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#14 “Bring Them Back Alive”
Jin Yeong-chung maintained his stance, holding his sword vertically.
Cheol Gun-ak charged forward.
The first step.
Then the second.
Thud—.
“There’s an opening.”
Jin Yeong-chung had been waiting for this moment.
With a single stomp of his right foot, he launched himself toward Cheol Gun-ak like an arrow released from a bow.
Qing River Sixteen Sword Technique.
Great Expansion.
Whoosh—!
A torrent of energy swirled around the blade, bending even the raindrops in its path. From Jin Yeong-chung’s hand erupted a long, powerful vertical slash.
‘A clean and precise sword path!’
This was a sword honed not through training but through real combat.
Cheol Gun-ak thrust Heuk-ya toward the descending blade.
Clang—!
The diagonal tilt of Heuk-ya caused Jin Yeong-chung’s sword to slide down its surface.
Swish-swish-swish—.
Sparks flew as metal met metal. The sheer force of the slash nearly bent Cheol Gun-ak’s wrist, but thanks to the protective armor on his arms, he managed to endure it.
And after such a massive and overwhelming attack, there was always—
‘An opening!’
As the vertical slash passed by, Jin Yeong-chung’s chest was momentarily exposed.
Crack—.
Cheol Gun-ak clenched his left fist.
Using the rotational force to deflect the sword, he drove his fist forward with all his might.
Bam!!
The sound of a great drum tearing apart echoed through the air.
‘I broke it.’
The sensation at his fingertips confirmed it.
His punch had undoubtedly shattered several of Jin Yeong-chung’s ribs. Fortunately—or unfortunately—he hadn’t pierced any vital organs.
Still, the impact was enough to leave Jin Yeong-chung gasping for breath, his face turning pale.
But Jin Yeong-chung was no ordinary warrior. As a member of the Qingming Squad, he was like a moth drawn to flames, guarding the frontlines of the Northern Heavens. Twisting his body backward, he redirected the momentum, flicking his sword upward.
Qing River Sixteen Sword Technique.
Soul Guidance─!
Swish-swish-swish—.
Blood, rainwater, and a faint glow of fire flowed along the edge of Jin Yeong-chung’s blade.
From below to above.
A fatal diagonal slash aimed at Cheol Gun-ak’s torso.
A swordsman wielding a blade couldn’t possibly block this strike!
‘If you’re a swordsman, that is.’
Cheol Gun-ak wasn’t the “Peerless Sword Emperor” but the “Peerless Martial God.” Naturally, a sword was just one of many weapons to him.
Tapt.
Casually, he let go of Heuk-ya.
Seeing this, Jin Yeong-chung’s eyes widened in shock.
Great Expansion.
Cheol Gun-ak extended his left arm like a sword, mimicking the vertical slash he had seen earlier.
Tatatatat—!
Jin Yeong-chung’s sword grazed off the protective armor, sending sparks flying.
Soul Guidance.
With his right arm, which had released Heuk-ya, Cheol Gun-ak swung upward, crossing his arms into an X-shape with Jin Yeong-chung’s blade.
Whoooooosh—.
The wind howled.
Jin Yeong-chung’s fatal slash was firmly caught between Cheol Gun-ak’s two arms.
Cheol Gun-ak then drew a large circle with both arms, deflecting the blade to the side.
“…!”
While Jin Yeong-chung’s Qing River Sixteen Sword Technique was entirely rigid, the technique Cheol Gun-ak displayed with his arms was a graceful curve, embodying softness.
“How… how is this possible?!”
Jin Yeong-chung saw a glimpse of an impossibly high-level martial art. With his last ounce of strength, he gazed at Cheol Gun-ak with awe.
Tapt.
Cheol Gun-ak picked up Heuk-ya, which had been stuck in the ground, with his right hand.
“Well done.”
“…!”
Though the protective armor prevented external injuries, the force of the blow still screamed through his arms.
Ignoring the pain, Cheol Gun-ak gritted his teeth and swung Heuk-ya.
Swish-swish-swish—.
The sound of the rain drowned out everything.
Rumble-rumble-rumble—.
Jin Yeong-chung’s head rolled across the ground, his eyes wide open.
The blood splattered onto Cheol Gun-ak, staining him crimson.
As if waiting for this moment, the flames of Mu Hwa Pavilion surged violently, turning the blood into a deep scarlet hue.
‘It doesn’t feel good.’
Good warriors were rare.
Even after traveling across the martial world, Cheol Gun-ak had encountered few like Jin Yeong-chung. Cutting him down left a bitter taste in his mouth.
For a moment, Cheol Gun-ak tilted his face upward, letting the rain wash away the blood.
But just as Jin Yeong-chung’s loyalty to protecting his younger brother clung to him, so too did the blood refuse to wash away completely.
‘He held on until the end.’
Cheol Gun-ak smiled bitterly.
This was another burden he would have to bear, so he casually wiped the area around his eyes with his hand.
“A demon!”
Cheol Weigang stumbled backward before collapsing onto the muddy ground.
Before him stood Cheol Gun-ak, his fingers tracing lines of blood like veins, drenched in the crimson life of Jin Yeong-chung.
They weren’t brothers.
Not even of the same ‘Cheol’ lineage.
This was a walking hell—one that terrified anyone who merely shared the same land.
“What demon?”
Squelch—.
Cheol Gun-ak let Heuk-ya hang loosely by his side as he walked toward him.
“You should call me Brother, you fool.”
“Who are you?!”
Kaboom—!
Lightning struck again.
Cheol Weigang scrambled desperately in the mud, trying to put distance between them.
“You’re definitely not Cheol Gun-ak!”
“The Cheol Gun-ak you know was the idiot who endured everything—even when Grandmother’s face was scarred or when his mother turned to ashes in the forge.”
“…”
It was Cheol Weigang who had immediately called for guards upon hearing of a threat to Golden Nine Pavilion.
But now, thinking about the Cheol Gun-ak who lost his mother and witnessed Grandmother’s scars, he found himself unable to speak.
“And today, you came here to kill me.”
The flames of Mu Hwa Pavilion grew brighter, illuminating the surroundings.
In contrast, darkness settled over Cheol Gun-ak’s face.
Even within that darkness, Cheol Weigang couldn’t move under the weight of Cheol Gun-ak’s pitch-black gaze.
A walking hell stared down at him.
“If you’re a warrior, act like one. If you’re my brother, don’t disgrace yourself in your final moments.”
Final.
That single word pierced deep into Cheol Weigang’s mind.
Cheol Gun-ak had mercilessly killed the Black Shadow warriors and even Jin Yeong-chung.
He had calmly held the lives of Golden Nine Pavilion members in his hands, even with blades at his throat.
“Brother!”
Thud—.
Cheol Weigang dropped to his knees, bowing his head and pleading desperately.
“It’s all a misunderstanding!”
Cheol Gun-ak’s gaze turned icy.
Desperate to survive, Cheol Weigang began spewing words without thought.
Revenge or anything else could only come after surviving.
“I can explain everything that happened today. And if you spare me, I’ll persuade Lord Jin Gu to reward you handsomely!”
“And?”
“I’ll make Mother apologize for poisoning you, and I’ll convince Father to reconsider his stance toward you!”
“Good.”
Cheol Gun-ak smirked.
Taking this as a positive sign, Cheol Weigang forced a smile and replied.
“Yes, Brother! Everything will be fine. After all, we’re brothers sharing the same bloodline, so please spare me!”
Kaboom—!
Lightning struck again.
Cheol Gun-ak stared coldly at Cheol Weigang before speaking.
“If you had said those things while my mother was still alive, it truly would have been good.”
“W-What do you mean…!”
Swish—.
He swung Heuk-ya.
Cheol Weigang’s vision began tilting diagonally before he collapsed into the mud.
His final sight was of Cheol Gun-ak’s boots and the black blade dripping with blood.
Cheol Gun-ak glanced briefly at the severed head.
For a moment, he considered taking it to pressure Golden Nine Pavilion, but he quickly shook his head.
‘I’m not a member of the Dark Emperor Sect.’
No matter what, he didn’t want to stoop to threatening parents with their child’s head.
The Dark Emperor Sect might do such things, but he wanted to maintain some semblance of humanity.
‘Unless it’s for Grandmother, of course.’
Swish-swish-swish—.
The cold rain continued to pour endlessly.
Cheol Gun-ak’s muscles cooled, and steam rose explosively from his body.
Twenty Black Shadow warriors.
Jin Yeong-chung of the Qingming Squad.
And third son Cheol Weigang.
Cheol Gun-ak surveyed the corpses of his enemies and smiled bitterly.
“Is this the end?”
His entire body screamed in agony.
His bones were on the verge of collapse, and his muscles and tendons, having surpassed their limits, were ready to give out.
Had he not reached the First Meridian, he would already be dead.
Tapt.
Mu Hwa Pavilion was burning like a bonfire, so he couldn’t enter.
Seeking temporary shelter from the rain, Cheol Gun-ak moved under the small eaves of the main gate and crouched down, cradling Heuk-ya.
A warrior who had defeated dozens of enemies in a fierce battle.
But Cheol Gun-ak was prouder of protecting Grandmother today than of any victory.
Swoosh—.
He opened his left palm.
The jade fragment was still embedded there, glowing faintly.
“Even if I turn back time, living as a man of the Northern Heavens is damn hard.”
His exhausted body and depleted meridians left him unable to move further.
Tapt.
He let his left hand fall.
Staring at the endless rain, he lowered his head.
Planning to rest here until dawn, he intended to return to Yi Hwa Pavilion to retrieve Grandmother and the young maid.
At that moment—
Roar-roar-roar—.
In Cheol Gun-ak’s arms, Heuk-ya ominously flashed. A crimson miasma seeped out, obscuring his vision.
Gradually, a blurry scene emerged, as if viewed through multiple layers of glass.
‘Yoo-ha Pavilion?’
The location was Golden Nine Pavilion’s Yoo-ha Pavilion. Judging by the heavy downpour, it was likely tonight.
—Young Master.
Though faint, the voice was unmistakably Grandmother’s.
—A man of the Northern Heavens…
Her chest bore a sword wound.
Beside her lay the young maid, already dead in a pool of blood.
A gaunt old man loomed over them, visible in glimpses.
After showing this single scene, the miasma from Heuk-ya dissipated into the air, as if paying the price for the blood it had consumed today.
“…!”
Roar-roar-roar—.
The burning Mu Hwa Pavilion came back into view.
Cheol Gun-ak bit his lip.
He glared fiercely at Heuk-ya, which now sat quietly as if nothing had happened.
‘Grandmother and the maid are in Yi Hwa Pavilion.’
There was no connection between him and Yi Hwa Pavilion.
Moreover, why would they target Grandmother instead of him directly?
Logically, what Heuk-ya had shown should have been dismissed as absurd nonsense.
But—
Cheol Gun-ak felt an indescribable intuition. It was a premonition of what would happen if he fell asleep here.
“What do you want from me?”
No matter how mysterious it was, it was still just a sword.
Naturally, there was no answer.
But Cheol Gun-ak had no choice but to ask again.
“Why show me this?”
A demonic sword that had never killed before.
A masterless demonic sword.
Now, with Cheol Gun-ak as its master, it fulfilled its role as a sword.
Did it lead him to death?
Or did it feed on death as repayment?
“It’s truly a demonic sword.”
In the end, Heuk-ya was a demonic sword because it drove its master to fight.
Even though the First Burning Divine Flame could heal his body, it couldn’t instantly erase the fatigue etched into his flesh and mind from overexertion.
Nevertheless—
Grrr—.
Cheol Gun-ak forced himself to stand.
The night was far from over.
***
Yi Hwa Pavilion was located between Mu Hwa Pavilion and Yoo-ha Pavilion.
The positioning was intentional, separating the two mistresses as far as possible while symbolizing Yi Hwa Pavilion’s neutrality.
Thud—.
Inside Yi Hwa Pavilion.
Un Nok-san, who had been sleeping, jolted awake at a strange vibration. Opening his eyes, he saw only the dark ceiling and heard the deafening rain pounding against the windows.
“Was it a ghost?”
Un Nok-san shivered, pulling the thin blanket closer to his body.
It was rare for him to wake up suddenly in the middle of the night unless he had drunk too much the previous day or felt unwell.
Yet here he was, abruptly awakened. Something felt ominous.
Suppressing the unease, he tried to roll over and go back to sleep when—
Thud—!
The sound he had heard in his half-sleep came again.
Who could be knocking on the door of Yi Hwa Pavilion at this hour?
Startled, his hair stood on end.
Then, suddenly—
—Today, I’d like you to take in Grandmother and this child as patients.
Cheol Gun-ak’s face, forcefully entrusting them to him, flashed in his mind.
Acting on instinct, Un Nok-san hurriedly got up. Fumbling to light a lantern and grabbing an umbrella, he stepped outside.
Passing through the small courtyard, he approached the main gate of Yi Hwa Pavilion, trembling as he held out the lantern.
“M-Master Cheol Gun-ak?”
Thud.
The sound seemed to respond.
Un Nok-san set down the lantern and opened the gate.
“Hiiik—!”
He shrieked, falling backward onto his rear.
The source of the sound was none other than Cheol Gun-ak.
In his left hand, he held someone’s severed head.