Chapter 311
Chapter 311
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 311
>Chapter Title: God (5)
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In the chaotic melee where hundreds clashed, whenever Jeong-hyeon drew back her bowstring, it let out a sharp noise like a cracking whip.
Crack!!
Her arrow pierced through the narrow gaps between allies, skewering at least two or three enemies without fail.
She was deliberately aiming to hit as many as possible with each shot.
Partly to provide greater aid to her comrades.
‘Now, five left.’
But the biggest reason was that the number of arrows she could shoot was limited.
It could be called the greatest weakness of the bow as a weapon. And her arrows were especially large, making it hard to carry many.
So she scanned the battlefield, searching for the optimal trajectory.
A path that wouldn’t harm allies tangled with the enemy. A path that would inflict maximum damage with a single arrow.
‘Now, four left.’
The arrow she loosed once more slipped through the tiniest gaps between foes.
Screeeeech.
Crack!
Even wielding such a massive bow and arrows, her precision and finesse reached an unreal level.
But even her astonishing skill eventually reached a dead end.
‘Last one.’
Screeeeeech.
Crack!
Successfully piercing three enemies in one shot, Jeong-hyeon let her arm holding the giant bow droop.
Thanks to her feats, the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult warriors had broken through the enemies’ interference and advanced.
Yet Jeong-hyeon’s expression wasn’t bright.
It wasn’t because she could offer no more help.
Her gaze had already turned to the rear.
Boom!!
Toward the fierce battleground where explosions rang out one after another.
Right there, Il-mok was fighting the enemy leader. Alone, having stayed behind.
As she stared anxiously at the rear with uneasy eyes, she sensed a presence nearby.
Turning her head, she saw Ohallak—who had been protected alongside her at the center—holding out a bow and arrows to her.
Unlike the massive ones Jeong-hyeon used, these were ordinary size.
Her face briefly anxious, she soon steeled herself and took the bow and arrows from Ohallak.
‘Right. Young Master will come back alive.’
She nocked an arrow on Ohallak’s bow and drew the string.
Perhaps because she’d handled the heavy monster bow for the past three months, this felt like wielding a toy.
But it wasn’t much different from her old bow, and with the Ghost Spirit Divine Bow’s effects, maintaining accuracy wasn’t hard.
However.
Twang!
Like the lightness in her hand, the arrow that left the string traced a feeble trajectory.
Clang!
Gone was the overwhelming power that pierced and killed two or three in one go, as when using the monster bow.
* * *
Boom!
Clashing with Taragai once more, Il-mok took a step back and impassively surveyed the battlefield.
“Tch.”
The flow of battle was quite delicate.
While he pinned down the Oirat Kagan, his comrades had, thanks to Jeong-hyeon’s efforts, carved a path forward.
But at some point, their pace had slowed, and at least two hundred enemies now surrounded them.
The warriors who’d been firing arrows earlier had also drawn their weapons and joined the encirclement.
Just as he bound the enemy leader, the enemy leader bound him in turn.
Around Il-mok and Taragai, only about a dozen warriors remained for insurance, while the rest had all moved toward his comrades.
Then, Taragai once more swung his curved blade infused with spinning qi like a saw blade, charging at Il-mok.
Boom!!
Sword thunder clashed with Taragai’s qi, booming thunderously.
“Hup!”
The moment Il-mok swung his Ascension Sword hard with a shout, Taragai—as if anticipating it—stepped back a pace and shook his blade.
Then something bizarre happened.
The qi spinning along the blade stretched long toward Il-mok, as if freed from a tether.
As Il-mok swung his Ascension Sword to cancel it, Taragai’s qi undulated and twisted with the blade’s motion, dodging the sword.
It was like wielding a whip, not a sword.
‘Strange technique.’
Il-mok didn’t panic at the odd qi movement. He’d seen it once before.
Taragai was also a supreme master, able to manipulate qi freely.
And Taragai’s way of handling qi differed from Il-mok’s.
Whether spinning qi like a saw blade at first or stretching it long like a whip now, Taragai excelled at deforming and adapting qi.
They were applications Il-mok hadn’t tried, making them instructive techniques.
That is, if the situation allowed leisure.
Blocking the whip-like qi with another swing of his Ascension Sword as he stepped back, Il-mok unleashed Heavenly Net Sword, forming dozens of sword qi strands and firing them at Taragai.
Taragai stood still, calmly watching the sword qi bundle, then— as they converged to bind him—suddenly swung his blade.
He shredded only the strands blocking his front with the blade and, using extreme lightness skill, effortlessly escaped the encirclement.
Then Il-mok’s Heavenly Net Sword pursued the escaped Taragai from behind.
Ignoring the sinuous, thread-like sword qi chasing him, Taragai charged Il-mok and swung his blade.
Boom!!
Ascension Sword and curved blade collided explosively, and Taragai used the repulsion to leap into the air.
And toward Il-mok, who had parried Taragai’s blade, the sword qi bundle flew.
Remnants of the Heavenly Net Sword Il-mok had fired.
Il-mok urgently threw himself aside, barely dodging the sword qi.
While clashing with Taragai and swinging his Ascension Sword, he’d lost control over the qi.
Forming qi for the sword swing while simultaneously controlling the already-fired bundle wasn’t easy for even him now.
Toward Il-mok, who’d avoided dying to his own technique, the writhing qi flew—riding the curved blade swung by Taragai airborne.
Boom!!
Stepping nimbly to barely evade once more, Il-mok used extreme speed for a surprise sword swing at airborne Taragai.
Sword qi formed along the Ascension Sword hurtled at immense speed toward Taragai, but he twisted direction midair with Void Step, dodging easily.
Looking up at Taragai perched on a thin conifer via exquisite lightness skill, Il-mok thought.
‘…Might end with just me dying.’
Things were okay for now, but the nomads charging in on horseback from afar were drawing steadily closer.
While bound to this Taragai, if they arrived, survival would be tough.
‘…If it ends with just me dying, that might be fortunate.’
That too, only if his comrades escaped the encirclement before they arrived.
Best would be slaying this Oirat Kagan and aiding his group, but that wasn’t easy.
As expected, the foe was no pushover.
Having weathered many wars, his practical combat experience felt superior.
Then.
The battle-hardened enemy made an uncharacteristic blunder for a seasoned warrior.
Standing on the tree, he turned his head somewhere—facing his rival, Il-mok.
But Il-mok didn’t attack such a Taragai.
Not out of warrior’s courtesy. Il-mok scorned such notions in real combat as foolish.
Simply, a familiar aura emanated from the direction Taragai looked.
Familiar, yet far more savage and heavy than usual.
“Heavenly Demon descends!!”
“Myriad Demons pay homage!!”
At the same time, a shout all too familiar to Il-mok echoed across the battlefield.
“…Master?”
Turning like Taragai, Il-mok saw an old man approaching the battlefield.
And the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult warriors, encircled and fighting desperately against nomad warriors, had all knelt, bowing to the elder and shouting.
“Heavenly Demon descends!”
“Myriad Demons pay homage!!”
It was an unreal sight.
Not just the cult fanatics suddenly kneeling mid-fight to bow.
Absurdly, even the Oirat warriors attacking them knelt in prostration.
No.
“Guhk….”
“Eeeek!!”
Forced to their knees, they thrashed desperately to rise, veins bulging, faces flushed crimson.
But their resistance was futile.
With each step the man called Heavenly Demon took toward the battlefield.
Thud.
Thud.
The nomads’ postures grew ever more reverent.
As if unable to even lift their faces, they groveled like insects, moaning.
“Cough….”
Those failing to endure the crushing pressure rolled back their eyes in fainting fits or vomited blood.
With his innate sensitivity bolstered by supreme realm attainment, Il-mok instinctively knew what unfolded.
‘…Intent-Imposed Injury.’
The realm where mere intent wounds the foe.
That unreal realm unfolded before his eyes.
“Heavenly Demon descends!!”
“Myriad Demons pay homage!!”
Even the cult followers shouting like zealots, bowing ceaselessly, wore expressions of pure ecstasy, free of any torment.
Unlike the neighboring nomads, who bowed similarly but spewed blood and foam.
So it was.
This place was already the Heavenly Demon’s domain.
“Gack….”
“Heavenly Demon descends!!”
“S-save….”
“Myriad Demons pay homage!!”
And within that domain, the power of life and death rested solely in the Heavenly Demon’s hands.
A being who could dictate human fate at will.
Il-mok knew such an existence.
‘…God.’
Heavenly Demon.
The one all Heavenly Demon Divine Cult followers revered as deity.
Il-mok realized belatedly: the cult’s faith was no heresy or idolatry.
Thud.
As the Heavenly Demon took his final step.
Not a single breathing Oirat tribesman remained.
Only the Oirat Kagan, who’d dueled Il-mok, survived alone.
The Heavenly Demon, expression impassive unlike usual, lifted his head to gaze at Taragai atop the tree.
“Insolent.”
Bearing the Heavenly Demon’s gaze alone, Taragai’s face had changed.
The proud predator was gone.
The wolf who’d lorded like the mountain’s master was frozen, as if facing a tiger for the first time.
Perched on the slender conifer via peerless lightness skill, he’d seemed leisurely at a glance, but now resembled a man cornered on a cliff.
A cornered rat bites even a cat, they say.
Absurdly, cornered Taragai chose leaping from the cliff over biting the tiger.
Flash!
Pale-faced, he urgently launched himself into flight.
“Tch.”
Disappointed by the cowardly escape, the Heavenly Demon clicked his tongue lightly and smoothly drew his Heavenly Demon Sword.
Incredibly, though not thrown, the Heavenly Demon Sword floated midair, then shot toward Taragai at tremendous speed.
Startled Taragai wrapped his curved blade in qi and swung.
Claaang!!!
The Heavenly Demon Sword, wreathed in brilliantly blazing qi flames—Ganghwan—shattered the blade in one blow and bisected Taragai’s body.
Having felled Taragai, the Heavenly Demon Sword traced a graceful arc back to its master’s hand.
And the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult’s god posed a question to Il-mok.
“Are you hurt?”
With the same gentle smile as always.