Chapter 828: A Moment to Savor (3)

Dongjuk’s posture subtly turned respectful as he stared at the half-remaining blade.

“Um. Hero. If I were to withdraw now, perhaps—”

“Do you think that’ll work?”

Dongjuk’s face drained of color.

Only now did the wave of regret crash down on him—how many times had he heard it drilled into his ears that in the martial world one must beware children, women, and the elderly?

And yet he hadn’t doubted her at all, not with that flippant, lightweight attitude of hers.

So that really had been his last chance.

When she told him she’d let him go if he sheathed his sword and withdrew, he should have withdrawn.

Was this the karma of a man who was supposed to serve his Young Master, yet let rage intoxicate him and swung his blade?

Dongjuk savored that fierce regret.

But only for a moment.

Qing pointed at Jeong Ryujang.

“How would I let a Blood Cult degenerate like that live? This was how it was always going to end, so there’s no need to wear that self-reproachful look. That brat over there? He’s my work too.”

“What—”

“And he’s your ending as well.”

Qing raised her palm to eye level.

Three or four pearl-like lights floated up, spinning slowly above her hand as they chased one another.

Aura rings!

Proof of the Transformation Realm!

Incredibly cool!

Of course, aside from looking impressive, they weren’t particularly practical—just flashy proof screaming Yes, I’m Transformation Realm.

But from the perspective of a pinnacle warrior, there were few sights more terrifying than an enemy manifesting aura rings.

Dongjuk’s eyes flicked—once over his shoulder, then down at Jeong Ryujang writhing on the ground, emitting tongueless, mangled groans.

Qing’s lips curled upward.

Trying to run? Or something else?

Maybe alone, but there was no way he could carry dead weight too.

Would he try to flee by himself?

But the idea of a mere pinnacle warrior escaping the grasp of someone in the Transformation Realm was laughable.

Even an extreme-pinnacle might attempt a getaway, but when the gap in realms was this blatant, no one short of a realm-transcending monster would dare even try.

So Qing casually opened her mouth.

“Of course, there is a way for you to live.”

If he was going to die either way—running or resisting—he might entertain some shallow thought about dying with dignity.

That wouldn’t do.

Bad people should remain bad people.

Villains should act like villains.

They should slaughter lives without hesitation for small gains, be stingy when it comes time to share profits, have no loyalty to begin with, and betray others as easily as breathing.

That was villainy.

“Eat a caught fish and it’ll taste good right away. But if you learn how to fish, you’ll eat fish for life—no, wait. That’s wrong. Cancel that. Again. Ahem.”

Qing waved her hand, taking the words back.

That, too, was a privilege of the Transformation Realm.

Why? Mad? What are you going to do about it?

“A caught fish tastes good if you eat it right away. But if you use it as bait, that’s how you reel in the big one—the trophy catch. You’ll be that bait.”

“What does that—”

“We kill the Blood Cult. We kill more of them. And to do that, we need to know them well, don’t we?”

Ghostfire blazed within the eyeholes of her mask.

Real, blazing killing intent.

Dongjuk swallowed hard.

Only now, seeing that horrific hatred up close, did he understand where Jeong Ryujang’s wretched state had come from—felt it with his entire body.

“Th-then just kill me.”

“I won’t kill you. I’ll pluck out your eyes, pierce your ear canals, and cut out your tongue. Then I’ll sever the core tendons in your shoulders—and now that I look at you, it’d be better to break every single one of your fingers too.”

Qing’s eyes narrowed.

“Imagine it. You can’t see anything. You can’t hear anything. You can’t shout to convey words, and you won’t be able to write either. Every sensation that reaches you will be nothing but fear. I don’t know whether the Blood Cult will keep you alive or let you die—but one thing is certain. When that time comes, you won’t even be able to beg them to spare you. Or beg them to kill you.”

Despite the ghostfire pouring from her eyes, her voice was calm, as though stating a simple fact.

Each word sank straight into the ears.

“So. What will it be? Will you keep your loyalty and end up like that? Or will you live—and call out the one who should die in your place?”

At the same time, Qing’s hand glowed with crimson starlight.

As if she had no intention of letting him stall for time.

Dongjuk swallowed again.

He looked once at Jeong Ryujang, writhing and emitting crushed, animalistic sounds—then back at Qing—then again at Jeong Ryujang.

At the ruin of the Young Master he had served so long, cherished like a younger brother or a nephew.

And then—

A grim, unshakable resolve rose on Dongjuk’s face.

With blazing eyes, he opened his mouth.

“Th-then... what is it you wish to know.......”

Behind the mask, Qing’s mouth split wide into a grin.

*****

In front of the acrid column of smoke rising from the coal mine, another black plume rose, forming twin pillars.

Jeong Family Manor was burning.

The grand main hall caught fire first, and the flames spread to the corpses of Blood Cultists piled inside, to the timbers torn from other buildings and stacked together, the firestorm roaring skyward.

Leaving that smoke behind them, a group exited Jeong Family Manor.

They were Blood Cult warriors.

Following the southern access road from the main gate, they soon reached the great road stretching east to west.

Turning west, a long mountain range rose like towering walls, cutting across the horizon.

Following the road westward, then climbing into the mountain’s edge, at about the sixth ridge line a viciously steep slope finally revealed itself.

A hill so steep it stole your breath just to look at it—

Black Dragon Pass.

Normally, the warriors would have cursed this merciless incline with every foul word they knew.

But now, they climbed in silence.

After all, how could they not, having failed to protect the manor they were charged with guarding, burning it down and retreating?

Like defeated soldiers, they wore heavy, sunken expressions.

The third-rate lower warriors didn’t even dare breathe loudly, reading the mood.

And then—

The moment the man leading them, the captain of Jeong Family Manor’s guard unit, reached the edge of Black Dragon Pass.

His view suddenly opened wide, the summit of the pass laid bare before his eyes.

And the first thing he saw—

What in the—

The captain’s eyes went wide.

Men—no, men, plural—two of them, crawling along the ground half-naked, wearing nothing but underwear.

The captain raised his hand, halting the formation, drew his sword, and cautiously approached the unidentified grotesques.

He moved without sound, but the crawling man was so absorbed that he didn’t notice—

Crawling without using his arms?

Without arms?

“Y-Young Master?”

The captain shouted and rushed forward.

The moment he grabbed the grotesque by the shoulders and flipped him over—

“UUUAAAGH!!!”

A crushed scream bursting with terror exploded out.

On either side of the gaping mouth, blood-crusted scabs clung to the cheeks, forming characters.

Blood on the right. Extinction on the left.

Blood-Extinction or Extinction-Blood—the meaning was obvious.

Then the captain’s gaze shifted to the one remaining grotesque.

The one who had escorted the Young Master.

“Captain?”

The captain called out cautiously.

There was no answer.

He swallowed—

And then—

—AAAGH!!!

A scream erupted from the pass.

And—

—KRAHAHAHAHAHA!! Die, Blood Cult bastards!!

A woman’s voice—clear and beautiful.

Paired with a wild, utterly mismatched laugh.

The captain sprinted toward the pass, and what met his eyes was his comrades being butchered without resistance.

Her face was hidden by a veil, but she was unmistakably a woman—by form, by voice.

More than that, a faint blood-red radiance flowed from the long, heavy sword she wielded.

Sword-energy—the mark of one who had transcended.

“I am! The Supreme Thief Overlord! The rice-eater, Elder Bandit Lotus! The righteous thief who steals the lives of the Blood Cult! KRAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Sword-energy fell.

A warrior raised his blade, but it was meaningless before sword-energy.

In an instant, the woman’s blade bent at a right angle—then another—and dropped.

The greatsword sliced one finger-joint past the elbow, sprang back up to slice another joint, dropped again to slice another.

As sword-energy left afterimages, countless vertical lines were drawn.

From the elbow down, finger-joint by finger-joint, bodies fell apart, limbs scattering.

Like chopping ingredients.

It was an unspeakably brutal technique.

“KRAH! Another one down! I’ve stolen another useless life! This Elder Bandit Lotus! The Supreme Thief Overlord! The rice-eater, Elder Bandit Lotus!”

The titles and name were unheard of—but her hatred for the Blood Cult was unmistakable.

After chopping a comrade into dozens of pieces, Elder Bandit Lotus threw her head back in mad laughter—then snapped her head around, blade pointing.

“Where do you think you’re running?! Anyone who runs is rice! I’ll mill you all!”

Mill?

Was that something you said to people?

Before the thought could even settle—

BOOM!

Despite the distance, the vibration traveled through the soles of his feet.

With a colossal stomp, she launched herself so fast the captain lost sight of her for a heartbeat—

And then she grabbed a comrade by the hair—

RIP.

The captain swallowed.

Milling meant removing the husk from rice.

And that—

That had been milling.

With movement that had reached the realm of divine lightness art, Elder Bandit Lotus stamped across the mountainside, each step shaking the ground as her figure leapt through the air.

The captain held his breath and carefully backed away.

He doubted he would ever hold his breath like this again in his life.

Fortunately, the fight—no, the massacre—was happening on the slope, so after only a few steps, the horrific scene vanished from view.

The captain told himself—

This is not fleeing.

This is saving the people who must be saved first.

They were only trainee warriors of the cult anyway. Using their lives to save more valuable ones was only natural.

Backing away inch by inch, the captain finally inhaled deeply.

Filling his lungs, he snatched Jeong Ryujang up and tucked him under one arm.

“UUUAAAH!”

At the scream, the captain felt like his heart slammed wetly onto the ground.

But he was already committed.

He dashed forward and tucked Dongjuk’s body under his other arm.

“HUAAAGH!”

Screams erupted on both sides.

Cold sweat soaked his back, chilling him to the bone.

With a cripple under each arm, the captain ran.

Toward the base of the hill.

With the dying screams of his subordinates at his back.