Chapter 33
Episode 33
Even When Leaving
One side of the cave wall shattered into pieces.
A crater-like depression, as if a meteor had struck.
And within it, Poison Demon Yayul Seung was embedded.
Covered in debris and dust, Dokma's appearance was utterly ruined.
Broken fragments fell like rain, mingling with dark crimson blood.
Suppressing his breath, Dokma hastily adjusted his battered internal energy, his face twisted more with bewilderment than rage.
'......How?'
'Kihihi, this is absurd.'
Dokma couldn't comprehend the current situation.
His body, reinforced with the Supreme Poison Technique, was just a hair's breadth from reaching the pinnacle of martial mastery.
Yet his opponent, even at the highest estimation, was barely at the threshold of the Pinnacle of Martial Arts.
The difference should have been stark.
Even if the bastard had stolen some of his poison energy and martial power through some unknown dark art, it should have been nothing more than an annoyance—not a genuine threat.
A vessel unworthy of such power couldn't possibly wield it fully.
The moment the bastard threw a punch, Dokma countered with his own.
Their attacks crossed perfectly, each landing squarely on the other's face.
But the martial power and insight imbued in their techniques were worlds apart.
Naturally, Dokma's was incomparably superior.
So why......?
"You dead? No, you can't be. It's too soon for you to die."
That bastard had taken his attack head-on and remained unscathed.
Meanwhile, Dokma had suffered devastating damage.
No matter how many times he replayed it in his mind, he couldn't find a reason.
But his thoughts were abruptly cut short.
"Oh. So you were pretending to be dead."
"—!"
Crack!
At the sound of a thunderous stomp echoing in his ears, Dokma swiftly reassumed his battle stance.
His senses—hearing, smell, touch—overlapped, sketching Tang Se-woon's figure in his mind.
The enemy charged at him like a wrathful yaksha.
'Bastard! This time will be different!'
But Dokma didn't retreat an inch.
Thud!
He lunged forward with equal ferocity.
Whoosh!
From Dokma's body erupted a surge of demonic energy and terrifying poison far surpassing his previous output.
'Kihihit, if strength was lacking, then pour it out to the limit!'
Just like in his life-or-death battle against his sworn nemesis, Poison Lord Tang Ui-tae.
Dokma fought with the resolve of a man gambling his very life.
Fwoosh!
'Here it comes—!'
In an instant, the black threads connected to Se-woon's fingers surged toward Dokma like a raging tide.
Swish!
Though clearly a single thread, the black strands multiplied like clones, spreading in all directions.
Slash!
Dokma suddenly leaped into the air.
Spinning like a top midair, he twisted violently.
The black threads lunged at him like vipers seizing their prey.
Clink-clink!
'Got it—!'
But every thread that touched Dokma's body was deflected harmlessly.
They couldn't penetrate his formidable defensive energy.
Crash!
With movements reminiscent of a whirlwind, Dokma blocked every attack and closed the distance to Se-woon in the blink of an eye.
"Kihihi, I'll smash your face too!"
"Die!"
Schwing!
A chilling sound tore through the air.
Dokma drove his poison-laden fist straight into Se-woon's face.
Even if the bastard could absorb poison, he would never withstand this.
A divine toxin even Dokma couldn't control.
The Angsinru poison burned ominously within him.
But then—
Grin.
Se-woon flashed a ghastly smile.
"I was getting tired of waiting."
"......!"
Whoosh!
Se-woon effortlessly caught Dokma's fist mid-strike.
"Guhk!"
Sensing danger, Dokma tried to pull back—
But what?
His trapped hand might as well have been hooked in place—it didn't budge an inch.
This is bad!
A foreboding premonition flashed through Dokma's mind.
Whoooosh!
"—!!"
Through the captured fist, the Angsinru poison was being siphoned into Se-woon.
Not just that—even the martial energy wrapped around his hand was being drained away, as if devoured by a void.
For the first time, Dokma felt his blood run cold.
'Could this be why all my attacks failed until now?!'
Only then did he realize Se-woon's secret.
The effects of the Energy Absorption Art amplified drastically upon physical contact.
Defensive energy relied on circulating martial power to shield the body.
But if that energy was completely erased by the Absorption Art, the body would be no different from that of an untrained commoner.
His opponent's Absorption Art defied all logic.
Even the Blood Cult, which had gathered every forbidden martial art and dark technique across the land, possessed nothing so absurd.
All Absorption-type demonic arts in the Blood Cult could only siphon energy from unresisting targets at best.
'Ah.'
Beautiful.
He wanted it—so badly.
For a moment, Dokma was so entranced by his opponent's power that he forgot they were fighting.
But only for a moment.
Whoooosh!
"—!"
Dokma snapped back to his senses.
He had just witnessed the Angsinru poison—perfectly refined—emanating faintly from Se-woon's body.
He could handle even Angsinru?
The poison Dokma had spent his entire life cultivating, after scouring the land just to find its seed.
And now it was being stolen so effortlessly.
'This cannot be!'
To lose everything to the grandson of Poison Lord Tang.
This wasn't the humiliating end he had dedicated his life to.
Groooowl!
In an instant, a surge of violent energy erupted from Dokma's dantian toward his fist.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion followed.
"—!"
For the first time, panic flickered across Se-woon's face.
Thud.
Dokma's right arm, now a mangled ruin, fell to the ground.
He had blown it off himself—using the recoil to break free from Se-woon's grip.
'Now......!'
The moment he created distance, Dokma pulled out another method to deal with Se-woon.
Schwing!
He drew a talisman from his robes and hurled it into the air.
The talisman emitted a sinister glow.
Groooan.
The eerie patterns drawn in blood on the yellow paper burned themselves into the air.
Se-woon's eyes gleamed with recognition.
'A Storage Talisman!'
Storage Talismans were mystical tools capable of holding objects within.
Rustle!
From the distorted space, as if through a heat haze—
A demonic weapon emerged.
Dokma drew a massive saw-bladed glaive, its double-edged blade jagged like a centipede's legs.
The demonic weapon, Hundred-Legs.
A cursed blade said to be forged from the carapace of the Millennial Centipede, a creature of calamity.
'So Dokma had Hundred-Legs all along.'
Se-woon's vision blurred slightly.
In his memories from before the regression, Dokma had never wielded this weapon.
It seemed this had been his final trump card, hidden until the end.
"Die—!"
Dokma swung Hundred-Legs without hesitation.
Schliiing!
The blade extended endlessly, surging toward Se-woon.
Hundred-Legs' abilities were twofold: an infinitely elongating edge, and wounds that never stopped bleeding.
Unlike poison, the bleeding was more akin to a curse—something even Se-woon's Absorption Art couldn't negate.
And yet.
Clang!
Se-woon didn't even attempt to dodge.
He stood firm, adopting a stance while staring down the incoming demonic weapon.
It was identical to the preparatory stance for the second technique of the Shadowless Fist—Circle's Wing.
But what followed was entirely different.
Whoooosh!
The vast spread of golden threads coalesced around Se-woon's right fist.
Unlike Circle's Wing, which expanded them into a shield, the threads now compressed and concentrated into his fist.
Groooowl!
Vrrrrrm!
Simultaneously, the countless layers of golden threads began rotating violently, like a whirlwind rising from a dragon's ascent.
The manifestation of a shield meant to shatter all things.
Schwing!
The moment Hundred-Legs' blade descended toward Se-woon's neck—
Whoooosh!
Se-woon stepped forward and thrust his fist like lightning.
Shadowless Fist (Half-Form)
Second Technique:
Returning Wind
The carapace of the Millennial Centipede, the material of Hundred-Legs, was said to rival meteor iron in hardness.
But when Se-woon's fist, wrapped in golden threads, struck the blade directly—
Screeeech!
Crack!
Orange sparks sprayed into the air as Hundred-Legs' edge was endlessly shredded by the whirlwind.
The speed at which Se-woon's Returning Wind destroyed the blade far outpaced its regeneration.
"—Khuk!"
In an instant, only the hilt of Hundred-Legs remained.
Schwing!
Horrified, Dokma discarded the weapon and lashed out with his remaining left hand.
But—
"—!?"
"That won't work."
Schwing!
Se-woon, now right in Dokma's face, unleashed his strike.
This time, Returning Wind wasn't aimed at Hundred-Legs—but directly into Dokma's abdomen.
Crrrrack!
BOOM!
The moment Se-woon's fist connected, Dokma's defensive energy shattered once more.
Simultaneously, a violent storm erupted inside Dokma's body.
Agony beyond imagination—as if his very meridians were being torn apart.
"Guhk—!!"
"Kuhack!"
Though his opponent coughed up black blood and groaned in pain, Tang Se-woon didn't stop.
Boom!
Thud-thud-thud!
Dozens of flashes erupted in the darkness.
Se-woon rained down endless blows on Dokma like a man possessed.
An onslaught so brutal it would be called torture—far too cruel for a supposed orthodox martial artist.
As Dokma's body was painted crimson—
Crrrrack!
KABOOM—!
Se-woon's final strike sent Dokma crashing into the wall once more.
"......."
Dokma couldn't even scream.
His body, now corpse-like, twitched intermittently.
Had Abbess Abbess Geumhwa and the Emei Sect disciples seen this, even Se-woon might have hesitated—it was that horrifying.
Step. Step.
Se-woon absorbed the last remnants of Angsinru and walked forward to finish him.
His face held no trace of pity or sympathy.
Such emotions were a luxury for someone like Dokma, who deserved death.
Crack!
Se-woon seized Dokma's throat and lifted him high.
Dokma spoke weakly.
"......Ghk. It... hurts, my disciple."
"Are those your last words?"
"Kihihi. As if......"
Dokma grinned through broken teeth, his crimson eyes gleaming with malice.
"Let's...... see, shall we?"
"—!"
The moment Dokma finished speaking—
Kill him now!
Se-woon, sensing an inexplicable dread, tried to snap Dokma's neck.
Groooan!
"Kihi, hihi."
'Damn—!'
But an unfathomable force blocked him—his intent thwarted.
Whoooosh!
Sinister mist began rising around them, as if the space between the two had been cleaved apart.
Se-woon frantically searched for the source.
The hilt of Hundred-Legs, discarded earlier, was embedded in part of the altar—glowing ominously.
'A Spatial Partition Array!'
The moment Dokma realized his opponent's Absorption Art, he had given up on victory.
Instead, escape became his sole priority.
"Kihi......hi. Second lesson...... When you can kill your enemy, but don't...... this is what happens."
As the spatial partition array neared completion, holding onto Dokma grew increasingly difficult.
Mocking Se-woon, Dokma already knew this.
But Se-woon didn't let emotions cloud his judgment.
Variables could arise in any situation.
The key was to remain calm—and plant the worst possible trap in his enemy before he escaped.
'The most devastating thing I can give him right now.'
Direct force was sealed by the array.
Then what about the opposite?
Pushing energy into him—was that possible?
"Oh? Then consider this my first gift to you, Master. Take it graciously."
"......What?"
In an instant, Se-woon reversed the flow of the Reverse Heaven Energy he had been using to absorb power.
Instead of drawing energy into his upper dantian, he directed it downward.
Ordinary poison would only benefit Dokma.
But what about this curse—one even the Blood Demon from his past life couldn't cure?
Whoooosh!
The malformed dantian that twisted all absorbed energy into vile, toxic evil energy (邪氣).
Crrrrack!
KABOOM!
'Guhk!'
Se-woon deliberately converted his internal energy into the cursed evil energy of his congenital disability—and channeled it directly into Dokma through their point of contact.
Crrrrack!
KABOOM!
"GAAAAH! Kuhk......?!"
An agony unlike anything Dokma had ever experienced wrenched a scream from his throat.
At the same time—
Groooowl!
BANG!
The spatial partition array fully activated, ejecting Dokma into another space.