#49. A First-Rate Warrior Peering into the Darkness (2)
If one had to name the cause of the Righteous-Demonic Great War's defeat, there were countless possibilities, but the most fatal was undoubtedly "demonic qi."
The myriad demonic arts stemming from the Heavenly Demon Scripture, the foundation of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult. The unique demonic qi they emitted was far more lethal to those assaulted by it than to the practitioners themselves.
The only counters to demonic qi were profound Taoist virtue or innate qi. But over five hundred years of change, the martial world—mistaking deep mental cultivation for the sorcery of unorthodox Daoist sects—had fixated solely on techniques over virtue, and inner energy over innate qi.
And the result? The downfall of the righteous martial world.
Weak demonic qi could be expelled with vast inner energy, but the moment that balance shattered, it devoured the body in an instant. Demonic qi was more lethal than any poison. With no specific antidote, the only option was to purge it using one's own bodily strength.
"At this rate, he'll die."
Setting aside his wounds, he had no energy left to drive out the demonic qi right now. The best solution that came to mind was heading to Wolhyang's tomb to cleanse himself with innate qi—but even the slightest movement risked fatal internal shock.
He had the Fire Fox's inner core on hand, but feeding it to someone so depleted would melt his organs outright.
"Is there no way?"
He wanted to save him somehow. He wanted to offer true solace to Moyong Seol, who had sought him out on her darkest nights. Even if that future hadn't arrived yet—for him, it was the past—he hoped it could bring her comfort.
"Hm?"
At that moment, the Crimson Phoenix Ring hanging at his right side—the former Heavenly Demon Supreme Ring—began to tremble faintly.
Having no idea what it did, he'd simply chiseled off the inscription "Heavenly Demon Supreme Ring" inside and kept it. Strangely, the Crimson Phoenix Ring was now quivering subtly, drawing in strands of Moyong Sangwon's demonic qi.
Only then did he realize its function. No matter how much inner energy he'd poured into it before, the Crimson Phoenix Ring had never reacted—except to demonic qi.
Slowly, he channeled his inner energy into the Crimson Phoenix Ring. Its shuddering intensified, gradually pulling the demonic qi permeating Moyong Sangwon's body.
He worried the drawn-in demonic qi might poison him instead, but fortunately, it only absorbed and sealed it away without exhaling it back out.
"Ptooey."
How much time passed? Moyong Sangwon vomited a fountain of dead, demonic-qi-tainted blood.
"Phew."
Relief washed over him as color slowly returned to the man's face. Thankfully, all the demonic qi that had infested his body was gone. But with his energy still so faint, he couldn't let Moyong Sangwon move carelessly yet.
"He'll need to recuperate here for a while... but right now, no elixir to restore his strength..."
Rifling through his mental catalog of famed elixirs, he searched for something suitable, but the nearest one was six days' journey away.
"Too risky to fetch a physician yet."
With his eyes fluttering open and shut intermittently, Moyong Sangwon could expire at any moment. Leaving to brew medicine might mean returning to a corpse.
Just then, Moyong Sangwon stirred, his voice clearer now as he tried to convey his will.
"I... I have a request..."
Seeing him try to lift his head, Jin Sowoon spoke in alarm.
"Stay still for now. Moving recklessly could worsen your condition."
"No... I'm done for anyway..."
He clamped the patient's mouth shut. Conserving even a scrap of energy was best right now.
"At least I have this."
He drew a dagger from his bosom. Honed sharp for occasional field use, he slashed his palm in one stroke.
Most of the elixirs he'd consumed had been converted to inner energy via the Tae-eul True Scripture. Yet the sheer volume meant traces lingered in his body—refined, toxin-free, and safe to share.
"Please live. If you die, she'll have nowhere to lean on in her hardest times."
With desperate resolve, he squeezed the blood from his hand.
# Moyong Sangwon, contemplating his end, reflected on the past.
He had talent and passion for martial arts, but compared to his sister, his perpetually frail son Moyong Jaehwa had always been his sore spot.
They'd fed him countless elixirs, but his innate constitution never changed, even as his inner energy grew.
Then a famed physician invited by the Murim Alliance examined Jaehwa's pulse and tsked that he'd been given elixirs mismatched to his body. For a male frame lacking fire qi, harmony was impossible—fire-rich elixirs would forge a body of unparalleled ferocity.
They scoured everywhere for fire elixirs, sending Jaehwa out too, but with the Murim Academy exam looming, supplies had dried up.
Then came solid word of a Fire Fox sighting on Hwang Mountain—Moyong Sangwon set out personally.
With two escorts, he entered Hwang Mountain where the Fire Fox had been spotted. After weeks camping in the wilds, they cornered and extracted its inner core.
Just as his worries lifted, mysterious assailants struck.
At first, he dismissed them as small fry after the core. But...
What the hell is this martial art?!
Their chaotic techniques diverged from Central Plains styles, laced with a body-eating energy like poison. Watching his escorts spew blood and drop dead, death loomed for the first time.
He fled desperately to this nameless mountain, only to be cornered at a thousand-zhang cliff.
"Who the hell are you?! Do you even know who I am?!"
He tried talking to glean info, but they attacked silently. In the end, he hurled himself off the cliff, succumbing below to whatever they'd poisoned him with.
How many days passed like that?
Father, I'm worried. Why not stay home?
His daughter's poignant face as he left the clan surfaced. He'd laughed off her fretting—she was grown, nearly wed—but now he'd pay any price for one more glimpse.
As his mind faded, a figure descended the valley on a rope. Rifling his bosom, it found the Fire Fox core—and then his daughter's face flashed, and he blurted his clan name, a fatal mistake.
He sensed his end.
Foolish... to court death like this.
The Fire Fox core was among the world's top ten elixirs. A warrior scaling this cliff wouldn't covet it? And knowing he was Moyong clan? No mercy then—better to devour it himself for power than return it.
My folly sealed my doom. Forgive me, Seol-ah... I won't see you again.
As he closed his eyes, the man began stripping him.
At least let me go with dignity! What use are these rags to you?!
His cries emerged as mere "Ugh... ugh..."
Then, as the youth touched his mid-abdomen, the stifling energy began ebbing from his body—through pores, organs, spewing from his mouth.
Ptooey!
With the poison gone, his mind cleared.
What... what is this?
Moyong Sangwon stared at the suspicious youth—no, a righteous hero aflame with chivalry, unconcerned by the core. Youthful yet resolute and manly, with a harmonious feminine grace.
The youth eyed the core, then him. Moyong paled, realizing: some poison lingered, absorbed internally—fire-rich core would be oil on flames.
Thankfully, the youth set it aside, gauging the climb back up.
Hope flickered briefly, but this cliff? Carrying him? Impossible. Round trips for treatment? Futile.
Resignation settled.
I'm done here. If only my last words reach my daughter... and son...
Gathering strength, he spoke.
"I... I have a request..."
Before he finished, the youth shook his head.
"Stay still. Moving could worsen things."
"No, I'm..."
The youth covered his mouth, finger to lips—silence.
Deliver my last words!
Frustration mounted, but he lacked strength to protest. The youth drew a dagger, slashed his palm, and pressed the flowing blood to Moyong's lips.
Who... is this man? Risking for a stranger...
He recalled a tale: a frail father near death, child buying time for the physician by slicing a finger for blood. He'd dismissed it as filial exaggeration.
But the blood trickling in warmed his body, vitality surging.
The legend was true?
The youth's voice whispered: "Please live. If you die, she'll have nowhere to lean on in her hardest times."
He couldn't grasp the words, but the youth's desperate resolve to save him was clear.
# As Jin Sowoon fed his blood, he realized his mistake.
Should've collected the blood first.
Martial artists obsessed over elixirs. In the past, even demons boiled and ate those who'd consumed them.
If Moyong Sangwon learned his blood brimmed with elixir essence...
Nah, no way... He's still the Moyong clan young lord...
Jin Sowoon shook off the nagging doubts.