Chapter 488: Cheon Seol-hwan, the reborn Heavenly Demon

There were two major continents in Estria.

Well, technically there were three, but the northern one was a frozen wasteland that almost everyone preferred to ignore.

The first was the western continent, ruled by the three great Empires.

The other was a strange land, at least to Westerners. Its language deviated from the standard established by the Nine, and its architecture, though beautiful, struck Westerners as foreign and strange.

From the great Empire that ruled it under what they called the Mandate of Heaven, to the many sects and lesser powers locked in endless conflict, everything there seemed to belong to another world.

It was a rainy day in the northwestern region of that continent, within one of its three forbidden zones.

Known as the Valley of the Forgotten Lotus, it was a lawless land, dominated by creatures of the night and brutal independent forces.

The sky was so thick with black clouds that it looked like night in broad daylight. Terrifying bolts of lightning lit up the horizon, and thunder rolled through the valley like a beast clearing its throat.

Amid that storm, blood flowed ceaselessly, mixing with the rain and the mud.

A massive western palace was ablaze. The heat shattered the windowpanes one by one, and the smell of smoke and iron hung heavy in the air.

Inside, hooded and masked men fought relentlessly against heavily armored soldiers. Screams, the clang of steel against steel, and the crash of doors being torn from their hinges echoed through the corridors.

One by one, the soldiers fell.

The fire had naturally alerted the city’s soldiers, who were stationed around the palace. But none of them could help.

They were caught in a battle of their own, with thousands of enemy soldiers storming the walls.

Amid the flames and the cherry blossoms, in the palace’s spacious and luxurious central courtyard, stood a young man.

His black hair was elegantly tied back, though a few stray strands had already come loose and clung to his face, wet with rain and sweat.

His features were delicate, and his bright blue eyes were tense and half-closed.

He raised his weapon, its aura glowing a deep blue, and deflected a blade that whistled toward him.

With a sharp movement, he flung it aside and stumbled several steps back, his boots slipping among the wet petals and mud.

"Shit!"

He planted his feet and spun, trying to dodge two more blades. One of them grazed his arm, tearing through the sleeve and the flesh beneath.

He didn’t even have time to groan. The third blade was already racing straight for his throat, and he had to defend himself desperately, his arms growing heavier with every strike.

"My Lord!"

One of his personal guards saw the danger his Lord was in. He abandoned his own fight and rushed to help.

A metallic clang rang out as the guard’s weapon struck the flat of the blade aimed at the young man’s neck, sending it spinning away.

The guard tried to turn back in time to return to his battle, but it was already too late.

A blow from behind shattered his armor with a sharp crack and pierced his heart.

The man stood motionless for an instant, eyes wide, air escaping his lungs in a hoarse gasp. Then he collapsed into the mud.

"Ah... son of a bitch!"

Watching his most loyal subordinate die, the young man struggled to control the rage burning in his chest.

His gaze fell on a shadowy figure standing a few steps away, watching the battle with utter disinterest.

He was a young man like him, only far more handsome, with a cold beauty that seemed out of place amid so much blood and fire.

His eyes were a deep blood-red, and his black hair was gradually taking on that same color, strand by strand.

Around him, a terrifying red aura kept three blades floating in the air, all pointed at his opponent. The elegant black robes he wore danced gently in the stormy wind, but not a single raindrop touched him.

Both were Golden Lords, but they stood on completely different levels.

The red-eyed young man tilted his head slightly, looking down at his opponent, his eyelids half-drooped.

"Are you going to kill yourself?" His voice came out low and cold, cruel as a demon’s growl. "I’m waiting."

His hands remained clasped behind his back in an elegant pose. He hadn’t even drawn his main sword.

The blue-eyed young man clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw began to ache. He gave no reply.

His knee buckled, and he dropped to the ground, panting. Then, suddenly, he slammed his fist into the earth and roared.

His power exploded around his body in a wave of blue light, sending water, mud, and petals flying in all directions.

The red-eyed young man didn’t even blink. His robes barely stirred.

Staggering, the blue-eyed young man pushed himself up and took a single step forward.

The young man in black let out a short, bored sigh.

In the blink of an eye, he passed his opponent, his body turning into a blur. A flash of steel tore through the rain, too fast for the eye to follow.

blue-eyed young man’s legs gave way, and he fell to his knees once more.

A pitiful scream echoed across the courtyard. The blue-eyed young man clutched at his right arm, or rather, the place where it had been. All that remained was a bloody stump.

The severed arm spun through the air and landed in the mud with a wet thud.

The red-eyed young man slid his sword back into its sheath without even looking back.

The sharp click of steel locking into place rang out clearly, and in the next moment, the pitiful screams ceased.

The blue-eyed young man’s head rolled across the ground, and his body collapsed shortly afterward.

The young man in black looked down at the severed arm betwen his fingers. The hand was still clenched around the sword hilt, rigid and stubborn, even without an owner.

"Hm... this one is weaker than the others..." he murmured.

This was the tenth Golden Lord he had killed, and the one who had given him the least trouble.

Disappointed, he threw the arm into the mud. A faint pulse of red aura swept the blood from his fingers, and he crossed his hands behind his back once more.

The battle around him had already ended, the last defenders of that Golden Lord falling without a chance to resist.

The red-eyed young man’s subordinates had finished the slaughter. They knelt all at once, their weapons dripping blood onto the stones.

They stayed completely motionless, and beneath their masks, their expressions were impossible to read.

That man was their Lord, Cheon Seol-hwan, the reborn Heavenly Demon, Supreme Lord of the new Demonic Cult.

’I wonder if my little sister is all right...’ he thought, but his face remained unchanged.

Behind that cold demeanor, only his fingers, hidden behind his back, clenched for an instant.

With a wave of his hand, Seol-hwan ordered his soldiers to continue the cleanup.

In silence, the hooded men rose and scattered throughout the burning palace, their boots splashing through puddles of water and blood.

That man was Kim Seo-ah’s older brother, heir to the destiny of the Lord of the Demonic Cult, and one of the most powerful figures in modern Korean fantasy.

At present, he was the most powerful Golden Lord of all of Korea.