Chapter 99
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 99
Chapter Title: The Poison Salt Demon's Assault
-----------------------------------------------------------------
In the pre-dawn hours.
The deserted martial arts hall was silent.
Late at night, only the light from a single building pushed back the encroaching darkness.
Clank.
The door to the building opened, and a man stepped out.
He was a man in his early fifties, his thick eyebrows and strong jawline radiating a rugged masculinity.
Ban Yeo-hae, master of the Qingcheng First Martial Hall, stood motionless before the door, gazing at the rolling night fog.
He then took a slow, deep breath.
The crisp night air filling his lungs felt unusually sweet.
A light fog crept silently over the walls.
Surrendering himself to it, he felt an immense sense of peace.
As he savored the tranquil night, Ban Yeo-hae lowered his gaze to the manual in his hand.
‘It wasn’t just nonsense, after all.’
The sect leader had tossed him this manual, claiming it was worth studying.
Its title was erased, its origins unknown.
At first, naturally, he had been displeased.
Had it been one of the main sect's ultimate techniques, like the Seventy-Two Breaking Swords, it would have been different. But the sect leader had tossed him a nameless sword art, taking all the credit for his supposed generosity.
Recently, however, his opinion had begun to change.
A month had passed since he began studying the manual, figuring he had nothing to lose.
He had recently made noticeable progress.
‘A fearsome man.’
Ban Yeo-hae's eyes grew heavy as he thought of the new sect leader, whose inauguration was just around the corner.
When the man first appeared, Ban Yeo-hae wasn't the only one taken aback; many of the Qingcheng disciples were utterly bewildered.
This was because every disciple of the 'Qing' generation was believed to have perished in the Qingcheng Bloodbath.
Upon his appearance, the former sect leader, Unsan-jinin, had bestowed upon him the Taoist name 'San-in' and, with the utmost deference, appointed him to the position of Grand Protector.
Not long after, a great tragedy struck.
The former sect leader, Unsan-jinin, had suffered a Qi deviation and was left a broken man.
It had happened during a duel to pass on the main sect's ultimate arts.
His dueling partner, San-in of the 'Qing' generation, had hastily tried to treat Unsan-jinin by circulating his energy, but once the Qi deviation had started, it was uncontrollable.
As time went on, Unsan-jinin's condition deteriorated, and before long, he shed his mortal coil and ascended.
But those in the know knew the truth.
'Ascended' was a euphemism. He had died after a fortnight of excruciating agony, wracked by convulsions and fever.
In any case, faced with the absence of a sect leader, the Qingcheng Sect had no other option.
One man was naturally acclaimed as the new sect leader.
San-in, Unsan-jinin's opponent and martial uncle.
He was the only one in the Qingcheng Sect who held the highest seniority.
But Ban Yeo-hae knew the truth.
For he had been present at the duel.
At the very moment Unsan-jinin collapsed, coughing up blood, Ban Yeo-hae had coincidentally locked eyes with San-in on the stage. It was only for an instant, but Ban Yeo-hae had clearly witnessed the killing intent that flickered in the man's eyes before vanishing.
Ban Yeo-hae knew instinctively.
This was no accident.
He might have been able to deceive the naive Taoists of the main sect, who had spent their entire lives training in the mountains, but he could not fool Ban Yeo-hae, who had witnessed the full spectrum of human nature.
But Ban Yeo-hae remained silent.
His martial skill was formidable, but Ban Yeo-hae also lacked the confidence to contend with the man's background and his ruthless cunning.
Then one day, the man designated as the new sect leader quietly summoned him.
He handed over a manual containing an unknown sword art.
How could he not recognize it as hush money?
‘It must also mean I'm to work like a dog.’
He was a man of great ambition.
All the disciples of Qingcheng had been galvanized by his declaration to restore the sect, which now barely clung to its position among the Nine Great Sects, to its former glory.
Martial halls and escort agencies.
The fearsome expansion of the secular branches, operating under the Qingcheng name, was a direct result of his decisions.
This was why they needed to use the Dark Dragon Gang to seize control of the Salt Blossom Village.
He was uneasy that the Dark Dragon Gang was part of the White Serpent Society, but the die was already cast.
Now, there was no turning back.
And in a way, he trusted the sect leader.
Or rather, he trusted the sect leader's ambition.
A man of such ambition was unlikely to discard someone as useful as him.
If the Dark Dragon Gang had the White Serpent Society, he had the Qingcheng Sect.
‘All I can do now is wait.’
Just as Ban Yeo-hae nodded, steadying his wavering resolve...
Rumble.
“...?”
Ban Yeo-hae frowned, puzzled by the distant rumble of thunder.
The weather showed no sign of rain.
At that moment.
CRASH!
An explosive crash erupted right beside him, startling him so badly that he collapsed to the ground.
But the explosions didn't stop there.
KABOOM!
Three more impacts followed in quick succession, shaking the entire building.
Dust rained down from the swaying structure. Covered in debris, Ban Yeo-hae scrambled backward.
He couldn't make sense of the sudden chaos.
At first, he thought it was lightning, but he was wrong.
Ban Yeo-hae's face paled as he turned toward the source of the sounds.
His eyes fell on a sword embedded vertically in one of the building's pillars.
It was driven deep, scabbard and all.
“...!”
Ban Yeo-hae was dumbfounded.
He himself could throw a sword and embed it in a pillar. But it was the blunt scabbard, not the sharp blade, that had pierced the wood.
‘Who on earth?’
In the entire martial world, one could count on one hand the number of individuals capable of such a feat of power.
What if that had been aimed at him instead of the pillar?
The mere thought made him break out in a cold sweat.
While Ban Yeo-hae was reeling in confusion, the disciples of the hall, startled by the sudden uproar, came rushing out.
“Master!”
“Are you all right?”
“What in the world...?”
Ban Yeo-hae raised a hand to quiet his disciples.
Fortunately, whoever had thrown the sword showed no sign of further attack.
Ban Yeo-hae cautiously approached the pillar with the embedded sword.
At that moment, his eyes widened in shock.
The sword stuck in the pillar belonged to one of the disciples he had sent to watch the Dark Dragon Gang.
Moreover, the sword was covered in blood.
Ban Yeo-hae realized his disciples had met with disaster.
Looking around, Ban Yeo-hae shouted.
“All disciples, draw your swords!”
It might already be too late, but he couldn't simply ignore his disciples' fate.
But Ban Yeo-hae couldn't go to rescue his disciples.
CRASH!
The main gate of the martial hall blew off its hinges, and a group of warriors stormed in.
“The Poison Salt Demon?”
Ban Yeo-hae let out a choked gasp, recognizing the man leading the intruders.
In response, Gwak Eon, the leader of the Dark Dragon Gang, flashed a murderous grin.
“That's right. That's me.”
Gwak Eon strode forward and opened his mouth.
“Even uninvited guests are still guests, so I suppose I should show some courtesy first, right?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the men lined up behind him lifted something and threw it forward.
Thud.
A look of confusion crossed Ban Yeo-hae's face.
He thought they had thrown a side of meat, but then he realized with horror that they were the corpses of his disciples, butchered beyond recognition.
To think they'd toss him the bodies of his disciples as a gift.
Gwak Eon sneered at the speechless Ban Yeo-hae.
“Our usual method would be to pickle them for you, but we're a bit pressed for time. I'm sure you understand, given the circumstances.”
Ban Yeo-hae's eyes blazed with fury.
“You murderous bastards!”
Sword in hand, Ban Yeo-hae charged, and Gwak Eon rushed to meet him. At this signal, the warriors of the Dark Dragon Gang swarmed the secular disciples of Qingcheng.
The Qingcheng disciples threw themselves into the fray to meet the assault.
They were instantly entangled in a chaotic melee.
Curses and shouts erupted from all sides.
Through the cold clang of steel and the glint of blades flashing in the fog, blood sprayed and screams echoed.
KABOOM!
A heavy impact resounded from the center of the battle.
Ban Yeo-hae and Gwak Eon each retreated three steps.
But their expressions were in stark contrast.
Unlike Gwak Eon, who wore a leisurely smile, Ban Yeo-hae grimly massaged his throbbing wrist.
“Why? Did you think you could take the head of a mere salt merchant whenever you pleased?”
Ban Yeo-hae couldn't refute Gwak Eon's mockery.
He was too stunned by the unexpected turn of events.
He had never imagined that the leader of a minor gang in the White Serpent Society would possess such formidable skill.
On the other hand, Gwak Eon was contemplating how to kill Ban Yeo-hae.
In fact, he was one of the top ten masters within the White Serpent Society.
He had simply kept his abilities hidden, as was the nature of the secretive White Serpent Society.
Perhaps the Taoists of the main Qingcheng Sect would be a challenge, but the master of some remote martial hall was never his equal to begin with.
Just then, a glint appeared in Ban Yeo-hae's eyes as he surveyed his surroundings.
“Form the sword formation!”
At his thunderous command, the movements of his disciples changed.
They began forming the Three Talents Sword Formation in groups of three.
Though the Three Talents Sword Formation was considered third-rate, the difference between fighting with and without a formation was stark.
Especially now, with the fog obstructing their vision, no tactic was more effective.
As the disciples took the positions of Heaven, Earth, and Man, weaving in and out in a coordinated counterattack, the warriors of the Dark Dragon Gang quickly became disoriented.
Before long, they were on the defensive.
Sparks of fury flew from Gwak Eon's eyes as he watched his men fall screaming.
He had to turn the situation around somehow.
Deciding that taking the leader's head was the most effective solution, Gwak Eon launched himself toward Ban Yeo-hae.
“Die!”
Instantly closing the distance, Gwak Eon swung his claw-like hand.
It was his signature technique, the Dark Dragon Claw, capable of gouging an inch-deep groove into solid stone.
Ban Yeo-hae hastily raised his sword to strike the dark hand lunging toward him.
But...
CLANG!
Ban Yeo-hae's eyes filled with despair as he stared at his sword, which had snapped so easily in two.
Then, in a flash of inspiration, something struck him.
“Hah!”
Gwak Eon, who had been charging in, stumbled back in shock.
As he reached for Ban Yeo-hae's neck, a chillingly sharp aura had suddenly dug into his own.
Gwak Eon scrambled back, but warm blood was already gushing from his neck where a chunk of flesh had been torn away.
“Damn it!”
Seeing Gwak Eon spit out curses in fury, Ban Yeo-hae finally let out a sigh of relief.
He had saved his life thanks to an ultimate move from the manual he had recently begun to understand.
Venom filled Gwak Eon's eyes.
The bleeding was severe; the sword Qi must have grazed his carotid artery. At this rate, he would collapse before the fight was truly over. The surrounding situation was just as bleak.
The once-even battle had now completely tipped in favor of the Qingcheng martial hall.
“Heh heh.”
Gwak Eon let out a crazed, murderous laugh.
Now that things had come to this, what was there to hesitate for?
If he was going to die, he would take everyone here with him.
“Hahaha. Let's all die together!”
“Be careful!”
Belatedly recalling Gwak Eon's title as the Poison Salt Demon, Ban Yeo-hae shouted at his disciples.
But it was too late.
Gwak Eon was already scattering poison salt in all directions.
Unlike Ban Yeo-hae, who sensed the danger and retreated to a safe distance, his disciples faced the worst of it.
Sizzle.
The clothes of the disciples covered in the poison salt began to smoke and burn away.
Soon, harrowing screams echoed from every corner of the courtyard.
“Kuaaak!”
“Uwaaak!”
It wasn't just the disciples of the Qingcheng First Hall; even the wounded warriors of the Dark Dragon Gang, not yet dead but groaning on the ground, began to turn black in their faces and hands. And soon, they breathed their last.
It was a true mountain of corpses in a sea of blood.
At the horrific scene unfolding before his eyes, Ban Yeo-hae's eyes darkened with despair.