Chapter 1097
So-ho wore a dazed expression for a moment.
To be told he could become a disciple if he survived—when there was no way to escape this encirclement of death?
'He must think I'm afraid.'
Even in the face of death, the old man was trying to comfort him with hopeful words, or so he thought.
"I'm not afraid of death, Elder."
Misunderstanding Tak Il-hon's intention, So-ho spoke with earnest sincerity.
"It's just that I feel guilty for making someone like you risk your life for a mere street urchin like me."
It wasn't unreasonable to think so. The area was completely surrounded, and there was no conceivable way to shake off their pursuers.
"It's not good to cling to vague hope, but neither should you give up so easily."
Tak Il-hon, having seen through So-ho's thoughts, chuckled lightly.
"For those of Murim, life-and-death situations are as common as the rising sun."
Then, stirring his Internal Power once more, he added:
"Let's focus on surviving first. We'll talk more afterward."
Zzziiing.
But just then—
Tak Il-hon's extrasensory perception—no, his instinct—detected something.
"Hohoho."
He suddenly let out a low laugh and nodded.
"No, perhaps we should close the distance as much as possible before fighting again."
"Huh?"
Whoosh.
Once more, Tak Il-hon lifted both So-ho and the unconscious Sulgwae into his arms.
KRA-BOOM!
He tore straight through the battle formation taking shape around them and burst out of the encirclement again.
"His Movement Technique is extraordinary."
On a hill overlooking the ruined forest, a shadow watched Tak Il-hon's movements while concealing its presence.
A masked man with deep-set eyes and a prominent nose, like a Hui Muslim.
"Even if he is the Flying Demon, he can't possibly withstand this many troops alone."
In the martial world, mastery of Movement Techniques was never a measure of true martial prowess.
Even if one could traverse a thousand li without leaving a single footprint, such Body-Locomotion Martial Arts alone could never command the world.
Those who reached the pinnacle of Lightness Art were not granted the title of conqueror—only that of a mere Movement Technique master.
Moreover, the masked man's faction wielded intelligence networks as vast as the heavens and overwhelming military strength.
Though Tak Il-hon's Movement Technique was astonishing, it was nothing more than a fleeting afterimage meant to dazzle the eyes.
There was no way he could truly escape the encirclement.
And as if to prove this—
BOOM!
With a thunderous explosion, Tak Il-hon—who had transformed into a streak of black lightning in an attempt to break free—was ultimately forced back to the ground.
He had been struck by a hidden weapon launched by the subordinates.
"Elder, please put us down."
So-ho, still clutched in Tak Il-hon's arms, pleaded desperately.
He had realized that carrying them was preventing the elder from evading attacks.
Swooosh!
Instead, Tak Il-hon accelerated his Movement Technique even further.
But rather than trying to escape, he sharply pivoted, carving a wide arc through the air.
Since breaking free was impossible anyway, he took the opportunity to reassess the enemy's movements.
Chuk-chuk-chuk!
Periodically, he channeled his Internal Energy to gather surrounding branches and stones into circular formations.
Then, in an instant, light began to emanate from them.
While executing his Movement Technique at blinding speed, he had used the surrounding debris to lay out a battle formation.
Fwip!
Once the formation was complete, he swiftly placed So-ho and Sulgwae inside.
In the next moment, the two vanished without a trace.
Thud.
Landing lightly, Tak Il-hon drew a dagger with a carefree expression.
"Shall we have some fun now?"
Swoosh!
Transformed into a streak of light, he began cutting down the pursuers.
His speed was so overwhelming that those struck continued moving normally for a moment—until crimson lines bloomed across their bodies.
Only belatedly did they collapse, blood gushing from their wounds.
"Hmm."
The masked man on the hill stroked his chin as he observed the scene.
"So the Flying Demon's martial arts were at this level?"
It was said that in his twilight years, he had attached himself to the Martial Soul Lord's influence and entered the Demon Hall to live comfortably.
Yet now, he was displaying Movement Techniques and martial prowess incomparable to his past?
After a brief moment of contemplation, the masked man let out a sharp whistle.
In response, martial artists wielding poison-drenched swords descended from the sky, surrounding Tak Il-hon once more.
But they, too, were mistaken about one thing.
Masters of Body-Locomotion Martial Arts, capable of instantaneous high-speed movement, were uniquely formidable in battles against multiple opponents.
They excelled at compressing their muscles like coiled springs before explosively releasing them to achieve peak velocity.
Their superhuman spatial awareness allowed them to—
—shift directions abruptly or halt suddenly without losing balance.
And their transcendent reflexes and dynamic visual acuity matched their blinding speed.
Slash-slash-slash!
Tak Il-hon cut down another twenty masked men.
But by then, dozens of crimson Blood Lines had also been carved across his own body.
No matter how swiftly one moves.
In the end, since he was guarding the area where So-ho was hiding, predicting his trajectory wasn't all that difficult.
"Flying Demon, that man must die."
Behind the Flying Demon stood the Martial Soul Lord.
The Martial Soul Lord possessed not only extraordinary intellect but also commanded a formidable intelligence network.
What if that man survived here?
They would be left with a trail to follow, and the faction he belonged to could face utter ruin.
Bu Eun-seol. That man had accomplished feats once deemed impossible.
"It's not yet perfected, but..."
The Masked Man's pupils turned as cold as ice.
"No choice, then."
As he extended a hand, a white surge of energy spread outward, and Tak Il-hon—who had been weaving through the battlefield—staggered momentarily.
When the Masked Man standing atop the hill exerted his power, Tak Il-hon's movements noticeably slowed.
Swish! Swish!
He still countered his enemies with lightning-fast maneuvers, but the energy the Masked Man exuded dulled his movements each time.
Because of this, his footwork became tangled, his actions sluggish, and even the way his legs moved and how he shifted his stance became fully exposed.
The profound intricacies of his movement technique were now laid bare for all to observe.
'What kind of ghostly Harmonization is this?!'
Amid the fierce battle, Tak Il-hon's eyes snapped wide open.
An inexplicable energy poured in from all directions, weighing down his body as if time itself had slowed.
Because of it, the secrets of the Body-Locomotion Martial Art he had honed were being revealed in their entirety.
'The Lord's martial arts must never be exposed to outsiders.'
Even if it meant defeat, such a thing could never be allowed to happen.
Whoosh—
In the end, Tak Il-hon withdrew his signature movement technique and resumed fighting from a stationary position.
Zzzing— zzzing—
At some point, a mysterious glimmer began flickering in his pupils.
Far from victory, he now faced the risk of having his secret movement techniques meticulously observed and stolen by another.
With no room left to retreat, Tak Il-hon summoned the Dragon-Subduing Soul-Expelling Blast.
"He's about to use the Dragon-Subduing Soul-Expelling Blast! Evade!"
The Masked Man, who had been watching the battle from his hidden perch on the hill, shouted.
"There you are!"
Swish!
Tak Il-hon's figure flashed like lightning as he lunged toward the source.
The intention to use the Dragon-Subduing Soul-Expelling Blast had been a feint from the start—his true aim was to locate the origin of the energy slowing his movements.
"Bastard!"
Soaring like a bird, Tak Il-hon splayed his five fingers sharply, aiming to seize the Masked Man's skull.
In a situation like this, the easiest way out was to subdue the leader.
"Still sharp as an old ginger, aren't you?"
As the Masked Man's eyes gleamed, Tak Il-hon's movements slowed even further.
Swish!
Not missing the opportunity, the Masked Man struck.
Tak Il-hon twisted his body violently to evade the blow, but a long wound split open across his shoulder.
"One of the One Hundred and Eight Stars, then."
"The One Hundred and Eight Stars? Hahaha."
The Masked Man let out a mocking laugh.
"The era of swaggering around with just the power of the One Hundred and Eight Stars is long over."
His eyes curved into crescents.
"After all, far too many masters have emerged in this generation."
Tak Il-hon's gaze sharpened.
When the One Hundred and Eight Stars first appeared, they boasted invincible might.
But their fatal weakness—that their power was limited to specific domains, and their complacency in relying solely on innate strength while neglecting disciplined training—had been exposed.
Thus, they were no longer a threat to the Superlative Martial Experts of the martial world.
"To overcome that weakness, our family has researched a method to transplant the power of the One Hundred and Eight Stars into masters who have cultivated outstanding martial arts."
The Masked Man, perhaps believing Tak Il-hon to be as good as caught, revealed his affiliation without hesitation.
'The Three Clans.'
The factions that had consistently introduced the One Hundred and Eight Stars into the martial world were either the Jungson Clan or the Yangseol Clan.
Meaning, this man was highly likely to belong to one of them.
"So, you're from the Three Clans."
"Who knows?"
The Masked Man's eyes narrowed like crescent moons.
"You can ask the King of Hell about that in the afterlife."
Whoosh—
As the Masked Man spread his arms, a sinister energy bloomed.
What he wielded was not merely the power of the One Hundred and Eight Stars.
It was a Supernatural Power fused with martial arts—one that pierced through an enemy's True Qi Circulation and the flow of their lifeblood, melting their very flesh from its source.
Zzzing!
In an instant, a crushing light pressure erupted from his palm, as if merging heaven and earth.
It appeared as light.
But in truth, it coiled around Tak Il-hon's limbs like invisible chains, twisting his lifeblood into knots.
Thud.
Tak Il-hon had turned to stone, unable to move.
Suppressed qi and blood surged back like flames, scorching his skin and spreading heat deep into his bones.
Starfire Blood Chains.
A technique that fused martial arts with the power of the One Hundred and Eight Stars.
Shudder.
Tak Il-hon resisted with all his might, but—
Against the Starfire Blood Chains, which bound his True Qi and Supernatural Power, even burning away his very life force, he was utterly helpless.
Crack!
Then, suddenly, a small shadow burst from the translucent barrier, intercepting the light pouring down upon Tak Il-hon.
With his life hanging by a thread, So-ho—unable to stand by and watch—had thrown himself in front of him.
"Aaaaah!"
Even a master like Tak Il-hon had struggled against the Starfire Blood Chains—how could a barely grown boy, with his frail body, hope to withstand it?
It was a reckless attempt.
"Old man... get back!"
So-ho screamed, veins bulging across his entire body.
He couldn't just stand by and let a peerless master like Tak Il-hon die meaninglessly—not when he was dying to save a stray like him.
"How touching."
The Masked Man snorted and intensified the pressure.
But So-ho's endurance was extraordinary.
Gritting his teeth, he held on—just long enough for Tak Il-hon to regain some mobility.
Drip.
Eventually, blood trickled from So-ho's eyes.
No matter how great his willpower, a boy who hadn't even mastered martial arts couldn't possibly withstand the Starfire Blood Chains.
"I'm sorry..."
Even as his consciousness faded, So-ho apologized to Tak Il-hon.
"Because of us... it's come to this."
"Hmm."
Tak Il-hon, who had been hunched over in pain, let out a sigh.
Then, as he stretched out his hand—
Creak.
Suddenly, warmth surged through So-ho's Great Vertebra Acupoint, and the crushing pressure lightened.
Not only that—the power of the Starfire Blood Chains was now flowing down his waist and vanishing into the earth!
"What?"
The Masked Man's eyes widened as Tak Il-hon straightened his back with a composed expression, effortlessly blocking the Starfire Blood Chains.
"How?"
"Did you really think this Protector would fall to a rat like you? I was just..."
He glanced around and sighed.
"Buying time because your comrades were lurking everywhere."
Though he had earned the alias Flying Demon for his extraordinary Lightness Art, Tak Il-hon was a martial fanatic—one who had infiltrated Shaolin just to steal their Martial Arts Manuals.
During his imprisonment, he had mastered countless forbidden techniques, and with Bu Eun-seol's help, he had undergone multiple Breakthroughs.
Now, he had risen as one of the hidden Superlative Martial Experts of the martial world. There was no way he would struggle against something like the Starfire Blood Chains.
"Farewell."
A crimson glow erupted from Tak Il-hon's dagger.
It was a variation of the Meteor Chasing Moon style—Life-Stealing Soul Pursuit, a technique passed down by Bu Eun-seol.
In an instant, the Masked Man's eyes bulged.
Tak Il-hon's dagger, which had been in his hand moments ago, was now embedded in his throat.
The Masked Man, who had been glaring at Tak Il-hon,
Schlick.
pulled the blade out in frustration and roared:
"You'll die soon too!"
Blood gushed from his throat, dyeing his entire body crimson.
Hssssss—
The surroundings darkened, and suddenly, over forty Masked Men surrounded Tak Il-hon.
Their comrades, who had been lying in wait.
"You're finished now—"
Just as the Masked Man was about to shout—
His body trembled violently, as if struck by lightning, and with a thud, he collapsed dead.
Hum.
Then, a pale light seeped from the eyes of the surrounding Masked Men.
They had realized Tak Il-hon was no ordinary master—now, they would strike together.
Tremble.
Tak Il-hon glanced down at his lightly shaking right hand.
Truthfully, the Masked Man's martial prowess had been formidable—enough that Tak Il-hon had to fight with all his strength.
Moreover, Life-Stealing Soul Pursuit was a technique powerful enough to fell even an opponent a level above in a single strike, boasting flawless accuracy—
But it required at least eight sixty-year cycle of internal power to sustain.
Since he lacked that level of cultivation, he had unleashed all his Internal Power in an instant.
Now, he was so exhausted he could barely move a finger.
"It's alright now."
Tak Il-hon looked at So-ho and spoke.
"It's all over."
'He's trying to comfort me.'
So-ho thought Tak Il-hon was trying to ease his fear in the face of death.
"Yes."
So-ho answered boldly and courageously, his chest swelling with pride beside Tak Il-hon.
"I am not afraid of death."
Tak Il-hon, as if moved by the boy's spirit, gently stroked his head and said,
"No, I meant it literally—it's truly alright now."
"Huh?"
"Because he has arrived."
KWA—AAAAAAH!
A deafening roar erupted from the horizon.
CRACK—KKKKK!
At first, it sounded like distant thunder, but in the blink of an eye, it transformed into a sound so violent it seemed to tear through the very atmosphere, rupturing eardrums.
When So-ho raised his head, a streak of violet light was hurtling toward them like a comet.
In its wake, towering trees were flung aside like sheets of paper, and the surrounding boulders shattered into fragments under the shockwave.
GOOOOOOO—!
And behind that violet flash—
A black meteor followed closely, leaving a ring of white vapor in its path.
KWA-RUNG! BANG!
The violet lightning and the black meteor struck the ground almost simultaneously.
Then, as if the roar had been nothing but a lie, silence fell.
Within the shadow wreathed in violet flames, a pair of eyes glowed with a coldness that could freeze the world itself.
And beside it, standing motionless, was another figure.
ZZZZZ—CRACKLE.
As the violet flames scattered—
A peerlessly handsome man clad in a flowing crimson robe appeared, his presence as mesmerizing as the abyss of an endless night—a darkness so deep it refused even a single speck of light.
And standing beside him—
A woman, clad head-to-toe in a black night-roaming garb.
Paradoxically, the black attire only accentuated her beauty.
The form-fitting fabric traced the delicate slope of her shoulders, the narrow curve of her waist, and the compact yet powerful grace of her frame.
Her martial aura, too, had reached an extraordinary level—
A tension as taut as a drawn bowstring, yet fluid as running water—
A presence as sharp as a finely forged blade.
It was none other than Bu Eun-seol and Soyo.
"Lord."
Tak Il-hon bowed deeply to Bu Eun-seol.
"You came upon seeing the signal."
Bu Eun-seol gave a slight nod.
The emergency signal of the Death Soul Squad was something he had always been most wary of—a signal that should never be sounded.
When Soyo had relayed the news that it had been triggered near Jade Gate Pass, he had pushed his Lightness Art to its limits to rush here.
'So that's the Martial Soul Lord!'
So-ho, still staring at Bu Eun-seol from beside Tak Il-hon, had saliva dripping from his mouth.
—The eternal, undying sun of the Demonic Path's martial world, the undefeated commander of a hundred battles, a peerless figure whose legend would span generations...
When Tak Il-hon had once described him like that, it had sounded exaggerated, even absurd.
But now, facing that transcendent visage, those words felt inadequate.
'And that must be his consort.'
So-ho's gaze softened as he looked at Soyo.
Even the mask could not fully contain her beauty.
The eyes visible above the mask were like the deep, cool surface of a night lake, her pupils black as ink yet holding a sliver of moonlight that gleamed coldly.
Her gaze was sharp enough to pierce through anything, yet carried an inexplicable sorrow.
Every flutter of her long, delicate lashes made her shadowed eyes exude a breathtaking allure.
Occasionally, when the wind blew, a single strand of her silver hair, smooth as silk, would slip free from the mask and shimmer faintly under the sunlight.
Though her face remained hidden—
That alone was enough to imagine just how noble and beautiful she truly was.
"Child, you must greet the Lord properly."
At Tak Il-hon's words, So-ho finally snapped out of his daze and prostrated himself at Bu Eun-seol and Soyo's feet.
"I greet the Lord and the Lady Consort!"
"No, she's not the Lady Consort—"
Tak Il-hon flusteredly waved his hands, trying to correct him—
But in that instant, Soyo's previously gentle eyes turned icy.
Noticing the shift, Tak Il-hon hastily amended in a hushed voice,
"...She will be the Lady Consort in the future."
SWISH.
At that moment, the masked figures surrounding them drew their poisoned blades.
"Those bastards."
Tak Il-hon clicked his tongue, pointing at them.
"They seem to be from the Three Clans. They wield both the power of the One Hundred and Eight Stars and martial techniques."
But Bu Eun-seol wasn't listening.
His attention was fixed on the countless sharp wounds covering Tak Il-hon and So-ho's bodies.
ZZZING—
In an instant, a bloody light erupted from his pupils.
The martial world had unspoken rules that were universally observed.
Do not harm children and women who know no martial arts.
Do not use forbidden hidden weapons of extreme cruelty.
And recently, one more savage, unwritten law had spread like wildfire—
If you wish to die quickly and painlessly, target the people under the Martial Soul Lord's protection.
There were those who had provoked the Martial Soul Lord and lived.
But not a single soul had ever survived after harming his people.