Descent of The Demon Master [EN]: Chapter 1944

Sigh (2)

Belief is a strange thing.

For most people, belief is just a concept that isn’t really necessary. In life, there’s no real need to have one’s own beliefs. People without beliefs can live perfectly well and enjoy happy lives.

But sometimes, there are those who exist.

Those kinds of people who risk everything for the sake of one belief.

When that unnecessary belief is combined with an unyielding obsession, humans can do unimaginable things.

That’s why the Blood King respected those with beliefs.

Even if the direction of their beliefs differed from the Blood King’s values, he believed that those with unwavering convictions deserved respect.

But at this moment, the Blood King was forced to realize something.

That belief in itself cannot be inherently right.

That twisted beliefs can sometimes lead to even more terrible results than evil itself.

Kwaaaaaaaah!

An overwhelming power erupts.

The Blood King, who pushes back the torrent of power with his outstretched hands, grits his teeth without realizing it.

A majestic inner force.

A technique that is closer to ‘pushing away’ than ‘striking’.

All of this was in line with the Buddhist martial arts he knew.

Of course, the bloodlust mixed in this energy, and the violent application that showed no compassion, could only be described as deviating from orthodox martial arts, but there was no denying that the foundation of this martial art was Buddhist.

That’s why it’s even more infuriating.

The perfectly executed Buddhist martial arts are trying to tear people apart like demonic arts. Doesn’t that fact itself prove that martial arts are just a means?

“Youuuuuuu!”

The Blood King roared in anger.

He couldn’t stand it.

Every time the Mad Monk threw a punch, it felt like everything he stood for was being denied. At least, anyone who had even a shred of identity as a Buddhist disciple could not tolerate the existence of this apostate monk spouting such absurd sophistry.

He’s not in his right mind.

The Blood King, the Mad Monk… none of them are in their right minds. Their existence evokes a primal sense of disgust in humans.

That’s why he couldn’t shake off one thought.

What kind of person is the Black King?

What kind of person is he to have these absurd individuals under his command?

The Blood King is, in a word, a being of pure evil. He was the one who raised the question of whether a human could be so vicious.

On the other hand, the Mad Monk is more of a monster than an evil person. A volcano of twisted beliefs. He doesn’t kill others for his own gain, so the word ‘monster’ suits him better than ‘evil’.

And the Spear Saint is a typical martial artist. Although they fight as enemies, he was a man worthy of respect as a martial artist.

‘Do all of them follow the Black King?’

Water and oil. No, it’s more like heated water and oil.

It’s not just that they can’t mix.

Like oil exploding the moment water is poured into it, if these people were gathered in one place without the Black King, a massacre would unfold where they would kill each other in less than ten minutes.

The Spear Saint would not be able to tolerate the existence of the Blood King, and the Blood King would be disgusted by the Mad Monk. And the Mad Monk would try to enforce his beliefs with impartial death, no matter who the opponent is.

That obvious catastrophe is blocked by the existence of the Black King.

‘How is this possible?’

The more he thought about it, the less hatred he felt for the Blood King and the Mad Monk. Fear and awe for the Black King began to fill that space.

This is a separate issue from strength.

Anyone can tell. These are beings that cannot be suppressed by force. Even if it’s a twisted belief, can the Mad Monk, who willingly walks into hell to enforce his own will, be subdued by force?

Can the Spear Saint, whom even he admired despite being an enemy, be forced to kneel by force?

And what about the Blood King, who is closer to a demon than a human?

How can he bring these people, who are full of pride and self-confidence, under his command?

‘The Black King.’

It’s terrifying.

The Blood King rarely felt fear. Especially towards an opponent he had not directly faced, he had never once flinched.

Yet, the Blood King was now shuddering just thinking about the existence of the Black King.

He was currently exchanging blows with the Mad Monk, but it was the Black King who was pressing down on him.

“Amitabha.”

At that moment, dozens of red fist energies flew towards the Blood King like buckshot, accompanied by a majestic Buddhist chant. Each one was powerful enough to break through his protective energy and crush his body!

“Kuh!”

The Blood King steps forward.

His body instantly multiplies into nine. The fist energies pierce through the nine bodies, each taking a different stance. But even though the terrifying fist energies pierced through, none of the bodies were injured.

“The Ninefold Shadow Step…”

The Mad Monk smiled as he watched the scene.

What his fist energies pierced were just afterimages left by the Blood King. The Blood King’s real body reappeared after avoiding all the fist energies.

It wasn’t hard to understand. That Ninefold Shadow Step was the very footwork that the Shaolin Temple had once boasted to the world.

“Although the meaning has not been passed down, the martial arts have been. It feels like meeting a distant descendant.”

“Descendant? How dare you speak such words.”

“Amitabha, it is the truth. Although I am an outcast from Shaolin, I cannot help but feel joy. I know that even the ties of fate must be severed to reach true enlightenment, but how can that be easy for a human?”

The Blood King gritted his teeth.

Just by listening to him, he sounds like a high monk.

But the one in front of him now is not a Buddhist who follows the teachings of Buddhism, but a hideous monster.

But…

‘That power is real.’

He is someone who usually doesn’t avoid incoming attacks. He confronts them head-on and breaks through them head-on. That is the Blood King’s pride and the foundation of his martial arts.

But now, he couldn’t face the Mad Monk’s attacks and had to evade them.

It’s natural to avoid attacks that are difficult to handle. Anyone would think so.

But at this moment, the Blood King was fully aware that he was at a disadvantage against the Mad Monk. This is not a matter of efficiency. It’s closer to a matter of the beliefs and identity that make him who he is.

“Huuuuuuu.”

The Blood King took a long, deep breath.

‘I’ve lost myself.’

His eyes, which had been closed for a moment, shone with a sharp light. He cannot face that monster by giving in to anger.

What he needs is an unwavering mind, a heart that never falters.

How can he face that person if he is shaken like a lone boat in a stormy sea!

Kuuuuuung!

The Blood King stomped down hard.

His legs spread wide, and his fists reached his waist.

The Blood King’s body began to emit a majestic golden aura.

“Oh…”

The Mad Monk’s eyes gleamed with interest.

‘Is a genius truly a genius?’

How could he not know what that martial art is?

‘Without a proper teacher, without the footsteps of a predecessor, he has mastered that fist alone?’

It’s incredibly admirable.

An overwhelming talent that cannot be expressed with the word ‘genius’.

But that’s why he must be killed here and now. To send that untainted soul to a better world.

“Ooooooooooooo!”

The Blood King’s fist extends forward.

A fist that is slightly different from what the Mad Monk knew, but clearly started from where he knew!

The Blood King’s fist, based on the Shaolin Seventy-Two Arts, the Arhat Fist [a powerful fist technique], extended with all his might.

“Heaven-Shattering Strike!”

It wasn’t a fist thrown with his fist. It was the entire body in the stance of throwing a fist that emitted golden energy.

It wasn’t fast.

But an enormous amount of energy, unimaginable to be emitted from one person’s body, covered everything in sight and flew towards the Mad Monk.

It was a strike that even exceeded the Mad Monk’s expectations.

‘The Great Power of Non-Attachment?’

No, it’s not just that.

Based on the foundation of Buddhism, the many branches of martial arts that had been finely divided.

But what he sees now is not the end of the branches, but the solid trunk. The flows of martial arts that had spread out countless times are reversing and converging into one.

That is development, change, and evolution.

The Mad Monk’s robe flapped wildly.

The world, completely dyed in gold, looked as if it had manifested the Pure Land of Buddhism [a celestial realm] in this world.

“Amitabha!”

The Mad Monk closed his eyes.

The moment he saw that golden light, even he felt a moment of salvation. He was momentarily overcome with the urge to entrust himself to that golden light and rest.

But that cannot be.

“If not me, then who will go to hell?”

His hands slowly circled around his body. Unlike the rough attacks he had shown so far, they were soft, too soft, as if dancing.

And along the trajectory of his hands, countless hand shadows began to appear.

Dozens, hundreds, no! Thousands!

Thousands of hand shadows appeared, but none of them were the same. The hand shadows that appeared and appeared covered the world dyed in gold.

It was like a battle between an Arhat [a perfected being] and an Asura [a demigod]. A clash of all-out power between superhumans who had surpassed the limits of humanity.

The golden light emitted by the Blood King and the hand shadows created by the Mad Monk collided and intertwined in the air.

Crack!

The Blood King’s outstretched arm twisted and broke.

Crunch!

The Mad Monk’s leg, which was planted on the ground, burst from the pressure, and blood gushed out like a fountain.

Every part of their bodies was crushed and twisted, unable to withstand the clash of power, but neither the Blood King nor the Mad Monk blinked an eye.

As if they didn’t feel pain, or as if the pain of their bodies didn’t matter.

All their nerves were focused solely on their opponent and the martial arts they had unleashed.

As if only the two of them were left in the whole world!

“Ooh!”

The Blood King extends his foot forward.

His shoes are reduced to dust, the flesh at the tip of his foot is crushed, and white bone is exposed. But the Blood King, stepping hard with his tattered foot, spread his twisted arms wide.

“Ooooooooooooo!”

At that moment, a light brighter than before was emitted from the Blood King’s entire body. The golden aura was so bright that it looked almost white. That white light erased all the hand shadows and covered the Mad Monk’s entire body.

“A! Mi! Ta! Buddha!”

At that moment, a thunderous Buddhist chant erupted from the Mad Monk’s mouth.

The Mad Monk spun his body once. At the same time, the blood that had been scattered from his body flew in all directions, but soon vaporized and scattered again, unable to withstand the pressure.

“Tathagata!”

Kuuuuuung!

The moment the Mad Monk’s palm, which had been planted on the ground, was extended forward.

The Blood King saw it.

A hand.

A hand that was too huge.

The sight of a hand, so huge that it could cover the world, pushing away all the energy he had emitted and covering him.