The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 85

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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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Episode 85

Ha Gwang-il, the Blood Fiend, stumbled backward, his entire body streaming blood. His eyes were wide with shock.

“Me—me, losing to some young upstart like this, and not even to Baek Gun-seo?”

An old memory stained with humiliation and despair.
He’d once swaggered across South Korea as if he owned the place, until Baek Gun-seo defeated him and drove him away. For twenty years since, Ha Gwang-il had honed his blade, waiting only for the day of revenge.
But two decades had taught him a bitter lesson: he would never become a superhuman.
Past sixty now, his body in steep decline, he’d finally accepted that direct revenge on Baek Gun-seo was impossible. He’d returned to Korea while there was still time.
If he couldn’t claim vengeance himself, he would at least destroy what mattered to his enemy. His target was everything Baek Gun-seo held dear.
And for Baek Gun-seo, nothing was more precious than life itself except the Sungsung Group.
He’d come today to capture Jung Da-hyun, the disciple Baek Gun-seo cherished. The prodigy who’d followed an elite path, hailed as a genius—he’d thought capturing her would be simple work. He’d been wrong.
Jung Da-hyun’s blade was fast and dazzling.
But what truly shocked Ha Gwang-il was the relentless way she exploited every opening.
To do so, she didn’t hesitate to take wounds herself.
Even villains wielding brutal swordplay weren’t like this.
They at least valued their own lives—but Jung Da-hyun displayed a killing intent that said: *I will make you die, even if I bleed for it.*
This was supposed to be a Government Hunter, not a villain?

“This can’t be right. It can’t be!”

Decades of accumulated real-world combat experience were becoming meaningless. Dazzling brilliance laced with lethal intent, sharpened by relentless pressure—every sword path became unpredictable.
Before such radiant talent, his aged and withered self seemed infinitely pathetic.
But what truly infuriated him was this:

“Fake Blood Fiend—where did the real one go?”
“Grraaahhh!”

She wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence as the Blood Fiend. From start to finish, she’d treated him as an impostor, a false claimant to the moniker.
For Ha Gwang-il, who’d held infinite pride in his name, it was unbearable shame.

“Die! Die! Just die already!”

Ha Gwang-il stopped holding back, unleashing all his remaining Force. His body groaned under the strain. His speed increased, his variations multiplied—but Jung Da-hyun didn’t blink. She deflected every single strike.
She was blocking every blow, each one wrapped in murderous intent?
Did this creature not know fear?
Watching her track and counter every variation with her eyes, Ha Gwang-il felt his spine turn to ice.
What devastating talent was this?
Before it, he was nothing but dust.

“If you’re going to impersonate someone, at least pick a different person.”

With his very existence denied, Ha Gwang-il’s eyes flipped white with rage.

“I’m taking you with me!”

Those were Ha Gwang-il’s last words.
Jung Da-hyun’s blade thrust forward like a flash of lightning, cleaving his neck clean through. Even as death took him, his mind refused to accept it—his head rolled across the ground, eyes still wide open in denial.

“Since he was a fake, I let him live this long.”

Jung Da-hyun remained motionless, staring down at the dead man’s eyes, her expression grave.

“Something’s off.”

So it’s real, not fake?
But it was far too weak for something like that.
Eom Gyeong-yeong, the team lead, is called an encyclopedia when it comes to Villains. There’s no way he wouldn’t recognize Ha Gwang-il, the Blood Calamity, even with the passage of time.
Then what had she actually defeated?
Could a Level 6 really suppress a Level 7 this easily?

“I have no idea.”

Judging by Ha Gwang-il’s reaction, it might actually be real.
She’d called him fake the whole time to provoke him, and it worked better than expected.
If anything, the Villain seemed to fall for the provocation more easily than she’d anticipated.

“Should I learn how to curse?”

Speaking harshly might shake his mental state even more.
The moniker she’d earned—Yaksha Woman—didn’t bother her anymore.
It was proof that she’d killed so many Villains and worked to keep citizens safe.
It was just as Jung Da-hyun turned her attention back to the Villains, having put her thoughts aside.

“Aaaah! P-please, save us!”
“I surrender!”
“Please, just spare our lives! Yaksha Woman!”

The Villains, faces drained of all color, raised their hands and begged.

* * *

“Thank you. You planned all of this, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, well.”

When Jung Da-hyun thanked him, he felt oddly confused.
In this operation, they’d captured Ha Gwang-il, the Blood Calamity, who’d earned notoriety over many years.
The Blood Calamity was a famous Level 7 Villain.
He was one of the worst Villains of the previous generation, represented by Berserker, the Puppet Master, the Executioner, and the Black Reaper.
Jung Da-hyun had caught one of these major figures. News of her exploit had already spread, creating quite a stir.
The emergence of a Level 7 in her mid-twenties. At this pace, she’d become a Superhuman within a decade, and the K-Awakener Development System was already being promoted.
But why were they including him in all of this?

“Did you have any trouble?”
“No, it was actually so easy that I thought my opponent was Level 6. Since I’ve learned from you, I’m confident I can beat any Level 6 opponent.”

She certainly knew how to speak prettily.
He could sense the sincerity and faith beneath her words.
He was glad there’d been results.
Until now, he’d thought his methods of training were flawed.
But she’d already reached Level 7? It was the moment he realized his standards differed from others. It seemed people generally applied more lenient standards when assessing Levels.
Jung Da-hyun probably thought he was deliberately concealing his true strength, but there was no need to clear up that misunderstanding.

“Good work.”
“Yes. I’ll stay alert and keep working hard.”
“Good.”

Jung Da-hyun was pleased that she could now catch more named Villains going forward.
Her attitude of not settling for the present, constantly striving to improve—it was admirable.
He’d also managed to preserve his sanity because he never yielded to the Blood Species’ madness until the end.
Seeing this, it seemed he had considerable talent for teaching.
He should push Yun-hee harder without hesitation.

* * *

Research into the newly classified Plus Plus Monsters proceeded smoothly.
The question was straightforward: if an existing Plus-tier Monster wielded Force more skillfully and deployed its Gifts freely, how formidable would it become?
The answer was catastrophic.
Plus Plus Monsters—or two-horned Monsters, as they came to be called—existed at the level of Superhuman when measured against humans. Just as the gap between Level 7 and Superhuman was vast, so too the chasm between Hazard Level 8 and two-horned Monsters proved staggering.
The experts running simulations insisted forcefully that such creatures must be prevented from ever appearing.
Yet even with Awakened One forces growing stronger, they could neither push back the regions where Monsters dwelt nor locate two-horned Monsters whose very existence remained murky.
Neither had humanity built up military strength sufficient to collapse the Monster ecosystem entirely.

“Going in circles, we always end up at the same conclusion—we need to develop stronger Awakened Ones.”
“That’s obvious enough.”
“But it gives us justification to invest more in that direction. Training Awakened Ones ultimately comes down to money.”
“Everything is money. Money’s convenient.”

No matter where you go, it all circles back to money. Dress it up however you like, but dig deep enough and it’s always money.
For me, money is a means. For others, it becomes the very purpose of existence.
People should simply take what they can afford, yet some reach beyond their station, stealing until they invite death upon themselves.

“Yes, money can accomplish much. Though there are rare exceptions.”

Lee Se-hee gazed at me with an understated intensity.

“Like what?”
“I’ll tell you later.”

Lee Se-hee smiled faintly, her appearance markedly different from usual. Her makeup was subtle, her outfit a black training suit with a white Light Armor overlay.
Today was the day I’d agreed to oversee her training.
When Jung Da-hyun reached Level 7, the competitive fire had ignited in Lee Se-hee—she’d made that clear to me.
Her competitive spirit showed more directly than Jung Da-hyun’s did.

“Once Plus Plus Monsters become reality, young talents like Da-hyun will become even more valuable. It stings especially since she came from our Guild.”
“Da-hyun is certainly exceptional.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just become that way too. You’ll make it happen for me, won’t you?”
“I’m not the one making anything. You’re the one doing the work.”
“I don’t mind. I’ve never met anyone more ambitious than I am. Probably.”

Lee Se-hee, born into a chaebol royal family, would now show how she approached training.
If dissatisfied, she’d simply abandon it without hesitation.
I hoped her mental fortitude would match her appetite for success.

“You’re about to meet someone tougher than you’ve ever seen.”

Lee Se-hee’s eyes gleamed as she spoke.

* * *

With a rush of wind, the Wooden Sword carved through the air. Despite being wood, its force was formidable beyond measure.
Its speed and trajectory shifted so fluidly that any lapse in attention meant an opening—a blow would inevitably follow.

“Haaah!”

Lee Se-hee gasped for breath. Sweat poured down her entire body as if rain were falling, yet Choi Jun-ho’s Wooden Sword showed no sign of stopping.
She rolled across the ground to evade it, her sweat-soaked body caked with dirt and dust—but there was no time to care. The instant her attention wavered, a fresh barrage of strikes rained down.
It felt as though the sword were magnetized, drawn inexorably toward her no matter which way she moved.

‘This is relentless. Absolutely relentless!’

Did she hate it?
Not at all.

‘I love it!’

Choi Jun-ho’s hand showed no mercy whatsoever. At the slightest lapse in concentration, the slightest misjudgment, the wooden sword came crashing down.
Each time, Lee Se-hee had to wring every last shred of energy from her body, sharpening her senses to a razor’s edge. Though exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, she noticed that the keener her focus became, the sharper her mind grew.
But that was only the beginning. Choi Jun-ho didn’t even allow adaptation. The moment he sensed her adjusting, he would uncannily shift up a gear.
Lee Se-hee would think she’d reached her limit, take a blow from his sword, and discover she still had reserves to draw from—a cycle he orchestrated with brutal precision.

Thwack!

“Ugh!”

The moment she thought she’d evaded the last strike, the wooden sword slammed into her shoulder.
Through the searing pain that threatened to shatter her shoulder, Lee Se-hee bent at the waist. She felt the sharp blade wind and the whistle of the sword pass inches from her neck.
Before she could catch her breath, another thrust came at her belly, forcing her to roll backward to escape it.
An assault that wrung body, mind, and Force in equal measure. At first she hadn’t noticed, but as she’d tumbled and scrambled beneath his relentless strikes, Lee Se-hee realized she was distributing her Force to places she’d never engaged before. In her desperation to avoid hits, her body was learning of its own accord.
Opening all her senses and directing her Force precisely where she willed it. This was a sensation Lee Se-hee had never experienced in her entire life.
It was as though she’d become a third party observing her own body. As if reborn and viewing her existence objectively, she could suddenly perceive where she was insufficient, where she was overextended.

‘This… this is it.’

Her body trembled with exhilaration as the realization struck her. Choi Jun-ho wasn’t simply flailing about. By forcing her to expend every ounce of her remaining strength, he was driving her to transcend her own limits.
For the first time, despite all her sword practice, all her Force expenditure, she could feel herself advancing, evolving.
It hadn’t been lack of effort—it had been the wrong method.
Choi Jun-ho’s pure, undiluted intent to annihilate his opponent compelled her to mobilize everything necessary for survival.
Survival favored those who adapted, and adaptation meant evolution. Realizing latent potential still dwelt within her, she kindled a fierce competitive fire—the desire to chase after Jung Da-hyun.
Since childhood, the two had been equals in age, evenly matched in beauty and talent, each taking turns leading and falling behind. But this time her rival had definitively pulled ahead.
And she was selfishly hoarding the secret to that advantage.
What Lee Se-hee valued most was that he wielded his hand without mercy—not treating her as the Sungsung Group chairman’s daughter or as the Sungsung Guild’s executive team leader, but as Lee Se-hee alone, a person who had to muster every shred of strength just to endure.
Only as an individual named Lee Se-hee, wringing out all her power to hold her ground.

“Good…”

She’d wanted this for so long.
She wanted him to push her harder. She wanted him to be even more ruthless.
Savoring the liberation of shrugging off the weight that had burdened her, she fixed her gaze on his sword.
But body and Force have their limits. In a single moment when her concentration wavered, Choi Jun-ho’s wooden sword inevitably found her again.

“Argh!”

She cried out and tumbled across the floor. He didn’t even grant her time to recover before pressing his advantage.
Choi Jun-ho didn’t so much as blink at her scream before bringing his sword down again. If she hadn’t rolled to the side at the last instant, the blow would have crushed her abdomen.
In his strikes stripped of all emotion, there was no distinction between honor and treachery.
Lee Se-hee barely created distance between them and staggered as she tried to rise.

“Done?”
“No!”

She planted her feet, forcing strength into her legs. Her eyes burned with eerie intensity, yet her body shook like a leaf. Where her training clothes had torn, vivid bruises bloomed across her skin.

“Again!”

With each new bruise, Lee Se-hee’s expression grew brighter.

* * *

Teaching Lee Se-hee for the first time left Choi Jun-ho shocked and unsettled.
He’d deliberately raised the intensity, but this expression of rapture was unexpected. Surely she wasn’t the type to actually enjoy pain?
With Berserker included in the mix, it seemed there wasn’t a single normal person around him.
Even Jung Ju-ho and Cheon Myung-guk, who seemed relatively normal, became temperamental wrecks depending on their mood.
Maintaining sanity alone among the abnormal was proving to be harder than he’d thought.

“It’s taking longer than I thought.”

I’m currently out in Andong, North Gyeongsang Province.
Ever since the possibility of a Two-Horned stage monster appearing was raised, the government distributed alerts and manuals to nations worldwide.
Then a massive Force surge was detected, and after determining it as a potential sign of a Hazard Level 8 monster, the President personally requested my assistance, which is how I ended up here.
If a new one emerges, the monster will be named “Garam.”
It’s actually a charming name.
While it’s good that I don’t fear the monster because of the name, I worry it might make me too casual about it.
I entered the monster’s habitat and explored the area thoroughly. The signs I initially detected gradually grew faint, and then, at some point, vanished without a trace.
It could have been a faulty observation, or the monster may have relocated.

“Should I venture deeper?”

I was weighing my options when—

Screech?

At the low cry, I turned to see a winged lizard with a dull greenish body staring at me.
An Earth Dragon.
A Hazard Level 8 monster that’s appeared before in China. It can’t actually fly, but it possesses tough skin, exceptional regenerative ability, and commands a powerful Earthquake technique.
But the one I was looking at was only about three meters long.
An Earth Dragon Hatchling.
I could sense power equivalent to roughly Hazard Level 5.

“Was this the culprit?”

The creature eyed me with that reptilian gaze and bared its teeth in a threat display.
Youth lacks discernment, whether among humans or monsters.
Without hesitation, I unleashed Blade Storm at it.

Screeech!

Despite being merely a hatchling, its hide was remarkably tough—the skin didn’t tear completely. Cuts appeared across its body, green blood streaming down.
It shrieked and thrashed about.
I could have killed it on the spot if I’d wanted to, but I held back.

“Go on. Get out of here.”

I was planning to let the hatchling go.
Not because I’ve become some monster-conservation advocate or anything like that.
A wounded juvenile might draw the attention of its full-grown parents, and they’d come charging in this direction.

“Time to summon Mom and Dad, wouldn’t you say?”

Screech!

But instead of fleeing, it bared its chest and charged straight at me.
Why are there so many—human and monster alike—who can’t gauge their own position?
I sidestepped its headlong charge and drove a Mine-enhanced kick into its skull.
If it won’t listen, it needs a proper education.
But I misjudged the force.
Its head spun from the impact—and kept spinning, rotating a full 360 degrees before settling back to its original position.

“Huh?”

Its tongue lolled out and it began to tremble before going completely limp.
It was dead.
Well, about that whole summoning Mom and Dad thing… can I bring it back? Doesn’t look promising. I miscalculated.

“What’s this, so weak?”

I was smacking my lips in disappointment over the failure when it happened.
As if to prove that my worry was groundless, a fierce aura suddenly washed over the surroundings.
Protected by Immunity to All Poisons, I felt nothing.
This aura belonged to a Hazard Level 8 Monster.
If my guess was right, it had to be an adult Earth Dragon.
I cast Blade Storm on the hatchling’s corpse. The flesh tore in places, blood streaming down. The scent of blood was meant to summon it.

“So the parent did come.”

Moments later, the adult Earth Dragon revealed itself.
It fixed its gaze on the bleeding young one slumped on the ground, so I kicked the corpse toward it.

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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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