Shaaack—!
Asura Lord's strange blade crashed down on the Meteor Hammer's chain.
Thud!
This time, Asura Lord's sword edge twisted. The chain wasn't cut—instead, it bounced his blade back. That was because Elder Jeolsudok's Meteor Hammer was an exceedingly rare weapon, crafted by twisting the sinews of a flood dragon thousands of times.
Fwoooosh!
From the sleeve of Elder Jeolsudok, several poisoned needles shot out toward the momentarily unbalanced Asura Lord.
Ting, ting-ting-ting!
Asura Lord hastily knocked them away with his misshapen blade, but he had to let go of the Meteor Hammer he was holding.
Elder Jeolsudok retrieved the hammer, spinning it once more as he spoke coldly:
"This time you won't be able to grab it. Before that, I'll tear your wrist apart."
Asura Lord's gaze hardened. He stopped laughing and let out an animalistic growl.
"Grrr… Then I'll sever your neck."
At that moment, clashes erupted across the battlefield as Asuradan warriors and Tang Clan disciples collided, the clang of steel exploding.
Claang!
"Waaaaahhh!"
"Kill them! Wipe them out!"
"Block them! We are Tang Clan!"
Screams and shouts shook the training yard in front of Tang Clan's Taedang Hall. Meanwhile, through the inner fortress gates, about four hundred Red Wolf troops began forming ranks.
And behind them, the main force of the Demonic Sect marched inside. One after another, black-path martial artists surged forward with menacing auras.
Meanwhile, toward Tang Cheolhyeon strode Mabul, robes fluttering. With a chilling smile, he spoke:
"I've only heard of you by reputation… So, you're the Venomous Hand?"
"You must be Mabul of the Small Brain Sound Sect. I've heard tales of your cruel temperament."
"Heh-heh-heh. Well now… Should I thank you for bravely stepping forward? I thought an old man past ninety would only command from behind, but since you've saved me the trouble, I'll make your death easy."
The words had barely ended before his left hand flicked.
Shraaaash!
The prayer beads he held scattered, the beads shooting at Tang Cheolhyeon like a rain of arrows.
A sudden ambush.
But Tang Cheolhyeon didn't panic.
For ambushes by hidden weapons, the Tang Clan was renowned as unrivaled under heaven—so his response was calm.
Expression showing he had expected it, Tang Cheolhyeon crossed his snake-like hands, wreathed in violet and black light, and thrust them forward.
Bwoooom!
From his palms erupted a dark poisonous mist, bursting the air apart.
Fssshhh—
The prayer beads that had flown close were swallowed by the black fog and melted into the ground.
The bizarre sight made Mabul's eyes tremble. Even the commander of the Red Wolf Troops watching from behind had his eyes glimmer.
Mabul let honest admiration show on his face.
"Well! The Black Fog Poison Palm? I heard one must reach the state of 'Poison Person' to unleash that."
Poison Person.
The ultimate realm that all who wield poison longed for, even in dreams.
Every strike unleashed carried deadly venom infused by inner power. Just brushing against it could be fatal; a direct hit meant instant death.
In three hundred and fifty years, since the last Poison Person appeared, none had surfaced in the martial world.
With killing intent heavy in his eyes, Tang Cheolhyeon spoke:
"You are quite knowledgeable. Then you realize—you've just provoked a tiger."
Mabul shrugged.
"As you say, Venomous Hand, I am well-informed. Which means—I also know the Poison Person's weakness."
"..."
"That every poisoned strike drains immense inner energy. In other words, if I evade a few times, your reserves will be almost spent."
"..."
"Old Venomous Hand, you revealed your realm as Poison Person to inspire hope in your disciples… but it's a foolish mistake. If you'd hidden it and saved it as a trump card, it would have been far better."
Tang Cheolhyeon's eye twitched. Mabul's words had truth.
But inside, he smiled. He judged it more important to show strength to disciples fighting desperately clinging to hope.
And more importantly, something could be inferred from Mabul's talk with the Red Wolf commander: that Mabul, insisting on the vanguard, was eager for glory.
Which meant he would come at full strength from the start—so Tang Cheolhyeon had to meet him head-on with equal ferocity.
If he tried to wait for an opening and ended up being pushed back, his disciples could be cast into despair and collapse instantly.
As Tang Clan's final bulwark, he had to stand strong and proud from the outset.
Tang Cheolhyeon's eyes blazed as he charged forward, laughing boldly.
"Ho-ho-ho! Before my inner power is spent, your body will melt away first!"
He donned a hero's headband of indigo silk. It would conceal the cold sweat on his brow and the wound on his head.
He draped on a glossy black long robe, luxurious in appearance. Even if blood seeped from the bandages on his chest, it would not be obvious.
Inside the halted carriage, Cheon Ryuyeong, having changed clothes, took a deep breath. Pyeong-u, who had helped him dress, spoke up.
"Brother."
Cheon Ryuyeong's pale face brightened with a faint smile as he looked back.
"Why? Are you scared?"
At that, Pyeong-u first looked incredulous, then chuckled.
"That was my question to you. Aren't you nervous? If I were in your shoes, I'd be terrified. You don't even know martial arts, and your body isn't in proper condition…"
Cheon Ryuyeong rose and answered:
"But I can't run away now. That means I have no choice but to go forward."
"You really do have a heart of steel."
"I believe in you. Guard me well."
Pyeong-u straightened his face and replied firmly:
"No one will so much as touch your sleeve. Not before I die."
Cheon Ryuyeong lightly tapped his shoulder with a smile.
Creak.
When he stepped out of the carriage, countless eyes turned toward him.
Namgung Su paced nervously, then suddenly grinned as if nothing had happened and came up.
"Hey! Clothes do make the man—you look like a different person. You don't look sick at all."
Cheon Ryuyeong tilted his head.
The sudden casual tone—though as the third son of Namgung Clan, he had the right to speak that way. Yet, until moments ago, he hadn't. It was odd.
Cheon Ryuyeong assumed the world's Blue Sky Dragon must be nervous too. Facing a horde of martial experts with such a small group was enough to make anyone's knees weak.
He never imagined Namgung Su might have started speaking casually because he thought of him as a friend.
Cheon Ryuyeong felt some vague suspicion, but now was not the time to dwell on it.
Dokgo Seol approached. She wanted to ask, "You're really alright, aren't you?" but instead smiled and said:
"You look amazing. I think I might fall for you."
Cheon Ryuyeong scratched the back of his head, replying:
"Like this? Bruised all over, eyes and lips swollen?"
"The swelling's gone down a lot. And since it's night, the bruises don't show much."
"That's a relief."
"Actually, the darker look from the bruises makes you seem more manly."
Cheon Ryuyeong let out a small laugh.
"Then I should get beaten up more often, if it earns such compliments from the famed beauty of the martial world, Qinghua herself."
Dokgo Seol's eyes flickered faintly. Just hearing "Qinghua" made her bristle, but she held it back.
"For you, I'll forgive anything. Anything… except one thing."
"Hm?"
"Don't die. That's all."
"Hahaha. I'm good with words, aren't I? Don't worry."
"I'm not joking."
Her expression was so serious that Cheon Ryuyeong was left speechless. Then Dokgo Seol extended the hand she had been hiding behind her back.
"A gift."
A command fan.
A general's fan, for signaling troops.
Seeing the golden fan with crimson tassels, Cheon Ryuyeong's face turned strange. For just an instant, it was as though he was recalling something he had once seen often, long ago.
But he quickly shook off the thought, bowed his head, and accepted it with both hands.
"Thank you."
Dokgo Seol bit her lip in slight dissatisfaction and said:
"Raise your head."
"Hm?"
"And receive it with one hand."
"..."
"Lord Cheon… is now our commander. A commander never bows his head to his subordinates."
Cheon Ryuyeong gave a sheepish, silent laugh.
"I see. From now on, I am the commander. That's right."
With a flushed face, Cheon Ryuyeong accepted the command fan from Dokgo Seol's hands.
Thump, thump-thump.
His heart pounded fiercely, but with a calm face he addressed those watching him.
"I place my trust in you all."
Everyone bowed their heads or bent at the waist toward Cheon Ryuyeong. Tang Hyemi in particular nearly touched her forehead to the ground.
Cheon Ryuyeong closed his eyes, drew in a long breath, and when he opened them again, his gaze was transformed.
The clear eyes once like a deep lake now burned with heat.
"Until the battle is over, forgive me if I speak without formality, or if my tone is rough."
Jo Jeonhu gazed at him with sorrowful eyes, tears threatening to spill as if Cheon might collapse at any moment.
How much pain must he be in? The suffering must be beyond measure…
Yet, contrary to his thoughts, Jo Jeonhu answered with a boisterous laugh:
"Ha-ha-ha! A rough-tongued Lord Cheon… all the better. You are our commander! And remember—you are my god."
Jang Deukmu, standing beside him, flusteredly cut in.
"Huh? Hero Jo, forgive me, but… a god? That seems—"
"A god does not die."
"...!"
Jang Deukmu's eyes widened in shock before he broke into a grin.
"I see. Lord Cheon, do not die. From this moment, you are our War God."
He slipped the word brother in naturally, while Hwa Ga yeon nodded vigorously and even clapped her hands in agreement.
Jo Jeonhu fixed his eyes straight on Cheon Ryuyeong and spoke like a shout:
"Do not fall, endure. And this battle—you must win it. I beg you, Cheon Ryuyeong, Lord Cheon. If you do, I'll carry you on my back for the rest of my life if I have to!"
Feeling the sincerity in his words, Cheon Ryuyeong smiled and stepped forward.
Before him stood the white horse he had ridden freely, unburdened by riders or cargo, kept clean for him alone.
It was the commander's mount.
Cheon Ryuyeong set his foot in the stirrup, leapt up, and in one motion landed on the saddle, seizing the reins.
Hiiiiigh!
The white horse neighed as if to welcome its master. His black robe billowed in the wind.
From the wound on his head came a sharp wave of dizziness, but he clenched his teeth. Turning the horse, he raised his voice with strength to those watching.
"In the name of the commander, I give my order!"
All eyes, faces flushed, fixed on his lips. Cheon Ryuyeong met each gaze in turn, then shouted again:
"March to battle!"
"At your command!"
The answer roared back as everyone hurried to their positions.
Cheon Ryuyeong swept his gaze over them, then turned his horse forward once more.
Thump, thump-thump.
His heart beat violently.
His first battle since formally stepping into the martial world—and he was the one leading it. The weight of command pressed heavily on his shoulders, far more than merely offering advice from the side.
Dokgo Seol rode up beside him, her tone excited, almost trembling.
"Preparations… are complete."
Seeing her nervousness, Cheon Ryuyeong smiled, gripping the command fan tightly. His heart steadied.
This was a new beginning. It was time to overturn the board itself—to turn the weak into the strong, and the strong into the weak.
"Let's go!"
The golden command fan pointed toward the Tang Clan's rearguard, faintly visible beyond the darkness.
Mabul was on the verge of madness, wanting to scream. Venomous Hand Tang Cheolhyeon was indeed as seasoned as his age suggested.
He did not recklessly waste his poison techniques, but mixed them sparingly, conserving his inner power. That forced Mabul into a passive role. Each time he withdrew to evade, Tang Cheolhyeon used the opening to strike down one more Asuradan disciple.
And once again, the same pattern repeated. As Mabul stepped back, the Venomous Hand lunged into the Asuradan ranks, cutting them down.
"Damn it!"
Curses burst from Mabul's mouth.
The Asuradan fought fiercely, driving the Tang Clan disciples back. Yet their own leader looked pathetic, forced into retreat again and again.
At least the overall battle tilted one-sided.
With no poison left, and even their hidden weapons deflected by shields, the Tang Clan disciples struggled simply to hold the line, unable to launch any offense.
"Gaaahhh!"
From time to time, screams tore the air—most of them belonging to Tang Clan warriors.
Mabul clicked his tongue.
Unsatisfying. As vanguard, he ought to rack up achievements. Yet with the Tang Clan entirely on the defensive, decisive gains came too slowly.
As if on cue, the Red Wolf commander of the Demonic Cult appeared behind him and spoke.
"We will join the assault."
"Give me a little more time—"
Before he could finish, another voice cut him off.
"We've waited long enough. This is a pointless war of attrition. Since the Tang Clan dogs cling to defense, overwhelming them with sheer power and numbers is the best course."
It was the Blood Priest Supreme Elder.
At his side stood both the Sub-Cult Master NoK Ak cheon and Palace Lord Sahyeolgang.
NoK Ak cheon spoke.
"Deputy Mabul, you must be deeply disheartened. But who could have guessed the Tang Clan master had reached the realm of Poison Person?"
Mabul answered with a bitter smile, but NoK Ak cheon's eyes gleamed with a sinister smile.
"If we continue this war of attrition, only your sect will suffer losses. Better to finish this quickly with a full assault, then sit back and share a cup of victory wine."
Though the words were smooth, the eyes and auras of all of them pressed Mabul hard. At last, he realized this was no time for stubbornness and stepped back.
"Very well."
Hollow.
His plans to claim glory had been shattered. He had not foreseen Tang Clan's master as a Poison Person, nor that the Tang Clan disciples would fight so fiercely in defense.
Watching him, the Blood Priest sneered inwardly.
Blinded by ambition, Mabul had underestimated the Tang Clan's resilience. He thought that losing their Formless Poison would break their spirit quickly—an utter miscalculation.
Even rotten fish has sharp bones.
NoK Ak cheon gave his order:
"Red Wolf Troops! White Wolf Troops!"
The two commanders of the Demonic Cult bowed as one and cried:
"Your command!"
"Join the Asuradan of the Small Brain Sound Sect. Crush the Tang Clan in one stroke!"
"At your command!"
The Palace Lord of the Four Blood Palace, Sa hyeolgang, also ordered his men:
"Erase the Tang Clan."
"At your command!"
The twelve hundred troops that had been watching at last surged into motion.
"Waaaaaaaahhh!"
Their battle cry made the heavens tremble. And finally, cracks began to spread in the Tang Clan's once-solid defensive line.