The Heavenly demon

[Empire Calendar 421,4 month,30]

I looked around, the surrounding were same as where Chung yung and chun ma (Heavenly demon) fought.

And I… I was standing atop a mountain of corpses, bathed in blood.

A realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. This body… it was not mine. No, I was inside the body of Chun Ma—the Heavenly Demon.

Yet, the Sword God had not arrived. Not yet.

A deep sigh escaped from heavenly demon lips as he turned his gaze toward the blood-red moon. It loomed overhead, a silent witness to the carnage.

"Haa… This world is so meaningless."

Even though I was the Heavenly Demon, the strongest martial artist in the history of Murim, none of it mattered. Strength, power, titles—they were all hollow.

I was nothing compared to the man I once was, the man who had known happiness. Now, I was merely an empty shell, devoid of purpose, of emotion.

This war… I never wanted it. But the people of my cult forced it upon me. They dragged me into this endless cycle of bloodshed, all in the name of power and conquest.

And the one I loved—the only person who had ever mattered—was taken from me.

Murdered.

Slain at the hands of the so-called righteous orthodox faction. Not because she was a warrior, not because she was an enemy, but simply because she loved me. She had no ties to the Demonic Cult—her only crime was being with me.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

"I will die in a few hours," I murmured. "Wait for me, my love. I will join you soon."

Then, a figure in blue appeared, rushing toward me. His garments bore the insignia of the orthodox faction, yet his body was unscathed—untouched by battle.

He brandished his sword.

"Today is the day you die, Heavenly Demon!"

I scoffed. My body was covered in wounds, my strength nearly spent, yet I stood tall.

"Try your very best," the heavenly demon said, voice steady. "If you can, Sword Saint."

With a single stroke, he ended him. Sword saint blade fell from his grip, and his body collapsed like a broken doll.

Weak. Pathetic.

I turned back to the battlefield. The stench of death was overwhelming, corpses piled high as far as the eye could see. And then—

A lone figure approached.

The Sword God.

His presence was undeniable. Even in his battered state, he radiated power, his sword pointed directly at me as he stepped over the dead.

The heavenly demon tilted his head. "Foolish. Even if you are the Sword God, you should see it—your left arm is completely destroyed for martial arts."

He did not flinch.

"Heavenly Demon…" he spoke, voice rough with exhaustion. "Or should I call you Demon Moon? Heavenly Destroyer? If you think I will surrender because my arm is broken, you are mistaken."

He coughed, blood staining his lips, yet his eyes burned with fury.

"My entire family… my sect… my friends… the neighboring sects… all dead." His voice trembled—not with fear, but with rage. "Because of your cult."

A deep sigh left my throat. "Now, only we remain."

He screamed. "I SHALL KILL YOU! I SHALL AVENGE MY FALLEN COMRADES, MY SENIORS, MY JUNIORS… AND THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!"

He staggered, gripping his sword with his one remaining hand.

I smirked. "Either way, we are both dead men walking. I might as well have some fun before I die."

We moved.

Our swords clashed, the force sending tremors through the battlefield. The corpses beneath us shifted under our feet. The clang of steel against steel rang out like a funeral bell.

Slash. Parry. Dodge. Strike.

Our movements were precise, honed to perfection. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion.

His sword carved through the air, aiming for my throat. I deflected it by a hair's breadth, countering with a downward strike that forced him to retreat.

We clashed again. And again.

The crimson moon cast its eerie glow upon us, illuminating the battlefield soaked in blood. Rain poured relentlessly, washing away the fresh gore, yet the stench of death lingered.

The Sword God tightened his grip. His body was failing, but his spirit burned ever brighter.

A deep chuckle rumbled from my throat. "Look at yourself, Sword God. One arm barely functional, body held together by sheer will. And yet, you still stand?"

He spat blood. "I will stand… until you fall."

I smirked. "Then let's finish this."

We lunged.

A deafening clash.

The battlefield trembled beneath us. Corpses flew from the force of our strikes.

He slashed—I evaded by a fraction. My counter was immediate, a dozen cuts in an instant. His defense faltered. Blood sprayed into the air.

Then—

CRACK.

His bones gave way. His left arm shattered completely. His knees buckled, body failing him.

Yet he did not fall.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. His sword did not waver.

I sighed. "You may not be the strongest opponent I've ever faced," I admitted. "But you are the hardest to kill."

I pointed my sword at his throat. "This is the end."

I lunged.

He moved.

With the last remnants of his strength, he poured everything into one final strike.

Our swords met.

A blinding flash.

The heavens roared.

The earth trembled.

Then—

Silence.

Two figures stood frozen in place.

Blood dripped, soaking the battlefield.

I looked down. A deep wound stretched across my torso. My body—this body—was failing.

I blinked. Then… I laughed.

"Heh… You actually did it."

I exhaled, my vision darkening. "It's a shame… you will die as well… without reward."

Then, softly, a whisper escaped my lips. "Ha… I can finally be reunited with you, my love."

A flood of memories rushed through me—his memories. This body's past, his pain, his loss.

Then—

Darkness.

I gasped, my body flying awake.

I was in my room.

The wooden ceiling of the inn greeted me, the scent of damp wood replacing the stench of blood.

I was alive.

I was back.

But the feeling of the battle still lingered, the echoes of another life refusing to fade.