He’s used to war. Of course, he’s used to fighting with his life on the line.
That faith in himself wasn’t strange. It wasn’t exactly wrong.
It was an era of peace. For nearly a hundred years since the war with the Demonic Cult, the martial world had simply been peaceful.
Only in the Southern lands, and within it the southernmost edge of the Southern lands where the Ten Thousand People Clan once roamed, was engulfed in flames of war. So there were few in the current Zhanjiang who had seen as many battles and as much blood as they had.
In that sense, the certainty they held had clear grounds.
But they had missed only one thing.
The wars they had known and the wars Chung Myung had known were of an entirely different order.
Unable to grasp that fact, they could never comprehend the existence of Mount Hua’s Sword Saint.
“Huh...”
Ragged screams kept tearing through the air.
Someone screamed hoarsely, barely audible, but the meaning needed no hearing.
Get away.
Run at once from this spot, turn your back on that beast attacking you, and run with every last ounce of strength.
But Jo Nam-Cheon, the gate disciple of Snake Form Clan, could not move a single step. It’s not that he wouldn’t move. He could not.
His head desperately ordered his legs to turn and run, but his feet clung to the ground as if glued.
A mouse frozen by the sight of a snake is a common thing. Jo Nam-Cheon’s body, faced with a predator he’d never met before, refused his orders and froze where it stood.
The difference was that a snake would leisurely swallow the frozen mouse, whereas this demon stared at him ravenously. That was the difference.
Aaaaargh!
Slash!
A blood-soaked sword severed Jo Nam-Cheon’s neck in an instant. With no time to wait for the body to fall, Chung Myung stamped down on his chest, vaulted over the spurting neck, and surged forward.
Like a tiger stalking prey. No, like a snake darting swiftly through the brush.
He was drenched in the blood of countless members of the Evil Sect, looking almost blood-drunk. Amid the hot red, only his black eyes radiated a chilling coldness, so cold it made onlookers’ hearts stop.
“S-stop him!”
“Run!”
“Ah... no!”
Unordered, chaotic reactions erupted everywhere. It was pure chaos.
It was a natural reaction.
The Heaven and Ground Covered Net. The name sounds grand, but it simply means a dense encirclement net spread over a wide area.
It’s a basic tactic used to herd fleeing few into many hands, or to utterly slaughter those who resist with screams.
Members of the Evil Sect in Southern lands had seen Heaven and Ground Covered Net deployed many times, and every time their experience was much the same.
They would either hide and flee or watch calmly as those who stood and resisted fought to the end, then mock the fool who dared oppose the Ten Thousand People Clan. That was enough.
Those who had assumed it would be no different this time were suddenly seized by a fundamental question.
“Why!”
Someone shouted in a panic.
“Th-that bastard, why is he here! Whyyyy!”
Kwang!
At that moment someone’s torso was ripped apart and flung back. Blood spurted like a fountain and flesh fragments scattered. Those drenched in it, terrified, shared the same question the dying man had shouted.
Mount Hua’s Sword Saint. The one who annihilated the Ten Thousand People Clan’s elite troops and turned the clan’s military force that once targeted Mount Hua into lingering spirits. Moreover, he’s said to have clashed head-on with the Ten Thousand People Clan’s lord, Jang Ilso, on the Yangtze and fought a fierce, even battle.
A world-recognized nemesis of the Ten Thousand People Clan and Mount Hua’s rising master who stands opposite that Jang Ilso.
Some things change definition with perspective. Chung Myung, his name is a symbol of heroism to the Justice faction, but to the Evil Sect it is a spine-chilling terror.
But why has he, the one who should be facing Jang Ilso on the Yangtze, suddenly appeared here, swinging his sword?
Why should those here have to face Mount Hua’s Sword Saint?
“R-run away!”
“Aaaaaaaaah!”
This was no situation to talk about fighting spirit.
Imagine thinking you had surrounded a fox den, and suddenly a tiger the size of a house bursts out. Even the most seasoned hunter would be stunned.
These men weren’t seasoned hunters, and Chung Myung was a beast too ferocious even to be compared to a tiger. Who would dare stand in front of him?
“Aaaaaaaaah!”
Collapse was inevitable.
The amateurs, not true hunters, turned their backs and ran from the charging beast.
It seemed wise at first glance, but they didn’t know why hunters never turn their backs on beasts; it isn’t bravery.
People might abandon someone who turns their back, but beasts always bite the back of their prey to death. Leaving a foe alive who might hunt you later isn’t survival in the wild.
Chung Myung had forged himself in the hell of battle. His mindset was little different from a wild animal’s.
He might preach the Way with his mouth and speak of chivalry and mercy with his head, but his sword bit the backs of those who turned away sharper than any beast’s fang.
Crunch!
The blade pierced diagonally through a shoulder blade and buried itself in the heart. Before the victim could truly feel the pain, the twisted sword tore the insides apart, then surged upward, shredding the shoulder.
“Guh...”
Bang!
As if even the time to burn was too precious, Chung Myung shoulder-butted the falling body away and, with the terrifying glare of a predator, surged forward and forward.
He could not be stopped. It was impossible from the start.
The title once used to describe Chung Myung as the world’s finest rear guard had become a dead word.
Even if everyone here united tightly against him, they couldn’t be sure they could stop Chung Myung’s sword. The gap between absolute warriors vying for world supremacy and the small sects of Southern land’s southern edge was at least that wide.
Yet this encirclement had never been designed to stop someone like Chung Myung.
A scattered deployment meant to never lose the trail of those fleeing could never bind Chung Myung’s feet.
And Chung Myung targeted that exact point.
Whether understood by mind or grasped by instinct, Chung Myung’s assault was enough to tear this crude net apart in an instant.
It was as if he split the web with his sword and then pried the opening wide with claws and teeth.
“Eeeek!”
As Chung Myung closed in, one warrior covered his head and sank to the ground. At that moment all he could hope for was to die without pain.
But even after tightly shutting his eyes for a moment, he felt no pain. When he opened them slightly, he saw Chung Myung had already passed him and was streaking ahead, dispersing sword qi.
“I-I’m alive...”
Infinite relief flooded his chest. But then—
Srrk.
A sound like a swallow skimming the grass prickled his ear. Turning on instinct, he saw a woman had already reached within arm’s length.
Her pale face showed no emotion, no expression.
Moreover, her gaze was endlessly calm, unsuited to a battlefield.
‘Who...’
At that moment he noticed the Plum Blossom emblem embroidered on the uniform and the sword in the hand. Blood dripped from its tip. He knew his fate at once.
Sarak.
A faint tearing sound fluttered like silk in the air.
Simultaneously, a searing pain spread through the man’s neck.
“Ugh...”
The indifferent-looking woman didn’t even glance at him and passed by like the wind, racing onward.
His body slowly collapsed. Then a group in blue uniforms the color of the sea charged violently into the spot.
“Charge!”
From the blue ranks Baek Cheon’s shout burst forth like thunder.
When Chung Myung pierced through without hesitation, the Five Swords would tear the wound open, and Southern Island Sect would rush into the gap.
It was too brutal and crude to call ‘protection,’ but no one could deny how efficient it was.
“S-stop him!”
Those stunned by the terror Chung Myung left behind only snapped back to their senses when they saw the Southern Island Sect’s force.
But before they could move properly, spear-like sword qi shot forth.
Swaaaang!
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
With a single sword stroke, five throats were pierced and they died instantly.
“Urraaah!”
A swift blade that split the light itself—Swift Sword.
A ruthlessly practical sword that wasted nothing and struck only vital points, more Evil Sect than Evil Sect itself. It had become Jo Gul’s signature lethal blade.
Jo Gul, who had turned five into wandering spirits in an instant, charged forward with that same force.
Flash!
Following close behind, Yoon Jong filled Jo Gul’s exposed flank in a heartbeat, ready to deal with any surviving foe trying to strike from the side.
Both men’s bodies had long since been stained with blood.
“Yoon Jong. Leave the hang-up and help the rear! From now on they’ll aim for our backs!”
“Yes, sasuk!”
“Yu Yiseol, shift your position to the rear! He’s too fast!”
“Yes.”
Yu Yiseol, hearing the order, slightly eased the pace she’d been running at.
“Keep running!”
Under Baek Cheon’s swift command they reformed the scattered ranks and increased their speed.
Even now Gwak Hwan-So was desperately, literally with his last strength, keeping up with Chung Myung. Baek Cheon confirmed this and nodded decisively.
“Break through them all as is. Smash them to pieces!”
“Yes!”
Southern Island Sect’s disciples hadn’t even realized it.
Maybe because they were running without a single thought, they found themselves shouting back at Baek Cheon’s voice with all their ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) might.
The wedge formed by the tip Chung Myung and the center Baek Cheon drove through the Southern lands like a spike driven into the core.
