“It seems they’re not the remnants of the Thousand Swords Society, but mere wandering mercenaries.”
Yang Daeryang observed the three hundred martial artists and let out a faint smirk.
“Did the disciples not step forward? Afraid of dying like dogs?”
Yoo Hwaryeong could not utter a word in response.
In truth, all the senior and junior brothers of the Thousand Swords Society had opposed revenge. They only wished to live comfortably off the Assembly’s remaining wealth.
But Yoo Hwaryeong could not accept that.
That was why he, even if alone, had resolved to kill Yang Daeryang.
He had bribed third-rate mercenaries, taught them the Heart Prison Formation, and deployed it.
This was the only way he could achieve mutual destruction with Yang Daeryang and if, within the formation, the mercenaries overheard Yang Daeryang admitting his crimes while speaking to him?
Then three hundred witnesses would exist who had heard Yang Daeryang confess to destroying the Thousand Swords Society.
Yet Yang Daeryang never once spoke words that acknowledged guilt.
Instead, he instantly identified the formation’s weakness and shattered it.
“Retreat!”
Facing the murderous gleam in Yang Daeryang’s eyes, the three hundred mercenaries immediately turned and began to flee.
Swish! Shhhhhhhhk!
But escape was nothing more than a vain hope.
Yang Daeryang unleashed the Immortal Thread Finger Art, striking down the fleeing mercenaries one by one.
“Did you truly believe you could snipe this Commander and return unscathed?” Moving like a ghost, Yang Daeryang snorted. “If Thousand Swords Society disciples had come, it might have been somewhat entertaining. But this… it’s yawn-inducing.”
The Thousand Swords Society had been founded by outstanding swordsmen, so its disciples’ skills were among the finest in the martial world.
However, after the Sect Leader and the Ten Seats perished, the surviving disciples ceased training in martial arts.
They constantly bickered among themselves.
In the end, the ones Yoo Hwaryeong had brought were merely third-rate martial artists, and Yang Daeryang, dispatching them, even felt boredom.
“I suppose I should take this chance to wipe out the Thousand Swords Society once and for all.” Yang Daeryang muttered in a low voice. “It feels like it’ll become a future problem otherwise.”
The new Sect Leader, Yoo Hwaryeong, had led mercenaries in a surprise attack against him.
That alone gave him sufficient justification to exterminate the entire Society.
‘Evade!’
Trembling in fear, the mercenaries swiftly employed their movement techniques.
Yet Yang Daeryang, with movement as swift as lightning, severed the throats of the fleeing mercenaries.
Crack! Thud!
Each time his fingers moved, mercenaries' heads exploded or limbs flew off.
Battles are usually fought in a state of excitement, where one forgets fear and terror to fight for survival but having witnessed Yang Daeryang’s terrifying martial prowess, the mercenaries fell instead into panic and confusion, unable to do anything.
Whoosh! Whooooosh!
Yang Daeryang’s fingers continuously traced large circles in the air.
Thud.
In less than a quarter-hour, the mountainside was shrouded in dust and mist, surrounded by a river of blood and a sea of corpses.
All three hundred mercenaries had perished by Yang Daeryang’s hand.
In the end, only Yoo Hwaryeong remained as the last man standing.
Unyielding, he continued pouring attacks at Yang Daeryang.
Thump!
But struck by Yang Daeryang’s finger force, Yoo Hwaryeong was hurled dozens of zhang backward, collapsing in an unsightly heap.
“Relying solely on a formation—how admirable.”
Yang Daeryang looked down at the fallen Yoo Hwaryeong and shook his head.
“Then, reflect deeply.”
He did not kill Yoo Hwaryeong for two reasons:
First, to shift the responsibility for the mercenaries' deaths onto him.
Living with painful memories was far more agonizing than death.
Second, keeping him alive would make exterminating the Thousand Swords Society easier.
Step, step.
As he turned to leave, Yoo Hwaryeong’s voice rang out from behind.
“Wait.”
When Yang Daeryang turned back, Yoo Hwaryeong was glaring at him, gripping his sword with one hand.
“You lack even the confidence to live, it seems.”
Contempt poured from Yang Daeryang’s eyes.
“In the end, you don’t even have the courage to take your own life.”
“I never intended to live from the beginning.” Yoo Hwaryeong said, eyes raised defiantly. “I already anticipated the possibility that the Heart Prison Formation might fail.”
“And?”
“On my way here, I swore an oath. I would offer this body of mine to avenge the sect’s grudge and take revenge for my master!”
At Yoo Hwaryeong’s words, Yang Daeryang smirked.
“Is that so? Impressive.”
“Yang Daeryang! Do you think everything in this world will go your way?”
Yoo Hwaryeong channeled energy into the long sword he gripped.
A faint white radiance swirled in all directions.
He had become Sect Leader not because of a gentle personality or wide connections.
It was merely late blooming.
Among the Thousand Swords Society disciples, he possessed by far the greatest martial talent.
Had the Assembly operated normally and if he had focused solely on training without being burdened by other matters?
Yoo Hwaryeong would have become a swordsman dominating the martial world.
“Die!”
In an instant, white lightning surged from Yoo Hwaryeong’s treasured sword.
Flash!
The swift flash pierced toward Yang Daeryang’s throat in the blink of an eye.
“Hmph.”
As if he had already predicted the sword path and its speed completely, Yang Daeryang stepped back once.
With just that, he easily evaded the strike.
Crack!
Yet something strange occurred.
The tip of Yoo Hwaryeong’s swiftly extended sword broke off, did it not?
Flash!
The broken tip formed another streak of lightning, piercing toward Yang Daeryang’s heart.
Seven Forms of the Severed Sword.
Created in his later years by Woo Hak, master of swift swords.
It was an extraordinary sword art ingeniously combining severed-sword techniques with swift-sword techniques.
Thud, thud.
In the end, the sharp broken tip was deeply embedded in Yang Daeryang’s left chest, and blood flowed from the two fingers gripping it.
“How’s that?” Yoo Hwaryeong smiled confidently.
This Seven Forms of the Severed Sword was an unpredictable extraordinary sword art.
If the preceding form, Silver Flash Blood Severing Form, missed, it used the combined power of speed and internal energy to break the sword tip and instantly pierce a different vital point.
“Heh heh heh.” Yang Daeryang, holding the sword fragment embedded near his heart, let out a low laugh. “An unusual sword form.”
He lifted the piece of sword tip pinched between two fingers.
Upon closer look, the fragment had been stopped by his fingers, causing only a flesh wound.
It had failed to pierce his heart.
Immortal Thread Finger Art.
The greatest weapon under heaven, the most miraculous two fingers in the martial world, had easily blocked even Yoo Hwaryeong’s sudden Seven Forms of the Severed Sword.
“The Thousand Swords Society always collects miscellaneous techniques and creates bizarre sword arts. Is that your tradition?”
Thud.
Yang Daeryang tossed the sword fragment to the ground and wore a peculiar smile.
“If you have another hidden trump card, feel free to use it.”
Instead of answering, Yoo Hwaryeong immediately unleashed the Seven Forms of the Severed Sword repeatedly.
The Seven Forms could break the sword tip into seven pieces, each move infinitely varied.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Each time Yoo Hwaryeong executed the form, the blade broke and shot forward.
But Yang Daeryang stood calmly, catching each piece one by one with only his middle and index fingers.
Even this ultimate swift sword art combining swift-sword and severed-sword techniques was, in Yang Daeryang’s eyes, merely an amusing and unique sword style.
“Nothing else?”
Thud.
Tossing the final captured fragment, Yang Daeryang tilted his head.
The treasured sword Yoo Hwaryeong held now had only its hilt remaining.
Even after fully executing the Seven Forms of the Severed Sword, he had not touched a single hair on Yang Daeryang.
“I suppose that’s all.”
Yang Daeryang extended his fingers.
Those two fingers could be called the most fearsome weapon under heaven. If the swirling energy at their tips merely grazed him, Yoo Hwaryeong’s neck would fall in an instant.
Yet Yoo Hwaryeong’s expression did not change.
Even knowing his neck would soon drop, he glared with a dignified face.
It could be called the spirit of a man unafraid of death.
“That old man raised at least one disciple properly.”
Step, step.
Yang Daeryang approached closely.
Maybe impressed by Yoo Hwaryeong’s spirit?
He passed by slowly without using his hand.
“Kill me! Even if you spare me, I’ll come to kill you again!”
At Yoo Hwaryeong’s shout, Yang Daeryang stopped and turned back.
Then, baring his fangs, he wore an utterly malevolent smile.
“Who said I was sparing you?”
Splurt!
At that moment, two holes appeared in Yoo Hwaryeong’s lower abdomen, and crimson blood gushed nearly a zhang high.
As he passed by, Yang Daeryang had used the Immortal Thread Finger to pierce two holes in Yoo Hwaryeong’s dantian.
Because the strike was so swift and fast, Yoo Hwaryeong’s body only registered the holes much later, now pouring out blood profusely.
Hiss.
As blood and circulating internal energy escaped, Yoo Hwaryeong’s body trembled violently.
The pain of a destroyed dantian and scattering internal energy was enough to make even seasoned martial artists scream and wail.
Yet Yoo Hwaryeong kept his eyes wide open, enduring the agony to the end.
“Hmm.”
Seeing Yoo Hwaryeong’s superhuman endurance, Yang Daeryang nodded.
“If you don’t scream this time, I’ll consider it my loss.”
He raised his index and middle fingers toward the sky.
Rip.
Then the skin of Yoo Hwaryeong’s right arm began slowly peeling from the shoulder.
Using the Immortal Thread Finger, he poured sharp energy to tear away the skin and muscle of the entire right arm.
“Urrgh… Arghhh!”
In the end, Yoo Hwaryeong could not endure the pain and began screaming.
The agony was so intense that each time he writhed, strands of his hair turned white.
“Urrgh…”
Finally, Yoo Hwaryeong’s once-proud eyes were stained with pain.
He realized:
If he showed no fear, this demon-like man would inflict endless suffering worse than death.
“Good. Since you’ve seen through this Commander’s intentions, I won’t kill you.”
Only then did Yang Daeryang nod with a satisfied expression.
“Train in left-handed swordsmanship. If you stand before me again, I’ll entertain you once more.”
Though he said that, Yang Daeryang was certain it would never happen.
Because Yoo Hwaryeong’s body was already gripped by terror, incapable of opposing him.
Even if he mastered left-handed swordsmanship, even if by chance he achieved tremendous martial prowess, he would never appear before him again.
Smiling faintly, Yang Daeryang turned and slowly descended Geumjeong Mountain.
Yoo Hwaryeong stood like a scarecrow, face blank, blood streaming down.
He needed to staunch the bleeding quickly, but with his energy gone and pain overwhelming, he could not move a single finger.
At this rate, forget revenge—he would lose his life to blood loss.
Drip, drip, drip.
Yoo Hwaryeong lowered his head.
‘I have no more regrets.’
He had done his best.
Not a single day had passed without thinking of revenge, and he had striven ceaselessly toward it.
Though Yang Daeryang’s martial arts proved too strong and he failed… no lingering attachment remained.
‘This is enough.’
Yoo Hwaryeong slowly closed his eyes.
With the last of his strength, he tried to sever his heart meridians to end this pain-filled life.
Boom!
Yet far in the night sky, purple lightning flashed.
Why would lightning strike on a quiet moonlit night without rain?
Could lightning of such vivid purple exist in this world?
Yoo Hwaryeong thought it strange.
‘What does it matter.’
He gathered all his remaining strength to sever his heart meridians.
‘Tch.’
But having lost too much blood, he could muster no strength at all.
Thud.
In the end, he lost consciousness.
***
Chirp, chirp, chirp.
Birdsong somewhere tickled his ears.
Yoo Hwaryeong was dreaming of his childhood.
His master, Woo Hak, had raised him like his own son.
After training in swordsmanship, he would personally prepare meals, and sometimes take him to the marketplace to buy delicious snacks.
Yoo Hwaryeong did not care much for swordsmanship.
He was content simply to remain long at the Thousand Swords Society with his master.
But the warm nest that was the Thousand Swords Society collapsed because of a demon-like fiend.
The master who barely survived, together with Seok Song, shed tears of blood creating sword techniques for revenge. Yoo Hwaryeong wished to exact vengeance upon the demon who destroyed his home and shattered the peaceful Thousand Swords Society.
Yet in the end, he failed to achieve it and breathed his last.
It was lamentable.
He had no face to meet his master in the afterlife.
With a heart-rending pain, Yoo Hwaryeong opened his eyes.
“Ugh.”
The moment he awoke, a thick medicinal scent filled his nose.
Turning his head, he saw white incense burning in a large censer.
Though mixed with medicinal fragrance, each breath seemed to ease the tearing pain in his chest.
It was likely a medicinal incense meant to relieve pain.
‘Where am I?’
Trying to rise, tearing agony struck his lower abdomen and right arm. Looking down, he wore clean clothes, and his lower abdomen and right arm were firmly wrapped in clean bandages.
“How…”
Rising from the bed, Yoo Hwaryeong blinked in confusion.
He had certainly been dying with his dantian pierced, his right arm skinned whole, reduced to a cripple, yet now, though pain remained, the arm’s skin was perfectly reattached, with no issue in blood circulation.
And his dantian…
“It’s not destroyed?”
Yoo Hwaryeong’s eyes widened.
Clearly, his lower dantian had been shattered, internal energy leaking out.
How could the dantian be intact?
‘Urgh.’
When he tried to circulate energy, tearing pain surged from his lower abdomen.
Thud.
The immense pain forced him to collapse, clutching the bed.
Though the dantian was intact, his internal energy level remained only about half of what it was before.
Moreover, circulating energy brought pain as if the lower dantian were falling apart.
Click.
The door opened, and a girl in gorgeous attire entered, followed by a young woman who appeared to be a maid.
“You’re awake.”
The gorgeously dressed girl blinked large eyes at Yoo Hwaryeong and asked,
“How is your body?”
Yoo Hwaryeong wore a dazed expression.
Though her appearance was that of a teenage girl, her gentle speech and benevolent gaze resembled a refined middle-aged beauty in her fifties.
“W-well… my lower abdomen hurts a bit.”
Greatly flustered, Yoo Hwaryeong stammered, then looked down at his abdomen.
Something felt damp.
Drip, drip, drip.
Fresh red blood had already soaked the white bandage.
“Oh dear, you used internal energy already.”
The girl immediately assessed the situation and spoke to the woman standing behind her.
“Contact the Lord of Bright Flower Pavilion and have two Herb Pills dissolved in hot water for him to take. Change the bandages as well.”
“Yes, Palace Lord.”
As the woman replied and turned to leave, Yoo Hwaryeong clasped his hands together.
“I am Yoo Hwaryeong, current Sect Leader of the Thousand Swords Society.”
Looking at the girl, he glanced around with an awkward expression and asked, “Where exactly is this place?”
“I suppose greetings are overdue.”
The girl offered a calm smile and returned the courtesy.
“I am Palace Lord Hwa Mi.”
“Palace Lord?”
Yoo Hwaryeong frowned.
How could such a young girl be the lord of a palace?
“And this place is the Azure Cloud Sea Palace.”
“The Azure… Cloud Sea Palace?”
Yoo Hwaryeong’s eyes widened.
He too had heard tales of the legendary sect in the western regions, the Azure Cloud Sea Palace.
He had collapsed dying on Geumjeong Mountain. How could he awaken in the Azure Cloud Sea Palace, thousands of li away?
“How…”
As Yoo Hwaryeong gaped, Palace Lord Hwa Mi spoke in a low voice.
“The Martial Soul Command Lord carried you here.”
“The Martial Soul Command Lord… Bu Eunseol?”
Yoo Hwaryeong’s mouth fell open.
When Bu Eunseol would have received the letter, Yoo Hwaryeong was already dying on Geumjeong Mountain from Yang Daeryang’s Immortal Thread Finger Art.
How could he have rescued him?
“The Command Lord’s qinggong has reached a level few top experts in the martial world can match.”
As if guessing Yoo Hwaryeong’s frustrated thoughts, Palace Lord Hwa Mi began explaining in detail.
“The moment he received the letter, the Command Lord mobilized the intelligence network to locate Sect Leader Yoo. When he arrived at Geumjeong Mountain, you were said to be on the verge of death.”
In the past, Bu Eunseol would not have found Yoo Hwaryeong so quickly but now, the top agents of the Martial Alliance’s Supreme Branch were combined with the Death Spirit Corps’ intelligence network.
Acting on Bu Eunseol’s orders, they searched not for Yoo Hwaryeong’s whereabouts, but for the Heaven-Piercing Division Commander’s movements.
Even if Yoo Hwaryeong’s trail was untraceable, they judged that, with luck, the Martial Alliance intelligence could locate the Heaven-Piercing Division Commander.
Fortunately, his judgment proved correct, allowing him to rescue Yoo Hwaryeong in time.
“He then fed you the Potential Demon Divine Pellet and Blue Spirit Stone Elixir to immediately restore your body and brought you here.”
“Blue Spirit Stone Elixir…”
Yoo Hwaryeong’s mouth fell open once more.
He did not know the Potential Demon Divine Pellet, but Blue Spirit Stone Elixir was a rare miraculous treasure in the mortal world.
How had he obtained and fed it to him?
“The Command Lord spent millions of nyang to prepare in advance the Blue Spirit Stone Elixir and the Soul-Returning Divine Pellet made from this palace’s sacred herbs.”
Palace Lord Hwa Mi wore a quiet smile.
“He said he would never let his subordinates lose their lives.”
Yoo Hwaryeong lowered his head in shame.
He had sent the letter merely to entrust the future of the Thousand Swords Society…
Yet the moment Bu Eunseol received it, he frantically searched for him and ultimately saved his life.
“I never meant to burden him by contacting him.”
Yoo Hwaryeong wore a regretful expression.
When his master Woo Hak and the Second Seat Seok Song both passed away, the people of the Thousand Swords Society turned away from revenge.
They sought only their own safety. Even his fellow disciples abandoned him.
Yet the demonic faction’s Bu Eunseol alone risked his life to come running for his sake.
“Where is he now?”
At Yoo Hwaryeong’s question, Palace Lord Hwa Mi drew a letter from her bosom.
“He has already returned to the Central Plains. He asked me to deliver this.”
Yoo Hwaryeong hurriedly took the letter and read it.
Drip, drip, drip.
Blood flowed from his mouth as he read.
Because the letter contained utterly shocking truths.
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