Reincarnation of the Blood Demon - Chapter 11

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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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Blood Reincarnation
Episode 11
You fight well for someone like you?
Knock-knock.
The sound of knuckles against the door.
Jick Unhwi stirred from his meditative trance, and the gnawing hunger that greeted him told him far more time had passed than he’d realized.
‘Have I been sitting here a full day?’
Through the window, sunlight streamed in.
He’d begun his meditation at dawn, yet the sun still hung in the sky—which meant he’d come full circle and arrived at this moment some twenty-four hours later.
As he composed himself and stepped out, he found Joo Igyeom standing askew with arms crossed, and Ma Hyeoljin beside him with his head bowed low.
“We’ve received no word from you in four days, so we took the liberty of calling despite the impropriety.”
Jick Unhwi realized the gap in time was longer than he’d first assumed, but what Ma Hyeoljin said next caught his attention far more.
“The Heuk Weol Moon has been causing trouble.”
The Heuk Weol Moon—one of Namhwa County’s sects that, along with the Jick Sa Bang, had always looked down on and opposed the Third Son.
They’d been among his intended targets next, so having prey walk straight through the door was a stroke of fortune.
“That’s convenient.”
Jick Unhwi’s face brightened, and he gave a small nod.
“Guide me there. I’ll take breakfast at the Heuk Weol Moon.”
Though Jick Unhwi’s manner had turned eager, Ma Hyeoljin’s expression remained clouded.
“I apologize. We attempted to hold them back on our own, but I’m afraid we were outmatched in numbers…”
As Ma Hyeoljin lowered his head in contrition, Jick Unhwi merely waved a hand dismissively.
“It’s fine. As long as you didn’t scatter and run, that’s enough.”
The Jick Sa Bang had suffered grievously in recent days—losing both the previous lord and several of his subordinates, which had left their strength badly eroded.
The Heuk Weol Moon had been a sect of somewhat higher standing even when the Jick Sa Bang was at its peak, so it would have been impossible for Ma Hyeoljin and a handful of other lieutenants to hold them back alone.
He should perhaps have praised them for not scattering during those four days while he’d been lost in a state of selflessness.
“Setting them aside for now—what were you doing all this time?”
He narrowed his eyes as he turned to Joo Igyeom.
“I was protecting the young lord, of course. That’s my duty as your guard, isn’t it?”
Joo Igyeom spoke with a confident smirk, his tone light.
Jick Unhwi let out a small laugh in return.
“Sure you were.”
With that, Jick Unhwi—now bearing the Jikdo of the dead lord at his waist—turned and strode from the room without hesitation.
Four days without food or drink, yet this blessed body remained vigorous and sharp.
The toll from using the Yeokseong Jingyeong had already faded long ago.
Life Force coursing through the Blood Meridian—opened again after a decade of being sealed—was awakening his mind and muscles anew.
“Let’s go.”
And so three men cut across Namhwa County.
“Where are they holed up?”
“They’ve gathered outside our building. The sect leader isn’t among them, but the deputy leader has brought a considerable force.”
“What’s their grievance?”
“Apparently the previous lord and the Heuk Weol Moon’s leader had some private arrangement. Now that the lord is dead, the deal has fallen through—and they’re making a scene demanding compensation.”
“Foolish bastards. Did they learn nothing from watching the last lord die?”
“They seem to think they were simply lucky.”
Such was the way of it—some men only learned when you beat the lesson into them.
Many of Namhwa County’s major powers had chosen not to attend the Life-Death Trial that day, so there would likely be considerable doubt among them about the true extent of Jick Unhwi’s strength.
“I imagine the Heuk Weol Moon isn’t alone in that assumption?”
At Jick Unhwi’s question, Ma Hyeoljin nodded, his expression darkening somewhat.
“Yes. I suspect most of the prominent sects share similar doubts.”
“Which sects would those be?”
“Aside from the Heuk Weol Moon that just appeared at our door, there’s the Namho Moon and Bilyu Bo at comparable strength, and above them stands the Cheon Ryu Hoe as the dominant power.”
“Unnecessarily crowded.”
Jick Unhwi hadn’t asked out of ignorance.
Even for the Third Son, it was necessary to know which forces occupied one’s territory of influence.
‘Just like you’d expect from a Hyeol Gyo bunch—not a single one of them contributes anything to the welfare of common folk.’
For that reason, Jick Unhwi had already resolved to swallow them all whole and bring Namhwa County under unified rule.
“What sort of organization is the Heuk Weol Moon?”
He already had a rough sense of each faction through the Third Son’s memories, but hearing it from someone immersed in the same world would be more precise.
Ma Hyeoljin paused as if gathering his thoughts, then furrowed his brow as he answered.
“I’d call them a typical Hyeol Gyo sect.”
“Give me details.”
“In their territories, they live like kings. Extortion, blackmail—that’s just the baseline. They loan money by force, and if you can’t repay, they work you like a slave.”
“Typical.”
“Recently, there’s been evidence they’ve extended their reach to human trafficking and narcotics.”
“Human trafficking?”
Jick Unhwi’s expression darkened at once.
For all that Hyeol Gyo preached the doctrine of survival of the fittest, this was still a place where people lived. There had to be a line—a minimum standard.
Crimes against sect members were punished severely within Hyeol Gyo, and unprovoked violence against outsiders, regardless of whether they’d taken the vows, was grounds for discipline. This was written plainly in the Hyeol Cheon Scripture.
Hyeol Gyo was not some lawless mob that could grab passing strangers off the street for human sacrifice and expect applause.
‘If it had been that way from the beginning, we wouldn’t have lasted this long.’
Either external forces would have torn them down, or internal conflict would have fractured them from within. It wouldn’t have endured.
Paradoxical as it was, holding to certain principles as a demonic sect was ultimately what allowed them to survive.
‘Though lately, I’ll admit it’s been getting thin.’
From that perspective, dogs like those in Heuk Weol Moon were absolutely vile.
They were a tumor that would taint the sect’s reputation—malignancies to be excised without delay.
But Jick Unhwi’s attention had fastened on something else entirely.
‘Those young things used in the human sacrifice. They must have brought them all through human trafficking.’
He had a strong intuition that this incident and the operations Heuk Weol Moon was running were somehow connected.
Everything could be verified by direct inspection.
Jick Unhwi murmured, his tone icy.
“Coming straight at me like this—how considerate. You’ve saved me the trouble.”
Moving forward without hesitation, he arrived soon enough.
* * *
Before the main gate of Jick Sa Bang.
A line of martial artists had surrounded the gate as if laying siege to it.
“So. You found me?”
“Third Son. You’ve arrived.”
A broad-shouldered man bearing an enormous tomahawk across his back turned to look.
Around him stood men in black martial robes—members of Heuk Weol Moon—while battered disciples of Jick Sa Bang lay groaning in scattered heaps, clearly having taken a beating moments before.
Jick Unhwi glanced around, his eyes growing cold.
“Third Son is what you call me now, is it? Are we friends, you bastard?”
“…Please refrain from such discourteous speech.”
“Discourteous is you crawling up here like this with all your numbers. Every last one of you dumb as stumps—it’s suffocating. What do you want?”
At his words, Bu Moonju, who had been glaring at Jick Unhwi, clicked his tongue as if considering retreat.
“A few days ago, there was some business between the late Jick Sa Bang Lord and our sect.”
“Business?”
“Nothing elaborate—merely following our doctrine. Rising to higher planes through the blood and flesh of the weak. That is the great teaching of Hyeol Cheon, after all.”
“Ah…”
At Jick Unhwi’s peculiar response, Bu Moonju pressed forward with a sneer.
“The Jick Sa Bang Lord said he needed sacrifices for the Daebeop, so we obligingly gathered them for him. Quite the effort it took, I assure you.”
The way he spoke of people—like livestock, like ritual objects.
Jick Unhwi’s expression grew quieter still, and he tilted his chin.
“Be specific.”
“Nothing much to it. He suddenly demanded young children. Took some work to source them. But here’s the problem—we still have surplus inventory left over. The Jick Sa Bang Lord died so abruptly, you see.”
As he spoke, his gaze turned blatantly toward Jick Unhwi.
When Jick Unhwi heard the answer, a cold smile crossed his lips.
“He doesn’t even look human anymore.”
The moment it was confirmed that Heuk Weol Moon had indeed been conducting human trafficking.
As expected, the Jick Sa Bang Lord had been entangled in it as well.
‘I never heard about this.’
He glanced quietly at Ma Hyeoljin, who was shaking his head in alarm—clearly he’d known nothing of it either.
From his reaction, it seemed the previous Jick Sa Bang Lord must have pursued it independently, without informing anyone.
Hearing Bu Moonju mention that inventory still remained, it appeared preparations for another human sacrifice were already underway.
‘I let that bastard go far too easily.’
If he’d known, he would have made the end far more agonizing. The regret came too late.
Regardless, Bu Moonju grinned again.
“Why the complaint? We merely followed the Strong Survive Doctrine. When you think about it, Third Son—though I’m not sure what you did exactly—the fact that you’ve turned out so intact suggests you yourself benefited from human sacrifice, doesn’t it?”
Bu Moonju continued with a sneer.
“If we’ve converted those useless criminals into something useful for this great work, isn’t that glory for them? Besides, we’re not the only place in this sect that offers sacrifice. Everyone lives this way. So why do you stand alone in false pride and overturn the rice bowls of us humble believers?”
Jick Unhwi’s expression became utterly still.
In contrast, tension rose sharply across the faces of Joo Igyeom and Ma Hyeoljin.
By now, he had learned through bitter experience that the Third Son was far more dangerous in his quiet moments than in his rages.
‘Doctrine……’
His mind went cold and clear.
He felt sick.
Sick that the martial spirit of the Strong Survive Doctrine he had forged had degraded into something so contemptible.
And sick that this idiot was spouting it like some proud article of faith, his words scraping raw against everything Jick Unhwi believed.
“Hah.”
At last, Jick Unhwi’s mouth twisted cold.
Here was this fool, earnestly spinning out nothing but drivel.
“You dare invoke Human Sacrifice before the Third Son? Don’t you know that’s a capital crime?”
“Does anyone in this sect not know you’re the Sect Leader’s bastard? And no matter how great the Sect Leader is, he’s not above the mighty Hyeol Cheon, is he? It would be laughable to deny now the Doctrine that Hyeol Cheon himself ordained.”
“Remarkable logic indeed.”
It was miraculous reasoning—the kind that made a man’s mind reel.
Of course, the listener being none other than Hyeol Cheon himself was rather the problem.
And then Bu Moonju delivered his final stroke.
“Let’s be frank—if you died here, who would know the truth? They’d think your constitution took you. Let’s keep this simple. Besides, you’re the Sect Leader’s son; there’s no shortage of coin.”
One insult after another, each one invoking the Sect Leader by name.
It was said even the Son of Heaven was cursed behind closed doors, but this man had crossed a line.
There were always fools like this—drunk on their own cleverness, saying things they couldn’t possibly back.
Jick Unhwi nodded slowly and rested his hand on the hilt at his waist.
“Fine. On that matter, I’ll speak with your Sect Leader again.”
“You should have said so from the start.”
“But I am curious about one thing.”
“What is it?”
The blade sang as it drew.
In one fluid motion, it swept through Bu Moonju’s right arm, severing it cleanly.
Thud.
The severed limb fell beyond the reach of any technique, spraying red across the floor.
With blood still dripping down his face, Jick Unhwi grinned wide and terrible.
“What makes you so confident, anyway?”
“……What?”
When shock strikes so suddenly, the human mind cannot think clearly.
Staring down at his own shoulder, Bu Moonju saw only empty space where his arm had been.
The moment understanding came, agony flooded in.
“Aaaaagh!”
He hurled his Tomahawk by reflex; Jick Unhwi simply tilted his head and let it pass.
“You seemed so certain I wondered what you were banking on. Turns out you’re just a fool.”
Then, almost lazily, his blade swept again, and both of Bu Moonju’s legs fell away.
The blade hissed.
“Noooo!”
Bu Moonju’s face twisted in agony and confusion, his scream tearing from his throat.
He never even saw the strike coming.
It made sense. The Jick Unhwi of this moment existed on an entirely different plane than he had during the Life-Death Trial.
“Huh……”
With his legs severed, his gaze naturally fell lower.
Jick Unhwi crouched down, seized Bu Moonju’s hair, and wrenched his face upward.
“Why did the Jick Sa Bang Lord die to me? Because he’s a fool? He is a fool, that much is true.”
“Hgh, hgh! Hghghgh!”
“You think you’re so skilled? Why do you scratch and flail at a man who’s shown you restraint, hmm?”
Drowning in pain, Bu Moonju’s voice cracked into hysteria.
“The, the Sect Leader! If the Sect Leader finds out, he won’t just let this stand!”
“He won’t. But what can he do about it now? I’ve already cut it off. There’s no putting it back.”
Jick Unhwi grabbed the severed arm from the floor and ground it savagely against the wound on Bu Moonju’s shoulder.
The agony was so searing that foam spilled from Bu Moonju’s lips.
“It won’t reattach. You should have trained your External Cultivation more in your spare time.”
Jick Unhwi clicked his tongue and tossed the severed limb aside like rubbish.
‘Can that even be done through External Cultivation?’
Ma Hyeoljin, watching from a distance, thought as much to himself.
At the same time, he realized that the Third Son had treated them with something approaching courtesy—and a new chill ran down his spine.
“How dare you strike the Sect Leader’s representative!”
“Die!”
It was only then, shocked out of their stupor by the grotesque scene, that the Heuk Weol Moon disciples belatedly drew their weapons and rushed forward.
“Now, now—careful.”
Thwack!
Joo Igyeom’s blade, thrust forth as though he’d been waiting for this very moment, pierced through one man’s chest, and when he suddenly drove his leg forward, the rushing disciple’s foot caught and sent him sprawling.
“Ugh!”
The Heuk Weol Moon disciple thrashed, panicking as he tried to rise.
But Jick Unhwi was not the sort to wait.
Crunch!
Gripping the Jikdo in a reverse hold, he brought it down in a vicious strike, and the thrashing disciple went still.
The atmosphere grew colder still. Jick Unhwi’s eyes blazed as he let out a low growl.
“You disrespectful bastards. Your betters are in conversation.”
Though to call it conversation was generous—it was more akin to Jick Unhwi’s unilateral pronouncement.
And as all this unfolded.
“P-please… spare me…….”
Bu Moonju begged for his life with desperate fervor, but his focus soon scattered and grew dim. Exsanguination.
“For all that bulk, the man was pathetically frail.”
Jick Unhwi, having discarded the corpse of Bu Moonju, turned his gaze toward the Heuk Weol Moon disciples who stood uncertainly.
“……!”
The disciples flinched in alarm.
His face splattered crimson with Bu Moonju’s blood, Jick Unhwi smiled and spoke.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to seek revenge?”

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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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