Arrogance and Sloth (5)
Seomun Hwan remained speechless for a long moment.
Reincarnation of the Phantom Demon?
The words reverberated deep in his mind.
Wasn’t that his line?
When he had opened his eyes, he had become the third young master of the Seomun Clan—Seomun Hwan himself. He was the Phantom Demon’s next life. So why? How? In what way?
How dare that man utter the name so casually?
Is this nonsense?
Seomun Hwan was suspicious. It was common knowledge throughout the martial world that the Phantom Demon had used the Great Soul Transfer Art before his death. In fact, after the Great Righteous-Demonic War ended, countless impostors claiming to be the Phantom Demon had sprouted up like mushrooms across the gangho.
He might be one of those types, but…
Still, he couldn’t dismiss it so easily. The final moments of Taeheo Singeom were something only he, as the Phantom Demon, should have known.
For now, he would move with caution.
“……How dare you utter that name.”
Maintaining a calm expression, he slowly stepped forward. His gait was perfectly composed, his voice flowing smoothly.
“As a descendant of Kunlun, which disciplines the wicked, that name cannot be taken lightly.”
His tone was resolute, brimming with conviction.
So Ji-myeong let out a derisive snort.
“Kunlun? Discipline?”
He threw his head back as though he had heard the most ridiculous joke imaginable.
“Hmph! So there are still fools who spout such outdated words.”
His black eyes were filled with pure mockery.
“It’s laughable to see the so-called descendants of Kunlun still babbling about justice and righteousness. Don’t you know how that old sect leader ended up?”
“Stop your nonsense! You claim to be the Phantom Demon who died thirty years ago? You think I’d believe such absurd drivel?”
Seomun Hwan added quietly, his voice cold.
“Ridiculous. The real Phantom Demon would never be a coward like you.”
The words left Seomun Hwan’s mouth lightly, laced with cynicism.
So Ji-myeong’s eyebrows twitched.
“……What? You’re calling me a coward?”
“Obviously. The Phantom Demon was a being the entire world feared. No one dared speak recklessly in his presence.”
Seomun Hwan continued as if he had faced the Phantom Demon himself.
“The real Phantom Demon would never hide in a remote hole like this, secretly raising a divine beast. If he had truly reincarnated, he would have already torn the heart out of the martial world. Therefore, you are clearly a cheap imitation.”
So Ji-myeong’s expression froze into icy rage.
“Ch-cheap imitation? To me?”
His chin trembled. Thick black mist began coalescing at his fingertips.
Suddenly, demonic energy swirled violently around his body.
“You ignorant whelp! How dare you presume to judge me?!”
“At least I seem to know more about the subject than you do right now.”
Seomun Hwan smiled faintly once more.
“Still, if you want me to believe you’re the real thing, show me some proof. As it stands, I can only assume you’re parroting nonsense you heard somewhere.”
Before he even finished speaking, all reason vanished from So Ji-myeong’s face.
He spread his arms wide, no longer hiding his ferocious anger.
“Very well. I’ll show you. I’ll teach you what true terror feels like.”
The absolute seal that dominates the origin of all yokai and demons. The brand of absolute power, engraved only upon himself by the Phantom Demon in his previous life.
Kwaaaaang!
The demonic energy enveloping So Ji-myeong’s body exploded like madness. The surrounding air warped chaotically, and the yokai instinctively cowered, shrieking in terror.
The next instant, a vivid red pattern emerged on his chest—centered on his heart, wriggling as if alive.
“Can you see it? This is the Phantom Demon Ghost Wheel, capable of commanding every yokai and demon!”
So Ji-myeong bared his teeth like a wild beast and roared.
A powerful aura surged behind his shoulders like crashing waves.
Seomun Hwan pressed his lips together tightly.
This… is truly one of my techniques.
In his past life, he had created countless martial arts. Most were exceptional, but only a handful could be called divine. The Phantom Demon Ghost Wheel was one of them—a forbidden art that engraved a gate to the demonic realm upon the body, allowing complete mastery over yokai power.
Only then did the realization strike him.
My memories… are incomplete.
It hit him like a blow to the back of the head. Only after seeing the Phantom Demon Ghost Wheel had the spell’s existence resurfaced in his mind. But that was all. No matter how hard he tried, he could not recall how to use it. There was a hole in his memory—a deep, pitch-black void.
Why? Why can’t I remember? Could it be a side effect of the Great Soul Transfer Art? If the soul was split in two…
A brief chill ran down his spine at the thought. But this was not the time to search for answers.
“Shut your mouth, Kunlun whelp.”
So Ji-myeong pointed a finger forward. A blood-red pattern rose from his fingertip and began etching spell characters into the air.
“Red soul shackles, descend with chains of darkness.”
Behind him, the unique binding formation of the Maoshan Sect surged upward. The spell symbols embedded in the ground trembled and glowed crimson as demonic energy poured into them, radiating an even more menacing aura.
Kwaaaaaat!
Space twisted violently as red chains of sorcery slammed down toward Seomun Hwan—an attack that fused the Phantom Demon’s past-life knowledge with Maoshan techniques.
“……!”
Without hesitation, Seomun Hwan drew his sword. Power erupted from his dantian in a streak of sword light that met the chains head-on.
Chaaaaak!
The sword brushed past, causing the chains to ripple before they bounced away and smashed into the wall.
Boom!
The solid stone wall collapsed in a rumbling heap. The shockwave stabbed into Seomun Hwan’s back like needles.
“Ugh!”
He lowered his stance and reset his posture. The Cloud Dragon Eight Forms and Taeheo Dragon Sword—both were renowned divine arts that had once elevated Kunlun to the forefront of the Nine Sects and One Gang.
Yet Seomun Hwan’s execution felt somehow clumsy. His swordplay was too rigid, and the rhythm in his footwork was slightly off.
So Ji-myeong didn’t miss a single flaw. A sneer curled his lips.
“Kukukuk! A member of the Dragon Phoenix Assembly? Just as I expected. In the end, you’re nothing but a greenhorn.”
His eyes brimmed with contempt and disappointment.
“Honest swordsmanship and stubborn footwork. So the great Kunlun descendant can only imitate that stale, outdated martial art. Is the defective product that Taeheo Singeom raised while pathetically clinging to life nothing more than this?”
At the blatant insult, Seomun Hwan bared his teeth in fury.
“Ugh! How dare you!”
His eyes burned with life, yet his posture remained sloppy. So Ji-myeong clicked his tongue.
“I’ve lost all interest. I didn’t expect much, but this is truly pathetic.”
A mocking smile spread across his face.
“For a whelp like you, this much should suffice.”
He raised his hand lightly. The red energy pouring from the Phantom Demon Ghost Wheel on his chest grew denser, filling the air with intricate blood-colored spell formulas that sealed the entire space.
Oooooong!
The overwhelming energy pressed down like a mountain. Seomun Hwan was forced to take a step back.
“Just die already.”
So Ji-myeong flicked his finger through the air.
Snap!
Dozens of red arrows materialized and shot toward Seomun Hwan in an instant.
He swung his sword desperately, but their sheer number made it impossible to block them all. One arrow grazed his forearm, and crimson blood stained his sleeve.
“Ugh!”
Driven backward, he urgently raised his sword again. So Ji-myeong laughed scornfully.
“Kukukuku! A mere insect after all. So weak. This body hasn’t even properly warmed up yet.”
He continued unleashing spells without pause.
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwang!
The ground exploded. Space warped. Seomun Hwan threw himself aside desperately, only to be swept up by the violent storm and sent tumbling across the floor. His body was already caked in dirt and blood.
“Huff… Huff…”
His breathing came in ragged gasps. His body swayed as though it might collapse at any second.
So Ji-myeong laughed with open contempt.
“Puhaha! That’s the perfect look for you. Insects belong wallowing in filth.”
Yet Seomun Hwan gritted his teeth and forced himself back into stance. The hand gripping his sword trembled faintly.
So Ji-myeong laughed even harder, as if the sight was the most amusing thing in the world.
“Kahahaha! Your tenacity is commendable. But simply standing before me is already a crime worthy of death.”
He raised his hand high. A massive formation drew itself in the air as black energy erupted from the ground, cutting off all retreat.
“It’s over, Kunlun ghost. I’ll now completely eradicate that tiresome seed of yours.”
Black light exploded from his fingertips. Dozens, then hundreds of chains, blades, and flames poured down like a waterfall.
Kwaaaaaang!
Seomun Hwan swung his sword with everything he had, but it wasn’t enough. The blade could no longer endure the force and shattered.
Clang!
“Ugh!”
He remained barely standing, legs shaking dangerously. Sword broken, body in tatters—he looked finished.
Yet So Ji-myeong frowned, clearly offended.
“You withstood my power? A mere insect like you?”
He had expected that much force to kill him. The fact that his prediction had missed irritated him to no end. It was only because Seomun Hwan had narrowly dodged using footwork.
“Let’s see if you can endure this as well.”
The Phantom Demon Ghost Wheel on So Ji-myeong’s chest blazed even brighter. Dark yokai energy gathered into a sphere and began compressing rapidly.
Kugugugugu!!
The fist-sized orb of power soon cracked like thin ice and unleashed its fury.
A destructive spell capable of erasing existence itself.
“Now it’s truly over. Darklight Soul Annihilation Blast!”
Pazijijijik!!!
Blood-red energy cascaded like a waterfall. To Seomun Hwan, it looked as if the sky itself was collapsing and the earth sinking. It was no exaggeration—this was a destructive spell that could wipe out existence entirely.
“Kahahaha! Disappear without a trace!”
The wind pressure alone whipped his hair in every direction. The ground shattered and split. The crushing force bore down on his lungs, buckling his knees and making his whole body stagger.
It looked like an absolute moment of crisis.
Yet Seomun Hwan smiled.
“Got you.”
All flows of qi and the knots of power become vividly clear. The complicated, oversized spell reveals its fatal flaw—a single, minuscule gap.
In that instant, a strange pattern bloomed in Seomun Hwan’s eyes.
The Phantom Demon Ghost Wheel was an incredible technique that drew yokai power to maximize one’s main force. Combined with the modified Maoshan spell, the Darklight Soul Annihilation Blast was powerful enough to erase an entire village.
But Seomun Hwan possessed a divine art that could match it—the Mysterious Golden Eye, an eye technique that saw through all things.
Previously, even brief use had been taxing. Yet after months of practicing the Reclining Dragon Divine Art, he could now maintain it for several seconds.
Tsu-tsu-tsu-tsu!!
His eyes sparkled like stars. Within the chaotic flow, the knots of the spell stood out vividly. Because So Ji-myeong had poured everything—past-life memories and Maoshan techniques—into creating this grand spell, it carried a fatal weakness: it was simply too large and too complex.
Discarding the broken sword, he gripped the Blue Stream Sword at his waist. The flexible blade stiffened instantly as inner energy flooded into it.
He stepped forward powerfully and thrust.
“Hup!”
The divine sword, whose length transformed with injected qi, shot forward like a streak of lightning.
Shweeeek!
The blade writhed like a living serpent, riding the waves between straight lines and curves. It traced the swirling knots of the spell, slipping through the tangled patterns like water. Scraping away the vortex-like knots, the soft sword pierced the spell’s gaps like a needle—like a meteor streaking across a dark night sky.
Pazijijik!!
The sound of space being torn apart rang out. The silver trajectory advanced relentlessly, ripping open cracks in the vortex. The spell’s knots tore apart as the beam of light surged forward.
A tiny, almost invisible gap within the complexly swirling sorcery.
The silver flash pierced straight through that thread-thin opening—directly toward the heart residing in its path.
Pat!
The Blue Stream Sword’s sharp edge drove through So Ji-myeong’s chest and out his back, still carrying enough force to embed deeply into the cave wall behind him.
The scream came a moment later.
“Keuk! Th-this… what… this can’t be……”
So Ji-myeong stared back and forth between his pierced heart and Seomun Hwan, his face a mask of disbelief.
“I… I am the Phantom Demon… I am the greatest of all time……”
Seomun Hwan laughed softly.
A triumphant smile rose on his blood-stained face.
“That’s what I told you. You’re a cheap fake.”