Cheonsu-maje's Demise
“Care to try that again?”
I flicked my fingers, taunting Cheonsu-maje. Now that he had revealed his true nature, I intended to push him further into a frenzy.
‘Whew. He really is strong.’
Cheonsu-maje was powerful—far beyond comparison with the likes of Blood Hand Poison Emperor or Sa-an Gwi-gun.
My inner energy was running low. Though I had refined my control through countless battles and secluded training, that did not mean I could expend it without limit.
It was time to end this.
His aura surged like a storm. Demonic qi now coursed not only through his blade but through his veins, muscles, and even his breath.
In the next instant, his long sword split vertically into two crescent-shaped demonic blades, one in each hand.
“Let’s enjoy this properly, whelp.”
The first blade flashed toward my left shoulder; the second streaked toward my waist like lightning.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Three impacts rattled my wrists until they felt ready to tear, yet I did not stop. Instead, I raised my sword and whispered,
“That speed? I can see all of it.”
Lowering my stance, I thrust the blade upward in a piercing motion. Inner energy erupted as the sword art unfolded.
White Dragon Sword Scripture, Fourth Form.
Blood Dragon Shatters the Heavens.
A crimson dragon coiled up Cheonsu-maje’s twin blades and raked across his wrists. Seizing the opening, I pressed the assault.
Thud!
My foot slammed into his knee. The heavy impact jolted his posture.
“I’ll kill you,” he snarled, spinning despite the awkward stance. His twin blades merged into a single crimson crescent that carved through the air.
Blood Moon Slash.
The blade light fell like a descending moon, rending the sky and swallowing me whole.
BOOM!
An explosion dyed my vision red. The cliff of Blood Mountain Valley collapsed, sending boulders cascading like a waterfall from dozens of feet above.
I failed to react in time to the sudden onslaught. Before the dust could settle, I snatched Muyoung’s sword and rose again.
“Hah… my mistake.”
Yes, this was my error—a small, correctable one. Of course, even a small mistake could cost me my head.
Fortunately, Cheonsu-maje was already exhausted.
The crimson mist thickened. No, it was not mist; it was the demonic qi pouring from his body. Beast-like breaths and red vapor engulfed the valley.
“Kuhuhuhuh.”
His voice had turned chilling. The muscles in his shoulders and neck swelled grotesquely. The crescent blades were now wreathed in malformed demonic energy—not steel edges, but blades of pure qi.
He’s lost his mind.
Demonic Blood Rampage—a forbidden art that burned one’s own blood to amplify demonic qi. Though prohibited, every Demon Emperor of the Twelve had mastered it. It was a technique fueled by the desperate will to kill the enemy even at the cost of one’s own life.
Both inner energy and lifespan were being devoured. The destructive power it granted was terrifying.
In the end, Cheonsu-maje, who had ignited his blood, sought neither victory nor survival. Only my death.
“Die!”
He roared. The cry mingled a beast’s hunger with madness, and each step cracked the ground. Crimson lightning-like blade lights crossed from left and right.
BOOM!
I deflected the first blade to the side.
CRASH!
The second I parried upward from below.
Yet his speed only increased. Like a maddened boar, his power and velocity doubled in the blink of an eye.
Blood streamed down my forearms. Evasion and defense were nearing their limits.
“You… I will tear you apart right here!”
His twin blades crossed and fell in a perfect cutting line—impossible to dodge or parry.
At that moment, I steadied my breath and closed my eyes. Then I took a single step forward.
Tap.
My body moved half a breath faster. He had not realized I had been reading every one of his forms.
“White Dragon Sword Scripture.”
My blade traced a circle through the air.
“Sixth Form.”
The final form of the White Dragon Sword Scripture—its ultimate secret technique.
Soul Severing, Sun Extinguishing.
Once the circle was complete, a surge of fierce qi constricted Cheonsu-maje’s entire body and began to ascend.
Clack!
Both crescent blades flew skyward, crossing in midair. At the same time, I lowered my body and drew the sword upward from its root.
Following that trajectory, a deep azure qi sliced through Cheonsu-maje’s form in an instant.
Shhhk!
Blood and demonic qi scattered in a crimson arc. His body staggered half a step backward; a red line opened from his abdomen to his shoulder.
Foolishly, he had tried to evade an attack that could not be evaded.
“It’s over,” I said quietly.
I was severely exhausted as well.
Thud!
Yet Cheonsu-maje’s knees buckled first. Blood tears streaked his face as a final spark of madness flashed in his eyes.
“Kuhuh… you monster…”
Froth bubbled at his lips—rage, and something beyond it: a hollow, despairing laugh.
“I… to be done in by… a mere whelp like you…”
His eyes grew dull. In his final moment, he looked toward Lee Eul.
She stood frozen in horror, watching. Cheonsu-maje smiled at her—brightly, with all his remaining strength—as though speaking silent words.
The crimson mist faded. Silence descended upon Blood Mountain Valley.
I shook the blood from my blade and caught my breath. The aftershock of the final strike still tingled along my wrist.
“It’s finished.”
Muyoung approached from behind and supported me.
“That was magnificent, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
I gazed down at Cheonsu-maje’s corpse and murmured,
“You found your grave just like a ghost, Cheonsu-maje.”
One of the Twelve Demon Emperors—the monstrous prodigy of innate strength—was dead.
And…
I turned my gaze to Lee Eul. She had collapsed to the ground, weeping endlessly.
“What shall we do? Shall we simply let her go?” Muyoung asked.
I chuckled.
Let her go? Who? A demonic cultivator? One who bore a grudge against me? And risk a knife in the back later?
Clack.
I picked up Muyoung’s sword and walked slowly toward Lee Eul. She seemed to sense her death; her expression was oddly calm.
Just as I raised the blade to strike—
“W-wait a moment.”
Lee Eul lifted a hand and stood. I halted mid-swing.
“I’m afraid begging for your life won’t work,” I said.
She shook her head.
“No. I won’t do that. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“I cannot let my lord become food for beasts like that.”
“……”
“I will bury him. After that… please kill me.”
I let out a hollow laugh at her words.
“Still putting on airs until the very end?”
“It doesn’t matter what you say. Just let me do this one thing.”
“Ridiculous. Did you or your kind ever show mercy to those you killed? Did you grant their final requests? They still wander the nine heavens.”
“……”
Lee Eul ignored me, rose, and walked slowly toward Cheonsu-maje. Tears streamed endlessly from her eyes as she approached his still-warm body.
Her footsteps scraped against the rocks—step, step. Her fingertips gently lifted the blood-soaked hem of his robe.
“…My lord.”
The single word shattered her voice. She dropped to her knees. Dirt and blood stained her palms, but she paid no heed. Carefully, she lifted Cheonsu-maje’s head onto her lap and stroked his cheek as though trying to wake him.
“If you were going to leave like this… you should never have taken me in that day.”
Her voice trembled, yet the suppressed sobs carried a low resonance. Her eyes grew hazy as memories of their time together flashed through her mind—days of fierce battles, nights when he lit fires against the cold, awkward words of comfort accompanied by cups of wine…
His breathing could no longer be heard. Still, she pressed her ear close, hoping for even the faintest trace of breath.
“I… liked your smile more than anything. It was the first and last thing I ever liked about you.”
Her lips quivered; a small sob escaped. Weeping, she began gathering stones and stacking them over his legs, one by one.
“Even when you were covered in blood and everyone else turned away in fear, I didn’t know to be afraid. I stayed by your side because I loved that smile.”
Her shoulders shook. Hot tears fell—one drop, two drops—onto Cheonsu-maje’s cooling face, mixing with blood and spreading darkly.
“To leave so meaninglessly… how could you… how could you…”
He remained cruel to the end. No answer came, no excuse. Only the wind whistled mournfully through the rocks of Blood Mountain Valley.
Lee Eul took his hand, already stiffening, and clasped it tightly. With her last strength, she smiled.
“Let’s go together.”
She placed his hand upon her chest, then laid one final stone over his heart. His entire body, save for his face, was now covered in stones.
In a barely audible voice, she offered her last farewell.
“In the next life… please be born as my lord again.”
At that moment, her body pitched forward.
A grotesque, one-sided devotion blooming among those worse than beasts.
That was why I had waited instead of killing her immediately. Her presence had oddly held my ankle.
It was the only—and final—mercy a victor could grant the defeated.
Since she had finished her farewell, I drove the sword through her neck without hesitation.
Muyoung lowered his head and slowly sheathed his blade.
Two bodies lay side by side upon the ground. The crimson mist had completely dissipated; only silence remained in Blood Mountain Valley.
I stared at the scene for a moment, then turned away in silence.
“…This is the martial world. This is what it means to be a martial artist.”
Only the sound of my footsteps faded into that stillness.
I did not know to whom I spoke. Perhaps it was merely a form of self-hypnosis, so that I would not go mad.
Or perhaps I simply did not care.
All that remained was the resolve that this was the martial world—and that I must survive within it.
Still…
Unconsciously, I glanced back at the fallen pair.
In the next life…
I shook the blood from my sword.
“Meet as ordinary lovers.”
A brief blessing carried away on the wind. That was enough.
I turned and walked on without looking back. The karma I had to bear in life was heavier than the stories of the dead.
* * *
Deep darkness.
At the entrance to Blood Mountain Valley, a figure clad in blood-red robes approached. It was Hyeol-hon-sal, one of the Four Calamities of the Demonic Cult.
Though few ever set foot here, he moved with practiced ease, as if familiar with the place.
“Tsk, tsk.”
He clicked his tongue in apparent regret upon discovering the cold corpses of Cheonsu-maje and Lee Eul. Then he carefully examined the wounds on Cheonsu-maje’s body.
“So this is the sword art of the Ju family’s youngest…”
No ordinary skill. At this level, even among the Twelve Demon Emperors, only the upper ranks would stand a chance. From the beginning, the matchup had been unfair.
“Such fine materials shouldn’t go to waste. Indeed.”
Hyeol-hon-sal hoisted both bodies onto his shoulders and turned away. After taking exactly three steps, his figure dissolved into a crimson mist and vanished.
Left behind in the empty valley stood a single small stone cairn—no one knew who had built it.