Inheritor of the Wolf's Blood (7)
I blinked, coming back to my senses. My head felt foggy. My stomach churned. It seemed I'd blacked out briefly from getting caught in that explosion.
...Am I alive?
I cautiously checked my body's condition. Fortunately, nothing was missing, and everything seemed intact. Crawling away to put as much distance as possible must've paid off.
Aah—don't stand and die. Crawl to live.
Part of me wanted to go further, pressing my right hand to my left chest and shouting, "Survival is my victory!" But sadly, this wasn't the time for such carefree dramatics.
I'd only just taken down one pursuer. I needed to grab Yeomhwa, hidden nearby, and get the hell out of here right now.
I forced my body upright, ignoring its protests to lie down and rest. Stumbling, I surveyed the surroundings.
Scattered warehouse materials ablaze from the explosion's aftermath, a warehouse spewing acrid smoke as it burned fiercely. That nameless Demonic Cult bastard was probably roasting inside like a Hoop-man, face and all.
...In a straight fight, at my current level, I couldn't have guaranteed victory against him. Good thing I didn't know how to make real soap but did know how to trigger a dust explosion. If I hadn't binged all those ability-user battle manhwa in my past life, I might've been the one dying today.
I let out a sigh and turned away from the burning warehouse. No time to get sentimental. The enemy was dead, and I was alive. That was the end of it.
Sima Mancheon thought that as he took a step forward.
Yeah, he mistakenly believed it was all over just like that.
But this was the Murim world.
"Haa... haa... Stay... right there...."
And Murim folk were those who pursued martial prowess. What decided the final outcome wasn't petty tricks, but pure martial might.
My body froze at the low growl of a wounded beast. Slowly, I turned toward the unexpected crisis.
My eyes met those of a demon staggering out from the flames.
Yeongdo glared at Mancheon, gasping for breath.
The spirit silkworm nurtured by the Divine Cult, woven into armor from Heavenly Silkworm threads—if not for that, he'd have died in the explosion outright. Half his face was charred, his body a ragged mess beyond description, but he was still alive.
A chance remained to reclaim the wounds and humiliation from underestimating his foe.
"Brace... yourself... I admit it. My resolve... was lacking."
His right hand, cloaked in demonic qi, thinly sliced his left wrist. Channeling inner energy, he sprayed blood to douse the embers clinging to his body. He extended his left arm, flaunting the dripping wrist.
His blazing eyes fixed on Mancheon.
"This is... my respect for you, and proof I'll hold nothing back... my resolve."
Red blood dripped from the wound on his left arm—drop, drop—like sand in an hourglass. With a face scarred by blade marks, burns, and blood, he declared his resolve.
"I'll kill you before I bleed out."
No more games. No more carelessness. Yeongdo's animal instincts screamed it: Mancheon wasn't some pup. To win, he'd have to stake his life—a true Murim warrior.
He stepped forward with left arm and leg, gauging distance. Raising his right arm, ready to strike at any moment. He staked his life and the Divine Cult's honor.
"Heavenly Demon Divine Cult Black Kill Squad elite assassin, Yeongdo (Shadow Blade)."
"Heavenly Demon Divine Cult Black Kill Squad elite assassin, Yeongdo (Shadow Blade)."
A wind blew from the burning warehouse at Yeongdo's back, hot air enveloping Mancheon.
He assumed his stance, drawing inner energy from his dantian. Defeat the enemy, protect his sister. Nothing changed. He plunged back into a life-or-death duel.
"Disciple of Confucius and the Immovable Bright King, Sima Mancheon."
He uttered the name of a master he must never reveal—a sign of his resolve to kill and silence.
"Disciple of Confucius and the Immovable Bright King, Sima Mancheon."
Scorching heat swirled between the two Murim warriors. No curses, no taunts. They simply closed in, wordlessly observing each other until they were within killing distance.
Inner energy and body at their limits. Only force of will propelled them forward.
Just one technique available. One exchange would decide it all—victor and loser divided.
Yeongdo moved first. Simple reason: his arms were longer.
His demonic-qi-clad arm shot toward Mancheon's throat like an arrow. Black Kill Hidden Hand—a mere inch would sever the carotid.
But Mancheon didn't hesitate. Instead, he thrust his throat toward the hidden strike, advancing to close the gap further.
If the foe bet on an inch, he'd bet on a full step.
First time using it in real combat. Ironically, the desperate deathmatch cleared his stray thoughts. Extreme focus naturally activated the Immovable Heart Method.
The Bright King's aura fills the eyes, slowing the world. The slowest yet swiftest step forward. Blood sprays from the throat. It's fine. Shallow. Just grazed. Ignoring the spreading pain, he clenches his fist and dives into the enemy's guard.
...In that instant, Mancheon's right leg buckled. His crippled leg threw off his balance, sending him tumbling.
And Mancheon thought:
—Fuck that shit!!
The distance was enough. He channeled even his falling momentum into a punch straight for Yeongdo's heart. A straight punch loaded with everything.
The esoteric Buddhist art, Bright King Fist.
Despite the grandiose name, it was ridiculously simple. The Bright King's aura was heavy. What if you added even more weight to a fist infused with that heaviness?
—A technique born from such idiotic logic.
Shifting your center of gravity to the fist, delivering a thousand-catty straight punch. That was the Bright King Fist's essence.
...And now, the Bright King's aura cloaking Mancheon's body combined with the coincidence of all his weight crashing forward in the fall, creating a minor karmic windfall.
A punch bearing a thousand catties crushes the chest, shattering bone to reach the heart. Destroys it utterly.
Yeongdo's instincts screamed: Danger. Body reacted before mind. Left hand up as a shield.
But it was futile. Crack—!! His left arm, already cracked from the Dog-Beating Stick Technique, couldn't bear the weight and snapped completely. Pushed back with the hand, it slammed into his chest.
"Uwoooooh—!!"
He roared, desperately trying to halt the fist, but to no avail. The thousand-catty weight pulverized his chest, crushing to the heart.
Unable to withstand the impact, Yeongdo's body flew back, slamming into the ground.
Mancheon, too, lost balance and fell hard, face-planting into the dirt. But he ignored it, clawing the earth with his hands to scramble up, bracing for the next move.
Yet Yeongdo, unlike Mancheon, couldn't rise. Chest caved in fist-shaped. Rolled-back white eyes. Blood foaming from his mouth. No one would call it anything but done for.
He watched a bit longer—no chest rise or fall. Definitely dead.
"Haa— haa—!"
Looking to the sky, he finally exhaled the ragged breaths he'd held back. Heart felt like bursting. Fatigue crashed in all at once.
...But he couldn't stop here. Couldn't rest.
He recalled Mukgang's words. Pictured Yeomhwa's face. This time, truly leaving the burning warehouse and enemy corpse behind, he dragged his heavy steps forward.
Yeomhwa, bursting from hiding at the massive explosion out of worry for Mancheon, swallowed unconsciously at the scene before her, murmuring:
"...Saoshyant."
If other Zoroastrian followers heard, they'd cry blasphemy—how could such a ragged cripple be Saoshyant? But she didn't care about their opinions. To her, his figure—slaying evil, turning his back on fire, striding straight ahead—was undoubtedly the prophesied hero's return, the reincarnation of Saoshyant.
Oppa... is Saoshyant?
Her mind reeled. For Saoshyant's devotion, she was to burn the world and die by the hero's hand at the end—the monster assigned to Sima Yeomhwa.
And the hero's role was to slay the monster. Not fight to this ragged state protecting it.
Her heart ached at her wounded oppa. Her head spun at beloved oppa being Saoshyant. His existence confused her utterly.
"...Why do you protect me like this?"
Toward her approaching oppa, she voiced the question long harbored in her heart. Tears welled in her red eyes.
***
What was the model answer for a brother when his hidden little sister suddenly popped out, asking why he treated her so well? Plenty of options, but seeing the teardrops in Yeomhwa's pretty eyes... nothing else came to mind.
My body moved first.
Whoosh—! I pulled her slender frame into a fierce hug with all my strength. I voiced my true feelings on her foolish question. Whispered tenderly.
"Because I like you, dummy."
If I didn't, I wouldn't have gone through all this trouble in the first place.