Chapter 619: A Long Night

This fucking martial arts maniac.

Over the course of two lifetimes, Baek Suryong had encountered numerous individuals obsessed with martial arts. Without exception, they were all lunatics who embraced the bizarre and unnatural to become stronger and committed the most heinous acts without hesitation.

Baek Suryong rolled his eyes. Having experienced the Heavenly Martial Principal’s insanity, he no longer saw the irony in an orthodox martial artist espousing the idea of defying heaven.

Master Crazy Demon was one of those people. His quest to perfect his martial arts had driven him to undertake the Hundred Duels Trial, an endeavor that branded him a public enemy of the murim.

“...I do not regret the path I chose.”

Even the man once hailed as the Hyonwon Clan’s greatest genius had made an irreversible mistake due to his insatiable desire to create his own martial art, yet harbored no remorse whatsoever.

Bottomless greed and ambition were common traits among martial arts maniacs. Ironically, this made them predictable. The more transparent a person’s desires were, the easier it was to anticipate their next move.

However, just as the martial arts of this world were infinitely varied, so were the nutjobs who obsessed over them. No simple definition applied to all of them.

The proof of this was right in front of him. Here was a man with the patience to hide his madness for the sake of his goals. Who would suspect this man standing at the pinnacle of the orthodox murim to be a total lunatic?

Of all the madmen Baek Suryong had ever known, the Heavenly Martial Principal Jin Ryang’s type was by far the most dangerous.

“Fatigue, I expect. I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” he answered calmly, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with one hand.

The energy of the Heaven Defying Divine Art had already dissipated without leaving a trace. He had no reason to flinch at a remark that amounted to nothing more than a mere probe.

“Oh dear. Make sure you get enough sleep. It’d be a tremendous loss to the murim if a talent like you burned out.”

The Heavenly Martial Principal wore a look of genuine concern as he helped himself to the chair the First Apostle had just vacated. He lifted the bottle in his hand casually, as if he had been invited.

“Care for a drink? A few cups of something strong is a decent method to achieve a good night’s sleep.”

“......”

“If you won’t have any, I suppose I’ll drink alone.”

The Heavenly Martial Principal ignored Baek Suryong’s frigid expression, poured himself a cup of wine and began rambling.

All he talked about was martial arts. He laid out the martial theory he had spent a lifetime assembling. He discussed the strengths and weaknesses of every art representing the Nine Sects One Gang and the Five Great Clans, as well as the strategies to counter each style. He even described the distinct traits that appeared in a person’s body when they learned a particular demonic art.

Some of his ramblings contained the profound insight of a peerless master. Other parts strayed across lines an orthodox martial artist should never cross.

Only a martial master obsessed with unearthing the Blood Cult’s long-lost history could piece together its forgotten past.

“I noticed that the Young Lord of the Namgung Clan fused the Infinite Heavens Sword Technique with the Royal Sword Style, birthing an entirely new divine art. That doesn’t make it superior to the two arts that preceded it, mind you. Ultimately, it comes down to the aptitude and disposition of whoever wields it. I can already foresee the challenges associated with passing on the Heavenly Thunder Royal Sword Style to future generations...”

Countless martial artists would have given their souls to hear a single sentence from Jin Ryang, but Baek Suryong only gave him a lukewarm look, the occasional cursory nod, and the odd frown.

Even so, the Heavenly Martial Principal beamed as though that were more than enough for him.

“Haha! It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone whose thoughts align with my own. The answers I see in your eyes and expression are worth more than a thousand of those idiots’ words.”

They were both peerless masters, capable of reading the faintest shift in someone’s expression. Even if Baek Suryong said nothing, the Heavenly Martial Principal derived genuine ecstasy from a listener who understood him.

After rambling on for a while, he lowered his voice to a more intimate tone. “I’ve been extraordinarily happy lately, you know. It’s no exaggeration to say these are the best days I’ve experienced in ten years. I finally feel... alive. Do you know why?”

Baek Suryong chuckled softly and spoke for the first time. “Because an age of chaos is coming.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The Heavenly Martial Principal’s laughter reverberated through the room, rattling the objects within. Jin Ryang made no attempt to hide his insanity in front of Baek Suryong. In fact, he seemed to be deliberately putting his madness on display, relishing the reaction it drew.

At this point, Baek Suryong realized he had no reason not to play along.

“Is that why you’ve been sabotaging your students?” he spat coldly.

An uninvited guest had just forced him to send an old protégé out the window after decades apart, so he was not in a charitable mood.

“Sabotage?” The Heavenly Martial Principal tilted his head, looking confused. “Are you referring to the techniques I taught my students? I merely offered them a little advice and gave each of them what they wanted.”

“You taught children techniques that could cause qi deviation or cripple them for life!”

“Oh, please. Any competent individual can easily overcome such issues with sufficient effort. If a martial artist shrinks back for fear of qi deviation, how could they ever hope to reach the pinnacle of martial arts?”

Baek Suryong realized once more that reasoning with this lunatic was impossible. Jin Ryang was discussing the unorthodox approach to martial arts while wearing the face of a sage.

“Don’t hold me in such contempt. I’m nothing more than a humble warrior thrashing about in an effort to move forward.”

Smiling bitterly, the Heavenly Martial Principal ran a fingertip slowly across the fine crack formed when the First Apostle and Baek Suryong had fought over the Blood Demon Sword. Admiring it like one would a masterpiece, he murmured, “Both you and your opponent are truly magnificent.”

“......”

“Are you truly under thirty? If so, your talent must be a gift from the heavens.”

He looked up from the mark to Baek Suryong’s face. For a moment, a crimson light flashed behind his eyes.

“Or perhaps... a talent that defies heaven.”

He never uttered the conclusion he had reached. He did not need to.

Baek Suryong tensed. I have to kill him. Right now.

A lone sword appeared in his mind. Simultaneously, the Blood Demon Sword beneath the bed began to move at his will, so quietly and secretly that not even a peerless master would notice.