Bu Eunseol cautiously touched the metal piece attached to the sword’s mechanism again.
Shwaak!
The poisonous needles protruding from the hilt vanished without a trace.
“So that’s how it works.”
Examining the hilt closely, Bu Eunseol nodded. The hidden mechanism served two purposes: likely to prevent the weapon from being stolen when the short sword was combined with a greatsword, and to fire the embedded needles for a surprise attack at close range.
“An unusual material.”
The blade of the short sword was pitch black. Bu Eunseol’s cherished sword, the Black Blade, was also black, but as a divine weapon, it shimmered with an eerie sheen. This short sword, however, absorbed all light, devoid of any glow. Without the hilt, it would look like a dark crack in the air, shaped like a blade.
“Not a sword I’d use.” One Black Blade was enough for him. Besides, he hadn’t mastered any notable sword techniques. Uninterested in weapons, Bu Eunseol felt no attachment to the short sword. “I’m searching for the Seven-Finger Demon Blade’s trail, not his weapon.”
Swish.
Despite his words, Bu Eunseol tucked the sword into his robes. Though he had no greed for treasures, he couldn’t leave behind something that might serve as a clue.
Thud.
As his blood-stained glove touched the sword, a low hum emanated from it.
Wooong.
The blade trembled violently, and a faint click sounded near the hilt.
“Another mechanism for firing hidden weapons?” Raising his Void Heart Command, a white gleam flickered in Bu Eunseol’s eyes. Closely inspecting the worn hilt, his gaze settled on a dark ornament at its end.
Clank.
Injecting a subtle stream of energy into the ornament, it popped open, revealing a tightly rolled, tattered piece of paper.
“A sword manual?” Bu Eunseol’s eyes flashed as he stared at the blood-stained paper. It was the Seven Blood Tears Techniques. Astonishingly, hidden within the hilt was not a weapon but a sword technique composed of seven forms.
“The Seven Blood Tears Techniques…” Bu Eunseol was puzzled.
The names of demonic martial arts typically reflected their power or characteristics, but Seven Blood Tears Techniques carried a profoundly melancholic tone for a sword technique.
“What is this…?” As he read the words on the tattered paper, the white gleam in his eyes intensified.
The Seven Blood Tears Techniques. If Bu Eunseol had reached the Supreme Realm, these were the sword techniques he had only imagined in theory, now written as a manual. The martial prowess of their creator, the Seven-Finger Demon Blade Bu Zhanyang, far surpassed his expectations.
“Remarkable.” Unable to tear his eyes away, Bu Eunseol studied the manual. It unleashed the unstoppable might of nature itself, a unique sword technique that required burning both body and soul to execute.
“He was the second-in-command of Majeon. Why would he create such a sorrowful and tragic technique?”
First Form: Life Lodges, Death Returns. This world is but a temporary stay. To die is to return to the origin.
Second Form: Seeking Life in Death. In a situation where death is inevitable, a sliver of life is sought…
Third Form: Half-Life, Half-Death. Caught in a state neither alive nor dead.
Fourth Form: Desiring Death, No Place Found. Wishing to die, yet finding no place to do so.
Fifth Form: Death Without Closing Eyes. Even at the moment of death, unable to close one’s eyes.
Sixth Form: Death Without Regret. Though I die, I leave no lingering regrets.
Seventh Form: Death with Lingering Sin. Even in death, the weight of sin remains… a pity.
The forms of the Seven Blood Tears Techniques all revolved around “death.” Bu Eunseol could feel it. Bu Zhanyang, who created this technique, lived with death in his heart and ultimately yearned for it.
“Why…?” Bu Eunseol couldn’t understand. “To create such a supreme sword technique and still be consumed by such sorrow?”
The Seven Blood Tears Techniques etched into the blade by Bu Zhanyang weren’t merely the greatest demonic sword techniques—they were the greatest sword techniques in the world. Despite achieving such mastery and holding the esteemed position of second-in-command of Majeon, why had he lived such a tormented and weary life?
“It wasn’t grandfather.”
His grandfather Bu Zhanyang had always instilled hope and encouragement in him, teaching him not to dwell on past mistakes. The mindset of the Seven-Finger Demon Blade who created this technique was worlds apart from that.
“I can’t make sense of it.”
Initially, Bu Eunseol had instinctively believed his grandfather and the Seven-Finger Demon Blade were the same person. But this manual suggested they were entirely different individuals.
“And this manual…” Bu Eunseol took a deep breath.
The seven forms were beyond his current ability to master. Each form was inscribed with a corresponding heart technique, requiring the fusion of spirit and body to unleash their true power. In short, without aligning spirit and body with each form’s heart technique, they couldn’t even be performed—a uniquely exceptional sword technique.
The only form Bu Eunseol could comprehend was the First Form: Life Lodges, Death Returns. It perfectly aligned with his view of life and death as one and the same.
“He wasn’t a cruel murderer, that’s certain.”
According to Jongri Sahyeon, contrary to popular belief, the Seven-Finger Demon Blade wasn’t particularly vicious. Bu Eunseol could sense it too. Bu Zhanyang had lived in sorrow and anguish, yearning for his own death. That’s why he could create such a technique and reign invincible.
“Seven-Finger Demon Blade.” Bu Eunseol tightly gripped the short sword. He felt it was his fate to wield it.
Clank.
Drawing the scabbard, he noticed the faint characters for “Journey” etched on its base, likely the name Bu Zhanyang gave the sword.
“Journey…”
Bu Eunseol sighed deeply and shook his head. To name his cherished sword, always carried with him, “Journey”—such a lonely title. Bu Zhanyang had lived in solitude for countless years, viewing the blood-soaked life of a martial artist as merely a fleeting “traveler’s path.”
Clank.
Bu Eunseol sheathed Journey. Once inside the old, rusty scabbard, the sword’s ominous black aura vanished, appearing as a worn, unremarkable blade.
“Let’s go.” Taking a deep breath, Bu Eunseol turned.
On Ghost Island, he had mended his fractured spirit and realized that martial arts weren’t about raw power but achieving the pinnacle of subtlety.
Having also acquired the Seven-Finger Demon Blade’s supreme technique, the Seven Blood Tears Techniques, he was now ready to sever the head of the vile Heavenly Sword.
***
The martial world was in an uproar. On the island called Ghost Island, renowned righteous heroes had been massacred. Their bodies bore various wounds, but the most fatal were those shattered like brittle pastries by the Inner Bullet Technique—the signature technique of the Bullet King.
“Did the Bullet King slaughter the righteous heroes?”
The martial world, especially the righteous faction, was baffled. Bukgung Ryeong, the Bullet King, was a noble hero who roamed the martial world alone, performing good deeds—an exemplar of the righteous path.
Yet, the bodies bore traces of his Violet Lightning Golden Orbs, and the character for “Bullet” was carved before a cave on Ghost Island. But Bukgung Ryeong had vanished, and no one knew the truth. The righteous faction’s intelligence networks searched for him, but he had disappeared without a trace.
“This matter can’t be judged lightly.” The righteous faction refrained from hasty conclusions. Without Bukgung Ryeong stepping forward, the truth remained elusive. But this was only the surface reaction of the faction’s leaders.
“Find that masked murderer!”
“How could a revered grandmaster of the righteous path commit such slaughter?”
Friends, kin, and sects of the fallen heroes on Ghost Island pursued Bukgung Ryeong, some even hiring bounty hunters with vast sums.
Bukgung Ryeong, the Bullet King, a righteous hero who had protected the martial world with honor and justice for decades, was now branded a hidden murderer.
Returning to Majeon, Bu Eunseol immediately entered secluded training to master the Seven Blood Tears Techniques of Bu Zhanyang.
‘Old man.’ Before entering seclusion, Bu Eunseol thought of Bukgung Ryeong with a bitter expression. He had heard all the rumors about the Bullet King shaking the martial world. ‘As expected, it was a plot to destroy his reputation.’
The rapid spread of the Ghost Island incident made it clear that the forces behind Jangbodo were responsible. Bu Eunseol had promised to take the blame himself, but Bukgung Ryeong refused, choosing to follow their scheme—because he believed Bu Eunseol could one day be the martial world’s savior.
‘It’ll take time,’ Bu Eunseol muttered, taking a deep breath in the training chamber. ‘But I’ll restore your honor, old man.’
Bukgung Ryeong had given him opportunities with his Inner Bullet Technique at every encounter. To repay that debt, Bu Eunseol vowed to one day clear his name.
Four days later, studying the sword manual in seclusion, Bu Eunseol shook his head wearily.
“Still no progress.”
He had memorized the Seven Blood Tears Techniques hidden in Journey’s hilt and burned the manual. Day and night, he devoted himself to mastering it. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, though even four sleepless nights couldn’t tire him.
The Seven Blood Tears Techniques were nearly as profound as the supreme heart techniques of the Emotion-Severing Secret or Martial Emperor’s Absolute Technique combined, making them incredibly difficult to learn.
“But even this first form could cut the world.” He had achieved some success, mastering the First Form: Life Lodges, Death Returns by aligning it with his spirit. He was certain that few in the world could block this single form.
Click.
Emerging into the midday sun, Bu Eunseol headed toward Crimson Blossom Pavilion to clear his mind with a walk after his long seclusion.
From a distance, Mugwang, Yoo Unryong’s aide, approached.
“My Lord,” Mugwang said respectfully, clasping his hands. “Master Yoo Unryong and Master Myo Cheonwoo await you in the meeting hall.”
Bu Eunseol’s eyes flashed. Their summons meant the investigation into the Heavenly Sword was complete. He immediately headed to the meeting hall. Inside, Yoo Unryong and Myo Cheonwoo sat at a large table, their faces worn with fatigue. They had likely spent sleepless nights investigating and refining information on the Heavenly Sword.
“Good work,” Bu Eunseol said, praising their efforts before hearing their report.
Myo Cheonwoo gave a dry smile. “Hard work? This is our duty too.”
Avenging Yeongmunho, killed by the Heavenly Sword, was a mission for all ten demon warriors, not just Bu Eunseol.
“The Nine Deaths Squad was a great help,” Yoo Unryong said, his face haggard. “I understand why you invested so much to make them your personal force. Without them, we couldn’t have gathered this much on the Heavenly Sword.”
Bu Eunseol nodded. The Heavenly Sword had always been elusive, and now, as a top-tier corps captain of the Martial Alliance, his actions were likely concealed by their intelligence network. Only the Nine Deaths Squad, rivaling the Shadow Pavilion, could uncover his trail.
“To summarize briefly, that lunatic is mimicking you,” Yoo Unryong said calmly. “He leads his own force, targeting sects causing trouble for the Martial Alliance and harming civilians, all to build his reputation.”
“Hmm.”
“He’s immensely skilled and fearless. Perhaps because of a head injury in his childhood.”
“A head injury?” Bu Eunseol asked.
Yoo Unryong nodded. “They say the Heavenly Sword was the sole survivor of a village massacred by bandits.”
Sighing, he continued, “The last house the bandits destroyed was his. Just before the child died, the Sword Venerable appeared.”
***
The bandits attacked the village, brutally killing its people. As they finished their slaughter, they found a child hiding in a shed. Clenching his small fists, the child charged at the bandits who had massacred his family, swinging wildly.
“Hmph.” Annoyed, a bandit kicked the child, sending him flying ten yards into a rock, blood pouring from his head. Yet, he still breathed, struggling to rise.
“Tenacious little brat,” the bandit sneered, approaching again.
Kwarrung!
Thunder roared, and a white figure descended from the sky—Heonwon Damcheong, the Sword Venerable, drawn by the village’s screams. But the village was already annihilated, with only the bloodied child remaining.
“Worthless scum,” he said, enraged, dispatching hundreds of bandits in moments.
“…” Looking at the child writhing by the rock, Heonwon Damcheong’s eyes wavered. The child’s cruel fate and exceptional physique stirred him.
“Hmm.” Heonwon Damcheong already had grown disciples and planned to leave the martial world. But seeing the child, he felt an inescapable destiny.
“Is this heaven’s will?” Though a farmer’s son, the child’s potential was extraordinary. Resolving himself, Heonwon Damcheong asked softly, “What’s your name?”
But the child, dazed from the head injury, stared blankly.
“His brain’s damaged,” Heonwon Damcheong noted. The child had lost all memories.
Kwarrung!
As thunder and rain fell, Heonwon Damcheong approached. “Will you follow me?”
The child nodded blankly.
Wooong!
Blue light radiated from Heonwon Damcheong, exuding immense presence. “Ensure no such villains harm the world. Become the sword of heaven to purge evildoers.”
“The sword… of heaven,” the child murmured.
“Yes.”
Looking at the child, Heonwon Damcheong said solemnly, “From now on, your name is Heavenly Sword.”
***
“That’s how the Heavenly Sword became the Sword Venerable’s disciple,” Yoo Unryong concluded.
Myo Cheonwoo stroked his chin. “Sounds too contrived, like a legend.”
“Likely spread by the Sword Venerable’s side,” Yoo Unryong said with a shrug. “Otherwise, such a private story wouldn’t be so widely known.”
He continued, looking at Bu Eunseol. “Afterward, the Heavenly Sword inherited all of the Sword Venerable’s astonishing swordsmanship.”
The Heavenly Sword’s talent was so prodigious it amazed even the Sword Venerable. Perhaps due to his head injury, he felt no fear and excelled in learning martial arts. He took pleasure in facing strong opponents, sparing the weak. His only flaw was his merciless cruelty toward evildoers, but in the eyes of the righteous faction, this was no great fault.
“No weaknesses at all,” Bu Eunseol remarked.
Yoo Unryong’s eyes gleamed. “No, there is one.”
He spoke with conviction. “We thoroughly investigated his every move. That Heavenly Sword has a fatal flaw.”
Comments