Chapter 1672 - Isn't This The Situation You Wanted? (2)

Jo Gul's eyes blazed with intensity.

He realized it when he saw Mount Wudang, which had been a faint silhouette in the distance, becoming clearer.

"It's red…"

At first, he thought he was mistaken.

However, comparing it with the other surrounding mountains, it was evident. The towering Mount Wudang was clearly dyed red up to its middle.

"Sahyung! Look at that!"

"Is it a fire attack?"

Yoon Jong's face turned serious in an instant.

A fire attack capable of burning more than half of such a large mountain was unimaginable. Yoon Jong gritted his teeth.

"Inhumane bastards!"

Just by looking at the mountain from afar, the crisis Wudang was currently facing could be felt throughout his body.

"Let's hurry, Jo Gul!"

"Yes, Sahyung!"

As they dashed forward, Yoon Jong clenched his fists unknowingly.

'Hold on!'

We'll arrive soon, very soon.

He earnestly wished that the name Wudang would remain in the world until they got there.

* * *

A buzzing sound like a swarm of bees filled the air as countless hand shadows covered the sky.

The numerous shadows, each creating a different form, were dazzling enough to be mesmerizing.

Which is real and which is fake?

It was the pinnacle of illusion. It was a move that proved why the Thousand-Faced Gentleman was called the best hand of the Evil Sect.

Heo Gong also seemed unable to find a way to deal with these dazzling hand techniques and immediately retreated and leaped backward.

However, the experienced Thousand-Faced Gentleman didn't allow Heo Gong to retreat so easily. Smiling twistedly, he closed in on Heo Gong, who was retreating, and the number of hand shadows increased even more.

Countless hands reached out toward Heo Gong. It was a sight that was not just amazing but also horrifying. It was as if ghosts were scrambling towards the living, drawn by their vitality.

Heo Gong's sword thrust sharply towards the hand shadows. The Tai Chi sword, imbued with both white and black energy, cut through the sea of hand shadows in an instant.

However.

Heo Gong's eyes widened.

The space he had cut through with his sword was quickly filled with more hand shadows, like a river filling a cut channel.

Startled, Heo Gong rolled his body backward.

Thud! Thud!

At that moment, the sound of beating a leather drum resounded, and Heo Gong's body staggered back heavily.

Barely stopping himself, he glanced down at his body.

The impact zones were his left shoulder and right side.

His clothes at those spots had turned to powder and scattered, revealing his bare skin, which was now marked with dark handprints, as if the hand shadows had been branded onto him.

Ouch!

The malicious energy that had entered his body, along with the hand shadows caused a burning pain as if his flesh was being seared.

Glaring at the wounds, Heo Gong fixed his gaze back on the Thousand-Faced Gentleman. Unlike Heo Gong, who was grimacing, the Thousand-Faced Gentleman spoke leisurely.

"Where is Heo Dojin?"

Heo Gong's face turned even colder at those words.

"A tiger cub is still just a cub. The burden is too heavy for you. Bring Heo Dojin. Only Heo Dojin is a match for me."

The sword that hung down loosely in Heo Gong's hand twitched slightly.

"Or?"

The Thousand-Faced Gentleman chuckled derisively.

"Has that cunning Heo Dojin already fled? Well, he was always a quick thinker. So, only foolish ones remain?"

Fury blazed in Heo Gong's eyes.

"Does a mere lackey of the Evil Sect dare to face the leader of Wudang?"

"Hmm?"

"This is just the beginning. Someone like you is more than enough for me. You lackey of Paegun."

The Thousand-Faced Gentleman's eyes gleamed with interest.

Indeed, orthodox sect members were fun in this way. The Evil Sect was inherently sensitive to differences in strength. Therefore, they rarely engaged with someone stronger than themselves.

But orthodox sect members, even knowing their opponent was stronger, seldom retreated. Even if it meant hastening their death, they would not back down.

"If you insist, there's no choice but to make you realize your limits with your life."

Snap.

The Thousand-Faced Gentleman scattered his dazzling hand shadows once more.

Hundred-Hand Technique.

Before the Thousand-Faced Gentleman adopted it as his signature skill, it was known as the Carefree Illusory Playful Hand, an absolute technique of the Evil Sect.

The numerous hand shadows proliferated as if they were dividing and they increasingly covered the sky in layers.

Deceive, mock, and toy.

This technique, which seemed to encapsulate the essence of the Evil Sect, targeted the entire body of Wudang's top prodigy without even attempting to hide its deadly intent.

A terrifying sight, as if the whole world was filled with hand shadows.

The gigantic wave formed by the hand shadows swept towards Heo Gong as if to obliterate every obstacle in its path.

Although it was a life-or-death situation, Heo Gong did not resist or struggle against the wave. Instead, he took a deep breath and faced it head-on.

'Can I do it?'

He probably wouldn't have been able to. If he hadn't seen it. If he hadn't experienced it.

But....

Swish.

Heo Gong's sword moved gently.

It was not the same rough sword that had tried to tear and slash through the technique earlier. It was a softly flowing, enveloping sword.

The sword tip extended slowly towards the hand shadows that coiled and surged at Heo Gong.

Swirl.

A clear circle appeared.

A circle represents origin and completeness, but the circle Heo Gong was drawing now had a slightly different meaning.

The clear circle created an unwavering root. No matter how much the world shook, it was a firm and deep root that would never be swayed.

Like the old pine tree growing on the cliff of Wudang.

And at that moment.

Heo Gong surged forward like a flash of lightning, thrusting his sword.

Clang!

A strong impact sound burst forth, and the hand shadows that had covered the world disappeared as if by magic, accompanied by a sound like metal clashing with metal.

For a moment, silence fell.

Despite the disguised face of the Thousand-Faced Gentleman, a hint of bewilderment flashed in his eyes. Heo Gong's sword had precisely pierced the center of the Thousand-Faced Gentleman's outstretched palm.

'No?'

But before he could continue his thoughts, Heo Gong's sword moved as if to slice through his body. The Thousand-Faced Gentleman involuntarily let out a scream and twisted his body.

Slash!

A sharp pain surged through his cheek. The sword tip had cut his cheek and even sliced his shoulder.

Thud.

The Thousand-Faced Gentleman retreated almost to the edge of the cliff and felt his cheek.

Beneath the familiar texture of the mask, he touched his unfamiliar skin. The sensation of warm blood was unmistakable.

The Thousand-Faced Gentleman's face twisted in a ghastly manner.

"How?"

Among the hundreds of feints, Heo Gong had accurately found the one real attack hidden within the Hundred-Hand Technique in that brief moment. This was something even those stronger than him hadn't been able to do. If breaking the Hundred-Hand Technique were easy, it wouldn't be called the Evil Sect's greatest technique.

Thus, Heo Gong had accomplished something even the renowned Heo Dojin might not have been able to guarantee.

Calmly retrieving his sword, Heo Gong gazed at the bewildered and enraged Thousand-Faced Gentleman.

"I probably couldn't have."

"What?"

"If this was the first time, I probably couldn't have done it."

Now, in a much calmer voice, Heo Gong continued.

"But I've already experienced it. A martial art more dazzling and more splendid than this. The Evil Tyrant Alliance humiliated Wudang, but I learned defeat from that sword."

"..."

"I have waited for the day I could break that sword. Someone like me can't fall for a mere illusory attack."

The Thousand-Faced Gentleman's eyes glistened. He wiped the blood flowing from his face with his sleeve and spat out his words.

"More dazzling, more splendid? Does that mean... my technique is second-rate?"

"Not second-rate. But at least... it falls short of the sword, I know."

The Thousand-Faced Gentleman's face was filled with extreme humiliation.

"You... ignoramus dares!"

Grinding his teeth in rage, the sound echoed ominously across Baekan Cliff.

Of course, he didn't think his martial arts were invincible. But he was certainly not at a level to be dismissed by a mere novice.

"I was planning to kill you anyway, but with those words, you've lost even the chance to die peacefully."

"That's exactly what I hoped for."

Heo Gong gripped his sword tightly.

He knew. It was close to luck. The Thousand-Faced Gentleman's technique wasn't something easily broken.

But even knowing this, Heo Gong didn't shrink back. If he couldn't overcome this technique, if he couldn't face this technique, which was mostly feints, then he couldn't hope to face that deadly sword where illusion and reality intertwine so intricately. Knowing this, he didn't shrink back, nor should he.

'Mount Hua's Divine Dragon!'

No, wasn't he now called Mount Hua's Chivalrous Sword?

'Wudang's sword doesn't lose!'

That one match shattered his confidence, his sword, and his world.

If he shrank back now, it would be as if he were admitting he hadn't moved a single step forward since then.

Wudang's sword is the Taiji. Taiji is harmony and origin. Therefore, Wudang's sword does not waver under any illusion.

"Don't you understand? The absence of Heo Dojin here signifies something. I'll show you clearly what happens to dogs abandoned by their masters!"

Watching the approaching Thousand-Faced Gentleman exuding a terrifying aura, Heo Gong bit his lip.

'Sect Leader!'

His sword let out a great sword cry.

* * *

"Hmmm?"

A coquettish voice flowed out softly.

The corners of the bright red lips curled up slightly. Despite the voice, the expression was as innocent as a child finding something interesting.

"This is... a bit unexpected, isn't it?"

Eyes glimmering with light stared intently at the person standing in front of them.

An old Taoist in black Wudang robes. No, in this moment, he should be called a swordsman with a sharp blade rather than a Taoist.

Such a person was blocking Jang Ilso's path, emitting a delicate, razor-sharp aura.

"Hmm, yes."

Jang Ilso lightly scratched his forehead as if in trouble and sighed.

"Wasn't it... Heo Dojin?"

Wudang's swordsman, Heo Dojin's eyes, glimmered with cold murderous intent.

"This is as far as you go, Paegun."

Srrrrng.

Heo Dojin's sword slowly unsheathed. The truly vicious malice imbued in that sword seemed to cut through flesh.

"This is really... unpleasant."

Jang Ilso's eyes curved softly like a crescent moon.