344. Life-or-Death (5)
“Ughhh!”
“Keurk!”
“Captain Cho!”
Screams kept echoing from the rear. It wasn’t just the academy students dying, that much was clear. And yet, the absence of any cries from the demons pressed down on them like a massive weight.
Hongma-dae!
Damn it all. The Yegeom Marandan was dangerous enough, but to think the Hongma-dae had shown up too.
There was no time to wallow in despair. He couldn’t be sure this was the end of them.
If he manfully asked, Is this all you’ve got? would they give him an honest answer?
As if.
Gripping the slack Cheokgwanggeom tightly once more, he pressed forward. He wasn’t the old meat shield from the past, scrambling just to dodge and block sword strikes.
Chaechaechaechang!
He simply evaded the swords and blades rushing at him, thrusting into his foes’ vital points.
Sreuk, sreuk, sreuk.
Passing the collapsing enemies—like scarecrows with their pillars severed—he advanced.
The sight of him pushing forward was utterly different from the retreats of old. Back then, even with countless comrades ahead, he’d trembled in fear, forgetting his rage. Now, even as countless demons oozing killing intent and demonic qi charged, despair couldn’t quench his fury.
No—in fact, an even greater rage erupted from his grip.
Peopeopeopeok!
He slashed and slashed again, advancing. With every step, fueled by the belief that he could save one more life, he pushed on and on.
Sreuk, sreuk.
Wounds began blooming across his body. His martial robes had long been reduced to rags. In this chaotic melee, there was no room for elegant dueling like in a spar.
He’d long abandoned dodging every attack. He just deflected blows that would kill, avoiding vitals.
Even so, getting struck by that loathsome demonic qi twisted his guts like they were being wrung out.
“Keurk!”
An unbearable cough brought up a spray of blood.
“Captain Jin! Are you alright?!”
Ilgak, a good six strides away, cried out in alarm. His glossy scalp was now drenched in blood.
Worry about yourself.
Thankfully, his internal injuries weren’t fatal.
Struck by a Red Sun Palm and it’s not lethal.
It was a stark reminder that he was no longer the man from the past.
Time for some payback, then.
Sword aura extended a zhang, unleashing the technique in all directions.
Peopeopeok! Peopeopeok! Peopeopeopeok!
True swords mingled with phantom blades, laying waste to the surroundings and sending demonic limbs flying everywhere.
When they swarmed like this, it was perfect. No need to pick targets.
Still, the way they filled the gaps again brought an indescribable sense of powerlessness.
“Yeah, you’ll keep coming until we give up.”
The moment the mind broke, so did the body. And these bastards knew it better than anyone—and exploited it masterfully.
“Let’s see who breaks first.”
Rururung.
Thunderous energy churned in his hand. Sensing something off, the Hongma-dae demons hastily fell back.
He dashed forward one step, then another, unleashing Radiant Heaven Divine Palm upon them.
A portion of the forest exploded outward, carving another gaping hole.
Kwakwakwakwakwakwakwa!
The destructive power was enough to stagger even him, the caster. No warrior, no matter how valiant, could easily obey orders after that…
“…Damn demon bastards.”
But like emotions had been stripped from them, they filled the hole again, charging without hesitation. No trace of reluctance or fear. Worse, they plugged the gap even more aggressively, cowering the academy students in turn.
That damned tenacity had toppled the Murim Alliance in his previous life. Knowing it all too well, he ground his teeth.
“Of course… You’re just dogs, after all. No emotions to speak of.”
He sheathed the Cheokgwanggeom at once. Then assumed the drawing stance.
White Moon Heaven-Subduing Three Forms, First Form: Extreme Swiftness.
No sword qi or aura, yet it drained inner energy rivaling Radiant Heaven Divine Palm.
In that instant, the greedily charging demons flickered oddly. Space warped, followed by belated whooshes.
Ping.
Like a dam bursting, unleashing a flood.
Chwarurururuk!
The demons spewed blood and tumbled to the ground.
“Hahk, hahk, hahk.”
No matter how he suppressed it, his breath came ragged. After all that training, this was it? Was Baek Hae-gwang really human?
Tatatatata!
And those damn demons didn’t tire? They charged again without pause.
Crazy bastards.
But he wasn’t exactly sane either. Time to put what he’d learned from Master Baek Hae-gwang during the break to use—pushing through near-faints.
White Moon Heaven-Subduing Three Forms, Second Form: Extreme Strength. The official defensive form.
Sword swung at speeds rivaling Extreme Swiftness. Residual sword qi afterimages densely blocked all directions.
Chaechaechaechaechang.
Demons surrounded him, desperately swinging to breach the sword barrier—but it held.
Master Baek’s a madman.
Grinding his teeth, he reversed the forms he’d used till now. Veins strained as qi flowed oppositely. Sword qi poured out wildly, clashing with the existing barrier in explosions.
A defensive form exploiting sword qi collisions. But was this really defense?
Kwakwakwakwakwakwakwa!
Extreme Strength devoured and pulverized everything around him except the user—weapons, flesh, all of it. Even the demons’ sword qi fueled the blasts.
Kwakwakwakwakwakwakwakwa!
The sword qi storm expanded massively. Shattered weapons and explosions rippled back.
Kukukukuku.
Demons charging like arrows became mere chunks of meat.
“Keuuk… Keuuk…”
His dantian yanked viciously, like overworked muscles. Meridians and acupoints screamed in overload.
“Uwek.”
What the hell was Master Baek thinking creating this sword art? Another blood spray, and his internals finally settled a bit.
Clinging to consciousness, he scanned around.
“Shit, does the Demonic Cult not know the word ‘moderation’?”
Dozens reduced to pulp, yet more advanced with emotionless poise. How many more to kill to advance? How many?
Dudududu.
Staring down the charging demon, he gripped Cheokgwanggeom—but his strength failed.
At least my legs…
To die like this after a rampage? Absurd and unjust even in death—he’d haunt the grim reapers.
Forcing power in, his body barely moved, but qi circulation lagged.
Move! Move…!!
Forcing his dantian to churn resumed the flow. As he thrust again—
“Kwaaak!”
A scream erupted beside him. Whirling—
“Keuk…”
Second Division Captain Geum Taejong had taken a sword meant for him. Jin Sowoon unleashed Socheon Sword Technique, piercing the demon’s throat, and caught the collapsing captain.
“Keuk…”
Blood poured endlessly from his mouth—critical condition.
“What the hell?!”
“Told you, commanders don’t lead from the front…”
“Just hold on a bit longer—hold on…!”
Blood gushed from the gaping wound, exposing white bone. Before Jin Sowoon could act, Geum Taejong glanced at it, spat blood, and grinned.
“…I’ll rest a bit. Can’t be too tired for drinks.”
Before words could form, Geum Taejong shoved him away and collapsed.
Why? Why throw himself in for me? He’d have lived staying put.
…I never ordered protection.
No time for answers—demons charged again.
Chaechaechaechang.
Cheokgwanggeom swung feebly, like past Jin Sowoon. Mind tangled, internals knotted worse. No strength came.
Die here? By these demons’ hands?
Then he’d move by force.
Kwak.
Biting his tongue brought a metallic tang, jolting his nerves awake. Fading power returned; muddled mind cleared.
“…Captain’s… doing it!”
“Protect… the captain!”
“…Follow… Captain!”
Voices shouted amid the chaos, echoing faintly. But he ignored them. Decided to.
Why advance. Why save them. Why live.
No reasons. He resolved not to think.
Hesitate, and an academy student dies. Cherished sect heirs. Sons, brothers, fellow disciples perish.
So he advanced. Without pause. Reasons were a luxury.
“J-Jin Captain!”
Ilgak, running desperately beside him, paled. He’d never shown fear before.
Wiping blood from his eyes, he looked up—dense torchlight.
After slaughtering so many, still this many? What was with this forest? Or had they prepared to exterminate the students from the start?
“Yeah… Knew it was coming.”
After this much, their leader should show. They’d inflicted damage too. No endless rotation war.
“Jin… Benefactor… Wh-what now?”
Felled trees and scorched earth everywhere. They’d cleared natural formations for a final stand—their advantageous stage.
“What else? Break through.”
“Break… through?”
“For a final showdown like this, shouldn’t their commander step out for a chat?!”
He bellowed, but no one emerged from the torches.
“This is your graveyard, and I’m the one burying you! No one to boast that? All mutes?!”
Instead of reply—
Sreureung, sreureung, sreureung.
Weapons drawn in unison, echoing like an orchestra. Only glinting blades in torchlight revealed their numbers.
The greatest despair for foes escaping the asura field.
“You’re the same as ever, past or present.”
Demonic Cult tactics: drown foes in despair. Their favorite.
Cheok, cheok, cheok.
Demons advanced in perfect sync.
“C-Captain!”
“Jin… Benefactor! They’re coming!”
“Ch-charge? Charge?!”
Even academy students who’d never retreated flinched—like old Alliance units.
“But you know…”
He wasn’t.
“You think we’ll fall for the same trick every time?”
No longer the old meat shield. He pulled a signal flare from his bosom—extras prepared.
Fired the first at the center mass.
Piing—peong.
Brilliant light bloomed, illuminating countless unmoving demons. Soon trampled out.
As they resumed—
Shwaak.
A whoosh overhead. Then massive explosion where the flare had burst.
Kwakwakwang.
Without pause, second flare.
Piing—peong.
Shwaak—kwakwakwakwang.
Academy students gaped.
“What… Aren’t those signal flares?!”
Piing—peong.
Third flare. Shwaak—kwagwang.
An arrow plunged into the demon horde. Exploding tip pierced bodies; they toppled spewing blood.
Thunderbolt Arrow, perfected by Moyong Jaehwa over winter break. Not yet rivaling past Parung, but worthy now.
“Wh-what’s happening, Captain Jin…”
“Forgot how Jaehwa held the Blood Cult alone in Sichuan?”
“…Then why not till now?”
“Damn natural formations blocked it. They cleared the forest—now we can use it.”
“…”
“Tch, how much he whined to join the fight.”
Risky gamble. Endless rotation, and Jaehwa’s power would’ve been wasted in Mukrim.
But they stuck to habits.
Piing—peong. Kwakwakwakwang.
Bodies piled with each flare. Glowing targets—archer’s dream.
Moyong Jaehwa fired relentlessly at dodging demons.
Kwakwakwakwang.
After three, demons faltered first. He kept flares coming.
Piing—peong. Kwakwakwakwang.
Jaehwa unleashed pent-up fury mercilessly.
Endless flares and Thunderbolt Arrows lit the sky. Explosions birthed demon screams at last.
Hard-won victory, yet no cheers. Just heavy silence, minds on those lost too easily.
Three flares launched. Hidden in trees, Moyong Jaehwa poured all qi and arrows.
Kwakwakwang! Kwakwakwang! Kwakwakwang!
Meteoric blasts sent demons fleeing in chaos.
He sensed Jaehwa’s power waning.
“Prepare.”
Overexerted with barely peak first-rate qi—enough already. Demons would adapt soon.
“Charge!!!”
Strike while confusion peaked. Don’t miss the gap.
Hwik—thud.
Something dropped from behind—Moyong Jaehwa rejoining.
Scraping his dantian, he raised qi and unleashed on demons.
Peopeopeok.
Sword qi clashed, birthing qi storms. Cooling blood boiled; breath ragged.
Slashing, thrusting, shoving, smashing—step by step.
Demon numbers thinned.
“Uwaaaak!”
Pushing relentlessly… they broke through.
Looking around—
Shwaaa.
No more demons. Those who’d pursued endlessly now halted, like blocked by an invisible veil.
“Hah, hah, hah…”
Ragged breaths mixed with stifled sobs.
Quaaaeak—keureureu—
From darkness, acrid red eyes glared warily. Magyeong.
“We’ve arrived!!!”
“Uwaaaaa!!!”
“Waaaaaa!!!”
Mukrim’s death ground. Yet Sahwal-dan roared in unison.