The Nameless Flash
Jang Muhwi, who had been walking slowly, stopped in front of the madman.
In that instant, the madman drove his axe into Jang Muhwi’s crown without the slightest hesitation.
Wham!
A thunderous crash split the air as the blood-red axe cleaved through empty space.
Another deafening roar followed immediately.
Kwaaaang!
It felt as though the very earth trembled.
A thick cloud of dust billowed upward, then ignited in midair from the madman’s scorching heat.
The dust cleared in an instant. The madman raised his axe once more, ready to cleave his opponent—Jang Muhwi—again.
Though his swings appeared wild, the madman moved with the instinctive precision of a true warrior.
He lifted the axe high, then tilted his head in confusion. The enemy whose life he had meant to end was no longer on the ground.
Instinctively, the madman took a step back. For the first time, he felt something akin to fear.
Even acting purely on instinct, with no memories to guide him, he sensed a faint dread.
At that moment, a thin thread of wind brushed past from behind.
Swish.
An arc of silver light rode the wind and streaked toward him.
Slash.
The silver flash grazed the madman’s waist. He looked down to see blood flowing from the wound.
Another silver flash came flying in.
Jang Muhwi traced the sword path he had grasped through Mumyeonggeomgyeol. Countless roots converge into one. The reverse is also true—one tree can send out tens of thousands of roots.
In the first chapter alone, Jang Muhwi had extracted two techniques. He named one Heojeongmanhwa—ten thousand flowers blooming in stillness. Here, “flowers” meant individual sword forms. Though only a fragment of Mumyeonggeomgyeol, that fragment could contain tens of thousands of techniques, all ultimately flowing into a single sword path.
He named that path Flash.
Heojeongmanhwa scattered hundreds of sword paths in a single swing while concealing killing intent within simplicity. Flash, by contrast, poured every ounce of power into one decisive strike. Heojeongmanhwa excelled at severing an enemy’s attack while showing false openings; Flash was the technique of absolute, one-hit kills. In a sense, Flash was like a spear capable of piercing anything.
Of course, even Mumyeonggeomgyeol was not enough by itself. True mastery of any technique came only through experience—a law every martial artist knew.
Though he was using the forms for the first time in real combat, Jang Muhwi’s vast experience let him draw out a convincing sword path. The elegant flow he unleashed was Heojeongmanhwa.
Slash.
His blade grazed the madman’s thigh. Wounds began to appear on a body that had never bled, no matter how many needles pierced it. The madman stared at his injuries in shock.
At the sight of blood, he charged in a frenzy. Just as his massive axe came crashing down toward Jang Muhwi, the latter’s sword proved faster.
Slash.
Jang Muhwi’s blade streaked like lightning, piercing straight through the madman’s attack.
Though he held the upper hand, one thing puzzled him: the blood flowing from the madman stopped in the blink of an eye. The flesh melted and flowed like liquid, sealing the wound. It was as if he possessed an indestructible diamond body.
Moreover, the madman’s martial arts were strange. He blocked vital points that should have been fatal with the axe in his left hand—one hand for defense, the other for offense.
Jang Muhwi’s eyes narrowed. A faint trace of demonic energy was leaking from the madman.
“Flash,” he called out shortly.
At the same time, his sword shot toward the axe in the madman’s left hand. The massive weapon guarding the vital point stood like a shield. The madman swung his right-hand axe down at the charging Jang Muhwi, but the sword tip reached first.
Clang!
The madman staggered back five steps. A visible hole had been punched through his shoulder, and cracks began to spiderweb across his axe.
Crack.
The weapon split apart. The madman stared at his broken axe in disbelief.
Jang Muhwi’s Flash had not been a simple attack—it had pierced the very source of the madman’s power. Yet even Jang Muhwi had to pause. Flash poured out everything in a single strike; he needed time to recover.
Just then, the red aura surrounding the madman faded, and the madness vanished from his eyes. His lips trembled.
“…”
“You obtained a power you cannot control. Who are you?”
“…”
The madman looked around in confusion. Jang Muhwi nodded. His suspicion had become certainty. The moment the madman regained consciousness, the faint demonic energy disappeared. Somehow, he was connected to the Demonic Cult.
Jang Muhwi spoke in a calm voice. “Where did you come from? Speak honestly, and I will help you.”
“…Urgh!”
The madman’s body convulsed violently as he tried to speak. A restriction seal—on demonic energy? The more Jang Muhwi saw, the more suspicious it became. In his previous life, this incident had created the hero Galmu-ryang and then been buried.
Suddenly, the madman’s presence shifted again.
Whoosh.
His axe ignited, burning crimson as though aflame. The fire was no ordinary heat—it was true flame erupting from the weapon itself.
The madman’s lips twisted strangely. Staring at his axe, he muttered to himself in wonder, “This is… Yeolchamssangbu?”
His voice was hoarse and cracked, as though he had not spoken in a long time. He turned slowly to face Jang Muhwi. Confusion and rage burned in his crimson eyes.
“Why does this power flow through my body…? Aaaagh!”
He clutched his head in agony, pouring out not only pain but a torrent of emotions. Jang Muhwi’s gaze turned cold as he adjusted his grip on his sword.
Yeolchamssangbu. A fitting name for both axe and technique. A few warriors came to mind who wielded extreme yang energy, but those who did so with an axe were rare. Jang Muhwi had never heard of this man in either lifetime.
He tightened his hold. The madman’s aura had changed completely. The flames dancing along his axe radiated a terrifying presence that seemed ready to melt everything in its path. The madman looked at Jang Muhwi and curled his lips upward—the expression of a beast that had found prey.
He charged.
Thud-thud-thud.
Ignoring proper footwork, he rushed forward like a maddened bull. Jang Muhwi thrust his sword, but the outcome was different this time. The madman knocked the blade aside with his right-hand axe. Not only had his energy changed—his speed had increased as well.
Clang. Clang!
Sword and axe collided dozens of times in the space of a single breath. From behind, Galmu-ryang watched the battle. Jang Muhwi had saved him when his arm had nearly been severed, though he could not recall how. Never before had he seen martial arts like the madman’s, yet Jang Muhwi’s skill in facing him head-on was even more astonishing.
Galmu-ryang could not follow even a fraction of the madman’s axe speed, but Jang Muhwi surpassed it. The technique he had just displayed was clearly extraordinary. Still, Galmu-ryang could not bring himself to smile. The madman’s killing intent had surged again, making him flinch. His instincts screamed to flee, yet he could not move—not out of loyalty to a comrade, but because he knew intervening would only hinder Jang Muhwi.
Looking closely, he saw wounds appearing one by one on Jang Muhwi’s body. Galmu-ryang bit his lip. His own helplessness forced him to watch while the man who had saved him was driven into a corner.
Clang. Clang.
Jang Muhwi was being pushed into a corner. The madman’s axe, wreathed in crimson flame, descended upon him. Jang Muhwi blocked it with his sword, but the devouring flames split the blade.
Crack.
Galmu-ryang took an involuntary step forward, but he had to stop. Though the sword had broken, Jang Muhwi was unharmed. He had seized the handle of the flaming axe. Even gripping only the haft, the sight of him holding the blazing weapon was astonishing. Galmu-ryang squeezed his eyes shut; he could almost feel the pain himself.
“Jang Muhwi… just who are you?”
Galmu-ryang could not understand. With such skill, Jang Muhwi could have abandoned his comrade and fled. Yet he had not. From the situation, it was clear he had not fled earlier either. He had scouted ahead exactly as he claimed, checking whether the madman had allies. Could anyone do that on their very first mission? Never. Even disciples of great sects trembled at the sight of blood at first. The martial world was a place where one grew accustomed to blood and thereby matured. Yet Jang Muhwi moved like a veteran who had roamed the jianghu for decades—an expert worthy of being called a hero.
Of course, Jang Muhwi’s circumstances were different. Thanks to Yangyeolbulchim, he could endure the heat. In fact, the madman’s flames were slowly filling his once-empty dantian. Still, there were limits. He could not overpower the madman whose aura had changed. It was not a problem with Mumyeonggeomgyeol—the sword itself could not withstand the energy of Yeolchamssangbu. On top of that, his internal energy was inferior.
Three factors could elevate one’s martial arts: secret manuals, elixirs, and weapons. In terms of elixirs and weapons, he was overwhelmingly disadvantaged. The only fortunate thing was that the Giyan of Yangyeolbulchim let him endure the heat. But!
Jang Muhwi looked at his half-broken sword. After a brief moment of thought, he began walking toward the madman. He stopped three steps away and lowered his weapon—an unmistakable sign of no hostility. The madman hesitated at the unexpected action.
Seizing the opening, Jang Muhwi called out, “Friend. It’s been a long time.”
“Friend?”
The madman let out a metallic rasp of surprise. Jang Muhwi continued, “That’s right. A friend… I know you very well. Aren’t you curious about who you are?”
It was, of course, a lie meant to create an opening. As expected, the madman reacted to the question. Then, clutching his head, he began thrashing violently. At the same time, his energy grew even stronger. The red aura pouring from his body intensified until the very air around him warped.
“Shut up! Shut up!”
The madman roared and swung his massive axe. Crimson flames swept through the air, leaving searing heat in their wake. With his current aura alone, he could be called the strongest in Qinghai. Jang Muhwi had no time to spare. He had to exploit this opening now.
Dodging the incoming axe, he closed the distance rapidly. Everything was still going according to plan—he wanted to drive the madman further into madness and capture him alive. But that was no longer possible. The madman had no control over his own power.
Resolved, Jang Muhwi thrust his broken sword like a serpent through the crimson flames. With the shortened blade, he had to drive in even deeper. Enduring the heat, he pierced forward and spoke in a low voice.
“Flash.”
“Kuh!”
A pained groan escaped the madman’s lips. Jang Muhwi’s sword had pierced straight through his abdomen. Meeting the madman’s eyes, he said, “Rest in peace.”
“Keke…”
Instead of pain, the madman laughed. His eyes blazed even more fiercely. Jang Muhwi saw it—the madman grabbed his arm at lightning speed. It was a mutual destruction technique. The madman’s entire body boiled like lava. Jang Muhwi had no choice.
“A pity.”
With those words, he swung his broken sword.
Slash.
Thud.
The madman’s severed head rolled across the ground. Jang Muhwi sighed and stepped back. Then the strange event he had anticipated occurred. Flames rose from the dantian and consumed the madman’s body—it was the very Blood Calamity Flame.
At that moment, Galmu-ryang’s trembling voice came from behind.