Chapter [NaN] |
Surrounded by blood that had turned pale pink, he slowly opened his eyes.
Though his mind was still half-unconscious, he remembered clearly what had just occurred.
He didn’t know exactly how, but Tang Sowol had come here. She wasn’t an illusion of his making. She was the real Tang Sowol, from outside.
There was a simple reason he could be so certain.
“Forgiveness, huh...”
If her intention had been to break his spirit using Demon Bell's power, she wouldn’t have forgiven him. Not when even he himself hadn’t sought forgiveness for what he had done.
That one word that had lifted him up from drowning in self-loathing carried a resonance no one could have predicted.
It was something that couldn’t occur in a world where only he existed.
Instinctively, he reached for his waist. But the sword wasn’t there, though he didn’t know when or where he’d lost it.
The pale pink blood that had risen up following Tang Sowol began to fall gently, as if flower petals were blooming.
Had she left it behind? As he felt the sweet scent tickling his nose, he reached out into the air.
Four cheok and two chon in length. (A bit over 128cm – longer than a typical sword.)
Slightly longer than a normal sword, but the blade was narrower to compensate, forged this way with confidence in the hardness of black steel.
The hilt was made to fit perfectly in his hand, just the right thickness and shape.
There were no decorations. What mattered in a sword was its strength and sharpness, nothing more.
It was a sword he had wielded for over thirty years, combining his life before regression and after. And in this cursed dream, he had swung it even more than that.
Because everything flowed according to his will, he had gained no particular enlightenment nor growth.
Even so, the sword had always been in his hand.
The Sword Ghost had drawn the sword from within his Heartscape, from the Sword Decision Ground.
Not someone who merely wished to become a master swordsman, but one who wanted to become the sword itself—perhaps that’s why it was possible.
But they say extremes often meet. If he could do it, then why couldn’t I?
“Hoo.”
He exhaled deeply. For some reason, his mind had become clearer, and everything around him appeared vivid and sharp.
A sword is merely a tool. Then is it the sword that cuts?
No, that’s not it.
A sword left untouched does not cut anything. It simply rusts quietly.
It is not the sword that cuts the enemy, but the will within me that seeks to wield it.
It is only because I choose to cut that the sword moves and slices the opponent before me.
And so, when my will broke just moments ago, even with a sword, I could no longer cut—I collapsed.
Then what about now?
“Ha!”
Tang Sowol had gone this far for him—he couldn’t sit there pathetically.
Isn’t a man a creature that always wants to look cool in front of a woman?
He had already shown her his pathetic side, but now he had to make up for it.
Even if it was partly bravado, what mattered was that he was now filled with will.
Will refined into resolve, and resolve sublimated into determination.
The first step to daring to reach the heavens with a human body. The most basic process in summoning Qi Strength.
Wuuung—
Even though he visualized it as concretely as possible, the Qi Strength that rose from his palm wavered without form.
Something was missing.
By reaching the Flowering Stage, he had gained the insight to reach what was previously unreachable, and to cut what could not be cut.
Then why couldn’t he make a non-sword into a sword?
What he needed was a clear objective. Where was he swinging the sword? Why was he swinging it?
As soon as he reached that thought, the falling blood that had blocked his vision fully blossomed like a flower petal.
Splatter.
The pale pink hue that Tang Sowol had left behind was instantly drowned and vanished in dark crimson blood.
But the image had already been engraved deep within his Heartscape.
The hellfire that Tang Sowol had shielded him from until the end, and the curses spat out by the twisted images of the three women rising in his memories—none of it could wound him any longer.
Because that’s what Tang Sowol wanted. Because that’s what I wanted.
Come to think of it, the answer had always been within me. All that remained was to wield it.
Where should I swing it?
It was not the women from my memories I needed to cut down—it was the world itself.
So, I looked up at the sky. A pitch-black void, with nothing visible now.
Beyond it, I could faintly sense the presence of Blood Demon. Likely because I had weakened Demon Bell’s power enough to glimpse past the veil.
Then why do I swing?
To return to those waiting for me. To see the future I have yet to witness with my own eyes.
Did Demon Bell realize what I was trying to do?
Unlike before, when it slowly chipped away at my mind, it now focused all its remaining power on me.
The heat of the hellfire intensified. The women who once only uttered resentment regained their martial arts.
Rising poisonous mist, chilling cold that clung to my ankles, and a monstrous fist aimed at my head.
Within this sensation as if the world itself was trying to devour me, a faint smile appeared on my face.
This time, it wasn’t a forced grin.
This place is my hell. Yet Tang Sowol willingly fell into the same place just to whisper that single word—I forgive you.
Even now, her voice, her scent, and the lotus flower she bloomed in this most horrifying place surround me.
There’s no longer any reason to fear those things. So—
“Transient, and again, transient.”
Because it is futile malice that cannot reach me, it is transient.
Because it still seeks to be a sword even after losing its true form, it is transient.
A formless enlightenment gained in a place without form.
A translucent sword blade shimmered above my tightly clenched hand.
Though it had lost its color, its feel was identical to the black steel sword I was so familiar with.
“In Buddhism, the term ‘Diamond’ doesn’t hold just one meaning.”
I once heard this while chatting with Venerable Jeonghyeon or Venerable Gakjeong. Because Diamond Vajra Body is so well-known, many think the ‘Diamond’ in scriptures refers to the gemstone.
But due to translation errors from Tibetan, it actually also means ‘lightning’.
Right before I fell into Demon Bell’s dream, I was struck by a Vajra Bolt from the sky. Perhaps that too held some meaning.
Well, I don’t care about the principles or deeper logic. What matters is—I too now have lightning.
Relaxing my entire body, I lowered the translucent sword.
Its sharp edge felt like it would slice through anything upon contact. I held my breath, closed my ears, and focused only on the beat of my heart.
All of this was to pour everything into a single moment.
With my heartbeat, I squeezed all the internal energy in my dantian, all the strength in my body, into a single strike.
A moment of stillness—and then the thunder roared.
Kwarang!
The heartbeat that once murmured quietly erupted like thunder, shaking heaven and earth.
And even before I sensed it, the sword in my hand had already moved, pointing skyward.
Toward the direction where Tang Sowol had disappeared. The direction I now had to pursue.
A strike that wielded the Heartscape itself as a sword naturally summoned Qi Strength.
Kwagagagak—!
White thunder surged from the ground up into the sky.
Or rather, it looked like thunder from the sheer intensity of the Qi. All that Demon Bell had created was consumed in its flow.
The remnants of the past forged from memories. The threatening martial arts they wielded. The already tattered landscape. Even my regrets and lingering attachments I couldn’t let go of.
White Thunder devoured all of it, tearing it apart.
And through the wreckage, a narrow, winding path revealed itself.
A dazzlingly bright world beyond it. Without hesitation, I leapt in.
If I hold a single sword within my Heartscape—
That sword will always point to you.
This is my Sword Heart.
“Kuhak!”
Though he had been steadily pushed into a defensive stance, Blood Demon had not easily collapsed. Yet now, he suddenly coughed up blood and stumbled far back.
It wasn’t that Tang Jincheon’s poison had suddenly begun to spread.
The poison that damaged internal organs was driven out through internal energy and spiritual power, while the kind that rotted and melted flesh was withstood by the unyielding strength of the Diamond Vajra Body.
Unintended as it was, Blood Demon, who had taken on the body of the Diamond Arhat, was practically the natural enemy of the Tang Clan.
At least, until his internal energy ran dry—perhaps half a shijin (an hour) later.
The ones who had been relentlessly attacking Blood Demon faltered when they saw him suddenly vomit blood.
To those who did not understand the existence of Demon Bell or Blood Demon, the current Diamond Arhat was incomprehensible.
It wasn’t wrong to be cautious, suspecting that he might be plotting something.
However, Blood Demon's response went far beyond their expectations.
“How... How can you reject Nirvana!”
His roar wasn’t directed at the Murim Alliance Leader, nor Seo Mun-Hwarin, nor even Tang Jincheon.
He shouted toward the direction where Chief Administrator Zhuge Bu had barely managed to retrieve Cheon Hwi’s body during the chaos.
As if something impossible had happened right before his eyes.
Suspicious, Seo Mun-Hwarin turned her gaze slightly in that direction—where Cheon Hwi, looking as if he’d just awoken from a deep sleep, was staggering to his feet.
“You...!”
She didn’t know what had happened behind her while she was fighting, but it was clear that Cheon Hwi had regained consciousness.
The wave of relief and joy she felt was brief, soon overshadowed by a deep sense of unease.
Not only Seo Mun-Hwarin, but even the Murim Alliance Leader, Tang Jincheon, and Blood Demon—who had reached great heights in both martial and esoteric Buddhist arts—were rendered speechless.
An overwhelming pressure radiated from Cheon Hwi, something even top-tier warriors could not ignore.
He had collapsed in battle, and they had barely managed to extract his body, yet Cheon Hwi now stood empty-handed—his beloved black steel sword still lying somewhere in the wreckage of the battlefield, unable to return to its master.
So then, why was it?
Why did a phantom sword seem to overlap with the bare hand of Cheon Hwi?
The cause of this unease soon became clear.
Kwarang!
Cheon Hwi, who had now reached a level not inferior to Seo Mun-Hwarin, unleashed his Lightning Step and instantly closed the distance.
As he grasped the air, translucent Qi surged from his empty palm.
The only medium was his will, yet it maintained a clearly defined form of a sword.
A technique often dubbed Formless Sword by the martial artists of Murim had begun to manifest in Cheon Hwi’s hands.
Countless sword strikes filled the air—slashing and stabbing. A simple combination of movements, yet executed in such numbers.
Cheon Hwi, who had spent decades in Demon Bell’s dream world doing nothing but wielding the sword without rest, found it natural.
But to the onlookers, it was a sword forged from blood, sweat, and time—they could not help but be awed.
Blood Demon, visibly pale perhaps due to Demon Bell’s magic being broken, barely managed to take a defensive stance. And then—
Kwang!
Without even time to scream, Blood Demon was sent flying into a wall.
Across his crossed forearms, a fine red line was drawn.
It hadn’t completely severed, but it had pierced the skin—that alone was proof.
Proof that Cheon Hwi’s refined Willpower had surpassed the training and cultivation history built into the body of the Diamond Arhat, which Blood Demon had stolen.
Of course, Blood Demon himself, who had repeatedly switched bodies, had no deep attachment to Diamond Vajra Body. He simply clicked his tongue, frowning.
But those who had clashed with Blood Demon and experienced his impregnable form were naturally shocked.
“Wh-... White Moon Sword Lord? Just now, what was...?”
The Murim Alliance Leader stammered at the sight of Blood Demon, who had until now shown no sign of injury, finally bearing a wound.
While he blinked dumbly, Blood Demon climbed from the rubble, brushing off dust.
“Foolish mortal. Such folly you have committed. To kick away Nirvana with your own feet. Because of that karma, you shall forever wander the Eight Burning Hells, never reaching salvation.”
“Hell, huh.”
Cheon Hwi softly repeated the word, then let out a faint chuckle and extended his arm.
The black steel sword, lying far away, was sucked into his hand through Object-Grasping Through Empty Air.
Now holding his own sword again, Cheon Hwi calmly continued.
“How redundant. I’ve always lived in hell.”
But even hell becomes bearable if you have someone to share warmth with.
He turned his gaze to Tang Sowol and Seol Lihyang, who stared blankly at him, and to Seo Mun-Hwarin, still blinking in confusion.
His expression softened for a moment, then hardened again as he readied his stance.
Overlaying the Formless Sword atop the real blade, the surging Qi took the form of a sword and condensed.
Layered swords. Layered Qi. The density of his Willpower was so intense, it felt as though the scenery around Cheon Hwi was distorting.
Yet he showed no sign of being moved by it, and only glared at Blood Demon as he declared,
“Blood Demon. You are no Buddha. You’ve simply lived longer than others... and now, you are just another mortal about to die.”
“You fool! Even when everything is spoon-fed to you, you reject it and choose the wrong path! Today, I shall drive out the demons from your mind!”
Though Blood Demon raged and spoke such words, he didn’t truly intend to fight Cheon Hwi to the end.
After all, his plan—to buy time with the body of the Diamond Arhat and be reborn in Cheon Hwi’s body—had fallen apart.
With no chance of victory, and no time left to stall, his only option was to escape.
Understandable. But Cheon Hwi had no intention of letting him go—that was Blood Demon’s fatal mistake.
He should have fled instead of trying to stand tall.
Kwarang!
With a roar of thunder, Cheon Hwi’s body accelerated once more.
Already condensed Qi had formed White Lightning Sword. And now, another layer of shimmering Qi cloaked the sword as it slashed like a lightning bolt.
Puk!
Blood Demon barely raised his arm in time to block it, but this time, Cheon Hwi’s sword sank deeper.
By the time Blood Demon realized something was wrong, it was too late.
Kwarang! Kwarang! Kwarang!
The thunder didn’t cease. Not because he repeated Lightning Steps, but because every swing of Cheon Hwi’s sword was accompanied by White Thunder.
Thunder Sword.
A personalized adaptation of Thunder Heaven Divine Art, it was a sword that was simply fast and devastatingly powerful—slicing through Blood Demon’s body.
Like a sudden downpour, it was impossible to dodge or shield from.
Normally, such a strike would exhaust all internal energy and physical strength in one blow. But this time, Cheon Hwi altered the flow.
Instead of releasing the energy at once, he sealed it within the sword—allowing him to continue exceeding his limits with every strike.
Of course, the moment his body gave out or the sword was stopped, all the power he had sealed would rebound violently.
But that was fine.
If a single strike couldn’t destroy it, he’d keep cutting until it did.
And so, not just in theory but in practice, Cheon Hwi’s blade began retracing the exact paths it had already cut.
First cut through the flesh. Second ripped through the muscle. Even five more swings weren’t enough—only after the sixth did the bone finally break.
Blood Demon, who had endured even against three Flowering Stage martial artists, lost an arm in an instant.
“Wha—?!”
Soon after, his other arm was severed as well.
The eyes of Blood Demon, now armless, widened in disbelief.
“This sword... Mortal. What did you do in there?”
“You already know.”
“I can only see the outside. I cannot peer within when time flows differently.”
“I see.”
So that’s why the Mental Restriction didn’t react, and Demon Bell recreated the memories from before the regression.
Cheon Hwi nodded inwardly. Meanwhile, Blood Demon checked the link between himself and Demon Bell, then let out a sigh.
“Namu Amitabha. So that’s how it is. I don’t know how, but you’ve severed the connection between Demon Bell and me.”
“Which means you’re now just a mortal too.”
Demon Bell had only exhausted its power, not been destroyed. But the memories of Blood Demon within it had been completely erased.
If he killed Blood Demon here, it would be the end. No resurrection, no second chances.
Realizing his true death was near, Blood Demon willingly offered his neck.
“Then I suppose I’ll finally be free of Maitreya’s heavy burden and attain rebirth in Nirvana.”
Truly a madman’s way of thinking, and a madman’s actions.
Cheon Hwi’s sword slammed into Blood Demon’s neck.
Once. Twice. Thrice—the sword cleaved through dense muscle and shattered thick bone.
And now, standing poised for the final strike, Cheon Hwi paused and opened his mouth.
He didn’t like letting Blood Demon die peacefully. So, he returned the most disturbing words he had once heard from the Heavenly Demon.
“The heavens no longer watch over us, but their gifts and shackles remain.”
“What do you mean by that?”
As expected, Blood Demon, who knew nothing of regression, didn’t understand.
But perhaps due to his deep knowledge of Buddhist esoteric arts, he seemed to sense something—his expression turned to shock.
“Don’t tell me...!”
Slice.
Before he could finish, his throat was cut, and he collapsed.
Now the final journey would be bitter and unsettling. And then—
“Khk!”
The sealed energy inside the sword began to reverse, threatening to tear Cheon Hwi’s body apart.
In haste, he turned and swung his sword toward the back of the battlefield—toward the Diamond Arhat’s mansion and the Buddhist halls for the Murim Alliance's disciples.
Kwarang!
White Thunder surged upward from the ground, collapsing countless buildings.
Having now expended every ounce of strength, Cheon Hwi collapsed backward.
Lying there, he closed his eyes in satisfaction.
The Flowering Stage martial artists, only now recovering from the shock, rushed to check his condition.
“Poison King! Is Cheon Hwi alright? Since you’re skilled in poisons, you must be well-versed in medicine too! If there’s anything I can do, just say it!”
“Thankfully, he’s only fainted from exhaustion. No need to worry. If anything, we should just carry him to a bed.”
“Leave that to me!”
Seo Mun-Hwarin quickly picked up Cheon Hwi and ran toward Tang Sowol and Seol Lihyang.
Though his feet dragged a little due to the height difference, it would be fine.
While Tang Jincheon sighed in relief, the Murim Alliance Leader stood in shock, staring at the devastation Cheon Hwi’s final sword had caused.
The buildings had been completely demolished. Since he had swung from the bottom upward, even the foundation stones had shattered.
Among the broken splinters of wood, he saw a glint of shattered Buddha statue fragments—and shivered.
“Don’t tell me... he destroyed everything just because he didn’t like letting him die peacefully...!”
It was a misunderstanding.
Well—half of it was.