Chapter 1297: Is There a Place to Rest In This Land? (Part 2)

"Argh! You righteous sect bastards!"

"Dieeeee!"

A lightning-fast sword strike flew toward the necks of the charging opponents, who flipped their eyes.

Swoosh!

The powerful sword strike left only a small whistling sound. The small sound made the process of cutting through flesh and bones, separating neck and body seem insignificant.

Swoosh swoosh!

Finally, the dark blade, like flowing dark water, sliced through the opponent's arm tendons, from elbow to wrist. Even if a person's heart is cut, he or she can still move for a while.

Hasn't there been one or two people who've tried to move forward, confident that their opponent's heart had been cut, but died after being stabbed in the back?

He didn't think with his head.

The experience he had accumulated layer by layer onto the edges of his sword, the tips of his fingers, and innate instincts guided the sword naturally.

Paaaaat!

When another enemy rushing with evil intent was spotted, Chung Myung moved faster than his head.

Clang!

Just like before, Chung Myung, who had been slashing forward in one go like before, suddenly paused for the first time. He stared at the sword stuck in his enemy's neck.

"K... Kruk... Kruk..."

Above it, the eyes of the opponent, half-closed and soon to be completely closed, were engulfed in fear.

As if sensing his impending end.

The eyes, full of fear, soon turned into resentment.

Exerting strength with his wrist, Chung Myung pulled the sword stuck in the opponent's throat.

Sheeeeek!

The sword, scratching against bones, was pulled out. Blood spurted out like a fountain.

"Ugh..."

The trembling opponent weakly slammed his face into the ground. The eyes that once contained fear no longer had anything in them. The cloudy, empty eyes reflected the emptiness of the world.

Chung Myung, who had casually observed the fallen enemy, looked down at his sword.

The Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword.

It wasn't damaged. It was just dulled by the oil of the opponent's body. As he sliced and sliced, the accumulated oil had piled up layer by layer. Like the resentment built up against him.

In the past, he might have used his hands to wipe his sword before it became this dirty, but it seemed his senses hadn't fully recovered yet.

Paaaaat!

The inner force pushed onto the Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword blew away the oil on the sword at once. Chung Myung raised his head and looked forward.

The forest spread out in front of him had been an ordinary place, but it was no longer the forest people once knew. The fresh smell of grass had been replaced by the thick scent of blood, and the quiet grounds, where the sounds of grasshoppers would be heard sporadically, were now disturbed by harsh screams.

Chung Myung felt an unavoidable familiarity in this dreadful space, filled with flesh-tearing murder and the thick stench of blood.

He suddenly felt disgusted by that fact.

'How much farther do I have to go?'

The heaviness that started from his hand spread throughout his body. Whether it was because the inner force was depleted or not, there was a feeling that the world was gradually becoming blurry. It was a sensation that felt familiar, yet could never be friendly.

Chung Myung bit his lip.

The Demonic Sect was close to an elite group. Each of their powers far surpassed ordinary martial artists in the central region. Moreover, among those elites, the power of the bishops, who were selected and stood out, amazed the heavens and shook the earth.

But this battle was different from his past battles with the Demonic Sect.

It didn't end even if you cut them.

Each one was by no means strong. No, from Chung Myung's perspective, they were so weak that they could be ignored. If it weren't for the situation where he was leading the Southern Island Sect, or if the Heavenly Comrade Alliance could move alone, they would have already penetrated more than half of Gangnam.

But these worthless guys rushed in like a swarm of mosquitoes.

It wasn't like they were charging without caring about their lives, like the Demonic Sect. They didn't have the madness or determination to die for their faith.

These individuals even trembled with terror, and without knowing what to do with the fear, they ultimately embraced evil and charged forward. Cutting off the throats of such individuals was a dirtier task than anything he had experienced before.

"Whew..."

Chung Myung took a deep breath. Then, he turned his gaze backward.

Those wielding swords were still relentlessly charging towards the Southern Island Sect. Unlike before, the Southern Island Sect's disciples, who now seemed to understand what a battle was and what it meant to fight for their lives, did not retreat but confronted the enemies head-on.

"Argh!"

Warm blood splattered on the face of one of the Southern Island Sect's disciples who had thrust his sword into the enemy's chest. The entirely soaked face only revealed distorted eyes and tightly clenched teeth.

Righteousness, justice, and perhaps ambition (雄心).

Were those really things they sought on this land? Did they know what their appearance looked like right now?

War is like a vicious abyss, pushing everything bright within a person deep into the darkness, beyond the reach of human hands.

And what remains are only the most primal instincts—survival and hatred.

"Dieeeee!"

Already with pierced chests and interrupted breaths, more swords were continuously thrust into lifeless bodies.

There was no room for a detached assessment of the enemy's condition. Even if the enemy's throat had been severed, another sword just like it would have plunged into the dead body.

Expressions of hatred or fear.

The things that once prevented humans from becoming mere beasts gradually sank deeply. Humans who once willingly offered their food to the needy now thrust a sword into the body of a corpse that used to be a fellow human, screaming.

This was the battlefield that Chung Myung knew.

"Argh!"

"Sahyung!"

Everyone had their own sense of justice and perspective. But here, all of that was meaningless.

The moment an enemy's sword was plunged into your body, and your comrade bled under an enemy's sword, reason lost its strength.

"These damn bastards! I'll kill them!"

Only malice remained and endlessly expanded.

Without thrusting a sword into the enemy's heart, it wouldn't loosen... no. Even thrusting a sword didn't loosen the malice.

"Argh!"

One of the Southern Island Sect's disciples rushed forward with a scream, thrusting his cherished sword into the opponent's throat.

The sword pierced through the neck, protruding from the blood-soaked skin.

No one could easily become accustomed to murder, and it should not be familiar. But just a moment ago, despite committing murder with his own hands, there was no sense of guilt or remorse in his eyes.

Instead, eagerly pushing the sword harder, moving forward, forward, embracing evil and advancing.

"Sohyeob!"  [polite address]

Yoon Jong reached out and grabbed the man's shoulders.

"Let go!"

As the man tried to push him away and move forward, Yoon Jong tightened his grip on the man's shoulders. In the moment of surging pain, the man looked back at Yoon Jong with eyes full of murderous intent.

Yoon Jong, even facing that vitality head-on, shouted calmly.

"Calm down! You'll die if you get too excited!"

"Ugh..."

The man bit his lips and turned his gaze away. The sight of his Sahyung, who had fallen bleeding, came into view. Only now did his hands begin to tremble.

"Sahyung! Are you okay?"

"Ugh..."

"Doctor! Doctor, here! Someone's dying here! Here!"

"Calm down! He won't die from this!"

"Hae Won (海院) died like that too, didn't he! You said he wouldn't die!"

The outburst of words stunned those around him.

"How can I believe... How can I believe that...!"

Sobbing, he clutched onto the hem of the fallen Sahyung's clothes and screamed hysterically.

"Doctor! Doctor...!"

"I'm already here, so stop searching!"

Covered in blood, Tang Soso rushed forward, promptly assessing the situation and applying pressure to the wounds as if pouring hemostatic solution onto them. [?] Her movements were calm and swift.

"Here! Grab here. We need to stop the bleeding! Hold tight so that not a drop of blood passes through!"

"Yes!"

Tang Soso gritted her teeth.

'We've shed too much blood.'

No tears flowed. No, to be precise, they no longer flowed because they had already been shed.

She, too, was not accustomed to death. In the past, she had witnessed the deaths of patients coming to the clinic several times. However, this was the first time she had witnessed so many people who had been perfectly alive a moment ago rapidly dying, and experiencing the helplessness of being unable to do anything as a doctor.

Too many deaths had swiftly struck in a short period. Of course, in a situation where everyone around her, including patients, was eagerly looking at her alone, the burden was even more overwhelming.

It wasn't her fault that she couldn't prevent impending death. Tang Soso knew that. However, knowing it intellectually didn't mean she could accept it emotionally.

Tang Soso... all this death seemed to be solely her fault.

"Squeeze it tightly! Damn it!"

"Yes! Yes! I understand!"

She gritted her teeth and applied an ointment to the wound. Normally, she would have stitched it up and finished it, but there was no time for that now. Since it was a specially made ointment from the clinic, it would prevent the wound from reopening for a while.

For now, they had to stop the bleeding, and detailed treatment would have to be postponed.

"It's done! Move inside!"

"Yes!"

The people around, now relieved, picked up the fallen person.

"Not good..."

Tang Soso's face darkened rapidly.

She had barely saved a life, but now there was one more injured person. As the number of injured people who couldn't function properly increased, the movement speed could only decline. With fewer people able to fight and more people having to carry the injured, the situation became more difficult.

Moreover, even during this, the main force of the Myriad Man Manor was approaching step by step.

"Soso, are you o..."

Paaaaaah!

"W-What are you doing!"

Jo Gol, who was worrying, suddenly looked terrified as he stared at Tang Soso. A stream of blood flowed from her burst lips.

What surprised Jo Gol even more was that Tang Soso herself had burst her lips with a fierce slap.

"Why, why are you doing this?"

"No, it's okay."

"What...?"

"It's okay. I'm conscious now, so my head must have gone a little crazy for a moment. Forget about these thoughts."

Jo Gol couldn't bring himself to ask what 'these thoughts' were. Looking at Tang Soso's expression, anyone would be speechless.

Besides, now was not the time to casually ask about such things.

"We have to go."

"Yeah, we have to go."

Nodding, Jo Gol gritted his teeth.

How much had they cut down?

How many had they killed?

And when would this road ever end?

With battles continuing without a break, the sharpened nerves gradually felt as if they were piercing the brain.

At that moment, Jo Gol jumped sharply. He felt something approaching from the front and shouted suddenly.

"They're coming! It's not going to be easy!"

Before the words could finish, a group dressed in red robes, like wolves charging towards deer, poured out of the thickets like a surge.