Fist Demon of Mount Hua - Chapter 178

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

Chapter 177. Time Brings New Encounters—Part 2
Jong Ri Yeon came down into the dining room. Her hair, still damp and not yet fully dry, caught the light in an ethereal shimmer.
Because of this, many of those gathered in the room could not tear their eyes from her face. Jong Ri Yeon, accustomed to such gazes, sat across from Dam Ho with an expression of complete indifference.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“No!”
Dam Ho shook his head.
On the table sat a wine bottle half-emptied and a few simple dishes.
“Would you pour me a cup as well?”
“Of course.”
Dam Ho nodded and filled her cup. Jong Ri Yeon drained it in one long drink.
Despite having consumed only a single cup, her face flushed crimson almost instantly.
Jong Ri Yeon laughed.
“Bitter, but good.”
Dam Ho nodded and raised his own cup to his lips.
A pleasant warmth burned down his throat. The innkeeper had brewed this himself, and it was potent indeed. Soon a gentle intoxication began to rise within him.
Jong Ri Yeon sipped slowly. Her eyes had already grown hazy with drink.
She gazed at Dam Ho, her chin resting on one hand.
“Do you know something?”
…
“You’re a cursed man, truly. Your temperament is willful, you know nothing of compromise. Wherever you go, trouble follows—you’ve made countless enemies—”
The alcohol had loosened her tongue, her voice soft and trembling. Dam Ho listened to her words in silence.
“Doesn’t it trouble you? Making so many enemies?”
“And you turned the Namgoong Clan into your enemy. Does that not trouble you?”
“Of course it troubles me. I’m terrified even now. Yet I don’t regret it. Because of that, I saved Yeon’s life. If I hadn’t saved her, I would carry a far greater regret.”
Jong Ri Yeon’s throat was parched. She reached for another cup and drank it down.
“Master always taught me to value those at the bottom of society, and she lived by that principle herself. But for me, it feels overwhelming. How did Master live that way? Was she not afraid?”
What had begun as a question directed at Dam Ho had become Jong Ri Yeon’s own murmuring.
Beneath her composed exterior lay a tender heart. She merely forced herself to be confident because of her profession as a physician—a calling that dealt with life itself.
Jong Ri Yeon carried her fears, yet she was fully aware of her duty as a physician and of what she must do.
“Now you tell me. Does it not trouble you?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Truly?”
“What’s done is done. There’s no turning back. So I move forward. Whatever fate awaits.”
“You’re truly strong. I envy you. If only I possessed such an unshakable spirit… Why did Master choose me as a disciple—”
Jong Ri Yeon’s muttering trailed off as her head fell forward onto the table. The alcohol had claimed her consciousness.
Dam Ho watched her in silence.
She showed no sign of waking. Dam Ho finished the remaining wine without disturbing her.
Once the bottle was emptied, Dam Ho lifted her onto his back and carried her up to her room.
Her clothing, loosened by deep intoxication, had slipped aside, revealing pale skin beneath.
Her face, flushed with drink, possessed a beauty that would move anyone’s heart. Yet Dam Ho’s expression remained unmoved as he gazed upon her loveliness.
After a moment of looking down at her, Dam Ho turned and left the room. As the door closed behind him, Jong Ri Yeon lay alone.
“Sigh…”
A wordless breath echoed through the empty chamber.
***
Goxian was a city in the southern reaches of Shanxi Province. Major roads intersected from all four directions, naturally drawing crowds of travelers and merchants.
Where people gathered, wealth followed. Wealth in turn drew more people, and so Goxian had grown into a considerable city.
Moreover, because Goxian lay in the south of Shanxi Province, there was a widespread perception of relative safety from the Demonic Cult. That was why the Murim Alliance established a branch in Sak Ju to the north, while Goxian had no such need.
Barren Shanxi Province harbored no great sects like the Nine Great Sects or the Five Great Clans. Instead, it was home to numerous small and medium-sized martial sects and lesser martial masters.
Goxian was no exception. The city held five small martial houses and a faction called the Cheong Un Bang. Cheong Un Bang, being the largest among them, had assumed the role of guardian of Goxian and claimed the lion’s share of the city’s interests.
Even as the Demonic Cult’s emergence had brought bloodshed across the realm, Goxian—perceived as relatively safe—had actually flourished, drawing merchants and wealth from all directions.
Cheong Un Bang prospered accordingly.
“This month’s profits are three times greater than last month’s. Ha ha!”
“Faction Leader, I humbly offer my congratulations. If matters continue at this pace, our Cheong Un Bang may well rival even the Nine Great Sects.”
“Ha ha! Is that so?”
Hearty laughter burst forth from the faction leader’s quarters.
So Do Cheol, the leader of Cheong Un Bang, and Jang Myeong, his deputy, sat facing each other in amusement.
“By the way, didn’t a dispatch arrive from the Murim Alliance?”
“Yes, it did. I brought it along precisely to present it to you.”
Jang Myeong drew a letter from his robes and handed it to So Do Cheol. As So Do Cheol read through it, his expression darkened slightly.
Jang Myeong’s curiosity was piqued.
“What is the content of their request?”
“The usual nonsense. They want money sent to the Murim Alliance. And they’ll assign their own personnel, naturally.”
“Brigands, the lot of them.”
“Who would argue? As everyone knows, Shanxi Province has nothing whatsoever to do with the Demonic Cult. So why should we be pouring money and manpower into the Murim Alliance?”
“But we can hardly ignore them entirely, can we?”
“Exactly! And they hold such grudges.”
So Do Cheol scratched his chin.
The irritation was plain on his face.
He thought the Murim Alliance’s demands excessive, yet ignoring them was impossible. Not only the Five Great Clans and Nine Great Sects, but most of the powerful martial sects across the land belonged to the Murim Alliance.
Refusing their request would bring endless complications.
“Confound it all! There’s no help for it. We’ll just have to make a show of goodwill. Sub-leader, calculate an appropriate sum and send it to them. Pick out some disciples to dispatch as well.”
“How many disciples should we send?”
“Around fifty should suffice, wouldn’t you say? Prioritize the newly recruited disciples.”
“Understood.”
Jang Myeong smiled.
The newly recruited disciples still had much to learn. As genuine martial artists, they were decidedly lacking.
Sending such disciples to the Murim Alliance posed no real loss to Cheong Un Bang.
“We can simply allocate more funds to compensate.”
“Exactly! Money can always be earned again. Heh heh!”
“Very good. I shall see to it.”
“The sub-leader and I understand each other so well. It’s most satisfying.”
“I have always held you in the highest regard. In this life and the next, I shall follow only you, honor only you.”
“Ha ha ha!”
So Do Cheol burst into hearty laughter at Jang Myeong’s flattery.
The thought that Cheong Un Bang would flourish greatly under his leadership filled him with joy. What greater honor could a sect leader desire?
“Your place at my side is forever yours. You understand? We walk this path together until the very end.”
“Of course. Who else would stand at your side? I shall follow you even to the gates of hell itself.”
“Excellent! I’m in high spirits now—let us share a drink.”
“I shall have the attendants prepare a table of delicacies at once.”
“Mmm!”
So Do Cheol was nodding contentedly when it happened.
“Ahhhhh!”
“Argh!”
Suddenly, screams and chaos erupted outside.
“What is this?”
So Do Cheol’s expression drained of color.
Jang Myeong rose hastily and spoke.
“I shall investigate at once.”
“No—come with me.”
The two men rushed out together.
“This cannot be!”
The moment they stepped outside, both their faces twisted in horror.
Cheong Un Bang was under assault by unknown enemies. Hundreds of martial artists dressed in crimson robes had poured into the compound, and they were slaughtering Cheong Un Bang’s fighters.
Blood sprayed; screams pierced the air.
Those falling were mostly Cheong Un Bang’s disciples; the martial artists in red robes suffered almost no losses. It was overwhelming dominance.
“Who… who are these people?”
So Do Cheol’s shoulders trembled.
Then Jang Myeong’s voice rang out like a cry of anguish.
“The Demonic Cult! They are surely Demonic Cult disciples!”
“The Demonic Cult?”
Only then could So Do Cheol observe the battlefield with clear eyes.
Formidable martial prowess, merciless technique, and the vacant, emotionless gaze of the slaughterer—all possessed by hundreds of warriors.
Though many martial sects existed throughout the land, only one commanded such a force with such unmistakable character: the Demonic Cult alone.
“But why would the Demonic Cult…?”
So Do Cheol murmured in bewilderment, forgetting even that he should feel rage.
“Are you So Do Cheol, leader of Cheong Un Bang?”
A voice, chillingly cold, echoed in their ears.
“Wha—? When did—?”
“Hm!”
At the sound coming from directly behind them, So Do Cheol and Jang Myeong spun around in shock. Before them stood a martial artist clad in a crimson robe and headwear so steeped in blood they gleamed scarlet.
Beneath the headwear, the martial artist’s face shimmered with a blood-red haze so thick that his features were utterly indecipherable. Slung across his back was a long object wrapped tightly in heavy cloth.
The moment So Do Cheol and Jang Myeong laid eyes on him, they froze like frogs before a cobra, unable to move.
By instinct alone, they recognized that this blood-red figure belonged to an entirely different class of being. Neither dared harbor even a thought of resistance.
“Ahhhhh!”
“Please—spare me!”
Even as they spoke, the martial artists of Cheong Un Bang were falling helplessly to their deaths. The sect’s annihilation was inevitable.
The blood-red figure spoke.
“Do you wish to save your disciples?”
“Y-yes, I do.”
So Do Cheol gritted his teeth as he answered.
He could not allow Cheong Un Bang to fall into complete destruction. By whatever means necessary, he had to preserve the sect’s bloodline.
In an instant, the blood-red figure unwrapped the cloth bundle from his back. As he unrolled it, three swords came into view.
He drew two of them and cast them at the feet of So Do Cheol and Jang Myeong.
“Fight.”
“What?”
“Sect Leader So Do Cheol—if you win, I will spare the rest of your disciples. Vice Leader Jang Myeong—if you win, I will spare your family.”
“Ugh!”
“Fight.”
The battle in the hall was already over. Every surviving martial artist of Cheong Un Bang knelt motionless, awaiting the Demonic Cult’s judgment. On one side, blades pressed against the throats of Jang Myeong’s family.
“Sect Leader.”
“H-husband!”
The disciples of Cheong Un Bang and Jang Myeong’s kin wept openly.
“A devil! You monster——”
So Do Cheol’s gaze burned with fury toward the blood-red figures. Yet he had no choice. Neither did Jang Myeong.
Both men seized the swords cast before them.
“Forgive me.”
“I beg your pardon.”
To save those they held most dear, they had no choice but to fight.
Clang!
Their blades collided.
Sparks erupted; blood sprayed.
Two men who had lived as brothers for two decades now wielded the Killing Strike against each other as though sworn enemies.
The blood-red figure watched with folded arms. The crimson haze that had shrouded his face gradually faded, revealing his true visage.
His cheekbones jutted sharply; his eyes lay sunken in their sockets. Above his hooked nose burned eyes of an uncanny red, alight with fever and madness.
A cold smile played at the corners of his mouth.
He carried three swords in total.
Two he used to force those with something to protect into combat.
Like So Do Cheol and Jang Myeong, locked in fierce battle before him.
The blood-red figure’s name was Deng Tianxiao.
In Deng Tianxiao’s eyes gleamed the sight of So Do Cheol and Jang Myeong, bleeding as they fought. The desperation of those with something to protect was more than mere amusement—it was rapture.
Deng Tianxiao opened his mouth.
“What is our next target?”
“Sak Ju, sir.”
“And what did the Cult Master say?”
“No survivors are needed, he said.”
At his subordinate’s words, the corners of Deng Tianxiao’s mouth curved upward.
“That is precisely what I do best.”
Then it happened.
Thunk!
“Gack!”
Jang Myeong’s cry pierced the battlefield. So Do Cheol’s blade had driven through his heart.
“S-Sect Leader.”
“Forgive me.”
So Do Cheol turned away, unable to meet Jang Myeong’s gaze.
Jang Myeong’s body crumpled to the ground. His wide, unblinking eyes burned with resentment toward So Do Cheol.
“No! Husband!”
“Father!”
Jang Myeong’s family shrieked.
So Do Cheol deliberately ignored their cries and looked toward Deng Tianxiao.
“Hgh! I have won—now spare my disciples as you promised.”
Tears streamed down his face.
Deng Tianxiao grasped a third sword.
The smooth grip settled into his palm with perfect fit.
“I owe you an apology.”
“What?”
“That promise I made—if you won, I’d spare the disciples. It was a lie.”
“No… surely not?”
“I’m a follower of the Demonic Cult, after all. Lies come to me as naturally as breathing.”
Deng Tianxiao laughed.
Thud!
The blade drove through So Do Cheol’s chest like a knife through tofu.
Fire exploded through his body, and So Do Cheol’s eyes snapped wide. Deng Tianxiao reached over and patted his back gently.
“Don’t be too bitter about it. Others will follow soon enough to keep you company.”
The light faded from So Do Cheol’s eyes.
Thus ended So Do Cheol.
The purpose of the third sword. It existed for one reason alone: to claim the life of whoever had defeated two opponents and emerged victorious.
Deng Tianxiao collected all three blades and issued his command.
“Leave not a single one alive. Kill them all. Let the entire world know the terror of our Sect.”
“As you command!”
Death fell upon the surviving disciples of Cheong Un Bang.
As blood and death painted the air, Deng Tianxiao laughed. His laughter chilled not only the disciples of Cheong Un Bang but even his own fellow Demonic Cult warriors.
Deng Tianxiao’s epithet was the Blood Sea Judge.
A man who rendered death’s verdict through madness. He was one of the Seven Demon Immortals, the pride of the Demonic Cult.
In the wake of his passage, only seas of blood remained.

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