04

#4 “You Should Know This”

Cheol Gun-ak narrowed his eyes, sizing up Jin Myeong-hwa and Sudeok. The smug look on Jin Myeong-hwa’s face was irritating enough, but Sudeok had already drawn his sword, practically radiating murderous intent.

‘So Jin Myeong-hwa really is tied to the Dark Emperor Sect.’

The sect worshipped the Dark Emperor like some kind of god—believers who thought he’d return after an eternity (or kalpa, as they called it). It was kind of like how Buddhists believed Gautama Buddha would come back as Maitreya under the Dragon Flower Tree after, what, 56.7 billion years? Crazy, right?

For the Dark Emperor Sect, though, his return meant something darker—an eternal winter where everything froze over, equal and still. To them, it wasn’t destruction; it was paradise. And they were convinced they’d be the first ones ushered into that icy utopia.

‘Central Plains really got wiped out because of these lunatics.’

But seriously, how could anyone with a lifespan of less than a hundred years wait around for something so absurdly far off? So, naturally, their goals shifted—they wanted to speed things up. Instead of waiting, they decided to bring about their apocalypse themselves by unsealing the Dark Emperor from his prison in the Extreme North.

And guess where most of their chaos spilled over? The Northern Heavens.

‘No matter how many you kill, they just keep coming back.’

Cheol Gun-ak hated the Dark Emperor Sect with every fiber of his being. But if he was being honest, he had to admit—he respected their persistence. In the Northern Heavens, anyone even suspected of having ties to the sect was detained and beaten without a second thought. Harsh? Sure. Effective? Not really. Like termites, the sect kept burrowing deeper into the region.

One big reason stood out: Black Blood.

‘It really is pitch-black.’

Black Blood was no joke. For people without talent, it gave them talent. For those desperate for internal energy, it boosted their cultivation. If you were short on luck, it brought fortune. Whatever you needed, Black Blood adapted to fit. Some miracle, huh? And the more you drank, the stronger you got. Who wouldn’t be tempted by that?

Which was exactly why the sect kept thriving, even under constant persecution.

Then a thought hit Cheol Gun-ak.

‘Wait… am I part of the Dark Emperor Sect too?’

He blinked.

Technically, the “Black Blood” currently circulating among sect members was probably a knockoff version of the real thing since the Dark Emperor himself was still sealed away in the Extreme North. But Cheol Gun-ak? Oh, he’d gone straight to the source in his past life. He’d guzzled the genuine article—and plenty of it.

‘If I drank that much real Black Blood, shouldn’t I be stronger than any ordinary initiate? Though, considering it happened in my previous life, there’s no telling what effect it has now.’

But honestly, did it matter?

‘Anything useful is good enough.’

After all, wasn’t he known as the Peerless Martial God for grabbing whatever weapons he could find on the battlefield? Black Blood was just another tool in his arsenal.

Thud—.

Cheol Gun-ak stepped forward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Shall we start cutting off arms?”

Twitch—twitch—.

He flicked his left hand tauntingly. Sudeok’s face turned red at the provocation.

“Whatever madness has taken hold of you, you’ll regret it.”

Sudeok’s killing intent spiked. Through Cheol Gun-ak’s naked eye, he could see the orb of Black Blood in Sudeok’s heart starting to wane. He inwardly smirked. Normally, spotting a Dark Emperor Sect member visually was impossible.

The surest way involved Qingming Needles—rare treasures made from Hanbing Jade found only in tiny quantities in the Northern Sea Ice Palace. Once used, they disappeared, making them impractical for widespread use.

‘They were practically nonexistent in the Central Plains. Only top-tier figures in the Northern Heavens might have them.’

Besides, using a Qingming Needle implied treating someone as a confirmed sect member. In the impulsive Northern Heavens, enemies’ hearts were usually sliced open directly instead. After all, checking for Black Blood was simpler that way.

Swoosh—.

Cheol Gun-ak began circling slowly. Opposite him, Sudeok mirrored his movements, steadying his breath.

Whoooooosh—.

A warm spring breeze stirred their hair—a rare sensation in the Northern Heavens. At that moment, a dry leaf drifted between them, carried by the wind. It floated through the exact spot where their gazes met.

Ting—.

Sudeok kicked off the ground. With a light swing of his sword, he aimed for Cheol Gun-ak’s arm.

Fei Ying Thirty-Two Sword Technique.

Swishhhhh—.

This technique, favored by the envoys of the Golden Nine Pavilion, mimicked the glide of an eagle descending with its talons extended. Sudeok’s blade targeted Cheol Gun-ak’s arm with precision.

‘Not bad.’

Cheol Gun-ak expected someone chosen by the Golden Nine Pavilion to be at least decent—but this level?

‘This guy could rival peak masters.’

His internal energy was slightly lacking, but his swordsmanship was sharp enough to match a top expert.

Schwing—!

Despite dodging quickly, Cheol Gun-ak couldn’t avoid a shallow cut across his skin and clothing.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt!”

Sudeok shouted as he slashed downward diagonally. Cheol Gun-ak tried to evade to the right, but he was too slow and took another gash across his chest.

‘Damn. Not enough time.’

He could clearly see Sudeok’s movements, but his body refused to cooperate. Worse, he hadn’t eaten properly during his mother’s funeral over the past three days—just water and breakfast today. His physical condition was shot.

Swiiiiiish—!

Sudeok’s upward strike aimed for Cheol Gun-ak’s jaw. Though he sidestepped, the persistent arc of the blade grazed him again.

Slash—slash—.

Cheol Gun-ak managed to dodge each blow, but the gap in basic physical abilities left his flesh repeatedly torn.

“Stop playing around and finish him!”

Jin Myeong-hwa barked impatiently. Sudeok obediently followed the forms of the Fei Ying Thirty-Two Sword Technique, executing skillful strikes. Meanwhile, Cheol Gun-ak looked clumsy, flailing wildly—an obvious sign, according to Jin Myeong-hwa, that he hadn’t trained properly. But frustratingly, none of Sudeok’s attacks landed decisively.

“Damn it!”

Sudeok gritted his teeth. It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying his best. Yet no matter how hard he pushed, his strikes failed to connect cleanly—it felt like trying to cut flowing water. His grip tightened further as frustration mounted.

Swishhh—!!

Sudeok’s attacks grew more vicious. Abandoning attempts to sever limbs, he focused solely on ending Cheol Gun-ak’s life.

‘So this is truly my rebirth.’

On the other hand, Cheol Gun-ak smiled grimly beneath the increasingly deadly barrage. Moments ago, he wondered if this entire scene might be part of a dying flashback. Everyone experienced death differently; perhaps this was his version. But now…

Schliiip—!

Sudeok’s blade sliced deep into Cheol Gun-ak’s thigh. Pain shot through him as blood spurted forth. Even Sudeok’s crimson eyes, filled with veins, seemed demonic.

‘Hell. The hell where I lived and died—the Iron-Sick Cheol Family.’

Smirk—.

Cheol Gun-ak grinned widely, drenched in blood. Startled by the sight, Sudeok hesitated for a split second.

“Will you laugh like that even as a corpse?!”

With a snarl, Sudeok thrust his sword forward.

Fei Ying Thirty-Two Sword Technique.
Right Horizontal Strike.

The horizontal slash approached too fast for Cheol Gun-ak’s untrained body to react. Death loomed closer—until…

Whoosh—.

Another inferno ignited within him. A small flame dormant in his dantian erupted, fueled by the meager internal energy he’d accumulated thus far—but it was enough.

“Farewell, Young Master!”

Sudeok cleaved downward, expecting flesh to tear and organs to spill. Instead…

Crack—crack—.

What he felt wasn’t soft flesh but the brittle snap of wood. Dozens of wooden chopsticks spilled from the torn fabric of Cheol Gun-ak’s robes.

“…!”

Sudeok’s eyes widened in shock. As he faltered, Cheol Gun-ak crouched low, clutching a chopstick in each hand.

Zhu Rong Devil Arts.

Blaze—blaze—blaze—!

Deng Huo.

Under Cheol Gun-ak’s will, scorching divine flames surged through his meridians.

Dao Lun Chu.

His body moved faster than ever before, transcending its prior limits.

“Young—Mas—ter…”

Time slowed for Sudeok. Within this stretched moment, Cheol Gun-ak raised his left hand like lightning—

Pierce—.

—and drove a chopstick into Sudeok’s ear canal. Before the weak Zhu Rong Devil Arts dissipated…

Snap!

He spun backward, evading Sudeok’s desperate counterattack, then plunged the chopstick in his right hand into the soft flesh beneath Sudeok’s chin.

“—ter.”

Burst—!

Blood erupted from Sudeok’s ear and chin. Gasping for breath, Cheol Gun-ak addressed him coldly.

“You go ahead.”

Confusion flickered in Sudeok’s eyes before he collapsed face-first onto the ground.

Boom—!

The impact shook the Jade Pavilion. Ignoring his own bloody state, Cheol Gun-ak pulled another set of chopsticks from his sleeve. Stepping onto Sudeok’s prone body, he pressed down on his chest and—

Squish.

—plunged the chopsticks into Sudeok’s heart, targeting the Black Blood within.

“What… what is this—?”

Jin Myeong-hwa blinked rapidly, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. The once serene garden of the Jade Pavilion was now drenched in blood. Her stalwart guard, Sudeok, lay dead with chopsticks protruding from his body. And most unbelievably…

Swoosh—.

Cheol Gun-ak stood amidst the carnage, his blood-soaked figure grinning wickedly as he combed back his hair with a bloody hand.

“Let’s play a game.”

Holding chopsticks in both hands, Cheol Gun-ak advanced step by step. Each movement produced squelching sounds as blood dripped from his feet. Jin Myeong-hwa scrambled backward until she hit the wall.

“Today, our grandmother received a scar on her face. Why do you think that happened?”

Cheol Gun-ak splattered more blood across the garden as he closed in.

“They say it was to protect my meal. What kind of meal warranted risking her life—and my mother’s—for decades?”

“You bastard! Do you even know who I am—?”

Jin Myeong-hwa screamed, but her voice died mid-sentence.

Snap—!

Cheol Gun-ak hurled a chopstick into the wall beside her head. Having witnessed Sudeok’s fate, terror gripped her anew.

“And what was our grandmother’s name?”

“How the hell should I know the name of some nobody!”

Cheol Gun-ak stopped a single step away, staring down at her with emotionless black eyes. Jin Myeong-hwa, daughter of the Golden Nine Pavilion Lord, was renowned for her boldness and ambition, traits that rivaled most men.

“You need to know.”

But now, standing before Cheol Gun-ak as he emerged from hell itself, she could do nothing.

“Guess correctly, and I’ll let you live.”

Pale-faced, she nodded frantically. But guessing the old woman’s name was impossible. Stammering random names, Jin Myeong-hwa only saw Cheol Gun-ak’s gaze grow colder.

At that moment, she abruptly fell silent. Fear drained from her eyes, replaced by defiance.

“CHEOL—GUN—AK—!”

An overwhelming surge of internal energy shook the Cheol Family estate. Footsteps thundered from all directions as dozens of warriors rushed toward the scene.

“Cheol Gun-ak!! Now that my father and the Cheol Family Guard are here, what can you possibly do?!”

Jin Myeong-hwa shrieked triumphantly. Salvation was near. Trembling with relief, she believed herself safe from Cheol Gun-ak’s hellish grasp.

But…

Click—.

“Like this.”

Cheol Gun-ak seized her slender neck with his left hand and bent his knee, pressing a chopstick against her temple.

Clang—clang—clang—clang—.

Blades crisscrossed around him as guards arrived hastily. Behind them came—

“You fiend!”

Cheol U-saeng, Patriarch of the Iron-Sick Cheol Family, and Cheol Wi-gyeok, the third son. Both recoiled in horror at the sight of the massacred warrior and Sudeok’s corpse. Then they saw it: Jin Myeong-hwa, trembling in fear, her neck trapped in Cheol Gun-ak’s grip.

“Have you finally gone insane?!” Cheol U-saeng roared.

“You should speak carefully, Father.”

Swoosh—.

Ignoring the swords pointed at him, Cheol Gun-ak moved freely. Guards hesitated, fearful of harming either him or Jin Myeong-hwa. Positioning her between them, he pressed the chopstick to her head and spoke calmly.

“The traitor here isn’t me.”

“What nonsense! Even if she wasn’t your birth mother, she’s still your stepmother—”

“She’s a member of the Dark Emperor Sect.”

“What?”

Cheol Gun-ak jerked his chin toward Sudeok’s corpse, a chopstick embedded in his chest, and smirked.

“Both of them are members of the Dark Emperor Sect.”

The spring breeze felt unusually warm today.

“And you, Father, are a traitor to the Northern Heavens for taking a Dark Emperor Sect member as your second wife.”

In Jin Myeong-hwa’s Jade Pavilion, hell had begun anew. Whose hell it belonged to was unclear—but to someone, it was achingly familiar.

Translation: Philia Scans