Chapter 886
The masked Taoist clicked his tongue as he surveyed the ruins of the Ink Night Heavenly Palace.
"When he unleashes the Bloody Tears Seven Forms, an entire sect literally vanishes without a trace."
A flash of lightning flickered in Bu Eun-seol's eyes at that moment.
He had finally realized what he had been doing wrong.
'I've been wielding the Bloody Tears Seven Forms incorrectly.'
The original might of the Bloody Tears Seven Forms was so overwhelming that it could reduce an entire area to scorched earth.
But doing so could harm the innocent.
Above all, given Bu Eun-seol's temperament—
He had always restrained himself from overpowering enemies through sheer destructive force, and for the sake of his martial growth, he had avoided employing such techniques altogether.
Thus, whenever he executed the Bloody Tears Seven Forms, he had always minimized the range of his blade stance, opting for precise strikes instead.
But there had been no need for that.
No—it was the wrong approach from the start.
The Bloody Tears Seven Forms was, by its very nature, a technique that delivered death to everything the enemy controlled—even the very space they occupied.
Kiiii—!
At that moment, the mournful wail emanating from Bu Eun-seol's Silent Tomb Sword tore through the sky like a blade rending the heavens.
Now that he had fully unleashed the power of the Bloody Tears Seven Forms—a force he had suppressed until now—a monstrous roar, incomparable to anything before, reverberated outward.
Tzzzt. Tzzzzzzzt—!
Black sword qi began coiling around Bu Eun-seol's body.
The sword qi, materializing into a tangible, shimmering energy, started encasing him like armor.
Whoosh.
As the armor-like energy enveloped even his face, Bu Eun-seol took on the form of a Grim Reaper—a nightmare given shape.
"What kind of monstrous technique is this?!"
They poured their full combat power into another desperate strike.
Sssssss—
At the same time, as Bu Eun-seol unleashed the Bloody Tears Seven Forms once more, the Silent Tomb Sword moved ceaselessly through the void.
Yet no Sound of Breaking Air could be heard, nor was there any violent surge of true qi.
Only the silent movement of the blade in the stillness.
As if time itself had frozen within that space... it merely erased the existence of his enemies.
Hwaaaaak—!
The sword qi coiled around the three figures, around the grass and trees surrounding them, around the very space they had claimed.
Thud.
Maeng So, Elder Nun Hyeon-jeong, and the masked Taoist.
All three stood motionless, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.
Only when faced with the Bloody Tears Seven Forms in its full, unrestrained might did they finally understand.
The reason Bu Jan-yang had been called Fear Incarnate—
Because his blade severed space, severed flesh, severed even the soul... leaving those struck by it to crave death.
Because it carved boundless despair into their very beings.
"What... what happens after death?"
Elder Nun Hyeon-jeong, her expression trembling, asked Bu Eun-seol.
"If we vanish like this... what becomes of us?"
For one who was a disciple of the Buddhist School—
Faced with death, she could no longer endure her fear and asked Bu Eun-seol about the nature of the afterlife.
Because the figure of Bu Eun-seol, shrouded in black sword qi, resembled nothing less than the Grim Reaper who governed death itself.
Hwaak.
When Bu Eun-seol dispersed the sword qi, the black energy encasing his body vanished.
And with it, the Grim Reaper's visage disappeared.
"I see..."
Seeing Bu Eun-seol return from that deathly form to his usual handsome features, Elder Nun Hyeon-jeong's face relaxed as if she had attained enlightenment.
"Death... is simply death."
Sssss—
Her body crumbled into dust, carried away by the wind.
Exposed to the sword qi of the True Bloody Tears Seven Forms, her body had turned to ash in an instant.
"Ghhh—!"
As Elder Nun Hyeon-jeong disintegrated, Maeng So let out a scream.
"I—I cannot die! I absolutely cannot—!"
Sssss—
But he, too, turned to dust, scattering into the wind.
"You... you truly are Bu Jan-yang's grandson."
The masked Taoist spoke then, his voice trembling with fear.
"The Murim will once again know the terror of the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade."
"Why call it terror?"
Bu Eun-seol's eyes were filled with endless silence.
Now that he had unleashed the Bloody Tears Seven Forms in its true form, he could feel—with painful clarity—the same loneliness and desolation Bu Jan-yang had once known.
"Even Grandfather yearned for death."
"You... still don't understand."
The Taoist's voice shook as he spoke.
"That kind of saber technique... in the end, it summons the True Demon."
Paa—!
At the same moment, his body, too, turned to dust.
"What does it matter if the True Demon comes?"
Bu Eun-seol's voice was calm.
He no longer cared about their words.
If the True Demon appeared, or his familiars—he would simply cut them down.
"Grandfather..."
Bu Eun-seol ignored them, his gaze lifting to the distant sky.
"You must have suffered greatly too."
To cut down those who bore the Demon-Sealing Fragments, one had to deliver death even to the space itself.
Because of its devastating, horrifying might—
Those nearby would inevitably be caught in the sword qi's wake, unable to escape unscathed.
"That's why, in your youth... you killed so many innocent people. And in your later years... those stories no longer circulated."
Because in his youth, he had not yet mastered this overwhelming sword qi.
He must have had no choice but to kill countless people.
Yet the sophistication and might of his saber technique only grew stronger with time.
Eventually, he would have reached a level where he could narrow the range and precisely eliminate only his intended targets.
Just like Bu Eun-seol's Formless Heavenly Flow, which had been refined more and more steadily with each passing year.
'Then...'
But suddenly, Bu Eun-seol realized something astonishing.
Originally, it was said that when a bearer of the Demon-Sealing Fragment died, the fragment would be absorbed by the killer.
But since they were dying by the Bloody Tears Seven Forms, no mist was spreading—wasn't that the case?
"Were the Bloody Tears Seven Forms a method to eliminate the Demon-Sealing Fragments?"
Bu Eun-seol smiled faintly in joy.
If that were true, then the reason his grandfather had wandered everywhere, killing people—
It must have been to dispose of these Demon-Sealing Fragments.
"If that's the truth..."
Bu Eun-seol gazed at the traces of those who had turned to ash and smiled faintly.
This was an opportunity to wipe away, in an instant, the guilt of his grandfather having committed evil deeds all this time.
Zzzziiing.Mmmmgghh.
At that moment, a bizarre sensation stiffened Bu Eun-seol's expression.
Eventually, black smoke spread from their bodies once more, and again, it was being absorbed into his own body through his forearm.
Gulp, gulp.
But something was strange.
Unlike before, it wasn't a mist being absorbed into his body—it was more like true qi being forcibly injected from the outside.
An extremely foreign yet distinct energy was burrowing into the meridians of his forearm—wasn't it?
"Ghk—!"
Without realizing it, Bu Eun-seol clutched his left arm.
He had the patience and endurance to endure any kind of pain with composure.
Yet the agony of that force drilling into his forearm's meridians was nearly unbearable.
It wasn't physical pain—it was closer to some kind of mental shock.
Tssss.
White smoke began rising from Bu Eun-seol's left arm.
Zzzzziiing.
At the same time, the Three Divine Powers spontaneously activated.
Then, like pouring cold water over a fire—
The scorching energy gradually subsided, rapidly fading away—wasn't it?
"Haa, huu..."
Bu Eun-seol, who had slumped to the ground, took deep breaths.
As the Three Divine Powers circulated through his body, the pain slowly lessened.
But something bizarre had happened.
The energy that had been burrowing into his forearm's meridians—like the unrefined energy of an elixir—
It still felt as though it lay dormant in his forearm—didn't it?
"What in the world is this?"
Bu Eun-seol looked down at his arm.
In the past, the Demon-Sealing Fragments had never affected him at all.
Yet suddenly, they had been absorbed into his body in the form of tangible true qi, inflicting unbearable agony?
"The Bloody Tears Seven Forms."
After a long moment of thought, Bu Eun-seol's eyes widened.
"The Bloody Tears Seven Forms altered the nature of the Demon-Sealing Fragments."
His grandfather had disposed of those who bore the Demon-Sealing Fragments.
And the fragments released by those who died to the Bloody Tears Seven Forms—they had transformed into something entirely different.
"In the end, this is just another problem I'll have to solve."
Bu Eun-seol took a deep breath.
After all, no matter how deeply he pondered it now, this wasn't something he could resolve immediately.
"Let's go back."
He assumed it would take a long time to unravel the mystery behind this.
But he never could have dreamed—not even in a month's time—
That the secrets of the Demon-Sealing Fragments and the Bloody Tears Seven Forms would unravel so quickly.
Deep in a remote mountain valley.
A shadow walked along a path through densely packed trees.
After walking for some time, the sound of running water reached his ears, revealing a small stream.
Beside it stood a simple stone house, as if naturally fused with its surroundings.
No sounds could be heard here except birdsong and the rustling wind, with only deep greenery casting its shade.
The atmosphere was as deep and calm as an unfathomable abyss.
Thud, thud.
The shadow finally stepped into a sunlit clearing.
There stood a middle-aged man with a bear-like build and bristling beard.
His fierce, piercing eyes and flashing pupils radiated the commanding presence of a great general leading armies under heaven.
The aura surrounding his entire body was like the eye of a storm—
Serene, yet brimming with overwhelming power.
The Palm King, Yuk Jang-cheon.
The master of the most terrifying palm techniques in the world, wielder of the mightiest pair of hands—
Had been living alone as a recluse in this deep mountain valley.
"Still no success."
Catching the sunlight in his palms, he shook his head with a pained expression.
He had secluded himself in these woods, striving for a long time to break through the barrier of the Extreme Heaven Realm.
He reforged his body, and through relentless meditation, sought again and again to surpass his limits.
All for the sake of revenge.
"Seon-u Jin!"
Because of Seon-u Jin's schemes—
The petty, selfish face he had always hidden behind his stern expression had been exposed to the world.
He could no longer remain as a pillar of the Martial Alliance, and so he had left that place behind.
Yet revenge was the one thing he could not abandon.
The one who had toyed with him all this time.
The vile bastard who, in the final moment, shattered all his ambitions and left him unable to even recover.
The one who had pushed him off an irredeemable cliff.
To kill him—that was the sole purpose for which he had devoted the rest of his life to honing his martial arts.
"Just how the hell did you cultivate your skills to reach such a realm?!"
Yuk Jang-cheon's agonized voice echoed through the surroundings.
He had watched Seon-u Jin for a long time, had crossed blades with him and personally experienced his martial prowess.
That was why he knew—just how strong he was, just how immense his potential truly was.
"I gave up everything to kill you! I trained so hard!"
Yet no matter how much he struggled, he could never catch up to his martial might.
No matter what he did... he could never reach a level where he could kill Seon-u Jin.
"There's nothing I haven't tried!"
Seon-u Jin's potential was beyond comprehension, and his martial prowess had reached an unfathomable level.
That was why Yuk Jang-cheon had trained like a madman, even enduring penance in his desperate attempts to break through.
But it was useless.
And now, at last, today—
He had finally reached the conclusion that no amount of training would ever let him defeat Seon-u Jin.
"Even if I trained for a hundred years, I could never catch up."
The martial world did not know.
They did not know Seon-u Jin's true nature.
Just how vast his potential was, just how terrifying his martial prowess had become.
Yuk Jang-cheon, too, had only realized it belatedly—after staking his life in a duel against him.
"Even if I were given a thousand years, it would be the same."
Yuk Jang-cheon stared at the distant sky with a wretched expression.
"Because in the time it takes me to train for a thousand years, that bastard would have already ascended to an even higher realm."
Plip.
Tears streamed down.
His entire life in the martial world flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern.
There had been many setbacks, but he had always risen back up like an unbreakable doll.
But now, there was no way left for him to recover.
All that remained was despair.
"Ugh..."
His chest felt as if it were being torn apart, as if he would vomit blood.
If he could no longer suppress this rage and frustration—would he not fall into the clutches of his Inner Demon?
"I don't care if I become a demon!"
Crack.
With bloodshot eyes, he howled at the sky.
"Just grant me the power to kill him!"
The pride and self-respect of a martial artist who had looked down on the martial world all his life had crumbled.
Even if it meant being consumed by the Inner Demon that eroded his Spirit and Mind, he desperately wished for nothing but to kill him.
—OOOOOOOH!
His agonized roar reverberated through the distant heavens.
He could not break like this.
He could not die like this.
"Hah..."
But then—just as he wailed—a soft sigh reached his ears from behind.
In that instant, Yuk Jang-cheon was so startled that every hair on his body stood on end.
No matter how distracted he was—
How could he have failed to notice someone approaching so close?
"Who goes there?!"
Yuk Jang-cheon spun around like lightning.
And there, standing before him, was an old man with an ethereal presence—small in stature, barely five feet tall, with neatly combed white hair, resembling an immortal sage.
"You stand on the verge of becoming a Killing Ghost, consumed by rage and despair at their peak."
The old man's eyes, shimmering with a mysterious light, swept over Yuk Jang-cheon's gaze and body once more.
"With skills like yours, there should be almost no one in the martial world you cannot kill. How is it that you've failed to restrain your murderous intent?"
An astonishing statement.
Yuk Jang-cheon had long since ascended to the Extreme Heaven Realm.
He had reached the state of Tranquil Stillness, where he could perfectly conceal his martial arts and Internal Power.
Yet this old man had not only grasped his martial prowess in an instant but had also peered straight into the state of his Spirit and Mind.
"Who... are you?"
Realizing that the old man before him was an Unusual Adept, Yuk Jang-cheon asked with utmost respect.
"I am Yuk Jang-cheon, of the Hall of Ascending Martial... no, one who bears the undeserved epithet of Palm King."
He bowed once more.
"I wish to know your esteemed identity."
"Palm King... I see. Your face has changed so much I didn't recognize you."
"You... know of me?"
"This old man is merely someone who handles various matters in a place severed from the world. Even if I told you, you wouldn't know."
Yuk Jang-cheon could not believe it.
The old man exuded an air of emptiness, like a Taoist on the verge of ascension.
Even if the Demonic Heavenly Emperor himself stood before him, he could be felled—yet this old man's true identity remained unknowable?
"However, your cries were so sorrowful and steeped in killing intent... I simply couldn't pass by without stopping."
The old man's gaze was crystal clear, devoid of even a trace of malice.
"Tell me. Why were you letting out such a wretched scream?"
Under normal circumstances, Yuk Jang-cheon would never have spoken of his miserable circumstances.
But as he met the old man's unfathomably deep, serene eyes, the words spilled from his lips unbidden.
"There is a young man whom I could never defeat, even if I trained for a hundred years."
"Hmm."
The old man let out another sigh.
Yuk Jang-cheon possessed exceptionally rare bone structure and talent, honed through a lifetime of martial devotion—
He had already reached the perfected realm of the Extreme Heaven Realm.
Yet even such a man claimed there was a youth he could not defeat?
"Who is this young man?"
"Seon-u Jin. The one they call the Sword King."
"The Sword King, Seon-u Jin."
The old man narrowed his eyes.
A man who had built illustrious achievements in the Martial Alliance, rising to the position of Chief of the Secret Intelligence Bureau—
Yet repeatedly framed as a spy by the endless schemes of the Alliance's inner circle—
Until he finally left the Alliance and joined the Azure Heaven Alliance, founded by the Bullet King.
His reputation had resounded throughout the Martial World, so even the old man knew of Seon-u Jin to some extent.
"And you say he possesses such formidable ability?"
The old man wore an expression of disbelief.
"From what I know, Seon-u Jin was neither a figure of the Three Realms, nor of any special bloodline. Nor was he one of the One Hundred and Eight Stars?"
Yuk Jang-cheon furrowed his brow.
Now that he thought about it—
This old man didn't seem like someone who had secluded himself from worldly affairs. Rather, he appeared intimately familiar with the workings of the Martial World.
"Are you perhaps a member of some secret faction?"
Yuk Jang-cheon's eyes widened as he shouted.
"You can kill me, but you will not humiliate me!"
"Do not misunderstand. There is a reason I am somewhat knowledgeable about the affairs of the Martial World."
"Enough! Leave at once!"
A crimson energy surged violently from Yuk Jang-cheon's body.
His unrestrained killing intent spilled forth, materializing so densely that it became visible to the naked eye.
'Troublesome.'
The old man stroked his chin.
For a master like Yuk Jang-cheon to lose control of his rage and despair—had he truly fallen to an Inner Demon?
'And if I leave him as he is...'
Yuk Jang-cheon was already in the throes of an Inner Demon.
If left unchecked—
He would inevitably succumb to slaughterous madness and wrath.
Becoming a Killing Ghost and the Great Killing Star—who would massacre countless lives.
'What to do...'
The old man had been in the midst of discreetly handling various matters before finally preparing to return home.
But sensing this profound, destiny-disrupting killing intent—and hearing those anguished cries—
He had followed the sound of despair to this place.
'No choice, then.'
The old man made his decision.
'This, too, must be fate.'
Then he spoke to Yuk Jang-cheon.
"You are neither evil nor wicked in nature, yet your temperament is stubborn, and your obsessions run deep."
The old man sighed heavily.
"I had resolved to no longer interfere in the affairs of the Martial World. But this, too, is a bond. I shall bestow upon you my family's Great Art."
"Great Art?"
"Receive it, and you will become many times stronger than you are now. No martial art, no force, will be able to destroy your body."
The old man took a deep breath before asking:
"Do you have the courage to accept such an art?"
"Hahaha."
Yuk Jang-cheon let out a faint laugh.
"You offer to grant my lifelong wish—who in this world would refuse?"
"Think carefully. This may be a decision you cannot undo."
"Listen. I entered the Martial World at fifteen. Since then, I have felled countless formidable foes, organized the Nine Heavens Society, and commanded ten thousand martial artists."
Yuk Jang-cheon spoke with pride brimming in his expression.
"And after becoming the Hall Master of the Hall of Martial Ascension, I endured a decade of schemes and treachery—all to one day rise as the Martial Alliance Leader. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"..."
"I am no greenhorn of the Martial World, old man."
Yuk Jang-cheon's eyes burned with killing intent.
"Do you think I don't know that there are no unwarranted favors in the Martial World? That no benefit comes without a price?"
The old man gave a faint nod.
"Indeed."
Then he calmly explained:
"You harbor too deep a heart-fire. You have already reached a point of no return."
The old man shook his head.
"For now, you endure—but soon, your madness will worsen. And in the end, you will become a Killing Ghost who bathes the world in blood."
"Is that so?"
Yuk Jang-cheon was not particularly surprised.
He, too, was a martial grandmaster.
No one knew his own body better than himself.
Though he suppressed his despair and rage now, he had long sensed it—
His spirit and mind had already collapsed.
"So, you mean to kill me before the Slaughter Frenzy takes hold?"
"I offer you benevolence. But as you said—nothing in this world comes without cost."
"What price must I pay?"
"Your life."
The old man clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"If I were to perform my family's Great Art on an ordinary man, he would not last a single day before perishing. But for a martial grandmaster like you, with such a refined physique... you may endure half a month."
"Then—"
"After that, your body will be utterly ruined. Not even a Great Luo Immortal could save you."
"Half a month."
A faint light flickered in Yuk Jang-cheon's eyes.
Half a month as an invincible martial artist—
An ordinary warrior would surely seek out the Demonic Heavenly Emperor or the Righteous Heavenly Emperor, slay them, and etch his name into eternity.
But Yuk Jang-cheon was different.
Seon-u Jin.
He thought only of killing that man.