Chapter 36
Chapter 36
The Green Dragon of the Tang Family
Crunch. Crunch.
A middle-aged man walked along a deep forest path where not even a sliver of moonlight could penetrate.
Though his frame was gaunt and lean, it didn't convey frailty—rather, it exuded the sharpness and lethality of a honed blade.
Swish.
His cold, ruthless gaze swept across the surroundings, reminiscent of the blizzards of the North Sea.
A thick, poisonous mist seeped from all directions, emitting a horrifying stench.
The ground was riddled with toxic swamps where the corpses of dead wild animals floated eerily.
'...To set up residence in a place like this. He truly is a madman.'
Jo Yang-pung, the First Elder of the Blood Cult and the Sword Demon, frowned deeply as he thought this.
Those who ascended to the rank of elder were granted the privilege of establishing their own residences according to their preferences.
The Twin Fiends of Asura built a three-story pavilion adorned with gold.
The Death Buddha erected a temple atop Blood Demon Mountain.
As for the Sword Demon himself, he had chosen to reside within the main palace to serve the Cult Leader at all times.
But the man he was visiting now—
This lunatic was the only one who had made his dwelling in this accursed, forbidden land, a place so horrifying that even the others avoided it.
Crunch.
At that moment, the Sword Demon halted as he reached his destination.
Amid the poisonous fog so dense that not an inch ahead was visible, a single pond filled with blood-red water came into view.
Just as the Sword Demon peered intently into the mist—
"Kihihi, what brings the esteemed Vice-Leader to my humble abode?"
A chilling voice echoed, accompanied by an eerie laugh.
Whoosh!
Simultaneously, the mist rapidly dissipated.
Poison Demon Yayul Seung, submerged in the pond, glared at the Sword Demon with venomous eyes.
"The reports said you returned on the brink of death, but judging by that mouth of yours, you seem lively enough."
"Kekeke, I nearly died extracting my disciple's gift, but here I am."
His disciple's gift?
The Sword Demon found Dokma's words baffling, but he quickly dismissed them.
That wasn't what mattered right now.
His gaze shifted to Dokma's noticeably lighter shoulder.
"You've lost quite a bit of weight."
"Would you like to chop off your own arm and graft it onto me?"
The Sword Demon's eyebrow twitched.
This insolent bastard. He wanted to kill him on the spot.
Not once had he ever liked Dokma.
Before being a Blood Cultist, he was a demonic being—one whose murderous impulses raged like madness. But he suppressed his fury, recalling the Cult Leader's solemn command.
With a frigid tone, the Sword Demon spoke.
"Is it true that you were nearly killed by the heir of the Sichuan Tang Family?"
"Kekeke, you sly fox. That's not why you're here, is it?"
"...What?"
Swish.
Dokma shed his playful demeanor, fixing the Sword Demon with a gaze where only the whites of his eyes remained.
The sheer madness in that stare sent a chill down even the Sword Demon's spine.
It felt as though Dokma had seen right through him—though that couldn't possibly be true.
"You're here to confirm whether I've truly obtained Angsinru, aren't you? Sent by that Blood Demon bastard."
"How dare—!"
Clang!
Enraged, the Sword Demon immediately drew his sword.
He had no hesitation—he intended to behead Dokma on the spot.
But before he could even take a step forward, the situation was already over.
Whoosh!
Drip.
'What—!?'
The Sword Demon's drawn blade melted away before his eyes.
Hurling the hilt aside, he stared at Dokma in alarm.
"Kihihi, isn't it beautiful?"
From Dokma's outstretched hand, a terrifying miasma of poison—unlike anything the Sword Demon had ever felt—rippled through the air.
The Sword Demon's eyes widened in shock at this unknown power.
'He's crossed the threshold!'
Perfection of the Fire Realm.
It was said that those who mastered poison arts should be evaluated one realm higher than their actual level.
Meaning, even if Dokma was only at the peak of the Fire Realm, his true strength rivaled the extremes of higher realms.
Horrifyingly, Dokma had grown strong enough to stand toe-to-toe with him.
'...How did this bastard—?'
Dokma had been the weakest among the Blood Cult elders. How had he reached the pinnacle of the Fire Realm?
Unless—?
But the Sword Demon already had an inkling.
"Kikik, go and report. Dokma has finally obtained Angsinru."
"—!!"
The Divine Poison, Angsinru, was now in Dokma's hands.
And astonishingly, he wielded its toxicity with near-perfect control, suffering no backlash.
'...This is dangerous.'
The situation was far too perilous for the Sword Demon.
Not only had he lost his primary weapon in an instant, but the terrain was also overwhelmingly favorable to Dokma.
Gritting his teeth, he had no choice but to turn his back.
'Wait.'
But then the Sword Demon paused abruptly.
He turned and voiced the question that had risen in his mind.
"...I heard you lost the White Clans."
"Kikik, a regrettable affair indeed."
"But why did you use the White Clans instead of 'that'?"
"Kihihi."
"If you had used 'that' instead of the White Clans, losing an arm would've been—"
"Kihihihihihi!!"
Dokma didn't answer.
He simply erupted into endless, maniacal laughter.
"...Madman."
Disgusted, the Sword Demon shuddered and finally left.
Once silence reclaimed the surroundings, Dokma—who had been clutching his stomach in hysterics—returned to his usual demeanor.
Only then did he murmur a response the Sword Demon would never hear.
"Kikik, how could I kill such a precious disciple? Kehehe. Kekekeke."
Whoooosh—
The dissipated poison mist began to seep back in, filling the surroundings once more.
Amid the deepening abyss, Dokma licked his lips with relish.
Just wait a little longer.
My beloved disciple.
Shocking news had sent the martial world of Sichuan into turmoil.
The former Great Demon Head, Dokma, had reappeared.
The mere mention of his name struck terror not only into martial artists but even ordinary civilians.
In Sichuan's martial world, Dokma was the very embodiment of fear.
Though decades had passed, the memories of the countless atrocities he had committed across Sichuan still lingered vividly in their minds.
How many had shed blood and tears before Tang Tae, the Poison Lord, sacrificed his life to put an end to him?
And now, that nightmare had returned—stealing the Martial Alliance's escort goods and slaughtering the escorts of Manhaepyoguk.
The prudent course was to bar their gates and forbid all outings.
But.
The even more astonishing news that followed swiftly dispelled their fears.
At the center of this upheaval stood none other than the Sichuan Tang Family—
No, Tang Se-woon.
The largest inn in Sichuan's provincial capital.
"And thus, Tang Ho-yeol—who dared deceive the family head and commit vile deeds behind his back—met his gruesome end beneath his nephew's blade!"
"Ooh!"
A crowd as thick as storm clouds listened intently to the storyteller perched on the second-floor railing.
Not just the inn's patrons but curious onlookers had gathered in droves.
"Storyteller! They say the Young Lord of the Tang Family fought with threads forged from the sword bestowed by the Martial Alliance Leader—is that true?"
"Tsk, you fool! How could anyone fight martial artists with mere sewing thread?"
"But haven't you heard? The Young Lord is now called the 'Little Divine Doctor.' Needles and thread go hand in hand—why not use them as weapons?"
"Well, the Sichuan Tang Family didn't earn its reputation as the foremost in hidden weapons for nothing."
"Ah, I suppose..."
Ahem. The storyteller's cough silenced the murmurs.
"Ah, thus did the hero of the Tang Family join forces with the Silver Phoenix of Emei Sect, braving peril to infiltrate Dokma's lair!"
"Ooh!"
"Together, they overcame sinister traps and dreadful formations, rescuing hostages teetering on death's brink!"
"Waaah!"
The crowd erupted in cheers with each tale of Se-woon's exploits.
And how could they not?
To them, this was the first true heroic tale of a righteous warrior in ages.
"They say the hostage wasn't even an escort—just a young porter."
"He ventured into that hellhole for a mere porter?"
"Can you imagine any other martial faction in Sichuan doing that? They'd sooner extort protection money."
"True, so true!"
Thus, the storyteller's tale raced toward its grand finale.
"Ah, Tang Se-woon, who risked his life to avenge his subordinates! But the Great Demon Head Dokma wielded fearsome power!"
"Bravo!"
"Yet Tang Se-woon stood his ground, facing his subordinates' nemesis with unyielding courage!"
"Tang Se-woon! Tang Se-woon!"
The audience's fervor drew a proud smile from the storyteller.
Truth be told, this segment had initially drawn criticism.
How could the Young Lord of the Tang Family—whose deformed dantian confined him to mediocrity—possibly confront Dokma?
Accusations flew that the storyteller had attributed the Silver Phoenix's feats to Se-woon.
But.
Days later, when the Martial Alliance revealed the full account, the detractors vanished.
The notices posted across Sichuan contained revelations no one had anticipated.
Manhaepyoguk of the Sichuan Tang Family had its escort mission hijacked.
But the Young Lord immediately pursued, successfully locating the hideout.
There, he severed one of Dokma's arms mid-ritual, where the demon was sacrificing escorts for some dark art. Rather than punishment, the Alliance commended his deed.
Though the Sichuan branch of the Martial Alliance had openly disdained the Tang Family and Se-woon, this time, they had no choice but to acknowledge the truth.
The Alliance's investigation team had scoured Dokma's collapsed lair—and found his severed arm.
The arm bore traces of Dokma's demonic art, the Azure Jade Strike, irrefutable proof of Se-woon's valor.
"Gah! To face the Demon Head alone for the sake of his family's retainers, despite the gap in strength!"
"Where else in the Central Plains would you find such a man?"
Se-woon's reputation in Sichuan had undergone a complete reversal.
Even when acknowledged by the Sword Emperor, even after eliminating assassins, skeptics had dismissed him, assuming ulterior motives.
Now, the majority sang his praises.
"A mere youth, yet truly Sichuan's foremost righteous warrior!"
"A dormant emerald dragon had been hiding within the declining Tang Family all along!"
The One Hero of Sichuan.
The Green Dragon of the Tang Family.
Though these epithets weren't yet officially recognized by the martial world, civilians had already embraced them.
"Sigh, but I heard he's hovering between life and death due to Dokma's poison..."
"The Emei Sect's leader is personally treating him. Surely, he'll pull through."
"True. They say she hasn't left his side since the incident."
"Ha! The 'Living Medicine Sword' must have been deeply moved by the Young Lord's righteous heart."
And so, they all prayed earnestly for Se-woon's full recovery.
Yet at the same time.
'Ugh, this is more annoying than I thought.'
The man himself lay perfectly healthy in his sickbed, merely gauging the reactions around him.