Chronicles of the Heavenly Demon

“Oh no! Please help me!”

Mae Hong-sung looked at the woman with derision, loosening his pants as he did so. “Two years! Who would even care if I killed you right now?”

There was a strong lust that could not be hidden in the voice of the man. Could the woman foresee her fate from his voice? She only had one wish at this moment, as only death would free her from the phantom before her.

“Huh. You have a nice look there.”

A woman’s voice could be heard, crying for mercy. However, the man attacked her, and she could not bear the strength of a man who had learned to use inner strength. At this time, you could hear the screams of the woman and the lustful noises of the man. After he finished, he struck the woman and left the alley alone. Inside the alley, there was only the dead body of the woman, which had cooled with her eyes still open.

“How long do I have to live like this?” Mae Hong-sung, clicking his tongue, looked around. A small lake in a deserted desert. There was quite a large village nearby. Of course, that was in comparison to its surroundings — it was it was more dead as a city prefecture less its size. This was a remote place, and nothing could deny that fact. 

It had been five years since he had come here under the direction of his master. Three Swords of Qingcheng, this name was well known in Murim. But for five years, he had played and ate as a bandit in this peripheral corner of the world. He felt insulted, humiliated by his master. When he had left, he received only two orders from his master: (1) stay in the area until we call for you and (2) find the Sandstorm of Death, teach them martial arts, and train them to be great guerilla fighters. 

He had wanted to protest. However, his master promised to teach him the final lines of the ‘Sword of Blue Clouds and Red Sunset’ if he quietly completed what he was tasked with. Within a few years, Mae Hong-sung believed that his master would call on him and he would be able to receive the last verse. 

Mae Hong-sung started straight for Xinjiang, following his master’s command. He met the Sandstorm of Death and raised them. He stalwartly believed that someday his master would call, but it had now been five years. His patience was running out. In addition, almost a year ago, he began to believe that his master had abandoned him.

It was then that Mae Hong-sung started wandering. His hidden, dirty desires began to sprout now that there were no eyes that judged him. It had led to his acts of raping and killing women in the nearby villages, ruining any servants around the area.

How much longer do I have to stay with these dirty thieves?

Mae Hong-sung’s head was full of complex thoughts as he walked. Suddenly he stopped. Although he had rolled for a few years among the low-lives, his instincts had not died yet. A slight smell of blood was mixed with the sandy breeze. However, he shook his head and kept walking. Soon, his face hardened. The direction which this bloody breeze was coming from was the place where he was headed. At first, he had thought it was the smell of a pig, but it was definitely human blood. 

What happened?

He had raised those guys for the past five years. It was annoying and dirty, but when his master called, they were what he could show as his results. What happened to those guys? Mae Hong-sung was a bit anxious. 

“It’s been a long time, Master Chuk.”

A young man was smiling brightly among his underlings, who had turned into a pile of corpses. 

This young man was Woon-seong, who flashed his pearly whites and straightened his body. He seemed to be liberated from something and was simmering with life, staring intently at the other. 

Mixed with hot desert winds, the boy’s qi had spread everywhere. He had become a Demonic General and was again cherished, how unusual. This was the first meeting after ten years. This was not how Woon-seong had ever imagined it, so he did not jump out at once and run over to slice the other’s neck. Despite the fact that one of his enemies stood in front of him, the boy’s head was clear. 

This was the effect of the marriage of his techniques. His soul and body were strengthened, helping maintain a calm judgement even before his sworn enemy. 

His lips still curled up though.

Mae Hong-sung stared at himself, reflected in the young man’s dark eyes. He was actually embarrassed and found the situation ridiculous. After five years of training, the Sandstorm of Death had fallen to just one guy. Absolute trash.

The person had also greeted him as if they were familiar, but Mae Hong-sung had never met this person before. 

The young man before him was about twenty, his body felt sharp like a blade. His skin tingled even when he stood still. By contrast, the man’s eyes were clear and calm. 

“Who are you?”

At that question, Woon-seong grabbed his spear instead of answering. He had no intention of telling Mae Hong-sung who he was. It’s not like the other would have believed him, so it was better not to say it at all. 

I only need information from him.

Of course, the story related to his identity may come out in the interrogation process. 

‘Intimidation qi’ rose from the body of the boy. This dark qi spread around, like a fog, surrounding Mae Hong-sung. This outstretched energy stimulated the human instinct of fear, causing the whole body to shudder, violently and fearfully. 

Subconsciously, Mae Hong-sung had drawn his sword. He was confused at first, but it was soon clear that he had to first fight against this dark stream of qi. He relaxed and the profound energy of the Qingcheng Sect spread across his body. 

Looking at that, Woon-seong ridiculed him inwardly. “Taoist qi, being a monk doesn’t suit you.”

It seemed that Mae Hong-sung’s skills had also not taken a major step forward. Of course, decades could pass without much development. 

It won’t be such a difficult fight.

Woon-seong was quite confident, he didn’t even need to take off any of his metal bracers. The ability of himself with the bracers on and the Sword of Men didn’t differ much.

“What are you muttering?”

At that time, Mae Hong-sung jumped out and wielded his sword. This sword containing history fell down in an arc, scattering light and energy. Its appearance was like a blue cloud! This was the swordsmanship of Qingcheng. 

This move corresponded with Woon-seong’s own. With six revolutions of his spear, he used the ‘Art of Six Seals and Destruction’. At the same time, he pushed more ‘intimidation qi’ out. Even if you were an apex predator, you could only instinctively crouch!

With the energy wrapped around his body, Mae Hong-sung flinched for a second. But it was only a momentary pause. The Taoist qi interrupted the ‘intimidation qi’. Woon-seong smiled bitterly when he saw this and promised to review this problem after the fight was settled. 

In the meantime, the clash continued. Sparks glittered through the fog and mist. The walls continued to collapse. Any bandits who were still alive but unable to move due to serious injuries were buried there as they screamed. 

Mae Hong-sung could no longer suppress his anger, his energy bursting out. Woon-seong stepped on the falling debris and snorted coldly. 

At this time, Woon-seong changed his spear arts. ‘Sword of Blue Clouds and Red Sunset’ was hard to fight against with his unfinished combinatory martial arts. 

‘Divine Spear of the Ending Night’!

Woon-seong grabbed his spear. His opponent would probably recognize this move, so the moment it was unleashed, the fight had to be finished at once. 

“Where are you running?” Mae Hong-sung chased Woon-seong into the air, sword sprinkling more than a dozen cuts. 

A misty qi had risen like a fog and wrapped around the boy. In the eyes of the boy, his opponent seemed very slow. He smiled faintly. With the spear in his hands, like a carp in water, he fell towards the sword.