Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 79
Chapter Title: Nine Seats - Mission, Intelligence (10)
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Mok Ri-won let out a long breath as he steadied his qi.
If he hadn't instinctively cloaked his skin in qi the moment the explosion erupted, he would already have been charred to a crisp like overcooked meat.
Mok Ri-won lowered his head to check his condition.
His upper garments were completely burned away without a trace. His skin had a faint reddish tint, as if it hadn't fully shaken off the heat.
The throbbing pain was likely from the burns.
' I can still move.'
He could swing his sword.
He wouldn't crumble from something like this.
Mok Ri-won raised his head.
He let out another deep breath at the sight of O Gang-ak still cackling away.
"Is there more?"
O Gang-ak was covered in wounds from head to toe, blood trickling down steadily.
His staggering posture suggested he could no longer muster any martial arts or techniques.
O Gang-ak clicked his tongue at Mok Ri-won's words.
"Surely you jest."
O Gang-ak once more wrapped his body in fiery qi.
The wounds that had been bleeding profusely sizzled shut, staunching the flow.
"Do you think I'd give up over something like this? Huh? If I quit just because my skin got scratched, why would I even call myself a demon?"
Mok Ri-won's attacks had been fierce but lacked substance.
For some reason, not a single vital point had been touched, and the strikes were consistent enough that cloaking his skin in demonic qi alone prevented any fatal injuries.
Now that the bleeding was stopped, he could fight again.
O Gang-ak glared at Mok Ri-won for a moment before continuing.
"...Right, you said you wouldn't kill me."
- I'll spare you. That's the utmost mercy I can offer.
The Little Cult Leader's words echoed in his mind.
They overlapped with Mok Ri-won's declaration.
Arrogant. Disgusting.
In the midst of exchanging killing blows, to look down on one's opponent like that—there could be no greater revulsion than such hubris.
"That's the thing with that damn star of yours. How can you be so full of yourself? Just because it's yours, you think the whole world is too?"
O Gang-ak felt his insides boiling.
How should he name this emotion?
He loathed the very existence of his opponent.
Beyond the sight of him breathing, even the mere record of his being grated on him.
If only that one wasn't there.
If only that star didn't exist, everything would have been mine.
Such thoughts refused to leave him.
Though O Gang-ak himself would never admit it, the name of that emotion was unmistakably envy.
"If not for that star, you'd be nothing."
"It's a star I never wished for. And I won't rely on it."
"Everyone says that. You know what the hallmark of star-bearers is? They arrogantly think they can control it. Pathetic fools who end up clinging to fate like the cripples they are."
The Crimson Flame Demonic Art surged, taking on a more vivid crimson hue.
The whites of O Gang-ak's eyes matched it, dyeing blood-red.
"Go ahead, use your star. I'll crush you and prove it's worth nothing."
I am superior to any star.
O Gang-ak was confident he could prove it.
"What does a Peak Realm brat like you know?"
Whoosh!
The Crimson Flame Demonic Art grew even wilder.
It expanded beyond O Gang-ak's body, forming the shape of a vicious鬼 behind him.
Crimson Flame Demonic Art, Fifth Form.
Flame Clothing God.
The feat proving the Peak Realm—a qi manifestation—was unfolding.
As O Gang-ak raised his arm, the demon鬼 did the same.
The ghost embodying his envy and rage reached out toward Mok Ri-won.
Boom!
The extended hand swept through space.
In that instant, Mok Ri-won felt a scorching killing intent envelop his body and thrust out his sword.
He stamped down with True Footwork.
'Not twice!'
He wouldn't fall for the qi manifestation again.
He had learned its nature clearly from his spar with the Golden Sword—no technique would catch him off guard just because it was qi.
Swoosh.
Inky-black qi surged from Mok Ri-won's sword.
And once more, the first form of Ten Thousand Lotuses Sword unfolded.
Soul-Stealing Swift Strike.
A sword that blurred instinct and emotion, relentlessly driving precisely calculated strikes.
A sword that tormented the soul to drag it out, leaving only the blade behind.
It began batting away the demon鬼's hand head-on.
Kaboom!
Qi clashed against qi, sword struck hand, and a momentary storm erupted.
Inky winds scattered the flames, only for the flames to regroup and reform into a hand.
Amid it all, Mok Ri-won stepped forward.
'This way, I can't win.'
No matter how much he disrupted the qi manifestation, it wouldn't defeat a demon.
It was merely chipping away at his opponent's reserves.
And his own qi would deplete faster than he could drain the foe's.
'Close in.'
Thud!
Mok Ri-won took another step forward.
It was an exquisite footwork.
Though he was clearly advancing, every motion seamlessly supported his sword strikes, blurring his form.
Accelerating further upon acceleration, sending the sword beyond control.
Adding the rotational force from each step to the process.
This was a movement technique Mok Ri-won had devised solely for Soul-Stealing Swift Strike.
Ghost Shadow Swift Step.
Swish.
Mok Ri-won's form blurred, creating the illusion of multiple bodies scattering.
O Gang-ak laughed 'Kahat!' and stepped forward.
"You think flailing around like that will save you!"
He thrust out his other hand, which had been idle until now—the motion formed a technique.
Channeling Crimson Flame Demonic Art through the demon鬼's body.
"Use your star!"
As O Gang-ak clenched his fist, the demon鬼 clenched its fist.
The qi thickened, sharpening the fist's form.
Bubbles boiled over it, forming a shape ready to burst.
O Gang-ak punched.
Exploding Fist.
True to its name, explosions erupted along the fist's path.
Mok Ri-won's breath caught. 'Hup!'
That was dangerous.
With that judgment, his body dropped low.
Without slowing his charge, he shot forward like a true shadow.
Even then, his sword accelerated.
Beyond his control now, the sword refused to lose speed, scattering light as it grazed past the fist and pounded the ground.
Five paces.
Exactly that distance, and the two men's eyes met.
A human distance the demon鬼's size couldn't interfere with.
O Gang-ak ground his teeth.
Mok Ri-won narrowed his pupils.
At last, the over-accelerated sword shot toward his arm.
"Don't make me laugh—!"
In that instant, an explosion erupted from O Gang-ak's body with his shout.
Boom!
*
In that fleeting moment, Mok Ri-won fired his qi from beyond the sword's reach.
He unleashed the inner strength he'd focused entirely on Soul-Stealing Swift Strike toward O Gang-ak's shoulder.
Slowly, the inky-black qi blade pierced the explosion and embedded in his shoulder.
Splatter.
Blood sprayed, etching into Mok Ri-won's retina.
Yet his heart was bleak.
'Shallow.'
He'd abandoned all defense, prepared to sever the arm entirely—yet it merely pierced the shoulder joint.
In the stretched sliver of time, Mok Ri-won sensed defeat.
The fiery qi closed in.
No means to block remained.
'So stubborn, yet...'
Was this how it ended in failure?
A bitter pang rose, and Mok Ri-won smiled faintly.
His eyes began to close.
That was when it happened.
Boom!
A crushing pressure bore down on the space, sweeping over Mok Ri-won and O Gang-ak.
Mok Ri-won's eyes snapped wide.
O Gang-ak let out a hollow laugh. "Heh!"
"Get up."
The fiery qi split apart with a whoosh.
Lifting his head, Mok Ri-won saw a familiar back that felt unfamiliar.
"...Sword Dragon."
"I said get up."
Deep blue qi enveloped the entire space.
Its density rivaled O Gang-ak's Peak Realm aura.
It was the qi of Namgung Jincheon, said to surpass any of his generation in inner strength.
Namgung Jincheon glanced back at Mok Ri-won.
His gray eyes burned with fury for some reason.
"No failures. Get up. We'll capture him no matter what."
As Namgung Jincheon turned forward again, O Gang-ak began cackling at his gray eyes.
"Emperor Star!"
His shoulder throbbed.
No, it felt crushed.
He couldn't gauge how many spirit elixirs the man had consumed—the qi choked the breath from his lungs.
But that was all.
"You're just another worm!"
O Gang-ak's Flame Clothing God swelled once more.
This time, it punched.
Along with it, O Gang-ak stepped forward.
As if the shattered right shoulder joint meant nothing, the punch thrust out ferociously.
Boom!
Air burst with an explosive roar.
Seeing it approach, Namgung Jincheon raised his sword.
"Who's calling whom a worm?"
Keeng!
Blue qi wrapped Namgung Jincheon's sword.
The blade then slashed downward.
No complex techniques.
Just overwhelming force.
This was the single strike he'd trained obsessively since that spar with the Golden Sword.
Crack!
Flame Clothing God—the demon鬼's fist—split in two.
"Ink Dragon!"
Mok Ri-won shot forward.
His qi nearly spent, breath ragged, but it didn't matter.
'I can still swing my sword.'
His body moved.
Enough inner strength remained to cloak the blade.
The strike fired before the explosion had wrecked the demon's shoulder beyond use.
That left one target.
'The good shoulder.'
Mok Ri-won's form scattered.
The sword accelerated once more.
Thud, thud-thud! Thud-thud-thud!
Pounding the ground to build momentum, the sword blurred into a hazy gleam.
With Soul-Stealing Swift Strike and Ghost Shadow Swift Step together, Mok Ri-won closed in on O Gang-ak in an instant.
O Gang-ak's eyes widened.
'Don't make me laugh.'
This wasn't it.
He'd sought victory over the star itself—not collapse to a pincer attack like this.
He'd aimed to crush the beast maddened by killing intent—not fall to techniques.
This wasn't it.
Crack!
O Gang-ak reached out.
He withdrew the Flame Clothing God, cloaking his intact arm instead.
This too was a qi manifestation technique.
The essence of merging with Flame Clothing God to infuse the body with qi power.
As it extended.
Crunch.
Mok Ri-won's thrusting sword dug into O Gang-ak's fist.
'...Huh?'
Before pain, the sight registered.
The blade pierced between the fiery qi-clad fingers, advancing slowly.
From knuckle joints to hand back, forearm, elbow, and toward the shoulder.
Rip!
His arm was splitting vertically.
Impossible.
Qi manifestation couldn't be blocked by mere sword qi.
It embodied his lifelong will in martial arts.
Not mere physical force, but manifested intent—why was it being sliced by a simple blade?
'All my life...'
In that realization, O Gang-ak understood.
That lifelong ambition to sit as Little Cult Leader and one day claim supremacy over ten thousand—did it still burn?
'...Does it?'
No.
From the moment he met that one, from the instant his face was torn away, his intent had changed.
It was defiled.
Flame Clothing God was no longer the鬼 craving dominion but a failure steeped in envy—and since that day, he hadn't grown stronger at all.
He'd been Peak Realm even on the day he lost the Little Cult Leader seat, yet decades later, still merely Peak Realm.
Splatter.
As blood scattered, O Gang-ak realized.
'I've regressed.'
In the time lost to envy, he had been regressing all along.