Chapter 126

Chapter 126
## Chapter 126: Azure Sword Command (3)

‘The scale is overwhelming.’

Seomun Sang, the presiding leader of the Golden Sword Sect, bit his lip until it nearly bled as he took in the sheer magnitude of the hostile forces gathering on the horizon.

The quantity of enemies already in view was terrifying, and there was no way to calculate how many more were concealed in the shadows behind the front lines.

By comparison, the coalition gathered at the Golden Sword Sect numbered fewer than two hundred warriors. Half of this small force consisted of his own disciples, while the rest were those who had answered the call for help. It was a far cry from the reinforcements he had anticipated.

‘If we had been granted just a few more days.’

It was Seomun Sang’s bitter assessment that the Azure Sword Command had been issued far too late. Had the signal been given the moment the first whispers of the Heavenly Demon Cult’s movements were heard, they wouldn’t be facing such a catastrophic numerical disparity. At the very least, they could have met the enemy on equal footing.

“Those fools.”

A sharp curse escaped his lips.

His resentment wasn’t directed at the Nangong Clan.

It was aimed at the Murim Alliance, which had remained paralyzed by petty internal politics even after the threat of the Heavenly Demon Cult had been verified. He felt certain that the delay in activating the Azure Sword Command was because the Nangong Clan had spent too much time placing their faith in the indecisive Alliance.

“Hoo.”

Seomun Sang exhaled a long, steadying breath and turned to face the martial artists who were looking to him for leadership.

“Even at this very moment, allies are racing from every corner of the land to reach us. If we can simply survive this initial onslaught, victory can still be ours. But make no mistake, it will be a gruesome struggle. We will likely lose many brothers and sisters today. Regardless, we must stand. We must hold this ground at all costs to prevent the Heavenly Demon Cult from desecrating our home. Do not fight with the hope of survival. Fight with the conviction to protect this soil—our legacy—with your final breaths. We are capable of this.”

“Waaah!”

“To the death!”

The moment Seomun Sang finished his address, the warriors of the Golden Sword Sect and their allies roared in defiance. He made eye contact with the men, offering silent encouragement, before turning to the masters who had brought their respective groups.

“My sect will anchor the center. I am placing the safety of the left and right wings in your hands.”

“Wind Snow Stronghold will secure the left flank.”

A burly, middle-aged warrior stepped forward, striking his chest with resolve. Although his group wasn’t massive, the prestigious sect known for honing elite talents showed no signs of fear.

“The right flank is our responsibility.”

The heads of Concord Gate and Grand Blade Hall shared a meaningful look and stepped up together.

“My thanks to you all.”

Seomun Sang offered a shallow bow, masking his underlying anxiety.

He was well aware that their combat prowess didn’t quite reach the level of the Wind Snow Stronghold, but in their current predicament, every sword was a vital asset.

“I wish you all the favor of the heavens in battle.”

Just as Seomun Sang offered his final respects, a thunderous roar erupted, vibrating through the sky and the very earth beneath their feet.

—

“Move faster!”

Nangong Kyung of the Soaring Heaven High Sword tore across the open plains at a frantic pace, his expression sharp with dread.

While returning from a diplomatic visit to the Hahou Clan, he had received word of the imminent strike against the Golden Sword Sect by the Heavenly Demon Cult and had immediately pivoted south.

He had expected to have a day or two of leeway, but the enemy’s advance had been shockingly rapid. Even though he was pushing his horses and men to their absolute limits, he feared he was already too late.

“We have to stop, Uncle.”

Nangong Po pulled alongside him to intercept his path.

“What are you doing? The Golden Sword Sect is likely being besieged as we speak!”

“There is no other way. We have been in the saddle for three days and nights without pause. If we continue at this rate, even if we reach the gates, we will be too exhausted to draw our swords. We will be useless.”

Nangong Po shook his head with grim finality.

Only then did Nangong Kyung look back to see his retainers struggling for air.

Their breathing was shallow and frantic, their complexions sickly—they were on the verge of total physical collapse.

“Hah! You speak the truth. I see it now. We will take a brief rest.”

Relieved by Nangong Kyung’s concession, Nangong Po shouted to the weary men.

“As you are all aware, our time is limited. Use these few moments to recover as much strength as you possibly can!”

Looking with pity at the retainers who collapsed wherever they stood, Nangong Po bowed toward Nangong Kyung.

“My apologies, Uncle.”

“No. In my desperation, I nearly led us into a fatal error.”

Nangong Kyung offered a pained smile and shook his head.

“The Leader of the Golden Sword Sect is a resilient man. He will hold. Do not lose heart.”

Knowing the deep personal ties between Seomun Sang and Nangong Kyung, Nangong Po tried to offer what comfort he could.

“I hope you are right, but the odds are stacked against them.”

Understanding the sheer volume of the Heavenly Demon Cult forces marching toward the Golden Sword Sect, Nangong Kyung harbored deep doubts about their longevity. The only unpredictable factor was the Azure Sword Command, which had successfully mobilized the various southern sects. He could only hope that many were currently converging on the site.

‘We are almost there. Please, hold the line.’

Nangong Kyung focused on regulating his own breath, his mind fixed on the image of his old friend.

—

“Perish!”

Driven to a state of near-madness by the sight of his disciples being slaughtered, Yeo Mun-tak, the leader of Concord Gate, swung his massive broadsword with frantic energy at Muk Ho-cheop, the young successor of the Black Dragon Mok Clan.

The blade, which was nearly as wide as a child’s body, carved through the air with enough force to shatter stone.

However, a mocking grin remained fixed on Muk Ho-cheop’s face as he observed the attack.

With a fluid shift of his weight, he avoided the heavy blade with ease and lunged into the opening at Yeo Mun-tak’s chest.

Yeo Mun-tak desperately tried to pull his weapon back to defend, but the youth’s speed was superior.

Muk Ho-cheop lunged with his left hand, gripping Yeo Mun-tak’s wrist firmly to pin the sword hilt, and drove his right shoulder into the older man’s torso.

A flurry of relentless strikes then rained down upon the staggering leader.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Mo Sa-chung of the Grand Blade Hall arrived too late to intervene. He charged forward with desperate intent, but he was forced to watch as Yeo Mun-tak breathed his last.

As he saw Yeo Mun-tak fall, eyes still open in shock, Mo Sa-chung felt his heart sink. The realization that Muk Ho-cheop could dismantle a seasoned master so effortlessly was paralyzing.

True to his fears, Mo Sa-chung couldn’t form a viable defense before Muk Ho-cheop’s whirlwind of strikes forced him to the ground, his life extinguished.

“It appears the cleanup here is finished.”

Having dismantled the right flank by killing both Yeo Mun-tak and Mo Sa-chung, Muk Ho-cheop caught his breath and surveyed the carnage of the field.

“The end is near.”

It was exactly as Muk Ho-cheop observed.

The right side had disintegrated, and the left was being utterly crushed.

The warriors of the Golden Sword Sect, faced with a vastly larger army, had fought with every scrap of their willpower, but the numbers were simply too great.

It wasn’t merely a matter of quantity; the individual soldiers of the Heavenly Demon Cult were fundamentally more skilled than the sect defenders. This was particularly true of the Black Dragon Mok Clan warriors, who had wiped out the left flank in a heartbeat; their combat ability was terrifying to behold.

“Once that man is dealt with, it will be over completely.”

Muk Ho-cheop shifted his focus to the one figure who stood out like a lone crane among common birds.

It was Seomun Sang, still fighting with heroic ferocity.

“His skill is truly remarkable.”

Muk Ho-cheop couldn’t help but voice his respect.

From the start of the engagement, Seomun Sang had been at the forefront, cutting down scores of Myriad Death Valley warriors who tried to swarm him. He was single-handedly proving why he was considered one of the five greatest masters of the southern regions. It was no overstatement to say that the majority of the losses suffered by Myriad Death Valley were his doing alone.

Yet, even a hero of his caliber could not turn the tide of a lost war. Furthermore, Myriad Death Valley—having been tasked by Mok Noe-gang to lead the central push only to be embarrassed by a single man—was now obsessed with taking his head.

Under the weight of infinite assaults and coordinated strikes from every direction, Seomun Sang’s body began to accumulate deep gashes, and his internal reserves of energy were nearly tapped out.

‘The Lord of Wind Snow Stronghold.’

Unlike the rapid fall of the right wing, Deung Il-pyeong of the Wind Snow Stronghold had resisted until the bitter end, but he too finally succumbed.

Upon witnessing his fall, a shadow of despair finally crossed Seomun Sang’s eyes. With both flanks shattered, the center would be overwhelmed in moments. Every path to victory had been closed.

“What are you waiting for? End him!”

At the command of Elder Eom Jung from Myriad Death Valley, the surrounding enemies lunged forward simultaneously.

A chaotic web of sword light filled the air, every blade sharpened by the intent to kill, all converging on Seomun Sang.

Watching the demons close in, Seomun Sang bit his lip until blood ran down his chin.

Drawing upon the very last droplets of his internal strength, his prized weapon, Crimson Blossom, ignited with a final, brilliant glow.

A wave of sword qi exploded from Crimson Blossom, radiating outward in a shockwave that seemed to make the world tremble.

Taking advantage of the split-second opening as the attackers recoiled, Seomun Sang leaped high and threw Crimson Blossom with everything he had left.

The sword streaked through the air like a falling star, aimed directly at the figure in the rear: Valley Lord Dong Chuk of Myriad Death Valley, who had been watching the fight with a look of irritation.

“Valley Lord!”

Eom Jung screamed out in panic.

But Dong Chuk was already moving.

Seomun Sang’s final, desperate gamble collided with Dong Chuk’s blade in mid-air.

Boom!

A thunderous explosion rang out, and a massive cloud of debris and dust enveloped Dong Chuk.

“Valley Lord!”

Eom Jung rushed to the scene, frantically trying to see through the haze.

“I am quite alright. Stop your whining.”

Dong Chuk stepped out from the dust, a cynical smirk on his face.

His sword had been snapped down to the handle and his robes were in tatters—but he was otherwise unharmed.

“A commendable effort for a dying man.”

Aware of his subordinates watching, Dong Chuk brushed off his clothes with an air of casual indifference, though his fingers betrayed a slight tremor.

“Hah!”

A heavy, defeated sigh escaped Seomun Sang when he saw that Dong Chuk still stood. In his final act, he had hoped to take a high-ranking enemy with him, but even that had failed.

“Kill him now!”

Furious that their leader had been threatened, the enemy pack howled and charged once more.

Having poured every last bit of energy into that final throw, Seomun Sang stood defenseless, unable to raise a hand to stop them.

—

“Ugh.”

Do Kyung, the most skilled hunter in the region, lay face-down on the earth, shaking uncontrollably. Right next to him, a massive tiger—the size of a small cabin—was taking its final, rattling breaths, its neck nearly torn through.

Do Kyung could not make sense of what he had just witnessed.

He had been making his way home through the mountains late at night when he ran into the tiger. It was terrible luck, but a hunter knew that the wild was a place of sudden death.

If he had been tracking the beast from a distance, he might have stood a chance—but facing the king of the mountain in a surprise confrontation meant only a quick death.

Then, the impossible occurred.

A wolf appeared out of the darkness, lunged at the tiger—which was nearly double its size—grabbed it by the neck, and slammed it violently into the ground.

With two sickening impacts, the apex predator of the mountain was broken.

When the wolf that had neutralized a tiger in seconds turned toward him, Do Kyung prepared himself to be eaten.

“Whic…h… way…”

Hearing the distorted, gravelly voice, Do Kyung looked up despite his fear. He saw a wolf with eyes that burned like the fires of the underworld, and a human figure was perched precariously on its back.

Do Kyung could only stare in a daze until the wolf let out a low, menacing growl. Terrified, he pointed toward the east.

“Th-that way. Go over that peak and keep heading east…”

The strange figure on the wolf’s back looked up slightly.

After confirming the direction of the mountain peak illuminated by the moon, the figure looked back down.

“Le…t’s… go…”

As the man’s voice seemed to drift away, Do Kyung looked up again—only to find that the terrifying wolf and its rider had already vanished into the night.