Chapter 344

Chapter 344
Chapter 344. Life and Death (5)

—

Shouts of agony and choking gasps filled the air behind them, accompanied by frantic cries for fallen comrades like Cho-hyeong. It was obvious that the casualties weren’t limited to the academy trainees. However, the absolute lack of any death rattles or cries from the fiends weighed heavily on everyone’s morale.

‘The Red Magic Squad (Hong-ma-dae)!’

Curse it all. Dealing with the Wolf Squad was already pushing them to the brink, and now the formidable Red Magic Squad had entered the fray. He didn’t even have a single moment to indulge in hopelessness. There was no guarantee that this squad represented the final wave of foes. Even if he were to directly inquire if more were coming, would these monsters provide a straightforward reply?

‘Not a chance.’

Tightening his grip on the lowered Red Light Sword, he pressed onward. He had evolved beyond the mere human shield he used to be, who spent all his energy dodging and deflecting blows.

*Clang, clang, clang, clang!*

Sidestepping the flurry of incoming blades and sabers, he accurately drove his weapon into the lethal vulnerabilities of his enemies.

*Slash, slash, slash.*

He forged ahead, stepping over adversaries who collapsed like lifeless scarecrows with severed supports. Charging forward carried an entirely different sensation than a desperate retreat. In his previous life, he would shake uncontrollably, his rage suppressed by fear even when surrounded by numerous allies. Now, despite the overwhelming horde of foes radiating murderous intent and corrupting energy, his fury remained unyielding against despair. Instead, a profound wrath surged straight into his weapon hand.

*Boom, boom, boom!*

He slashed repeatedly, cutting a path forward. Driven by the conviction that each stride could mean the survival of another ally, he advanced relentlessly.

*Slice, slice.*

Fresh lacerations mapped across his flesh, and his warrior garments had been shredded into tattered ribbons. In the midst of such brutal carnage, there was no room for elegant forms or textbook parries like in a friendly match. He had abandoned any pretense of dodging every strike, focusing solely on shielding his lethal areas and deflecting blows that meant certain demise. Even so, each impact from that foul, corrupting energy sent a sickening spasm through his insides, as though his viscera were being wrung out.

“Cough!”

A violent spasm shook his chest, causing him to retch up a mouthful of crimson fluid.

“Commander Jin! Can you hold on!”

Shouting from a short distance away, Il-gak expressed intense alarm. The monk’s smooth head was already streaked with dark blood, yet he was wasting breath worrying about someone else. Thankfully, the internal damage wasn’t completely catastrophic.

‘Surviving a direct hit from the Red Sun Palm (Jeok-yang-jang) without taking a mortal injury…’

This realization served as absolute proof of how much he had transcended his former self. It was only right to repay the damage in full.

*Wooooo…*

Allowing his sword-light to manifest to a length of one jang, he unleashed the devastating forms of the Twin Heavens Sword Technique (Ssang-cheon-geom-gyeol).

*Boom, boom! Boom, boom! Boom, boom, boom!*

An intricate weave of tangible steel and illusory blades tore through the immediate area, severing the extremities of the fiends and throwing them into the air. Their tight formations actually worked to his advantage, eliminating the need for precise targeting. Yet, watching the endless waves immediately plug the gaps in their ranks induced a profound, exhausting sense of futility.

“Very well, you intend to persist until our spirits shatter.”

They understood perfectly that physical power crumbles once resolve is broken, and they weaponized that psychological tactic expertly.

“Let us discover whose resolve cracks first.”

*Rumble.*

Elements of crackling electricity and thunder accumulated within his palm. Sensing an impending threat, the fighters of the Red Magic Squad immediately retreated. Taking two swift bounds forward, he discharged the full might of the Great Heaven Divine Palm (Gwang-cheon-sin-jang) directly into their ranks.

*Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!*

A section of the woodland erupted into splinters, carving out a massive, empty crater. The sheer devastation left behind shocked even him, the one who unleashed it. Normally, such a terrifying display would shatter the morale of even the bravest soldiers, making them hesitate to follow commands…

“……Vile monsters.”

Yet, acting as though their capacity for fear had been completely stripped away, they swarmed forward to occupy the vacant space without a second thought. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt or terror in their movements. If anything, their relentless push to close the breach and strike back harder began to demoralize the academy students. It was precisely this terrifying, unyielding persistence that had demolished the Murim Alliance in his previous timeline. Remembering that grim history, he ground his teeth in fury.

“…You really are nothing but unfeeling beasts. Completely devoid of human sentiment.”

He swiftly returned the Red Light Sword to its scabbard, shifting his weight into a specialized quick-draw posture.

**White Moon Heaven-Conquering Three Styles (Baek-wol-je-cheon-sam-sik)**
**1st Style: Extreme Speed (Geuk-kwae)**

Even without manifesting explicit sword-qi or sword-light, the technique drained his internal energy at a rate that rivaled the Great Heaven Divine Palm. For a split second, the silhouettes of the oncoming fiends seemed to blur and warp. The fabric of space itself appeared to twist, followed a moment later by the delayed crack of a sonic boom.

*Ping.*

Reminiscent of a bursting dam unleashing its contained torrent—

*Shhhhhhht!*

The charging adversaries uniformly sprayed blood from their mouths and collapsed heavily onto the earth.

“Huff, huff, huff.”

His lungs burned as he struggled to catch his breath. Despite all the grueling cultivation he had endured, was this the absolute limit of his current capability? He couldn’t help but wonder if Master Baek-hae-gwang belonged to the human race at all.

*Tap, tap, tap, tap.*

Yet, showing no signs of fatigue, the remaining monsters resumed their charge without a moment’s pause.

‘Utter lunatics.’

Then again, his own sanity was highly questionable at this point. It was time to execute the advanced concepts he had absorbed from Master Baek-hae-gwang during those grueling training sessions where he kept losing consciousness.

**White Moon Heaven-Conquering Three Styles**
**2nd Style: Extreme Strength (Geuk-gang)**

This was the dedicated protective form within the martial art. His blade moved with a velocity that easily matched Extreme Speed, leaving behind dense, lingering traceries of sword-qi that formed an absolute shield covering every conceivable angle.

*Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang.*

The assailants enveloping him on all sides struck frantically with their weapons to breach the defensive perimeter, but the protective cage held firm.

‘Master Baek is absolutely out of his mind.’

Gritting his teeth, he abruptly reversed the rotational flow of the martial technique. The sheer, violent friction of the opposing energies caused his vulnerable meridians to swell painfully, threatening to rupture. An immense wave of sword-qi, moving in direct opposition to his previous output, erupted at a blinding pace and slammed into the active barrier, triggering a cataclysmic reaction.

It was a defensive maneuver predicated on the volatile detonation caused by clashing waves of sword-qi. Calling this a mere defensive stance felt like an understatement.

*Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom.*

The unleashed energies of Extreme Strength pulverized everything in the vicinity, leaving only the martial artist untouched. Hardened steel weapons and fragile physical forms alike were ground to dust. Furthermore, as the stray energy from the attackers got pulled into the chain reaction—

*Rumble, rumble, rumble.*

The tempest of volatile sword-qi expanded outward exponentially. A deadly vortex of shattered blades and detonating energy ripped through the ranks, reaching even the reserve combatants at the back. The frontliners who had been sprinting forward with lethal intent were instantly reduced to shredded flesh.

“Gack…… gack……”

His dantian throbbed violently with a severe ache, resembling the agonizing strain of overextending unconditioned muscles. His Eight Extraordinary Vessels and various acupoints throbbed with a tearing sensation, completely overwhelmed by the energy throughput.

“Blegh.”

He wondered what kind of mad genius possessed Master Baek-hae-gwang to invent such a self-destructive sword style. He had to cough up another glob of blood before the chaotic energy inside his torso finally began to stabilize. Fighting to remain conscious, he forced his gaze upward to survey the battlefield.

“Curse it, does the Demonic Cult have absolutely no concept of restraint?”

Despite scores of their comrades being obliterated into red mist all around them, the remaining zealots pressed on with blank, unbothered expressions. How many more lives would he have to extinguish before they could break free? Just how many more?

*Tremble, tremble.*

He raised the Red Light Sword against the approaching wave, but his fingers lacked the necessary power to hold it firmly.

‘If I can just keep my footing…’

It felt profoundly ridiculous to face demise right after pulling off such an extraordinary martial feat. If he fell here, the sheer injustice of it would probably puzzle the psychopomps of the underworld. Forcing his muscles to obey, his frame grudgingly responded, though his internal energy paths remained erratic and jammed.

‘Circulate! Damn it, move…!!’

By forcefully jolting his stabilizing dantian once more, he managed to jump-start the flow of internal power. But right as he prepared to lung forward—

“Aaargh suicide!”

A sharp cry rang out from his immediate flank. Jerking his head around in surprise, he gasped.

“Ugh……”

Geum-tae-jong, a warrior from the 2nd Squad, had thrown himself in front of a blade meant for him. Instantly reacting, he unleashed the So-cheon Sword Technique to sever the attacker’s throat before catching Geum-tae-jong as his body went limp.

“Cough……”

Crimson fluid poured unstoppably from the fallen fighter’s lips, signaling a mortal injury.

“What possessed you to do that!”

“This is exactly why… the unit leader has no business… fighting on the vanguard…”

“Don’t give up on me yet, just stay with me a little longer…!”

The gash across his torso was deep enough to reveal pale bone underneath. Before any aid could be administered, Geum-tae-jong glanced down at his ruined chest, coughed up more crimson, and managed a weak smile.

“…Allow me to take a brief nap. I need to save my energy… if we’re going to share a drink later.”

With a final nudge, Geum-tae-jong slipped from his grasp and went still upon the dirt. What drove him to do it? Why did he sacrifice his life for his sake? If he had simply focused on his own safety, he would still be breathing. …There had never been any directive requiring anyone to shield him.

He had no leisure to process the grief or confusion as the enemy line closed in again.

*Clang, clang, clang, clang.*

His defense with the Red Light Sword grew sluggish and weak, painfully reminiscent of the helpless Jin-so-un from his previous life. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, matched by the turbulent storm inside his energy channels. No matter how hard he tried to rally his physical power, his body refused to respond.

‘Is this where it ends? Cut down by these monsters?’

If death was coming, he would meet it on his feet.

*Crunch.*

He clamped his teeth down hard on his tongue. The sharp, metallic taste of blood jolted his fading senses, sending a shockwave of awareness through his numbed nervous system. Vitality flooded back into his extremities, and the fog clouding his mind instantly dissipated.

“……The Commander is ……!”

“Protect…… the Commander!”

“……Follow the Commander…… and run!”

Amidst the chaotic din of combat, scattered directives and responses echoed back and forth among the survivors. But he blocked it out. He actively chose to ignore the noise. The philosophical questions of why he needed to advance, why he sought to protect these people, or what the purpose of his survival was—he abandoned them all.

Contemplation was a deadly distraction; a single instant of doubt meant another academy trainee would perish. These young martial artists were the treasured future of their respective sects. They were cherished sons, brothers, and peers. That realization alone drove his feet forward. He pressed on without a second’s pause, understanding that searching for meaning was an unaffordable indulgence.

“Ji—Jin Dan-ju!”

Keeping pace beside him with frantic strides, Il-gak’s expression had completely lost its color. The monk, who hadn’t faltered once through all their trials, looked genuinely shaken. Clearing the fluid that blurred his sight, he peered ahead and beheld a thick wall of burning torches. Despite the mounting body count he had personally claimed, how could there still be such an immense force waiting? What secrets did this particular woodland harbor to justify such an extreme deployment? Or had the enemy orchestrated this entire ambush from the outset to completely liquidate the academy’s youth?

“Right… it was bound to come to this point sooner or later.”

Given the massive scale of their trap, the masterminds were bound to show their faces now. The trainees had inflicted severe casualties on their front lines; the enemy wouldn’t want to prolong an expensive war of attrition indefinitely either.

“Jin…… Si-ju……. Wh—what is the plan?”

The immediate landscape was a desolate waste of shattered timber and scorched earth. Anticipating a conclusive showdown at this exact location, the cultists had systematically dismantled every natural obstacle and formation in the vicinity. They had carefully engineered a clearing that perfectly favored their numbers.

“There is only one option. We fight our way out.”

“Fight…… our way out?”

“Furthermore, if this is truly the grand finale, isn’t it customary for the commander of your forces to step up and exchange words!”

His voice boomed across the clearing, yet the line of torches remained unbroken by any approaching figure.

“Is there no arrogant leader willing to boast that ‘This is where the academy meets its end, and I shall be your executioner’? Are you all incapable of speech?”

The only reply to his taunts was the chilling, metallic ring of unsheathed steel.

*Shring, shring, shring.*

In perfect, theatrical unison, the collective sound of blades leaving scabbards rippled through the darkness from every direction. The firelight glinted ominously off countless swords and sabers, offering a terrifying glimpse of the massive numbers encircling them. It was the ultimate psychological blow designed to break a group that had barely survived an exhausting gauntlet.

“Your methods haven’t changed a bit from how they used to be.”

This was the hallmark doctrine of the Demonic Cult. They took immense pleasure in systematically crushing their enemy’s morale, burying them beneath a hopeless mountain of dread.

*Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.*

Moving in eerie synchronization, the cultists began their steady, heavy-footed advance.

“Co—Commander!”

“Jin…… Si-ju. They are closing in!”

“Do we… do we attack? Should we charge?!”

For the first time, even the resilient academy trainees began to waver, their resolve shaking exactly like the doomed cohorts of the old Murim Alliance had in his previous life.

“There is just one flaw in your plan.”

He paused, a grim smile playing on his lips.

“What makes you think I would succumb to the exact same strategy twice?”

He was no longer that helpless vanguard tank from before. Reaching into his garments, he pulled out a signaling device—having foresightedly gathered every spare beacon available before the mission. He launched the initial flare directly into the dead center of the opposing horde.

*Ping— Pop.*

A sharp flash illuminated the clearing, casting a stark glow over the dense ranks of motionless cultists. Though a heavy boot quickly trampled the sputtering beacon into the dirt, extinguishing the illumination, the trap was already sprung. As the enemy resumed their advance—

*Swish.*

A high-pitched whistle sliced through the air directly above him. A split second later, a thunderous detonation rocked the exact coordinate where his flare had landed.

*Kachow.*

Without losing a beat, he dispatched a second beacon into the fray.

*Ping— Pop.*

The moment the new spark illuminated the shadows—

*Swish.*

Following the exact same sequence, another devastating blast tore through the target zone.

*Kachow.*

The surrounding trainees watched in utter bewilderment.

“What is happening… I thought that was just a regular beacon?”

*Ping— Pop.*

As the third flare painted the night sky—

*Swish— Kaboom.*

A solitary projectile streaked downward, burying itself deep within the enemy ranks. The ensuing blast sent jagged shrapnel through the tightly packed cultists, forcing them to vomit blood as they dropped in heaps. This was the devastating Thunderbolt Arrow (Byeok-ryeok-si), a technique Mo-yong-jae-hwa had successfully refined over their winter training period. While it hadn’t yet achieved the legendary status of the Soul-Piercing Bow from his former timeline, its current destructive output thoroughly earned its fearsome title.

“H—How is this possible, Commander Jin…?”

“Have you already forgotten how Jae-hwa managed to hold off the forces of the Blood Cult single-handedly back in Sichuan?”

“…But why did we wait until this moment to deploy him?”

“Those wretched natural maze formations made it impossible for Jae-hwa to get a clear shot. We can only utilize his archery now because our enemies were foolish enough to level the trees and clear out the entire woodland.”

“……”

“Hah, the guy must have been complaining non-stop this whole time, itching for a chance to join the fray.”

It had been a highly precarious wager. Had the enemy maintained their grinding tactics within the dense foliage, they never would have found an opening to leverage Jae-hwa’s true capabilities inside the Muk-rim. Yet, true to form, the cultists couldn’t break away from their predictable tactical doctrines.

*Ping— Pop.*
*Kachow.*

With each subsequent flare that ignited the shadows, the pile of mangled enemy bodies grew higher. An illuminated beacon amidst pitch blackness provides the perfect reference point for a master marksman. Mo-yong-jae-hwa kept raining down his devastating projectiles, tracking even the targets desperately scrambling away from the blast zones.

*Kachow.*

Once a trio of these explosive rounds hit their mark, the relentless advance of the cultists stalled for the very first time. He kept launching the guiding flares without a moment’s pause.

*Ping— Pop.*
*Kachow.*

Jae-hwa maintained a merciless barrage, pouring his accumulated frustration into every shot. The night sky became a vivid canvas of brilliant flares and descending Thunderbolt Arrows. Amidst the continuous, deafening blasts, genuine cries of pain finally began to break through the enemy’s stoic front. It was a hard-won turning point in their desperate struggle, yet the trainees offered no celebratory shouts. Instead, they observed the carnage in solemn stillness, reminded of their own comrades who had perished just as abruptly as the foes before them.

Three flares were sent aloft at the exact same moment. High above in the canopy, Mo-yong-jae-hwa channeled the absolute limits of his internal energy into his remaining ammunition.

*Kachow!*
*Kachow!*
*Kachow!*

As the arrows rained down like a localized meteor shower, the cultists’ formation shattered, sending them scattering in panic rather than pressing the assault. Simultaneously, he could tell that the concussive force behind Mo-yong-jae-hwa’s barrages was beginning to wane.

“Get ready.”

The archer had pushed his body past its threshold, achieving this massive feat with an internal cultivation base only slightly exceeding a single gap-ja. The support from the long-range barrage had run its course. The instant the enemy regrouped and saw past the shock of the explosive arrows, the assault would resume.

“Charge!!!”

They surged forward as one, capitalizing on the peak of the enemy’s disarray to ensure the fleeting window of opportunity did not close.

*Whish— Thud.*

A distant thud signaled a soft landing near the rear of their formation; Mo-yong-jae-hwa had successfully rendezvoused back with the main group. Drawing deep from the reserves of his dantian, he summoned his remaining internal force and unleashed it directly upon the scattered cultists.

*Boom, boom, boom, boom.*

Clashing currents of sword-qi filled the air, generating a chaotic gale of raw energy. His circulation, which had briefly slowed, surged with renewed heat, leaving him panting heavily. Through a relentless cycle of slashing, thrusting, and overpowering their remaining opposition, the thick wall of adversaries began to thin out.

“Uwaaaaaah!”

By throwing their entire weight into the assault, they finally breached the perimeter. Raising his eyes to survey their new surroundings—

*Swoosh.*

The pursuing horde had vanished. The relentless zealots who had doggedly followed them despite every setback suddenly halted their chase, as if stopped by an unseen barrier.

“Ha, ha, ha……”

Amid their ragged gasps for air, low, unsettling growls vibrated through the atmosphere.

*Swish—*
*Grrrr—*

Deep within the dark, musky shadows, pairs of crimson eyes gleamed, watching them intently like sentinels monitoring trespassers. This was the dreaded Demonic Realm (Ma-gyeong).

“We made it!!!”

“Uwaaaaaaaaah!”

“Waaaaaaaah!!!”

Though they had reached the most perilous territory within the Muk-rim, the exhausted members of the Sa-hwal-dan erupted into a collective roar of triumph.