Chapter 161
"Ugh!"
The flying daggers that seemed destined for Eum Wi instead embedded themselves in the foreheads of the subordinates flanking him—one in each.
"Kill that bastard now!"
At Eum Wi's shout, the Jade Prison Hall assassins surrounding Bu Eun-seol began unleashing the White Horse Whip Art.
Sssshhhhk!
With an eerie sound of breaking air, dozens of white horse whips writhed like living serpents, coiling toward Bu Eun-seol's body.
"Hmph."
Bu Eun-seol scoffed lightly as he effortlessly evaded the whips.
In that brief moment, the Jade Prison Hall assassins shifted their formation into a double-layered encirclement.
Those advancing forward shortened their whips into sword-like lengths to attack Bu Eun-seol at close range, while those who had remained hidden unleashed their whips from a distance.
Thwip! Sssshhhhk!
At close range, the whips transformed into the shapes of swords and spears. From afar, the fully extended White Horse Whips targeted every vital point across Bu Eun-seol's body.
'One at a time, starting with the closest.'
Though their tactics seemed chaotic, the truth was simple.
He just needed to methodically eliminate the enemies who came at him first.
At that moment, a crimson glow began radiating from Bu Eun-seol's left fist.
As he violently channeled his True Qi to unleash his fist technique, the Counter-Extreme Fire Light manifested not only in his pupils but also around his clenched fist.
Whooosh!
Simultaneously, five streaks of lightning-like flames erupted from his left hand.
The ultimate technique of the Seven Forms of the Fist Demon—Extreme Lightning Confusion—had been unleashed.
"Evade!"
The Jade Prison Hall assassins scattered in all directions, realizing the intangible fist energy surging toward them was too ferocious to block with their whips.
Srrrlk!
But as if waiting for their retreat, an inky radiance burst forth from the Ink Sword.
Flash!
Each time the black light tore through the air, the retreating assassins toppled like felled logs.
"Guh—!"
"Aaagh!"
Those who were grazed or nicked by the blade screamed even more agonizingly.
The thirteen strands of overwhelming Internal Power imbued within the Ink Sword melted their meridians like searing flames.
"That bastard!"
As Bu Eun-seol shattered their formation in an instant, Eum Wi erupted in frustration.
He was well aware that Bu Eun-seol, who had consecutively defeated the Great Righteous Experts, was an expert of the Transcendent Realm.
That was precisely why he had dispatched the Jade Prison Hall's elite assassins, masters of lethal techniques—yet they were collapsing in moments?
'Was this bastard actually a master of Formation Study, capable of dismantling our hall's formations in a single breath?'
In truth, this was Eum Wi's first mistake.
Since entering the martial world, Bu Eun-seol had repeatedly fought against groups employing formations—battles of one against many.
Thus, he had already become an expert in dismantling formations deployed by multiple opponents.
"Aaah!"
"Ghk—!"
Screams echoed in rapid succession.
Not a single one of them could withstand a single stroke of Bu Eun-seol's sword.
No matter what formation they used, no matter what stance they took—he shattered them all in one motion.
"Not bad."
Eum Wi, who had been biting his lip, suddenly shouted:
"Deploy the White Horse Five Poisons Formation!"
The White Horse Five Poisons Formation.
An Absolute Formation that alternated between the White Horse Whip and hidden weapons coated in Extreme Poison.
But this was Eum Wi's second mistake.
'Sloppy.'
Bu Eun-seol had faced the entire Blood Ghost Faction of the Hell Blood Citadel before.
Because of that, he could freely control his breathing and wield martial arts naturally even while executing Qi Poison Gathering.
In short, the poisoned hidden weapons of the White Horse Five Poisons Formation imposed no restrictions on him.
Sshhk. Sshhk.
With every dance of the Ink Sword, Jade Prison Hall assassins collapsed like bundles of straw.
From his right hand, the Formless Heavenly Flow surged; from his left, the Seven Forms of the Fist Demon raged.
And whenever assassins attacked from a distance, flying daggers unfailingly found their mark.
It was the Flying Dagger Art from the Precious Dagger Compendium.
'The true essence of the Precious Dagger Compendium shines in moments like this.'
The manual Tang Pae had passed down wasn't merely about throwing daggers to kill enemies.
It also elaborated on tactical applications—creating opportunities with well-timed throws or halting an enemy's movements.
"Gah—!"
"Ghk—aaah!"
Then, screams erupted in rapid succession from the rear guard.
Turning his head, Bu Eun-seol saw A-yeon wielding her pale-hued treasured sword, cutting down Jade Prison Hall assassins.
Though her strikes weren't particularly sharp, those struck by her blade could no longer move.
"That girl... She's a disciple of the Sword Pavilion?"
Eum Wi scoffed upon recognizing the sword techniques A-yeon employed.
"Hmph, a mere Sword Pavilion disciple is nothing..."
But what Eum Wi, brimming with confidence, didn't realize was—
He didn't know that A-yeon wasn't just an ordinary disciple of the Sword Pavilion—she was the designated successor to become the next Sword Empress.
"Aaaagh!"
"Guh—urk!"
Screams continued to erupt from the rear guard until their formation began to crumble.
"How is this possible?"
Eum Wi's expression hardened gradually.
No matter how formidable Bu Eun-seol's martial arts were, the Jade Prison Hall members he had brought numbered a full hundred. If they dragged the fight out, there would have been a way to deal with him eventually.
But the woman he had dismissed as merely a disciple of the Sword Pavilion was now unleashing attacks on par with Bu Eun-seol himself?
As A-yeon felled every last Jade Prison Hall member in the rear guard, their formation collapsed beyond control.
"T-This is..."
Eum Wi's mouth fell open.
In less than a single heh (15 minutes), the hundred Jade Prison Hall members had been reduced by half.
Crunch.
Gritting his teeth, Eum Wi let out a furious shout.
"Retreat!"
As Eum Wi and the remaining Jade Prison Hall members withdrew, the relentless downpour began to ease, as if it had been waiting for this moment.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Blood trickled down Bu Eun-seol's entire body.
Most of it belonged to the Jade Prison Hall members, but his own flesh bore wounds both large and small.
"I don't understand."
A-yeon sheathed her sword and approached him.
"They say the Demonic Path Ten Gates do not encroach on one another... So why would White Horse Temple attack you?"
Bu Eun-seol replied with an indifferent expression.
"Because I killed the White Horse Temple Master's grandson."
"...What?"
A-yeon's eyes widened.
How could the Ten Demonic Heir from Langya Pavilion have killed the grandson of the White Horse Temple Master?
"If that happened, why hasn't word spread through Murim?"
"The affairs of Murim are not as simple as you think."
"No need to strain your eyes over something so trivial."
Though he said that, A-yeon's expression remained stiff.
Killing the White Horse Temple Master's grandson was anything but trivial. It meant incurring an irreconcilable blood feud with one of the Demonic Path Ten Gates.
'Not only is this man ruthless, but his martial prowess is extraordinary.'
Her brows furrowed deeply as she surveyed the corpses of the Jade Prison Hall members strewn around Bu Eun-seol.
In the time it had taken her to dispatch fifteen Jade Prison Hall members, he had cut down thirty-eight.
"..."
Yet even after the battle ended, Bu Eun-seol did not leave.
Instead, he crouched and began meticulously examining the corpses.
His gaze was as serious and intent as if he were studying a masterpiece.
"The cut was a fraction too shallow. That's why he could still swing the White Horse Whip twice even after being struck..."
Only now did A-yeon realize he was reviewing the techniques he had used by analyzing the scars left on the corpses.
'Is this man in his right mind?'
Her frown deepened.
To examine freshly slain corpses—faces still warm—just to scrutinize flaws in his own swordplay?
"...I see."
But Bu Eun-seol paid her no mind, absorbed in his observations.
When he finally turned his attention to the wounds on the corpses she had dealt with, she spoke coldly.
"This is pointless."
"Pointless?"
His eyes still fixed on the corpses, Bu Eun-seol replied flatly.
"Are you worried? That I might decipher your sword strokes by studying the scars?"
"Not at all. Even if you predict the variations in my techniques, nothing will change."
The might of sword techniques varied drastically depending on the wielder.
Just as the same horizontal slash—Sweeping a Thousand Armies—would be worlds apart when executed by a third-rate martial artist versus the greatest swordsman in the realm.
"If there were anything to be gained from studying scars left on corpses, Murim would already have factions specializing in corpse research."
A-yeon spoke with confidence... but how could she have known?
That Bu Eun-seol had reached the pinnacle of the Way of the Beast—the Empty Mind Spirit Communion—allowing him to sense and perceive things ordinary people could not.
"Hm."
After a thorough examination, Bu Eun-seol nodded to himself.
'The sword truly has no limits.'
The Sword Pavilion's techniques she had displayed were restrained in killing intent, yet intricate and ever-changing.
By intervening in the battle, A-yeon had unwittingly broadened his understanding.
Swish.
Rising to his feet, he trudged forward, his soaked robes clinging to him.
Not willing to be left behind, A-yeon followed.
Once they emerged from the dense forest, a dilapidated temple came into view at the foot of the mountain.
Without hesitation, Bu Eun-seol strode past the mountain gate, where the crumbling Great Hero Hall stood in the courtyard.
Crackle.
Gathering dry branches, he lit a fire, then finally sat beneath the dais in the corner.
Sssss—
A wisp of white steam rose from A-yeon's body as she followed behind.
She had used her internal energy to dry both her body and soaked clothes in an instant.
'Why isn't he drying himself?'
Any martial artist could summon their internal energy in a flash to warm their body or dry their clothes.
Yet Bu Eun-seol, despite having lit a fire, remained seated in the corner without bothering to dry his drenched form.
'This man is truly strange.'
She had thought him a ruthless Demonic Path swordsman, one who slaughtered righteous masters in cold blood.
But the reality of Bu Eun-seol was different—his demeanor was as emotionless as a Buddhist School monk, every movement precise and disciplined.
"...!"
A-yeon, who had been staring intently at Bu Eun-seol illuminated by the bonfire, suddenly furrowed her brow as realization struck.
She had, without realizing it, been paying deep attention to him.
'Me? Interested in him?'
He was nothing more than the Ten Demonic Heir, a target she was meant to cut down.
Yet ever since meeting him, the tranquil lake of her spirit and mind had rippled with faint disturbance.
His unique aura. His overwhelming martial arts, laced with killing intent. And his striking beauty on top of it all...
It was as if he embodied every trait that would draw the interest of any woman in the world.
'This won't do.'
The Sword Studies of the Sword Pavilion could be summed up in a single word: stillness.
If she failed to maintain the serenity of her spirit and mind, like a monk immersed in meditation, her sword techniques would inevitably fall to the Lesser Vehicle Realm.
Huuuu—
She took a deep breath and activated Mysterious Art.
Instantly, her mind cleared, and the turbulent emotions dissipated entirely.
Swoosh.
At that moment, Bu Eun-seol stood and drew the sword from his back.
"What's the matter?"
"Enemies have arrived."
"Enemies?"
A-yeon blinked.
What enemies could possibly be coming to this desolate, abandoned temple?
'Ah—'
Then, an alarm blared in her senses. Only now did she detect the presence of a massive group approaching.
'He noticed before I did?'
Her extrasensory perception, honed through the Sword Pavilion's Mysterious Art, was on par with the greatest masters of their era.
No matter how deep in thought she had been, how could Bu Eun-seol have sensed them before her?
Thud. Thud.
Bu Eun-seol strode out of the Great Hero Hall.
Watching his unwavering advance, A-yeon finally understood one thing.
'There was no need to dry himself.'
His body would soon be drenched in blood again anyway.
That was why he hadn't bothered drying his soaked form.
Click.
As she drew her sword and prepared to follow, A-yeon shook her head.
"He is my enemy, after all."
Last time, she had unwittingly entangled herself with him—but now was different.
Instead of stepping outside, she unleashed her movement technique and soared onto the broken rooftop.
From above, she would simply observe Bu Eun-seol's battle.
The courtyard before the Great Hero Hall was densely packed with a hundred masked martial artists clad in blood-red uniforms.
Their eyes lacked whites—pupils drowned in pure black.
Red robes. Blackened eyes.
From a distance, they looked like fiends clawing their way up from hell, ravenous for human flesh.
"This time, it's the Poison Furnace Hall?"
At Bu Eun-seol's words, an unmasked elderly man emerged from the crowd.
"You're well-informed."
The old man's skin was blackened as if coated in charcoal.
When he opened his mouth, his white teeth resembled the grotesque fangs of a beast.
He was Jin Ja-myeong, master of the Poison Furnace Hall under the Hell Blood Citadel.
"I sent the Blood Hand Hall, but they got tangled up with some Wudang fools and perished."
Jin Ja-myeong's eyes gleamed sharply as he spoke.
"Since you recognize me, you must also know the terror of the Blood-Net Ghosts?"
Blood-Net Ghosts.
Warriors forged by injecting five types of extreme poison into their bodies through the Poison Furnace, an artifact of the Hell Blood Citadel.
They felt neither pain nor fear, moving like machines solely to slaughter their enemies—beings closer to demonic creatures than men.
"How flattering. First the Blood Ghost Society, then the Blood Hand Hall, and now the Poison Furnace Hall crawls out?"
"Hmph. Your fate with our sect was never going to end peacefully."
A deathly black mist seeped from Jin Ja-myeong's eyes.
"You will never reach the Demon Hall."
"Chattering every time we meet... How tedious."
Bu Eun-seol raised the Ink Sword, and a thick crimson mist began swirling around his body.
The sheer density of his internal energy had materialized into a visible aura.
"The road ahead is long..."
Within the scarlet haze, Bu Eun-seol's eyes flashed with a radiance like the sun.
"So let me clear the way—quickly!"