47 – 04# Honeyed Words, Dagger in Heart (6)

While Nameless was locked in a bloody battle with the Demonic Cult masters, the situation on the cliff was gradually resolving itself. In particular, Seolhwa’s performance far surpassed Sua’s imagination, surprisingly.

As if to prove the fruits of her training under Nameless. Seolhwa’s sword, grounded in the basics, possessed a weight that third-rate martial artists couldn’t hope to withstand.

Seolhwa’s rough but powerful martial arts delivered a fresh shock to Nam Gung-yeon, who had witnessed and directly experienced the martial arts of the young geniuses at the Seonmu Academy. The origin was, at best, the Three Brilliances Sword Style.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet, how was such skill possible…?

“The more powerful the martial art, the more difficult it is to master, but the more formidable the power it wields.” That was Nam Gung-yeon’s understanding, and indeed the conventional wisdom of martial artists across the *murim*.

Of course, that wasn’t to dismiss the efficiency of the Three Brilliances Sword Style. But no matter how much one refined the Three Brilliances Sword Style, it couldn’t possibly become stronger than the Nam Gung Family’s secret art, the Imperial Sword Form, could it?

But the martial arts Seolhwa was displaying right now were on par with the most talented prodigies in the Seonmu Academy. So it was understandable that he couldn’t comprehend it.

“The answer is simple. It’s faith.”

“Faith, you say? Faith in what, exactly?”

“The faith that the martial arts our Master teaches are the supreme ones.”

“Your devotion to Master is admirable… but the world is not so lenient that sheer willpower can overcome all,” Nangong Yeon remarked. He initially dismissed it as the childish prattle of a naive disciple, for while Seolhwa was not much younger in years, her mind seemed to dwell within a seven-year-old’s.

Yet, the moment he met her crimson eyes, gleaming with an unsettling light amidst her white hair, Nangong Yeon was forced to retract his prior assessment. Blood rained like a torrent across the air.

The blood of those fools who dared defy their Master. Seolhwa, now draped in gore and splattered with viscera, wore a smile upon her lips, yet the crimson eyes fixed on him were icily calm.

“Senior Disciple… or should I say, Junior Sister? I still get confused,” she murmured.

“…”

“May I ask a favor? Do not presume to judge my devotion to Master. Hearing the flippant judgments of those who know nothing…” she paused, her voice dropping to a dangerous murmur,

“… makes me genuinely want to kill.”

Just as personalities differ, so too does *salgi*—killing intent. But Seolhwa’s was less human, more akin to the raw, primal rage of a beast.

It silenced Nangong Yeon, leaving him only able to nod his agreement. In an instant, Seolhwa’s face reverted to its usual innocent expression. The *salgi* vanished as if it never existed.

*’What on earth has she been through…?’*

Nangong Yeon was already aware that Seolhwa had endured hardships beyond imagining. But to think she concealed such a potent *salgi*… he couldn’t tell if she was human or beast.

For now, though, he needed to focus on finishing off the remaining infiltrators.

Seolhwa’s unexpected performance had decimated the enemy forces disguised as attendants. It was the White Grandmasters, who had openly aligned with the Demonic Cult, who were now growing frantic.

They had entrusted the Sword Demon – the biggest variable – to the Demonic Cult directly, and possessed numerical superiority otherwise. How could a single defection cause such a catastrophic cascade of events? It defied all reason.

And, more to the point…

Why was he fighting with only one working arm?

How was he losing to that insufferably arrogant b*stard?

At first, Baek Sanha had been confident. He was, after all, a White Grandmaster, second only to Go Gyeom in skill, and now he had embraced demonic arts.

He was several times stronger than he had been in the past. Moreover, Go Gyeom had been ambushed, stabbed in the shoulder, and was fighting with only one arm. He should not be able to lose.

But the impossible was happening. In this most advantageous situation – one he should never be able to lose – he was being brutally overwhelmed by Go Gyeom, who was fighting with only one arm.

“You little…!!”

*Fwip! Kwang!!*

“Ugh!!!”

The terrifying shriek of air being torn apart heralded the invisible Iron Dragon Whip slamming into Baek Sanha’s sword. He tried to break free, to employ a technique, but his opponent moved faster, intercepting him at every turn.

Baek Sanha couldn’t even properly execute a single technique, and was slowly being driven into a corner. Yet, if he recklessly charged forward, he knew he would be instantly caught by the Iron Dragon Whip and beheaded.

But if he continued to be pushed back like this, he would be exhausted and ultimately defeated. To break this stalemate, he needed to act, to do something, while he still had the strength.

*’There’s no turning back now. I probably won’t survive this.’*

Even driven to this sorry state, Baek San-ha was still a formidable figure among the hundred greatest warriors. He knew, of course, that seizing victory from this situation was near impossible.

Even if he were lucky enough to survive, the days ahead offered little hope. What, then, was the best course of action available to him now? Nay, did he not already know?

The hesitation vanished from Baek San-ha’s face, replaced by a resolute will. Seeing this, Go-gyeom knew that this was Baek San-ha’s final gambit. A brief silence fell.

“Hmph!”

Baek San-ha, breaking the silence, seized the initiative. If the other hundred greatest warriors were overwhelmed and defeated, joining the fray here, this last resort of his would be rendered useless.

“Foolish. Is that truly your trump card?”

“Do not dare belittle my resolve, Go-gyeom.”

“……?!”

The greatest challenge in overcoming the Iron Dragon Strike lay in its speed. Wielded with such blinding swiftness, it was like a silent, deadly assassin, near impossible to track with the eye.

But Baek San-ha had sparred countless times with Go-gyeom. This meant he could, to some extent, anticipate its movements. Thanks to this, Baek San-ha could evade the Iron Dragon Strike…

At least by sacrificing an arm. The Iron Dragon Strike’s sharp edge severed Baek San-ha’s arm in an instant. Yet, in that fleeting moment of opportunity, Baek San-ha’s body surged forward.

He had completely abandoned all thought of survival.

A desperate gambit of mutual destruction.

His sword, imbued with a life-or-death determination, aimed for Go-gyeom’s chest.

And then, at last. The sound of flesh being pierced echoed.

Baek San-ha stared blankly down at his own chest. There, Go-gyeom’s Finger Strike had perfectly pierced his heart. Had he foreseen even this, and prepared for it in advance?

“…So that’s it. You bound the arm that couldn’t wield the Iron Dragon Strike and used it to control my moves.”

“In a life-or-death struggle, a slight deception can bring about a significant change. But alas, you were far stronger in your earlier days.”

“Are you mocking me even at the very end?”

“Not mockery, but genuine sentiment. Ensnared by Demonic Arts, your actions became so predictable, so easy to decipher. Even your final attempt at mutual destruction.”

“In the end, was it my defeat because I was intoxicated with power and forgot my essence?”

With those words, Baek San-ha felt the strength draining from his body. Go-gyeom silently withdrew his Finger Strike and gently laid Baek San-ha’s body down. So bitter was his resentment that his eyes remained open.

“…Farewell.”

Go-gyeom closed Baek San-ha’s eyes with a heavy heart. Though he had committed a terrible betrayal, casting aside the affection he had held for his friend proved far more difficult than he imagined.

◇

The current is strange.

According to the original plan, the fighting should have ended a long time ago, and the Sword Demon’s disciples should have been taken prisoner. Already half an hour has passed, and yet, for some reason, no news has been heard.

The moment they became aware of that fact, the two masters hesitated in their attacks. It was almost instinctive. The only reason the Sword Demon hadn’t killed them so far was because…

He didn’t know the exact safety of his disciples. But the moment the thought that things were going wrong dominated their minds, their worries, whether they liked it or not, were bound to be reflected in their attacks.

And Moomyung wasn’t stupid enough not to notice that fact. Moomyung stood boldly before them, his body covered in blood. He had allowed minor and major attacks, resulting in quite a few injuries.

Strangely, he felt no impediment in moving his body. The masked woman was aghast at this fact. Clearly, she had laced poison onto her fingernails, so how could he be so unscathed?

‘Could it be…the legendary imperviousness to all poisons?! Though, if it’s the Sword Demon, nothing is impossible…!!’

“It seems things aren’t flowing as planned, are they?”

“…Don’t presume to jump to conclusions. Your disciples are as good as captured.”

“Indeed. That means they are not captured *yet*.”

“Khuk!!!”

“That single fact is enough.”

Nameless grasped the sword with both hands. His mind was already hazy, saturated with the blood he had spilled, but somehow, the moment he held the sword so. The blurred vision regained its clarity.

In that instant, the choice made by the Demonic Cult experts was swift and decisive. The massive man exploded with all his inner force, charging towards the Sword Demon. Destruction that obliterated all.

Merely unleashing his inner power shattered the ground, fragments erupting outwards. Yet, even faced with such a pinnacle of devastation. Nameless simply swung his sword.

A vertical slash?

No, not that.

He felt he could reach a higher place now.

Driven to the extreme limit, life itself hanging by a thread, the current situation ironically ignited a desperate will to live. And then, once more, the ultimate essence of the Three Calamities Sword Technique was unleashed.

泰山押頂

Mount Tai Pressing Down.

Not a slash. The immense pressure, as if Mount Tai itself was descending, crushed the body of the Demonic Cult expert, one of their elite, and in its wake, fissures erupted across the cliff face, causing it to crumble.

“…The other one escaped, then.”

So, the other one chose to flee while this one bought them time. Reading the intent belatedly, Nameless clicked his tongue in annoyance. He wanted to pursue and kill them, but.

His current condition was less than ideal.

And more importantly, the cliff was collapsing.

Leaving this place had to come first.