Chapter 1667 - Because There Will Be A Future (2)

"Thwap!"

On a steep slope, the swordsmen of the Wudang Sect, dressed in black and white martial robes, ran like flying squirrels.

"There they are!"

"Cut them all down!"

Swish!

The swords, tinged with a faint red hue from the setting sun, shot towards the bodies of the Evil Sect disciples climbing the slope.

"Argh!"

The Evil Sect disciples, their bodies scorched and distorted, screamed as they swung their weapons at the incoming swords. They believed their sturdy swords would easily break those thin blades in a single strike.

In reality, even an ordinary iron sword, without any sword energy, can be a fearsome weapon to commoners but poses no threat to those skilled in martial arts. Thus, the confidence of the Evil Sect disciples wasn't entirely unfounded.

Whoosh!

Especially considering their heavy broadswords weighed fifty jin, they were confident that their weapons would easily cleave the slender iron swords in two.

'I'll show these scholars what we're made of!'

This strong conviction might have been due to their vast experience. They had already mocked Wudang along the Yangtze River. Even here, in the heart of Wudang, they had pushed the pathetic Taoists to the brink.

In the past, the name "Wudang" might have made them tremble, but not anymore. They had already erased Qingcheng and Emei, defeated Shaolin, Peng Clan, and Kongtong. To the Evil Sect, the name Wudang was no longer as fearsome as it once was.

They believed they could face them and defeat them. Their past experiences had proven this.

This firm belief was shattered the moment their weapons collided. A sharp, grating sound pierced their ears.

Clang!

'Huh?'

In that instant, the Evil Sect disciple sensed something was wrong. The sound itself was strange. No matter how little sword energy was used, when iron weapons collided at such speed, the sound shouldn't be like a needle scratching metal.

'What...?'

The next oddity was his own broadsword. Instead of shattering the sword and embedding itself in the Taoist's body, the broadsword was veering off course in a bizarre direction.

What was even stranger was that the wielder didn't feel any resistance. He was still holding the sword firmly, but he couldn't control its movement. It was as if it was naturally cutting through empty air.

Such strange sights unfolded repeatedly before their eyes.

'What, how...?'

But the Evil Sect disciple couldn't think further. A sharp sword was flying towards his neck, and in such a situation, one doesn't have the luxury to think.

"A ghost, a ghost...."

The sword wasn't even that fast. It smoothly cut through his neck, with a clean and seamless motion, leaving no chance to dodge.

Slash!

Had it not been for the chilling sensation in his neck, he might not have even realized that the sword carried deadly intent.

It was a light and smooth sword strike, as gentle as a leaf brushing past, but the result was horrific.

The Evil Sect disciple collapsed on the spot without even a groan. Even in that moment, he didn't understand what had happened.

This was different from the 'strength' they knew. The ultimate sword strikes they were familiar with were like thunder splitting the sky or earthquakes splitting mountains. But the sword of the Wudang swordsman surpassed those by a considerable margin.

'This... this is Wudang....'

In his final moments, the Evil Sect disciple finally understood. He was facing the sword of Wudang, which rules the world.

Conquering with softness. That was Wudang's sword and the secret behind its reputation as the world's best sword school.

Slash! Slash!

Similar scenes unfolded everywhere. The soft, flowing swords of Wudang cut through the bodies of the Evil Sect disciples, who were desperately climbing the cliff with their menacing weapons.

"Ugh!"

"Argh!"

Namgung conquers the world with dominance, and Mount Hua mocks the world with illusion. But Wudang simply exists in harmony with the world through softness.

"Dammit! These bastards...!"

One Evil Sect disciple, gritting his teeth, swung his broadsword at the neck of a Wudang swordsman. But immediately, Wudang's flexible Song Mun-Go sword intercepted the broadsword.

Tack!

Like a butterfly touching and then leaving the broadsword, the Song Mun-Go sword lightly tapped the side of the broadsword.

A circle formed. The gently swimming Song Mun-Go sword endlessly drew circles in the air. Pushing, pulling, caressing.

In that brief moment of numerous intersecting forces of attraction and repulsion, the direction of the oncoming broadsword was reversed.

"What!"

As if struck by lightning, the large sword that had been extending suddenly reversed its direction while preserving its power and speed. The owner of the sword blinked in disbelief at the scene before him. In an attempt to evade harm, he swiftly turned his neck to the side.

Swish!

His beloved sword sliced through the air, barely grazing past his neck. Blood gushed forth towards the neck, and the shaman's pine-patterned sword flew towards the man's neck.

"What... how could...?"

Thud!

With a sound as light as cutting through silk with one's hand, the shaman's sword, engraved with pine patterns, pierced through the man's neck. Before he could fully comprehend the cold metal piercing his throat, his lifeless body slumped down, blood trickling out.

"No...!"

The disciples roared fiercely, charging towards the shaman's swordsmen. They aimed to thrust bayonets into the body of the one wielding that ghostly sword before it could be drawn out.

But at that moment.

Thwack!

With a sound reminiscent of drumming on leather, the body that had been pierced through the neck flew like a cannonball towards them.

"Whoa!"

As the body flew towards them, everyone involuntarily gasped in surprise. There seemed to be no intermediate process; to propel a body like that required grabbing it and exerting force, yet just moments ago, the body appeared in front of them as if propelled through space.

"Do we... do we need to fight?"

That split-second delay caused a momentary lapse in judgment. And the shaman's sword did not miss this opportunity.

Whump!

Gradually, from behind the body that had flown, the sword glided smoothly through the air like birch leaves in spring sunshine, effortlessly piercing the heart of the disciple.

"Guh..."

As the sword plunged into his heart, the disciple quickly let go of the sword he was holding with all his might and collapsed.

Although thick blood gushed from his mouth, his eyes were filled with a fierce determination. It was the venomous spirit's final effort to inject strength into his fatally wounded body.

"Dieee!"

Seizing this moment, a member of the Evil Tyrant Alliance hurled his sword at the head of the shaman's swordsmen with all his might.

Kwaaaah!

The mere force of his attack was enough to flatten grass and send sand flying. Even if it were a head made of flesh and blood, it was clear to the eye what would happen without seeing it.

But rather than forcibly blocking with his sword, the shaman's swordsman leisurely raised his empty left hand. It seemed as futile as a magpie lifting its front leg in front of a charging carriage.

At that moment.

Whirl.

The shaman's swordsman's hand drew a small circle in the air.

Continuing to cut and cut, the tense tension that seemed to continue forever as the overlapping spiral shapes drew a shape that seemed to be forever in front of the flying sword. Every time one circle rotated and collapsed, the terrifying blade that had been on the wide sword gradually worn down. Of course, the circle drawn in the air faded without any strength, but when one circle collapsed, another circle was born, so it was a face-to-face effect.

And finally, when the large sword reached the head of the shaman's swordsman, the hand grasped the sword lightly.

Seeing the amazing sight that was hard to believe, the disciples of the Evil Tyrant Alliance were standing there with their mouths open without knowing it.

Kwooong!

After a while, his body spun around in the air and fell on the ground helpless. When his back touched the ground, blood came out of his mouth with a click.

It was impossible to think of a conclusion other than death. What he could afford to do with his body withstanding the battlefields for decades, and also ending the life of the disciple who ruled like a warrior.

It was such a sight that the disciples of the Evil Tyrant Alliance who rushed to process were somewhat hesitant and guarded against the swordsman.

Those who followed behind and climbed the cliff also subtly closed their mouths with a grim atmosphere without knowing the answer to cry.

"Hoo."

The shaman's swordsman breathed a short sigh.

He drew out the sword that had been stuck in the enemy's heart and gently moved it to get rid of the blood. The gaze of the Evil Tyrant Alliance disciples was as calm as that.

"Are you really that shallow? Didn't the ignorance of the shaman's martial arts look so ridiculous?"

The sword contains softness.

The hand contains unwavering determination.

Flowing water always seems to be about to cut off, but the end is always beyond the eyes. Sometimes it contains softness to tickle the hands of children, and sometimes it contains the power to turn mountains upside down.

The shaman's martial arts just want to resemble that water.

"What are you doing! Cover it up!"

The disciples of the Evil Tyrant Alliance, who belatedly woke up, shouted more fiercely than before.

Fueled not by rage at his comrades' deaths or sudden temperament, but by the feeling of being compressed. It was an instinctive shout to urge himself forward and push those standing beside him. Those who knew from experience that once caught in the flow, they would taste hell.

"Kill them all!"

The shaman's inspection of the sword was calm even in the face of such rough aggression.

"No one shall pass here."

With the flow of water contained within, the shaman's true energy was directed towards the tyrants of the Evil Tyrant Alliance.

"This is not the Yangtze River but a shaman. Let's make that clear."

The wounded Soongmungok sword resonated as if in agreement with those words.

"What are you muttering?"

A slight cruel smile appeared at the corner of Jinhyun's mouth.

"And today, it's you who will be hunted down right here."

Crack!

In that moment, someone leaped up from behind Jinhyun like a swallow.

The shaman's inspectors who stood ahead of Jinhyun's head barely managed to boost morale again above the heads of the Tyrant Alliance.

Seuk! Seuk! Seuk!

Like water, smoothly swinging swords drew red lines across the bodies of the Tyrant Alliance, each one fatal.

"Aaaah!"

"Aaaah!"

Desperate screams and the sounds of flesh being cut mixed with the massive roar of fire raging below.

"Don't underestimate us! We are the world's best swordsmen, the shaman's inspectors!"

For this one phrase, they had endured until now, until this moment.

Jinhyun firmly grasped his sword and charged forward.

"I am not a coward!"

In his eyes, blood and swords overflowed with ambition.

They were eyes that did not even notice the darkness falling behind them.