Reincarnation of the Blood Demon - Chapter 4

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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 Demon Reincarnation
Chapter 4
Entering the Martial World
‘Too late—!’
Before he could even mount a defense, the blade flashed toward his neck.
In that instant, only one thought consumed Jeok Sabang-ju’s mind: death.
‘Is this the end?’
Eyes squeezed shut with that certainty, he waited.
“…….”
Yet nothing happened.
“……?”
He opened his eyes to find Jeok Unhui withdrawing the Ceremonial Short Sword, watching him with a crooked gaze.
“What?”
“What? That’s common speech, you bastard.”
“……Why do you mock me? If you mean to kill me, do it quickly.”
His voice burned with resentment, but Jeok Unhui shook his head.
“I can’t kill you now.”
“Why not?”
Jeok Sabang-ju’s eyes narrowed in confusion, and Jeok Unhui answered calmly.
“There’s no narrative value in it.”
“Narrative value?”
“It means no one would care if I killed you here.”
No witnesses were present. A cripple like Jeok Unhui would never be expected to fell a martial artist of Jeok Sabang-ju’s caliber—so if word spread, it would surely be attributed to schemes and manipulation.
The truth of why he died would become irrelevant.
“That can’t be right.”
“…….”
Jeok Sabang-ju found himself at a loss for words when Jeok Unhui leaned in and whispered.
“You must feel wronged too. Fighting drunk as you are.”
“That’s…….”
True enough. He hadn’t been performing at even thirty percent of his true strength.
Jeok Unhui’s movements had caught him off guard, but at full capacity, he could have overwhelmed such a corpse-like husk with ease.
Jeok Unhui caught the subtle shift in Jeok Sabang-ju’s expression and smiled faintly.
‘He’s taken the bait.’
That look alone was proof he was wavering.
Jeok Sabang-ju spoke again, his voice thick with confusion.
“Then what are you trying to say?”
“I’m giving you a chance.”
“A chance……?”
Sharp.
Jeok Unhui pointed the Ceremonial Short Sword at Jeok Sabang-ju, who was squinting up at him.
“We fight again in three days.”
“……!”
“If we fight before everyone’s eyes, at least the gossiping fools might be quieter about it.”
As a bonus, he’d absorb all the wealth Jeok Sabang-ju had accumulated.
Jeok Unhui stared at him for a moment in silence, then let out a cold laugh.
“Unless you’re too scared to face it.”
The provocation sent blood rushing to Jeok Sabang-ju’s face, yet he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He seemed caught between anger and suspicion of a trap.
Jeok Unhui clicked his tongue inwardly with contempt.
‘Pathetic. Even now, the bastard’s watching his step.’
Drenched in alcohol and blood, rolling his eyes about nervously—it was a pitiful sight.
Yet paradoxically, it only underscored how low Jeok Unhui’s own position had sunk, if even such a wretch could look down on him.
This was why he’d offered the proposal—for two reasons.
‘Killing him outright has no value.’
He had no interest whatsoever in the life of such a cripple.
What Jeok Unhui truly wanted was Jeok Sabang itself.
It was nothing particularly impressive as factions went, but at this juncture, that was precisely what suited him.
‘I’ll swallow it whole, every last piece, and use it as my stepping stone.’
That was one reason. The other lay in the depths of his conviction.
‘He dared to cross the line with the Blood Sect backing him. He deserves to die.’
He wanted to end it here and now, but as noted before, there would be no narrative value in that.
‘At the very least, he ought to know why he dies.’
Before all of Namhwa County, he would personally execute the trash that had crossed the line.
If Jeok Sabang-ju died, it would be for that reason alone—for having crossed the line.
Which meant that this second duel with Jeok Sabang-ju was, in effect, Jeok Unhui’s Entering the Martial World as the Third Young Lord.
Because Jeok Unhui’s proposal had been so explicit, Jeok Sabang-ju could hardly have misunderstood his intentions.
‘He means to take everything I have.’
And yet…….
“That’s only supposing you manage to beat me first, isn’t it?”
Jeok Sabang-ju’s condition right now was anything but normal. That much was undeniable.
But three days from now, things would be different.
“You think an opportunity like this will come around again?”
Jeok Sabang-ju asked as if bewildered, but Jeok Unhui’s attitude remained unchanged.
“That’s my concern. As for this bastard here—shall I just kill him for you?”
So saying, he thrust the Ceremonial Short Sword he’d been holding, and Jeok Sabang-ju flinched, stumbling backward.
“Damn it! Fine. I’ll take the wager.”
Yet even as he spoke, Jeok Sabang-ju’s relief was plain to see.
There had never been any reason to refuse such a proposal in the first place.
Jeok Unhui smiled faintly and nodded.
“A wise choice.”
“You’ll come to regret it.”
Jeok Sabang-ju ground out the words, but Jeok Unhui paid him no mind, simply picking up a Wine Bottle that lay rolling across the ground and turning away.
“See you in three days.”
The sound of the wine sloshing as Jeok Unhui tilted the bottle to his lips, his silhouette receding.
Jeok Sabang-ju could only furrow his brow in incomprehension.
* * *
Namhwa County, the Third Young Lord’s private residence.
Jeok Myeong Palace.
“You’ve returned, sir.”
Whether the cave had been properly cleaned or not, Ju Igyeom was now perched on a bench in the courtyard.
Sauntering forward, he studied Jeok Unhui and frowned.
“Didn’t you say you were going to clean up? What’s with this appearance—did you go off to sweep up corpses?”
“Close enough. In any case, I’m back.”
“Where were you?”
“Kiru.”
“?”
As Ju Igyeom blinked in confusion, uncertain what he’d just heard, Jeok Unhui waved a dismissive hand and spoke.
“There’ll be a Life-or-Death Duel with Jeok Sabang-ju in three days. Don’t let anyone in. I need to do some training.”
“Pardon? What did you say?”
“That I need to do some training.”
“That’s startling enough in itself, but before that—”
“A Life-or-Death Duel with Jeok Sabang-ju?”
Ju Igyeom’s bewilderment deepened as he asked.
“Why would you suddenly challenge Jeok Sabang-ju to a Life-or-Death Duel?”
“Because Jeok Sabang-ju is the one who orchestrated the Descent of Man sacrifice. I can’t let that slide.”
“That’s…… quite something.”
Though Ju Igyeom had sensed that the Third Young Lord had changed, he could never have anticipated such a sudden escalation into a Life-or-Death Duel with Jeok Sabang-ju.
A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he narrowed his eyes, warning in grave tones.
“Jeok Sabang-ju may be little better than a ruffian, but he still leads a martial sect. He’s a master worthy of being called First-Rate. In comparison, sir, you are…….”
Even being generous, he was below Third-Rate.
After all, because of his constitution, he’d never been able to enter martial training in any proper sense.
The Third Young Lord was more corpse than man.
Yet Jeok Unhui clicked his tongue at Ju Igyeom and spoke.
“First-Rate, Second-Rate, Third-Rate…… and Peak. Do you know what they all have in common?”
“…… A commonality, sir?”
Caught off guard by this unexpected riddle, Ju Igyeom received Jeok Unhui’s cold reply.
“They all drop dead when their heart bursts and their neck breaks.”
“……!”
After all, in the era when he’d been active, no such distinctions had existed.
“It’s nonsensical to standardize countless martial artists by such terminology in the first place. If you have time to obsess over such idiotic categories, you’d do better to swing a sword a few more times.”
“…….”
Ju Igyeom opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.
He had words to say, but the Third Young Master’s manner was far too earnest.
The conviction that poured from him left no room for rebuttal.
Presently, Ju Igyeom’s eyes narrowed with evident difficulty.
‘……That’s not wrong, at least.’
It happened often enough in the martial world—a master of considerable skill falling to someone far beneath him.
Yet it was hardly fitting for the Third Young Master to speak of such things when he hadn’t even reached the third rate.
No doubt his head had swelled from dispatching those few Jeok Sabang fighters just now—swelled quite firmly indeed.
But the real problem was this:
‘Why does it sound convincing?’
Overlaid upon the Third Young Master before him was the figure of an absolute master, someone who had rolled across countless battlefields for decades.
One moment of carelessness and Ju Igyeom would find himself nodding along.
Catching himself, Ju Igyeom swallowed hard and scattered his wandering thoughts.
‘Even I’m being swept up in this.’
The Third Young Master was decidedly not in his normal state.
It had been incomprehensible enough that he’d handled the Jeok Sabang fighters alone, but plainly the Lord of Jeok Sabang himself was on an entirely different level than those men.
“Surely you didn’t just go for a stroll…….”
A feeling as though some missing piece was clicking into place.
Ju Igyeom spoke, furrowing his brow.
“Allow me to handle this instead, Young Master. Since you’ve already dealt with the Jeok Sabang fighters, conflict is inevitable. I can manage the matter directly as your escort.”
If confrontation was bound to come, then let him settle it himself.
It was the best outcome Ju Igyeom could conceive, but Jeok Unhui merely stared at him before speaking with casual indifference.
“No.”
“Sir?”
“If you step in, there’s no fun in it.”
“……!”
That weighted tone. As Ju Igyeom hardened his expression, searching for meaning, Jeok Unhui continued.
“And besides, this debt falls to me. I’m the one who’ll see it through.”
“What do you mean by——”
Ju Igyeom fell silent, his expression bewildered.
He couldn’t fathom what the man was thinking.
‘Is this truly the Third Young Master?’
His temperament, his speech, his bearing, his very eyes——
Compared to even this morning, let alone yesterday, the man had transformed as drastically as heaven and earth remaking itself.
Nothing remained of that gloomy, dispirited wretch from memory.
“Well, I trust you understand. I’m going.”
As confusion seized Ju Igyeom’s tongue, Jeok Unhui clapped him on the shoulder and swept past.
“Oh, and bring meals on time. Even a man needs to eat to survive.”
Ju Igyeom could only stare blankly as his lord’s figure receded into the distance.
* * *
The Third Young Master’s private pavilion. Personal Training Hall.
“Hack——!”
Jeok Unhui, seated in cross-legged meditation, suddenly coughed up blood with brutal force.
Dark, viscous droplets pattered to the ground, speaking volumes of his body’s true condition.
His muscles tore with searing pain, his heart hammering as if it might burst from his ribs.
The clash with the Lord of Jeok Sabang had exacted its toll.
After expelling another mouthful of blackened blood, Jeok Unhui grimaced fiercely.
“This wretched, useless body.”
He needed no close examination to know the truth—muscles and bones, blood vessels and meridians, not a single part of him was whole.
The moment the effects of Chui Mong-ji and Blood Burst Thunder faded, the backlash crashed down upon him like a wave, leaving his head spinning.
Even without deliberately drawing on extraordinary reserves of power, the damage was this severe.
All the aftereffects from everything that had happened today were converging at once.
In all his years, his body had never been in such a state, and Jeok Unhui found himself genuinely astounded.
‘How am I even still alive?’
It was the only thought that came.
Jeok Unhui clicked his tongue softly and closed his eyes with deliberate calm.
“Hah…….”
As he centered his focus and drew in a single thread of breath, the vital energies woven through the air rushed through his nostrils in a torrent.
There was no need to activate the Internal Cultivation Technique—his very constitution drew the essence of heaven and earth with each breath.
‘Once again I’m struck by how absurd this physique is.’
Even as he marveled, Jeok Unhui drew together the thread-thin wisps of energy that had accumulated.
Since he had no intention of building internal cultivation, he did not direct it straight to his Dantian. Instead, he moved with the utmost gentleness and care, allowing it to circulate through his body.
First, he needed to observe his exact condition.
Sss…….
The true energy that flowed in through his nasal passages traced sequentially from his head through his chest, across his shoulders and arms, down to the Meridian Channels of his lower body.
His physical form was so severely weakened overall that he could not move carelessly.
Through extreme precision, he guided the energy forward, and sweat poured down like rain.
After a considerable span of time had passed, Jeok Unhui opened his eyes, and his assessment was…….
‘To have carried such a thing within me all this time and still lived—is this truly the mystery of the human form?’
From the most minute Minute Meridians to the Conception and Governor Vessels, and right down to the most critical Dantian.
There was not a single Meridian Channel in his entire body that was not clogged with Turbid Qi.
The Turbid Qi grew denser the closer it drew to the Dantian, so thick that even Jeok Unhui could not see through it all.
‘No, calling it Turbid Qi is almost laughable.’
Generally, the term Turbid Qi referred to the dregs that remained after extracting pure, clean energy.
But what existed in this body was far worse than that.
‘After devouring one another again and again, only the heaviest and darkest energy remained.’
As destruction pairs with creation, and yin with yang.
All things under heaven flow in harmony.
In that sense, the energy accumulated in Jeok Unhui’s body over these long years occupied the opposite pole of vitality—the darkest energy of all.
‘It should be called Death Qi.’
If such accumulation built up with every breath, no master, however skilled, could overcome it.
Rather, as he had initially thought, merely being alive was a remarkable feat.
And now, examining his body as he did, he could clearly understand why that had been possible.
‘My muscles and bones vastly exceed the level of an ordinary human being.’
And among these, the elasticity and durability of his Meridian Channels were so formidable that they surpassed even his former prime self.
He had thought the Third Young Master was merely a fragile, crippled thing, but the truth was the opposite.
It was not that the Third Young Master lacked ability—it was precisely because he was the Third Young Master that he had survived until he grew old.
‘I take back calling him a cripple.’
Blessed with such a body, yet enduring hellish years, and finally meeting death by his own hand—Jeok Unhui closed his eyes for a moment to pay respect to that descendant’s passing.
Though of course, only that much.
When Jeok Unhui opened his eyes again, they gleamed with bright intensity.
Suddenly, the thought occurred to him that being reborn like this was not such a terrible thing after all.
‘He claimed to have lived without regret, yet truthfully, no one truly can.’
How could anyone born human live entirely free of regret?
If there was one thing he had regretted most…….
‘It was never seeing the Peak of martial arts.’
Though he had reached the position of the foremost master of his time, he had always sensed something dimly—that his realm was not the end.
But he had only truly understood this when Jeok Sahyeok himself had already grown far too old.
‘It was impossible in practical terms, so I abandoned it…….’
But now, having gained this new opportunity, things were different.
Now…….
‘I can truly reach the Peak.’
For the first time since his rebirth, he felt something he had nearly forgotten—anticipation and exhilaration.
Jeok Unhui’s gaze burned quietly, and with a heat as deep as blood.

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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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