A Minor Misunderstanding (1)
The Reverse Blood Divine Art of the Demonic Cult was notorious for its severe backlash—even in normal use, it left the practitioner bedridden for at least half a year.
But what if it was activated while poisoned?
Death would come in less than a moment, no doubt.
Han Bin didn't care if the Residual Blood Demon died. The problem was that if he did, the gujeol might vanish too.
Yet charging at him now empowered by the Reverse Blood Divine Art?
It was time for Han Bin to make a choice.
And his choice was?
Strike first, sort it out later.
Han Bin swiftly dove into the Residual Blood Demon's embrace.
Then he unleashed the feint of East Strike, West Assault.
The odds were one in ten.
If that gamble paid off, victory was Han Bin's.
The Residual Blood Demon swung his Splitting Blood Blade to catch Han Bin's incoming sword in its groove.
That was when Han Bin's blade left an afterimage and vanished.
It reappeared an inch from the Residual Blood Demon's left chest.
Puk!
Han Bin's sword plunged into the Residual Blood Demon's left chest.
Watching from afar, the unorthodox warriors erupted in cheers.
"The Crimson Dragon Hero has won!"
"The unorthodox triumphed over the Demonic Cult!"
"Long live the Crimson Dragon Hero!"
But the Residual Blood Demon didn't release his Splitting Blood Blade.
Was it the inner power from the Reverse Blood Divine Art?
Still clinging to life, he thrust his Splitting Blood Blade into Han Bin's side.
The unorthodox warriors' cheers turned to screams.
One female warrior cried out.
"Ah! What do we do?"
"Hurry and save the Crimson Dragon Hero!"
Another woman shouted.
As they rushed forward, a gujeol floated before Han Bin's eyes.
Dragon Eye confirms the technique.
Human-grade gujeol: Kill (kill) acquired.
Human-grade - Kill (kill)
Confirming the gujeol, Han Bin glanced at his side.
The Splitting Blood Blade was buried deep there.
Han Bin said,
"Pull it out!"
The Residual Blood Demon grinned wickedly in response.
"You first!"
Thus, they locked in a battle of wills, each with a weapon embedded in the other's chest and side.
Han Bin realized his current bind was a dilemma with no easy escape.
He had long sensed the unorthodox warriors watching his fight from afar.
They praised him now as the Crimson Dragon Hero, savior of the unorthodox—but the moment his identity as Hebei Paeng Family's fourth young master was revealed, they'd turn on him.
And with the Three Killers of Shanxi lurking behind, exposure was only a matter of time.
The real issue was his wound.
To heal it, he'd need Miraculous Recovery, but he lacked the inner power for it.
That's when Han Bin spotted the necklace hanging around the Residual Blood Demon's neck.
It looked ordinary at a glance, but it was clearly a spirit pill pendant.
A Demonic Cult spirit pill?
There was no reason to hesitate.
After all, even the Dragon Scale had been stolen from the Demonic Cult.
Gripping his sword tightly, Han Bin reached out with his left hand and snatched the necklace.
The Residual Blood Demon thrashed in surprise, but Han Bin was faster.
The Reverse Blood Divine Art's effects were waning; the Residual Blood Demon was growing weaker by the second.
Meanwhile, the unorthodox warriors drew nearer.
The woman wailed in despair.
"The Crimson Dragon Hero's going for mutual destruction for our sake...!"
She couldn't finish.
Han Bin and the Residual Blood Demon, weapons still lodged in each other, slipped off the cliff.
* * *
Han Bin plummeted through the air.
He first swallowed the necklace he'd taken from the Residual Blood Demon.
A bitter tang slid down his throat.
It was unmistakably a spirit elixir made from century-old snow ginseng from the Heavenly Mountains.
'Who'd have thought I'd save my life with a Demonic Cult elixir.'
Whoosh!
Even then, Han Bin and the Residual Blood Demon hurtled toward the river below.
His senses and consciousness faded.
Glancing ahead, he saw the Residual Blood Demon's eyes closed.
He'd lost consciousness.
Han Bin spun through the air alongside him.
The scenery whipped by.
Swiftly, Han Bin pressed both feet against the Residual Blood Demon's chest.
Then he kicked out with all his might.
Slick!
Moon Fang pulled free from the Residual Blood Demon's body.
The Splitting Blood Blade ripped out with a tear of flesh.
Crunch!
Han Bin checked his remaining inner power.
Still far from empty, now augmented by five years' worth from the spirit pill.
Five years added without even circulating it?
In a way, it was a waste.
Proper circulation after ingestion might have yielded even more.
Now his total inner power stood at eighteen years again.
Han Bin swiftly recalled the Human-grade technique from the Yongrin Sword Art: Miraculous Recovery.
His fading consciousness sharpened.
His senses were returning.
Once more, Han Bin marveled at the mysteries of the Yongrin Sword Art.
Its pinnacle must connect to the sword's limit—or perhaps the pinnacle of all martial arts.
Various thoughts on the Yongrin Sword Art flashed through his mind, but survival came first.
Han Bin looked down quickly.
The blue river rushed ever closer.
Splash!
Han Bin hit the water and surfaced moments later.
He scanned his surroundings.
One side: sheer cliffs.
The other: too far to reach the bank.
If he had any stamina left, maybe—but not now.
A true dilemma.
He'd escaped the Residual Blood Demon's clutches, only to become fish food soon.
Three years of inner power remained, but it couldn't accomplish much.
Miraculous Recovery had pulled him from death's door, true—but its effect was nine-tenths, not full.
The wound still lingered.
Han Bin treaded water relentlessly, gazing ahead.
Then, far off, he spotted a ferryboat.
Time to take a gamble.
Han Bin swam toward it with all his strength.
He was almost there when someone on the boat shouted.
"What the hell are you doing out there?"
Looking up, Han Bin saw a man in a bamboo hat rowing.
Clearly the ferryman.
Fighting the current, Han Bin approached the boat.
The ferryman's oar was right in front of him now.
Han Bin reached to grab it.
Whoosh, whoosh.
'What the...?'
Han Bin narrowed his eyes.
The oar zigzagged, evading his grasp.
Furrowing his brow, Han Bin yelled,
"Ferryman! What do you think you're doing?"
The ferryman doffed his bamboo hat.
His disheveled hair flew free as he bared white teeth in a grin.
He rowed again.
Up close, Han Bin saw a gourd and knotted cloth at his waist.
If genuine, that marked him as a Beggar Clan disciple.
The ferryman teased,
"How much you got? Pay the fare first if you wanna board."
This guy was nuts.
'I'm drowning out here, and he wants money first?'
Han Bin clicked his tongue inwardly.
The mad beggar kept mocking him while rowing on.
This was a challenge.
More pride than survival instinct surged in Han Bin.
He moved on instinct.
No flailing for the oar—instead, he focused on its motion.
It felt familiar somehow.
Looking closely, it was a staff technique thrust.
"Striking Staff Technique?"
At Han Bin's shout, the mad beggar faltered.
Seizing the moment, Han Bin grabbed the oar.
The mad beggar yelped in surprise and let go.
The oar dipped down.
Han Bin clambered higher along it.
It dipped further.
Grabbing the tip desperately, the mad beggar bellowed,
"You rotten bastard! Let go of the oar if you want saving or not!"
Han Bin grinned at the shout.
Half his body was already out of the water.
Clinging like a cicada, he yelled back,
"Pay the oar fee first!"
The mad beggar using Striking Staff Technique could easily shake him off—but that'd snap the oar.
To retrieve it intact, he'd have to dislodge Han Bin first.
Stunned by Han Bin's retort, the mad beggar shouted,
"What the hell did you say, you rotten bastard?"
"Deaf? Want the oar? Pay up!"
As Han Bin kept firing back, the mad beggar shook the oar wildly, roaring,
"You crazy bastard...!"
Han Bin gritted his teeth.
His wounds from the Residual Blood Demon were nine-tenths healed, but he couldn't use inner power yet.
Then, a refreshing roar echoed from afar.
Roooar!
The crisp, invigorating sound made the mad beggar whip his head around.
Han Bin smirked.
"Hey! First waterfall you've seen?"
The boat drifted swiftly toward the falls.
The beggar glanced between Han Bin and the waterfall.
The boat kept flowing toward doom.
Panicking, the mad beggar yelled,
"You rotten bastard! Get up here quick!"
"Oar fee first. Won't save you otherwise."
Han Bin shouted again, and the mad beggar glared murderously.
"You rotten...!"
But then his eyes darted between the waterfall's horizon and Han Bin—panic quaking in his pupils.
He shook his head in resignation.
"Fine, you killer bastard—oar fee it is! Hurry up and climb aboard!"
Han Bin narrowed his eyes.
"You promise?"
He double-checked.
The mad beggar extended a hand.
"Anything you want! Just get up here, you rotten bastard!"
Only then did Han Bin release the oar and board.
Glancing at the deck, he saw a knotted cloth had fallen loose.
Likely caught on the oar during their tussle.
Han Bin pocketed it.
The mad beggar rowed frantically, like his life depended on it.
The oar churned massive foam—Striking Staff Technique pushed to its limit.
Han Bin sprawled eagle-spread on the deck.
Once clear of the falls, the beggar turned.
"What the hell are you, anyway?"
"A drowning guy!"
"Hoo."
"Won't ask for your bundle, so relax."
Han Bin grinned, and the beggar's face twisted.
"Cut the crap—what's your deal, you pea-brained runt?"
"Pea-brained?"
Han Bin shot a dirty look, but the mad beggar snapped back.
"What else? A snot-nosed kid like you, totally off your rocker!"
"Hey, if you see me as young, thanks."
Han Bin stood and cupped his fists formally.
The boat rocked sharply.
The mad beggar yelled again.
"You rotten bastard! Sit down! Why are you so hell-bent on capsizing us?"
Han Bin sat.
"Whoops, sorry! Got a bit excited."
"Finally using your head, you rotten bastard."
The beggar tsked again, and Han Bin grinned, continuing,
"For the oar fee, how about some food? Meat side dishes would be great."
This was Han Bin's honest desire.
He was starving—truly, gut-wrenchingly hungry, not some gujeol craving.
Besides, he desperately needed this beggar's help.
If his identity leaked, the unorthodox would pursue relentlessly.
With this seemingly skilled beggar on his side, escaping the crisis would be easy.
Just for a day, anyway.
After that, all his basic gujeols would recover.
Seeing Han Bin's smile, the beggar grumbled,
"You damn pest—nearly flipped my boat, and now you want a free meal?"
But Han Bin replied leisurely,
"Gotta eat to live, right?"