SSS-Class Sui**de Hunter - Chapter 81

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

Chapter 81. The Most Wretched in All the World (1)
1
Murmurs rippled across the Snowy Plain.
“What in the world has happened?”
“We… we’re alive…?”
“Is this the Peach Blossom Land…?”
Disciples of the Demon Cult. Warriors of the Righteous Sects.
The last thing they remembered was their own death. Some might recall being bitten by a Jiangshi, but none would have any memory of transforming into one themselves. For them, the blink of an eye had swallowed three years whole.
……
Only one person had lived through all three years awake.
My Master gazed out at the Snowy Plain with the bewildered expression of someone who could not trust her own eyes.
“My disciple……”line>
“Yes, Master.”

“Did you come not from beyond the frontier, but from beyond the world itself…? This—this is no Sorcery that a mere human could conjure. It is the Taoist Magic of hollow legends. Or have I, without knowing, died and arrived at the Peach Blossom Land…?”
“No. No, that’s not it.”
I shook my head.
“These people can no longer use Martial Arts like you, Master. They’ve grown far weaker than in life. But this isn’t the Peach Blossom Land, and they retain their memories from before they died.”
……
“Go and see for yourself.”
……
“Please, Master. Go on.”
Crunch. Crunch.
My Master walked forward. Crunch-crunch… light, gentle footsteps. They were the footsteps of a martial master whose Dantian had been sealed. The footsteps of a warrior who had lost her Inner Power. The footsteps of a woman left bearing only the scars of three years of illness.
The Heavenly Demon.
My Master.
She approached the disciples with those soft, measured steps. The disciples struggled to make sense of their situation.
“We must assess the current circumstances at once. Stay calm! Send out scouts—”
“Blood Ghost Squad Commander.”
She stopped.
The disciples flinched. A dozen or so of the Demon Cult fell silent. And they turned toward their Master with eyes that held no recognition.
“The Heavenly Demon…?”
My Master’s breath grew heavier, more visible in the cold air.
“Blood Ghost Squad Commander.”
……
“So it really is the Blood Ghost Squad Commander.”
Silence spread like infection. At first it was merely the silence of ten or so mouths closing. But when ten fell silent, dozens around them followed, and when dozens closed their lips, hundreds encircling them did the same.
The Snowy Plain held its breath.
“Crescent Shadow Demon Lord……”line>
“Yes.”

“Ghost Flame Demon.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“Sword Demon……”line>
“I await your command.”

My Master began to call out the names of her disciples one by one. Each summoned disciple asked nothing, only knelt. Crunch. Crunch. The snow beneath their knees sang out.
“I lost you. All of you……”line>
My Master reached out her hand.

“I lost you, and lost you again.”
She touched one disciple’s cheek. Caressed it.
“My children……”line>
Her fingers trembled. Seeing their Master’s tremor, the disciples bowed their heads in haste. Not to see what should not be seen—that was their loyalty. A thousand disciples turned their eyes down to the snow.

It was not only the disciples who were seized by shock.
“Ah, so it is.”
An old monk stroked his beard.
“This old one must surely have laid his grave-mat in the cave and crossed the river. I close my eyes and find neither the other shore nor the mountain, only this Snowy Plain……”line>
“Hold on, old priest!”

“And a demon, no less, has mixed in among us. Ah, what fate binds this old one to wander with such a being, even with closed eyes? What does the Buddha ask of this humble one?”
“The same unlucky nonsense from your mouth—so you really are a true priest!”
The Martial Alliance Master rushed forward and embraced the old monk. I could guess who he was—the one who had endured longest besides my Master and the Martial Alliance Master. The Abbot of Shaolin Temple.
“You’ve come back alive! This one has returned alive!”
“This old one is not your friend, I should think.”
“Ah! Surely the Jade Emperor himself has granted a miracle!”
“The sound of dogs eating grass.”
It meant he was eating like a beast.
“Do not soil this monk’s ears, child. From the start, I did not fall for your tricks to fight these heterodox sects. It would have been better to simply pass into the next life within the temple walls.”
“Ah! To see your warmth vanish the moment you set eyes on me—it truly confirms you are the gluttonous monk I remember! I have half a mind to give you a proper thrashing!”
The Demon Cult’s warriors fell silent, while the Righteous Sects’ martial masters spoke in eager, overlapping voices.
Each side was reuniting in their own fashion.
Time passed.
“…….”
It was my master who first turned to look at me. Our eyes met across the distance between us. Dark irises. In that gaze, a whole heart was laid bare. My own heart was being traced and imprinted upon hers.
“…The Sovereign is.”
My master parted her lips.
She turned those words toward the Martial Alliance Lord.
“The Sovereign is the Heavenly Demon, White Fragrance.”
The Martial Alliance Lord, who had been conversing with his allies, paused mid-breath. He stepped back from his companions and turned fully to face my master.
My master took the martial salute.
“Heavenly Demon.”
“…….”
“Even if all of this were but a blind man’s dream within a single night, let it be so.”
It was midday.
“Even if I were merely a wandering patient lost in dream walk, let it be so.”
The snow on the Snowy Plain did not remain eternal because the sun could not melt it, but because it melted and melted yet fell ceaselessly anew, becoming eternal through that endless renewal.
“Let the Demonic Path Supremacy be but a dream flowing past in sleep. Life has always belonged to those who chose to suffer the same illness together, and the world has always belonged to those who chose to dream the same dream.”
A human who wished to remain white beneath the blazing midday sun could not content himself with merely being born white. He had to be willing to scatter whiteness endlessly across the world, to shatter and scatter himself endlessly into white fragments.
“I have not yet forgotten the name of the illness I chose to suffer. I have not yet lost the warmth of the dream I chose to dream. Therefore, I have released no one, and I have lost no world. Let it be known: not the name of martial arts, but the name of my illness shall bear witness to my place, and not the achievement of inner power, but the warmth of my dream shall prove who I am.”
The sound of shattering snow.
“I am here in this place, and only as long as I remain here shall I truly be myself.”
With the sound of snow that melts yet falls anew.
“I am the Sovereign.”
My master intoned her declaration of war.
“The Sovereign requests the nine-hundred-and-ninetieth martial duel.”
Silence fell over all.
The once-clamorous Righteous Sects had grown still.
They were the martial world’s final confederation. They had come knowing this would be their last great duel.
How could they act rashly in such a moment?
If the final words chosen in life’s last moments are a will, then these righteous warriors wished to speak the will of the Righteous Sects.
And they turned their gaze toward one who would speak for them.
“Martial Alliance Lord. Of the Namgung Clan.”
An old man took the martial salute.
“Supreme Patriarch of the Namgung house. Namgung Un. Also known as Crescent Shadow.”
A thousand of the Demonic Path and a thousand of the righteous faced one another.
“Your Demon Cult made the cries of the common folk your doctrine. Cries became vengeance, and vengeance became blood calamity, staining the world crimson. Vengeance-starved demons! When heaven and earth themselves blush with blood, yet you still pose as the weak!”
The man who had risen to lead the martial world carved a boundary between the Demonic Path and the righteous with the force of his words alone.
“You cling endlessly to the Heavenly Demon’s robes while you weep. You beseech her on your behalf, asking for her to deliver you from sorrow. While your hands grasp at her sleeves, you declare yourselves the weak common folk, the suffering masses!”
The old lord’s voice shook like thunder.
“Thirst! You possess feet and hands as well—how long will you remain content with the spectral delusions of the past? The Flower Adornment Sutra teaches that even a single tree must shed its blossoms to bear fruit. What of you? You are but flower merchants of a garden that trades in your own pain!”
At that rebuke, the Demon Cult’s masses growled.
The cultists gripped their sword hilts. Poison rose. Killing intent bloomed. In response, the righteous warriors began to match their force.
Though neither side possessed inner power, the air of the Snowy Plain turned murderous.
“Good.”
My master’s lips curved upward.
“I take that to mean you accept the duel.”
“Indeed.”
“To the end, or to death?”
“To death.”
“So be it.”
The two warriors lowered their salutes.
Whissssh!
In that same instant, a thousand Demonic Path and a thousand righteous drew their blades. It was midday. Nearly two thousand sword-edges, drinking in the sun, blazed with brilliant light.
“Children of the Demonic Heaven!”
My master’s fist clenched.
“You may call today’s events nothing but a dream, nothing but illusion!”
“So be it!”
A thousand followers cried out in unison.
“You may call us a hollow dream!”
“So be it!”
“Then we shall live as dreams do, shall we not?”
“Yes, so be it!”
“Our hearts are candles!”
“And we shall set this place ablaze!”
“Demonic Path Supremacy!”
“Commoner Independence!”
My master threw back his head and laughed.
“Kill!”
War had begun.
A thousand followers charged like beasts, howling. There were no subtle movement techniques. No elaborate lightness skills. They came on like animals, tearing and biting like animals. This was their holy war, ordained by their doctrine.
“Righteous gentlemen! I am Crescent Shadow Demon Lord, first commander of the Demon Cult Corpse Shadow Squad! Receive my blade!”
Demon Cult Corpse Shadow Squad.
Squad Commander.
Crescent Shadow Demon Lord.
“I am Hyeon Gong, Master of Wudang Mountain! You are not unworthy of my hand!”
Wudang Sect.
Sect Master.
Hyeon Gong.
The two men called out their names and clashed. Their only courtesy lay in that exchange of titles. The fighting itself was raw savagery.
“Khyeee-yah!”
Crescent Shadow Demon Lord drove the hilt of his sword into Hyeon Gong’s face. Crack! Teeth. Blood. White fragments flew, red spray following.
“Uooooo!”
Hyeon Gong howled, baring broken teeth. Then he stiffened his fingertips and raked them toward Crescent Shadow Demon Lord’s eyes. A sickening pop—covered by “Hahahaha!” The Demon Lord’s laughter drowned it out. The Taoist’s shriek and the demon’s cackling tangled together, flowing like blood.
Another black-and-white figure moved to intercept them.
“First commander of the Sorcerers. Ghost Flame Demon. I will take your head.”
Demon Cult Consolation Spirit Squad.
Squad Commander.
Ghost Flame Demon.
“Namo Amitabha Buddha. I am Jomyeong.”
Shaolin Temple.
Abbot.
Jomyeong.
“Out of respect for the first commander, I shall grant you three free passes.”
“Remember that reverence for the Buddha, if you will!”
At Ghost Flame Demon’s words, Jomyeong rushed forward at once. He wrapped prayer beads around his fist and swung. But Ghost Flame Demon, who had promised three free passes, simply bent low and then shot upward, driving his headbutt into Jomyeong’s belly. A pained grunt escaped the monk, followed by a dry laugh.
“Three free passes, you said?”
“Did you believe me?”
“Did it seem so?”
“Yes.” A wet sound of dripping blood cut between them. “It seemed so.”
Ghost Flame Demon’s knee buckled. The nose that had launched that headbutt with such momentum was shattered. The moment the impact struck, Jomyeong had driven his knee upward in a perfect counter. With blood streaming across Ghost Flame Demon’s face, Jomyeong stroked his beard with satisfaction.
“My performance skills have not dulled.”
“You damnable stone monk…”
“Two more passes remain!”
Grabbing Ghost Flame Demon by both ears, Jomyeong drove his knee upward again—but Ghost Flame Demon twisted his own forehead down to meet it. Crack! The sound of skull meeting cartilage, and “Kugh!” Jomyeong hopped about, clutching his knee.
“Khahahaha! You beasts, you wretches! Without your inner power, you’re just guttersnipes! But this is my true strength! Excellent! The righteous fools’ shameless faces laid bare before heaven and earth—today is truly auspicious!”
Demon Cult Assassination Squad.
Squad Commander.
Sword Demon.
“…How vulgar. Quite vulgar indeed.”
Huashan Sect.
Elder.
Chaotic Flower Thousand Swords.
Two swordsmen crossed blades. The moment steel sang against steel, “Khagh!” “Ogh!” Both cried out in agony, clutching their hands. Neither could bear the shock that erupted from that collision.
Yet neither released his sword.
The Sword Demon bared his teeth and laughed.
“Cut… don’t get cocky and just let go, will you?”
Chaotic Flower Thousand Swords clenched his jaw and answered.
“That’s what I should be saying to you….”
Their eyes locked, and steel met steel once more. Clang! A stifled cry, clang! The sound of breath torn away, clang! Hands and shoulders trembling violently. Blood finally wept from both their torn palms. Blood from the corners of their bitten lips mingled with blood from their hands, streaming down together.
Yet still, neither of them released their blade.
White robes billowed. Black vestments shook. Sunlight poured down, shadows fell. Between the sun and shadow, Righteous Sect and Demon Cult collided.
Blood erupted.
“Demonic Path Supremacy! Commoner Independence!”
“Ahhhhh! Die! Die!”
“You Moyong scum, show yourselves now!”
A world drained of all color.
What flowed vividly there was not brilliant martial arts.
Only the red blood of men.
“Heh, haha… hahaha.”
From within it, a particularly red laughter erupted.
“Hahahaha! Ha! Ha, ahahaha!”
It was mad laughter itself.
“How many white-clad dogs you have!”
My master was crying out.
“Good. Come at me. Let us cross blades and see!”
A dark shadow danced among the Righteous Sect’s warriors. It seemed the sun rose and set at dozens times its normal speed. A woman who had endured three years of sickness without a shred of inner power, merely that and nothing more—yet her movements stood out sharply even among those warriors equally unable to channel their martial arts.
“How laughable!”
My master laughed.
“Abbot of Shaolin. Did you truly think such tricks could stop me? And you, High Priest of Wudang. Do you believe you can bear the karma of our Cult?”
Those were words familiar to me.
“Sorrow floods the heavens and drowns Songshan Mountain! Hatred burns the earth and sets Wudang Mountain ablaze! The Demon Cult is the sky of the martial world, and I am the sky of the Demon Cult! What right have you to speak of Heaven Beyond Heaven!”
But they were strange words to my master herself.
“You are not enough! Slaves of the white path!”
My master roared.
“Namgung Un!”
Through the crash of blade on blade, the collision of flesh on flesh, my master cried out.
“Where is Namgung Un!”
Laughing aloud, my master continued.
“Summon the patriarch of the Namgung Clan! Bring forth the Alliance Lord! Though the forest of the martial world grows thick and the sky stretches wide, there is but one soul in all heaven and earth who can receive my blade! Sama! Bring Namgung Un before me at once!”
Her laughter was red and intoxicating.
“Hmm.”
The old man took one step forward into an ever-reddening world.
“It reminds me of the first day of our grand confrontation.”
The Alliance Lord stood bare-chested. Winter was biting cold, and with no inner power, the chill should have pierced him—yet he had made it his armor instead. His lean, bone-dry muscles had hardened like stone.
“That day we could not finish it, so the grand duel extended to a second day. On the second day too we reached no conclusion, and it was postponed to a third. In the end, I had fastened the button wrongly from the start! Thinking of it now, I should have poured all my strength into it from the beginning.”
Sigh.
The Alliance Lord drew a deep breath.
He took his stance and beckoned with his hand.
“Come, Demon Lord. Today, Heaven’s fortune stands with me.”
Martial Alliance.
Alliance Lord.
Axe-Halberd Immortal.
“Heaven’s fortune, you say. Good.”
Crunch.
My master ground her heel into the earth.
“Your heaven’s fortune today shall be nothing but your death.”
Demon Cult.
Cult Master.
Heavenly Demon.
……
……
One breath.
The two of them glared at each other through their eyes.
Half a breath.
The two drew closer with each step.
Their breaths met and tangled.
They collided with a gesture of their hands.
“…….”
White.
Snow scattered in wild patterns.
“……!”
Black.
Hair streamed through the air.
Red.
Blood sprayed forth.
S-Rank Hunter Who Must Die to Live (Serialized)
Author │ Shin Noah
Publisher │ Kim Joo-hyung
Published by │ J Plus Media Co., Ltd.
Marketing │ Han Jae-hyuk
Address │ Suite 204, 288 Digital-ro, Guro-gu, Seoul (Guro-dong, Daekyung Post Tower 1st)
Email │ [email protected]
Website │ www.jayplemedia.com
ⓒ Shin Noah 2019
※This work is published by J Plus Media Co., Ltd. under contract with the copyright holder. The contents may not be used in any form or by any means without permission from the publisher and author.
Violation of this prohibition may result in criminal and civil legal liability.

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