Chapter 1748. You can think of it as venting my anger (3)

At that moment.

"A-Amitabha..."

A groan like a sigh escaped Hye Yeon's lips.

'What is that?'

Seeing the thin tendrils protruding from the wounds of the blood cultist and flailing about was unbelievable even as he witnessed it.

A beast? No, it felt closer to an insect.

But how could something like that come out of a human body?

'No, more than that...'

The place where the tendrils were emerging was where his fist had struck. The blackened dead flesh was regaining its color with the writhing of those worm-like tendrils.

What kind of sorcery is this?

No matter how vast the world is and how many bizarre and grotesque sorceries exist beyond his knowledge, this far surpassed any martial arts common sense he knew.

"Amitabha. Amitabha!"

He chanted the Buddha's name several times to steady his shaking heart.

"Keuh..."

In the meantime, the problematic blood cultist slowly wiped the blood trickling down from his lips and approached Hye Yeon. Hye Yeon unknowingly took a step back.

"Kahahaahaa!"

The low groan of the blood cultist turned into a wild scream. With bloodthirsty energy, the blood cultist charged.

Hye Yeon bit his lips tightly.

* * *

"What, what is that?"

The situation was not much different elsewhere.

Jo Geol's eyes were filled with shock. He had cut off an arm, but it was reattaching itself.

"Damn it..."

Jo Geol clamped his mouth shut.

The sight of tendrils reattaching the arm was so grotesque that even the usually brave Jo Geol let out a groan. A visceral revulsion welled up inside him.

'The cut-off parts are reattaching?'

It wasn't just the arm. From the deeply slashed side, those grotesque tendrils were wriggling. Every time he cut, they reattached, so how was he supposed to deal with such foes?

"No..."

"Stay calm."

At that moment, Yoo Iseol's cool voice pierced his ears.

"Sago, but..."

"Sorcery is vast and boundless. There's so much we don't know."

He couldn't help but agree with that. He had never seen nor heard of such a thing in his life.

"But it's simple. The solution."

"What?"

Yoo Iseol raised his straight sword.

"No one can continue using sorcery if their head is severed."

"...Wouldn't they guard their necks, if they're not fools?"

"Restrain their limbs. You do that. I'll sever the head."

Jo Geol unknowingly shook his head. Just listening to her, one could misunderstand and think they were from the evil sect.

"...I don't know if I'm foolish or if Sago is too smart."

Jo Geol let out a light chuckle.

Honestly, the method didn't matter. It was remarkable that she wasn't shaken at all in the face of such a sight. At times like this, Yoo Iseol was more reliable than anyone else in Mount Hua.

"That's because we're together... What about those who went alone? It could be dangerous."

"Obviously."

Jo Geol nodded in agreement again.

Yes, what other way was there? They had to clean up this place as quickly as possible and go support the others.

"Then let's start."

"Go."

"Alright!"

Jo Geol pushed off the ground with all his strength and rushed forward.

* * *

Sweat trickled down Yoon Jong's jaw.

'The neck was severed.'

But it was getting up. The severed neck was reattaching.

What should he call this? Healing? Or regeneration?

Whatever it was, it shouldn't happen to humans. That much was certain.

Of course, martial arts itself strengthens the human body and grants powers beyond ordinary humans. From a common person's perspective, whether it's someone reattaching severed limbs or someone collapsing a mountain with a single sword strike, it's hard to say which is more bizarre.

But even knowing this, Yoon Jong felt a surge of fear. Perhaps it was because the principles he had known were collapsing. People instinctively fear what they don't understand.

Yoon Jong tried to suppress his fear. But before he could fully calm himself, the enemies moved first.

"Looks like you're scared," a blood cultist said, approaching smugly with blood dripping from his mouth. "How foolish. You should be grateful to witness such a miracle, yet you feel fear instead."

Yoon Jong's senses briefly focused on the back. The blood cultist who had risen like a puppet had not yet regained his wits. The one standing behind him had nearly lost his head. It seemed the recovery speed varied depending on the severity of the injuries.

But the problem was that he couldn't completely ignore the ones in the back. He couldn't accurately predict when they would recover.

'Damn it.'

Yoon Jong suddenly felt the absence of Jo Geol acutely. If only that guy were here, they wouldn't be surrounded like this...

"Waiting for reinforcements? Doesn't seem like anyone's coming," the blood cultist taunted.

"..."

"Where's that initial bravado? This is why people like you disgust me. So arrogant when you're in a group, but so pitiful when alone."

Yoon Jong's tightly closed lips pressed harder.

It was an obvious provocation. He wouldn't fall for it. But those words still stung deeply.

'I'm not scared.'

If it were Yoo Iseol, she would have attacked again without hesitation. Tang Soso would have analyzed the situation calmly. Cheong Myeong? That guy wouldn't have allowed this situation to arise in the first place.

But what did Yoon Jong have?

He had known for some time now that he was falling behind the others. Realistically, his role was mostly to clean up and support Jo Geol's reckless actions.

That's why those words hurt so much.

'But still...!'

The blood cultist lunged at him.

"Die!"

Yoon Jong instinctively started to step back but then bit his lip in realization. There were enemies behind him too. He couldn't forget that.

'Stay calm!'

The wounds had merely healed. It wasn't hopeless. The opponent's skills weren't extraordinary. He just needed to cut them again.

As the enemy charged wildly, swinging his arms, Yoon Jong thrust his sword. The lightning-fast sword aimed for the enemy's neck.

It was a textbook move. But because it was so textbook, it was also the most dangerous.

Yet, as he fully drew his sword, Yoon Jong's eyes widened in realization of his mistake.

Bam!

Yoon Jong's body was thrown to the side.

"Uuurghh."

A gurgling sound came from his throat.

Yoon Jong's sword had accurately pierced the masked man's neck. By all logic, the person should have died before being able to attack.

But the blood cultist, despite having his neck pierced, had struck Yoon Jong's side.

"Ugh!"

Yoon Jong tumbled and coughed violently.

The intense pain felt as if all his ribs had shattered. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

'Damn it...'

Yoon Jong hadn't been foolish.

That's the way martial arts is. At the intersection where life and death are decided in an instant, thinking is meaningless. Martial arts is about training the body to move before the mind can think, through countless repetitions of the same actions.

Targeting the enemy's neck in response to an attack was almost instinctual. It was a habit Yoon Jong had forced himself to develop over time.

But the habit that had saved him countless times had become a hindrance at this moment.

"Huuft."

Yoon Jong gasped for breath and clenched his teeth.

From the blood cultist's gaping neck, grotesque tendrils writhed and squirmed. The hole was gradually closing.

The new flesh wasn't normal. It was a dark, bark-like color instead of the usual red. But regardless, the wound was healing again.

'This isn't going to work...'

Yoon Jong paused for a moment. His eyes gradually settled into a deep calm.

- It's impossible, Sasuk!

He had shouted that day. But Baek Cheon hadn't looked back.

Yoon Jong thought as he took a deep breath.

What would Baek Cheon have done in this situation?

He would have first planted his feet firmly. To prevent his weak resolve from manifesting as trembling. Believing that his confidently spread shoulders would give him strength.

'There must be a way.'

If there weren't, those Blood Palace bastards wouldn't have remained hidden outside.

Moreover, that wasn't all. Yoon Jong had already witnessed the sight of them retreating. If their bodies could regenerate infinitely, they would never have retreated like that...

'Wait.'

Yoon Jong paused again, recalling the time when the Blood Cult had confronted Cheong Myeong.

'What did that guy say as he retreated?'

It was clear that Cheong Myeong's sword...

"Ha!"

Before he could finish his thought, the enemies charged at him with their eyes wide open. Yoon Jong reflexively pushed off the ground and leaped back.

'Immortal qi?'

He was sure they had mentioned it.

Clang!

His sword clashed with a bizarrely shaped blade. In that moment, a blood cultist reached out with his other arm to wrap around Yoon Jong's sword. It was an act that no sane person would even consider.

But these people could do it. Whether their arms were cut off or pierced, if they could bind their opponent's sword even for a moment, it was worth it.

Yoon Jong quickly pulled back his sword in fright. In the brief interval, the blood cultist's bizarrely shaped blade grazed past Yoon Jong's neck. Unlike theirs, his neck wouldn't reattach if severed.

'Immortal qi!'

Yoon Jong's breath grew ragged.

Immortal Qi (Seon-gi)—the ethereal energy of the heavens. It was the ultimate dream for those who wielded Taoist swords, something they longed for even in their sleep. Yet, its true nature remained a mystery to all.

'No.'

Looking back, they hadn't said Immortal qi was their weakness. They had just said it was the nemesis of all dark martial arts.

Why had Cheong Myeong said that?

"Kaaaahh!"

At that moment, a howl from an enemy behind him reached his ears. At the same time, he felt a fierce energy rushing in from behind.

Yoon Jong instinctively rolled to the side.

Boom!

Almost simultaneously, the ground where he had been standing exploded, sending dirt and stones flying.

"Huff!"

Harsh breaths kept escaping his lips.

'So why didn't he teach us?'

If Immortal qi was the solution to dealing with them, and knowing that Mount Hua could clash with them again someday... why hadn't Cheong Myeong taught everyone how to harness Immortal qi?

Why?

"You shameless donkey," one of the blood cultists sneered.

"And yet you act so high and mighty."

The blood cultists mocked as they saw Yoon Jong rolling on the ground to avoid the attack. But their ridicule didn't shake Yoon Jong at all.

"...Sorry."

As Yoon Jong spoke for the first time, the blood cultists looked at him with a curious glint.

"I've never been one to act high and mighty. I'm not that kind of person."

"Haha!"

A sharp laugh returned.

Once again, Yoon Jong breathed in a cool and calm breath instead of anger.

He had no reason to be angry. He had just spoken his true feelings.

Compared to monstrous disciples and seniors who climbed higher each time he saw them, Yoon Jong knew he was ordinary. He was well aware of that.

But what did he have?

His eyes settled calmly.

"We've wasted enough time. Let's finish this and leave..."

"I know."

The blood cultists glanced upward. If they delayed any longer, reinforcements might come from Mount Wudang. That would put them in danger.

"End him."

"Yes."

The blood cultists spread out, surrounding Yoon Jong.

Yoon Jong calmly observed them. Their intention to finish him off in one blow was clear. He instinctively knew this wouldn't be easy. Their attacks, indifferent to the injuries they would receive, were unimaginably vicious and dangerous.

But instead of panicking, he took a deep breath. His sword emitted a heavy sword sound.

'Why didn't he teach us?'

And why hadn't Baek Cheon spoken of what he intended to do or achieve?

"Kaaahhh!"

As one blood cultist charged straight at Yoon Jong, the others followed suit, swinging their grotesque swords menacingly.

Yoon Jong's eyes briefly blazed with intensity but soon calmed like a serene lake.

'He didn't need to say anything.'

Nothing in the world, nothing at all, changes suddenly. There's nothing to gain in an instant.

If it seems that way, it's only because one cannot see the long time hidden behind it.

Sharp blades flew in from all directions, aiming to tear Yoon Jong's flesh apart.

Yoon Jong, who had been observing them as if watching someone else, slowly moved his sword.

'It's not that he didn't tell us.'

He didn't need to.

Even if one isn't special or extraordinary, there's always something.

If the time he had spent until now wasn't a lie, the answer would be within him. That is martial arts, and that is the Tao!

"Faith."

As Yoon Jong murmured, the tip of his sharp sword moved smoothly. Crimson petals began to bloom delicately.

The sight resembled clear morning dew.