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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: cyno
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“Hmm…”
A black-haired girl with emerald-green eyes gazed up at the night sky.
Her name was Dang So-baek.
In the martial world, she was known as Dokhwa (Poison Flower), one of the Seven Flowers, and the treasured jewel of the Sichuan Dang Family.
“That White Blade Guest I saw yesterday and the day before… he was undoubtedly the Sword Saint.”
She recalled the Sword Saint she had seen five years ago.
Though his hair had been black back then—unlike the White Blade Guest’s—she vividly remembered those distinctive azure-blue eyes unique to the Namgung family.
Even his facial structure, though somewhat altered, was roughly the same.
“The Sword Saint’s star is shaking.”
Her gaze remained fixed on the brightest star in the southeastern night sky—the Sword Saint’s star.
Just as she said, it flickered wildly, glowing as if possessed.
It was an omen.
Something monumental was about to happen.
It didn’t take her long to deduce what that something was.
“…So that’s why the Reapers have been so busy.”
A faint smirk curled on her lips.
The frigid winter air seeped through her clothes. The chill felt even more eerie now, as if welcoming the souls of those soon to be born as the dead.
“The Sword Saint will be the one killing… but who will be the ones dying?”
Many faces flashed through her mind, but she couldn’t be certain of any.
Not that it mattered to Dang So-baek.
Her eyes were already strained from reading celestial signs all night, and now this new riddle had appeared.
What a delightfully entertaining day this has been, she thought.
BANG—CRASH—!
“Ah—Father?!”
That was, until Dokjon, the patriarch of the Dang Family, burst onto the balcony in a frenzy.
“What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you so worked up—”
THUD!
“Ack—Father?! What are you—Ghk—!”
Sweat pouring down his face, Dokjon shoved Dang So-baek into a corner and wrapped his arms around her—as if shielding her from something.
The moment he embraced her, she could feel his sweat soaking through her clothes.
“Ghk…! F-Father…! I can’t breathe…! C-Calm down first…!”
Ignoring her protests, Dokjon only tightened his grip, frantically pulling her deeper into his arms.
At the same time, he muttered like a man possessed:
“A monster…! Th-There’s a monster…!”
“Guh—! It hurts! You’re hurting me! Please, loosen your grip—!”
“N-No…! I already lost your mother… I can’t lose you too…!”
“Agh—! What’s gotten into you?! What monster are you talking about?!”
As a Peak Master, Dang So-baek couldn’t sense it—but as a Transcendent Master, Dokjon could feel it clearly.
Right now, somewhere in the Mount Hua Sect…
An unstoppable monster was seething with cold fury.
—
Like a thunderclap, the man’s voice cracked through the air as he hurled his question.
Contempt. Disgust. Rage. Betrayal.
Every negative emotion he had bottled up surged forth, erupting through his words.
“Can you… justify your lives?”
Baekhwa (White Flower) and Geomryong (Sword Dragon) stiffened.
The overwhelming killing intent pressing against their skin left them speechless.
“I can’t believe… people like you were among those I saved.”
Like a mirror held up to their lives under the shadow of death, each of his words pushed them closer to the edge.
“Give me a justifiable answer. For example…”
With every syllable, they felt as if a blade were prodding their backs—forcing them toward a cliff’s edge.
As if the slightest misstep would mean their deaths.
“You sold your sect’s martial arts to amass wealth… because you needed to support your elderly parents.”
No words escaped their lips.
How could they confess their ugly truths before a man who judged lives like Yama, the King of Hell?
But then, his next words stripped them of even the freedom to speak.
“Look me in the eyes—”
His azure-blue eyes locked onto theirs.
Whoooom—!
“…!”
“…!”
A flash of blue light erupted from his gaze, tearing through Geomryong’s mind.
In an instant, the man’s life unfolded before Byeokrak (Thunderclap).
The gap between their “realms” was so vast that such divine power was possible.
Of course, Byeokrak despised this ability.
Every person had secrets, shameful parts of their lives—and peering into them was wrong.
But for these things before him…
“Hah.”
There was no need for courtesy.
Still, he skimmed through Geomryong’s memories with a sliver of hope.
“You used the money from selling your sect’s techniques… to frequent brothels and embrace a courtesan named Maehyang.”
“…!”
“You stole forbidden elixirs, and as a Taoist who should have eradicated evil, you took bribes from the Shaanxi Black Blade Sect…”
“Th-That… There were circumstances—!”
“‘Circumstances’? More like ‘ejaculations.’ You spilled your seed into women and used money to cover your tracks.”
“Ghk…!”
Byeokrak’s gaze shifted to Baekhwa.
The sheer murderous intent in his eyes made her flinch.
“You…”
“U-Ugh…!”
Just as he had done with Geomryong, Byeokrak ruthlessly sifted through her mind.
What he found was nothing but filth.
“I had hoped.”
As he read, he closed his eyes.
“That selling your body to learn the Solitary Nine Swords was for the sake of justice.”
A bitter, hollow laugh escaped him.
“But… of course. Once again, it was in vain.”
If only, in every regression, he had poured his heart into the early stages—perhaps this martial world wouldn’t exist.
Perhaps a true martial world—one where righteousness and chivalry thrived, where all warriors upheld virtue—would have taken its place.
“But no matter how hard I look… it’s nowhere to be found.”
A futile regret brushed past his heart.
“You pushed a more talented junior off a cliff to his death.”
“…!”
Like a ghost’s whisper, his voice slithered into Baekhwa’s ears.
Harsh. Low. Quiet.
That made it all the more terrifying.
The voice, rough as a beggar’s yet carrying the weight of a blade, sent shivers down her spine.
“You lured your Fourth Uncle, who had humiliated you in front of your peers, into a cave on Mount Hua and killed him with the Solitary Nine Swords.”
“…! Th-That was…!”
“Was?”
“It… was…”
Baekhwa couldn’t bring herself to justify it.
Even she knew it was shameful.
A life that should have been beyond reproach had been anything but.
These were deeds she had tried to forget—yet now, they were laid bare by Byeokrak’s words.
“Every time you descended the mountain, you visited the Black Blade Sect to extort money… How typical of a parasite. Disgusting. A Taoist who should protect the people—yet you leech off them instead?”
“E-Everyone does it! I’m not the only one! Why single me out?!”
“‘Everyone does it,’ you say.”
“Y-Yes! Even my senior brother, or Seolhwa from Emei! They all take bribes behind the scenes! I didn’t even take that much, so why are you blaming me?!”
“What a pathetic excuse.”
“Damn it! The world’s the problem, so why take it out on me?! I just…! I was just trying to survive!”
Byeokrak loosened his grip slightly, letting Baekhwa scream with all her might.
“‘Just trying to survive,’ you say…”
“Living isn’t a crime! The world’s fucked up, so what was I supposed to do?!”
“Now you blame the world. Listen well—the problem is you. This martial world is rotten because of vermin like you.”
“That’s bullshit…!”
“And.”
Byeokrak stepped closer.
His mountainous presence forced Baekhwa onto her back.
“A life like yours… is worse than death.”
WHOOSH—!
Byeokrak planted a knee on each of them, pinning them down.
He could have used pressure points, but those could be undone if their meridians shifted.
“W-Wait…! Wh-What are you— No… Wh-What are you doing…?”
“White Blade Guest! St-Stop this! I said stop—Ghk!”
CRUNCH—!
Byeokrak’s thumb plunged into Geomryong’s mouth, silencing his screams.
Whether Geomryong gagged or not, Byeokrak pressed down relentlessly.
Like crushing soft tofu, his finger sank deeper.
GRUUUUK—
“…! U-Ugh…!! G-Guhhk…!!”
The sensation of a fist-sized weight crushing his throat was worse than any pain Geomryong had ever felt.
Worse than when his leg had been shattered.
GRUUUUK—
“Uuuaaagh…! U-Ugh…!! Uwaaah!!!”
Flesh folded, crushed, turned to pulp.
Skin, muscle, blood vessels—forced into a grotesque paste.
Though only the size of a thumb, the agony was unbearable.
POP—
Byeokrak withdrew his finger.
Geomryong’s mouth remained gaping, unable to close.
He had passed out from the pain.
“…”
Expressionlessly, Byeokrak moved his hand to the next target.
SWISH—
He grabbed Geomryong’s wrist and placed it on the ground.
Since Geomryong was unconscious, there was no need for force.
“…?”
Baekhwa, frozen in terror, could only gasp as she watched.
Byeokrak placed his hand over Geomryong’s.
The horrific implication made her face contort.
Then—
GRUUUUUK—
CRUNCH—
Just as she feared, Byeokrak’s palm descended without mercy.
“GAAAAAH!!!”
The pain of his hand being crushed—no, pulverized—was worse than anything Geomryong had ever felt.
It woke him from unconsciousness.
Eyes bloodshot, he screamed—but no one came to his aid.
CRUNCH—
Skin, muscle, bone, veins—all melded into one excruciating mass.
Unlike the suffocating pain in his throat, this felt like his hand was being burned in hellfire.
He turned his head in panic, only to see his flesh and bone flattened into a thin, unrecognizable pulp.
“H-Haa…!! H-Haa…!!”
Beyond the pain, Geomryong felt fear.
The fear that the man before him might truly kill him.
No—that he might crush him piece by piece, just as he had his hand.
He wanted to beg for his life, but he couldn’t.
His ruined throat could only produce hollow, airless sounds.
Denied even the chance to struggle, terror consumed him.
“P-Please…!”
“You want to live?”
Geomryong nodded desperately.
Of course, Byeokrak’s heart didn’t waver.
His rage had reached its peak.
“Even the Blood Cultists accept death with humility by this point… How repulsive.”
He moved his hand to the next target, muttering coldly.
“Come to think of it… there was a technique in the Blood Demon’s arts similar to this. The Blood God’s Palm—modeled after the Tathagata’s Divine Palm.”
CRUNCH—
“UUUOOOGH!! U-Ugh! Uwaaaah!!”
“They said if you stacked dozens of people and struck them with the Blood God’s Palm, they’d fuse into a single mass… A truly horrifying technique.”
Recalling the unpleasant memory, Byeokrak closed his eyes and focused on the punishment.
Shoulder, chest, abdomen, elbow, ribs, pelvis, solar plexus.
One by one, he pressed down—methodically, ruthlessly.
CRUNCH—!
“Ugh…!! G-Guh…!!”
With each press, Geomryong’s body and screams grew weaker.
Fainting and waking repeatedly from the pain, his mind slowly shattered.
CRUNCH—
“Ugh…! Uuuuh…!!”
Bone-heavy areas, flesh-heavy areas.
Areas with organs, areas with veins.
Areas of extreme pain, areas of lesser pain.
Leaving no part untouched, Byeokrak continued the torture—no, the execution.
Baekhwa, pinned under Byeokrak’s knee, could only watch in horror.
SPLAT—
SQUELCH—
SPLASH—
Blood and mucus splattered in all directions.
Mingling with the rain, they formed grotesque, unidentifiable puddles.
The sound of someone stifling their breath and someone choking filled the air—though it was drowned out by the downpour.
“Even with your torso crushed, you’re still breathing… As expected of a martial artist.”
“…!”
“But I can’t let scum like you die peacefully.”
Byeokrak’s massive hand pressed down on Geomryong’s face.
CRUNCH—
His palm sank into the ground like mud.
Without even a final scream, the Divine Dragon of Mount Hua met his end—not as a man, but as a discarded lump.
A fitting end for one who had lived so disgracefully.
Byeokrak let out a dry chuckle before turning to Baekhwa.
Naturally, having witnessed everything, she was petrified.
Her face was paler than Byeokrak’s, her breaths so faint they were barely audible.
She looked like a living corpse.
“Are you afraid of death?”
“…”
“I asked if you’re afraid of death.”
The question, delivered like a Reaper’s call, made her breathing ragged.
“Hah… Hah…”
Byeokrak waited patiently for her answer.
He was genuinely curious.
“…Of course I am…”
“I see.”
“P-Please spare me…! I’ll do anything…! Y-You can even rape me if you want…! Just let me live…!”
“You fear death… I suppose death being a blessing only applies to me.”
Byeokrak asked his second question—one he had wondered while sifting through her wretched life.
“Then what… is life to you?”
“Eh? Wh-What is life…?”
“Yes, life. To me, life is hell. Is it hell for you too?”
“…Of course life is hell! Isn’t it the same for everyone who isn’t the Emperor?!”
“Is that so… Then why did you struggle so hard to live? If life is hell, why not just hang yourself? Why sell your body and live so vilely?”
“…”
At the words “vile” and “wretched,” Baekhwa’s shoulders trembled.
Faced with a man who embodied death itself, the highlight reel of her life flashed before her eyes—and nothing described it better than those two words.
Of course, she felt no regret.
“…To live a better life…! Everyone’s the same…! They all struggle to climb higher…!”
She desperately defended herself—not to Byeokrak, but to herself.
As if proving that her path hadn’t been wrong.
But—
“What nonsense.”
Byeokrak’s next words shattered her delusions.
“No one else climbs by strangling others.”
“…!!”
“No… wait, there are. The Blood Cultists. Those who kill and feed on others.”
Suddenly, Byeokrak recalled a monk from Shaolin—now the Head of Discipline.
Once a Blood Cultist, he had cast aside that identity and trained under a divine monk for decades, truly reforming into a righteous martial artist.
In contrast, the wretched creature before him—
“A Blood Cultist wearing the mask of righteousness. That’s what you are.”
The label “hypocrite” wasn’t enough.
That was for those who wore masks.
Byeokrak didn’t consider Blood Cultists human.
“Wh-What gives you the right to say that?! You don’t know how I’ve lived!”
“I know. I just saw it. Born as the spoiled child of a merchant family, you used connections to enter Mount Hua. With your talent and your parents’ wealth, you hoarded elixirs to rapidly advance… all while killing over a dozen people. When money could get you what you wanted, you used it. When it couldn’t, you used your body.”
“…!!”
“And you don’t even realize how blessed your life was. You should’ve lived gratefully, joyfully… yet you drowned in greed and lived a life fouler than a bandit’s. Damn it.”
GRIND—
Byeokrak’s teeth clenched.
His hand slowly reached for Baekhwa.
Deliberately. Relentlessly.
“U-Ugh?!”
Though it would take twice as long as Geomryong’s torture, Byeokrak didn’t care.
People like her didn’t deserve a quick death.
Especially not when compared to the broken figures of Yoo So-eun and Okhwa, whose suffering paled in comparison to her sheer vileness.
“Why…? Why do creatures like you get to live…?! Why is the martial world I saved like this?! If I’d known… I should’ve just—!”
As Baekhwa’s body was flattened like Geomryong’s, on the brink of death—
Byeokrak, who had been about to roar in fury, instead raised his voice even louder.
“I SHOULD’VE NEVER SAVED THIS DAMNED MARTIAL WORLD!!”
BOOM—!
For a moment, he thought of those currently sleeping in Mount Hua.
But he wanted them to hear.
The thunderous voice, like a storm given sound, echoed in all directions.
—
### 3
Byeokrak stared coldly at the two sheets of paper before him.
What had once been people were now something not even worthy of being called corpses.
“You clung to each other in life, and now you’re fused in death. A fitting pair.”
As he turned to leave, he paused.
A line from the Analects of Confucius, which he had often read as a child, came to mind.
“‘Gu bu gu, gu zai gu zai’…”
“If a cup is no longer a cup, how can it be called a cup?”
Confucius had used it to illustrate the importance of rulers and subjects fulfilling their roles.
But for some reason, Byeokrak felt it applied to people as well.
No—it did.
At least, based on what he had just witnessed.
“‘Ren bu ren, ren zai ren zai.’”
Facing the two sheets of inhuman flesh, Byeokrak spoke as if making a vow.
“If a man is not human, how can he be called a man?”
There was no one within a ten-zhang radius to hear him.
THUD—
Remembering the Solitary Nine Skies he had told to find him earlier, Byeokrak dragged his leaden feet forward.
A path strewn with crimson blood and flesh on white snow.
It was not an easy path to walk.
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