Chapter 162 Dark Clouds (2)

Chapter 162 Dark Clouds (2)

Leaving the corpse of the white-robed figure behind, Gu Yang-jeok’s footsteps hurried forward.

But what lay ahead were not enemy soldiers, but more robed figures.

They resembled moths flying toward a flame, causing Gu Yang-jeok to frown deeply.

‘Disgusting.’

Gu Yang-jeok spat and walked forward.

The Purple Mist Qi flowed along the blade of the Sword of Truth, making its already sharp edge even harder and more incisive.

Yet, there was no fear in the robes’ eyes.

No emotion was reflected in their gray pupils.

As if they only needed to charge forward, they didn’t even flinch as their comrades fell before them—a sight so bizarre it was almost grotesque.

‘They won’t even give us a moment to breathe.’

Gu Yangjeok’s teeth clenched together with a sharp click. His wrist and forearm ached from how many times he’d swung Chamhyun.

Swoosh!

Once more, Chamhyun’s blade swept through, and a dozen robed figures fell dead.

Yet the space was instantly filled by more robes, and indiscriminate slashes filled his entire field of vision.

Swish…

Each slash from the robes became a straight line, embroidering the air.

Of course, Gu Yangji was right in the middle. There was absolutely no room to dodge.

Thud.

As Gu Yangji took half a step back, a dull thud sounded behind him.

The stinging sensation on his skin suggested the rough thorns of the Old Wood had pierced through his robe.

‘I intended to handle this discreetly and move on…’

The sun gradually brightened, and the scent of the Ten Thousand Mile Fragrance faded.

The blood scent was so potent that even Gwak Un-pae, far away, could slowly begin to sense it.

“If you don’t want to die, retreat.”

Knowing it was unlikely to be heard, Gu Yang-jeok still put force into his voice.

Then he stepped forward half a step again.

Simultaneously, the sword energy gathered on the blade’s edge transformed into a fierce, dangerous aura.

Grrrr…!

The old tree trunk cracked under the pressure of the surging energy.

Gripping, a groove carved beneath Gu Yangjeok’s feet. The aftermath of nearly thirty years of internal energy swirling through his blood vessels manifested outward.

Gu Yangjeok, his face flushed, exhaled lightly.

“…Hmph.”

After mastering the Great Heavenly Cycle, Gu Yangji no longer felt difficulty in wielding vast amounts of internal energy.

Physically, he might still have some frailties, but time would resolve that.

Perhaps because of this, unlike two years ago, he no longer felt it impossible.

Moreover, his body was no longer so fragile that it would be wounded by the energy he himself unleashed.

Gu Yangjeok swung the Chameon through the ranks of the robes, grinning.

Just one swing. That was all it took.

Kwaaaaah!

The air screamed along the path the Chameon traced.

The slash blades and thread blades the robes had deployed either bent out of shape or snapped, unable to withstand the force of the qi.

Snap!

It was only natural that the weapons clashing with the sword shattered without leaving even dust behind. Even the Jangsam, who were not in their right minds, widened their eyes.

“What the…!”

“Your eyes were completely dog eyes, but I see your tongues are still intact?”

The Jangsam did not respond to Gu Yangjeok’s mockery. No, it would be more accurate to say they could not.

“Kraaah!”

The eyes of the warriors who had lost their beloved weapons rolled back. Their eyes gleaming with a sickly light, they seemed to accept even their bodies being torn apart by the sword with a kind of ecstasy.

Even Gu Yangjeok wore a look of disgust at the sight.

‘Whoever this bastard is, his methods are truly vicious. Even the legendary Nine Demon Sect never resorted to brainwashing of this caliber.’

Gu Yangjie considered himself far from righteous. Yet witnessing this scene made his teeth clench involuntarily.

It wasn’t that a sudden sense of justice had awakened within him.

Simply… his irritation boiled over.

What had these people done wrong to become human shields blocking his path?

If they had grievances, shouldn’t they move themselves and face him directly?

“Cowards.”

Gu Yangji muttered in a self-deprecating voice.

He knew it wasn’t his place to say such things, having used explosives and deceived others himself.

‘Still, this is too much.’

Gu Yangji’s hand moved toward the faces beneath the robes.

Swish.

He lifted the hoods, intending to at least send their bodies back to their families or sects.

But what lay beneath was even more hideous.

“…Madmen!”

He knew what kind of group the Palm Sect was, how dangerous they were…

Gu Yangjie felt a chill in his heart as he looked at the face beneath the robe, its skin stained black.

Zhi Sha Hong is dangerous.

Thud!

Gu Yangjie’s feet hurried forward.

* * *

“Hm, hm-hmm, hmm.”

Zhi Sha Hong hummed a tune with his back to the moonlit night.

It was an old song, one only sung by aging musicians or those occasionally reminiscing about the past.

But Zhi Sha Hong liked this song.

It made him recall how hard he had lived all these years, and what memories he held.

As he wandered through the forest like this, a dark, muffled voice came from somewhere.

“Is this the River of Sentiment?”

“The World of Sentiment? I like that song too.”

“……”

Zhi Sha Hong didn’t bother asking who this uninvited guest was. He simply gripped his silent blade tightly.

Ever since leaving the Martial Alliance, he’d expected forces targeting him.

And even if it were remnants of the old Demon Sect, Zhi Sha Hong was confident he could overcome them.

“How disappointing.”

Hearing the voice again, Zhi Sha Hong sensed the opponent had drawn closer.

Not within arm’s reach, but ten to eleven paces away.

A distance more than sufficient for a dart to pierce the throat.

Zhi Sha Hong exhaled softly, his gaze growing colder.

“I was thinking we could share some old stories, you know.”

“How can we share stories when you haven’t even revealed yourself?”

“Haha. That’s true.”

With that, a man emerged from between the trees.

Strangely, however, the man’s face was concealed by a peculiar mask.

The shape of a ghost shedding tears.

It possessed such vivid realism that one might believe actual tears were dripping from the mask.

Jik Sa-heong asked in a leisurely voice.

“I asked you to reveal yourself, yet you hide your face.”

“This… goes beyond disappointment to outright dismay… Have you forgotten my voice?”

“What nonsense are you spouting?!”

As Jie Sha Hong bellowed, the man drew the sword tucked at his side.

Engraved on the blade was the phrase: 侶不忘 (Lǚ Bù Wàng).

Only upon seeing that did Jie Sha Hong recognize the man.

“Sword Ghost Jiao Gang Tian?!”

“You finally recognize me.”

Unlike Jiao Gang Tian’s calmly delivered words, Jie Sha Hong couldn’t hide his shock.

And for good reason—Jiao Gang Tian was a figure believed to have gone into seclusion decades ago.

Jie Sha Hong’s voice trembled thinly.

“Senior… no, how can you still be alive?”

Instead of answering, Jie Sha Hong muttered something else.

“Seeing that reckless brat still alive makes me realize just how much time has passed.”

“Answer me!”

“It’s exactly as you think.”

A brief, sorrowful note flickered in Jie Sha Hong’s voice. But the disturbance was fleeting.

A cold, blue sword aura flared along the blade Jie Gang Tian held.

“The Palma you speak of these days. I am merely one of them. Isn’t that neat? We should simply kill each other or be killed.”

“You couldn’t possibly be!”

Zhi Sha Hong stared at Jiao Gang Tian with disbelief.

“You… you’re not some monster like Palma!”

“You dare think you know everything about me? That was when I enjoyed minor deviations. It was just a bit longer and deeper.”

Gao Jiangtian dismissed Zhi Sha Hong’s words with a simple wave, twirling the tip of his sword.

“Whine your way to death, or fight your way to death?”

“……”

Zhi Sha Hong realized this couldn’t be settled with words anymore.

But the Gao Jiangtian he remembered wasn’t an opponent easily defeated.

One wrong move could mean death.

After all, the reason the nickname “Sword Demon” had become notorious throughout the martial world was precisely because of that man, Jiao Gangtian.

“……Very well.”

Zhi Sha Hong steeled his resolve. He trusted the black spear gripped in his right hand.

The martial arts he had honed his entire life were no trifle. Even if his opponent was that Jiao Gangtian!

Zhi Sha Hong’s knuckles turned white.

Simultaneously, his figure shot forward.

Thud!

A thunderous roar that echoed across the mountainside ripped past Jiao Gang Tian’s ears.

Yet, he smiled calmly.

“I never said I’d yield the first strike, did I?”

Gao Gangtian’s sword rose high, radiating a menacing aura.

For a moment, that blade felt to Zhi Sha Hong like a guillotine.

A cleaver poised to sever his body in one swift stroke.

Cold sweat trickled down Zhi Sha Hong’s cheek.

Clang!

As the Silent Spear whirled in a circle, the sword pierced through its center.

They say Jiao Gangchuan’s first strike cleaves mountains, his second cleaves the heavens. That nameless blade had been wielded for over forty years.

With that much time passing, one would expect the blade to show signs of age and dullness.

But Zhi Sha Hong realized with his body that this was no empty boast.

Crunch.

A strange sound emanated from his shoulder.

An impact that would have crushed him instantly had he not protected himself with his inner strength bore down on Jie Sha Hong.

“Hoo.”

A word of admiration escaped from Jiao Gang Tian’s lips.

“That little brat from back then can now withstand my single strike like this. He’s truly grown as a martial artist.”

“Damn it…”

Who would’ve thought he’d hear his own words back at him here.

Jik Sahong let out a hollow laugh and refocused on the fight.

His blazing gaze alone seemed capable of piercing through Gyo Gangcheon and beyond.

Whoosh!

Lan, Na, Chal.

What were merely basic spear techniques transformed into the pinnacle of skill in Jik Sahong’s hands.

When Gyo Gangcheon thrust, he deflected outward; when Gyo Gangcheon slashed, he crushed inward, twisting the trajectory.

A thrust darted through the gap like a flash of lightning.

It was a unique spear technique without even a name, yet Jik Sa-heong had taken pride in it for an indescribably long time.

He roamed the martial world with skills forged solely by himself, belonging to no sect or clan.

Zhi Sha Hong’s spear technique was a masterpiece he had carved out himself.

Suddenly, regret washed over him, and Zhi Sha Hong’s lips twitched.

“…Tian Guang.”

In the midst of battle, it seemed an odd thing to say, but Zhi Sha Hong was seized by a sudden whim.

He now wanted to name a move he had never felt the need to create.

If Jiao Gang Tian heard it, he would scoff.

But Zhi Sha Hong remained serious.

Even in this martial world grown more ruthless than before, wasn’t the desire to leave a name behind still the heart of a man?

Kwaaag!

Zhi Sha Hong’s thrusts rapidly accelerated, piercing Jiao Gang Tian’s entire body. Four or five times faster than before, Jiao Gang Tian momentarily lost his composure.

It was a speed truly worthy of the name Heaven’s Light.

Swish.

As Jiao Gangtian took his first half-step back, Zhi Sha Hong seized the opening and plunged forward without hesitation.

Whoosh…….

Wind howled along the half-circular arc of the Ink-Black Spear. It seemed as if the surrounding air, the Ink-Black Spear, and Zhi Sha Hong had become one entity.

“Heaven’s Reversal.”

The fierce energy and wind channeled through the black spear mingled, producing a bizarre sound. It could easily be called a miniature typhoon.

Jiao Gangtian laughed loudly.

“Yes, that’s it!”

“……!”

Flash!

The spear Jie Sha Hong had honed his entire life collided with Jiao Gangtian’s sword.