Chapter 1248
Deep within the cave where darkness reigned, an aged monk clad in crimson robes stood alone.
Damp moisture seeped from the surrounding rock walls, and a shallow puddle had formed at his feet.
The silence was shattered by a grotesque sound.
Crack. Creak.
Like old wood splitting, fissures began spreading across his skin.
The cracks, starting from his forehead, crawled down his cheeks and reached his jaw.
A dark red fluid oozed from the gaps, and within moments, the stench of rotting corpses filled the cavern.
Expressionless, the monk raised his right hand.
Then, as though peeling off an old garment, he pressed his fingers against his cheek.
Riiip.
The sound of flesh tearing echoed through the darkness.
Strand by strand, he slowly peeled away the skin of his face.
The sensation beneath his fingertips was slimy, and a mixture of blood and pus trickled between his fingers.
Plop. Drip. Drip-drip.
Each time a strip of flesh fell to the ground, the puddle darkened with crimson.
Click.
Having stripped away all the flesh, the monk retrieved a palm-sized wooden box from his robes.
The box, carved from black ebony, exuded a strange and mystical aura—as though a living creature were breathing within it.
When opened, the interior was lined with red silk, and at its center—
—lay an eyeball.
Shockingly, it appeared freshly plucked from a living person, still clinging with nerves and sticky blood.
Sssk.
The monk brought his hand to his face and, without hesitation, pushed his index and middle fingers into his eye socket.
Pop. Thud-thud.
The sound of muscles and nerves snapping echoed as he cleanly plucked out his left eyeball.
Thick blood spilled from the empty socket, but he paid it no mind.
With practiced ease, he pressed the eyeball from the box into the hollow cavity.
Ssshh.
As the nerves and muscles fused with the new eye, the surrounding tissue began moving on its own, enveloping the foreign orb.
Blood vessels crawled across the surface of the eyeball, connecting like creeping vines, while nerve bundles extended like tentacles, burrowing into the back of the eye.
Squelch.
Then, the monk's cracked and rotting flesh began to regenerate.
Starting from his jaw, the restoration spread upward at a rapid pace.
New flesh sprouted, skin smoothed over, and vitality returned as color flushed back into his face.
In just a few breaths, his visage had returned as though nothing had happened.
No—it was even more vibrant than before.
As the monk took a step forward, his features became clearly visible.
Buddhist Venerable.
The aged monk standing in the darkness—
—was none other than the legendary Holy Monk of Shaolin, the Buddhist Venerable.
Ssshh.
The Buddhist Venerable slowly opened his eyes.
The transparent orb embedded in his left socket had already taken on the exact same hue as his right eye.
"Hmm."
When he gazed at the world through his left eye, the cave walls turned transparent, revealing the landscape beyond.
The mountain ranges dozens of li away, the flow of clouds, the patterns of the wind—all became visible at a glance.
Further still, the qi of all living things shimmered like glowing threads.
The All-Seeing Eye, capable of piercing through all things in the world, was now in effect.
Hssss.
But then, wisps of white smoke began rising from his body.
"As expected... I must recover the rest of my flesh."
Despite centuries of effort—so long that even he could not recall—his body, which had reached the legendary Heavenly Dipper Body, still could not withstand the strain of wielding such power.
Whoosh.
At that moment, a masked figure clad in night-robes knelt in the darkness.
"A letter from the Same Heart Society's leader."
The masked man respectfully presented a sealed missive with both hands.
Sssk.
Though the letter had clearly been resting on the masked man's palm, it was now in the Buddhist Venerable's grasp.
Rustle.
As he read, the Buddhist Venerable's eyes narrowed.
After a long moment of silently scanning the letter with a faint smile on his lips, he murmured in a low voice:
"The Martial Soul Lord..."
An ancient memory surfaced.
The first time they had met was during an annual Buddhist assembly held by the Martial Alliance.
At the time, he had noticed a young man secretly observing the alliance grounds and had quietly approached him.
Though his appearance was unremarkable—that of a man barely twenty—within him surged a majestic qi like that of a divine dragon.
And within his bloodline, a boundless azure energy rippled like the tide.
"Just where did they raise such a prodigy...?"
Though there was no faction in the world he had not infiltrated, he could not even begin to guess where such a peerless prodigy had been nurtured.
And it piqued his interest.
The Martial Emperor's martial arts...
When he subtly provoked the boy, wasn't he retaliating with the Martial Emperor's techniques—at full strength?
He must be a spy.
If he were truly from the Martial Alliance, there was no way he could have learned the Martial Emperor's martial arts.
If his skills grow, he'll make a useful pawn.
After all, the Martial Alliance would soon plunge into chaos.
He decided to pass on insights that would amplify the Martial Emperor's techniques and observe how the boy would perform.
But when he returned to the Martial Alliance, the boy had vanished.
In his place, a rising star named Seon-u Jin was stirring up the ranks.
That boy...
Though Seon-u Jin was suspected of being a spy time and again,
he never yielded to the pressure from the senior members, carving out his own place within the Martial Alliance.
The Buddhist Venerable was certain that this Seon-u Jin was the same person who had once displayed the Martial Emperor's techniques before him.
And he had expected him to become the perfect pawn to shake the Martial Alliance...
But unfortunately, in the end, he left to join the Azure Heaven Alliance under the Bullet King, Bukgung Ryeong.
The Martial Soul Lord, you say?
According to the information the Martial Venerable had let slip,
the Sword King Seon-u Jin was actually the dual identity of Bu Jan-yang's grandson, Bu Eun-seol.
Isn't this for the better?
Bu Eun-seol.
The more he stirred up the martial world, the better. The more he did, the forces that had been suppressed under Bu Jan-yang would gradually reveal themselves.
I should use that boy to move them.
But the world did not bend to his will.
In the meantime, Bu Eun-seol had grown his martial prowess at an unimaginable speed and had even built a formidable faction.
No—before he knew it, the boy had...
become another colossal variable capable of swaying the entire martial world.
"An opportunity to directly harness the power of the Heavenly Might Star."
Wiping away his reminiscence, the Buddhist Venerable looked down at the letter again.
Though written in polite terms, the underlying intent was all too obvious.
"They intend to test the power and achievements of the old monk by using the Martial Soul Lord."
He wanted to refuse outright, but he couldn't. The Same Heart Society had provided him with much over the years.
"The leader of the Same Heart Society... Like the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade, he too is searching for the old monk's True Body."
A sudden twinge of pain shot up his spine.
"Bu Jan-yang... The aura of death he left behind refuses to fade."
The wound he had suffered decades ago—
the wound inflicted by the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade—began to throb anew.
"No matter."
The benevolent expression on the Buddhist Venerable's face twisted into something sinister, and his translucent left eye gleamed ominously.
"The ending has already been decided, and..."
Click.
He placed the left eye he had been holding into a wooden box.
"Buddhist Venerables—the so-called Holy Monks—will continue to be created without end."
As his faint laughter echoed in the darkness, a cold wind swept through.
That wind seemed to herald the coming of a great storm in the martial world.
Demon Hall.
A sacred land revered by all demonic practitioners, forged through the combined might of the Demonic Path Ten Gates.
This solemn alliance of the demonic path had one tradition passed down through generations.
The Demonic Path Grand Assembly.
Held once every three years,
it was a grand gathering to honor the heroes who had brought glory to the demonic path
and to summon the scattered pillars of the demonic world to discuss the affairs of the realm.
The highlight of the assembly, without question,
was the Four Gates Battle —a competition designed to celebrate the Demonic Path Ten Gates' unique martial disciplines:
sword, saber, spear, whip, palm, hidden weapons, poison arts, and soul-seizing techniques.
Four categories were selected to match the specialties of the Demonic Path Ten Gates, pitting practitioners of the same weapons against one another.
It was a stage to unearth the rising stars who would lead the next generation of the demonic path,
as well as an opportunity for unknown martial artists to make their names in a single stroke.
Yet for the past six years, the Demonic Path Grand Assembly had not been held.
Too many events had unfolded since Bu Eun-seol became the Heir of the Demon Hall as the Martial Soul Lord,
and above all, most of the Demonic Path Ten Gates—save for Langya Pavilion, Heaven-Severing Earth-Destroying, and Fleeting Moment Boat—had either been sealed or gone dormant.
Yet paradoxically,
thanks to the Martial Soul Lord's unbroken streak of victories, the demonic path's momentum was rising...
A bizarre phenomenon was unfolding.
"Should we not remind the world once more that the current strongest force in the martial world lies with the demonic path?"
Now that Jeong Cheon-je had gone mad and disappeared,
no one could deny that the Demonic Heavenly Emperor was the undisputed Number One of the era, and none dared challenge his supremacy.
Moreover, Yeop Hyo-cheon had slain the Martial Alliance's Star Guard Unit Leader, reaffirming the Dark King's legend.
And with the Martial Soul Lord—the next Number One of the Demonic Path, already a grandmaster transcending his generation—standing among them...
"When they are not in a position of dominance, the righteous factions have always trembled in fear, resorting to petty, rat-like schemes. It is their ancient tradition."
In place of the Demonic Heavenly Emperor, who was in seclusion, the proposal was put forth at the Demonic Governance Council, directed at the senior members.
"Moreover, since this Cult Leader personally beat the Martial Alliance Star Guard Unit Leader to death, they will not remain idle either."
"The time has come to once more unite the strength of the Demonic Path... Let us convene the Demonic Path Grand Assembly."
The proposal was unanimously accepted, and thus, the Demonic Path Grand Assembly was convened.
"—On the full moon of next month, the Demon Hall will host the Demonic Path Grand Assembly!"
News of this spread like wildfire across the entire martial world, and Changsha Prefecture was soon teeming with demonic practitioners, packed shoulder to shoulder.
Not only minor factions like the Blood Wolf Gang and the Black Dragon Sect, which had been suppressed by the dominance of the Demonic Path Ten Gates, but even masters from the Western Regions' demonic sects attended the assembly.
Their eyes were all filled with the same fervent anticipation.
"—For this Four Gates Battle, we shall compete in four disciplines: sword, saber, spear, and whip."
"Furthermore, the victor of each discipline shall be granted one wish—anything they desire from the Demon Hall."
The Demon Hall had set an unprecedented condition: the winners of the Four Gates Battle would each be allowed to claim one thing of their choosing from the hall.
"—Let's go!"
Once this news spread, even those demonic practitioners who had hesitated to attend or had been indifferent to the assembly now flocked to the Demon Hall.
"—This is our chance to ascend the Ten Thousand Demonic Secret Archive and obtain the martial arts of past sect masters!"
It was said that the third floor of the Ten Thousand Demonic Secret Archive housed not only the martial legacies of previous sect masters but also the secret techniques of the current Demonic Heavenly Emperor, hailed as the strongest of this era.
What if one emerged victorious in the martial tournament?
They could obtain the martial arts of the Demonic Heavenly Emperor—or even those of the past Demon Hall leaders.
The Grand Martial Training Ground of the Demon Hall.
There stood a martial stage, forty zhang wide and two zhang high, forged from the incredibly durable Primordial Stone Essence, capable of withstanding even the fiercest battles between masters.
The spectator seats surrounding the stage were already filled with thousands of demonic practitioners.
The first tier was occupied by ordinary martial artists, the second by elders of various sects, and the highest tier—the VIP seats—was reserved for the leaders of each faction.
"The true purpose of this assembly is to consolidate our strength in preparation for an attack from the Martial Alliance, or so I've heard."
"The Star Guard Unit Leader was practically second only to the deputy alliance leader in the Martial Alliance... And yet the Supreme Cult Commander shattered even that Sacred Sword?"
"At this point, wouldn't an all-out war be inevitable?"
The discussions among the demonic practitioners revolved around two major topics:
Would an irreversible full-scale war break out between the Demon Hall and the Martial Alliance?
And—how exactly had the battle between Yeop Hyo-cheon and Baekri Mu-jo unfolded?
"I heard the renowned Azure Cloud Flower Troupe reenacted the battle at Tianshan in a Beijing Opera performance."
"When the Supreme Cult Commander unleashed his killing techniques, I couldn't even breathe."
"I saw the one performed by the Wandering Puppet Troupe—they depicted Baekri Mu-jo coughing up blood from severe internal injuries quite vividly."
The martial prowess of Yeop Hyo-cheon and Baekri Mu-jo, two supreme masters, had long been legendary.
These two mythical figures had clashed, and though the outcome had been decided...
Unfortunately, the martial artists of the Star Guard Division who witnessed the battle lacked the insight to properly appreciate or explain the techniques displayed.
Thus, they failed to convey the true nature of the battle, leaving the martial world deeply unsatisfied.
To quench this thirst, theater troupes across the Central Plains had taken creative liberties, staging imaginative renditions of the duel.
Especially in Hunan and Hubei, renowned troupes competed to dramatize the battle, and every performance was said to be packed to the brim.
"Soon, even the war between our hall and the Martial Alliance will be adapted for the stage."
The demonic practitioners predicted that the Great Orthodox-Unorthodox War would break out before long.
Even if the Demonic Path Ten Gates had declined, it didn't matter.
Factions like Langya Pavilion had filled the void, and the Demon Hall's influence was more formidable than ever.
"Without the Azure Heaven Alliance's support, the Martial Alliance should be easy to crush."
On the orthodox side, the Azure Heaven Alliance had emerged as another coalition, while the Martial Alliance was still struggling under the inexperienced leadership of its young alliance leader, Baek Mu-seong.
If a full-scale war broke out now? Victory would be all but assured.
"Or perhaps the Martial Alliance is the one eager for war."
Conversely, it was possible that the Martial Alliance desired the Great Orthodox-Unorthodox War even more.
Only such a war could reunite the orthodox factions under the Martial Alliance's banner, rallying the forces of the Orthodox Martial World once more.
Thud.
Suddenly, the clamor around the martial stage fell silent.
At the same time, the gazes of everyone inside converged on a single point.
A man clad in black robes was slowly ascending the stage.
Between the strands of his long hair, glimpses of his melancholic yet breathtakingly beautiful eyes could be seen—a peerless handsome man.
It was none other than Bu Eun-seol.
"—Ohh."
The very air seemed to shift at his appearance.
Thousands of eyes locked onto him at once, and stifled gasps escaped from all directions.
What captivated the people's gaze was not merely his beautiful features, but the unique aura he exuded.
Like empty air that both existed and didn't, watching him evoked an inexplicable sense of comfort and longing.
—Magnificent.
The elite masters gathered at the Grand Martial Training Ground couldn't help but marvel at Bu Eun-seol's presence.
—If someone like him truly set his mind to assassination, who could possibly evade it?
Even when openly observed, he gave off an unsettling emptiness—how much more so if he deliberately concealed his presence?
Few could detect his movements.
Swish.
Ignoring the piercing stares from all directions, Bu Eun-seol made his way to the spectator seats and took the Seat of Honor.
Originally, the Martial Soul Lord's rank was only tenth in ceremonial precedence.
But in the current power structure, he stood as the third most influential figure in the Demon Hall, surpassing even the Elders' Hall Master.
With the Demonic Heavenly Emperor in seclusion and Yeop Hyo-cheon occupied with urgent council matters, and the Elders' Hall Master and other Demon Hall elites in attendance, it was only natural for him to occupy the Seat of Honor.
"Hmm."
Seated, Bu Eun-seol surveyed the martial arts stage with a somewhat reluctant expression.
Truthfully, he had no leisure to enjoy the tournament.
But since Yeop Hyo-cheon, who had organized the event, had abruptly entered a Demonic Governance Council meeting due to Martial Alliance affairs, and among the remaining high-ranking figures, he was the only one who could maintain the Four Gates Battle's prestige—
He had no choice but to fill the seat.
"Lord, shall we begin the tournament?"
Because of this, even the tournament proceedings were handled by his right-hand man, Sanghak Unit Commander Yu Un-ryong.
"All preparations are complete."
Given the formal setting, he treated Bu Eun-seol with utmost courtesy.
"Proceed."
"Understood."
After bowing once more, Yu Un-ryong stepped to the center of the stage, infused his voice with internal energy, and declared:
"I, Sanghak Unit Commander Yu Un-ryong, have been entrusted with overseeing this Four Gates Battle!"
His gaze swept across the crowd before he continued.
"The Demonic Path Grand Assembly, held every three years, has been convened once again!"
Yu Un-ryong turned slowly, addressing the spectators surrounding the stage.
"This Four Gates Battle will serve as an opportunity for the Demon Hall—and all demonic practitioners—to demonstrate how much stronger we have become!"
—ROOOAR!
Thunderous cheers filled the plaza.
The Four Gates Battle had finally begun.
Clang! Crash! Shatter!
The martial contests lasted from sunrise until the sun dipped toward the western mountains.
The sword competition alone saw over three hundred demonic masters participate, their clashes sending sparks flying.
Clang! Screech!
Every sword strike sent embers scattering, sword energy radiating in all directions.
At times, overwhelming sword force erupted, gouging deep into the Primordial Stone Essence of the stage, leaving blade marks carved across its surface.
—"The victor of the sword competition—Geom Bi of the Crippled Gang!"
By dusk, the winners of each division had been decided.
Surprisingly, the champions of sword, saber, spear, and whip were all disciples from lesser-known demonic factions—those who had never stood out before.
The sword champion, in particular, hailed from the Crippled Gang, a faction composed solely of the disabled—a group Bu Eun-seol had once sternly reprimanded. This fact drew significant attention.
The other division winners also came from obscure sects with little renown.
—"Geniuses can emerge from anywhere."
The spectators weren't overly shocked.
The orthodox factions, which emphasized systematic training across generations, prioritized producing martial artists with solid, stable skills rather than extraordinary talents.
In contrast, the demonic path tended to concentrate a faction's full resources on any disciple who displayed even a hint of exceptional potential.
Thus, it wasn't unusual for an unknown master from a minor demonic sect to suddenly rise to prominence.
—"Perhaps it's time for the martial world's hierarchy to shift."
Until now, the absolute power structure had been maintained by the Three Demons and Three Venerables and the Four Gods Seven Kings.
But Bu Eun-seol had shattered that order, and new powerhouses were emerging in rapid succession.
In response, discussions were brewing about establishing a new generation of Seven Kings—figures like Tang Gon, head of the Sichuan Tang Clan; Namgung Un, the young master of the Namgung Family; and the Wandering King, Heuk-pyo.
Martial arts in this era had suddenly advanced, and the martial world's power dynamics were shifting at a breakneck pace.
"All victors, step forward!"
Yu Un-ryong, presiding over the tournament, presented the winners with ancient weapons stored in the Demon Hall's Eight Demons Vault—
The Thunderlight Sword, Soulgazer Saber, Violet Lightning Serpent Spear, and Organ-Rending Whip.
"Now, each of you may name one thing you wish to take from the Demon Hall."
Yu Un-ryong had naturally prepared the Command Plaques granting access to the third floor of the Ten Thousand Demonic Secret Archive.
But what came from their mouths was something utterly unexpected—and shocking.
"The Martial Soul Lord's honor."
Instantly, Yu Un-ryong's eyes turned icy.
"What did you just say?"
Geom Bi, the sword champion from the Crippled Gang, infused his voice with internal energy and repeated:
"What I wish to take from the Demon Hall is the Martial Soul Lord's martial reputation."