Chapter 348: Journey to Naknyeong (1)

The Difference Between Huagyeong and Entering a Demonic State

It’s far easier and faster to master a fully developed martial technique according to the will of its founder than to create a new interpretation from scratch.

However, entering a demonic state is significantly easier to achieve than reaching the Enlightened State, and with that ease came a dangerous side effect—being consumed by the martial art itself.

If the problem was that martial arts could drive someone into a frenzy, then couldn’t one simply enter that state using the pure internal energy of Daoist or Buddhist techniques?

But martial arts, at their core, are arts of killing.

They are techniques crafted to make killing others easier, faster, and more efficient.

So if a martial art begins to control a person—whether it’s a vile demonic technique or a peerless divine one—the result is still the same: one becomes obsessed with the martial art’s original purpose—murder.

That is why those who enter this state are called demonic martial artists.

And here, one such demonic martial artist was dying.

Only after vomiting up a good basin of blood did he regain any semblance of clarity.

Wang Cheolgun finally became aware of the state of his own body.

Poison. It was poison.

The venom had already spread to every organ. He didn’t need to slice open his belly to know that everything inside was rotting and blackened.

When did I get poisoned?

Ah, right. That dagger.

Coating a blade with poison was a basic, almost instinctive technique among those from the unorthodox factions.

“Heh, hah... To think I’d fall for such an obvious trick. I really have lost my touch. Lost my edge, so I guess it’s time to just die.”

Qing simply watched Wang Cheolgun in silence.

He seemed to be saying something.

But Qing wasn’t in great shape either.

I can’t see a damn thing.

The mountain bandit leader’s blazing glare, which had once burned so brightly, was no longer there. That cross-shaped flare of light had vanished. All she could make out now in the darkness was a faint, hazy shape huddled on the ground.

And her hearing wasn’t much better.

It felt like she was submerged underwater, wrapped in a dull, suffocating silence—except for the constant, irritating whine of a thin flute that never stopped.

Still, if she stood still and focused, she could barely make out voices.

“I have one question. What the hell did Noklim do to you to make you this vicious?”

“Nothing special!? They didn’t do shit to me!?”

Qing's voice was loud and clear.

Wang Cheolgun's expression twisted.

“You—your hearing? Ha, and your eyes are just blank too. You’re telling me I was done in by a blind, deaf girl? Kuhuh... Khahaha! Khuugh... Guh, kehack...”

He burst into laughter, then immediately hacked up another torrent of blood. He couldn’t even laugh properly anymore. Not with that body.

“I’m not blind or deaf though. I can see just fine. And hear just fine.”

But when she said that with glassy eyes and a voice she clearly couldn’t control, it was no different from outright confessing she was, in fact, blind and deaf.

In response, Wang Cheolgun picked up a stone and weakly lobbed it in a wide arc toward the far left.

Clack—the sound of it hitting the ground.

Qing flinched and instantly drew her sword, pointing it toward the empty air.

“Yeah. Sure. I believe you now. You can definitely see and hear.”

“I don’t know what trick you’re trying to pull, but it won’t work on me.”

“Yeah. Seems like it really won’t.”

Qing didn’t even register his sarcasm. She simply stayed tense, her blade raised.

Wang Cheolgun didn’t care. His life was flickering out, and he was determined to get some answers before it did.

“You say you had no grudge. Then why did you slaughter my son so cruelly? You stormed the hideout—he wasn’t even a bandit...”

“Who stormed what? I was just riding a carriage. I got off, and boom, I was there. And the guy didn’t even ask my name before telling me to strip and spread my legs. What was I supposed to do? Of course I chopped off his limbs.”

“He was my son. The son of Noklim’s leader. Weren’t you afraid of the consequences?”

“That’s the problem. How the hell does some useless punk with no skills think he can swing his dick around just because his daddy’s famous? If you live by the sword in the Murim, then don’t expect your daddy to save you. Stay in his arms if that’s what you’re counting on.”

Ordinarily, he’d have exploded in rage.

But with death looming so close, and his limbs heavier than lead—just throwing a stone had taken everything he had—he could only give a bitter laugh.

“Then fine. You killed my son. Wasn’t that enough? Did you really have to storm our main base and kill my other son and daughter too?”

“Who stormed what? I was just passing by. People kept going on and on about how beautiful Zhangjiajie was. Something like, ‘If you haven’t seen Zhangjiajie in your life, you can’t even say you’ve lived to a hundred?’ They made such a fuss about it, so I thought I’d check it out. How the hell was I supposed to know Noklim’s main base was there? I’d never even heard of the place.”

This time, Wang Cheolgun couldn’t just laugh it off.

His blood pressure surged—and with it, more blood, dripping from his lips alongside bits of his liquefied innards.

“Then you weren’t invading... just passing by... so WHY did my son die!?”

“Seriously, what kind of education did you give him? You tell your kid to strip any pretty woman he sees and jam it in?”

“Hmph. A man should know how to do that.”

“No wonder he turned out like that, with a dad like you. But for the record, that guy tripped over himself trying to run. I didn’t even touch a single hair on him.”

“My second son—you burned him alive at the stronghold.”

“...Huh? Me?”

Qing asked in disbelief.

When did I do that?

“You set the main house on fire. Though I suppose it’s better to die by an enemy’s hand than live like that. Yeah, they both brought it on themselves. Fine. But what about my daughter?”

“She was eating people alive, wasn’t she? How long did you think that would last? I mean, if you’re her father, and your daughter’s doing that kind of sick shit, shouldn’t you have broken her legs or something? You just stood there and let it happen?”

“They were food. Meant to be eaten. Whether you kill them first or eat them alive, what’s the difference?”

“Wow. You really are from another fucking world. Then I don’t even need to ask the next question. Why I fought Noklim? What else? When you see monsters like that in the world and pretend you didn’t, is that what a righteous martial artist does?”

“Just like a thief steals, that’s all.”

It was a well-known story, one that passed from mouth to mouth in town.

A wandering hero slays the wicked and saves the innocent.

She was still young. Bursting with passion. The kind of idealistic, hot-blooded youth who’d jump into flames out of nothing but a sense of justice—completely naive to how the world really worked.

“Go ahead. Kill me. Just make it quick, will you?”

Wang Cheolgun lowered his head as he spoke.

But he was a bandit to the bone.

Even as he feigned surrender, his limp hand was clutching his broken wolf-tooth club with all its might.

One final move—he was preparing for it.

I'm going to die anyway. When she steps in for the killing blow, that’ll be her last moment too.

Would he really have spilled all that bile if he’d accepted death?

No. He only acted like he had, so the naive girl would let her guard down and approach.

Qing was exhausted.

She wanted to slice him into ribbons, but her body was a wreck—her eyes and ears damaged, her pelvis and side in agony like shattered glass.

She’d probably rolled across the ground a hundred times or more.

There wasn’t a single part of her that didn’t hurt.

So what else could she do?

Qing stepped forward. One step. Then another.

Wang Cheolgun, head bowed, smiled with murderous intent.

Qing wouldn’t have been able to tell even if he’d looked up—her vision was too far gone.

But he was waiting, savoring the sound of her approaching footsteps, storing up his killing intent, whispering inside, Yes, come closer... closer...

And then a soft little voice rang out—

“Hyap.”

“Hyap?”

Startled, Wang Cheolgun jerked his head up.

He caught sight of Qing pointing her index finger at him—accusing, commanding.

And then that fingertip turned pitch black.

A streak of darkness—darker than the dark night itself, darker than shadow—cut through the gloom. A beam of pure obsidian light!

Wang Cheolgun twisted his body in desperation.

But the terrifying force shoved his shoulder violently, sending him flying half a length through the air and rolling across the ground.

His insides, already rotted by poison, sloshed violently as he vomited up a stream of blood, this time with fragments of blackened organs.

“You filthy, cheating bitch! Come closer! Get over here and slice my damn neck yourself! You filthy WHORE! You fucking mutt, you CUNT! DIE! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

Qing clucked her tongue.

“Wow. Look at that. Still using internal defensive energy, huh? I knew it. What, were you planning to bash my skull in if I came close? Take me with you, right?”

The legendary finger of the Heavenly Demon—the Heavenly Demon’s Point—the one that made heads explode just by pointing.

It wasn’t something Qing usually used.

Because it was inefficient.

One blast of the Heavenly Demon’s death ray could match about forty rapid advances using the Heavenly Demon’s Ruling Steps.

That made the equation: Forty steps of ruling footwork versus one Heavenly Demon’s Point.

Since the Heaven-Splitting Demon Energy had such a limited reservoir, she couldn’t afford to waste it on a few dramatic finger flicks.

As befits a death ray, if it penetrated the body, it would explode and cause catastrophic damage. But if it didn’t penetrate, it was just a fancy smack.

“Khuh, keh-huk...”

“Tch. Old bastard’s still got all his scheming.”

Qing extended her palm again.

Out of nowhere, the solemn tolling of a temple bell echoed in the night.

DENG. DENG.

With each low, vulgar chime, Wang Cheolgun’s legs jerked violently, followed by wet, meaty thuds.

Her vision was shot, so aiming was guesswork—she figured the rounder part above was his head, and the long bit below must be his legs.

Eventually, she turned his legs into rags. Only then did she casually ask,

“Hey, mister? You dead? If you’re not, mind answering?”

Wang Cheolgun played dead.

The only thing left inside him now was pure venom and the stubborn desire to take her down with him.

“Did I get him? Did I get him? Did I get him? Did I get him? Did I get him? Did I get him? Did I get him?!”

Qing started chanting like some kind of resurrection spell.

Wang Cheolgun was horrified.

Just three syllables—Did I get him—repeated over and over, fast, loud, her half-deaf ears making her shout at full volume. Was she insane? Possessed?

Shit. She’s crazy. Totally crazy.

“She’s strong enough that if I don’t confirm he’s dead, he might come back to life for revenge. But... what if he’s faking and trying to land one last hit?”

Wang Cheolgun didn’t know she was murmuring deliberately—just loud enough for him to hear. Qing smirked to herself as she muttered.

Then she tossed a torch.

A graceful arc of fire landed squarely on Wang Cheolgun’s belly.

No matter how deep your murderous intent, no one could pretend to be dead while their flesh was being seared.

That’s just the sad limit of the human body.

“GRAAAAGHHH! KEHHHHH—KRAH! AAAAARGH! XIMEN QING! I’LL KILL YOU! YOU FUCKING BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL—COUGH—HACK—BLECH—KILL YOU, I’LL KILL YOUUUU!!”

“Wow. You really are stubborn.”

Qing clucked her tongue again and, limping, picked up more torches scattered on the ground and chucked them one by one.

The resin-fed flames flared bright. She tossed a dozen more into the darkness, and soon his clothes caught fire.

A walking bonfire. Oh! I know this!

The honored lord of ash! I become the firewood!

Ecstatic, Qing hurled more torches.

Not even the Enlightened State could shield someone from the pain of burning alive.

Especially not with crushed legs and rotted innards.

So he screamed.

Pure agony. No more curses. Just raw, agonized screams that tore from his throat—because there was nothing else left to do but scream.

And with that, the howling, burning chaos of the night came to an end, as Wang Cheolgun could no longer resist the fire that devoured his body.

All that was left to Qing now was a body torn to shreds, unrelenting pain, and her clothes—soaked and stiff in the night air.

Ugh. Cold...

She scanned the area.

Her body was ruined. She needed a place to hide, a place to rest and tend to her internal wounds. But bandits were probably still crawling all over nearby.

She needed safety.

Then she spotted something pale and ghostly on the ground.

Ah. Right. It’s always darkest beneath the lamp.

Qing began crawling under the collapsed war tent.

****

Rustling. Voices.

She jerked upright with a gasp—but cried out immediately in pain.

A sharp, unbearable agony pierced her side like ten thousand needles twisting at once.

The phrase “the world went white” suddenly made perfect sense.

I literally can’t see a thing from the pain.

Once Qing came to her senses, she had to fight just to breathe past the suffocating weight of it all.

Only after the pain dulled a little did she feel the heavy pressure weighing down her entire body.

That’s when her mind finally cleared.

Ah. I must’ve passed out after taking a great restorative pill and doing some circulation yesterday. Guess I was too exhausted and fell asleep mid-process.

It was pitch black under the thick canopy of the war tent—so she couldn’t tell if her vision had returned—but at least her hearing seemed to be back.

She could make out the chaotic murmuring just beyond the tent.

—“Where was the main tent again?”

—“Wasn’t it out back? What if it’s not there either?”

—“Then she’s gone. What else? The main base burned, the boss burned, if she’s not in her own tent, then she must’ve gone up in flames too.”

Typical. Damn bandit bastards.

It sounded like some of them had come back, hoping to scavenge something good.

Hiding under the tent had been the right choice. If she’d tried lying out in the open or found a bed in one of the standing tents, she’d have been caught already.

Now then.

What do I do next?