Chapter 203

Chapter 203
## Chapter 203: Battle at Phoenix Mountain (2)

The environment had transformed into a landscape of total carnage, a hellish theater of war, yet a vacuum of stillness remained around Neung Sohwa and Gu Yangsun as they held each other’s gaze.

While their blades had not yet made physical contact, a spiritual war was already in full swing. The sheer pressure of their internal energies sliced through the atmosphere like phantom razors, tearing at the very air that separated them.

Gu Yangsun began a measured movement with his blade.

A foul, dark vapor, resembling a tattered black shroud, began to leak from the point of his sword.

Releasing a sharp cry, Neung Sohwa lunged forward, her weapon carving a graceful path through the air to intercept the dark power Gu Yangsun had summoned.

Falling Blossoms in Flight, the opening technique of the Heavenly Stream Sword Canon.

Vibrant petals seemed to manifest in the firmament, drifting down with deceptive softness to coat the advancing obsidian fog.

Gu Yangsun met this immediately with the crowning move of the Black Mist Vast Heaven Sword: Black Flame Full Bloom.

The shadowy vapor ignited into a demonic blaze, seeking to incinerate the petals and Neung Sohwa in a single infernal gulp.

Neung Sohwa shifted her stance with rhythmic precision, her blade dancing to meet the heat.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A series of thunderous detonations rocked the clearing in rapid-fire succession.

In the span of mere heartbeats, the pair had traded more than twenty lethal exchanges.

Kaboom!

A clash of unprecedented violence erupted, forcing both warriors to spring backward as if repelled by a single magnetic force.

In that momentary pause, having exhausted their immediate reserves, they stood with chests heaving and lungs burning, their garments shredded into ribbons by the stray currents of their duel.

“Ah!”

Watching from a safe distance, a gasp of pure wonder left Jinrim’s mouth.

The majority of the elite warriors from the Sword Pavilion were already embroiled in the wider melee, but Jinrim, whose martial prowess was not on their level, had been strictly cautioned by Hwang Ye to remain in the rear.

Sidelined from the direct conflict, she could offer nothing but desperate prayers for the survival of her comrades. Her eyes remained glued to Neung Sohwa, who was locked in the most treacherous struggle on the mountain.

To her frustration, however, the nuances of the fight were a blur.

She was unable to decipher the shifts in momentum or the complexity of their strikes.

To her untrained eyes, they were merely two streaks of impossible speed, punctuated by the roar of impact that sounded like a storm of lightning striking the earth.

‘Please, let her win!’

Jinrim pressed her palms together, her heart heavy with a silent plea for Neung Sohwa’s triumph.

‘Truly gifted. The title of Sword Empress is no exaggeration. Even my most subtle feints fail to find a mark.’

As he stabilized his breathing, Gu Yangsun came to the realization that Neung Sohwa’s prowess exceeded his darkest estimates. Despite her relative youth and the fact that her mastery of the Sword Empress lineage was not yet absolute, she displayed a veteran’s composure. Every time he tried to bait her with a calculated lapse in defense, she responded by turning his own momentum into a snare.

Drawing a heavy breath, Gu Yangsun channeled his remaining essence.

The dark vapor that had previously only graced his sword now erupted from his entire frame.

In a heartbeat, he was swallowed by the gloom.

Feeling the enemy’s killing intent sharpen to a razor’s edge, Neung Sohwa pushed her perceptions to their absolute peak, focusing on the silhouette of Gu Yangsun within the swirling black haze.

The mist surged forward, elongating into the jagged shape of a colossal blade.

Ink Thunder Thousand Rends, the ultimate manifestation of the Black Mist Vast Heaven Sword.

As the shadowy sword coalesced, thousands of splintered needles of dark energy hissed toward the Sword Empress like a swarm of hornets.

Neung Sohwa countered this barrage with the definitive maneuver of the Heavenly Stream Sword Technique: Winds and Clouds at Play.

Shhhk!

The terrifying energy appeared to dissolve into nothingness, yet it pierced through her defense in a single pulse of power.

Recognizing that Gu Yangsun’s drive had not faltered for a second, she immediately transitioned into her next stance.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The obsidian strikes hammered against her with world-shaking power, but the defensive perimeter she had woven remained impenetrable.

The moment the dark smoke began to lose its cohesion and scatter, unable to break her guard, a brilliant streak of light split the darkness.

Thud!

A heavy, sickening thud followed as Gu Yangsun’s body was thrown off balance.

Seizing the vulnerability with a flawless counter, Neung Sohwa pressed her advantage with icy resolve.

Gu Yangsun, buckling under the weight of her offensive, retreated—and sensing the kill, Neung Sohwa unleashed the most devastating art of the Heavenly Stream Sword Technique: Meteor Quenching Flame.

With his back against the metaphorical wall, Gu Yangsun desperately threw himself into his final, unperfected technique.

The resulting vortex of ink-like energy collided head-on with a rain of sword strikes that fell like stars from the heavens.

Like the sudden release of a pressurized volcano, a deafening explosion ripped through the air, shaking the ground for thirty feet and uprooting the very soil.

Earth and stone were launched into the sky, momentarily eclipsing the sun.

The surrounding combatants paused, recoiling in terror from the shockwave.

As the debris finally drifted back to the ground, the results were undeniable.

Gu Yangsun lay broken in a spreading crimson pool, both his arms severed and a hollow cavity torn through his chest.

The lifeblood poured from his torso, painting the mountain soil dark red.

No master of medicine or miracle worker could have mended such ruin.

The Sword Empress, standing several paces away, was in far better condition.

Though her hair was a mess and blood seeped from minor cuts through her torn robes, she had avoided any critical damage.

“This old fool… miscalculated… everything.”

Gu Yangsun’s voice was a wet rattle as he looked up at the cold, steady gaze of Neung Sohwa.

“I gave my word… to the Leader… that I would… live to… return…”

The light began to dim in his pupils.

“Forgive… me, Cult… Leader. I could not… earn my… redemption…”

His chin dropped to his chest before he could finish his final plea.

Neung Sohwa observed the corpse for a beat, then turned away with clinical detachment.

Even though their commander had perished, his brainwashed followers showed no signs of breaking. Since the day they had been conscripted into the Blood Cult, they had been forged into tools that knew neither sorrow nor agony.

“A decisive win, Pavilion Master.”

Seo Yoryeong walked toward her, exhausted but satisfied, having just dispatched enemies who continued to bite even as their heads were parted from their shoulders.

“It is.”

“Truly a sight to behold.”

Seo Yoryeong allowed herself a moment of genuine pride.

“He was a dangerous opponent. You had fortune on your side.”

“It wasn’t just fortune—your prowess simply outmatched him.”

At the continued compliments, a ghost of a smile touched Neung Sohwa’s face before it vanished.

“I appreciate that. But our current state is dire.”

Her expression turned grim once more.

Neung Sohwa looked at the wounded and dead of the Sword Pavilion scattered across the field. While the enemy dead far outnumbered them, she only had eyes for the losses of her own sect.

“These monsters are pitiless. No instinct for self-preservation, no reaction to pain. They keep attacking even when dismembered. The sheer wrongness of it caused our people to hesitate…”

Seo Yoryeong exhaled sharply, looking over the carnage.

If the disciples hadn’t been paralyzed by the unnatural behavior of their foes early on, the death toll would have been significantly lower. Furthermore, the suicidal explosions at the end had taken a heavy toll.

“It cannot be helped now. Our focus must be on saving those who remain.”

As a recovered Neung Sohwa prepared to rejoin the remaining skirmishes, her sharp instincts detected a new set of powerful presences.

She turned to see figures she hadn’t expected to encounter.

Jinrim, who had been crying tears of relief at the victory, looked on in confusion as both Neung Sohwa and Seo Yoryeong shifted their focus toward her.

She lifted a hand timidly, trying to show she was alright and to celebrate the win.

“What are you doing standing here by yourself?”

Startled by the voice, Jinrim spun around and slipped, landing hard on the ground. Her face went white, her heart pounding like a drum.

Rough, powerful hands grabbed her as if she were a piece of laundry to be hung.

“Doesn’t seem to be a scratch on her.”

The man holding her gave her a thorough look-over.

Recognizing Cheol Woo as the one hoisting her up, Jinrim’s fear turned into a torrent of abuse.

“You absolute moron!”

Dangling in the air, she began to kick at him furiously.

“That’s not going to hurt me. You’re only going to bruise your shins.”

So Surin slapped Cheol Woo’s hand away and pulled Jinrim into a firm embrace.

“Sister!”

Wrapped in So Surin’s arms, Jinrim began to sob—a mix of relief, frustration, and wounded pride.

“Enough games—get moving.”

At Sima Geon’s command, Cheol Woo flashed a cocky grin at the fuming Jinrim before diving back into the fight. Noejeon, Goyu, and Manchu were right behind him.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you shortly.”

After comforting Jinrim, So Surin headed toward the front lines. Passing Neung Sohwa, she offered a respectful nod.

“It has been a while, Lady Neung.”

The moment their paths crossed, Sima Geon had already visually assessed Neung Sohwa’s condition, ensuring she wasn’t hiding a grave injury, and offered a warm greeting.

“Not so long as all that.”

Neung Sohwa replied with a rare bit of levity before her tone turned serious.

“I nearly attacked you—I thought your auras belonged to more enemies. I thought you were returning to your family home. What brings you here?”

“That was the plan, until some things required our attention.”

Sima Geon gave a concise summary of their raid on the Hao Clan’s headquarters in Nankin.

“I see. So it wasn’t the Beggars’ Gang, but Young Master Sima who dismantled the Hao Clan’s core and revealed their ties to the Blood Cult.”

“It was a collaborative effort.”

“Still, I had no inkling that you were the ones behind it.”

“We asked the Beggars’ Gang to keep our involvement quiet. It’s simpler to operate without the extra attention.”

“I understand.”

Neung Sohwa looked deeply into Sima Geon’s eyes.

“So, you hurried to this mountain because you learned the Blood Cult was moving against me and the Pavilion?”

Sima Geon didn’t blink.

“Naturally.”

“You have my thanks.”

Neung Sohwa lowered her head, a shy smile appearing on her face.

“Excuse me…”

Jegal Su spoke up tentatively, breaking the thick tension between the two.

“Oh, apologies. This is…”

“A pleasure to see you again, Young Master Jegal.”

Before Sima Geon could introduce him, Neung Sohwa addressed Jegal Su directly.

“Yes. It is indeed.”

Jegal Su gave a courteous bow.

As Sima Geon looked slightly caught off guard, the Sword Empress let out a soft laugh, shielding her mouth.

“We met briefly when the previous Sword Empress paid a visit to the Jegal Clan.”

Sima Geon nodded as Jegal Su provided the context.

“I didn’t anticipate finding the Jegal Clan’s warriors in this place.”

Neung Sohwa looked at Jegal Su and the members of the Way Dragon Squad, who were standing by awkwardly, having missed the chance to join the initial charge.

“Circumstances brought us here. But what are those creatures? Their behavior is utterly inhuman. And that self-destructing at the end… truly repulsive.”

Jegal Su looked disgusted at the memory of the Blood Cultists who fought like rabid dogs and blew themselves up.

“We can’t say for sure—this is our first encounter with them. We only know they have been conditioned.”

“I’ve heard tales of the Sword Pavilion’s talent my whole life, but witnessing it… it surpasses the legends. Truly impressive.”

Jegal Su was genuinely struck by how the swordmasters managed to hold their own against such unnatural foes.

He noted that Cheol Woo and So Surin’s intervention had been pivotal. Without their aggressive push into the center of the enemy formation, the Pavilion would have suffered far more casualties, and the struggle would have dragged on.

“Lady Su-ya.”

Jegal Geom hurried to Jegal Su’s side, giving a quick bow to Neung Sohwa before presenting a small parchment. Jegal Su’s expression grew taught as he scanned the message.

“The group that led the Young Tiger Clan away is closing in fast. They will be here within half a gak—considering the time it took for the scout to reach us, they could arrive any second. Roughly one hundred and twenty men. They’ll be in a state of shock. Their plan was to bait and trap, but they didn’t expect the main force to be wiped out so quickly.”

“One hundred and twenty?”

Neung Sohwa was stunned by the figure, which was much larger than what the Young Tiger Clan had reported. She assumed the Clan had been decimated after walking into such a large trap.

“It seems the Young Tiger Clan couldn’t hold their position.”

“No, that’s not quite right.”

Jegal Su gave a dismissive, almost amused wave of his hand.

“They’re all working together anyway.”

“What?”

“In league. The Young Tiger Clan and the Blood Cult—they are definitely in on it together.”

“What are you saying…?”

Neung Sohwa looked back and forth between Sima Geon and Jegal Su, her mind reeling.

But the window for conversation had slammed shut.

In the distance, a group of enemies possessing an aura far more overwhelming than the previous wave was rapidly approaching.