By Zephyria 
HF 73
===
The horses carrying Urkan and his subordinates, who had been galloping toward the campfire, refused to move, stamping their front hooves the moment they were exposed to the demonic energy. It was an instinctive fear that seized the beasts’ bodies.
Urkan dismounted and walked forward with heavy strides, gripping a massive dao. Beneath his broad shoulders, a belly band designed to protect his internal organs was wrapped tightly around his waist. It was their own unique method for enduring long periods of riding.
[Are you from the Demon Sect?]
Urkan asked the man standing before the unconscious figure in the language of the foreign tribes. Demonic energy surrounded the area to the point that it made the skin tingle, but Urkan was a brave warrior. The foreign tribes considered those who cultivated internal energy rather than external arts to be unmanly.
They sneered, wondering how poor their physical condition must be to have devised something called martial arts by learning complex heart methods. To them, overwhelming durability and strength were the only true forms of martial power.
However, even Urkan had never encountered demonic energy of this magnitude. Since the horses still refused to approach, several subordinates remained behind to guard them.
Yet, was this truly demonic energy? It was not the sticky, gloomy aura characteristic of demonic energy, but a pure, refined pressure. It felt as if it were on the same plane as the natural wonder of an endless great plain.
Urkan narrowed his eyes and examined his opponent. He had a completely ordinary appearance. Compared to his own tribe, his build was average; if they clashed in a test of strength, Urkan would undoubtedly win.
But the opponent was a demonic practitioner who had mastered a demonic art. Urkan did not let his guard down.
[I, Urkan, have never given you permission to step upon our land.]
The foreign tribes were equally hostile to both the orthodox and unorthodox sects. While they rarely attacked the Central Plains first, they showed no mercy to unwelcome guests who entered their lands without permission.
The easiest way to appease their anger was to pay a certain amount of toll, but this time, Urkan had no intention of accepting money.
The man with the ordinary face merely looked at those approaching with his head tilted. The foreign tribes did not even realize that it had taken them quite a long time to move forward due to the powerful demonic energy. They had been able to get close only because he had essentially permitted them to approach.
[Was there someone who could speak the language of the Central Plains?]
As Urkan asked while looking ahead, a subordinate—shirtless and wearing only a belly band—stepped forward from behind.
[Yes! O Urkan, I am Jollak, the brave son of Bordun.]
Jollak looked touched to be called upon by Urkan.
[Tell him that if he hands over that person, you alone will be allowed to leave safely. There are no other negotiations.]
Urkan spoke while repeatedly glancing at the man hidden behind Cheon Mu-gyeong. When he had seen him during the day, his hair was dark, but for some reason, it now had a grayish tint. He couldn’t have aged in that short time; perhaps the dyed hair had returned to its original color.
An ice palace inhabitant? Since they were heading north, that seemed correct. The man with the common face appeared to be the guard of that beautiful person, and judging by the aura he emitted, his martial prowess seemed considerable.
But no one can withstand sheer numbers. If one values their own life, they would gladly hand over the person they were protecting. Urkan was certain of this, having experienced similar situations many times before.
“Lord Urkan says: Hand him over.”
A distinct crack appeared on the forehead of the human-skin mask. Mu-gyeong took a few steps forward. Compared to his outward build, each step felt heavy. Urkan instinctively readjusted his grip on his dao, and his subordinates drew their bowstrings behind him.
“You say you want this seat, so I have personally come to you, yet your hospitality is excessive.”
Urkan looked at his subordinate, wondering what on earth he was saying.
[He says he will hand him over. Instead, he asks for a welcome.]
Urkan laughed with a deep expression.
[Tell him I can give him a horse so he may return in comfort.]
Urkan intended to give him a horse that obeyed no one but himself, only to watch the man be thrown from it. It would be even better if his neck snapped and he died.
“I will take the horse.”
Urkan, who had maintained a solemn face, frowned and looked at his subordinate. His eyes were filled with doubt as to whether the message had been conveyed correctly. He had spoken quite a bit, but the subordinate’s Central Plains language was excessively short, both then and now.
[O Urkan! The people of the Central Plains are impatient, so their speech is very short!]
The subordinate desperately made excuses, showing his yellow teeth and pleading for trust. The Central Plains language the subordinate actually knew was not even at the level of a five-year-old child.
K-ack! It was then. Suppressed screams erupted from the subordinates who had been aiming their bows from behind. When Urkan hurriedly looked back, he saw them struggling, their necks entwined by red demonic energy.
Not just one, but dozens of men were being pulled into the air as if gripped by a giant hand, their eyes filled with horror.
[You bastard! Where did you learn such wicked sulgub spells!]
Urkan roared and swung his dao at Cheon Mu-gyeong. Not a single point of internal energy was infused, but the external arts alone exerted a sufficiently destructive force. Cheon Mu-gyeong grabbed the blade of the dao, which had flown toward him to close the distance instantly, with his bare hand.
Fool. Urkan sneered, attempting to slice through the hand with force. However, despite facing the sharp edge, not a single part of the hand was cut. Only then did Urkan instinctively realize that something was wrong.
Snap! As Cheon Mu-gyeong’s red glint shifted toward the subordinates, the sound of neckbones breaking followed in succession. The subordinates’ heads slumped powerlessly, unable to utter a single scream.
It was the fifth movement of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art: Freedom.
The Heavenly Demon, who transcended laws, was not bound by the logic of the world, meaning he could even step outside the framework of established forms. It was an anomalous martial art where demonic energy materialized according to the Heavenly Demon’s will, allowing him to twist the enemy’s attacks as he pleased. Because it was also specialized in mass slaughter, everyone—not only the foreign tribes but also those in the Central Plains—had once been consumed by the fear of death when faced with his Heavenly Demon Divine Art.
Having dominated the air with waves of demonic energy, Cheon Mu-gyeong did not withdraw his aura; instead, he gripped Urkan’s sword and pushed it forward.
Urkan, holding the dao with both hands, gritted his teeth and tried to hold his ground, but he continued to be pushed back. It was an overwhelming martial power that brought back memories of his childhood, when he had sparred with his father and suffered a one-sided defeat.
[With mere tricks!]
The veins in Urkan’s temples looked as if they would burst, and the blood vessels in his neck strained. Murim practitioners, after all, are not even worth a single punch once their internal energy is depleted. Urkan shouted to his surviving subordinates.
[Attack from all sides!]
In his heart, he wanted to tell them to take the fallen man as a hostage, but it felt as if they were facing a giant iron fortress; they couldn’t even move in that direction.
Cheon Mu-gyeong looked indifferently at the struggling Urkan and recalled a time when his memories were still faint. Was Urkan’s skill only at this level? He felt like he had struggled more back then. Come to think of it, he had forgotten that his own martial prowess had become far more profound compared to that time. What he had gained in exchange for a tedious life was power more than enough to seize the Central Plains.
“How boring.”
Now, even this failed to be a simple amusement.
[He says it is boring!]
Jollak, who was swinging his sword, shouted loudly upon hearing a word he recognized. Eight swords and daos lunged toward Cheon Mu-gyeong’s body to pierce and slash, but it was like swinging twigs against a solid rock. The foreign tribes were frequently knocked over and dropped their weapons by the demonic art he unleashed.
Cheon Mu-gyeong did not endure the suffocating feeling of his body being confined by the emission of demonic energy. There was no reason to show such patience.
Crack, crunch—eerie sounds that made one’s skin crawl emanated from Mu-gyeong. As immense heat radiated in all directions, a shimmering haze appeared behind him. The intense fire demon, capable of burning the entire prairie, was a trace of lava that the foreign tribes had never experienced.
The spine, which had been forcibly compressed, surged upward like a main pillar, and muscles fluctuated and expanded wildly. It was a moment that did not end in an instant; as the qi and blood were released all at once, a steam of flames crushed everything around them.
Urkan was seized by a hallucination that the entire prairie was ablaze. A massive tidal wave of fire, capable of burning his entire homeland, was rising from the man. It was a fiery hell swallowing the plains.
As the smoke, which seemed to flow from lava, scattered in the wind, a man as towering as a great mountain stood there. The human-skin mask that had covered his face burned away, and the remaining debris vanished, swept away by the wind.
The overwhelming fire demon caused the foreign tribes’ lungs to burn and die; the only survivors were Urkan, who barely endured, and Jollak, who had been pushed back endlessly.
The face revealed beneath the human-skin mask was a man of such beauty it was almost grotesque. And what of his build? He was so massive that one wondered if it was even possible to compress such a frame using the bone-shrinking technique. Urkan and Jollak were completely dazed, but Urkan was the first to regain his senses.
A sword as thick as a forearm thrust sharply toward the nape of Cheon Mu-gyeong’s neck. He avoided it with a light tilt of his head. Not bad. Cheon Mu-gyeong lightly brushed the spot where the sword had passed without touching him.
Urkan, having discarded his dao, attacked Cheon Mu-gyeong with a slaughtering knife with a sharply honed edge. While the dao was handled with strength, the meat knife aimed only for vital points. He persistently targeted the thick blood vessels in the front of the neck and the subclavian artery of the collarbone. Even a shallow cut in those areas would result in massive bleeding.
[Wicked bastard! Draw your sword!]
Urkan, who had become like a small child standing before a tiger, shouted in frustration. Jollak, the brave son of Bordun, sensed the sign of defeat and tried to flee. If Urkan died here, Murchi was the most likely candidate to become the next tribal leader. Just as he was about to mount his horse to switch allegiances…
Urkan, lowering his body nimbly, picked up the dao he had dropped and threw it toward the back of Jollak’s head. With a crunch—the sound of a skull shattering—Jollak’s body collapsed forward.
Even though Jollak was the only surviving subordinate, Urkan did not hesitate to take his life. Urkan, breathing heavily, swung his knife at the man before him once more. As he continued to attack a phantom, Urkan now felt more curiosity than anger toward the existence before him.
It felt as if he were facing a natural disaster or an evil god that no human could stop. A sense of futility washed over him as the external arts he had built up for decades crumbled in a single moment. The man’s words about being bored, as translated by Jollak, must have been the truth, not a mistranslation.
He had simply followed because he had never seen an opponent who could make the organs in his stomach vibrate so strongly, and now he was about to lose his life. His father had said that only the strong can obtain a beauty, and there wasn’t a single word of that which was wrong. Urkan poured all his remaining strength into speed.
He feigned a thrust at the man’s neck and then let go of the knife. He intended to catch the falling knife with his other hand and stab the femoral artery in the thigh. However, it was Cheon Mu-gyeong who took the knife.
“A fine blade. It would be perfect for slicing the belly of a snake.”
He spoke while turning the slaughtering knife over in his hands.
This was the last move he could squeeze out. Having completely lost the will to fight, Urkan simply stood there with a hollow expression. He saw no way to defeat this man by any means.
[Are you… perhaps the Cult Leader of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult?]
Urkan felt that his own words were absurd, but there was no other way to explain it. The Cult Leader was said to be called a god; if the man before him was not the god of the demonic practitioners, then just how terrible a demon’s den was the Demon Sect?
Since he was about to die by the very blade he had used to slaughter hundreds of beasts, Urkan cast a final glance behind the man. For he had come this far because he wanted that person. He had been truly foolish to be so arrogant as to think he could easily obtain them.
Yet, despite the commotion, the figure he thought was lying down had pushed himself up with both arms. He was staring this way with a look of profound shock.
Urkan let out a low sigh. If that person had been asleep, he might have made a final desperate attempt to run away, but he did not want his final moments to be pathetic in front of the one he admired.
[I have lost. Kill me. I cannot beg for my life while that person is watching.]
Urkan knelt before Mu-gyeong. Then, Cheon Mu-gyeong withdrew his indifferent gaze from Urkan and slowly turned his body.
Thump. At Mu-gyeong’s unexpected movement, Ho-yeon flopped flat onto the ground. Ho-yeon closed his eyes tightly, as if he were someone who had never woken up. He pressed his hand firmly against his chest, fearing that the sound of his pounding heart might leak out.
The guard…
The guard was Cheon Mu-gyeong…!