Chapter 141
Chapter 141
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 141
Chapter Title: Demonic Cult
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Compared to the number of people fleeing, the pursuers weren't that numerous. It looked like they'd hastily rounded up whoever they could to give chase.
However, whether they outnumbered their foes or not had little to do with the outcome of a fight between martial artists. In the jianghu, battles were decided by the gap in skill levels, not headcount.
And right now, with internal energy flowing so awkwardly and unreliably, those doing the fleeing were at a complete disadvantage.
Yet there was no good solution. They simply lacked a way to move fast enough to shake off their pursuers.
The group's footsteps gradually slowed before halting all at once, as if by some unspoken agreement. Then, they turned back as one to face their enemies.
'This is as far as we go.'
The Three-Eyed Buddha spoke to Dang Mujin.
"I told you to run."
"Getting caught a little later won't change a thing. Better to lend a hand instead."
"Hmm."
The Three-Eyed Buddha looked at Dang Mujin with approval.
To make a rational call even in a situation like this meant Dang Mujin had survived a far from smooth path to get where he was.
A faint pang of regret stirred in the Three-Eyed Buddha.
'What a shame. If he could just live another ten years, he'd be a force to reckon with anywhere.'
As he slowly loosened his muscles, the Three-Eyed Buddha thought.
'No matter how this plays out, I have to keep this kid alive somehow. Too much potential to die here.'
The group sized up the pursuers. There were just over twenty of them.
Fewer than eight had crossed the wall into transcendent mastery, but leading them was one transcendent expert. U Hobeop.
The Three-Eyed Buddha reflected.
'Without the poison, we could've shaken them easily. Should've waited to purge it all before slipping away?'
No. Leaving later would've meant facing far more foes than this. In the worst case, they might not have escaped the branch stronghold where the Brain Hell was rooted at all.
Tch. The Three-Eyed Buddha clicked his tongue and dropped into a low stance.
Meanwhile, Dang Mujin straightened his back and gazed at the sky. A massive scavenger bird, as large as a man, circled overhead, eyeing something below.
'Why'd that thing follow us? We left plenty of carrion behind.'
Narrowing his eyes to study the bird, Dang Mujin noticed something. The color of its tail feathers. They didn't match those of the bird that had been brooding eggs.
Realization dawned. That wasn't the brooding bird—it was the other one that had lingered nearby. The male, perhaps.
The bird's gaze was fixed on Dang Mujin. More precisely, on Mok Wan-ah strapped to his back.
'Ah!'
He didn't know if scavenger birds preyed on humans. But to a creature that thrived on poison, Mok Wan-ah right now must look like an irresistible meal.
Her body already harbored toxins, and on top of that, she'd been dosed with enough to overwhelm even her resilient frame.
'Quit circling up there and spray those pursuers with your poison instead.'
But the world rarely bent to one's wishes.
The bird's eyes never left Mok Wan-ah. And with Dang Mujin—known for his poison expertise—carrying her, it was even more drawn.
U Hobeop, at the front of the pursuers, drew his sword and declared.
"Finish this quickly before that scavenger spreads more poison, then head back. I'll take the Three-Eyed Buddha alive. Subdue as many as you can. Hold back on killing unless necessary—but if they're a threat, take their lives without hesitation."
Hearing this, the Three-Eyed Buddha let out a hollow laugh.
"You think you can take me alive with your skills?"
To capture someone alive required a wide margin in ability. And U Hobeop's prowess fell a step short of the Three-Eyed Buddha's.
"Normally? Sure, it'd be tough. But you can barely circulate your qi right now. What's stopping me?"
"Insolent fool."
The Three-Eyed Buddha flexed his right hand, glaring at U Hobeop.
"I'll snap your neck and see if you still talk like that."
"Mine'll stay intact. And by tonight, you'll be resting in the Brain Hell again."
U Hobeop advanced toward the Three-Eyed Buddha, step by thudding step. The Three-Eyed Buddha bristled like a beast fluffing its fur—shoulders broadening, back muscles taut and bulging. He suddenly seemed larger.
Then, as if on cue, both men's techniques unfolded in unison.
At a glance, it looked like the Three-Eyed Buddha was pressing the attack. And indeed, raw power aside from the qi issues favored him.
But U Hobeop claimed the practical edge. His sword whipped out three times in succession, carving a deep gash into the Three-Eyed Buddha's right forearm. A symbolic sight.
'This isn't good.'
Dang Mujin set Mok Wan-ah down and gripped his sword, weaving into the group. Hong Geolgae beside him spoke up.
"You're staggering bad. Don't get in the way—fall back."
"If you were a bit more reliable, I might."
"Won't help much. Quit being stubborn and pull back."
Hong Geolgae's words weren't dismissal—they were concern.
Dang Mujin had many talents, each exceptional enough to keep him alive almost anywhere.
One exception: jumping into a fight and catching a stray blade. Hong Geolgae wanted him to survive.
But Dang Mujin had no intention of abandoning his friends—who'd come to his aid—and hanging back.
"When guests come to help, how can the host just sit idle?"
"Sigh."
No more words passed. The pursuers charged.
Clang—
The two sides clashed, a harsh metallic ring echoing out. At first, it sounded like clean strikes meeting in precise forms, but in moments it devolved into a chaotic melee that dizzied the senses. The clear clashes turned to the screeching wails of scraping steel.
Dang Mujin swung his sword wildly. But the poison weighed down his body, his mind fogged like a misty haze.
Amid the precarious brawl, a sharp pain lanced his ankle, throwing off his balance.
It wasn't the poison alone making him stumble. A thin-lipped man with beady eyes had kicked his ankle.
'Am I done for?'
Clarity hit like cold water. Airborne, Dang Mujin eyed the man's hands. Luck was with him—no blade. He practiced fist techniques, it seemed.
The man clenched both fists and slammed them into Dang Mujin's chest with brutal force.
Dang Mujin didn't know the style. But its effect was potent. A cracking sensation in his left ribs brought searing agony.
He flew back several zhang, tumbling ignobly.
Dust clouded his vision in a hazy plume. The thin-lipped man, assuming Dang Mujin neutralized, glanced his way before engaging another foe.
Dang Mujin tried to rise, then slumped again.
He'd been useless so far. With broken ribs now, he couldn't possibly contribute.
'...Damn it.'
He hawked up saliva from his throat. No blood—good. The ribs hadn't pierced any organs.
Gripping his fading awareness, Dang Mujin watched the fight. The bold displays came solely from the pursuers.
Less than half a shichen in, the battle's tide had turned decisively.
Some lay dead; others dropped swords swiftly to save their skins. Only a handful, the Three-Eyed Buddha among them, still resisted.
'It's over.'
The Three-Eyed Buddha was covered in sword wounds, blood soaking his pants crimson. He resembled a wild boar harried by hunters.
He endured only because U Hobeop wanted him alive. If killing had been the goal, he'd be long dead.
Grinding his teeth, the Three-Eyed Buddha spat.
"U Hobeop. Count yourself lucky. Without this mess, I'd have smashed your skull by now."
U Hobeop replied indifferently.
"Maybe."
The fight neared its end. Dang Mujin's heart raced.
The Three-Eyed Buddha, Dang Mujin, and the Demonic Cult escapees might scrape by if they surrendered.
But Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae, not of the Cult, faced near-certain execution. Even accepting surrenders had limits.
Dang Mujin staggered to his feet.
'Any way out?'
Nothing in sight. But he felt it—a sudden thickening of poison qi at his back.
'What?'
He turned. The scavenger bird had descended, poking at the sprawled Mok Wan-ah, pondering how to devour her.
Dang Mujin lurched upright. A faint possibility glimmered.
He crawled slowly toward Mok Wan-ah. The bird, sensing his poor state, showed little fear.
Instead, it fixed him with its characteristically emotionless avian stare.
'Not intimidated, huh.'
Dang Mujin huddled beside Mok Wan-ah, waiting.
Moments later, as the bird craned its long neck to peck at her, Dang Mujin sprang like a loosed arrow, seizing its throat.
"Kyaaak!"
Wings flapping, the bird thrashed. Thick poison qi billowed with the commotion.
Dang Mujin felt his broken ribs grinding wildly inside him. Yet his hands clamped the bird's neck unyieldingly.
Those hearing the shriek scattered in panic.
"That bastard—when'd that bird get here?"
"Why's he messing with the scavenger now?"
"Back off! You'll get poisoned!"
In the next instant, Dang Mujin did something incomprehensible to the onlookers.
He gaped his mouth wide and bit into the bird's neck.
Kyaaak! Hot blood sprayed with the bird's cry.
"That lunatic—what the hell is he doing?"
Shouts of shock and curses erupted. But Dang Mujin ignored them.
His gripping hands burned as if thousands of insects crawled beneath the skin, devouring flesh. Pain was secondary; the disgust was overwhelming.
Worse, his lips where blood touched went numb, tasting faintly of metal.
But he couldn't stop. Dang Mujin tore into the neck twice more.
The bird writhed for a time, then slowed.
The bizarre act went unchallenged, the intense poison qi deterring any interference.
Then Dang Mujin rose unsteadily and swung at the twitching bird.
Squelch.
The keen Single Soul Sword cleaved from neck to gut in one stroke.
Blood sprayed massively. Its poison so potent, people crawled away to gain distance.
Yet Dang Mujin pressed forward. He plunged his right hand into the bird's belly, rummaging inside.
'Scavenger birds are spiritual beasts too. Might have an inner core.'
Blood splashed his eyes, blurring vision. Hand buried in the warm, squelching guts and shredded flesh, the sensations repulsed him.
Someone yelled.
"That fool thinks the bird has an inner core?"
"Looks like it!"
Laughter rang out. Apparently, scavenger birds had no cores. Dang Mujin's heart sank.
'Damn.'
Then, something pulsing with intensely dark energy touched his hand.
Not a core. It lacked that auspicious aura.
Like a gizzard from a chicken, fist-half-sized. Something thick, black, and shadowy writhed within.
Dang Mujin knew it instantly. A poison sac—a venom gland.
Far more potent than the one from the Seven Treasures Temple he'd swallowed before.
Merely brushing it blistered his skin with vicious toxin.
But no choice remained. Hesitate now, and he'd be the Demonic Cult's prisoner indefinitely; Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae would lose their heads.
As if entranced, Dang Mujin swallowed the sac. A cry rang out.
"Spit it out! That's no core!"
He knew. It was madness.
Yet he believed in the possibility. Mok Wan-ah was his signpost.
Those exposed to poison progressed from poisoning to death.
But Mok Wan-ah had teetered on that edge, balancing to survive with poison-infused qi as the strange result.
Dang Mujin thought he could mount that same precarious balance.
'Mok Wan-ah managed without poison arts. No reason I—a poison arts practitioner—can't.'
Sole worry: he faced far stronger venom than she had.
The sac dissolved in his gut, unleashing explosive poison qi.
His eyes rolled back simultaneously. Only whites showed, veins burst. No one would call it normal.
'I'll endure.'
Dang Mujin's body stiffened like a stake driven into the earth.
Not standing properly, though. Legs planted, upper body slumped forward in precarious near-fall.
Black blood streamed from his mouth—not from torn lips, but vomited from ruptured organs. Onlookers deemed him dead.
*
Dang Mujin's mind wasn't in the fields near Tianshan, but a vast white space.
A place with towering walls. Familiar.
He looked up at the high wall, then touched the Single Soul Sword at his waist.
But he knew: though keenest of blades, his insight fell short of its edge.
Yet he didn't retreat. He stood still, gazing at the wall.
No need to cleave it. Just climb over somehow.
Waves surged from behind.
No blue sea, no white foam. Black, viscous waves crested with ominous purple froth.
Not water—poison. The sort that clung eternally once touched.
The toxic flood swallowed him instantly, yet poured endlessly as if insufficient.
The white space blackened, the tide surging up the walls like monsoon rains breaching a dam.
Dang Mujin cleaved through the venomous currents, swimming. Destination unknown. Only upward, toward the surface, endlessly. Sink and die; surface to live.
At last, he broke through, gasping held breath.
Haaa—
Panting harshly, he glanced back.
A wall at his back; beyond, the poison sloshed.
Whether this counted as surmounting the wall was debatable.
No one had tried it this way. No one had succeeded this way.
Even the Poison Ghost hadn't crossed like this. He'd merely layered poison arts atop a transcendent blade.
But the method of crossing didn't matter.
What mattered: Dang Mujin had reached the other side.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.