The Heavenly Demon Goes to See the Plum Blossoms (14)

It does not reach. It cannot reach. No matter how I swing my sword. No matter how skilled I become at wielding vast amounts of demonic qi. Even when I display the very best I can muster now, my blade fails to touch the one standing before me.

Why? The sword I now possess is by no means lacking. Having gathered the life force of the entire mountain and offered it as tribute, I have already surpassed the wall that once blocked me and reached what lies beyond. I should stand on equal footing with those legendary figures revered throughout Murim’s history. So how is it that I cannot cut down the woman before me?

Just what realm does this woman occupy? What scenery does she behold that she looks down upon me with such contempt?

The female martial artist who had only been parrying my attacks suddenly steps forward. So she finally intends to strike. Come, then. Let your Heavenly Demon Divine Fist shatter my sword. I overlay demonic qi upon my blade. If she means to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠receive it with her fist, I will cleave her arm in two. With that resolve, I swing.

The fist the woman thrusts out looks deceptively light. The inner energy contained within is not great, and the motion itself is so casual that it seems little more than a probing strike. The moment I see that fist, I feel certain of victory. Such a feeble technique could never pierce my sword.

Yet the outcome is different.

The instant her fist touches my blade, the demonic qi gathered upon it scatters and the sword is sent flying. Why? Because I had not anticipated failure, my reaction is slow. There is no time to recover the deflected blade. At this rate, I will have no choice but to take the blow.

In desperation I layer protective qi over my body and watch the fist hurtling toward me. A sense of déjà vu washes over me. I have seen this fist before. Where? The question is unnecessary. Only one face rises in my mind as I behold the technique the woman unleashes.

The Heavenly Demon. Baek Hwaryeong.

Yes. This fist is unmistakably the same as the one that accursed woman used.

BOOM!

When I open my eyes again, the rubble of a building lies piled atop me. So I was struck by the fist and driven into this place. She held back her strength. Had she wished, she could have inflicted a fatal wound at any moment, yet she chose only to deliver impact. What angers me most is that I understand exactly why she restrained herself. She was making an example of me. Because I cannot properly control my own power, she is scolding me and showing me the difference.

How arrogant. Just like that damned Heavenly Demon.

Shoving aside the debris, I rise. The woman who sent me flying stands in the same spot, her face now visible.

“What in the world are you?”

How can an outsider wield a fist so similar to the Heavenly Demon’s? When I voice the question, she lets out a derisive snort, clasps her hands behind her back, and speaks in a leisurely tone.

“This seat is Mint Choco Pine… Ah, damn it.”

She abruptly swallows the rest of her introduction, curses, and changes tack.

“A name you have no need to know.”

Hah. So even giving her name to me is beneath her? Filthy Demonic Cult bitch. It is certain now—she was taught by the Heavenly Demon. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Every single thing she does mirrors that woman. Even the fist she uses is the same. The technique this female martial artist employs is endlessly similar to the Heavenly Demon’s fist I once witnessed. In some ways, it could even be called more refined. Unlike the Heavenly Demon, who shattered everything with overwhelming inner energy, this woman knows how to produce great results with minimal force.

…Wait. If this woman is truly the Heavenly Demon’s disciple, is it possible for her to have reached a higher level than the Heavenly Demon herself? No matter how exceptional her talent, she could never surpass the Heavenly Demon and attain a greater realm in such a short time. The Heavenly Demon is a genius who appears in Murim’s history only once in an age. Someone surpassing him is impossible.

It is absurd, yet… what if? What if the woman before me is the true Heavenly Demon? My mortal enemy? What if, for some reason, she has taken residence in a frail body and now stands before me?

Once the thought occurs, I examine her face again. There are more differences than similarities to the Heavenly Demon I remember, yet one single feature is identical. Those indifferent, arrogant black eyes. Why have I never noticed them until now?

Heavenly Demon! Was driving the Hwasan Sect to the brink of annihilation not enough for you? Must you trample even our revenge before your heart is satisfied?!

Ah, I see. So that is why you left me alive. To grant me despair. To impress upon me that no matter how desperately we struggle, we can only ever remain beneath you.

Laughter escapes me. If one thinks about it rationally, the notion is ridiculous. Why would the Heavenly Demon, who contends for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the title of the strongest under heaven, pretend to be merely first-class? Why would she, who possesses the power to destroy everything, masquerade as an outsider and visit Hwasan? My speculation is riddled with holes. Yet none of it matters anymore.

Yes. What does it matter? Whether she is the Heavenly Demon or not, she is clearly someone close to the Heavenly Demon. If I sever this woman’s head, I can carve the name of Hwasan into the Heavenly Demon’s memory. That alone is enough.

I feel the demonic qi within me seethe. My thoughts fracture one after another. My reason is gradually being devoured. The faces of the elders I just engraved in my mind vanish. The face of the sect leader, my benefactor, disappears. The faces of the junior disciples who sacrificed themselves in my stead fade away. What fills the void is the roar of demonic qi. The cry to seize and slaughter the enemy before me is a divine oracle from the heavens, the voices of those in the underworld entrusting me with their plea.

Releasing the control I had desperately maintained over the demonic qi, I let it dye the entire grounds of the Hwasan Sect. I should have done this from the beginning. Why did I ever try to restrain myself?

“Heavenly Demon! Leader of the Demonic Cult! Enemy of the righteous sects! I have waited only for the day I could kill you!”

The Heavenly Demon’s face begins to rot at my cry. Haha. She is afraid! She is terrified by this overwhelming quantity of demonic qi!

“Hwasan’s revenge will finally be fulfilled here!”

I hurl away the sword in my hand. A sword is unnecessary to me now. Everything around me can become my blade, so why would I need one? When I condense demonic qi into the shape of a sword and grasp it, satisfaction wells up within me.

“Prepare to die! Ready yourself to have the name of Hwasan carved into your soul! There is no victory or defeat in this place—only life and death! Raise your fists, Heavenly Demon!”

The Heavenly Demon, who had been glaring at me with furrowed brows, listens in silence to my shouting before speaking in an indifferent voice.

“How dull.”

*

I want to put my pipe in my mouth. I never imagined that the mood, which had been tolerable until just moments ago, would turn this cold. Foolish man. How ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠many times did I tell you? I shouted again and again that you must fight as a martial artist! I even personally taught you how to handle power to help you. Yet how could you abandon your humanity and become a beast? Because you glimpsed the shadow of your enemy in my fist? Because you became convinced that the Heavenly Demon you had resented your entire life was me, and thus could no longer hold onto your reason? Has your rage grown so vast, so immense, that even restraining yourself has become impossible?

It is no longer possible to ask you anything. You have already become a beast. Everything that comes from your mouth is no different from a dog’s barking.

You said you wished to carve the name of Hwasan into me. Very well. At the very least, your own name has been carved into me. The end of a foolish man who became a beast, consumed by hatred.

I look upon the Hwasan Sect Leader who has forged a sword from demonic qi. There is no reason left in his eyes as he grips the surging violet demonic qi. He probably does not even realize how sickeningly thick the scent of blood is wafting from him right now.

“Come, beast. I shall slaughter you.”

The Hwasan Sect Leader grits his teeth at my words and creates several more swords around him. So he intends to reproduce the Flying Sword Technique with demonic qi. Very well. That is not a bad idea. However, there is something you are mistaken about. The reason the Flying Sword Technique is threatening lies solely in the fact that a martial artist who has reached the appropriate realm wields it. Imagine the swords wielded by the Sword Immortal multiplying in number. Swords whose trajectories cannot even be perceived increasing in count—how terrifying that would be. Yet the swords the Hwasan Sect Leader wields are not so threatening. The reason he appears strong now is simply because he possesses an overwhelmingly vast amount of inner energy. It is not because the realm of his sword is lofty. Therefore, even if he blindly attempts to use the Flying Sword Technique, it will only be shattered.

With a single punch I destroy every sword he has swung, then advance. The swords the Hwasan Sect Leader creates gradually multiply. From one to four. From four to ten. From ten to dozens, threatening me. So what? The Hwasan Sect Leader lacks the ability to control all those swords. A fool who cannot even properly wield the single sword in his own hand could never manipulate dozens. The swords are nothing more than frenzied foot soldiers that have multiplied wildly; dealing with them is merely troublesome.

Once more I shatter the swords blocking my path and see the Hwasan Sect Leader behind them layering demonic qi onto his own blade. He stacks sword qi upon sword qi, gradually increasing the density of the sword forged from demonic qi. What had been a pale violet at first is darkening, staining black. These Flying Swords were bait, and his true aim was to send himself flying with that sword? He wishes to erase my very existence while I still live. The power contained within is certainly intense, yet it is insufficient to move me. I have recently experienced a nightmare of wondrous power. The wave of that being bearing the title of god was incomparably more threatening than anything you are preparing. Compared to the awe I felt then, the sword strike you are readying is merely passable.

I step forward, forcing the charging swords to retreat, and gather strength in my legs. When the Hwasan Sect Leader thrusts his sword, a violet sword qi surges toward me like a tidal wave. Just before the undulating wave of sword qi reaches me, I thrust out my fist. A hole opens in the center of the wave, and the condensed demonic qi bursts outward, scattering in all directions. The aftermath of the fist does not end there. The force continues forward, strikes the Hwasan Sect Leader, bursts through his body, and only stops after blasting away the cliff of the rocky mountain behind him.

The violet demonic qi that had gathered around the Hwasan Sect Leader loses its center and disperses into the sky. When I raise my head and look around, pale violet inner energy leaked from the Hwasan Sect Leader has spread across the entire mountain. There is nowhere on Hwasan that remains untouched by the violet hue. It is as though plum blossoms have bloomed across the entire mountain. Yet nowhere can the fragrance of plum blossoms be felt. All that can be sensed is the scent of blood that had clung to the Hwasan Sect Leader’s demonic qi. That smell does not suit this splendid scenery. Shall I cover it with something else?

I draw a mental image according to principle. What I hold in my heart is the scenery of a plum tree I saw in my childhood. One of the few beautiful memories from my youth. The plum blossoms engraved within it were truly fragrant. I overlay my mental image upon the Hwasan Sect Leader’s. It is not a difficult task. Though the image he projected is dense, it is not firm. Shaking it and covering it with my own is exceedingly simple.

The repulsive odor gradually fades, and the fragrance of plum blossoms envelops Hwasan.