Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 1668

“Don’t fall back! You fools…!”

“Aaaaargh!”

Like leaves falling in autumn.

Normally, that phrase wouldn’t fit these pine-filled mountains, but right now, it was perfect.

Those who had gone around the cliff on the steep slope were literally rolling and falling like leaves in the wind.

The Wudang sword style was known for being gentle and flowing. But now, it was used with a deadly force that the Demonic Path fighters could not defend against.

Slish.

The sword of Wudang moved with surprising speed, yet it seemed almost gentle at the same time. It was sharp enough to cut through anything, but it didn’t look forceful. It mercilessly cut down the enemies climbing the slope.

“Aaaaargh!”

Another scream erupted, and a Demonic Path swordsman, his throat pierced, fell. His body swept away those climbing behind him, sending them tumbling down.

“This is…”

Paaah!

The Wudang swordsmanship, which had been subduing enemies as gently as flowing water, transformed like a pouring waterfall, engulfing the Demonic Path fighters on the slope.

“You son of a…!”

He engaged the enemies below and then leaped down without rotating his body! Wasn’t this a foolish act of exposing his lower body? No matter how strong Wudang might be, the Demonic Path swordsmen, their eyes bloodshot, thrust their swords and spears, aiming to create a large hole in his lower half.

But at that moment…

Whoosh.

Just as the spears were about to reach his legs, the Wudang swordsman stopped in mid-air. He floated upwards.

“Wh…”

Whoooosh!

The sword, twisting in mid-air, gently pushed away the spears. Piercing through the space, a sudden sword strike was launched like a swallow darting in.

Slice! Slice!

A chilling sensation tore through his chest. The one who had extended the spear stared wide-eyed at the Wudang swordsman who landed lightly.

The name of a martial art flashed through his mind as he looked at that indifferent face.

“Je, Jeun….”

Before he could finish, blood gushed out, redder than the sunset. His pupils rolled back. In his last moment, he saw the Wudang disciples soaring upwards like clouds.

“…Jong.”

Jeun Jong (Soaring Cloud Steps). A supreme art of Wudang that allowed one to ascend and descend in the air as if playing among the clouds. It was a peerless technique that, when it came to moving up and down, was said to have no equal except for the Kunlun’s Cloud Dragon Grand Eight Form.

And it was displaying its power to the fullest on this steep Wudang Mountain.

“O, oh…”

Despair settled in the eyes of the Demonic Path swordsmen, who had been climbing the mountain without fear, even while witnessing countless deaths.

That sword was beyond their skill.

Moreover, how could they face those who wielded such swords and moved up and down the mountain at will?

Strong. This sight alone was enough to understand why Wudang was a sect that rivaled Shaolin as one of the two great pillars of the world.

And how reckless it was to try and confront such individuals.

“Th, this is…”

As the blood that had been heating his head cooled, the surrounding scenery came into view. Those who had bypassed and were climbing the slope were blocked by the Wudang swordsmen and were unable to advance. Those who were climbing the cliff were only screaming, blocked by falling rocks and stones.

Could they really break through? Should they retreat now and bypass to the opposite ridge….

“Aaaaaaaaaaargh!”

An ear-piercing scream rang out. It caught his ear because it came from behind him, not in front.

Turning around, he saw a Demonic Path swordsman collapsing, blood scattering from his back. He had hesitated and was killed as an example.

“Keep climbing.”

“……”

“Now!”

Gritting!

Everyone gritted their teeth, reminded that there was no retreat. Those who fled would face a miserable end, worse than death on the mountain.

“Uwaaaaaaaaah!”

“Aaaaaaaaah!”

They screamed and charged forward, knowing how to deal with strong opponents, those they couldn’t defeat with skill.

Swaaaaash!

A fiercely swung sword rushed towards the Wudang swordsman. Not one, but three swords.

Another sword followed, aiming for the same spot.

“Hap!”

The Wudang swordsman did not panic. A sword that had reached the extreme of gentleness did not fear the opponent’s strength. Rather, the stronger the opponent, the more he could do.

Saaah.

The gently moving sword lightly pushed away the tips of the incoming swords, twisting their trajectories.

Kagaang!

The swords became entangled in mid-air. In that gap, the Wudang swordsman quickly swung his sword.

But at that moment…

The Demonic Path swordsmen released their swords and covered him with their bodies.

Paat!

The extended sword embedded itself in the heart of one of the Demonic Path swordsmen. It was a cold-blooded strike, allowing no leeway. There was no time to grab the sword, let alone hold onto his pants.

However, something unexpected occurred.

Blood trickled down the Songmun Ancient Sword that had pierced his heart.

Normally, the muscles around a sword wound would constrict, limiting the bleeding until the sword was removed. But the blood drew his attention.

‘Isn’t the blood… a little thin?’

Thud.

The one thought to be dead grabbed the Wudang swordsman’s hand, an act of lingering attachment.

As the Wudang swordsman tried to pull away, the one whose heart had been pierced opened his mouth with difficulty.

“Heu….”

His face was bizarre, filled with ‘fear.’

The Wudang swordsman tried to push him away.

Whoooosh!

Crimson flames erupted from the dying Demonic Path swordsman’s body, spreading along the sword and reaching the Wudang swordsman.

‘Oil?’

He had to let go of the sword and retreat. But the teachings of his sect, which forbade him from abandoning his sword, made him hesitate.

He paid the price with his body.

“Aaaaaaaaaaargh!”

The flames shot up his arm. Ordinary fire wouldn’t have spread so quickly.

He struggled to put out the fire. Then, something flew towards his eyes: a small ball the size of a child’s fist.

He saw the swaying movement and widened his eyes, forgetting his burning arm.

Thwack! Thwack!

The balls burst open, scattering a faint blue liquid. The liquid, added to the flames, created a huge fire.

“Uwaaaaaaaaaaargh!”

The swordsman’s body was engulfed in flames. He swung his sword reflexively, then threw it away and covered his face. He emitted internal energy and rolled on the ground, but the flames wouldn’t go out.

Crack!

A sword struck his neck.

“Keu… euk.”

It was just another death in the war, but different from the others.

“‘Neng Yu Je Gang (The Gentle Controls the Strong)?’

One of the Demonic Path leaders sneered, looking at the burning Wudang swordsman. He lit a fire on the nameless cloth wrapped around his spear, turning it into a long torch that illuminated Wudang Mountain.

“Did you think this was some noble duel, Taoist? This is war. And in war, any weapon is righteous. Your precious skills are meaningless against fire and fear.”

He thrust his spear into a pine tree, the dry bark burning and emitting white smoke.

“Throw!”

“Yes!”

Swaaaaaaash!

Thin leather pouches filled with oil poured forward.

“Heut!”

The Wudang swordsmen knocked away the oil balls, but they could only fall nearby.

“Shoot!”

Paaaaat!

Countless fire arrows flew towards them.

Arrows were being shot upwards from below.

Arrows shot haphazardly by untrained individuals still managed to land at the feet of the Wudang swordsmen, achieving their purpose.

Whoooosh!

The oil ignited, spreading flames.

“Fall back!” Li Wei yelled, his voice strained with urgency, pushing a younger disciple behind him.

“He, here!”

“Damn it, what are you doing! Put out the fire! No, just cut it off! Cut it off with your clothes!”

The Wudang swordsmen stepped back in horror, waving their hands and striking with their swords, but the fire didn’t go out easily.

“What kind of trickery is this?”

It was like glue, not fire. He had never heard of such a fire! This was not ordinary oil!

Moreover, more oil was coming.

Swaaaaash!

“Sa-hyeooooooong!”

The oil mass burst on the bodies of several Wudang disciples.

“Fa, fall ba… Aaaaaaargh!”

Those without flames could retreat, but those already on fire faced a terrible fate.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”

The flames swallowed people. Screams and the smell of burning flesh vibrated throughout the mountain. The scene was etched in the eyes of the Wudang swordsmen.

“Aaaaaaaaagh!”

“What are you doing! Help! Put out the fire! Hurry! Jinmyeong! Jinmyeongaaaaaaa!”

The trained internal energy allowed them to maintain consciousness while burning, feeling the pain of their bodies burning away.

It was when the Wudang disciples were flustered.

“They’re coming again!”

“What?”

Mujin looked down and widened his eyes.

‘That’s?’

People with different attire were standing below, with features unlike those of the Central Plains people, with sharper noses and eyes, and skin tanned by a different sun. They had sun-shaped patterns on their chests.

Cold sweat ran down Mujin’s back.

‘T, the Sun….’

“Launch.”

Paaaaaaaaat!

Countless oil pouches and fire arrows soared from below, filling the sky.

‘The Yangtze….’

The scene they wanted to forget, the scene they thought they could erase, came to the minds of the Wudang swordsmen, overlapping with the present.