sinister resonance hummed from the twin daggers.
Memories flashed before Se-woon's eyes.
"Pah. You fucking worm, how dare you raise your hand at me?"
Ho-seong had trampled Se-woon when he tried to protect Seol-i.
Stripped him naked and tossed him outside a brothel for all to see.
'I don't care about being humiliated.'
But that wasn't the point.
While Se-woon lay unconscious—
"You bitch, acting all coy when you're just a whore!"
Ho-seong had forced himself on Seol-i.
And the next day, she hanged herself.
"Die."
This bastard deserved death.
No—he had to die.
Se-woon summoned the last of his energy, enduring excruciating pain.
Whoosh—!
"AAAAHHH!"
Seeing Se-woon charge like lightning, Ho-seong screamed as if facing the Grim Reaper.
Shiiink!
Just as Se-woon's dagger was about to pierce his heart—
Swish!
A shadow descended from above.
Clang—!
A mysterious figure intercepted Se-woon's strike.
The sheer force of the blade sent Se-woon stumbling back.
Narrowing his eyes, Se-woon glared at the hidden observers now revealed.
'As expected.'
A group clad in unified black martial robes emerged—the Rear Dragon Guard, the elite protectors assigned to the Alliance Leader's disciples.
"Cease your actions, Young Master Tang. We cannot overlook this any further!"
The leader of the Rear Dragon Guard, Sword Demon Son Woo-gon, raised his voice.
His gaze burned with irritation and annoyance.
'Damn it. How did things escalate this far?'
He hadn't anticipated the situation spiraling out of control.
But now that he'd revealed himself, he had to end this swiftly.
"And what if you don't overlook it?"
"—!"
Se-woon's response caught him completely off guard.
Facing the Martial Alliance's warriors, Se-woon didn't retreat an inch.
Son Woo-gon almost laughed in disbelief.
'Hah. This brat doesn't know fear.'
Anger flickered in his eyes.
He assumed Se-woon was bluffing.
"You dare disrespect the Martial Alliance—?!"
Infusing his voice with oppressive energy, Son Woo-gon roared.
But instead of cowering, Se-woon smirked.
"What Martial Alliance? What right does the Rear Dragon Guard have to interfere in a personal grudge?"
"...!"
Son Woo-gon froze, rendered speechless.
"You didn't intervene earlier because this was a private matter of vengeance, and Lee Ho-seong isn't even a formal disciple yet—just a candidate undergoing evaluation. Isn't that right?"
"...Th-That's—"
Son Woo-gon couldn't refute him.
Every word was true.
Though Ho-seong had hidden it from the disciples, he was still in his probationary period.
Every disciple of the Alliance Leader underwent rigorous scrutiny—examining past sins and true character.
Only after passing could one become an official disciple.
The Rear Dragon Guard's presence wasn't for protection—it was for surveillance.
And by protocol, they should never have revealed themselves like this.
'But how the hell does this brat know that?'
Son Woo-gon wasn't the only one stunned.
The other guards trembled as if struck by lightning.
Se-woon sneered and pressed on.
"Or is there another reason you have to help him?"
"...!"
"Maybe you've already stuffed your pockets with dirty money?"
"You—! Shut your filthy mouth!"
Struck where it hurt, Son Woo-gon bellowed in rage.
A murderous aura radiated from him, but Se-woon didn't stop.
"No, I just don't get it."
Se-woon's gaze burned with years of suppressed fury.
"You turned a blind eye when an innocent woman was violated, but now that I'm executing justice, you step in? How the hell am I supposed to take that?"
"Justice isn't yours to deliver! The Seventh Young Master is under the Martial Alliance's jurisdiction—only our laws—!"
"Heh."
Se-woon couldn't hold back a scoff.
Suppressing the urge to vomit, he muttered:
"How righteous of the righteous path."
Son Woo-gon and the guards seethed, hands tightening on their hilts.
"You—! How dare a fallen clan's trash insult the Martial Alliance?!"
Se-woon smirked inwardly.
'Good. Make them attack first. That gives me an out—I won't become an enemy of the entire martial world.'
He was ready for this fight.
His provocation had one simple purpose:
These men were trash who deserved to die now—before they could betray everyone later.
Lee Ho-seong, Son Woo-gon, and the entire Rear Dragon Guard would one day be known by another name:
"Spare us! Please!"
"We'll hand over all our intel!"
"Long live the Blood Cult! Long live—!"
"The Martial Alliance's Worst Traitors."
Their betrayal would lead to the Sichuan Blood Incident, where thirty percent of the Alliance's forces would perish.
In that instant, Se-woon channeled his last remaining year's worth of energy into the Baihui Point at the crown of his head.
'Open the upper dantian—release the innate primal energy.'
Fighting them with just one year's worth of power was impossible.
But since he couldn't use Reverse Heaven Energy, his only option was to force open his upper dantian and tap into his innate primal energy.
The backlash would shorten his lifespan—but Se-woon didn't hesitate.
He struck the Baihui Point with all his gathered energy.
'Guhhh!'
Excruciating pain, as though his body were burning alive, engulfed him.
The previous agony now felt like child's play.
"Kneel and beg for forgiveness, or face dire consequences!"
Shing!
Son Woo-gon and the guards drew their swords.
At the same moment—
BOOM—!
With an explosive sound, Se-woon's upper dantian shattered open.
Channeling his innate primal energy through his meridians, Se-woon taunted:
"Try me."
"I'll tear that mouth apart—!"
Whoosh!
Son Woo-gon and his men lunged.
Son Woo-gon was a peak expert, and the guards—tasked with protecting the Alliance Leader's disciples—were all first-rate masters, no weaker than Ho-seong.
Shiiiing!
Clang! Clang!
Sword energy capable of cleaving steel rained down on Se-woon like a storm.
But—
"—!"
Strangely, Se-woon's focus was elsewhere.
Oooong!
Oooooong!
Like a fetus signaling its mother from the womb, a familiar resonance echoed within him.
Yet instead of joy, confusion gripped him.
'Why are you here?'
Because nestled inside his upper dantian was something that shouldn't exist yet.
The Divine Artifact he had poured everything into forging to kill the Blood Demon.
The intangible blade he had buried in the Blood Demon's eye.
Shiiing—!
The Formless Dagger had crossed time and space to appear before him.
How?
Had it been hidden in his upper dantian all along?
Questions piled upon questions.
"Die!"
But now wasn't the time for answers.
Haaa!
Se-woon channeled his primal energy into the Formless Dagger—
Just as he was about to unleash it—
"!"
"—!!"
Everything froze.
No—it was as if time itself had stopped.
No one could move.
Creak.
Then, as though he had always been there—
A white-haired, white-bearded elder materialized.
The sole moving entity in a frozen world, he placed a hand on Se-woon's shoulder.
"My, my. That power isn't something to be used recklessly."
Haaa.
Instantly, Se-woon's rampaging primal energy settled.
The Formless Dagger stilled.
And then—
Thud.
The world resumed.
"Guhk!"
"Cough! Hack!"
Son Woo-gon and the guards collapsed in disarray, groaning.
But only briefly.
"Eeek!"
"Gasp!"
Their faces turned corpse-pale upon recognizing the newcomer.
They discarded their weapons and prostrated themselves, shouting:
"We greet the Alliance Leader!"
"We greet you—!"
The strongest martial artist of the current era.
The master of the Martial Alliance.
The Sword Emperor, Yoo Jin-hak, stood before Se-woon.
The Supreme Overlord of Sichuan.