The sword I thrust pierced through Dan Muk-sang’s gaunt chest. I could feel the sensation of crushing a heart through the blade’s tip.
Kwoong!
The axe that had been relentlessly hacking at fell to the ground. The demonic energy that had been gnawing at the surroundings had long since dissipated.
Dan Muk-sang, who had been blankly staring at the sword protruding from his chest, grabbed it with his battered hands.
His hands were so deeply cut that the bones were exposed, and one of his fingers had been severed and lost sowhere, adding yet another wound to his already ruined hands.
Gguuk.
The sharp blade dug into his palm. Despite having his dantian shattered and his heart crushed, the strength in his grip was astonishing, almost incomprehensible.
However, the harder he squeezed, the deeper his wounds grew, and yet he couldn’t muster enough strength to pull the sword out.
“Kuhugh!”
In the end, he vomited blood and collapsed limply. The hand that had clung to the sword slipped off.
Blood dripped steadily. Dan Muk-sang, who barely managed to lift his head, glared at with his bloodshot eyes.
Even though his body had collapsed, his willpower remained unbroken.
“You... you damned brat. I should have killed you… I should have done it back then… But it’s not too late even now. Kill yourself quickly.”
“This feels a bit unfair. If you think about it, I have a grudge against you, not the other way around. But I suppose now you do.”
“That’s not what I… Kugh!”
Dan Muk-sang coughed up blood once again, his complexion growing even paler as he spoke.
“You… you have talent in martial arts. What I an is… you’re gifted at killing people.”
“Thanks for the complint.”
“Looking at the bloodlust ingrained in your body, you must’ve killed many already.”
That was true. Even though ti had rewound and events had been undone, my mories of them hadn’t vanished.
I killed to survive. I killed to avenge the dead. And in the end, I even rushed toward the Heavenly Demon, fully aware I couldn’t win. I had essentially killed myself.
The life of a martial artist is a perilous dance on the edge of a blade until the mont they fall. But even by those standards, my life had been extre.
After all, I experienced the war against the Demonic Cult—a war that hasn’t even occurred in this tiline.
I am certain I have witnessed more deaths and killed more people than anyone else in this era.
Dan Muk-sang’s eyes, gradually losing focus, continued to fix on .
“I know what you’re trying to say. At your age, to be this broken—it’s obvious.”
“Broken, you say.”
“You exude bloodlust as if it’s nothing. You cut down people without hesitation. If that’s not broken, then what is? Did you cut them down because you didn’t want to die? Because they were your enemies? Or was it for your own glory?”
As he said this, Dan Muk-sang’s trembling lips curled into a faint, twisted smile. His voice carried undeniable contempt.
“Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. In the end, you’re just another butcher who draws his sword at the slightest provocation. No different from . Kuhugh!”
“Don’t tell you’re trying to say you’re any different?”
“Haha. Of course not. All martial artists and martial arts should disappear. Myself included.”
“Dan Muk-sang. I know your story.”
The current Dan Muk-sang had only just begun to make a na for himself as a demonic martial artist. But before my regression, he had been one of the top masters of the Demonic Cult.
He was both powerful and infamous, with his deeds widely known.
It was said he lost his wife to the Green Forest Bandits, and when he sought help from the Hwangbo Clan, their young master violated and killed his daughter.
At this point in ti, the Hwangbo Clan had covered it up, but before my regression, Dan Muk-sang revealed the truth, leading the destruction of both the Green Forest and the Hwangbo Clan. His vengeance beca a tale known to all.
In a way, his revenge was justified. His hatred of all martial artists, regardless of affiliation, was sowhat understandable.
“But so what?”
“What…?”
Was it because I knew of his past? Or because I had denied his convictions so directly? Perhaps it was just a fleeting burst of life before his death.
Dan Muk-sang’s dim, unfocused eyes suddenly lit up. His pupils sharpened, glaring at with a fiery intensity.
“To my eyes, you, , and every martial artist gathered here are all the sa. Fools swinging swords blindly, consud by grudges.”
“I am! I am different! I mastered martial arts to break the chain of vengeance!”
“No. All you did was broaden your target for revenge to the entire martial world. If you truly wanted to break the chain of vengeance, you should’ve started by letting go of your own.”
“Ridiculous! Who in this world would willingly abandon the power they hold in their hands? I had no choice…”
“So you had no choice but to kill every martial artist? How is that any different from drawing your sword at the slightest provocation?”
“...!”
Dan Muk-sang gritted his teeth, glaring at . However, his gaze lacked the strength it had before.
“Didn’t I just tell you? There might’ve been another way. But since we can’t think of it, people like us just draw our swords first.”
“I… I…”
“In the end, you see nothing but the sword. You’re practically blind. Perhaps that’s why you beca a martial artist in the first place.”
I smirked as I looked into Dan Muk-sang’s eyes, where stubbornness had hardened into delusion.
“But there is one difference between us.”
Perhaps sensing his impending death, Dan Muk-sang chose to spend his remaining strength listening rather than speaking. His eyes widened as if to hear my words more clearly.
“I won. Even if I’m just a blind butcher like you, seeing nothing but the sword, isn’t it better to win than to lose?”
Dan Muk-sang didn’t respond.
No, he had already stopped breathing, his eyes wide open. Perhaps he had died before I even finished speaking.
Slowly, I pulled my sword free. With that, Dan Muk-sang’s withered body collapsed to the ground as if leaning on my blade was the only thing keeping him upright.
Thud.
I briefly looked at his corpse, sprawled atop the pool of blood he had created, before turning away.
Waiting in the distance was the martial artist who had been silently observing all this ti.
“Thank you for waiting.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. I can’t beat you alone anyway.”
The martial artist, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
Despite their appearance, which resembled a rotting old tree, their voice was surprisingly clear. However, they winced as they spoke, as if even talking caused pain. It was likely another side effect of demonic cultivation.
“Dan Muk-sang’s thoughts. I don’t agree. But he was a comrade. I didn’t want to interrupt his last words.”
“Is that so.”
With that, the martial artist took their stance once more. I raised my sword toward them.
My entire body was battered from fighting Dan Muk-sang. Blood continued to drip freely, and the demonic energy wreaking havoc inside made my insides churn.
I’d probably be bedridden for days, unable to move. But I still had enough strength to cut down one more opponent.
“Do you have any last words?”
“Perhaps… you’re right. We’re all blind fools, consud by revenge. I wanted to kill the Sama Clan… but…”
“But instead, you targeted and Tang Sowol, who had nothing to do with them.”
“...I’m sorry.”
The martial artist apologized briefly. Unlike Dan Muk-sang, who believed all martial artists should die—especially talented ones—this one seed different.
But a single apology wasn’t enough to undo the lines we had already crossed.
Understanding this, the martial artist assud a combat stance and spoke.
“I am the Ghostwood Witch, Sama Suryun.”
“Cheon Hwi-da. No title.”
Our belated introductions marked the beginning of the fight.
The demonic energy emanating from the Ghostwood Witch’s fist soon spread throughout her entire body.
Shrouding one’s entire body with energy—a reckless act. While it made her faster and tougher, it would undoubtedly drain her internal energy dozens of tis faster.
Even with the rapid progress of demonic cultivation, such a technique was impossible for soone who hadn’t reached the peak level. Unless she was burning her true essence, it was unthinkable.
No matter the outco, the Ghostwood Witch wouldn’t last even half a quarter-hour before dying.
Wasting no ti, she kicked off the ground. Her figure resembled a log engulfed in dark flas.
Pabat!
She closed the distance with far greater speed than before. Her energy-laden fist shot toward my heart.
But I had already anticipated her movents through the bloodlust I had scattered in the area.
Dodging wasn’t difficult.
Puhong!
Her fist sliced through empty air, releasing a shockwave that swept past my head.
Before the wind could settle, she launched a rising kick aid at my chin. The intent was so fierce that my jaw tingled even before it landed.
Thanks to that, I managed to tilt my head back in ti to avoid it.
Taking advantage of the opening, I swung my sword toward the Ghostwood Witch’s neck.
Kkaang!
The blade was deflected with a tallic clang. This ti, however, it left no mark.
Her skin, already tough like tree bark, was now reinforced with internal energy. It would’ve been strange if the blade had left a scratch.
I gripped my sword tightly, absorbing the shock of the rebound, and continued exchanging blows with her.
The Ghostwood Witch, her life burning away like a living torch, swung with all her might. I dodged her strikes or diverted their direction with my blade.
Occasionally, she would switch to clawing techniques or palm strikes, but they lacked finesse and were easy to predict.
Compared to Dan Muk-sang, who had unleashed a deadly ultimate technique, the Ghostwood Witch’s attacks were lacking.
Her martial arts focused on defense, as opposed to Dan Muk-sang’s extre offensiveness. But even taking that into account, her skills were insufficient.
Still, she didn’t stop. No, she couldn’t stop. Once soone starts burning their life away, hesitation no longer exists.
I simply responded, parrying her strikes and swinging my sword in return.
Kang! Kaang! Kang!
I aid for the sa spot on her neck each ti. Ordinarily, she would’ve died dozens of tis by now. The only reason she was still alive was her unique demonic cultivation.
How many tis had we repeated this stagnant exchange of attacks and counters?
The Ghostwood Witch’s demonic energy, which had been burning brightly, began to wane. She must have been running out of internal energy.
Seeing her neck no longer protected by energy, I swung my sword once more.
Kaduk!
The blade was deflected again, but this ti a small piece of her hardened skin chipped away.
Even as she sensed her imminent death, the Ghostwood Witch stubbornly kept striking with her fists and feet.
And so, I continued driving my sword into her neck, over and over again.
Kakak! Kaduk! Kwajik!
Finally, after countless strikes, her neck began to crack. The repeated blows had fractured her hardened skin, leaving faint sword marks.
It was like watching a tree slowly fall after repeated axe strikes.
Noticing the cracks, I focused the scattered bloodlust around into my sword. My internal energy naturally followed.
But even that wasn’t enough.
I squeezed out the remaining internal energy from my Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art, sharpening my will like a blade.
This strike would push my limits.
Ssswaeeek!
The sword’s movent was no different from before—sa force, sa trajectory, sa speed. But there was one difference.
A faint crimson aura began to rise from the blade.
The Ghostwood Witch’s eyes widened slightly as she noticed the sword energy.
And then—
Ssskuk.
Her shocked head flew into the air.
The flas of the living torch were extinguished.
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