Chapter 1747. You can think of it as venting my anger (2)

Stab!

A chilling white light pierced the throat of a blood cultist who couldn't escape in time.

Dark Fragrant Plum Blossom Sword.

This unique weapon, wielded by Mount Hua Chivalrous Sword Cheong Myeong, who is considered a demon sword by Evil Sect, has claimed countless lives. Now, it has claimed yet another.

"Urgh…"

The body of the one whose neck had been twisted but not killed convulsed violently. It was a horrifying sight, one that was unbearable to witness, but Cheong Myeong's eyes remained chillingly indifferent.

"One."

Swoosh!

As the sword was pulled from the neck, blood spurted through the air like an arrow.

As if that was a signal, the blood cultists began to flee in unison. No commands were needed. Anyone with a modicum of thought knew what they had to do now.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

Slash!

The spine of one blood cultist who had turned to flee was severed. The Dark Fragrant Plum Blossom Sword had struck again.

"Ugh!"

A choking groan escaped, as if the throat was being squeezed shut.

Another chilling sound followed, and there were no more groans.

Those who were running ahead could guess what had happened. The neck must have been severed after the spine. There was no need to look back to confirm.

'Why!'

The only question that filled the mind of the leading fleeing cultist was this.

'Why is the Plum Blossom Sword Demon here!'

This was the lower part of Mount Wudang. It was a considerable distance from the top where the Wudang Sect resided. It made no sense for a figure as prominent as Mount Hua Chivalrous Sword to appear here. Why was this monster here?

Slash!

"Ahhhhhh!"

"Two."

The chaos in his mind was wiped blank.

He could faintly hear the sound of a sword slicing through another's body. Twice, not just once. This meant that the sword had swung and severed both legs in one go.

But the chilling sounds didn't stop there. A sharp blade must have pierced through someone's neck from behind, a sound that pierced his ears.

'Please, save...'

There was no more confusion. The only thought that filled his mind was the instinct to survive.

His entire body was soaked in sweat.

Whether it was from fear or from running with a strength he had never exerted in his life, he didn't know.

But even as he ran with all his might, his body grew colder.

Slash!

"Three."

Stab!

"Four."

The emotionless voice was getting closer, not farther.

The sound of the sword slicing through bodies, the desperate groans, and the calm counting of the dead—all of it was terrifying. Even those who prided themselves on their fearlessness could only shiver.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

"Seven."

The moment he heard 'seven', the hair on the blood cultist's head stood on end.

'How many were there?'

How many had come here...

Stab!

He didn't need to search for the answer.

"…...Ugh."

A blood-stained white blade protruded from his lower abdomen.

"…...Gulgh."

Blood welled up from deep in his throat as his insides were torn to shreds.

"Ugh…"

Instinctively, he fumbled around the area where the sword had pierced.

This kind of wound, this kind of pain...

"Aaaaaaah!"

At that moment, a horrifying scream burst from the blood cultist's mouth. The sword that had pierced his back twisted at a bizarre angle, stirring his insides violently.

He might have been able to endure the pain from exhaustion, but the dreadful energy emanating from the sword that shredded his internal organs was unbearable.

"Aargh... argh..."

Collapsed as if he had crumbled, he kept groaning. Yet, Cheong Myeong's eyes looking down at him remained endlessly cold.

"Shut your mouth."

"Ugh…"

Crunch!

Cheong Myeong's foot stomped down hard on the blood cultist's gaping mouth. His teeth shattered, and his jaw was crushed.

Dark red blood oozed out from the gap between his foot and the mouth. The blood cultist, gripped by pain, rolled his eyes back until only the bloodshot whites remained.

"Even this death is a luxury for you."

"…Ugh, guh…"

"Fall into hell."

Slash!

The Dark Fragrant Plum Blossom Sword pierced the blood cultist's throat. His body convulsed violently as if struck by lightning, then quickly went limp as life drained away.

Swoosh.

Cheong Myeong retrieved his sword, shook off the blood with a swift flick, and sheathed it.

"…..."

Watching the entire scene, Zhuge Guanwei seemed to be in a trance.

'That's…'

Mount Hua Chivalrous Sword, Cheong Myeong.

Who could now doubt his incredible skill? Yet, seeing it in person, his prowess far exceeded Zhuge Guanwei's expectations.

'In the time it takes to flick his wrist a few times, he took down those blood cultists…'

Of course, those cultists didn't actively fight Cheong Myeong. To be fair, they were struck with terror and fled the moment they saw his face, only to be killed one by one as they ran.

But… isn't that more impressive?

Blood Palace is one of the Five Outer Palaces. Zhuge Guanwei had already experienced the skills of those cultists firsthand. He had found it difficult to handle even a single one of them properly, as his sword seemed ineffective against them, no matter what trick they used.

Yet, he made them flee in terror. How strong must one be to make such a thing possible?

Their strange weapons, their resilient bodies, inexplicably tough—none of it mattered. The oddities that had pushed Zhuge Guanwei to the brink were ultimately nothing but trivial tricks before overwhelming skill.

"Injuries?"

"…Ah."

Zhuge Guanwei snapped his head up. Cheong Myeong had approached unnoticed and was looking down at him with indifferent eyes.

"In… injuries…"

Zhuge Guanwei, staggering to his feet, lost the strength in his voice.

He once again saw the mangled bodies of his comrades, ravaged by the Blood Palace cultists' weapons. Hoping they were still breathing was a mere wish.

"It… seems there are none."

Even as his injured side throbbed painfully, Zhuge Guanwei did not mention his own wounds. It was his last remaining pride.

"Clean up quickly and provide support."

"What?"

"This isn't all of them. Help others."

"But… support will come from above…"

"They aren't easy foes. If we hesitate, there will be more casualties."

Though not fully convinced, Zhuge Guanwei nodded. As if he had said all he needed, Cheong Myeong turned to leave but then stopped and spoke again.

"And just in case… don't go near their corpses."

"What?"

"I warned you. I'm going ahead."

With that, Cheong Myeong's figure vanished as if it had been sucked away.

Only then did Zhuge Guanwei let out the long-held breath. Simultaneously, his side began to hurt terribly, and he slumped to the ground.

"Hyung-nim! Are you okay?"

"...I'm fine."

Those who had belatedly noticed his condition rushed over in shock.

"But hyung-nim! Your side...!"

Seeing the wound gaping as if his entrails would spill out, everyone turned pale.

"We'll take you to Wudang right away."

"Just stitch it up and bandage it."

"But hyung-nim! The wound is so severe..."

"I said just bandage it!"

Zhuge Guanwei bared his teeth and shouted, startling the fussing person into silence.

'Damn it.'

Zhuge Guanwei gritted his teeth. Someone still in disbelief muttered helplessly.

"They definitely... couldn't be taken down."

"It's a difference in skill."

"No, I mean... even when I stabbed them with my sword, they were fine."

Zhuge Guanwei sighed without realizing it. When the gap is too large, it's hard to properly understand what's happening right in front of you. It's a natural thing.

"How many died?"

"...Five."

Unbearable groans came from here and there. Five in such a short moment.

"Suddenly, Evil Tyrant Alliance... Damn it, if it weren't for this pointless search!"

A blue light flashed in Zhuge Guanwei's eyes.

"Is this the time to be talking about that?"

"..."

"Spread out and check where support is needed! Blow the whistle immediately upon discovery."

"Yes!"

The uninjured warriors of the Jegal family dispersed in all directions. Zhuge Guanwei bit his lip slightly.

"But he said not to approach the corpses... what did he mean by that..."

"Hyung-nim! Over there!"

Zhuge Guanwei flinched and snapped his head up.

".....What?"

"No, I definitely saw something move..."

Zhuge Guanwei frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"Did I see it wrong...?"

The family member who had shouted awkwardly shook his head. Zhuge Guanwei spoke irritably without realizing it.

"If you have time to spout nonsense, hurry up and bandage me."

***

"Damn it...!"

Bang!

The hilt of the sword, swung straight and fast, smashed into the face of the charging blood cultist. The impact was strong enough to shatter all the facial bones of an ordinary person.

But the blood cultist only stumbled momentarily before reaching out again.

Slash!

Before his arm could fully extend, the sword once again swung ferociously and embedded itself in the blood cultist's neck. His tough, rubbery neck was half severed, and sticky blood slowly oozed out.

Thud.

Even though his neck was half off, his body took a few steps forward as if unaware, then fell forward with a plop.

Yoon Jong's eyes darkened.

His swordsmanship was excessive and brutal for someone of the taoist path. Even he thought so, but their bodies were difficult to deal with in any other way.

'Means are just means.'

Whether it's cruel or merciful, taking a life is the same in essence. Having already stained his hands with blood, discussing the means is nothing but a cowardly excuse.

"Yoon, Yoon Jong dojang! Are you alright?"

Even though he was from another sect, it seemed he knew Yoon Jong's name. As Yoon Jong turned his gaze, the man who approached spoke.

"Be careful... those bastards use some strange tricks."

Yoon Jong had already felt it himself. He merely nodded slightly.

Though they had run until their feet were about to break, the damage was already significant. Seeing the corpses below darkened a corner of his heart even more.

"Well..."

Yoon Jong's sleeve slowly swelled.

The enemies weren't many. This meant that they were scattered and attacking.

'Though Geol-ah and Sago went to different places... even so, we can't defend everywhere.'

If they couldn't clear this place quickly and support other areas, it was hard to gauge how much the casualties would increase.

Yoon Jong knew well.

If the damage from this attack grew, he knew where the blame would fall. He wanted to prevent that situation at all costs.

Yoon Jong's sword emitted a fierce aura.

He closed the distance with the enemy in an instant.

With swift and graceful movement, Yoon Jong moved like flowing water and unleashed dozens of plum blossoms toward the chest of the leading blood cultist.

Slash! Slash! Slash!

In an instant, dozens of lines of blood appeared on the blood cultist's chest.

Shiver.

At that moment, feeling a sudden foreboding, Yoon Jong quickly ducked. The blood cultist's hand passed just above his head. The force was so strong it felt like his scalp would tear.

'.....Even with such wounds?'

He had clearly felt one of his sword strikes hit the cultist's heart. Even if it was shallow, the heart is still the heart.

But to retaliate after such a wound? And with such strength?

"Ugh!"

Yoon Jong mustered all his strength and swung his sword upwards.

Swish!

The sword, imbued with aura, once again cut a long gash through the blood cultist's body, from the left thigh to the right shoulder.

And at that moment, the blood cultist's twisted left hand struck towards Yoon Jong.

Scratch!

The deformed hand scratched the ground where Yoon Jong had just been standing, leaving long marks as if a giant beast had clawed at it.

"....."

Sweat dripped down Yoon Jong's forehead as he retreated.

'What is this?'

He had definitely cut them. But how?

'Illusions? Or...'

Then, an even more unbelievable sight entered Yoon Jong's eyes.

"What?"

The long gash on the blood cultist had healed. A moment ago, it had been split open, looking like the entrails would spill out, but now there was no trace of the wound.

'Healed in such a short time?'

It couldn't be. It made no sense.

Wriggle.

In his confusion, Yoon Jong unconsciously took a step back.

From the closed wound of the blood cultist, dozens of long, wriggling tendrils were protruding.

'Worms?'

No, that's not it. Those...

"Yoon Jong dojang! Behind you!"

"What?"

Yoon Jong reflexively turned his head. His face immediately went pale.

The one whose neck he had cut earlier was rising, his body grotesquely twisted.

"What... is happening..."

From the neck of the rising cultist, the same wriggling things were protruding. With half-glazed eyes, the cultist swayed like a wooden doll and flashed a grotesque smile.

Yoon Jong's face was pale with terror.