Karmic Retribution
His skull pierced straight through, Mu Geon staggered and collapsed. Anyone else would have written him off as dead, but Ryeong was certain he would not perish so easily. Could an occult sorcerer commanding such grotesque, unnatural arts truly be felled by a mere hole in the head?
“Cut the act and get up.”
“Heh, heh-heh. You possess quite an amusing power.”
Szzzzzt.
With the sickening hiss of searing flesh, the cavity drilled through Mu Geon’s head knit itself shut. Whatever foul sorcery he had employed, immortal qi had failed to inflict any meaningful harm. More precisely, even if it wounded him, the flesh regenerated almost instantaneously. The elemental superiority of antithetical energies had been rendered entirely moot.
“Forgive me for doubting you. Once I devour you, achieving Demonic Transcendence will be well within my grasp.”
“You keep babbling about transcending demonhood. Unless you want your hairline to transcend off your skull, shut your damn mouth.”
“The trial is concluded. Now, let the banquet truly begin.”
Skreeeeech!
A piercing wail of spectral agony shook the foundations of the World of Chaos Palace. In the blink of an eye, the Ghost Command King vanished into thin air, leaving an innumerable horde of jiangshi in his wake.
Ryeong rallied the shadowed depths of the Heaven-Killing Art. When facing an army, no tool proved deadlier than the arts of assassination.
Accompanied by the Ghost Command King’s telepathic command booming via the Six Harmonies Voice Transmission, the legion of jiangshi surged toward her.
Gripping the Red Cloud Divine Sword in her right hand and the Evil-Slaying Dagger in her left, Ryeong accelerated into a blur. Weaving between the corpses with the Ghost Soul Steps, her presence dissolved until she seemed less significant than a stray speck of dust drifting on the wind. In the fraction of a second when the disoriented jiangshi lost their quarry, Ryeong slipped into their dense center, both arms flashing in lethal unison.
Slaaaash!
Her limbs moved faster than sight could follow. With each shifting afterimage, severed heads flew into the air in fountains of blackened blood. In under five seconds, she slaughtered nearly a hundred jiangshi.
“Kieeeek!”
“Kyaaaaah!”
Only now discerning her position, the corpses converged upon her. Yet Ryeong once again muffled her presence through the Ghost Soul Steps and leaped straight into the air. Void of intellect, the mindless undead never thought to look toward the ceiling.
Ryeong narrowed her eyes. Mingled among the common corpses were high-ranking Blood Jiangshi. Doubt gnawed at her. Did he truly believe he could wear her down with mere fodder like this?
‘He’s already gauged my strength, so why?’
Just then, the fabric of space ruptured without warning, and a grotesque beast thrust its gaping maw toward her throat. It was a Rakshasa Bird—a vile abomination categorized among the demons and specters of myth.
“Damn it.”
Rakshasa Birds were foul entities spawned from the concentrated yin qi of corpses rotting in mass graves. Though only one had lunged through the spatial rift, her assassin’s instincts warned her that several more lurked just behind the veil.
Swoosh!
Infusing the Evil-Slaying Dagger with immortal qi, Ryeong drove the blade through the Rakshasa Bird’s skull. Unlike the Ghost Command King, the monster succumbed instantly to the sacred energy. The drawback, however, was that the radiant burst betrayed her location, drawing the eyes of every jiangshi below.
Unfurling blazing wings of vermilion flame, Ryeong plummeted toward the flagstones.
KABOOM!
“Kiiik!”
The corpses waiting below rushed her, spearheaded by the Blood Jiangshi. Ryeong met them with the Vermilion Bird Killing Sword. Since jiangshi harbored rancid yin qi, the fiery vermilion energy—imbued with pure yang—burned through them with devastating potency.
“How long do you intend to stall with these petty parlor tricks?!”
Rumble!
Ryeong clashed Black Tortoise Water Qi against Vermilion Bird Fire Qi, instantly conjuring a wall of dense, blinding fog. Shrouding the jiangshi’s line of sight, she withdrew the outward glow of the Celestial Immortal Divine Art. Blinded and stripped of their quarry’s scent, the corpses stumbled aimlessly—and in that veil of white, the realm’s greatest assassin began her harvest.
Swish! Slice!
Determined to exterminate every corpse, Ryeong moved with lethal, unsparing precision. When was the last time she had driven her killing arts to such an extreme? Wherever she passed, jiangshi heads dropped like leaves swept up in an autumn gale. A flock of Rakshasa Birds tore through the rifts in the air and dove toward her, but she was already waiting.
“Where do you think you’re going?!”
Having culled the bulk of the horde, Ryeong channeled White Tiger Wood Qi and stomped down with thunderous momentum.
CRACK!
The tremor shook the stone hall like the roar of the Mountain Lord. Fiends though they were, the Rakshasa Birds froze stiff before the overwhelming aura of a divine beast. Ryeong’s icy glare flashed across the paralyzed flock.
Spurt!
Total engagement time: roughly one ke. Ryeong had wiped out hundreds of jiangshi and the entire flight of Rakshasa Birds. The sheer intensity of her exertion left a faint heat haze rising from her skin, and her eyes simmered with raw, unrefined bloodlust ignited by the pungent stench of gore.
‘If not for the Celestial Immortal Divine Art...’
She might well have suffered qi deviation. The palace was drowning in yin qi, and a woman's body naturally harbored far more yin than yang. Drenched in their blood and standing at the heart of their dispersed malice, she found herself deeply grateful for the immortal art. The death qi offered by the sacrificed specters had also proven invaluable, shielding her lower dantian from the encroaching corruption.
“[Splendid. To think you could retain your sanity amidst all this.]”
“Stop playing games and get down here! Are you that terrified of fighting me?”
“[Watching you move brings back fond memories. Tell me, what is your relationship to Cheonsal?]”
“...!?”
Ryeong’s eyes widened. Even if the Ghost Command King was one of the Four Great Villains, she had never once displayed Cheonsal’s martial arts before him. How could he possibly know that name?
“Do you know Master?”
“[How could I not? I share quite a special bond with Cheonsal’s master, after all.]”
Ryeong bit her lip until it bled. Cheonsal’s master was her own master from her past life. Could the master who had vanished without a trace one day truly have shared an intimate connection with one of the Three Demon Lords of the Demon Blood Divine Cult?
“Bullshit. If Master had practiced the arts of the Demon Blood Divine Cult, there’s no way in hell I’d be standing here opposing you.”
“[Believe what you wish. Yet I sense a violent tempest raging in your heart.]”
“...”
It was the whisper of an evil fiend—sweet poison dripping from the tongue of a foul sorcerer. Yet Ryeong’s judgment was far from sound. From the tragedy of Hubei to this very moment, she had witnessed far too much slaughter. The feral instincts she had suppressed while dwelling on Mount Jongnam were unraveling beyond control. Clouded by bloodlust and shock, she could no longer weigh her thoughts rationally—and Mu Geon knew it all too well.
“What?”
WHOOOOSH!
The blood pooling across the floor suddenly erupted skyward in geysers of crimson. Sensing danger, Ryeong slashed with sword astral to cleave through the rising gore.
CLANG!
As if striking an impenetrable barrier, her sword astral bounced violently off the blood. Instinct screamed that she was in mortal peril. Ryeong frantically gathered her qi to unleash the secret art of the White Tiger True Sword, but she was already a breath too late.
“I let my guard down.”
A pitch-black veil closed in around her. She had not been blinded, yet inside this absolute darkness, there was nothing she could do. Then, the world shifted.
Mount Jongnam stood engulfed in raging flames. Scattered across the ash-strewn ground lay the mangled corpses of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven and her fellow martial brothers. Ryeong stood entirely alone, gazing upon the devastation.
“You think... something this pathetic can break me?”
The corner of Ryeong’s mouth twitched. If his intent was to provoke her, it was certainly well-conceived. But her resolve would never crumble over a cheap illusion. Even if they were the first people to whom she had ever opened her heart, all she had to do was sever those ties and cast them aside.
...Or so she believed.
“Young Lady... is this truly the path you chose?”
“Jinyeong?”
A blood-soaked Jinyeong materialized before her. From his trembling arms and battered, ruined body radiated a suffocating fury. In his eyes burned unfathomable hatred and betrayal. Meeting that gaze, Ryeong felt an inexplicable agony seize her chest. Why did her heart ache so terribly?
Only then did the horrifying truth dawn on her. The one who had reduced Mount Jongnam to a graveyard... was none other than herself.
“I see.”
The moment she realized it, she looked down and saw her transformed reflection. Her own hands and robes were drenched in crimson gore.
“I trusted you, Young Lady... I believed in you!”
“Listen to me, Jinyeong. This is—”
“Traitor Jin Ryeong! No... Ryeong! For the sake of our fallen brothers, I will strike you down where you stand!”
“...”
Igniting his very innate true qi, Jinyeong lunged straight at her. She had to dodge. If she didn't, his blade would run her through.
‘Just move! An attack that slow is effortless to dodge!’
Yet why?
Why wouldn't her limbs budge an inch?
“Ah.”
She understood now. She finally realized why her body refused to move.
Drip.
A tear rolled down Jinyeong’s cheek. It was a tear brimming with bitter grief, furious indignation, and the shattered trust he had given to the girl before him. Facing those tears, Ryeong froze completely. To anyone else, it was merely an apprentice weeping, yet crushed under the suffocating weight of guilt, she could muster no other thought.
THRUST!
Jinyeong’s sword drove cleanly through her heart. It hurt—both the piercing cold iron and the tearing agony within her soul.
“Jinyeong.”
Meeting his blazing, tormented eyes, Ryeong’s lips curved into a faint, self-deprecating smile. She raised a trembling hand and gently patted his hair.
“I will never let a tragedy like this happen. I promise you.”
As the searing agony blurred her vision, Ryeong offered a soft, quiet smile.
And slowly, she closed her eyes.