Undercurrent War (5)
Why had the Sapa come to this place?
It could be explained in a single sentence: greed for the pinnacle of martial arts.
On the vast river of the murim world, it might look like each sect was drifting peacefully along, entrusting themselves to the current. But beneath the surface, they paddled relentlessly like ducks with their webbed feet.
Whether it was Han Bin or them, everyone was moving for the same goal: the end of martial arts.
It was a war of undercurrents.
Now, the only question left was who would become the prey and who the hunter.
Gazing into the empty sky, Han Bin organized the Yongrin Sword Art formulas he had acquired so far.
The basic edition, containing inner power and foundational stamina.
The application edition, holding the mystical forms of the Yongrin Sword Art.
The fusion edition, obtainable from those who bore traces of the Yongrin Sword Art.
What came after that?
For now, the priority was adding more pages to the basic edition.
Under the moonlight, Han Bin's figure gleamed as sharply as the blade of Wol-a.
His contemplation was brief. Han Bin summoned the formulas in his mind.
Activating Gugeol Ship-pal-bo and Jeon-gwang-seok-hwa simultaneously, his form vanished from the spot.
Sasasak.
At the same time, at the base of Yeongdan Mountain.
Several shadows flickered in and out of existence amid the underbrush.
Their clothing styles varied, but the color was uniform.
All wore black night garb.
Face masks covered their features as well.
There was a reason for this.
A rumor spreading secretly among the Sapa: the Shanxi Three Kills had stolen the Qingming Pill and were passing through here.
Masters superior in martial prowess to the Shanxi Three Kills.
Inferior ones as well.
All coveted the spirit pill equally.
But even if they luckily seized it, they lacked the power to protect it.
The apex predators of the food chain weren't here, after all.
Thus, they donned night garb and masks to hide their identities.
Yet one man ascended the mountain alone, without mask or garb.
Thud, thud.
Unlike others who muffled their footsteps, he infused his steps with inner power, as if flaunting his presence.
His powdered-white face stood out starkly.
Lips painted blood-red.
His face alone made it impossible to tell if he was man or woman.
He was the Residual Blood Demon Blade, Im Giltae.
A man ranked within the top twenty demonic blades.
His blade never knew a day without blood, earning him the moniker Residual Blood Demon Blade.
A close look at his Pa Hyeol Do revealed a groove carved into the upper blade.
Using this groove to hook and snap an opponent's sword—that was his signature ultimate technique, Geum Geom Il Do.
With the Pa Hyeol Do slung across his back, Im Giltae climbed the mountain as if strolling a plain.
Suddenly, the clash of weapons echoed from several directions.
Chaeng! Chaeng!
Im Giltae glanced sideways.
There, masked Sapa warriors were lunging to claim the Cold Iron Box said to hold the Qingming Pill.
At the sight, Im Giltae smirked.
He sauntered slowly toward the center of the chaos.
Chaeng! Chaeng!
The clanging weapons sounded to him like the strains of a seven-stringed zither from a pleasure house. His shoulders shook with amusement.
Was it his presence?
The resounding clashes gradually ceased.
Chaeng!
The last Sapa warrior to halt his sword turned to glare at Im Giltae.
"Who the hell are you?"
"……."
Im Giltae merely laughed at the question.
The way his lips curled upward was unmistakably a sneer, no matter who saw it.
Offended by the mocking smile, the Sapa warrior scowled and demanded again.
"Who are you, huh? Looks like you'll only cry when you're in a coffin."
"Pft!"
"You dare laugh?"
"Among those who've heard my moniker, not one's kept their head intact. Should I tell you or not?"
Tapping his temple, Im Giltae cast a bizarre sneer around him.
Standing at ease in the midst of a battlefield where over a dozen clashed, he exuded utter nonchalance.
Now the Sapa warriors began to grow wary.
"Who might you be?"
This one spoke with a hint of deference.
Im Giltae's smile deepened.
"In the murim world, they call me the Residual Blood Demon Blade."
Even in his playful tone, gasps erupted here and there.
"Gasp!"
"The Residual Blood Demon Blade of Tianshan?"
Tianshan referred to the Tianshan Mountains, home to the Demonic Cult's stronghold.
Few in the murim world hadn't heard of the Residual Blood Demon Blade.
Another chimed in.
"A master of the Demonic Cult? That brutal one…… No, you're the Residual Blood Demon Blade?"
Murmurs rippled through the group.
Someone asked again.
"What brings a New Cult master here?"
Calling it the New Cult instead of Demonic Cult was to flatter him.
Im Giltae chuckled at the sight.
"Can't you tell? Why else would I come? Do I look like I'm here for fun?"
His androgynous, eerie tone made the Sapa warriors step back and shout.
"What business does a Demonic Cultist have coming all the way to Henan?"
"Passing through Hebei on other business, heard there was something good here, so I dropped by."
Finishing his words, Im Giltae extended his right hand.
The Sapa warrior tilted his head.
"What does that mean?"
"Heard you cuties have a nice thing called the Qingming Pill. Hand it over first."
His tone dripped with sarcasm, obvious to anyone.
At once, the Sapa warriors' eyes shifted to a small bundle on the ground.
A quick exchange of glances.
Their swords turned toward Im Giltae.
Having signaled with their eyes, the Sapa warriors charged him simultaneously.
Shing!
Flashing blades from all sides.
Im Giltae withdrew his hand and drew the Pa Hyeol Do from his back.
Hwak!
In the same instant, he sliced through their midst.
As Im Giltae passed among the Sapa warriors, a strange sound rang out.
Tick! Tick!
The odd noise echoed a couple times before he fully broke through in the direction they'd come from.
Turning back, Im Giltae jerked his chin at them.
The Sapa warriors tilted their heads, puzzled.
Then Im Giltae snapped his fingers.
Tang!
At once, their weapons snapped in half and began falling.
Thud! Thud!
The halved blades embedded in the ground.
"Damn it!"
"He really is the Residual Blood Demon Blade!"
As they all gnashed their teeth, Im Giltae approached slowly.
Step by step.
Fully unleashing his inner power, a bloody aura swirled around him.
Overwhelmed, the Sapa warriors dropped their broken weapons.
Thud! Thud!
The frontmost one shouted.
"We yield. So……."
He never finished.
Swish!
Before his words ended, Im Giltae's blade naturally arced through the air.
In that instant, fresh blood sprayed from the neck of the lead Sapa warrior.
Grinning, Im Giltae flicked his index finger at the man's head.
The head fell off.
The survivors recoiled at the sudden fountain of blood.
Even hardened Sapa warriors, undaunted in battle, found Im Giltae's presence pure terror.
Before his overwhelming might, they trembled faintly.
One managed to speak through gritted teeth.
"Why, Residual Blood Demon Blade? Didn't we surrender?"
Im Giltae shook the blood from his blade.
Spatter!
"Surrender is for those who still have strength left. The powerless don't even qualify…… Don't you think so?"
Finishing, he wiped the remaining blood droplet from the blade with his left hand.
Swish.
Bringing the bloodied hand near his face to inspect it, he continued.
"Too thin. Seems like it needs a bit more blood. My baby here's hungry."
His "baby" was his beloved Pa Hyeol Do.
Spinning it in his right hand, he advanced on the Sapa warriors.
Thud, thud.
One blurted out hastily.
"There, over there!"
"What's there?"
"The Qingming Pill you're after. The Cold Iron Box with it—it's right there!"
Someone unwrapped the bundle on the ground.
A Cold Iron Box emerged.
Im Giltae eyed it and cleared his throat.
"Ahem."
The chill wafting from it confirmed it was genuine.
A box perfect for transporting spirit pills.
Im Giltae was convinced the Kunlun elixir, the Qingming Pill, lay inside.
The issue was dealing with the remaining Sapa warriors.
He nodded.
Relieved, they exchanged glances and sighed in unison.
Then Im Giltae moved like lightning.
Straight into their midst.
Shuk! Shuk!
His blade cleaved through them.
Thud! Thud!
Their heads hit the ground.
Having eliminated them all, Im Giltae picked up the Cold Iron Box and resumed his slow ascent.
Meanwhile, at the same time, Han Bin was wreaking havoc among Sapa warriors locked in fierce battles elsewhere, collecting formulas.
In the brush of Yeongdan Mountain, Han Bin's Wol-a danced.
Whish!
Sometimes the blade moved without purpose, but occasionally, new formulas appeared.
Confirming formula.
Application Edition of Yongrin Sword Art: Heo (heo)
Not a human-grade formula, but one from the application edition that would advance the Yongrin Sword Art.
Application Edition – Heo (heo)
Human-grade: Ja (ja), Ja (ja)
Whish! Whish!
But sometimes it was in vain.
[……Insufficient pages. Absorption on hold.]
The stroke decomposed into points and vanished.
Han Bin swallowed hard at the sight.
"What a waste of a formula!"
Well, no Sapa warrior paid his mutterings any mind.
They swung their weapons solely to seize the Cold Iron Box before them.
They refrained from slitting each other's throats, at least.
There was etiquette: step back if rendered combat-incapable.
That was when it happened.
Someone shouted.
"It's the Shanxi Three Kills!"
"Shanxi Three Kills? Then they must have the real Qingming Pill!"
"Does that mean ours is fake?"
"We saw other bundles earlier. No way to know which is real. Probably theirs."
A group of Sapa warriors whispered and dashed somewhere.
Their opponents followed suit.
Of course, Han Bin ran too.
He sought not the bundled Cold Iron Box, but the battlefield—and he couldn't miss this chance.
The Shanxi Three Kills, adept at slipping through Sapa encirclements, found their retreat blocked midway up the mountain.
Ice Blood Scholar So Gyeong-un's ingenuity had let them toss the bundle, steal masks, and flee successfully—but Pyun Yuk Rang-a's bulk was the problem.
Black Clothes Killing Wind and Ice Blood Scholar could pass for other Sapa with just masks. But even abandoning his Rang-a staff for flight, Pyun Yuk Rang-a stood out instantly.
Ice Blood Scholar So Gyeong-un was on the verge of tears.
It was too unjust.
In his view, every Cold Iron Box in the carriage had been fake from the start.
The real one probably hadn't even been brought along.