Chapter 1
*Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.*
*Swoosh.*
*Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.*
*Swoosh swoosh!*
"Hurry! We mustn't let him escape!"
*The Great Snow Mountain.*
Countless martial artists, swords dangling at their hips, rushed somewhere in groups. Each of them clad in clothes with distinct patterns embroidered on them.
"Hmm."
At the foot of the mountain, a man and a woman watched the scene, their faces etched in amazement.
"Mount Diancang, Emei, Kongtong, Hainan, Qingcheng... even Shaolin and Wudan. It seems all of the Nine Great Sects have truly gathered."
"Indeed, Master. To think we'd witness the Nine Great Sects lending their strength to the Murim Alliance's Heaven's Net and Earth's Snare... they must be truly determined."
"Well, their opponent is none other than 'him.' Moreover, I hear the Sword Emperor, the Blade Emperor, and the Spear Ghost have arrived as well."
"Three of the Twelve Venerables of the World?"
"With Grandmaster Muheo of Shaolin here as well, that makes four."
"My goodness."
Disbelief painted the woman's face.
The middle-aged man nodded, his gaze ice-cold over the edge of the folding fan in his hand.
"Yes. While the official reason is to strike down the murderous ghost who caused the Blood Calamity, their true intentions lie elsewhere."
"It's his martial arts, isn't it? The real reason."
"Well, we came here for the same prize, but it seems we're too late. He likely won't leave the Great Snow Mountain alive."
The young woman shook her head at the middle-aged man's inexplicable regret.
"It's just the karma he has accumulated, it's not your burden to bear, Master."
"Tell me, Hyang-a. Do you truly believe he is a murderous ghost?"
"Pardon? What do you mean...?"
"Just a passing thought."
The man fiddled with his folded fan.
"The Rakshasa Demoness, the Black-faced Asura, the Young Master of Lustful Dreams, and even the entirety of the Evil Love Palace... Those who died by his hand were all infamously evil, weren't they?"
"But it wasn't just them. The Lone Sword of Baekjung, a great hero whose righteousness was widely known throughout Sichuan, the Black Lion, the pride of the Jongri Sect, both fell to him. Even the Sword Saint Sect lost both their Chief Elder and successor to that man, basically forcing them to close their gates for a decade. So many innocent lives lost..."
"That makes him a murderous ghost?"
"Yes. I believe it does."
"I see."
Seeing his young disciple speak her mind so honestly, the middle-aged man couldn't offer a gentle smile.
She was right.
Just how many lives had been lost to his hands?
By that measure, the term 'murderous ghost' certainly fit him like a shroud.
That's why all this commotion had started in the first place.
But...
*Innocent, you say...? I wonder.*
His young disciple didn't yet know.
She couldn't yet fathom just how utterly despicable the powerful could be when no one was watching. How their righteous facades hid utter rot.
The man's gaze drifted to the peaks of the Great Snow Mountain.
A fierce bloody battle raged there now.
Where the man they called the murderous ghost fought for his life.
*What a waste.*
The thought echoes in his mind, a memory of an encounter long-ago.
Whether he mourned the man's martial arts or the man himself, no one say.
\* \* \*
*Where am I?*
*And who... am I?*
Why are all these people... dead? Why are they bleeding at my feet?
*Whooosh-*
The man, standing precariously at the cliff's edge, raised his hands seemingly out of instinct.
His hands... they were sticky, drenched with blood.
He knew.
It was his own, mixed thoroughly with that of others.
*What in the world...*
At that moment...
"Blood Demon!"
A voice shattered his trance, sharp with hate.
"You evil scourge of the world! Today I will surely put an end to you!"
*...Blood Demon? Me?*
Almost as if on cue, a flood of memories rushed into his mind.
A happy, ordinary family... A wife, taken early by illness... A sudden war, started by those damned martial artists... And Yul-i. His lovely daughter, caught in the crossfire, taken away from him...
Ah. Yes. That's right.
*Grind.*
His momentarily unfocused eyes turned red as blood rushed into them.
Having lost everything the man went mad, He indiscriminately killed every rotten martial artist he came across, orthodox or demonic. It made no difference.
*Those bastards.*
*My daughter... she hadn't even learned martial arts. What sin could she have possibly committed?*
The funny thing was, there were far too many rotten ones to find. And before he knew it, they called him the Blood Demon, the one responsible for the Blood Calamity.
Once again consumed by a fresh wave of immense rage, Yeo Un-hwi glared at the masters surrounding him.
The Twelve Venerables of the World, those who stood at the very pinnacle of this martial world.
Four of them were present.
Not to mention the army of sect leaders who had rushed here just to catch one man.
It was laughably absurd.
"How could one who inherited the Martial God's legacy cause such a terrible bloodbath? Are you truly not ashamed before the heavens?"
*Shut up, you bald monk. You don't know anything.*
Grandmaster Muheo, the abbot of Shaolin and the Fist Emperor himself.
His words only fueled Yeo Un-hwi's fury.
"...I,"
Yeo Un-hwi's voice was a low ball.
"I feel not the slightest shame for what I've done. Every single person who died by my hand was trash who deserved it."
"Y-You despicable bastard, how dare you—"
"Because we're on the same righteous path!"
The sect leader of Mount Diancang pointed, his face flushed with anger, but Yeo Un-hwi's venomous voice cut him off.
He swept his bloodshot gaze across the self-proclaimed righteous martial artists surrounding him.
"Is it truly 'righteous' to blindly cover up and protect your own criminals simply because they belong to your sect?! Do you feel no shame? You just rush to pin all the blame on me. Yet, you dare you call yourselves righteous!"
"...Amitabha."
Grandmaster Muheo chanted in a heavy voice.
As if unable to stand by any longer, another stepped forward, addressing the Grandmaster.
"Abbot, how much longer must we listen to this murderous ghost's ramblings?"
"There's nothing more to hear, Grandmaster Muheo. We must end this today, before more lives are lost to his hands."
"But the Martial God's techniques... If we kill him, the peerless martial arts of the Greatest of All Time might be lost forever."
"The Blade Emperor is right. We should capture him first and then slowly—"
"Is that what's important now?! Or are the Blade Emperor and Spear Ghost simply coveting the Martial God's techniques for themselves even in this situation?"
"How dare you! Do you mean to insult me?"
*Thwack!*
His entire body was covered in horrific wounds.
He had already lost too much blood, nearly losing consciousness several times.
But even in this situation, Yeo Un-hwi couldn't help but laugh.
Just as he had expected, they were hypocrites, all of them. Their 'righteousness' and 'chivalry' were but a thin veneer, yet even that was unable to hide their filthy ulterior motives.
The sight was nauseating.
There was nothing more to say.
"...Fine. I'll kill you all. Every last one of you."
*Wooong-*
Fueled by boiling rage, Yeo Un-hwi drew upon the last of his internal energy. Even if were to go down, he would take one even one more along with him.
"Everyone, be careful!"
*Kuuuung!*
"You bastard!"
The Sword Emperor and Blade Emperor barely avoided his desperate attack and unleashed their own ultimate techniques.
They aimed for the Blood Demon, who was already drowning in his own blood.
*Kuuuung!*
Towards the Blood Demon, already covered in blood.
\[Azure Sky Thunder!\]
\[Great Blade Severing Heaven!\]
The Spear Ghost and a dozen other masters charged in their wake.
But he couldn't just stand there and take it head on.
"Kuaaah!"
Yeo Un-hwi summoned every last scrap of internal energy to counter.
*Kwaaang!*
Energies collided. An immense, world-shaking boom.
But soon, Yeo Un-hwi's energy dissipated, and a massive storm of energy engulfed him.
"Kuhurk!"
Pain tore through him, shredding every inch of his being. His body flew backward, a kite with a severed string.
*Damn it all...*
If he had just one more year, just one, Yeo Un-hwi might have been able to accomplish everything he wanted.
To avenge his daughter.
But vengeance had blinded him, and madness had driven him. He lacked the patience to bide his time and fully master the peerless divine technique he had stumbled upon.
Having taken the ultimate techniques of three of the Twelve Venerables of the World head-on, Yeo Un-hwi fell rapidly down the endless cliff.
*...Is this the end?*
*I'm sorry, Yul-a.*
*I'm sorry, my love.*
*I'm sorry, everyone.*
In an instant, the world went black.
His vision darkened, and his consciousness faded.
As he fell endlessly, Yeo Un-hwi's slowly closed eyes.
He could feel death approaching.
The sensation of darkness engulfing his body.
And so his miserable and terrible life came to an end...
Or so he thought.
*Thump.*
"Oof!"
Something soft landed onto Yeo Un-hwi's stomach.
*W-What?*
"Daddy!"
An lovely little girl, no older than six, beamed down at him.
"...Huh?"
Faced with an utterly unbelievable sight, Yeo Un-hwi couldn't even think of getting up, just staring at the child's face with a dazed expression.
*Is this... a dream?*
Moments ago, he had clearly been falling endlessly down a cliff, so he couldn't understand why he was here now.
He looked around to take in his surroundings.
Old furniture. Worn but neatly arranged household items.
A very familiar room.
*Could this be...*
The door burst open.
"Yul-a, is Daddy not up yet?"
Yeo Un-hwi's eyes widened.
"...Ah, ah."
He couldn't comprehend it, but tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks.
His daughter. His wife. The people he had longed to see for decades right before him.
Looking at him with the most loving smiles...
*It was a miracle.*