Chapter 152

Chapter 152
## Chapter 152: Thousand Li Plateau (3)

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In the center of the gruesome war zone, amidst the chaotic symphony of shrieks, the spray of crimson, and the sudden rending of limbs—a place where the boundary between the living and the dead vanished in a heartbeat—a lone man stood out for his bizarre behavior.

“My, my, are you intent on slaughtering your own side as well? What is the logic behind spraying toxins so indiscriminately?”

“Even in the heat of a life-or-death struggle, are you unaware that using a heavy cleaver meant for an ox to trim a chicken will only ruin the edge for when the real beast arrives?”

“Lacking speed. That is precisely why you are suffering strikes that should never have touched you.”

Dang Cheonhwa followed closely behind So Surin, his voice a constant, nagging shadow.

She held a position among the elite five of the Divine Demon Division, trailing only Sima Geon and Cheol Woo, but through the discerning eyes of Dang Cheonhwa, her performance was riddled with flaws.

Due to the heinous experiments of Ten Thousand Poison Valley, a staggering volume of venom had been woven into her very being. During her recovery, So Surin had successfully refined that internal poison, merging it with the potent vitality she had harvested from the blood of Black Wolf. Her struggle lay in the refined application of that overwhelming power.

While mending So Surin’s physical form, Dang Cheonhwa had covertly instilled the foundations of the Tang Clan’s poison arts into her, timing the lessons to her circulation of the Ten Thousand Poison Valley’s poison technique. Whenever the opportunity arose thereafter, he had gifted her several combat forms designed to weaponize those toxic foundations.

Sharing the secret martial legacy of the Tang Clan with an outsider was a crime punishable by death under their laws, but the toxic maverick Dang Cheonhwa was hardly a man to be tethered by such traditions.

Furthermore, the specific styles he shared with So Surin were original creations he had developed during his seclusion on Hainan Island. While their essence was rooted in the Tang Clan, they were not purely traditional techniques.

“I am begging you, please be quiet!”

So Surin snapped, her patience fraying.

The momentary lapse in concentration caused her next strike to drift.

A palm thrust aimed squarely at an opponent’s chest only managed to scrape his forearm. Yet, So Surin did not pause to finish him; instead, she spun away to engage a different attacker.

The logic behind her movement manifested moments later.

The warrior, feeling a surge of relief that the palm had only clipped his arm and bracing for a lethal follow-up, suddenly felt his vision tremor.

With a look of pure bewilderment, he gripped his arm and ripped back his sleeve.

The flesh where the palm had made contact was already a bruised shade of midnight, the rot spreading with terrifying velocity.

His features began to warp under the weight of agonizing pain and sheer panic.

As the darkness swallowed his face, blood erupted from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. He took a few unsteady steps before crumpling into a lifeless heap.

Scarcely three or four heartbeats had passed since he was grazed by So Surin’s palm.

Scores of others were meeting their end in identical fashion.

Even more were falling simply by standing too close—choking on the toxic miasma radiating uncontrollably from her skin. And with every fallen foe, the sharp criticisms of Dang Cheonhwa echoed through the air.

“Elder, how much longer do you intend to treat this like a game? The situation is turning precarious.”

She cried out as a wave of warriors wielding the power of lightning began to swarm their position.

The Wind Demon Division was a far more dangerous entity than the followers of the Ghost Path Squad. They were the true vanguard of the Heavenly Demon Cult—formidable as individuals and lethal when acting in concert. While she might endure, Manchu and Gwayu were in over their heads. Even with the savage Black Wolf fighting alongside them, even his monstrous stamina had a breaking point.

“Good heavens, the woman never stops talking.”

He replied with a clear note of irritation, though Dang Cheonhwa recognized that the time for restraint had passed.

“Quite the fierce approach.”

The Wind Demon Division closing in from both flanks felt fundamentally different from the Ghost Path Squad—a threat so immediate it forced a cry of alarm from Noe Jeon.

Dang Cheonhwa withdrew the long pipe from between his lips, inhaled a deep breath of smoke, and blew a slow cloud toward the charging soldiers. He then looked toward So Surin.

“This concludes your practical lesson. Now, unleash your power without reservation. The rest of you—get back. Do not even dream of standing near us.”

Dang Cheonhwa signaled for Noe Jeon, Manchu, Gwayu, and their companions to retreat to a safe distance. However, seeing the enemy encroaching on all sides, they wavered, trapped by uncertainty.

“Tsk, such simpletons.”

Clicking his tongue, Dang Cheonhwa blurred into motion. He used Manchu’s shoulder as a stepping stone and soared into the sky.

His left hand held his pipe; his right gripped the robe he had discarded in a single fluid motion.

A freezing light ignited in Dang Cheonhwa’s eyes as he looked down upon the approaching Wind Demon Division.

“Ta-hat!”

A low, sharp cry broke from his lips as he began his slow descent. Simultaneously, the robe in his hand whipped into a furious, circular blur. In an instant, a localized storm of hidden needles erupted from the fabric, lancing toward the ground like streaks of fallen starlight.

“Incredible!”

The word escaped Noe Jeon’s lips as his jaw dropped in awe.

Observing the needles cascading down like a relentless deluge brought back memories of the meteor shower that had once illuminated the darkness of Black Dragon Valley.

“E-Evade! Get clear!”

Suk Jihwang screamed, his voice reaching a high-pitched franticness.

They tried to scatter, but there was no sanctuary to be found.

The countless needles blanketed the entire area, leaving no gap for escape.

“Aaaargh!”

“Gack!”

“No!”

Agonized cries broke out from every corner of the field.

The projectiles Dang Cheonhwa had launched were microscopic—hardly fatal on their own. They could kill if they pierced a vital pressure point, but otherwise, they caused little more than stinging pain.

However, once those needles were dipped in his specialized toxins, the lethality changed entirely.

And they were saturated.

Those who were hit began to stumble before they could even draw three breaths. Then, clutching at their hearts, they collapsed one after another in a grim domino effect.

More than thirty men lay dead in seconds.

“Heavenly Father!”

Suk Jihwang gazed at Dang Cheonhwa with pure dread, realizing he had lost over two-thirds of his battalion to a single movement.

Dang Cheonhwa, acting as if the matter were settled, leisurely returned his pipe to his mouth.

Noe Jeon, Manchu, and Gwayu hurried to take cover behind him, while Suk Jihwang and his surviving subordinates were too paralyzed with fear to advance.

“Perish!”

With a scream of desperation, a single streak of light flew from the hand of Seo Ye, aimed directly at the throat of Sima Geon.

Following the commands of Sword Demon Dragon, he had divided his units to bolster the Ghost Path Squad from the flanks before charging here with his seven elite guards from the Wind Demon Division to support Sword Demon Dragon. Joo Seunggeon squeezed his fist until his knuckles whitened.

Sword Demon Dragon, Son Gajong, and Yang Gyecho were launching a relentless, all-out assault. And then there was this lightning-fast ambush from Protector Seo Ye—a man presumed dead after falling from a horrific chest wound just moments prior. Even a warrior like Sima Geon would fail to respond in time, he believed.

Furthermore, among the trio of Protectors assisting Sword Demon Dragon, the youthful Seo Ye possessed a blade so swift and precise it was considered among the top three within the entire Heavenly Demon Cult.

A grin of certain victory touched Joo Seunggeon’s lips as he prepared his follow-up.

He didn’t truly expect Seo Ye’s strike to end Sima Geon instantly. That would be the best outcome, but against a titan of that level, one had to plan for more. At the very least, it would inflict a significant wound.

Joo Seunggeon visualized the moments to follow.

The sight of Sima Geon—hampered by Seo Ye’s rapid blade—having his life ended by a final stroke.

The mental image of destroying the Ma Do Best Sword and getting justice for his brother sent a surge of adrenaline through him.

At the same time, noticing the blade hurtling toward him like a falling star, Sima Geon’s eyebrow twitched.

The strike from Seo Ye had caught even him off-guard.

No person was supposed to survive a heart being pierced—certainly, he had never witnessed it. It had only occurred because he was unaware that Seo Ye possessed a heart in an abnormal position.

There was no time for calculation—his reflexes took command.

The Heavenly Demon Sword swept out to parry the strike from Sword Demon Dragon, while his left palm thrust toward Son Gajong and Yang Gyecho, manifesting the Dragon Scale Wall—a pinnacle defensive art of the Heaven Breaking Nine Wall Fist. Then, in that fraction of a second, he pivoted his torso.

Seo Ye’s sword whistled past Sima Geon’s neck, barely missing the skin.

Seeing his strike fail, Seo Ye ground his teeth and attempted to redirect the blade—but Sima Geon gave him no such opportunity.

The hand that had just held the Dragon Scale Wall clamped onto the sword mid-swing.

Clang!

The blade shattered with a high-pitched, metallic shriek.

Sima Geon whipped the broken shard back toward Seo Ye.

“Watch out!”

The shout from Sword Demon Dragon was too late—Seo Ye had nothing left to give.

His heart might have been misplaced, but his original wound was still fatal. Having drained his final drop of energy for that ambush, his body refused to move.

The shard flew from Sima Geon’s hand and buried itself deep into Seo Ye’s brow.

Seo Ye died without uttering a single sound.

‘Curse it all!’

The pathetic demise of Seo Ye and the complete failure of the plan turned Joo Seunggeon’s expression into one of pure fury. Yet, he was already committed to the charge.

A brilliant azure glow radiated from Joo Seunggeon’s blade as it carved through the air toward Sima Geon.

A similar surge of power erupted from the weapons of his followers.

The Heavenly Demon Sword—having just forced Sword Demon Dragon back—now whirled toward Joo Seunggeon and his warriors.

Thunderbolt Blood Sword: Light Flash.

Under a clear sky dominated by a scorching sun, the sound of thunder tore through the air.

That was the sensation Joo Seunggeon and his men experienced.

As if a god of storms had descended to strike them down.

They felt a deep sense of hopelessness before a speed that no human effort could match.

Their consciousness vanished in a heartbeat.

Seeing eight heads disconnected from their bodies and sent flying, Sword Demon Dragon bit his lip until the skin broke and blood flowed.

Son Gajong and Yang Gyecho, struggling to draw air into their lungs, shared his look of grim realization.

With a unified roar, Son Gajong and Yang Gyecho lunged forward once more.

Their joint attack was effortlessly brushed aside by the Heavenly Demon Sword.

“Ugh!”

“Gah!”

The two let out simultaneous grunts of pain.

As if moving in a choreographed dance, both were knocked back five full paces.

As Sima Geon leveled the Heavenly Demon Sword toward them, Sword Demon Dragon—his jaw set—unleashed his ultimate technique.

The final form of the Lonely Soul Twelve Flows: World Chaos Divide.

A torrent of sword intent exploded from his weapon, fracturing into twelve distinct rays of light that hemmed in Sima Geon from every angle, cutting off any path of retreat.

In perfect coordination, Yang Gyecho unleashed his own secret art.

Son Gajong followed suit with his most devastating technique: Yellow Dragon Ascends Heaven.

Five golden dragons formed from the energy in Son Gajong’s palms, glowing with a blinding radiance. They coiled toward the sky before diving downward, roaring as they closed in on Sima Geon.

Sima Geon let out a soft breath and moved the Heavenly Demon Sword.

The profound energy of the Three Venerables One Heart Skill surged from his core, traveled through his limbs, and flooded into the Heavenly Demon Sword—then discharged into the environment.

The shockwave from the Heavenly Demon Sword collided directly with the combined power of the three masters.

Boom boom boom ka-boom!

The twelve rays of light from Sword Demon Dragon’s blade were snuffed out instantly.

The golden dragons targeting Sima Geon’s vitals were crushed like glass.

Everything within a sixty-foot radius was reduced to splinters and dust.

The remains of Seo Ye and the scattered corpses of Joo Seunggeon and his unit were torn to shreds by the pressure.

Swoosh!

The Heavenly Demon Sword sliced through the settling dust, pointing straight for the heart of Son Gajong.

There was no window to retreat—and no desire to. No, he refused to flee. There was nothing left to protect behind him. He had to take Sima Geon down at any cost.

A final, cold resolve settled over Son Gajong as he threw himself directly onto Sima Geon’s blade.

Splat!

The moment the Heavenly Demon Sword pierced through his chest, his body swelled to a grotesque size—then erupted in a massive explosion.

Watching Son Gajong sacrifice himself in a desperate attempt at mutual destruction, Yang Gyecho did not hesitate.

With his internal reserves completely spent, he immediately tapped into his innate true qi.

He was well aware that burning his life force like this meant certain death—or a hollow existence if he survived—but it didn’t matter. He could not allow the opportunity his comrade had died for to slip away.

But the moment he lunged at Sima Geon, a horrific sound of tearing flesh and a spike of agony ripped through his spine.

Yang Gyecho faltered, his head sagging.

There was the edge of the Heavenly Demon Sword, having emerged from his shattered dantian.

‘But when did…’

As he looked up, the cold, unfeeling eyes of Sima Geon were there to meet his.

Despite the point-blank detonation from Son Gajong, Sima Geon stood there seemingly unharmed, save for his ruined attire.

“You absolute demon.”

Son Gajong whispered with his fading breath, watching Sima Geon’s hand reach out before his world went dark.

Having finished Son Gajong, Sima Geon turned to resolve the final conflict.

Not far away, Sword Demon Dragon—who had taken the worst of the preceding explosion—was fighting just to breathe.

Sword Demon Dragon looked down at his right shoulder.

Thick, dark blood was pouring from a jagged wound that looked as though it had been bitten by a great beast. Blood was also leaking from his flank and his leg.

Having lost all feeling in those areas, he suspected his left side was in a similar state of ruin.

“I recognized your talent… well enough… but I truly never imagined… the gap was this vast.”

Sword Demon Dragon let out a dry, bitter laugh at the figure of Sima Geon. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he forced out a few more words.

“You… are the victor…”

Watching Sword Demon Dragon’s head fall forward in finality, Sima Geon turned and walked away without looking back.