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chapter 78
The place where the Sword Spirit appeared was the Hongru Yasullu, an establishment conducting business within the Martial Alliance.
The Sword Spirit stood in front of Yasullu, and before him stood about a dozen men.
When they saw the Sword Spirit, they flinched slightly. It felt as though he had been waiting precisely for them.
“How did you manage to come in?”
The Sword Spirit asked.
These were the demonic beings that Mu-yeong had brought in.
Even though they had surpassed the level of “Skilled Demon” (Neungma) and entered the stage of “Advanced Demon” (Choma), they could not change their inherent nature.
For now, they were trying their best to restrain their energy, but traces of demonic energy—magi—were still leaking out.
If they had entered through the main gate, the experts guarding the outer court of the Martial Alliance would certainly have discovered them.
“What are you talking about?”
Those who had reached the stage beyond Neungma were capable of thought, so they did not blindly crave blood or slaughter.
However, since they could not perfectly control their emotions, whenever anger arose even slightly, the influence of demonic arts caused killing intent to surge—and in such moments, they had to seek blood and slaughter.
The man in front responded to the Sword Spirit.
“If you’ve managed to get in here, then surely it means there are spies within the Martial Alliance—those who conspire with you or plot alongside you.”
As if speaking with certainty, he declared this, and the others glanced at one another before nodding.
“We know nothing of that.”
At the same moment the words ended, the man in front hurled himself toward the Sword Spirit. His right hand was dyed red.
It happened in an instant.
He reached the Sword Spirit and, raising his fingers like blades, aimed straight for his heart.
The nine men watching thought he would soon tear out the Sword Spirit’s heart and devour it.
“Guh—!”
With a short groan, the man collapsed before the Sword Spirit.
He looked at the Sword Spirit with disbelief in his eyes, but soon his head began to droop.
The “Blood Claw Technique” (Hyeollajo) he had unleashed toward the Sword Spirit’s heart was slower than the gust of force shot from the Sword Spirit’s forefinger.
Because the man’s body blocked the view, the others could not see what had happened.
The Sword Spirit lightly nudged the bowed man with his foot—he fell sideways. Then, searching his robe, he pulled out a book.
“So it was the demonic art Blood Claw Technique.”
The Sword Spirit skimmed through the manual roughly, then burned it in his palm. After that, he turned his gaze toward the remaining nine men.
His eyes said: Show me what kind of demonic arts you’ve practiced.
The nine exchanged glances again. They were men who had entered the Choma stage.
Though not yet in full mastery, by the Martial World’s standards they were beyond first-rate experts—warriors who had already stepped into the realm of Transcendence (Jeoljeong).
Yet they had just seen a young man before them defeat one of their number in an instant. Naturally, they became wary.
After a silent exchange of looks, they began to move.
“Kid, whatever you’ve found out, you shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know how Son Cheong was killed, but you’ll meet death here as well.”
“Your warm heart—I’ll enjoy devouring it.”
They moved simultaneously.
The atmosphere changed drastically when their demonic nature was revealed.
Magi flowed outward, affecting the surroundings.
If the Sword Spirit had been weaker than they, or merely equal in martial attainment, he might have suffered greatly from the overwhelming magi.
As the demons moved, the Sword Spirit also moved.
Though they moved first, his counter-attack was faster.
The one attacking with an open palm aimed at the Sword Spirit’s heart. The Sword Spirit extended his hand, seized the man’s fingers, and bent them backward.
Crunch!
The sound of bones breaking was followed by the man’s face twisting in pain.
With his other hand, the Sword Spirit struck the man’s jaw upward from below.
“Guh!”
As the man’s body lifted into the air, the Sword Spirit spun and delivered a back-kick straight into his abdomen.
Unable to withstand the impact, the man flew backward through the air and smashed into the building wall.
“Cough!”
Vomiting a mouthful of blood from the shock, his head soon drooped lifelessly.
The Sword Spirit had no time to watch—another attacker was already coming.
At some point, the man had drawn a sword and was bringing it down toward the Sword Spirit’s crown.
The Sword Spirit raised his left arm to meet the descending sword.
Seeing him lift a hand against a blade, the attacker smirked faintly.
Clang!
He had believed without a doubt that the strike would cut off the Sword Spirit’s wrist in one blow—but that belief shattered.
On the Sword Spirit’s left forearm was bound the sword once wielded by Ghost Demon Emperor Gu-yeongcheol.
The Sword Spirit clenched his fist and drove it powerfully into the attacker’s abdomen.
“Guh!”
The man’s back arched like a shrimp. The Sword Spirit immediately followed up, using both hands to strike the sides of his neck simultaneously.
Crunch!
His neck bones snapped; he died instantly and fell forward.
Pahhh!
While exchanging blows with the other demons, the Sword Spirit roughly discerned what kinds of martial arts they practiced.
“Guh!”
Because demonic arts were incomplete, they inevitably contained flaws. The lower the practitioner’s level, the easier those flaws were to find.
Since these men had reached a certain stage, it took him a little time to locate those weak points.
“If I drag this out, it’ll get noisy.”
The Sword Spirit took a step forward.
“Huuh!”
One demon gasped, startled.
“Guh!”
Before he knew it, the Sword Spirit was in front of him—using the forefinger and middle finger of both hands to press his vital point.
The man’s eyes widened as his expression contorted in pain.
As if blood had stopped flowing to his brain, his face reddened, and his body began to swell.
Pop!
Like a bursting water drop, his swollen body exploded, scattering blood and flesh in every direction.
Sizzle!
From the flesh and blood that fell to the ground rose a smoky, acrid smell—as if burning. It was poison.
Before long, the Sword Spirit appeared before another and attacked their flaws, dealing with them one by one.
His movement was Chukji—the supreme level of light-foot technique that surpassed all known arts like Deungpyeongdosu, Chosangbi, Neunggongheodo, and Cheonsangje.
When he struck their vital points using Chukji, his form looked as though he were using Ihyeonghwanwi—changing shapes and positions instantaneously.
The ten demons had come to kill the Sword Spirit—but instead, without even managing to exert proper strength, they were all slain.
Some left behind corpses; others didn’t even have remains.
Although their martial level surpassed first-rate and had stepped into Transcendence, to the Sword Spirit, who had attained the state of Spirit Unification, they were no different from third-rate warriors.
The Sword Spirit approached the fallen. He intended to dispose of their bodies.
Searching their robes, he found each carried a book.
They were demonic manuals.
The Sword Spirit looked through them briefly, then turned his gaze toward a certain direction.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, he placed the manuals back into their owners’ robes—and vanished from the spot.
Before long, several people arrived. They were women, apparently those who worked at Hongru.
“Kyaaah!”
Though they lived within the Martial Alliance, these women were not truly martial artists.
It was perhaps natural that they screamed upon seeing the gruesome scene.
“Sister…”
“Go, and call the head madam.”
“Yes, I understand.”
