Reincarnation of the Blood Demon - Chapter 13

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

Blood Demon Reincarnation
Chapter 13
Make me some food.
“Hah.”
The cold emanating from his fingertip scattered into the breath of air, dissipating.
Nang Ah-geom lay sprawled on the ground, tears of blood streaming down his face—a pitiful sight—yet Jeok Unhwi regarded him with the indifference one might show a dead insect.
‘Cheap. Too easy.’
Had the Righteous Sects witnessed it, they’d have foamed at the mouth calling him a coward.
Of course, Jeok Unhwi spared it not a thought.
‘The fool deserved it.’
Any master, no matter how skilled, dies with a hole through the skull.
An attack that slips through an opening of carelessness becomes a killing blow in itself—and vigilance, too, is part of a Martial Artist’s strength.
So Jeok Unhwi felt not a shred of conscience. If anything, a faint satisfaction bloomed in his chest.
‘These past three days have borne fruit.’
Most notably, the speed at which he drew up his Qi had improved dramatically.
Now, with small amounts, a brief moment of concentration sufficed.
Closing his eyes just now, as if buying time, had been the preparatory motion.
‘Though it’s still too slow for real combat…….’
With repeated practice, that gap would close soon enough.
As for the power—well, he’d confirmed it himself.
‘I barely drew on it, yet this.’
What he’d just fired was Qi accumulated over roughly half an hour.
Not a vast amount by any measure, but sufficient.
Humans, after all, were creatures that could die from a needle as thin as a strand of hair.
At that moment, Heugyuol Moonju, startled, asked in a cowed voice.
“What—what in heaven’s name is that martial art?”
The Third Master, who had been waiting quietly, suddenly pointed a finger, and a black force shot forth, piercing clean through his escort’s skull.
A technique utterly beyond comprehension.
“This? Well…….”
Jeok Unhwi didn’t answer at once.
In truth, he himself had performed it without thought.
“Ah, right.”
After a moment’s consideration, Jeok Unhwi snapped his fingers as if remembering.
Heugyuol Moonju flinched at the gesture, naturally.
“Finger Flicking Divine Art. That’s what it is.”
Unlike the Reverse Pulse Meridian Technique, which discharged powerful Qi from the palm, the Finger Flicking Divine Art was a technique that sent fine jets of Qi from the fingertips.
The process was identical, but the results differed; thus the distinction in naming was apt.
Of course, Heugyuol Moonju remained utterly bewildered.
‘……Finger Flicking Divine Art?’
It wasn’t a name he’d never heard. Any Martial Artist worth his salt who used Finger Techniques or Hidden Weapons Art shouted the name about constantly.
But usually, when one spoke of the Finger Flicking Divine Art, there followed the motion of firing projectiles or unleashing energy waves.
Not simply pointing at an opponent with a flick of the finger and shooting them dead.
“You didn’t even flick your finger. How is that the Finger Flicking Divine Art?”
“My will decides it.”
“What…….”
From that curt reply alone, Heugyuol Moonju grasped that Jeok Unhwi was far more unusual than he’d imagined.
‘When I saw him before, he was nothing like this……?’
There was something odd about his very gaze from the start. Whether meaningful discourse was even possible seemed doubtful.
But before he could dwell on it further, Jeok Unhwi spoke first.
“Your escort is finished now. What about you?”
“……Is it really true that the Ghost Blood Squad is coming?”
“Why would the Ghost Blood Squad come to this backwater? Do you have no brain?”
“You—you just said——!”
“And you believed it?”
Jeok Unhwi exhaled in exasperation, as if the question itself were absurd.
‘After saying it himself……!’
Another layer of inexplicable frustration settled over Heugyuol Moonju’s heart.
“……What becomes of me now?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to become?”
He posed the question leisurely, yet his eyes had turned cold and sharp.
A question asked with such indifference, as though it mattered not at all what became of him.
Heugyuol Moonju found himself backing away without thinking.
As he retreated, his eyes fell upon Nang Ah-geom’s body sprawled across the floor.
‘Nang Ah-geom was stronger than me, and a single finger brought him down.’
But that was not all. Neither he nor Nang Ah-geom had even managed to react in the moment of death.
Which meant that he too would die the instant that finger pointed toward him.
It seemed as though some terrible dark projectile might fly from that finger at any moment.
‘……I cannot win.’
The moment he grasped the overwhelming disparity in power, the choice to fight vanished completely from Heugyuol Moonju’s mind.
That left only one option.
Thud.
Heugyuol Moonju’s legs buckled beneath him, and he dropped to his knees.
“……P-please, spare me.”
Jeok Unhwi simply stared in silence as Heugyuol Moonju continued, sweat streaming down his face.
“I’ll do whatever you command. I beg you—just let me live……!”
“Hah.”
The sight of him trembling and kowtowing was rather pathetic.
Jeok Unhwi’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at that figure.
“A Blood Cult dog like you…….”
Had he shown even a shred of resistance until the end, Jeok Unhwi might have granted him some respect.
But seeing such spinelessness, such utter lack of pride or backbone, drained away whatever interest remained.
‘……Still.’
Perhaps it was because the tension had broken.
Suddenly, a sharp hunger washed over him.
Now that he thought about it, hadn’t he spent the past three days without eating, doing nothing but training?
‘Well, this works out.’
Jeok Unhwi let out a quiet laugh.
Killing him wasn’t particularly urgent. He could always do that later, whenever he wished.
Right now, there was something more pressing than the man’s life.
Jeok Unhwi’s eyes gleamed with interest.
“So you’ll do whatever I command?”
Heugyuol Moonju nodded despite the bone-deep dread he felt, unable to refuse.
“……Yes.”
He had braced himself for demands to surrender his wealth or the like, but what Jeok Unhwi said next shattered that expectation entirely.
“Then go prepare some food. I haven’t eaten since morning and I’m starving.”
* * *
“……It’s ready.”
Heugyuol Moonju awkwardly arranged dishes on the table.
Even as he did so, he fretted anxiously, half-suspecting that Jeok Unhwi might have some hidden scheme in mind—but of course, it was all in vain.
He was genuinely hungry, nothing more.
The spread was unremarkable: grilled meat, seasoned vegetables, soup, rice, and a bottle of White Spirit.
But the execution was dreadful. The meat was charred black from poor heat control, and the vegetables still bore rough, unpeeled skin, untouched by any proper knife work.
The noodles were bloated and waterlogged, and the broth reeked of an unidentifiable fishiness.
Of it all, only the bottle of White Spirit brought from outside was actually edible.
Which made perfect sense.
He had held nothing but killing blades his whole life—when would he ever have wielded a kitchen knife?
Moreover, Jeok Unhwi had insisted that Heugyuol Moonju prepare the meal entirely alone, without servants, so even this meager spread had been scraped together with desperate effort.
“It looks absolutely revolting. You could throw this at a beggar in the Slum District and he’d flip the bowl.”
“Truly. It’s remarkable.”
At these grave assessments from both of them, Heugyuol Moonju’s face only reddened.
Then, noticing Heugyuol Moonju standing silent and vacant, Jeok Unhwi frowned.
“What are you doing? Eat.”
“I’m to eat as well?”
“Or would you have me choke down this abomination alone? What a peculiar man you are.”
“……I’ll prepare my portion.”
With a sigh, Heugyuol Moonju finally brought his own serving.
“And you, my lord?”
At this courteous invitation to join them, Ju Igyeom shook his head with the most resolute expression he had shown yet.
“I ate a large breakfast.”
“Ah……I see.”
“Look after him instead of me. He needs to eat well and put on some weight.”
“You madman—posing as a guard and attempting assassination?”
“Hmm…….”
At Ju Igyeom’s words, Heugyuol Moonju glanced uncertainly toward the newcomer’s plate, wondering if he should fetch more—but the murderous glint in the man’s eyes forced him to close his mouth and sit back down.
Jeok Unhwi clapped his hands together in exaggerated appreciation.
“What a magnificent visage indeed. Enough to kill anyone’s appetite on the spot.”
“It’s my first time cooking…….”
“Of course it is. You know how to eat, not how to make anything. Pathetic wretch.”
“……!”
“Was I harsh? What of it?”
“…….”
From dawn onward—the sect dissolved to ruin, its ruin-maker and its master now seated side by side at the same table. A peculiar tableau.
“There’s no poison, is there?”
“Of course not.”
“Spare me the theatrics. Taste it first.”
“Sigh…….”
With no other choice, Heugyuol Moonju picked up his chopsticks, hesitated, then took a bite of noodles.
Even his posture and expression screamed reluctance.
“Ugh……!”
He chewed uncertainly, then suddenly twisted his face and barely managed to swallow.
He quickly gulped down wine to wash away that ghastly sensation.
Afterward, Heugyuol Moonju stared at the noodle bowl with a thoroughly contorted expression.
‘I made this filth?’
His face screamed exactly that thought.
Jeok Unhwi took a bite after him and wore the same expression.
“In all my years, this is hands down the worst thing I’ve ever eaten. A complete fool who can’t even prepare noodles properly.”
Finally, Heugyuol Moonju could contain himself no longer and burst out.
“Curse it all! I am a martial artist!”
“A martial artist? You’re a procurer who toys with the powerless. Don’t call yourself anything—you’re a flesh merchant, you bastard.”
“You heap such shame upon me merely for that?”
“Stop your ranting. Then bring me something that tastes decent.”
“How dare you……!”
As Heugyuol Moonju rose furiously, Jeok Unhwi’s voice cut through like ice.
“Sit down. Unless you’d prefer to die.”
“Gah……!”
Heugyuol Moonju, reading the mood, finally sank back into his seat helplessly, and Jeok Unhwi resumed eating.
While Heugyuol Moonju fidgeted anxiously, eyes fixed on the table, Jeok Unhwi spoke quietly.
“Eat. A man should at least have a full belly before he goes.”
“……!”
With those words, Heugyuol Moonju understood that he had no intention of letting him live—yet Jeok Unhwi ate the ruined fare without a word.
Finally, Heugyuol Moonju, cold sweat beading his forehead, gripped his chopsticks again.
“Ugh……!”
He chewed and swallowed by sheer force, then grimaced and drained his soup.
The horrible taste and crushing dread made him want to retch, but Jeok Unhwi toyed with his dishes as calmly as though nothing were wrong.
Heugyuol Moonju, in turn, forced himself to continue eating.
For if he did not, he was certain the man across from him would slit his throat on the instant.
Heugyuol Moonju wanted to live, even if only a moment longer.
As silence settled over the meal once more, Jeok Unhwi suddenly spoke.
“Where do the people you brought end up?”
“They wait temporarily in the sect compound, then disperse to various places. Some have been taken beyond Namhwa County.”
“How many did you sell?”
“I’m not certain of the exact number, but……at least thirty. I took only those from the Slum District with no connections, so there’ll be no loose ends! I swear it!”
An excuse that showed no awareness whatsoever of how vile what he had done truly was.
Jeok Unhwi smiled. It was the same smile from just before he had killed Bu Moonju.
Ma Hyeol-jin, watching, immediately sensed violence was coming, and Heugyuol Moonju, catching that uneasy air, hurriedly continued.
“Master—no, Master Jeok. Please, spare me. I swear I will never undertake such business again.”
“Are those you’ve brought recently still inside the Black Moon Sect?”
“They’re in the Inner Chamber. I’ll bring them out myself.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Jeok Unhwi’s gaze upon Heugyuol Moonju had changed from before—something different kindled in those eyes.
His eyes were blank, yet they held the look of someone who had already made a decision.
Heugyuol Moonju grew more frantic.
“I know the names of those who were sold. I can find them again.”
“My subordinates can do that.”
“I have considerable savings accumulated! I will give everything!”
“What do you think I’m going to say?”
“This is maddening!”
Seized by fear and rage, Heugyuol Moonju convulsed and slammed the dining table with a bang.
The food in the bowls scattered and spilled across the surface.
“What’s so wrong with running a little business like this!”
Jeok Unhwi watched him in silence.
Consumed by anger and terror, Heugyuol Moonju was ironically displaying a courage he had never mustered before.
“Are we the Righteous Sects? What do the rules of the Martial World have to do with us Blood Cult members!”
……
“Supremacy of the Strong! To rule over the weak and become stronger than anyone else—isn’t that the doctrine we should revere!”
Heugyuol Moonju’s face flushed crimson as he gasped and snorted, unable to contain his fury, and Jeok Unhwi spoke softly.
“Are you finished?”
In that instant, all strength drained from Heugyuol Moonju, and he slumped into his chair.
His voice escaped, hollow and exhausted, through his half-open mouth.
“…Please, spare me.”
“You know that’s impossible.”
Jeok Unhwi slowly drew his Straight Sword, and asked one final question.
“What is your name?”
“I, I am──”
Crack!
In that moment, a chopstick streaked through the air like lightning and pierced Heugyuol Moonju’s forehead with brutal precision.
Thud.
Heugyuol Moonju’s corpse—its head driven into the mediocre meal he had prepared—twitched violently before going limp.
Staring down dispassionately at the blood-soaked table, Jeok Unhwi murmured.
“Now that I think of it, I didn’t really want to know.”
He sheathed the blade he had drawn and drank alone in quiet stillness.
“That was satisfying. The taste, however, left much to be desired.”

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