Staring at Jin Jamyeong, Bu Eunseol unleashed the Supreme Heavenly Flow without hesitation.
Clang! Ching!
The ink-black sword’s momentum expanded relentlessly, cutting through the Blood Death Ghosts. But their bodies, harder than iron, weren’t easily cleaved by a single strike.
Boom!
As a torrent of poison attacks rained down, Bu Eunseol countered with poison-neutralizing techniques, slashing through the onslaught.
Drenched in blood, Bu Eunseol’s relentless attacks against the Blood Death Ghosts resembled a divine warrior vanquishing demons, majestic in his ferocity. The brutal and intense battle left not only Jin Jamyeong but also A-Yeon, watching from atop the main hall, gaping in awe.
‘This man…’ A-Yeon thought. Bu Eunseol’s fierce and dynamic movements were seared into her mind like a burning brand. ‘Is there such swordsmanship in the martial world?’ she wondered.
The Sword Pavilion aimed to cultivate the spirit through the sword and accumulate virtue through righteous deeds. But witnessing Bu Eunseol’s swordsmanship, the Pavilion’s lofty ideals seemed like mere pretensions, disconnected from reality.
“Truly a Ten Demon Warrior of Nangyang Pavilion!” Jin Jamyeong shouted, watching the chaos.
He thrust a palm toward Bu Eunseol.
Boom!
A black bolt of energy, like dark lightning, surged through the air, enveloping Bu Eunseol’s surroundings in a black haze—the Black Heaven Blood River Art, the supreme poison technique of Hell’s Blood Fortress.
“You can’t block this!” Jin Jamyeong declared.
The Black Heaven Blood River Art dominated the space, spreading poison that couldn’t be stopped by holding one’s breath or hiding underground.
Flash!
At that moment, a fierce blood-red glow ignited in Bu Eunseol’s eyes. Simultaneously, a mist-like sword energy poured endlessly from the ink-black sword in his right hand.
But something was strange. Instead of targeting Jin Jamyeong, the mist-like sword energy enveloped Bu Eunseol himself.
Swish!
The sword energy layered around him, forming a massive, invisible barrier—the sixth technique of the Supreme Heavenly Flow, Immutable Guardian.
“What is that?” Jin Jamyeong exclaimed, eyes wide.
The Black Heaven Blood River Art, which had dominated the surrounding space, was being blocked and dissipated by the immense sword energy barrier.
“Dissolving a poison technique with sword energy?” Jin Jamyeong muttered.
Poison techniques, formless like the wind, typically persisted until their energy was exhausted. Yet the Black Heaven Blood River Art was vanishing in white smoke upon contact with the sword energy.
“You bastard! You’ve infused your sword energy with blazing true fire energy!” Jin Jamyeong realized.
Fire was the natural enemy of poison. Knowing the dangers of poison techniques, Bu Eunseol had created a sword technique within the Supreme Heavenly Flow to counter extreme poisons. However, wielding the blazing true fire energy required either mastery of an extreme yang inner power art or inner power exceeding three sixty-year cycles.
Until now, his insufficient inner power had prevented him from using Immutable Guardian, but he finally unleashed it.
Whoosh!
As the Black Heaven Blood River Art became useless against the blazing true fire energy, Jin Jamyeong’s vulnerabilities were exposed at close range.
Flash!
Bu Eunseol executed Meteor Chasing Moon, but—
Slash!
Blood Death Ghosts near Jin Jamyeong blocked it with their bodies.
“You bastard!” Jin Jamyeong roared, enraged, summoning twelve-star inner power to unleash the Black Heaven Blood River Art again.
Sizzle! Slash!
But Bu Eunseol countered with Immutable Guardian, neutralizing the poison. He struck Blood Death Ghosts with fist techniques, threw daggers, and, when necessary, absorbed attacks with his body to relentlessly target Jin Jamyeong’s neck.
Thump, thump.
A-Yeon’s heart raced as she watched. Though she had trained her sword to the supreme realm, she had never seen such a brutal fight.
Staggering as if about to fall, Bu Eunseol rose like a roly-poly. He swung his sword, then struck Blood Death Ghosts with his fists. When poisoned, he drew blood with poison-neutralizing techniques, spilling it freely.
This savage battle was the very embodiment of an Asura.
‘This is swordsmanship. This is the martial world,’ A-Yeon thought. Bu Eunseol’s unyielding spirit and fiery gaze ignited her martial soul. This was the martial world! This was battle! His entire being seemed to proclaim it.
It shook the heart of A-Yeon, who had honed her sword in the serene stillness of the Sword Pavilion.
Clang.
A white radiance suddenly streaked through the air. Stirred by Bu Eunseol’s martial spirit, A-Yeon descended from the main hall, wielding her sword against the Blood Death Ghosts.
Swish! Slash!
Her swordsmanship, grand yet restrained in killing intent, was the antithesis of Bu Eunseol’s—a hallmark of the Secret Sect’s sword arts. Each swing severed the tendons and meridians of the Blood Death Ghosts, halting their movements.
Watching her clean, silent strikes, Bu Eunseol nodded. ‘Truly the future Sword Empress.’
When she unleashed her full power, her swordsmanship seemed capable of splitting the earth and piercing the heavens.
Swish! Slash!
“Argh!”
“Ugh!” With A-Yeon joining the fray, the Blood Death Ghosts’ formation collapsed rapidly. As Bu Eunseol slaughtered them, Jin Jamyeong had no choice but to retreat in anguish.
“Retreat!” he commanded.
The Blood Death Ghosts withdrew swiftly, like a receding tide, leaving only blood-soaked corpses in the forest.
***
Chirp, chirp. Crackle.
The gentle sounds of insects and burning firewood broke the silence of the tranquil forest.
Bu Eunseol and A-Yeon sat blankly, a campfire between them. After expending their full strength, exhaustion gave way to a hollow emptiness. Having defeated over fifty iron-hard Blood Death Ghosts, they sat in unspoken agreement, resting.
“Haa,” A-Yeon exhaled, touching her blood-soaked veil. Stained beyond repair, she removed it.
The campfire seemed to brighten the surroundings in that moment. A-Yeon’s unveiled face was as breathtaking as Yeon Soha, the young mistress of the Divine Maiden Palace, unmatched in beauty.
‘Is he pretending to be indifferent?’ A-Yeon wondered. Raised in the Sword Pavilion, she had never seen anyone—child or adult—not marvel at her appearance. Yet Bu Eunseol glanced at her only once, as if looking at a passing dog.
The prolonged silence prompted A-Yeon to speak. “No gratitude?” Bu Eunseol frowned, and she continued boldly, “If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d have been in serious trouble.”
From the Dark Jade Hall to the Poison Furnace Hall, a hundred masters had attacked him in succession. Without her aid, a complete victory would have been impossible.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Bu Eunseol replied coldly.
A-Yeon nearly laughed at his blunt response. ‘He truly would have fought on, whether I helped or not.’
In the current martial world, where the powers of righteous and demonic paths were stable, and disciples easily learned advanced martial arts, someone like Bu Eunseol, who burned with martial spirit at the risk of his life, was rare. Hadn’t he even studied corpses to refine his techniques?
‘He doesn’t seem evil at heart,’ A-Yeon thought. Despite rumors of him as a ruthless demonic warrior slaughtering righteous masters, the real Bu Eunseol resembled a passionate martial artist more than a great demon.
“Your swordsmanship was impressive,” A-Yeon said, wanting to continue the conversation. “I heard Nangyang Pavilion has no formalized martial arts except the Beast Way. So, was that swordsmanship learned at Nangyang Pavilion, or did you create it?”
No response came despite her repeated questions.
“Fine, just one question then,” A-Yeon said, looking directly at him. “You said you killed the White Horse Temple Leader’s grandson. Why are Hell’s Blood Fortress masters after you?”
She continued confidently, “We fought side by side, so I deserve an answer.”
Bu Eunseol stared blankly at the campfire.
A-Yeon’s eyes gleamed as she lowered her voice. “By the way, I noticed a critical flaw in your swordsmanship earlier.”
“A flaw?” Bu Eunseol’s eyes, previously still as stone, flashed with intensity. “What flaw in my swordsmanship?”
“Now you answer,” A-Yeon said, a faint smile on her lips, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question either.”
Realizing she had tricked him, Bu Eunseol’s expression darkened. Whether he had no retort or simply didn’t want to engage, he closed his eyes. A-Yeon was now certain: he was not an evil man. Though his demeanor and words were icy, she knew such people could never be true villains.
“Why walk the path of Asura?” A-Yeon asked, her expression one of incomprehension. “You could have chosen differently.”
“Strange words,” Bu Eunseol said, opening his eyes with a frown. “Why did you join the Sword Pavilion?”
“As an orphan, what choice did I have?” A-Yeon replied. “My master took me to the Sword Pavilion, that’s all.”
Bu Eunseol responded calmly, “That’s how the world works.” Gazing at the campfire, he continued softly, “People think they have many choices, but everything is bound by fate and inevitability. In truth, humans have little control.”
“Is the conflict between righteous masters and the Ten Demon Warriors the same?” A-Yeon asked.
For the first time, Bu Eunseol looked directly at her. “Yes.”
A-Yeon began to faintly understand. There was something between the righteous masters and the Ten Demon Warriors she didn’t know, and Bu Eunseol had no choice in the matter.
“I see,” she said.
He was neither an evil man nor a demon reveling in slaughter. There was no need to demand an oath from him.
‘I’ll return to the Sword Pavilion for now,’ she decided, standing.
Step, step.
Light footsteps approached from the distance. As time passed, a Taoist carrying a large bundle appeared at the temple gate. He was sturdy, with spirited eyes. Though not strikingly handsome, his features were honest, giving him a likable appearance.
“Are you Bu Eunseol, the Ten Demon Warrior who defeated three righteous masters in Jeongju?” the Taoist asked.
Instead of answering, Bu Eunseol stared at the Tai Chi sword hanging at the man’s waist, a mark of Wudang disciples.
“Who are you?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“I am Song Ak, a disciple of Wudang,” the Taoist said, flashing a bright smile. “And the Great Righteous master you’ve been seeking.”
