The Qi Arts Master Chapter 53
Tian Ailang arrived at the camp far faster than expected, thanks to his unsparing expenditure of inner power. The sight that greeted him was one of utter pandemonium. Flames licked at tents in every direction, soldiers milled about in chaos, and a great many lay already dead.
Demonic cultists? As Tian Ailang took stock of the situation, his qi sense picked up far more strands of demonic energy than he'd anticipated, scattered sporadically around him. Then, beyond the tents at the camp's edge, he felt a familiar aura mingled with an unimaginable storm of demonic qi. A foreboding chill gripped him, and he raced toward it without hesitation.
On the way, he dispatched any cultists he encountered with Finger Thrust Strikes, rendering them combat-ineffective as efficiently as possible. He ignored those who managed to dodge.
What is this? This unease... Tian Ailang hurried toward the source of that colossal demonic presence.
"Kyaaak!" A woman's scream pierced the air. It came from the same spot as the overwhelming demonic qi, so he didn't hesitate.
Upon reaching his goal, he saw someone kneeling, hands braced against the ground. The area was littered with traces of battle, thick with ominous smoke. Tian Ailang gathered air into his palm using his inner qi, compressing it densely. In an instant, the oxygen around him thinned.
With a sweeping gesture, he hurled the compressed air at the smoke. Whoooosh— The smoke was sucked in and blown far toward the mountainside. As it cleared, Tian Ailang spotted a figure collapsing to the ground.
"Sogeol!" He rushed over in a heartbeat and checked on the fallen Song Sogeol. Turning her prone body, he cradled her. Inner power was leaking steadily from her, and as it depleted, her essential qi began to ebb away as well.
Tian Ailang urgently pressed his hand to her chest and infused his own inner power. He could have directed it straight to her dantian, but right now, he needed to stem the loss from her middle and upper dantians. Especially the upper one—if it suffered severe damage, she could end up an idiot or dead. Time was critical.
"Sogeol! What happened?! How did you end up here...?!" Tian Ailang scooped her up and dashed off in search of Chanho. He figured Chanho would be with Ju Wonjang, and they could summon the Divine Physician. Surely the man could provide some answer. It was his best hope right now.
As he moved, Tian Ailang continuously poured inner qi into Song Sogeol's body without pause. Her loosened hair and the swell of her chest rising above her thin armor didn't register. He only prayed she would survive.
A horde of cultists blocked the path to Ju Wonjang's large command tent, where everyone had been drinking together. Tian Ailang kicked their heads aside. No direct blows were needed; the massive inner power unleashed from his toes alone was enough to overwhelm them.
Crack! Crack! His strikes were a blur, and the cultists' heads exploded on impact, killing them instantly. Tian Ailang sped past and shouted urgently.
"Chanho!"
Chanho had dozed off, drunk for the first time in ages when he could truly relax. Back in the day, he'd avoided alcohol as much as possible to stay alert for potential assassinations. Even when he drank, it was just enough to savor the mood without impairing himself.
But tonight, with kindred spirits, he'd let loose and enjoyed it immensely. Even Song Sogeol, who always bickered with him, had looked endearing in the moment. Ju Wonjang, whose first impression hadn't been great but whose boisterous nature livened things up, had made it all the more fun.
Still woozy from the booze, Chanho pressed his temples and squinted. Ju Wonjang was facedown on the table, snoring loudly. In the corner, Nidaihyeok lay sprawled like a starfish, sleeping soundly. But Song Sogeol was nowhere in sight.
He knew Elder Go and Tian Ailang had slipped away quietly while he and the others got rowdy. But Song Sogeol's absence from the drinking circle stirred unease. Chanho thought of how she blended in so well with the men, unladylike as it was.
He chuckled to himself. Trained in arts specialized for concealing one's energy, Chanho had known from the first moment that Song Sogeol was a woman. It was an exquisite disguise technique. He was confident no one else in the world could have pierced it but him.
To him—a man who'd lost the love of his life and sworn off all feelings for women—her unguarded approach had been special. Sure, she'd been playing the man, but her core personality shone through. Especially on nights like this, when she'd drunk heavily, feminine traits slipped out now and then.
Ju Wonjang had been utterly clueless, of course. But Chanho, who'd watched her closely, caught those subtle shifts. These were blissful days. Good friends, a good little brother. What more could he want? Lately, knowing her secret, he'd even felt stirrings of attraction. He'd bury them with teasing pranks.
His stomach churned; the alcohol sloshed inside him. Something noisy outside. What was going on? A familiar energy... and a familiar voice...
Familiar energy? Voice?
"Chanho!"
Chanho bolted up and flung open the tent flap. The glare from burning tents made him squint. Then, black-masked and robed figures knelt in unison before him, heads bowed.
"We greet Ma Chanho, Young Cult Leader!"
"Greetings, Young Cult Leader!"
"Greetings!"
The resounding voices made Chanho's head throb. He grimaced and turned. Across from the kneeling cultists stood Tian Ailang. Chanho started to wave happily at the sight of his friend—but Tian Ailang's cold, expressionless gaze stopped him cold. Then he noticed the person cradled in Tian Ailang's arms.
His mind blanked with a thud. Chanho instantly burned away the alcohol with his inner power.
"The warriors of the Great Heavenly Demon Cult lay down their lives to clear the path for Ma Chanho, Young Cult Leader!"
"For the great Young Cult Leader!"
"Long live Ma Chanho, Young Cult Leader!"
"Long live!"
The kneeling cultists scattered at once, resuming their slaughter of the soldiers.
"Kwaaak!"
"Uwaak!"
The cultists slew many soldiers, but more cultists fell than soldiers. Their initial nighttime ambush had been devastating, but now awakened soldiers formed spear-and-sword phalanxes, blunting the attacks. Normally, elite cultists would opt for hit-and-run tactics to minimize losses.
But these cultists charged into the fray with suicidal frenzy, howling and clawing desperately. Chanho had sobered up, but his mind reeled.
What the hell is this out of nowhere...? And openly calling me Young Cult Leader? Why?
His thoughts shattered as Tian Ailang's lion's roar shook the entire camp.
"Uwaaaaaah——!"
Rumble rumble rumble! The ground quaked. No, it felt like heaven and earth themselves wailed in grief. Chanho stared at Tian Ailang in bewilderment amid the chaos.
An unprecedented storm of energy surged from Tian Ailang's body. His eyes blazed red with fury, fixed on Chanho. Chanho glanced again at the limp figure in his arms. Song Sogeol's hair hung loose, her body slack, her closed eyes like those of the dead.
"Ailang... Sogeol..." Chanho murmured softly. Then, in an angry bellow toward those around him:
"Stand down!"
At his command, the cultists froze mid-kill.
"The Young Cult Leader calls!" All the scattered cultists regrouped before him and knelt again, ready to accept death from any blade. Everyone could feel the profound devotion these Demonic Cult warriors showed Chanho.
......
Chanho gazed up at the bright moon hanging in the sky.
Is it always like this, Father...? Or is it you, Demon Brain?
With a chilling expression, he eyed the cultists before him.
Should I kill them all?
Pretending ignorance, he could slaughter them. But nothing would change. The same thing might repeat. Worse, they might resort to even more extreme measures next time.
"Haa..." Chanho sighed deeply. He scanned the surroundings. Soldiers glared at the kneeling cultists—and him—with fear and rage. But what truly hurt was Tian Ailang, holding Song Sogeol and staring daggers laced with fury.
Tian Ailang strode forward through the cultists.
"Chanho." His voice cracked.
Chanho grimaced, squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them.
"Yes, Ailang."
"Can you explain what the hell is happening here?"
"......"
Chanho could only wear a complex expression, swirling with indescribable emotions. Tian Ailang's face grew icier.
"Why are these fucking bastards calling you Young Cult Leader?"
"......"
"Why won't you speak up? Deny it! Tell them they're all crazy, that they've lost their minds on drugs or some shit...!"
"......"
Chanho bowed his head, unable to meet Tian Ailang's eyes.
"Why! Why?! Answer me! Say you're not Demonic Cult! That you're not the leader who did this to Sogeol... Why... why... why......" Tian Ailang's cracked voice trembled. Tears streamed from his reddened eyes.
Chanho couldn't lift his head.
"Why... why won't you say it! Speak! Say something!"
Tian Ailang sobbed, fat tears splattering down. Chanho finally spoke, voice heavy.
"I... I'm sorry..."
Tian Ailang glared coldly at the apology.
"That's not the answer I want! We're precious friends, brothers unique in this world! Tell me what scheme the Demonic Cult is plotting! Tell them not to misunderstand...!" His final words lacked strength.
"I'm sorry..."
Chanho's face twisted as he approached Tian Ailang and looked down at Song Sogeol.
"What happened to Sogeol...?"
As Chanho reached out, Tian Ailang recoiled.
"Don't touch her. This is your warning. Your precious Demonic Cult did this. If I stop infusing qi, she'll die right now."
"......"
Chanho had no reply. He just stared up at the moon with a grotesquely contorted face.
"Goddamn... it's awfully bright tonight."
A single tear traced down Chanho's cheek. Wiping it away, he met Tian Ailang's eyes squarely, desperate to convey his sincerity.
"Ailang... I'm truly sorry. But everything I've done and felt since meeting you and Sogeol—it's all been real."
"......"
Tian Ailang glared through streaming tears. Chanho gave a bitter smile and stepped back.
"I'm really sorry. To you. To Sogeol... and..." He glanced at them both. "Thank you. Truly."
Then he whirled around and barked at the cultists.
"Everyone, heads up. We're returning to the cult!"
"Yes, sir!"
The cultists chorused and formed ranks to escort him. Soldiers leveled spears and swords, blocking their path. Chanho smiled the saddest smile in the world and released his body's restraints.
Kwaaaaa——!
Unprecedented demonic qi erupted from him. An Asura's visage materialized above his head.
"All of you, stand aside!"
Elder Go's urgent shout—finally catching up behind Tian Ailang—made the soldiers hastily part, clearing a path. Those too close spat blood and died instantly under the immense pressure, opening the way.
Chanho trudged down the cleared path, then glanced back. His eyes met Tian Ailang's. Endless tears flowed from those reddened eyes, lips pressed tight in fury.
......
Chanho gave one last look at the deathlike Song Sogeol, then turned fully away.
"Let's go."
"Yes, sir!"
Silence blanketed the camp after Chanho and the cultists departed. Elder Go wanted to stop Chanho and his ilk—the ones behind this mess—but he couldn't. Doing so would invite far greater losses, and he lacked confidence in fully repelling them.
Chanho's status as Young Cult Leader was shocking enough, but his power—even manifesting an Asura—was beyond prediction. With Tian Ailang's help or a joint assault, maybe. But seeing Tian Ailang, especially with Song Sogeol in his arms, he knew it was impossible.
Leaving Tian Ailang staring blankly in the direction Chanho had vanished, Elder Go commanded the soldiers.
"Everyone, tend to the wounded and await orders!"
After issuing instructions, Elder Go looked at Tian Ailang. There lingered a profound sorrow unlike any he'd known.