Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 711

The heavy sound of a body hitting the ground echoed in the sudden quiet.

It was strange.

In a battlefield still ringing with shouts and the clash of steel, to hear the sound of someone falling dead.

The battle, so loud just moments ago, had stopped as if someone had flicked a switch.

The Mount Hua swordsmen, who had been attacking fiercely, froze. The Ironclad Bandits, instead of fighting back or running, turned their heads slowly, confused.

They saw their gang leader, neck twisted at a terrible angle, and Heo-hyung’s body slumped on the ground, a dark stain spreading on his chest.

Their eyes widened in disbelief. They stared at the impossible scene before them, unable to understand what they were seeing.

The blood flowing from Heo-hyung’s chest quickly stained the floor red.

The Ironclad Bandits, having seen their leader and his guests fall so easily, lost all will to fight.

Avenge the gang leader?

That was a ridiculous idea.

They were part of the Demonic Sect, driven by strength and profit, not loyalty and affection. They wouldn’t risk their lives for a leader who couldn’t protect them.

‘What should we do?’

As they hesitated, unsure of what to do next, Chung Myung flicked the blood off his sword and started walking.

The blood from Heo-hyung’s chest made a small splashing sound as Chung Myung stepped in it.

Everyone held their breath at that clear, eerie sound.

Chung Myung, walking calmly with his sword lowered, looked directly at Mak Wi.

Mak Wi’s face turned white under that gaze.

He glanced at Heo-hyung’s body and then quickly looked back at Chung Myung.

‘Heo-hyung…’

It was unbelievable.

Heo-hyung was as strong as Mak Wi. They were almost equal in skill.

Yet, Heo-hyung had died without a real fight. He hadn’t used any powerful sword energy or overwhelming inner strength.

Chung Myung simply swung, stabbed, and cut.

With a few basic attacks, Heo-hyung’s heart was pierced.

How could this be?

Anyone who knew martial arts would see this as something incredible.

Those who were confident in their own skills, like Mak Wi, couldn’t understand it. Just like Mak Wi now.

The sound of Chung Myung walking closer pulled Mak Wi out of his deep thoughts.

Startled, Mak Wi gripped his sword tightly. He heard Chung Myung’s quiet voice.

“Why so complicated?”

Mak Wi stared blankly at Chung Myung’s face, confused by his toneless voice.

“You’re going to die anyway.”

Mak Wi didn’t answer but gripped his sword even tighter.

He was right.

The only thing left was for one of them to die. It didn’t matter how strong Chung Myung was. What did it matter in this situation?

This was often how a life spent with a sword ended. Someone who lived by the sword would one day meet someone stronger and die. Mak Wi always knew this day would come.

‘I didn’t expect it to be today, though.’

His racing heart slowed. The fear on his face faded, replaced by a calm expression.

Seeing this, Chung Myung stopped walking.

Mak Wi threw his sword sheath on the floor, gripped his sword with both hands, and pointed it at Chung Myung.

“Georyeong… Mak… Wi.”

Speaking hurt his broken jaw, making his words unclear. But he forced himself to say each word slowly. He needed to make sure his name was known.

“You…”

Chung Myung seemed to understand. The corners of his lips curled up slightly.

“Chung Myung.”

“Divine Dragon.”

Mak Wi, having made sure of this, glared at Chung Myung with a serious look.

“Last… All… everything…”

Chung Myung’s smile grew wider.

“Go ahead.”

Normally, Mak Wi wouldn’t accept that arrogant attitude. But he wasn’t angry at all.

Maybe because this would be his last fight?

No.

It was because Chung Myung had earned the right to be arrogant.

The world of martial arts was ruled by the strong. The strong had the right to be arrogant. Mak Wi knew this better than anyone.

Tension filled the air. He gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles were white.

Head cold, heart hot.

He poured all his life’s training into the tip of his sword. Winning or losing didn’t matter. What mattered was to strike without regret.

“Hoo!”

He pushed off the ground with all his inner strength.

The world blurred for a moment. The scenery twisted, but Chung Myung, in front of him, became clearer.

He had reached a level he had never reached before.

He wished he had reached this level sooner, but at least he had reached it now.

Vrrrr.

All his remaining power flowed from his core through his hands and into the sword. The sword trembled, unable to handle the immense power. It felt like it would break, but it didn’t matter.

This strike was his last anyway.

“Haaah!”

He shouted. The sword energy gathered like a small sun, giving off heat. He put everything into this strike, holding nothing back, and brought it down towards Chung Myung’s head.

Mak Wi was sure.

This was the most perfect strike of his life.

Kwaaaa!

It flew towards Chung Myung’s head with enough force to split a mountain. A thrill ran through him. He felt a rush of pure power.

In that moment of greatest pleasure, Mak Wi saw Chung Myung’s twisted smile.

Paaah!

Chung Myung’s sword, which had been hanging low, flashed upwards, fast as lightning, and struck Mak Wi’s sword.

Clang!

The moment the swords met, Chung Myung’s sword bounced back, unable to withstand the power of Mak Wi’s strike.

Mak Wi’s eyes widened.

‘I won…’

A swordsman shouldn’t directly block a powerful attack – it’s like asking to die. Chung Myung must know this. Was he being arrogant?

And then.

Chung Myung swung his sword again, faster than it had bounced back, and struck Mak Wi’s sword once more.

Clang!

Again!

Clang!

Again!

Clang!

The sword, moving as smoothly as water, struck Mak Wi’s descending sword dozens of times in the blink of an eye.

Crack!

With each strike, Mak Wi’s sword lost power and started to be pushed back.

Mak Wi realized his sword was back above his head, where he had started. He opened his mouth in shock.

‘No way…’

How could Chung Myung strike dozens of times while he swung his sword only once? It was beyond anything he knew about martial arts.

“Aaargh!”

Mak Wi, his eyes bloodshot, tried to force his sword down again.

Paaah!

Chung Myung’s sword, fast as light, cut off Mak Wi’s wrist.

Thwack!

The cleanly cut wrist showed white bone, and blood poured out.

But Chung Myung’s sword didn’t stop there.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Upper arm, elbow, shoulder, side.

Chung Myung’s sword cut Mak Wi’s body again and again.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Thigh, ankle, side of the neck, lower abdomen.

Chung Myung quickly cut all the muscles in Mak Wi’s body, then moved in like a storm and stabbed Mak Wi’s upper body several times.

Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!

Blood poured from the ten or more holes in Mak Wi’s chest and stomach.

Staaaaab!

The last strike went through the heart.

Chung Myung, having pierced his heart, looked calmly at Mak Wi as the blood sprayed over him.

His face was red with blood, but his eyes were dark and cold. Even as death approached, Mak Wi was afraid of the deep darkness in Chung Myung’s eyes.

“Why?”

The question came out as a groan. He could barely speak, but Chung Myung understood.

Chung Myung, covered in blood, twisted his lips and said.

“Martial artist?”

Mak Wi didn’t answer.

“Don’t act like you lived a good life when you’re dying. You’re just trash.”

Silence.

“So die like trash.”

“I…”

Paaah!

Chung Myung pulled his sword from Mak Wi’s heart and cut his neck.

He didn’t even want to hear his last words.

“Tuh.”

Chung Myung spat out the blood in his mouth.

The smell of blood on Chung Myung was strong. He had just killed a man who was a cruel killer himself.

He didn’t deserve any respect.

‘Not that I’m any different.’

Chung Myung scoffed, shook the blood off his sword, and sheathed it.

Without hesitation, he stepped over Mak Wi’s body and walked towards the half-collapsed building.

The sound of his footsteps echoed through the building.

As he entered, he saw Jin Yang-geon, trembling like a cornered rat.

The moment they made eye contact, Jin Yang-geon’s face turned white.

“I… I… am…”

He was shaking like a leaf.

How could anyone stay calm when seeing Chung Myung, covered in blood and staring with icy eyes? Jin Yang-geon was too weak.

Chung Myung twisted his face in anger, ground his teeth, and quickly grabbed Jin Yang-geon.

“H-heek! I, I! I!”

Chung Myung grabbed Jin Yang-geon’s neck and lifted him up. He slammed him against the wall.

“Gack! Keck!”

Jin Yang-geon shuddered from the pain in his neck and back. But what scared him most was Chung Myung’s gaze, which seemed ready to tear him apart.

“I, I was wrong! Save…”

“Speak.”

Jin Yang-geon didn’t understand. He looked at Chung Myung, confused. Then, Chung Myung spoke in a voice that sounded like it came from hell.

“Speak. Where did you get that martial art?”

“M, martial art?”

Chung Myung’s fingers dug into Jin Yang-geon’s neck. Jin Yang-geon’s face began to turn blue.

He grabbed at Chung Myung’s hand, scratching his arm, but Chung Myung didn’t move.

“Speak. Before I kill you!”

Chung Myung’s lips tore. Blood dripped down his chin and onto the floor.