Chapter 580

Black storm clouds.

True to the name Black Cloud, they hang in the air.

But this is not the Black Cloud I saw before. It has evolved into something more sophisticated, more complete.

Peng Dojun’s martial art is different from the Peng Family’s combat style as I knew it.

How should I put this?

It’s refined.

Refined. Yes. That is the right word.

It does not simply destroy and crush. Countless soft, almost delicate elements fill the space around it, entirely befitting the name Black Cloud.

Yet I can still see the destructive power capable of flattening everything around it.

That is what makes it strange.

Maintaining that much power while controlling it so precisely...

What kind of martial art is it?

Maybe my eye has improved, but I can see a great deal in Peng Dojun’s martial art.

Especially—

It doesn’t suit him.

More precisely, it is a method Peng Dojun has never been good at using.

Hadn’t the Heavenly Demon said it himself? The Peng Family’s martial artists overwhelm their opponents through overwhelming physical ability.

Peng Dojun possessed the finest body ever born into the Peng Family. The way he fought was practically every flaw the Heavenly Demon had described, all rolled into one.

Raw physical ability more than sufficient to compensate for it.

Martial arts burdened with limitations. Martial arts that fell just short of being called divine arts.

Maybe—

Could Peng Dojun change even that?

Could the Heavenly Martial Body allow him to break through even that wall?

At this point, perhaps the opportunity the Heavenly Demon mentioned was—

Because Peng Dojun is trying to escape the Peng Family’s flaws.

He had the finest body and talent. He might have become the greatest man under heaven even without divine arts, yet now he was finally walking the right path.

And on top of that—

Was that the martial art Blade God left behind?

He was not simply moving forward on his own. If he was using a martial art Blade God had created for the family...

That might truly be called an opportunity.

If they overcame their flaw, perhaps the Peng Family might finally have a chance to soar.

Watching Peng Dojun’s martial art, that thought surfaced in my mind without my noticing.

It was that impressive.

[Blade God left behind something fascinating.]

The Heavenly Demon sounded thoroughly entertained.

It was unusual for him to react that strongly.

What kind of martial art is it?

I stare at Peng Dojun.

Then—

CRUMBLE...

“Hm?”

My gaze shifts to the side.

Heavenly Sword is sitting there, sword in hand, looking thoroughly disheveled.

Then it happens.

CRACK.

“...!”

At the sound of something breaking, my hand goes to my sword.

What?

Something—

Something is happening.

*****

How far was he supposed to go?

It was a question that had haunted him for a long time.

He could not remain where he was. But if he moved forward, he did not know which direction to take.

The young boy agonized over it again and again.

“You must become °• N ?? v ?? l i g h t •° the Heavenly Demon.”

What was the Heavenly Demon?

“Become the god of the Holy Cult.”

Was the Heavenly Demon a god?

How could a mere human become a god? Was that even possible in the first place?

The boy did not understand his parents’ futile wish.

How petty and arrogant it was. That pitiful wish had cost them even their lives.

Did such a thing have any meaning?

He did not know.

The boy had no idea how to fill the emptiness inside him.

What meaning did it have?

What meaning had there been in their belief, their hope, their goal?

Since he had no beliefs, hopes, or goals of his own, their wish naturally became his goal.

The people who had planted it in him were already gone.

Yet it remained his goal.

The Holy Cult had driven them out.

The fact that he had survived at all was a miracle. His parents were dead, while their useless, foolish son remained alive.

What could a boy with nothing do on barren land?

There was not much.

He picked up a sword.

He took what he could take.

It was what he had to do to survive.

Xinjiang was a closed-off land. Even if many things had changed after the former Heavenly Demon’s death, it was not a place where an orphaned child could live alone.

The outskirts.

People still lived there, but they were scarcely worthy of being called human.

The life waiting for him there was narrow and brutal enough to make the Beggars’ Union’s beggars seem fortunate.

He killed someone before he was ten.

He had needed to survive.

He had always been good at moving his body. At eight, he had beaten a grown man with ease.

The people around him called him a genius.

They said he did not belong in a place like that. They said he should catch the Cult’s attention and become a great Demonic Cultist.

Ridiculous.

At best, I would become a Demonic Cultist.

To them, a better life meant becoming one of the Cult’s Demonic Cultists.

What difference was there between that place and this one? Would going there let him escape a dirty, filthy life?

At some point, he had simply drifted here.

There had long been no place left for him in the Holy Cult.

Heavenly Demon.

What was it that made people unable to resent it so easily?

It was fucking hateful.

The boy crushed that goal beneath his heel and resented the Heavenly Demon instead. He had nowhere else to direct his hatred, so that was what he chose to blame.

That was how he lived.

He did not even understand death properly. He simply kept living.

When life was hard, he endured it.

When he was hungry, he starved.

And if there was anything he could do to stay alive, he did it.

He had thought he was not attached to life.

Looking back, he probably wanted to live.

So he lived.

Then, when he was thirteen—

“Strange.”

One day, while killing someone as he always did to survive, he encountered a being he could not kill.

No.

Perhaps it had already been dead.

“A truly strange thing.”

An old man brushed aside the boy’s sword, forced him to his knees, and looked down at him.

It was the first time.

The first time he had felt fear toward another person.

The instant their eyes met, something inside him lurched.

He trembled, lowered his head, and bowed.

He could not dare meet the old man’s eyes.

“Your soul is dead, yet your eyes are not.”

His instincts were sharp. His talent was extraordinary.

“How did I come across a boy like you in a place like this? Tsk, tsk... Is this an opportunity too?”

The old man muttered words the boy could not understand.

“Yes. An opportunity to struggle. I will believe that.”

The old man lowered his gaze.

His upper body gradually bent closer, and his eyes drew nearer.

With every movement, the pounding of the boy’s heart seemed to constrict his entire body.

“I will not ask your name. I do not care. From this moment on, you will become my disciple. I swore I would never accept a second one, even if it killed me... Consider this an honor.”

Grinning, the old man continued.

“And I will ask you only one thing.”

“What do you want to become?”

It was a question about his goal.

The instant he heard it, the boy answered before he realized it.

“The Heavenly Demon...”

“The Heavenly Demon? Hahahaha.”

The old man laughed harshly at his answer.

“A dying little thing says something unexpected. If you want it, then become one. It is too late to worry about such things now.”

The old man wanted only one thing from the boy.

“If you mean to achieve what you desire, then do it. But remember one thing. I do not care what you become.”

That was not the old man’s true wish.

“Azure Moon Sect.”

“...Azure Moon Sect?”

“Destroy Azure Moon Sect. That is what you must do.”

Those words became another goal within him.

“If you accomplish that alone, I will give you the world.”

What he made with the old man then was undoubtedly a deal.

One he could not refuse.

“...Haaah.”

Heavenly Sword lets out a long breath.

The pain coursing through his battered body is unpleasantly clear.

How long had it been since he had felt pain?

The grinding sensation running through him is thoroughly unpleasant.

He raises his eyes.

His unfocused vision slowly returns.

Something obscures his sight.

Blood?

“Do you want time to wipe that off?”

The giant standing before him speaks.

Peng Dojun of the Peng Family.

Heavenly Sword smiles faintly.

“How kind of you.”

“I’m about to give you a thorough beating. It would be troublesome if you were exhausted already.”

“Ahaha. What a frightening thing to say. I can only wonder why you are so angry.”

“...You wonder?”

Peng Dojun’s eyes turn savage.

“After you dismissed both me and my family so completely, you can still say that?”

“That was not dismissal.”

What had he said again?

Heavenly Sword searches through his memory.

“A very simple martial art.”

That was probably it.

He had watched the Peng Family’s martial arts and made that judgment.

A black greatblade wrapped in black energy.

After seeing it swing through the air, that was what he had said.

He had deciphered it in a single exchange and copied it immediately afterward. He had used it himself, but it did not suit his body. Compared to his other martial arts, it felt clumsy.

He had judged it unremarkable.

He had merely said so.

Yet the man before him had frozen in place, apparently offended that Heavenly Sword had copied the martial art and said as much.

“It does not seem worthy of being called divine arts.”

He still remembered how Peng Dojun had gone rigid at those words.

There had been no need to face him again, and Heavenly Sword had someone else on his mind.

So he ignored him.

“I did not expect you to have been hiding something like this.”

He had let his guard down.

And he admitted that he had been wrong.

Peng Dojun had sharp fangs.

Could he use something like this? I do not know what he has experienced.

He had not even noticed.

Perhaps—

He had been holding back.

A man of the Peng Family.

If Peng Dojun had not intended to go easy on him, Heavenly Sword would already have been beaten.

It had been that kind of strike.

A divine art so profound that he could not grasp a thing about it.

I want it.

He wanted that power.

The mercy Peng Dojun had shown him mattered far less than that.

“Heh heh...”

A laugh escapes him.

“What are you laughing at?”

“I apologize. Too many unexpected things have happened in such a short time.”

Were all orthodox martial artists like this?

Cloud Dragon and Poison Dragon had not been.

Perhaps they had hidden something too.

He was curious.

And the curiosity made his blood run hot.

I thought only the Young Cult Leader could do things like this.

That man.

A truly strange man, impossible to understand even a little of what he pursued.

He had thought no one but the man who had risen to the position of Young Cult Leader could give him that feeling.

Moon Hero, and this Black Greatblade too.

There seemed to be more interesting people than he had expected.

Heavenly Sword rises.

“Thank you. I have seen something interesting.”

“I was not looking for your thanks. I told you already.”

WHOOSH!

The massive blade swings toward him.

“From now on, I am going to beat you within an inch of your life.”

“Ahaha. Then please accept my apology in advance.”

Heavenly Sword starts to move.

“I do not think that will be possible. I have seen something worthwhile as well, so I believe I should show you something.”

“What?”

His master had told him not to use it.

But it seemed he had no choice but to try.

There are too many eyes on me.

Demonic Cultists filled the area, and high-ranking figures were surely watching from above.

I do not care.

Heavenly Sword simply wanted to do it.

SSSSSSS—!!!

Energy rises around him.

Heavenly Sword looks at Moon Hero.

At that very moment, Moon Hero is watching him as well.

Watch carefully.

That question.

Hadn’t Moon Hero asked whether he had ever properly learned anything besides imitation?

He had.

How could he not?

He had learned it until he nearly died.

At the same time, it was the martial art he was worst at.

He had honed this sword for the Young Cult Leader alone.

To think he would draw it here.

Suppressing his regret, Heavenly Sword moves.

And his sword draws a reaction.

“...What? Are you insane?”

Bang Seongyeon’s eyes widen.

How could they not?

“Why is that coming out here?”

The martial art Heavenly Sword is using.

The force wrapped around his sword.

It is—

Yoo Cheongil’s martial art?

It bears a striking resemblance to Yoo Cheongil’s martial art rather than Azure Moon Sect martial arts.

There is only one difference.

He is using demonic qi.

That alone is different.