16 – 01# A Hair’s Breadth from Death (16)

Demonic Arts.

A martial art solely dedicated to the pursuit of power, where devotees would surrender even their own lives for it. Uncaring if they were to perish in achieving their aims.

That was the defining reason they were known as the Demonic Sect. The Righteous Sects honed both mind and body through their martial arts, striving for higher realms of enlightenment, and even the Unorthodox Sects pursued strength.

But they weren’t so reckless as to throw their lives away, or commit murder without a second thought. The Demonic Sect, however, harbored no qualms about breaking the law or taking human lives.

From that perspective, Demonic Arts truly lived up to their name. Of course, the specifics of Demonic Arts and the Demonic Sect varied wildly across different martial arts novels, making it difficult to state with certainty.

But generally speaking, if one was willing to endure immense risks, it was possible to grow stronger faster than through orthodox martial arts. The highest echelon of Demonic Arts, moreover, supposedly had negligible side effects.

However, limitations inevitably existed. The greatest flaw of Demonic Arts was, naturally, its side effects. One might grow powerful quickly, but at the cost of twisted meridians, preventing them from reaching higher realms.

Or, thanks to a brutal internal energy, the use of Demonic Arts could result in internal injuries due to recoil. The specific side effects varied from tale to tale. And surely, the Clan Head was no exception.

‘Come to think of it, wasn’t it said that his personality changed suddenly a few years ago? As I recall, one of the side effects of Demonic Arts is a warped personality.’

Combining the detail that those who practiced Demonic Arts had their personalities twisted with Soo-ah’s testimony that he’d suddenly changed several years prior, it seemed likely he had started practicing Demonic Arts around then.

The Demonic Arts’ wicked internal energy and the orthodox martial art’s pure internal energy were fundamentally incompatible. Of course, one’s internal energy would still grow, possibly giving the impression of increased power.

But that didn’t align with the very definition of an absolute master that martial artists ultimately pursued. Absolute masters in the martial arts world were those who had reached enlightenment through training.

Even with internal energy as vast as the ocean,

if one couldn’t control it, it would ultimately be useless.

Instead, they might be swallowed whole by a massive, uncontrollable wave.

Simply possessing an abundance of internal energy only elevated one to the realm of Mastery at best. Achieving greater heights required a concomitant understanding of martial arts itself.

‘But even so, I can’t deny that he possesses strength at least on the level of a Master. Does that mean I, too, have somehow reached the level of a Master?’

“Grand Hero?”

“…….”

The boundary between Mastery and First-Rate was ambiguous. Depending on the novel, sword intent typically manifested from the Transcendent realm onwards, and some even described it being used by peak First-Rate experts.

In comparison, a Master was merely described as being able to freely manipulate sword energy as if it were a limb. Even then, that was merely fodder for protagonists who started at the Transcendent realm.

“Grand Hero! Is something the matter?!”

“……Forgive me. I was lost in thought for a moment.”

I experienced a brief mental freeze, but managed to snap out of it thanks to Soo-ah shouting loudly from my side. This wasn’t the time to indulge in world-building. I needed to stop that monster, and quickly.

“Demonic Arts are a heretical martial art rooted in wicked power. They are mainly used by nefarious individuals belonging to the Demonic Sect. But have you never heard of Demonic Arts even once?”

“This is the first time I’ve heard of it from you, Grand Hero.”

“I see.”

She’s never even heard the name of Demonic Arts? Is the Demonic Sect acting covertly without engaging in external activities? I’ve already devoured all such martial arts stories from ages ago.

If there was one thing that troubled me, it was the life of the Clan Lord.

Right now, the warriors of the Murong Clan were struggling desperately to stop him, but to return a Clan Lord completely consumed by demonic arts to his original state was near impossible.

Various dangers came with it, but the single advantage of gaining immense power was what made the demonic arts certain. Even more so, given the adversary had built internal energy for years.

‘Having mastered the demonic arts for so long, if calculated purely by the total amount of internal energy… it might be beyond Transcendent… no, perhaps even at the Illumination Realm. It’s only fortunate that it seems to be weakening with time.’

If martial arts were like slowly, sturdily building a fortress wall, demonic arts were akin to a sandcastle. They could be erected quickly, but collapsed even faster than they were built.

As proof, the Clan Lord’s aura was already far weaker than before. Not only was he releasing all his accumulated internal energy, but he was also wasting it. In a way, it was an inevitable outcome.

Judging that I could win sufficiently in his state, I rose from my spot with a hardened expression. I didn’t want to kill a father in front of his daughter, but there was no other way now.

“Forgive me, Sua.”

Now, I had no choice but to kill him.

◇

A living hell.

The only way to summarize the horrific scene unfolding before my eyes in a single phrase. The warriors were being butchered like swine by my father’s sword, wreathed in ominous, blood-colored sword energy.

The warriors rushed at him with all their might to somehow stop Father, but charging at an absolute master who had reached the peak was a far more foolish act than striking a rock with an egg.

Blood flowed like a river upon the ground, never drying, and upon it, corpses began to pile up like a mountain. If this horrific sight wasn’t hell, then what else could it be called?

Overwhelmed by the horror, Sua could only sit there, doing nothing. From the start, that ominous red sword energy… she had never even heard of anything like it.

“Could that be… demonic arts?”

“……?!”

But the answer came from an unexpected source. Sua instinctively turned her head toward the voice. Naturally, the Nameless Hero stood there.

‘…Of course. Perhaps I already knew, somewhere deep down.’

From the beginning, something had felt off. The way he seemed to know everything, all the inner workings, without having seen it firsthand, went beyond mere cleverness.

Even I, who had all but devoured every book in the Murong Clan, didn’t recognize that ominous power. Yet the Hero had noticed it instantly. What did that mean?

‘The Hero must have been fighting evil men since he was very young!’

The strength of one who had reached the peak by the age of thirty, a maturity that didn’t match his age, and knowledge that even the Murong Clan lacked. Finally, all the pieces were falling into place in my mind.

The Hero’s face, bearing the marks of harsh winds and trials, and the countless scars I had subtly glimpsed on his body as we lived together. It all must have been the result of life-and-death battles.

And at that precise moment, Sua’s eyes met Nameless’s. Reading a mixture of worry and regret in the Hero’s eyes as he looked at her, Sua felt certain.

‘I don’t know why the Hero walked such a hellish path. But at least I don’t think that this hellish scene is unrelated to him.’

“Forgive me, Sua.”

The Hero’s powerless voice felt like a self-reproach for not preventing things from reaching this point. That appearance, it was like looking at a worn-out blade.

Without realizing it, Sua reached out her hand toward the Hero, who was heading into hell. But she couldn’t bring herself to grab him. In the end, she had no choice but to rely on the Hero even now.

‘So what if he’s hailed as the prodigy the Murong clan hasn’t seen in their history? While I’m being swayed by empty praise, Grand Warrior is fighting a solitary, desperate battle.’

And so, Sua opened her eyes wide, wanting to capture every single detail of the nameless man. Crude as he was. Even so, Nameless stepped into hell.

And everyone gathered here witnessed it. Those with eyes saw with their eyes, those without heard with their ears. The sight of him walking forward, the sound of his footsteps.

Murong Gang’s bloodshot eyes, which had been darting around like a madman, locked onto Nameless. He sensed it instinctively. The only adversary present who posed a threat to him.

But Murong Gang, completely consumed by demonic arts, was incapable of strategy. All that remained within him was destruction, and before him unfolded the pinnacle of violence.

Faced with a sword art that was an insult to even be called swordsmanship, nothing but carnage remaining, Nameless gripped his sword with both hands and slowly raised it above his head. That was all.

Yet, with just that, the ground trembled and the heavens shook. The stance was identical, but the reason for this disparity was singular. Only the difference in resolve and will contained within.

His opponent was at least a Transcendent Master.

At worst, a Supreme Master who had reached the realm of Ascendancy.

On the other hand, he himself was only a Peak Master at best.

And even that wasn’t certain.

Truly, the strongest adversary he’d ever faced in his life, an opponent for whom he had to risk everything.

Even so, Nameless did not flinch and stood his ground. It was absurd, but strangely, he had a strong feeling that he could win. Trusting that feeling, he swung his sword.

Exceeding even his full power.

A strike infused with all his life force.

Where only two outcomes existed: either he died or his opponent died.

A gamble where everything was on the line. A do-or-die situation.

The sword infused with all his life force carved a rough line across the world. And at that moment, Sua alone raised her head. And was soon struck with horror.

A line was drawn across the high heavens.

Even the clouds were split in two.

How could she not be horrified?