The man’s clothes were soaked with blood, his head hanging limply.
He appeared to be dying from severe injuries.
Bu Eunseol, grasping the situation, approached the man.
“…!” His usually stoic expression hardened instantly.
The chained, dying man was none other than Jeong Cheon, the deputy leader of the Red Sky Veil’s Violent Assault Division, a rival Bu Eunseol couldn’t best in a single duel.
“Someone you know?” Gongsun Dana asked.
Bu Eunseol nodded. “Yes.”
Clang.
He cut the chains with his Ice Soul Sword and approached Jeong Cheon. “Brother Jeong, are you alright?”
Jeong Cheon slowly raised his head.
Bu Eunseol froze in shock.
‘This is bad.’
Jeong Cheon’s eyes were pitch black, and his fangs had grown slightly, like a beast’s.
A foul stench emanated from the blood covering his body.
He had clearly consumed vital blood made from Human Flowers or artificial inner cores for a long time.
“What happened?” Bu Eunseol asked.
[Groan.]
A sound, neither human nor beast, escaped Jeong Cheon’s mouth.
Killing intent and fighting spirit.
His eyes held only the will to fight.
Clank.
Struggling to rise, Jeong Cheon reached for the broadsword on the ground.
“So it was you, Brother Jeong,” Bu Eunseol said.
The man who had defeated the Bullet King was Jeong Cheon.
He strapped the broadsword to his waist, as if hearing nothing.
—“They say the research has made some progress. By detoxifying the Human Flowers’ properties, recently infected puppets can be restored…”
Yuk Cheongah’s words suddenly came to mind.
If taken to the Jongri Clan immediately, could Jeong Cheon be saved?
‘No, it’s impossible,’ Bu Eunseol thought, shaking his head grimly.
Jeong Cheon’s side was nearly bone-exposed, with visible intestines.
His body was closer to a living corpse.
Even if the Human Flowers could be detoxified, no method could heal such wounds.
Clang.
Jeong Cheon looked at Bu Eunseol and began drawing his broadsword.
His martial instincts remained.
Seeing the glow of the Ice Soul Sword, he drew his weapon to fight.
“Martial Soul Command Lord,” Gongsun Dana said.
“Step back,” Bu Eunseol replied, standing before Jeong Cheon with his sword drawn.
Jeong Cheon’s body bore the scars of relentless sword training, as if he had staked his life on it. Even on the brink of death, seeing a sword roused him to fight.
How could Bu Eunseol stop him?
The only thing he could do was give him one final battle.
“Brother Jeong, come at me,” Bu Eunseol said, swallowing his pain. “I’ll show you my finest swordsmanship.”
[Grr.]
Jeong Cheon groaned, gripping the chains. As if infused with energy, a sharp aura emanated from his broadsword’s tip.
[Kaa!]
With a loud cry, he thrust his broadsword forward.
Hundreds of blade energies scattered around Bu Eunseol.
‘This is…’ Bu Eunseol’s eyes widened.
Jeong Cheon was using the Seven Blood Tear Forms, specifically the fourth form, Desiring Death, No Place Found.
—“Even if you wish to die, you cannot find a place to die…”
It reflected Jeong Cheon’s current state.
Unable to find a place to die, he had wandered the martial world, ending up in this unknown underground city. But now, having met Bu Eunseol, he sought his final rest.
Swish!
The blade energies pouring toward Bu Eunseol were immensely powerful, sealing off all escape routes.
Flash!
Bu Eunseol used Swift Beyond Shadow to evade the onslaught.
But something astonishing happened.
Jeong Cheon’s blade energies didn’t dissipate—they followed him.
“No way,” Gongsun Dana gasped, watching from afar.
With a single blade technique, he had not only suspended countless blade energies in the air but made them pursue the enemy?
What kind of blade art was this?
‘This is…’
Bu Eunseol was also shocked.
Not because of the technique itself—he knew all the Seven Blood Tear Forms. But Jeong Cheon’s version felt the opposite of what Bu Eunseol had learned.
Bu Eunseol’s Seven Blood Tear Forms desperately yearned for his own death with each move.
Jeong Cheon’s, however, was designed to impose death on others.
Whoosh!
Hundreds of sword energies rose from Bu Eunseol’s body.
Seeing Jeong Cheon’s Desiring Death, No Place Found deepened his understanding of the fourth form’s essence.
Swish!
His sword energies, similar to Jeong Cheon’s but wider in scope, filled the air.
Desiring Death, No Place Found.
This desperate technique wasn’t about trapping and killing the enemy with terrifying blade energy.
‘It makes the entire battlefield a place of death, without distinguishing friend from foe.’
Jeong Cheon’s blade energy enveloped Bu Eunseol to ensure the enemy’s death. Bu Eunseol’s sword energy, poured over a ten-pace radius, imposed death indiscriminately.
As the two ultimate techniques clashed, a thunderous roar erupted, and dust rose into the sky.
Whoosh.
As a desolate wind cleared the dust, the two figures became visible.
Drip, drip, drip.
Blood flowed from Bu Eunseol’s body.
He couldn’t fully block Jeong Cheon’s blade energy, which had sealed all directions.
In contrast, Jeong Cheon’s body was unchanged.
Shudder.
But his eyes were dim, drained of vitality, and his body trembled lightly.
Desiring Death, No Place Found.
At its peak, it silenced all living beings within a hundred paces.
Its overwhelming blade energy had extinguished his life force.
One who sought another’s death.
One who brought death to all around him.
The stark contrast in their techniques produced opposing outcomes.
Upright.
Jeong Cheon stood tall, refusing to collapse weakly even as death loomed.
“It’s been a while…” he said.
A clear light shone in his eyes, a momentary clarity from the phenomenon of the final lucidity.
“Brother Jeong,” Bu Eunseol said.
“So the mercenary Seolso… was indeed the Martial Soul Command Lord who shakes the martial world,” Jeong Cheon said.
Astonishingly, he not only recognized Bu Eunseol instantly but knew Seolso was a false identity.
“I tracked your movements obsessively to face you again… and found out by chance,” he said, smiling faintly before asking, “That swordsmanship you used… that’s the true Seven Blood Tear Forms, isn’t it?”
He seemed to recall everything clearly.
“What happened?” Bu Eunseol asked.
Jeong Cheon smiled faintly.
“I made a foolish choice. In my haste to grow stronger.” Though he smiled, his eyes were filled with deep regret. “You became a young grandmaster shaking the martial world… while no matter how hard I tried, I achieved nothing.”
Bu Eunseol’s expression twisted in pain.
He understood instantly.
Jeong Cheon’s state was because of their duel.
His pride, believing he had no equal among the younger generation, couldn’t accept a draw.
“Brother Jeong,” Bu Eunseol said.
Jeong Cheon’s eyes were fading.
Knowing his life hung by a thread, Bu Eunseol asked carefully, “How did you learn the Seven Blood Tear Forms?”
Jeong Cheon’s version was slightly different from the original.
Bu Eunseol needed to know why.
“It was… inevitable,” Jeong Cheon murmured, his expression forlorn. “The downfall of one with great ambition but no ability.”
His eyes deepened, as if recalling a distant past.
***
Jeong Cheon had prided himself as unmatched among his peers.
But his duel with Bu Eunseol shocked him, wounding his pride.
To grow stronger, he left the Red Sky Veil to train.
Despite years of effort, he made little progress.
Meanwhile, Bu Eunseol became a young grandmaster, defeating the Bullet King and rising to the Four Gods and Seven Kings.
Jeong Cheon despaired.
He had once believed he’d become the greatest in the demonic path.
But was it just a frog-in-the-well delusion?
“What a pity,” a low voice said.
“There’s no need for someone your age to ruin your body with such training.”
A mysterious figure in black, face masked, watched Jeong Cheon train in a remote area near Mount Cheon. His voice was deep, suggesting he was over fifty.
“Mind your own business,” Jeong Cheon snapped, continuing his relentless sword practice.
The figure sighed, reminded of his own past, training obsessively after realizing his lack of talent.
“Let go of your shackles. Even the desire to grow stronger,” the figure said.
Swish!
With those words, he unleashed a blade technique toward Jeong Cheon.
Jeong Cheon froze, stunned.
It had no distinct form or shape, impossible to discern even with wide eyes.
It was death itself.
‘Such a blade art,’ Jeong Cheon thought, rubbing his eyes.
He had believed his lack was effort, not martial arts. But seeing the figure’s technique, he realized it was the martial art itself.
“If you can cast it aside… you might rise,” the figure said, turning away.
“Senior!” Jeong Cheon, snapping out of it, knelt and bowed. “Please take me as your disciple!”
Fearing rejection, he slammed his head to the ground, shouting, “If you leave, strike me down first!”
The figure sighed deeply.
He had meant to correct Jeong Cheon’s flawed training in a moment of impulse.
But he had stirred the young man’s heart instead.
“I’ve been on the run my whole life, unable to take disciples. However…”
Rustle.
He pulled a thin booklet from his robes and handed it to Jeong Cheon.
It contained two forms of a blade technique.
“I promised to pass this to a worthy young person,” the figure said with a heavy sigh. “If you can master these two forms, you could become a blade master dominating the martial world.”
Solemnly, he added, “Read it and burn it. Keeping it will bring calamity.”
“What’s this?” Jeong Cheon asked, opening the booklet.
“Seven Blood Tear Forms?”
His eyes widened in disbelief.
The booklet was the exclusive blade art of Bu Zhanyang, the legendary demonic blade master, the Seven-Finger Demon Blade. But it was heavily damaged, with only two forms legible.
New text had been added, as if the figure had restored the damaged parts.
“Why is it so damaged?” Jeong Cheon asked.
“It’s not damage. The forms were deliberately altered,” the figure sighed. “Otherwise, those with ordinary talent like us couldn’t wield it.”
As he turned to leave, Jeong Cheon asked, “Where are you going? If it’s alright, let me follow you.”
“I told you, I’m on the run,” the figure replied.
“Then let me help you,” Jeong Cheon insisted.
The figure smiled faintly. “He appears and vanishes like a ghost, like a demon immune to martial arts. Even a world-dominating force couldn’t help me.”
Jeong Cheon blinked.
Appearing like a ghost, immune to martial arts?
To evade someone with such a blade art?
He wanted to ask more, but the figure vanished with a movement technique.
‘With this blade art, it’s possible,’ Jeong Cheon thought.
Though only two forms, the Seven Blood Tear Forms could perfectly fill his shortcomings.
He relentlessly trained to master them. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t perfect them.
‘Is my talent so lacking?’
The figure had said the forms were altered for ordinary people. Jeong Cheon, once considered a prodigy by the Grass Sword Wanderer, couldn’t master even two forms?
‘Am I really this incapable?’
After a year of fruitless training, he despaired.
Then, “You must be his disciple,” another voice said.
Another figure, an old man in a mask with gleaming eyes, had found him.
“I can tell from the flawed Seven Blood Tear Forms you’re practicing.”
Jeong Cheon’s eyes widened.
The black-clad figure’s blade art had made his own seem like child’s play.
Yet it was called flawed?
“Who are you?” he asked.
The masked old man smiled faintly. “A pity. Not ripe enough to devour.”
His smile and gaze were like a lion savoring a rabbit. Jeong Cheon realized this old man was the ‘demon’ hunting the black-clad figure.
“Come at me,” he said, bravely drawing his sword.
Even if the old man was the King of Hell, he wouldn’t die sitting still.
“Hmm,” the old man said, studying the fire in Jeong Cheon’s eyes before nodding. “You desperately want to grow stronger, don’t you?”
Like the black-clad figure, he saw through Jeong Cheon’s desperation.
“Fine. I want to taste the true Seven Blood Tear Forms,” the old man said, making a strange offer. “I’ll help you master those forms.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your talent isn’t bad, but you met the wrong master. Clinging to outdated training methods is why you’re not improving.”
“What are you saying?”
“You don’t eat properly or rest. You can’t even assess your own flaws. Training alone in the wilderness is meaningless.”
“What do you want?”
“I’ll provide an environment, elixirs, and a mentor to perfect your blade art.”
Jeong Cheon was confused. The old man was clearly an enemy of the black-clad figure who taught him.
Why help him master the Seven Blood Tear Forms?
“Why help me?”
“I told you,” the old man said coldly. “I want to taste the true Seven Blood Tear Forms.”
He drew his sword like lightning.
Whoosh!
Terrifying blade energy poured toward Jeong Cheon.
It rivaled the black-clad figure’s, capable of shattering heaven and earth.
“You want to break the Seven Blood Tear Forms?” Jeong Cheon asked.
The old man scoffed. “Break? If I had fought Bu Zhanyang, he wouldn’t have been called the greatest demonic blade master.”
Star-like glints flashed in his eyes. “He’d have died by my hand.”
Jeong Cheon’s eyes widened.
The old man’s words weren’t empty.
His single technique matched the black-clad figure’s in power and intricacy.
“Unable to fight the Seven-Finger Demon Blade, you pursue those who wield his art to settle the score,” Jeong Cheon said.
“Exactly,” the old man replied.
“Why couldn’t you fight him? You seem to be of similar age.”
“That’s none of your business,” the old man said, his eyes narrowing. “Will you become prey worthy of my taste?”
In short, he saw Jeong Cheon’s talent and wanted to perfect his Seven Blood Tear Forms before defeating him.
“Fine,” Jeong Cheon said, taking a deep breath.
Though the old man’s skills were formidable, mastering the two forms could make him a match.
With burning eyes, he said, “I’ll follow you.”
From that day, Jeong Cheon followed the old man to an underground city deep in Gukok Mountain to train.
Countless elixirs enhanced his stamina and memory.
A figure called the ‘Emissary’ corrected his blade techniques.
A place and method to restore his body and spirit were provided.
“When you master the art, I’ll return,” the old man said with a sinister smile before leaving. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Jeong Cheon ignored his words.
The place was perfect for training.
He immediately resumed practicing the two forms. But mastering the Seven-Finger Demon Blade’s true art was no easy task.
It required fearlessness, equating life and death, supreme intellect, and an unyielding spirit.
“Damn it!”
Boom!
As time passed, Jeong Cheon despaired. Even in such an environment, he couldn’t master the forms.
Was he not even a frog in a well, but a mere insect?
Realizing mastering the Seven Blood Tear Forms was impossible, he writhed in despair.
[Drink this.] The Emissary, who had been guiding him, handed him a bottle of red liquid. [This will give you tireless stamina and increase your inner energy the more you drink.]
“I’ve taken enough elixirs,” Jeong Cheon said.
[This isn’t an ordinary elixir. You know that, don’t you?]
Jeong Cheon had realized this underground city cultivated Human Flowers and conducted bizarre experiments.
But by then, consumed by despair, he no longer cared.
[Drinking this will let you surpass your limits. The downside is potential addiction and loss of sanity.]
“You mean becoming a puppet,” Jeong Cheon said.
[Yes. Our faction is researching to mitigate those side effects.]
“So I’d be an experiment too.”
The Emissary placed the bottle on the table and turned away.
[I won’t force you.]
Jeong Cheon stared at the bottle blankly. The red liquid was brewed from Human Flowers, made from human vital blood. Drinking it would likely turn him into a mindless puppet.
He knew he shouldn’t succumb to the temptation.
But deep despair and the desire to grow stronger dominated his mind.
Gulp.
He drank the red liquid in one go.
Unable to resist, he made a deal with the devil.
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