Fist Demon of Mount Hua - Chapter 120

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 119. The Threads of Fate Tangle in Ways No One Can Predict—1
“Cough!”
Myeong Gyeong spat blood.
Crimson streaks stained his chest.
Myeong Gyeong tried to laugh. But he couldn’t. Like a crumpled doll, he lay crumpled among the shattered rocks.
His limbs were twisted at sickening angles, and the black blade that had shone with cold light lay in fragments—only the hilt remained intact.
He owed his life to Dam Ho’s restraint. Without it, he would already be dead.
Dam Ho terrified him.
Those who merely watched from the sidelines could never know the true depths of that terror. Only those who had faced him in combat could feel it.
It was like a naked child standing before a tiger.
Myeong Gyeong was the child. Dam Ho was the tiger—a great tiger with enormous fangs.
On Dam Ho’s fifth punch, the beloved sword his master had given him shattered. The sixth blow crushed his left shoulder. At the tenth strike, Dam Ho seized him by the collar and hurled him headfirst into the stone. Then everything went black.
When he came to, Dam Ho was nowhere to be seen.
Only then did he understand: Dam Ho had shown mercy.
“Hehehehe! What a pitiful sight. Myeong Gyeong. So arrogant before, and now look at you.”
He had unleashed the Blood Plum Blossom Sword in its fullest fury—the technique his master had transmitted to him—yet failed to even graze Dam Ho’s sleeve. The thought of his own boastfulness, claiming he would subdue Gu Mu-yong and proclaim his master’s prowess to all the realm, now struck him as absurd.
“Truly formidable. Terrifyingly strong.”
Myeong Gyeong bit his lip hard.
Total defeat.
There was no room for excuse.
Even deploying the Blood Plum Blossom Sword in full, he had failed to gauge the true measure of Dam Ho’s real strength.
Dam Ho was not someone he could contend with.
He was at least the equal of his own master—
The master he revered most.
How Dam Ho had acquired such strength, he could not fathom.
Myeong Gyeong struggled to his feet.
“Ugh!”
Wave upon wave of pain washed over him, as if his body were coming apart. At least his left shoulder was his only broken bone.
“So there still lies some affection between martial siblings? He didn’t kill me, after all.”
Myeong Gyeong limped forward.
“I must begin anew from the start. Let’s return to Hua Shan.”
Bang Jin Bo regarded Dam Ho with a puzzled look.
“Where did you go last night?”
“What?”
“I woke up thirsty for a moment and didn’t see you anywhere.”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk.”
“At such a late hour?”
“That’s right.”
At Dam Ho’s reply, Bang Jin Bo’s expression grew suspicious, but he pressed no further.
Dam Ho gazed out the window.
In the distance, he could see the low hills they had crossed. By now, Myeong Gyeong was surely making his way over them.
Myeong Gyeong was undeniably strong. But he was still unrefined.
His strength was not something he had seized for himself—it was forged for him by Hyun Gyeom the Zhenren. Dam Ho, by contrast, had grown strong through his own power.
He had clawed his way up from the depths of hell, earning his current strength through sheer tenacity. The density of his power and the magnitude of his resolve were incomparable.
‘He’ll return to Hua Shan, won’t he?’
Hyun Gyeom the Zhenren waited there—the one called the First Sword of Hua Shan.
How Hyun Gyeom would react, no one could say. But he would understand Dam Ho’s intention through Myeong Gyeong.
Myeong Gyeong was, in essence, Dam Ho’s messenger.
Dam Ho rose to his feet.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes!”
Bang Jin Bo nodded and stood.
They took their leave of the farmer and his wife and departed the farmhouse.
Even after riding hard for half a day, no settlement appeared. Yet neither man grew anxious.
They were seasoned travelers, accustomed to sleeping under the stars. If no village appeared, they would simply camp where they were.
There was no need to hurry, no reason to grow impatient.
“Ah, this is fine.”
Bang Jin Bo smiled as he surveyed the landscape around them. But the smile vanished in an instant.
The wind carried the thick scent of blood.
From following Dam Ho for so long, Bang Jin Bo had learned to distinguish the smell of blood on the wind.
“What?”
Bang Jin Bo stared at Dam Ho in surprise, but Dam Ho’s gaze remained fixed ahead, not on him.
“There!”
Bang Jin Bo followed his look and spotted crows circling in the distance, wheeling through the air in a dark mass.
Dam Ho and Bang Jin Bo drove Black Ghost toward that point.
“Oh!”
When they reached the scene, Bang Jin Bo’s eyes went wide.
Beneath the circling crows lay dozens of corpses scattered across the ground. Wolves drawn by the reek of blood were tearing strips of flesh from the bodies.
“What—”
Growl!
The wolves snarled at Bang Jin Bo, but the moment they glimpsed Dam Ho, they tucked their tails and bolted. Their instincts recognized the danger before them.
Dam Ho dismounted from Black Ghost and walked toward the bodies.
The state of the wolf-ravaged corpses was gruesome beyond measure. Flesh had been torn away in patches, bone gleamed white beneath, and some bodies lay with their entrails spilled across the ground like discarded offal.
A Triangular Flag lay crumpled on the earth, soaked in blood and scattered tissue. Yet despite the filth coating it, Bang Jin Bo could still make out the characters written upon it.
“Da Yun Escort Agency? These were escort guards, then?”
Dam Ho nodded.
He had never heard of this particular escort house. But there was nothing strange in that—the Central Plains were vast, and escort agencies numbered beyond counting.
“Were they killed by the wolves?”
“No. By human hands.”
The wounds the wolves had inflicted were merely surface lacerations on skin and cloth. The true wounds—the ones that had killed them—lay hidden beneath.
‘Sharp Sword Qi severed all their vital meridians cleanly.’
No blade alone could cut through the vital meridians with such precision.
A master, then. One who commanded their own Sword Qi with absolute freedom.
A martial artist of this caliber was anything but common.
Dam Ho rose and surveyed the surroundings.
Nearly twenty escort guards lay dead. He examined their positions, the way they lay, and the wounds upon them, one by one.
And he reached a conclusion.
‘All killed with a single stroke?’
The thought defied belief, yet no other explanation fit.
Killing twenty men was not difficult. Dam Ho himself could accomplish it in moments if he chose.
But to do it with one stroke—and to sever only the vital meridians—that was another matter entirely.
The Internal Energy control of whoever had done this surpassed imagination in its refinement. Dam Ho had never encountered a martial artist capable of wielding Sword Qi and Internal Energy with such exquisite precision.
“What on earth happened here?”
Bang Jin Bo shook his head slowly.
Dam Ho mounted Black Ghost once more.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Whatever had transpired here was no concern of theirs. There was no reason to dwell on it.
The two set off on horseback, leaving the field of corpses behind. After riding for some time, Gugung Mountain appeared in the distance.
Gugung Mountain stood within the borders of Tongshan County, rising over five hundred feet high, its scenery so magnificent that visitors came year-round.
Legend held that a famous Daoist of the Southern Song, Zhang Daoqing, had built nine palaces upon this mountain, which is how it came to be called Gugung Mountain. Because of this, it was revered as a sacred site of Daoism.
On Gugung Mountain existed a sect called the Gugung Sect.
The Gugung Sect was of the Daoist tradition. Though not as widely known as the Hua Shan Sect or the Wudang Sect, their influence in the region was nonetheless formidable and could not be disregarded.
Under the influence of the Gugung Sect, the atmosphere of Tongshan was remarkably serene—a stark contrast to the uproar sweeping the realm over the emergence of the Demon Cult and the founding of the Murim Alliance.
Upon entering Tongshan County, the two men sought out an inn first.
They asked a passerby and were directed to the Fengchuan Inn on the main road. It was small and unassuming, yet its cooking was said to be extraordinary.
True to the stranger’s word, the Fengchuan Inn’s exterior was unremarkable. But the moment they stepped inside, a savory aroma wafted through the air, captivating the senses.
“Wow!”
Bang Jin Bo’s mouth fell open.
From the aroma alone, he could tell the inn’s cook was a true master of their craft.
“Welcome.”
A woman in her early forties greeted them as they entered. She had a warm, approachable face, a somewhat plump figure, and a smile that put all who saw it in a good mood.
Bang Jin Bo spoke up.
“Do you have rooms available?”
“Of course. How many nights will you be staying?”
“Just one for now.”
“Take the room at the end of the right corridor on this floor. You’ll want to eat, I suppose?”
“Yes! What does your kitchen specialize in?”
“My husband is from Sichuan, so we make spicy dishes well—things like Crispy Pork Belly.”
“Really? Then I’ll have Crispy Pork Belly and Lotus Root with Red Oil, please.”
“Oh my! You know quite a bit about Sichuan cuisine?”
“Hehe! I’m rather fond of cooking, you see.”
The two of them chattered away like old acquaintances, their conversation showing no signs of ending. Unable to bear it any longer, Dam Ho excused himself and climbed the stairs to a room on the upper floor.
The room was immaculately kept, as if to speak to the innkeeper’s meticulous nature.
The moment he opened the window wide, the main avenue spread before him in full view.
Many people moved along the street—commoners, merchants, and martial artists mixed together in equal measure.
Among the martial artists, Daoists were overwhelmingly dominant. Some belonged to the Gugung Sect, while others had journeyed from across the realm seeking to sense the spiritual essence of Gugung Mountain.
It was a sight that made the truth tangible: Gugung Mountain was indeed the sacred sanctuary of the Daoist path.
Dam Ho stood with his arms folded, watching the people pass below for a long while.
“Brother!”
After some time had passed, Bang Jin Bo entered the room. His face was radiant with a bright smile.
“It turns out the innkeeper here is a truly skilled chef. She said if she has time this evening, she’ll even show me the kitchen.”
“You’re that pleased?”
“Yes!”
Bang Jin Bo beamed continuously.
Anything related to cooking left Bang Jin Bo unable to focus on anything else. He untied the bundle slung across his back, which contained cooking utensils.
“Let’s go back down. The food should be ready by now.”
“All right.”
Dam Ho descended to the dining hall on the first floor with Bang Jin Bo.
Though only a little time had passed, the dining hall had filled with quite a number of people. Most striking among them was a group of Daoists.
Centered around an elderly Daoist in his early fifties, seven younger Daoists occupied a single table.
The old Daoist’s eyes were exceptionally sharp, and the occasional gleam of divine light suggested his Daoist power was far from ordinary.
Yet Dam Ho soon turned his attention away.
He had met enough Daoists from the Hua Shan Sect to last a lifetime. If anyone knew what sort of people they were, it was him.
Dam Ho and Bang Jin Bo took their seats at an empty table.
Presently, the innkeeper returned carrying a tray laden with dishes.
“Here’s the pork with pine nuts and shrimp with red peppers. I’ve also brought a bottle of homemade red wine to wet your whistle.”
“Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it. Please, enjoy your meal.”
The innkeeper set down the plates of food and the Alcohol Bottle on the table.
Dam Ho gazed at the bottle for a moment.
He was not particularly fond of drink, but neither did he wish to refuse such a kindly offered gesture.
‘He would have liked this.’
Thinking of his friend who had such a taste for alcohol, Dam Ho poured himself a cup.
“Ah!”
Bang Jin Bo was the first to respond to the fragrant aroma.
Since he had never tasted alcohol before, even the bouquet struck him as extraordinary.
Dam Ho brought the cup to his lips. The moment the wine touched his tongue, he was taken aback. It was far more exquisite than anything he had drunk before.
The sensation of the wine clinging slightly to his palate was remarkable.
‘Is this why my master drinks?’
As Dam Ho was discovering the pleasure of wine for the first time, the inn door suddenly opened and someone entered with a graceful stride. In that instant, every eye in the dining hall turned toward the newcomer.

“Ah!”
An exclamation burst from someone’s lips.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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