Chapter 274
Chapter 274
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 274
>Chapter Title: King of the Rat Bastards (3)
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Immediately after the storm of yin cold qi erupted with Jin Ha-yeon at its center.
A massive ice wall sprang up, blocking the middle of the battlefield.
And at the center of that ice wall, Jin Ha-yeon was trapped as well.
Frozen in place, her fate unknown—alive or dead.
“Ha-yeon sunbae!!”
Boom!
Finally grasping her situation, Ju Seo-yeon swung her short spear wildly, hammering the ice wall over and over.
“Ha-yeon sunbae!”
She regretted it. Regretted blindly retreating on Jin Ha-yeon’s order. She should have frozen solid alongside her.
But even forming spear qi to strike the wall, breaking through the ice wall Jin Ha-yeon had created was a pipe dream. It merely chipped away at the surface bit by bit.
Even so, Ju Seo-yeon swung her spear like a madwoman. As if trying to pierce a rock with dripping water.
But it was futile.
For every bit she pierced, cold qi leaking from within reformed the ice wall.
As Ju Seo-yeon wasted her internal energy on the meaningless act for a moment, someone approached and grabbed her arm mid-thrust.
“Snap out of it.”
“Shut up!!”
Her eyes bloodshot, Ju Seo-yeon swung her arm, and her elbow struck Hyeok-ryeon Seon-a’s cheek, swelling it red.
But ignoring the pain in her cheek, Hyeok-ryeon Seon-a stared at Ju Seo-yeon with icy eyes.
As Ju Seo-yeon faltered under that chilling gaze—eerily similar to Jin Ha-yeon’s—
Hyeok-ryeon Seon-a spat out blood from her torn inner cheek and spoke.
“She’s alive.”
The spot she pointed to was where Ju Seo-yeon had just been savagely pounding with her spear.
Where the ice wall was reforming as fast as she chipped it away.
“Cold qi is still flowing out.”
“!!!”
Finally realizing something, Ju Seo-yeon’s eyes widened, and Hyeok-ryeon Seon-a shifted her finger slightly.
Beyond the ice wall blocking them.
There, others were pounding the wall just as frantically as Ju Seo-yeon.
Though many of the Return Shadow Group had been swept up in Jin Ha-yeon’s technique, a few who were farther away had avoided freezing.
Seeing them, fury blazed in Ju Seo-yeon’s eyes.
‘Those bastards are the reason.’
The culprits who forced Ha-yeon sunbae to sacrifice herself and freeze.
The problem was the ice wall Jin Ha-yeon had created blocking her from those bastards.
As the half-transparent figures beyond conversed and then swung their weapons toward the floor, Ju Seo-yeon’s lips twisted grotesquely.
“Ha!”
Grinning ferociously, she thrust her short spear straight down at the floor.
Boom!
The floor supporting her shattered, and Ju Seo-yeon’s body plummeted vertically.
Mid-fall toward the lower floor, she spotted the black-clad foes dropping to the level below just like her.
Thud!
The instant her feet hit the lower floor, Ju Seo-yeon launched herself at them.
“Die!!!”
As she thrust her short spear with a voice dripping killing intent, Hyeok-ryeon Seon-a—who had followed her down—swung her twin claws in support.
Ju Seo-yeon’s short spear and Hyeok-ryeon Seon-a’s blood-red nails tangled with the black-clad foes.
Swoooosh!
From behind, arrows flew in to cover them, targeting the black-clad men.
* * *
While Ju Seo-yeon and Hyeok-ryeon Seon-a, along with Jeong-hyeon, fought the last of the black-clad foes to the death.
“Hahaha. Unlike the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult’s fanatics, your swordplay is so tame. Shouldn’t you pray while fighting? Who knows? Maybe the Heavenly Demon your lot worships will show up to save you.”
The Hao Clan Leader grinned slyly, provoking Il-mok.
It wasn’t Il-mok’s technique that tipped him off. He’d noticed from the battle raging behind.
“More than that, it’s truly shocking. Who’d have thought the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult’s madmen were scheming in the Central Plains, even using fake names.”
The Hao Clan Leader kept yapping nonstop, trying to distract Il-mok.
“With their grand Demonic Cult plot on the verge of crumbling thanks to us pathetic Hao Clan bastards. How frustrating for them.”
Inwardly, he plotted to kill this guy and vanish.
He hadn’t figured out exactly what rank this foe held in the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, but meddling in their plans spelled trouble on multiple fronts.
The moment that infamous Heavenly Demon showed up personally, he was as good as dead.
But despite the Hao Clan Leader’s endless provocations, Il-mok remained impassive.
Insults and mockery? He’d built immunity back in his public servant days.
Boom!!
Il-mok’s Soaring Heaven Sword clashed with the Hao Clan Leader’s dagger, unleashing another thunderous roar, as Il-mok calmly read the flow of battle.
‘Not a bad dagger, at that.’
After absorbing blood qi and grudges by the hundreds at Mount Baekhak, his Soaring Heaven Sword had grown far more ferocious.
Yet this dagger had clashed dozens of exchanges without breaking, marking it as a weapon worthy of being called a famed sword.
No quick end via weapon superiority, he mused.
“Ptoo!”
Mid-clash, the Hao Clan Leader spat something out in a sneak attack.
Focused on his movements, Il-mok easily identified it.
Spit.
Not a hidden weapon—just plain spit from a human mouth.
A street rat trick, but Il-mok swiftly turned his head to dodge.
Not out of germophobia.
‘A master is a master.’
Infused with internal energy, getting hit could punch a hole in his skull. Purely rational judgment, of course.
“The Hao Clan Leader fights like a real moron.”
It was still an absurd tactic that drew involuntary laughter.
“Hahaha. As the head of a gang of morons, I have to be the biggest one, right?”
The Hao Clan Leader replied with shameless pride.
So brazen it made calling him out feel foolish.
The fight with the Hao Clan Leader had been like this from the start.
Not just nonstop yapping.
He deployed Naeryeo Tagon like some legitimate lightness skill form, rolling on the ground to snatch plates or shattered bottles and hurl them.
Flash!
“Heh heh heh. Fooled you!”
He’d even feint a throw, then swing his dagger.
What was it?
Less a duel between masters, more a brawl with street trash.
Like a mud-slinging alley thug who’d suddenly become a master.
But the most absurd part? He really was a master.
Boom!!
He formed protective qi effortlessly, and his playful dagger swings always targeted vitals with sinister precision.
‘Reminds me of Merciless Snake Swap and North Wind Severing Spirit Hand.’
The dagger slithered in with serpentine paths. And it deceived the eye with its motion, firing covert sword qi.
On top of that, mid-footwork, he’d stick out a foot to trip Il-mok or swing a leg in a kick like some kicking art.
Flash!
His left hand, free of the dagger, unleashed finger qi in Golden Crow Palm or thrust a palm strike to send palm wind and disrupt Il-mok’s balance.
A vile style that pulled no punches, wielding a mishmash of arts freely.
The polar opposite of the Flying Dragon Pavilion Master’s extremely concise swordsmanship—yet trickier in its own way.
Absurdly, the Hao Clan Leader’s realm outstripped the Flying Dragon Pavilion Master’s.
Swinging his qi-clad dagger while spinning into a leg thrust infused with energy too—it showed mastery over qi and body alike.
After several exchanges blending with the Hao Clan Leader’s chaotic style, Il-mok chuckled as he swung his Soaring Heaven Sword.
“What a mess.”
“Heh heh heh. Countless fools have died to this mess—they’ll greet you in hell.”
The Hao Clan Leader took pride in his art.
Pride born from a lifetime of victories through such fights.
He’d fought this way even as a kid street rat, and after learning martial arts, too.
He’d killed that Hao Clan elder who strutted like a righteous sect hypocrite the same way, and betrayed and slain the previous Hao Clan Leader likewise.
This style had carried him to the top, pride forged from a lifetime’s experience.
“Oh, for the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, the previous Heavenly Demons who croaked first will welcome you. Heh heh heh.”
Even mocking the near-deified past Heavenly Demons left Il-mok unmoved.
“I’ve seen your bag of tricks. Time to end this.”
The foe, mid-swing, spoke in a bored tone, and the Hao Clan Leader grinned slyly.
“Heh heh heh. Bluffing with empty bravado that won’t land? Oh ho. Did your god whisper in your ear or something?”
Sneering, he thrust his dagger while covertly firing finger qi with his left.
Clang!
Il-mok parried the dagger, twisting minimally to narrowly dodge the hidden finger qi.
Then, his sword—clashing with the dagger—snaked in reverse along it, climbing toward the Hao Clan Leader.
The Hao Clan Leader twisted to shove the sword away and lashed out with a left leg kick, but before it fully extended, Il-mok’s right foot blocked his left knee.
He poured strength into his supporting right leg and hurled himself sideways, but as he deployed Naeryeo Tagon, a net of sword qi flew at his face.
Heavenly Net Sword.
Failing to rise, he rolled once more across the floor. Il-mok closed in instantly and swung his Soaring Heaven Sword again.
“Urk.”
The Hao Clan Leader swung his dagger and fired covert qi, but it failed again.
No matter the tactic, Il-mok blocked or dismantled it as if anticipating everything.
“You’ve got breadth from learning so much variety, but you’re trapped in a big rigid framework.”
Not a frog in a well, but one that never reached the sea—just lingering in a vast lake that superficially resembled it.
And that variety meant no depth; the waters weren’t deep.
Of course, the Hao Clan Leader was a master, but he paled against absolute masters.
Compared to the Martial Alliance Leader who’d visited the Mirok Holy Cult recently.
Or even Il-mok himself—it felt a touch shallow.
Before his Baekhak Mountain epiphany, it might’ve been different. But not now.
“Kuh.”
Slicing through the encircling net of sword qi with his dagger, the Hao Clan Leader let out a faint groan.
A long gash had appeared on his forearm—too late spotting a strand of sword qi slipped through the net.
After that, he fell endlessly on the defensive.
Rolling to grab and hurl debris. Sneak-spitting saliva. Mixing finger qi, kicks, palm strikes—whatever tricks he pulled.
All his ploys dismantled effortlessly.
“Eeeeek!”
The Hao Clan Leader’s face, once sly even in mad rolls, lost its leisure.
Each hidden trump crushed chipped away at decades of pride.
“Damn it!!”
As pride crumbled, rolling on the floor suddenly felt shameful.
Spitting saliva. Tossing hidden weapons.
Against a foe who shattered it all so simply, every act seemed pathetic.
‘I need a way! Figure out a way!’
His endless bag of tricks dwindled one by one in his mind. Like losing chess pieces.
As options vanished, his frantic expression twisted again.
“…….”
All pieces gone, he stared at Il-mok with a dazed, soulless face.
It was bizarre.
Il-mok, freed from the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword’s forms by his Baekhak epiphany.
Yet his impassive sword still severed the Hao Clan Leader’s neck.
Thud.
The head hitting the floor was utterly vacant. As if the soul had fled.