The Four Divine Beasts Sword
“W-who are you heroes?! Why are you doing this to us?!”
“You’ve been living in luxury by sucking the marrow from innocent people all this time, haven’t you?” Ryeong asked coldly. “Time to pay the tab.”
“S-spare me! I’ll do anything! If you tell me to close up shop and quit banditry, I’ll quit right now! Please, show mercy…!”
“Hasn’t he suffered enough already?”
Ryeong looked down at the stronghold chieftain groveling pathetically before her. The man’s entire fortress had just been utterly pulverized by her and Jin Yeong after they dropped out of nowhere.
To the bandits, it was nothing short of a natural disaster. Just a few days ago, they had pulled off a massive heist and stockpiled a fortune, yet now their karmic retribution had caught up with them in full force. Not a single survivor remained in sight; every subordinate under the chieftain had already fallen before the blades of Ryeong and Jin Yeong.
The chieftain had thrown away his pride long ago. Bandit kingpin or not, the nameless wretch was prepared to do whatever it took to stay alive. While Jin Yeong felt a pang of pity seeing the man reduced to such a miserable state, Ryeong, who knew the harsh reality of the jianghu all too well, had no intention of letting him walk away alive.
“Hey,” Ryeong said, glancing at Jin Yeong. “Give me one good reason why keeping him alive benefits us.”
“A Daoist is meant to wander the world, aiding those in peril—”
“Drop the sanctimonious lecture. You know who I am, don’t you? I asked what profit there is for me—or for us—if we let this bastard live.”
“…”
Jin Yeong fell silent, unable to muster an answer. He couldn't deny it; there truly was nothing to gain from sparing a lone bandit chief. If they wanted wealth, they could simply take it after putting him down. Even if they took him in as an underling, dragged along someone who hadn't even reached the first-rate realm made no sense at all. Besides, what would people say if a disciple of Mount Jongnam took an outlaw from the Green Forest under his wing? It would only tarnish the sect's reputation. In short, there was not a single reason to grant him mercy.
“I am sorry,” Jin Yeong sighed, turning back to the trembling bandit. “I would have preferred to spare you, but the one holding the reins says you must die.”
“H-hiik!”
“Any last words?” Ryeong asked casually. “I’m a pretty nice person, so I’ll hear out your dying wish. Go on, speak.”
“A-a sacred beast! I know where the sacred beast dwelling on this mountain is hiding!”
The corner of Ryeong’s lips twitched ever so slightly. When faced with imminent death, a person would blurt out whatever came to mind. Moreover, the probability of such desperate words being true exceeded ninety percent. Sycophants often whispered sweet poison until a blade pressed against their throats, at which point they would throw every piece of leverage they had just to bargain for their lives. This man was no different. Staring into the jaws of death, he was willing to surrender his deepest secret just to draw another breath.
Ryeong sheathed her blade. Having narrowly cheated the reaper, the chieftain gasped raggedly for air, though Ryeong was hardly the type of woman to let him relax.
“If there isn’t a sacred beast,” she murmured, “you’d better believe you’re going to die a miserable death.”
“D-don’t worry! Do you know how many years I’ve crawled around this mountain?!”
“Did you just speak casually to me, you bastard? Want to die right now?”
“I will guide you at once! But first, you must recover your strength, so allow me to prepare some food—”
“What’s so exhausting about slaughtering a den of bandits? Lead the way right this second. If you’re lying, you won’t like what happens to you.”
The chieftain—who now introduced himself as Gu Ryang—bowed repeatedly before quickening his pace. As they walked, he explained that he was born in Sichuan and had taken up banditry the moment he came of age at twenty. Since he was well past thirty by now, his passion for brigandage had clearly spanned over a decade. The unfortunate part was that, after all those years, he had barely scraped into the first-rate realm. Then again, achieving first-rate status solely through a life of banditry was quite a feat in its own right; the man was certainly something else.
“What kind of sacred beast is it?” Ryeong asked. “Have you ever actually seen it?”
“I have never laid eyes on it directly,” Gu Ryang replied. “However, whenever that exalted being grows enraged, the entire mountain is thrown into peril. We always do our utmost to avoid disturbing it.”
“How are we supposed to meet something you’ve never even seen?”
“There is a specific altar where we offer sacrifices. Whenever we leave prey there, it disappears within half a day.”
Gu Ryang was hauling a freshly killed wild boar in his arms. Ryeong had wondered why he insisted on dragging the carcass along, but it turned out to be an offering for the creature.
“You must conceal your presence as much as possible,” Gu Ryang warned, his face flushed with nervous excitement. “The exalted beast may be accustomed to me, but you two heroes are outsiders, so—”
“Get down!”
Fwip!
Ryeong shoved Gu Ryang’s head down just as the whistling wind cut through the trees. A razor-sharp throwing dagger missed him by a hair’s breadth, embedding itself deep into the trunk behind them. In an instant, Jin Yeong drew his sword and unleashed a surge of protective qi.
“Stay down if you want to live,” Jin Yeong commanded.
“Y-yes, understood!”
Ryeong stepped back to back with Jin Yeong, eliminating their blind spots to brace for an ambush.
“Are you from the Demon Blood Divine Cult?” she scoffed. “The stench is overwhelming.”
“Those fiends are still lingering within Sichuan?” Jin Yeong asked, his voice hardening.
“Yeah. This energy reeks of their disgusting demonic arts.”
Thanks to the Celestial Immortal Divine Art, Ryeong possessed an innate sensitivity to demonic qi. The only reason she had failed to identify Dang Cheol-ryeong as a traitor earlier was because he had never cultivated demonic arts; against true cultists, her senses were infallible.
In response to her brazen words, figures cloaked in hiding began stepping into view from the shadows of the forest. Thick, unwashed bloodlust poured from their stances. They were all at least first-rate combatants, with several peak and transcendent masters among their ranks. Sensing the caliber of their ambushers, Jin Yeong tensed, his muscles coiling tight.
“Relax,” Ryeong whispered, instantly reading his posture. “Stiffening up will only work against you.”
She knew his martial foundation inside and out. The swordsmanship of Jongnam grew exponentially more potent the more fluid and relaxed the practitioner’s body was. In a state of rigid tension like this, he would be forced to block strikes that could easily have been parried and deflected. A healthy measure of alertness sharpened one’s senses, but excessive tension inevitably degraded one’s true skill. Taking her advice to heart, Jin Yeong took a slow breath and loosened his frame.
A moment later, a figure radiating the oppressive aura of the Profound Realm—or rather, the realm of Supreme Demon—stepped out from the canopy.
“Jin Yeong and Jin Ryeong, third-generation disciples of Mount Jongnam,” the man said, a cold sneer on his lips. “One is the former Sword Dragon, and the other a master of the Profound Realm. It seems Jongnam has been sharpening its fangs in secret.”
“And who the hell are you?” Ryeong snapped back. “A stray dog sent to wash the Heavenly Demon’s feet?”
“…Such foul language for a Daoist,” he muttered, his gaze narrowing. “Do you fail to grasp the gravity of your situation?”
“Heh. Acting like you’ve already won just because you surrounded us feels like watching a bad play. Aren’t you the one who doesn’t realize what kind of mess you’ve stepped into?”
“What…!”
Fwoooom.
As Ryeong released her murderous intent, Mu Ui-seong, Commander of the Blood Red Squad, knit his brows in alarm. It was an astonishingly dense, suffocating bloodlust—something unthinkable from a young Daoist. Not a single warrior within his elite squad could project a malice that profound. Bewildered, Mu Ui-seong asked, “Are you born beneath the Star of Heavenly Slaughter? How could a mere third-generation disciple possess such slaughterous intent?”
“Maybe an immortal bestowed a blessing upon me,” she mocked, “so I could wipe out cultist vermin like you.”
“Where is the Red Cloud Divine Sword?” Mu Ui-seong demanded, cutting straight to the chase. “I have no patience for beating around the bush.”
“Why are you asking me for the Red Cloud Divine Sword? Didn’t your lot already steal it?”
Their gazes clashed in midair. Words were already meaningless; both sides had already pieced together each other's circumstances. Even without another exchange, everyone present could feel the impending storm ready to erupt.
“Jin Ryeong, third-generation disciple of Jongnam,” Mu Ui-seong said, breaking the silence. “Join our divine cult.”
“Excuse me?”
“The killing intent you wield is wasted among the weaklings of the Central Plains. You belong with us.”
“I’ve heard plenty of bullshit in my life, but this takes the cake,” Ryeong laughed coldly. “You steal our sect’s sacred relic, and now you have the nerve to covet a disciple of the very same sect?”
Clack.
Feigning innocence, Ryeong touched the bracelet around her wrist and allowed the Red Cloud Divine Sword to snap back into its full blade form. She had just openly mocked him right to his face.
A thick vein bulged against Mu Ui-seong’s temple. Yet, calculating the sheer weight of her power, he swallowed his fury and made one more offer.
“Swear allegiance to our cult, and I will petition the Cult Leader himself to grant you whatever your heart desires. I swear it upon the holy name of Demon Blood.”
“Then give me back the Red Cloud Divine Sword you took,” she replied playfully. “You have to give something first if you expect to receive anything in return, don't you?”
“…Isn’t that wretched sword already in your hand, you wench?”
“Oh, look at that! It really is the Red Cloud Divine Sword!” she gasped in mock surprise. “My goodness, thank you so much for returning it! But, gosh, I really don't feel like going with you guys after all. What should we do?”
Grind.
Mu Ui-seong ground his teeth so hard they nearly cracked, his eyes bloodshot with pure rage as his battle aura flared out of control. In that exact instant, Ryeong’s playful expression vanished, and she vanished entirely from where she stood.
Not even Jin Yeong, standing directly at her back, could anticipate the movement.
“Aaaargh!”
A horrific scream tore through the clearing. Ryeong had reappeared right in the middle of the surrounding Blood Red Squad.
In the span of a single breath, she severed the throats of three cultists and vanished again, reappearing right back in her original spot. It had unfolded so instantaneously that none of the warriors could comprehend what had happened. Only one man—Mu Ui-seong, commander of the squad—had barely managed to track the blur of her footsteps.
The problem was what he had seen.
‘I couldn't track her cleanly… Could a mere third-generation disciple have reached a realm even higher than my own?!’
Her mastery was undeniably formidable, and the gap between them meant he could not handle her alone. Accepting this grim reality, Mu Ui-seong turned his gaze to his remaining squad members. Despite watching their comrades die in a flash, not a single one flinched. They were elite killing machines who never moved without their commander's direct order.
“So you insist on severing your own lifeline,” Mu Ui-seong growled.
“I told you to hand over the Red Cloud Divine Sword,” Ryeong shot back, smirking. “If you took it, you ought to return it.”
“…Strike! Kill them all!!”
Driven mad by her relentless taunts about that damn sword, Mu Ui-seong roared the order.
Whoosh!
The elite warriors of the Blood Red Squad launched themselves forward like ravenous wolves, hurtling toward the two Daoists.