Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 285

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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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Chapter 285
Crack!
Myeoljeoldae stamped the ground in unison.
Pure white figures began moving between the falling snow, splitting in all directions and charging at those frozen in place.
With each step they planted, the accumulated snow around them exploded outward in every direction.
A white blizzard bloomed in an instant.
Within it, Myeoljeoldae members wound their martial power around their bodies and unleashed their momentum.
Swift white figures moving through the snowstorm.
Several of the rogue sect warriors faltered for a moment at that fierce aura, as if they were watching snow demons from legend.
“What… what is this…?!”
The distance of roughly fifty feet closed in an instant as they charged forward with terrifying speed.
And then.
Myeoljeoldae, now forming an encircling net, planted a heavy stance.
Boom!
The ground shook from the release of martial power that erupted at that same moment.
Simultaneously, Myeoljeoldae created waves of power and surged toward those trapped within their formation.
They meant to leave not a single rogue sect warrior unaccounted for.
“…Damn dogs!”
“Cursed bastards!”
The rogue sect warriors, their curses spilling out, suddenly snapped to their senses.
Myeoljeoldae’s intention was all too clear.
Only then did they scramble to seize their Gimun weapons and steel their gazes.
An instinctive act of survival.
They drew up their martial power to prepare for the collision that would come moments hence, and soon clashed with Myeoljeoldae.
Crash! Scrape! Crack!
“Gasp!”
“Ugh!”
All manner of sounds erupted.
The sounds of flesh being cut and bone shattering.
Screams and retching mingled with countless other noises, and the area descended into chaos.
Myeoljeoldae pressed down hard upon the rogue sect warriors.
The enemies before them were neither the elite Ghost Shadow Guard nor the Blood Shadow Guard of Sa Hyuk Ryeon.
They were merely ordinary fighters brought in from minor sects.
In contrast, though they were young, Myeoljeoldae consisted of Later Generation Masters hand-picked from each sect—their very tier was different.
“Damnable wretches!”
“You think I’ll die here?!”
The rogue sect warriors spat curses.
It was a desperate struggle born from frustration.
Faced with the fierce onslaught of forty-two members of Myeoljeoldae spreading out in all directions, the rogue sect warriors had no time to collect themselves—they could only defend.
Yet there were moments when counterattacks came.
Slice!
A warrior who had cut through the sword aura of a careless Myeoljeoldae member with the Yeon Geom smiled grimly and worked his jaw.
“Did you think you’d take me down so easily?”
The instant the warrior raised the Yeon Geom again, as if seizing victory—
Thrust!
A blade emerged from his abdomen.
“Kuh… cough. Behind… behind…”
The warrior’s body fell forward.
Song Dae Geuk, blood trickling down one cheek where his sword aura had been severed, stared in surprise at the figure visible behind the falling body.
“Deputy Commander?”
Dan Li Gwan Cheon, who had driven his blade into the man’s back, turned to Song Dae Geuk and spoke.
“You appear unharmed.”
“Well enough. This barely counts as a wound.”
Song Dae Geuk wiped the blood from his cheek with his sword aura and smiled.
Meanwhile, fierce combat raged on the opposite side.
“Hah!”
Im Ha Ryul swallowed his breath, ducked beneath the strange sickle being swung at him, and drove his knee upward with force into his opponent’s abdomen.
It was a variant of the Gwon Gak Sool he had learned from Jinmu Temple.
The warrior who had wielded the sickle bent his head as though bowing under the sharp, decisive blow.
And Im Ha Ryul was not the sort to overlook an opening left so exposed.
‘Jinmu Palm!’
She spread her empty left hand wide and drove it down hard against the warrior’s bowed back.
Crash!
The warrior collapsed straight to the ground.
Landing flush without defense, the palm strike shattered something inside him.
“Guh—”
The warrior convulsed, coughing up blood and fragments of viscera.
“Finally, one down…….”
Sweat poured down Im Ha Ryul’s entire body.
With each blow, each clash, her flesh trembled.
The other Myeoljeoldae members around her cut through the Sapa warriors with ease, but she was not among them.
The lowest rank within Myeoljeoldae.
It was difficult to be certain she was even stronger than the Sapa warriors before her eyes.
And yet.
‘I’m not afraid.’
She drew her breath slowly, deliberately.
The opponent was strong, but for some reason her nerves did not tighten as much as they might have.
‘Compared to the Deputy Commander…….’
Recalling her sparring matches with Cheon Hui, the enemies before her seemed manageable.
She steadied her resolve and drew up her internal force.
Jinmu Gong.
Not an exceptional Heart Technique by any measure.
A wanderer’s Heart Technique, never recognized as a formal school.
That was all it was.
And yet it was the martial art she had spent her short life learning. The inner power of that Jinmu Gong now followed her will of its own accord, slowly wrapping around her blade.
Inner force flowing softly.
Soon a faint Sword Qi, shimmering like heat haze, enveloped the blade and revealed its presence.
Im Ha Ryul fixed her gaze on the Sapa warriors bearing Gimun weapons, and tensed the tips of her toes.
The end of her leather sole dug into the earth.
Just as the hard sensation of soil registered, Im Ha Ryul’s body shot forward.
Like a single ray of light.
Just as Im Ha Ryul moved, so too did the other Myeoljeoldae members, each advancing with composure.
In another time, they would have been swept up in the fervor of this battle, but not now.
They were cold.
And.
Slice!
The assassins showed no hesitation.
Though they had executed only two missions, the experience gathered between them had made Myeoljeoldae utterly dominant over the Sapa warriors.
And at one end of this battlefield, a group stood motionless, holding their breath.
Hong Yang Moon Ju and his subordinates below him.
Along with others like them, who had been conserving their strength.
“Gae Bang and Konglun, and Cheong Seong…….”
An old man muttered, his voice low and heavy.
Judging by his wrinkled face and bent spine, his years were considerable.
All ears turned toward him.
Jeol Gang Gwi Su.
A master of the previous generation, infamous throughout Zhejiang Province for brutal methods, and among those gathered here, he possessed martial prowess that could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
“Are they men sent by the Murim Alliance?”
The old man muttered, his long snow-white beard trembling slightly.
“They are.”
An answer came to his half-spoken question.
From an unexpected quarter.
Step, step.
Cheon Hui, who had drawn a blade tinged with crimson light, was walking lightly over the snow.
His gait was as casual as a leisurely stroll.
Yet those who saw him draw closer could not suppress their shock.
Not a single footprint marked the snow he had crossed.
What that meant was clear.
“Tap Seol Mu Heun?!”
In that instant, Ak Shim Gun, the sect leader of Gunweibang, let out a cry of astonishment.
That was far from all.
The martial masters of the heterodox sects in the region, who had only heard rumors of the Maehwa Shinhyeop’s martial prowess, felt their breath catch in their throats.
Then.
“What are you doing? You’re giving me space.”
A voice tinged with mockery drifted across the distance.
Five paces apart.
Cheon Hui, who had paused at that distance, opened his mouth again.
“If you don’t like the opening move, I’ll come to you.”
Cheon Hui raised Hwa Weol to chest height.
The mere act of drawing the blade.
Yet with that single gesture, the heterodox sect martial artists’ eyes flew wide.
A colorless shimmer bloomed along the sword’s edge.
Like a mirage devoid of substance, the shimmer soon coalesced into one, transforming into a flower.
A blossom that had bloomed within a snow-laden winter.
The heterodox sect martial artists froze in terror.
The identity of that crimson flower was unmistakable.
The essence of the Huashan Sect—the Sword Flower.
“The Maehwa Sword Technique…?!”
In that instant, the blossom descended upon roughly ten warriors standing at the very front.
Pshhew!
Blood erupted from all directions.
Crimson blooms born from the blade—blood flowers—scattered like petals falling before spring winds, mingling with the snow as they danced.
Ghastly, yet beautiful.
The ten warriors soon collapsed forward without so much as a groan.
Thud.
A dull sound followed in its wake.
Though the space resounded with the clash of steel and tumultuous noise, this struck particularly loud.
Blood spattered belatedly as Cheon Hui stepped over the crimson-stained bodies and raised his head.
His impassive gaze took them all in.
It was a sight that commanded silence.
No one had seen it.
Neither the sword being swung nor which technique was employed.
The moment the blade rose—
Everything was already finished.
“Perhaps too shallow.”
Cheon Hui glanced at the fallen bodies, then raised Hwa Weol again.
The inner power of the Plum Blossom Divine Art surged.
The force erupting around his feet scattered the snowflakes in an instant, making them vanish.
An overwhelming display of martial prowess.
From within that aura, Cheon Hui swept his gaze across the heterodox sect martial artists one by one, then spoke slowly.
“This time, I’ll end your lives for certain.”
* * *
Whoosh!
Nong Jil furrowed her brow at the intense wave of force she felt behind her, then turned her head.
A distance of roughly two hundred paces.
Despite the considerable distance, the palpable aura that reached her sparked her curiosity.
Something that defied words.
An exalted aura.
“Hmm? What is this energy?”
Wicked? Demonic? Daoist? Buddhist?
None of those.
It was transparent.
Like the vital breath of nature itself.
Yet she soon had to turn her attention away.
Something more pressing lay before her.
Swish—
Nong Jil placed the smoking pipe between her lips.
Smoke drifted in, stimulating her sense of smell.
Perhaps because she recognized the familiar scent.
Her turbulent thoughts grew calm, and she turned her head back, gazing forward.
The Mountain Gate of Bokho Temple.
Beneath a plaque awash in spiritual force, a figure stood rigid and steadfast as a deity, guarding the gate.
A middle-aged woman with steel-grey cropped hair.
Nong Jil had come to recognize that So Un Sa Tae was considerably older than her appearance suggested.
“You must be So Un Sa Tae.”
Just as Nong Jil had guessed, she was indeed—the Sect Master of Amipa, So Un Sa Tae herself.
So Un Sa Tae’s gaze fixed upon Nong Jil.
Brows arched upward, eyes lidded half-open.
The veil of silk concealing the lower half of her face.
And beneath it, flesh left bare by her scandalous robes—in that decadent form lay a degenerate power that thrummed with presence.
“Not a celestial demon, then. A demon beast.”
So Un Sa Tae spoke in a low murmur, and with a sharp motion, raised the Yunhoesyukhwanjang high before driving it downward.
A furious howl tore through the air!
The snow piled around them was swept away in an instant by the tempest of force she unleashed.
It was a strike charged with formidable spiritual power.
As the avalanche of snow bore down upon her, Nong Jil shook the Gom Bang Dae lightly.
A sharp whistle cut through the moment!
The snow storm and the spiritual force were bisected cleanly.
She then flicked her wrist, letting the residual force dissipate from her hand that gripped the Gom Bang Dae.
“They call you the Divine Sage of Emei in certain circles, and your spiritual power is indeed formidable.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits as she studied So Un Sa Tae.
Those long, slanted eyes gleamed as they transformed, fox-like in their cunning light.
Eerie and cold—a predator’s gaze.
“I find myself even more curious about the taste of your blood.”
With those words, Nong Jil swept the Gom Bang Dae downward in one fluid motion.
In that instant, a single lance of force energy was born.
A shrill wail pierced the air!
The force lance shot forward, cleaving rapidly through the cold.
Just as So Un Sa Tae moved to raise the Yunhoesyukhwanjang to meet it.
A subtle whisper—
Nong Jil’s gaze twisted sharply.
In that same breath, the force lance spiraled upward toward the sky.
“……!”
So Un Sa Tae, startled, rushed to swing the Yunhoesyukhwanjang.
But the force lance struck the plaque above first.
With a sickening crack!
It shattered to fragments in an instant.
The remains of the plaque fell with a heavy thud below.
So Un Sa Tae trembled as she stared at the shattered pieces at her feet.
That plaque had carried the history of Amipa.
And now it lay in ruins.
From So Un Sa Tae’s entire being, formidable spiritual force rose up, her monastic robes billowing.
The Great Silent Divine Art.
The manifestation of Amipa’s supreme technique.
The spiritual force that erupted from her as its center swept over Nong Jil and the countless soldiers behind her.
Though all here were elite, several of the warriors flinched at the onslaught.
Even Nong Jil felt a moment of genuine surprise at the intensity of the force closing in upon her.
“……You!”
So Un Sa Tae’s eyes flew wide open.
It was a fury that had never shown itself before, and would never show itself again.
Seeing this, Nong Jil’s expression brightened with satisfaction as she shook the Gom Bang Dae.
An order followed, soft but absolute.
“Annihilate Amipa.”

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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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