Chapter 100
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Revenge Rekindled
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Gwak Eon spoke to the stunned Ban Yeo-hae.
“At least…”
As their eyes met, Gwak Eon grinned.
Even as he vomited black blood, his body pickled in the poison salt, he wore a triumphant smile.
“…I won’t be lonely on the way there.”
With those last words, Gwak Eon’s body slowly tilted, then collapsed like a rotten tree trunk.
“Ah…”
A sigh escaped Ban Yeo-hae’s lips.
He was the only one left alive and breathing in the entire area.
Just as he stood there, dazed.
“How did you learn that sword technique?”
“...!”
Startled by the cold voice that suddenly pierced his ears, Ban Yeo-hae whipped around.
About ten feet away.
He saw a man standing there like a ghost, who had appeared without him noticing.
“You are…?”
A cold glint flashed in Cho Ak-ryang’s eyes.
In that instant, Cho Ak-ryang was already in front of Ban Yeo-hae.
“Huk!”
Overwhelmed by the menacing aura, Ban Yeo-hae instinctively swung his broken sword.
A streak of red sword energy erupted from his broken blade and shot toward Cho Ak-ryang’s chest.
But Cho Ak-ryang was a master on a completely different level than Gwak Eon.
*Clang!*
With a single, casual gesture, Cho Ak-ryang dissipated the sword energy, then reached out and grabbed the hand Ban Yeo-hae used to hold the sword.
*Crunch.*
“Aargh!”
A scream tore from Ban Yeo-hae’s lips.
His hand, instantly crushed and mangled like a rag!
Seeing this, Ban Yeo-hae’s heart sank.
He had momentarily forgotten due to the life-or-death battle, but he now belatedly realized this was the master who had thrown the sword scabbard.
No matter how many extraordinary individuals filled the martial world like grains of sand on a beach, a master of this caliber was rare.
At least on the level of the Five Absolutes Under Heaven…
*‘Could it be?’*
Ban Yeo-hae’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Th-The Blood Hand Honored One!”
A cry of despairing shock erupted from his mouth.
A recently initiated disciple might not know, but having been with the Qingcheng Sect for many years, he recognized Cho Ak-ryang at once.
The bloodbath that had shaken the very foundations of the Qingcheng Sect!
Because of that incident, all the core masters of the ‘Qing’ generation, the pillars of the Qingcheng Sect, had met their end.
“I heard you were dead…?”
The cold voice spoke again to Ban Yeo-hae, who questioned him with shocked eyes.
“I asked how you learned that sword technique.”
Overwhelmed by an indescribably dominant aura, Ban Yeo-hae was completely cowed.
“Th-The Sect Leader bestowed it upon me.”
“What is his Taoist name?”
“Qingming. He is the Hermit Qingming.”
“Qingming…? A hermit?”
A look of confusion appeared in Cho Ak-ryang’s eyes.
The name was certainly familiar, but it didn't exactly match any in his memory.
“What is the name of that sword technique?”
Ban Yeo-hae shook his head at Cho Ak-ryang’s question.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“It never had a name to begin with.”
Ban Yeo-hae gestured with his eyes toward the manual he had dropped in front of the hall’s entrance.
“The sword technique is recorded in there.”
Cho Ak-ryang released Ban Yeo-hae’s hand and walked toward the hall.
He picked up the manual lying on the ground and checked its contents.
“...!”
Cho Ak-ryang’s eyes trembled uncontrollably.
*‘The Eight Forms of the Cinnabar Cloud and Crimson Mist!’*
This was by no means an unknown sword technique.
Even with the passage of time, how could he not recognize it? This was his master’s exclusive sword art.
Furthermore…
The familiar handwriting was also clearly his master’s.
A cold fire burned in Cho Ak-ryang's eyes.
Finally, he could guess what had happened.
The Qingcheng Sect scum who had taken his master’s life.
“Was this it?”
At that time, why had the Qingcheng Sect colluded with the authorities to pursue his master?
It was the moment a long-held question was answered.
They hadn’t acted for some grand cause like eradicating evil or vanquishing demons.
From the very beginning, they had been after his master’s manual.
His boiling rage now fully exposed, Cho Ak-ryang glared at Ban Yeo-hae.
“I had no intention of interfering from the start.”
The Qingcheng First Hall and the Dark Dragon Clan.
The two factions, clashing over their interests and destroying each other, was a picture anyone could easily understand.
Even if Gwak Eon had survived, he could have just killed him quietly.
No evidence of his involvement in this incident would have been left behind.
That was the result of exercising the utmost patience for Dan Ak-seon, who was trying to obtain the joint petition.
But at the last moment, everything went wrong.
Because he had seen the sword technique Ban Yeo-hae used to defeat Gwak Eon.
The seventh form of the Eight Forms of the Cinnabar Cloud and Crimson Mist: The Rain of Sharpness.
How could he forget that form, which had been etched into his eyes countless times during his childhood?
*Step.*
Cho Ak-ryang walked toward Ban Yeo-hae.
Meeting Cho Ak-ryang’s gaze, Ban Yeo-hae was frozen to the spot, unable to move.
“Knghh…”
A suppressed groan escaped Ban Yeo-hae’s lips.
A killing intent so intense it felt like his entire body would be torn to shreds.
Faced with Cho Ak-ryang’s presence, his eyes like a bottomless abyss, his mind went completely blank.
Looking at him, Cho Ak-ryang extended his hand.
*Thwip.*
The broken sword lying on the ground flew into Cho Ak-ryang’s hand as if sucked toward it.
Having grasped the sword with remote object manipulation, Cho Ak-ryang didn’t stop there and gathered his true energy.
Cho Ak-ryang drew his internal energy to its absolute limit and poured it into the sword.
“This is the true Rain of Sharpness.”
With those words, Cho Ak-ryang swung the sword.
“...!”
Ban Yeo-hae’s eyes flew open.
A thrilling rain of red sword energy, so awe-inspiring it made him forget even the fear of death, poured down before his eyes.
A terrifying divine might, making one doubt if it was a sword art a human could perform!
The Eight Forms of the Cinnabar Cloud and Crimson Mist, revealing its complete form after decades.
Beneath it, Ban Yeo-hae instantly turned into a blood mist and scattered.
Even then, the ferocious sword energy, its power undiminished, fiercely swept through the area.
Plants, rocks, and buildings alike were erased before the wave of red sword energy.
*Crack.*
In that moment, the sword Cho Ak-ryang held shattered into pieces.
An ordinary sword was never meant to withstand the immense internal energy used in the Eight Forms of the Cinnabar Cloud and Crimson Mist.
Gazing at the streaks of sword energy that scattered before his eyes, leaving red afterimages, Cho Ak-ryang muttered softly.
“Master…”
Cho Ak-ryang quietly looked down at the manual in his hand. Then, he turned his back on the martial hall, half of which had been erased without a trace, and left.
Once he was gone, a dead silence descended upon the area again.
The thick scent of blood drifted through the darkness.
In the area steeped in the smell of death, only the swirling night fog seemed to soothe the souls of the dead.
***
All the way back to the manor, Cho Ak-ryang kept thinking about the Taoist name Ban Yeo-hae had mentioned.
*‘I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before...’*
But the title “hermit” wasn’t in his memory.
As he entered the manor, Cho Ak-ryang noticed a hall with its lights on.
Realizing it was Yeom Sa-in’s residence, Cho Ak-ryang quietly walked toward it.
Stepping through the open door, he saw a neatly arranged altar. And he saw the back of Yeom Sa-in, burning incense with great reverence in front of it.
After carefully offering three sticks of incense, Yeom Sa-in turned around.
He was startled to find Cho Ak-ryang standing silently in a corner of the room.
“You scared me! I told you to make some noise when you walk around!”
“Why are you offering rites to my master?”
Yeom Sa-in chuckled at Cho Ak-ryang’s question.
“What’s with the formality? If he’s your master, he’s as good as mine.”
In fact, Yeom Sa-in had not missed a single day of burning incense.
Feeling unnecessarily awkward, Yeom Sa-in chided Cho Ak-ryang.
“Your friend is getting old and feeble, but you’re still in the prime of your youth. What’s gotten into you, taking a lonely stroll at night?”
“Just felt like it.”
Seeing Cho Ak-ryang’s evasive response, Yeom Sa-in swallowed the words he was about to say.
Cho Ak-ryang walked to the front of the altar and looked at the memorial tablet inscribed with his master’s name.
He lit an incense stick and bowed his head.
At that moment, he discovered a palm-sized wooden statue rolling about carelessly at the bottom edge of the altar.
There were originally seven, but now all had returned to their owners, and only one remained.
Cho Ak-ryang suddenly felt a strange sensation.
Picking up the statue, Cho Ak-ryang checked the characters carved on its back.
“...!”
Qingmingzi.
A cold spark ignited in Cho Ak-ryang’s eyes.
It was him.
One of the seven who killed his master.
The youngest of the Seven Masters of Qingcheng, the elite of the Qingcheng Sect at the time, was none other than Qingmingzi.
“Ha…”
A dry laugh escaped Cho Ak-ryang.
“No wonder it sounded familiar.”
The Qingmingzi from back then was now called the Hermit Qingming.
*Grit.*
Cho Ak-ryang ground his teeth.
A memory he could never forget.
His gaze had already traveled back decades into the past.
*Swoooosh.*
Drenched by the pouring rain, a boy was carving a wooden statue.
It was a cold rain that heralded the end of winter.
A terrible chill seeped into his body, making him tremble all over.
Despite this, the boy did not rest his frozen hands.
Then, the statue slipped in the rainwater and he dropped it.
*Slice.*
The small carving knife, having lost its target, sliced a long gash across his palm.
In an instant, the boy’s hand was covered in blood.
But the boy picked up the statue again.
His face was pale and his lips were turning a deathly purple, but the boy began to carve the statue once more.
The fiends who had killed his master.
Before the faces of the seven, which he had clearly seared into his memory, could fade even slightly, he had to transfer them to the wooden statues.
It was so he would not forget, even as time passed.
How deep must that grudge have been, etched into the very marrow of his bones?
*Tuk.*
The corner of the boy’s wide-open eye split open.
But the boy himself didn’t even realize it.
Whether what flowed down his cheek was rainwater, or blood…
Or perhaps tears, he couldn’t tell.
Instead, with a gaze bordering on madness, he focused all his attention solely on carving the statue.
How much time passed like that?
In the end, the boy was able to complete seven wooden statues.
They were statues carved with the faces of the Seven Masters of Qingcheng.
After glaring at each face, one by one, the exhausted boy collapsed into the rain.
And ten years later.
The boy who carved the statues began his revenge.
He began to write a history of blood unprecedented in the martial world, one that would later be called the Qingcheng Bloodbath.
Each time he killed one of the Seven Masters of Qingcheng, Cho Ak-ryang would leave the wooden statue carved with the man’s face and Taoist name next to the corpse.
When only the last one remained.
Cho Ak-ryang found himself in a difficult situation.
There was no way to find a trace of Qingmingzi.
Later, he learned from circulating rumors that the man was already dead.
How empty he had felt then.
He had wanted, at the very least, to see the fear in the bastard’s eyes before he died.
Though he couldn’t suppress his regret, Cho Ak-ryang concluded his revenge there.
And that was why Qingming’s was the only statue left in front of his master’s memorial tablet.
Seeing Cho Ak-ryang’s sudden transformation, Yeom Sa-in swallowed a groan.
The sight of Cho Ak-ryang exuding a horrifying killing intent, like a demon crawled out of hell, was utterly unfamiliar.
Moreover…
Cho Ak-ryang was smiling.
As if overjoyed by something, he wore a terrifying smile the likes of which Yeom Sa-in had never seen before.
How much time passed like that?
Cho Ak-ryang turned his head toward Yeom Sa-in.
“I have a favor to ask you.”