Chapter 515
"Begin!"
At that moment, the Ghost-Faced Envoy's voice reverberated through the air.
Immediately, killing intent flickered in the participants' eyes.
—To survive this gate intact, I must seize the initiative and target the heart!
Ultimately, the only way to emerge unscathed from this trial was to take the first strike and instantly locate the hole among fourteen that would pierce the heart.
Under the Ghost-Faced Envoy's supervision, the fifty-some participants began fighting in turn.
"Ugh!"
"Aaah!"
Screams soon erupted in rapid succession.
The probability of accurately finding the heart among fourteen holes was vanishingly small—yet conversely, excluding the heart, there remained three fatal openings. That was hardly a low chance.
Few died instantly from a pierced heart, but shoulders and legs were frequently run through.
"Hahaha!"
Yet there was one who achieved victory after victory.
Cheon Hwa-in.
He always seized the initiative, instantly finding the hole leading to the heart.
Of course, others also strung together consecutive wins—but they merely avoided fatal wounds, suffering repeated stabs to shoulders, arms, and thighs.
'If Cheon Hwa-in keeps winning uninterrupted, it means he fits whatever they're looking for.'
This was purely a battle of luck.
Yet Cheon Hwa-in alone winning streak after streak defied logic.
'They're clearly filtering for something. In that case—'
As Bu Eun-seol pondered deeply, he began vaguely grasping their objective.
'They're trying to unleash latent killing intent.'
The first gate used various poisons to provoke the murderous madness buried in their hearts.
The second gate fabricated a justifiable reason—self-preservation—to push opponents off heights without hesitation.
Thus, these trials were systematically making violence feel natural, even sober—a process of externalizing the killing intent buried within.
'What do they gain by unleashing this killing intent?'
Bu Eun-seol racked his brain.
The third gate merely made the hole's path unpredictable, removing moral guilt from killing. It didn't seem designed to select for specific traits.
'Sword Tomb, Sword Tomb...'
After prolonged contemplation, his eyes suddenly gleamed.
'Then... are they seeking those capable of wielding heinous demonic blades?'
Someone with an insatiable thirst for slaughter would instinctively locate the heart-piercing hole instantly.
And such individuals would be perfectly suited to wield blood-craving demonic swords.
'In that case, their so-called Sword Tomb must be a Demon Sword Tomb.'
Legendary Sword Tombs don't exclusively house Divine Swords and Treasured Sabers—they must also contain blood-soaked Demon Swords and Devil Blades.
'But why?'
Yet doubts remained.
Whether Sword Tomb or Demon Sword Tomb—if genuine, why summon martial artists to distribute the blades?
As Bu Eun-seol sank deeper into thought—
"You. Fight me."
A figure with bloodshot eyes suddenly approached. Cheon Hwa-in.
"Your gaze displeases me. Feels... familiar."
Now utterly consumed by demonic nature, no trace of his former self remained. Killing intent surged in his pupils, his face grotesquely contorted.
Having excelled at trials designed to awaken slaughterous instincts, he'd become perfectly suited to wield a demonic blade.
"I'll strike first."
Without even settling stances, Cheon Hwa-in immediately thrust his soft sword into the cylinder Bu Eun-seol wore.
Straight toward his heart.
'No choice.'
Using Internal Energy would emit True Qi fluctuations, alerting the Ghost-Faced Envoy instantly.
Nor could he manipulate the cylinder's mechanism—each hole shift produced audible clicks.
'Only one way.'
Bu Eun-seol channeled Water Essence Divine Qi to block the hole leading to his heart.
The Death God's power stems entirely from nature—its activation emits no shockwaves or palpable energy.
Clang.
When the soft sword jammed mid-thrust, Cheon Hwa-in's face twisted.
"How—"
"My turn now."
Soft sword in hand, Bu Eun-seol stared coldly.
'This one doesn't deserve to live.'
He bore no grudge from past events—when Cheon Hwa-in became a cripple, he'd considered all debts settled.
But present Cheon Hwa-in was different.
Steeped in pure malice, he killed without hesitation. Were such a man to obtain a demonic blade? A demonkin who should never exist would be born.
'Pierce the heart instantly.'
Through the Beast Path's heightened senses, Bu Eun-seol instantly located the heart's passage and thrust without hesitation.
Thunk!
The soft sword impaled Cheon Hwa-in with a dull sound, sending him staggering back.
"Ghhh—!"
Yet something bizarre occurred.
Despite the confirmed heart strike, he remained standing, teeth gritted, refusing to die.
'I see.'
The heart sits slightly left of the body's centerline.
But there are some people whose internal organs are completely reversed.
Cheon Hwa-in, too, had his heart not on the left side, but on the right.
"Heh-heh-heh."
Despite writhing in pain, Cheon Hwa-in burst into a sinister laugh.
Though his heart hadn't been pierced, his chest had still been run through—there was no way he was unharmed.
Yet, as if he felt no pain at all, he laughed and picked up the soft sword.
"Now it's my turn. Heh-heh-heh."
Gripping the soft sword, he let out another chilling chuckle.
"Even if it's not the heart, there are other places to inflict a fatal wound."
Wreathed in demonic energy and malice, Cheon Hwa-in immediately found the gap—the collarbone—and thrust the sword through.
'I can't block this.'
Bu Eun-seol instinctively knew.
The Ghost-Faced Envoy was watching him intently, and if he blocked this strike too, he'd be discovered immediately.
'I have to minimize the damage.'
The soft swords they had been given were so sharp that even mastering the Iron Cloth Stance wouldn't stop them easily.
Thud.
The moment the blade struck, Bu Eun-seol spread Water Essence Divine Qi through his body.
Not to block the sword—but to protect the blood vessels and pleura around the collarbone.
Thud.
Since his skin had already been pierced, the unmistakable sound of penetration rang out.
Cheon Hwa-in, sensing the satisfying resistance, let out another dark laugh.
"Heh-heh-heh. How does it feel?"
Bu Eun-seol deliberately dropped to one knee, his face twisted in pain.
Though he had avoided a fatal wound, he had to sell the illusion—so he forced an agonized expression.
"Now... it's my turn."
As Bu Eun-seol rose again, gripping his soft sword, Cheon Hwa-in gritted his teeth.
The wound near his heart was anything but light.
If his collarbone was pierced again? He could bleed out.
"You're prepared, I assume."
Slowly advancing, Bu Eun-seol used the heightened senses of the Way of the Beast to find the gap—the collarbone—and drove his sword in.
Crunch.
But then, from the opposite side, someone collapsed, blood gushing.
"Enough."
The Ghost-Faced Envoy raised his hand and called out.
"The ones who will enter the Sword Tomb have now been decided."
Looking around, aside from Bu Eun-seol and Cheon Hwa-in, six martial artists remained.
As the Ghost-Faced Envoy lifted his hand—
Clank.
The metal cylinders attached to the participants' bodies detached on their own.
And beneath them, figures drenched in blood were revealed.
Bu Eun-seol's eyes widened in an instant.
Every one of them... bore wounds where their hearts should have been.
As it turned out, the survivors were all those whose hearts were positioned on the right side.
And inside the small hollow of the metal cylinders, their spilled blood had been collected.
"Hmm."
The Ghost-Faced Envoy looked at Bu Eun-seol—whose heart area was untouched—and narrowed his crescent-moon eyes.
"An impressive master, indeed. To deceive even this envoy's ears."
Bu Eun-seol had initially assumed this Three Gates trial was meant to find swordsmen with instincts sharp enough to instinctively target the heart—killers worthy of wielding demonic blades.
But now, it seemed they wanted those who could survive even a pierced heart.
Yet another question arose.
If they only wanted to know the heart's position, why go through this elaborate trial?
A simple physical examination before entering the Sword Tomb would have sufficed.
So why force them into a bloodbath wearing those strange cylinders?
And why collect their blood inside them?
"Another one sent by the Martial Alliance, I see."
Surprisingly, the Ghost-Faced Envoy seemed to have already guessed Bu Eun-seol's identity to some extent.
"Martial Alliance spies are always so... skilled."
Step. Step.
The Ghost-Faced Envoy slowly approached Bu Eun-seol.
"Shall we test your skills?"
Bu Eun-seol secretly gathered his internal power.
At this point, there was no choice but to slaughter them all and erase the evidence.
Fortunately, even with the martial prowess of "Seon-u Jin," he was strong enough to face the Ghost-Faced Envoy.
Shhk!
As he channeled energy into the soft sword, a sharp Sword Qi surged forth.
'I'll use the Iron Sword Thirteen Forms.'
Combined with Deflect Flowers and Receive Jade, the Iron Sword Thirteen Forms would let him fight the Ghost-Faced Envoy head-on.
Rumble—
Just then, the door burst open, and Heavenly Human Cultists in robes adorned with eerie emblems rushed in.
But the Ghost-Faced Envoy raised a hand, stopping them.
"Take the others to the Sword Tomb after treating them. This one is mine."
"Understood."
The cultists swiftly escorted away Cheon Hwa-in and the others—those who had survived despite being pierced near the heart.
"Make the first move."
The Ghost-Faced Envoy didn't even draw his sword, merely crossing his arms with confidence.
The sword art he had used so far was the Killing Sword—a technique of extreme speed, where the draw was imperceptible to the eye.
Though he stood relaxed, if Bu Eun-seol showed even the slightest opening—
He would strike like lightning.
Crunch.
Bu Eun-seol lightly stamped his foot.
A vibration rippled outward, instantly mapping the surroundings in his mind.
'No observers.'
Scanning the area, Bu Eun-seol smiled.
A strategy had come to him—one that could turn this desperate crisis into another opportunity.
Swish!
In an instant, Bu Eun-seol swung the soft sword.
At that moment, the Ghost-Faced Envoy recoiled in shock, immediately leaping backward.
Because what had just come at him was a sword stroke strikingly similar to his own Ultra Fast Killing Sword—only even swifter.
Thwip!
Despite his swift evasion, he couldn't completely avoid it. A spray of blood erupted near his throat.
"What the—? Just who the hell are you—?"
The Ghost-Faced Envoy's words were cut short.
The flexible sword that had grazed his throat traced a crescent in the air before plunging straight toward his vital points once more.
A killing sword technique capable of altering its trajectory mid-air—the Nine Dragons Flashing Thunder had been unleashed.
Moreover, Bu Eun-seol had refined Cheon Un-gwang's Nine Dragons Flashing Thunder, incorporating the strengths of the Demonic Sword Arts into it.
Swish! Swish!
The Ghost-Faced Envoy frantically deployed footwork and movement techniques, but the blade still sank deep into his shoulder.
Originally, this single stroke could have taken his head clean off—but Bu Eun-seol had deliberately held back.
Because he needed to confirm the Ghost-Faced Envoy's True Void.
"You bastard—!"
Swish!
But when the razor-sharp flexible sword grazed his cheek, the Ghost-Faced Envoy could no longer afford to speak.
Shing!
The Ghost-Faced Envoy immediately drew his sword.
Crimson sword qi erupted in all directions, instantly transforming the interior into what seemed like a raging inferno.
A demon sword.
The weapon the Ghost-Faced Envoy wielded wasn't a divine sword—it was a demonic blade imbued with bizarre powers.
"Die!"
Whoosh!
The Ghost-Faced Envoy swung his sword with all his might.
Before the sword stroke could fully manifest, a scorching heat engulfed the space like flames.
At the same time, Bu Eun-seol's movements slowed as though he were submerged in water.
'Not the Ultra Fast Killing Sword—it was the demon sword's power.'
The trajectory had been invisible, making it seem like the Ultra Fast Killing Sword—but in truth, the Ghost-Faced Envoy had been using a Scattered Sword technique filled with variations.
'So this was his True Void.'
Having discerned the nature of the Ghost-Faced Envoy's secret sword art, Bu Eun-seol observed the cascading heat before thrusting his flexible sword forward with all his strength.
A blinding radiance erupted, as if time itself had frozen.
Groooan...
The flexible sword seemed to extend slowly, wreathed in flames—yet the Ghost-Faced Envoy could only watch, unable to move.
Though it appeared sluggish,
the truth was that Bu Eun-seol had precisely seized the fleeting instant that would sever life—making it seem slow to the victim.
Transcendent Meteor Chasing Moon Form.
The Quick Sword Form, reborn through his battle with Paeng Ryun,
had evolved into an Ultra Fast Demon Sword technique that first made its victims witness their own death.
Thud.
The slow-moving flames vanished, the radiance flashed—and the Ghost-Faced Envoy stood rigid as a statue.
Drip.
Unnoticed until now, a faint bloodline had been drawn across his throat.
His head had already been severed by the Transcendent Meteor Chasing Moon Form.
Thump.
He collapsed as if his body had given out.
Though his skill had been enough to dominate an entire region in the murim, he had become a wandering spirit in a single stroke of Bu Eun-seol's blade.
Whoosh!
As the Ghost-Faced Envoy fell, Bu Eun-seol immediately employed Void Object Retrieval, snatching the ghost mask into his hand.
'The face beneath.'
When he removed the mask, the visage of a plain, almost gentle-looking middle-aged man was revealed.
"The Benevolent Sword... Yeon Baek-ryang?"
Shockingly, the Ghost-Faced Envoy's true identity was none other than Yeon Baek-ryang—a renowned hero of the orthodox murim, known by the epithet "Benevolent Sword."
"So even he abandoned everything... just to obtain a sword."
Yeon Baek-ryang hadn't been famous for his martial prowess—but rather, as his epithet suggested, for his kind and virtuous nature.
Though his martial arts were mediocre, he had inherited considerable wealth and used it to befriend many masters in the murim, treating them generously.
True to his title, he had selflessly aided the downtrodden, spending his fortune without hesitation.
But that life didn't last.
Under the pretense of entertaining friends and helping the needy,
he had recklessly squandered his wealth until he was left with nothing.
With no notable sword skills and his sole advantage—his fortune—gone, the masters who once sought his company vanished.
And so, he too disappeared from the murim.
Who would have imagined that the Benevolent Sword would resurface as the Ghost-Faced Envoy of the Heavenly Human Cult?
"I suppose it makes sense."
Like Cheon Hwa-in, Yeon Baek-ryang had once been a prominent figure who flaunted his connections in the murim.
But once the wealth he used to maintain those ties was exhausted, all that remained was a lonely, pitiful end.
His only choices left were to throw away his life—or risk it to obtain greater martial power.
In the end, he must have joined the Heavenly Human Cult, receiving a demon sword to become the Ghost-Faced Envoy.
"They preyed on the desperate."
The Heavenly Human Cult had lured those in dire straits to the Sword Tomb, arming them with demon swords.
But why? What did they stand to gain from such acts?
"Now I'll find out."
Bu Eun-seol changed into Yeon Baek-ryang's robes, then donned the red ghost mask and demon sword.
Fortunately, their builds were similar—with just the face concealed, he became the perfect Ghost-Faced Envoy.
To ensure the body wouldn't be identified, he altered Yeon Baek-ryang's facial features and dressed him in his own discarded clothes.
He had deliberately observed the Ghost-Faced Envoy's True Void sword techniques during their fight—all to flawlessly imitate him.
"Hmm."
Having mastered the Art of Rooster Calls and Dog Thieves to perfection, Bu Eun-seol immediately mimicked Yeon Baek-ryang's voice.
"Ahem. Ahem."
Then, with a majestic presence, he strode toward the exit the Heavenly Human Cultists had taken.
'How did they open the door?'
Recalling something, Bu Eun-seol rummaged through the clothes he had taken from Yeon Baek-ryang.
There, he found a small metal bundle of keys shaped like a flute.
'So this was it.'
Inserting the flute into the hole, the heavy door groaned open with a deep, metallic sound.
"Envoy."
A Heavenly Human Cultist guarding the entrance bowed his head, and Bu Eun-seol responded coldly.
"What of those who remained?"
"They have completed their treatment and have all been sent to the Sword Tomb."
Bu Eun-seol found this puzzling.
They hadn't been pierced through the heart, but they had suffered deep sword wounds to their chests.
Yet, in that short time, all their injuries had been treated?
"I see."
Swallowing his rising doubts, Bu Eun-seol replied icily.
"Dispose of that corpse."
"Understood."
The cultists moved the body of Yeon Baek-ryang—now clad in Bu Eun-seol's clothes and masked—without a second thought.
Thud. Thud.
Surveying his surroundings, Bu Eun-seol walked casually down the long passageway.
Finally reaching the end, he spotted another set of stone stairs descending further below.
Without hesitation, he stepped down, greeted by damp humidity and the pungent stench of mold.
The path ahead stretched like an underground cavern, long and winding.
As he strode confidently forward, a massive iron gate suddenly loomed before him.
Standing at least 30 feet tall, its surface was densely engraved with cryptic patterns.
If this door were to swing open, it felt as though hordes of imprisoned demons would flood out in an instant, bringing ruin to the world.
'Is this the entrance to the Sword Tomb?'
Bu Eun-seol's eyes narrowed as he examined the gate.
There was only one door, yet it had no fewer than six keyholes.
'Hmm.'
He pondered for a moment.
The keys the Ghost-Faced Envoy carried were only enough to open the previous gate.
Meaning Yeon Baek-ryang was neither a high-ranking member nor a core figure of the Heavenly Human Cult—someone without the authority or qualifications to enter this place.
'Then this must be an extremely important location.'
Bu Eun-seol inspected the keyholes again.
Upon closer look, five of them bore signs of use, but the bottommost one showed no trace of ever being turned.
After brief consideration, he pressed his fingertips between the keyholes.
Instantly, Water Essence Divine Qi and the Glacier Thousand Streams Art surged forth, filling the space within.
Click. Click.
When he withdrew his hand, an intricate key, forged from solid ice, had taken shape.
Clunk.
Turning it slowly, a low, resonant vibration echoed.
But the door did not open—instead, the six keyholes merged back into one.
'Quite the security measure.'
Once more, he combined Water Essence Divine Qi and the Glacier Thousand Streams Art, crafting another ice key and turning it.
Rumble—
The massive gate groaned open, revealing yet another descending staircase.
'If the previous door was the entrance to the Sword Tomb... then this must lead beneath it.'
If they had constructed another space below the Sword Tomb, there had to be a reason.
Bu Eun-seol sensed that the secrets of the Sword Tomb lay beyond this passage.
Step. Step.
Reaching the bottom of the darkened stairs, he was assaulted by a nauseating stench—so thick and vile it defied description.
'This is...'
The stench was somewhat familiar to Bu Eun-seol.
It was the metallic reek of blood—the same he had grown sick of smelling during his days as an undertaker.
But this was no ordinary blood. It was the overwhelming stench of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of people bleeding out at once.
As he descended, the dim interior came into view—a vast space supported by towering pillars stretching up to the ceiling.
Squelch.
The floor was slick with a damp, sticky liquid. Blood.
Looking up, he saw long pipes crisscrossing the high ceiling like a spider's web.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
From the gaps between them, blood continuously trickled down.
The floor was soaked because of it.
It was clear that massive quantities of blood were being funneled through those pipes—somewhere.
"So that's it."
At last, Bu Eun-seol understood everything.
Why the Heavenly Human Cult had spread rumors of the Sword Tomb's discovery, luring countless martial artists here.
"Sacrifices. They needed a massive number of sacrifices."
The reason they had built the Sword Tomb and drawn in martial artists was simple—
They needed blood to awaken the slumbering demon swords.
"And without becoming Public Enemies of the Murim."
Massacring or killing large numbers of people would inevitably leave traces, no matter how secretly done.
So they had devised a brilliant solution—using the martial artists themselves as offerings for the demon swords.
"That's why."
The deep grooves in the floor at every gate—
They had been channeling the flowing blood, directing it somewhere.
And the reason they had collected the participants' blood in empty vessels at the final gate—
It must have been to awaken a special demon sword.
"Just what kind of demon sword requires such a vast quantity of blood—and under specific conditions?"
The more formidable the demon sword, the more blood it demanded—sometimes even requiring the blood of individuals with particular traits.
And the blood they had gathered here—
Wasn't it from martial artists whose latent killing intent had exploded, those consumed by bloodlust?
"And if it's the blood of those afflicted with Slaughter Frenzy..."
A foreboding thought flashed through his mind.
The name of a legendary demon sword—one said to emerge once every century—rose to the surface of his thoughts.
The demon sword, Blood of a Thousand People.
"Don't tell me... the Heavenly Human Cult created the Sword Tomb for the sake of awakening the Blood of a Thousand People."