Dokgo Heon's sword pierced through the back of the Black Night Palace Lord, emerging from their chest. Even with their heart impaled, the Black Night Palace Lord sneered mockingly.
"Sword Demon. They call you the greatest sword of the evil sects for the swordsmanship you created alone, and it seems the title isn't undeserved."
"Shut your mouth and just die, old hag."
Shwick!
As he withdrew his sword, a fountain of blood gushed from the split chest. Even as his vision was stained red by the blood, Dokgo Heon swung his sword without hesitation, severing the Black Night Palace Lord's neck.
"Filthy demonic scum."
The Black Night Palace, a demonic force that suddenly appeared in Shaanxi, causing a bloodbath. Having beheaded their leader, this carnage, destined to be recorded as the Shaanxi Blood Incident, would end today.
As Dokgo Heon turned away without lingering, blood dripped from his entire body with every step he took. He was barely holding on, his injuries so severe that collapsing at any moment wouldn't be surprising.
Dokgo Heon staggered toward a middle-aged man leaning against a rock and slumped down in front of him.
"Malko, you dead?"
"Still alive."
Hyeonjo, the Sword Saint of Huashan, who had lost both eyes to the Black Night Palace Lord, was barely breathing, tears of blood streaming down his face. Even in such a state, he clung tightly to his broken Plum Blossom Sword, a pitiful sight that stirred something in Dokgo Heon's eyes.
"The promise to create new sword techniques and compete… looks like it'll be hard to keep."
"Malko, even on the verge of death, you're still talking about swords?"
"No surprise there. Haven't we lived like this our whole lives, Sword Demon?"
"That's right. We've lived obsessed with the sword."
The Sword Demon, Dokgo Heon.
The Huashan Sword Saint, Hyeonjo.
Their bond was forged through the sword. Sword friends.
Their first encounter was as enemies, but as they crossed swords time and again, their relationship evolved. An enemy became a worthy rival, and a rival became a friend.
For swordsmen who met in the martial world and bonded through their blades, the divide between righteous and evil was a trivial matter.
"Take care of my disciple… and Huashan. Just occasionally, that's enough."
"Have you forgotten who I am? Asking the greatest sword of the evil sects to look after the Huashan Sect?"
"Heh…"
As the rock Hyeonjo leaned against grew soaked with blood, his breathing grew faint, and his voice faded. Dokgo Heon, who hadn't flinched despite the pain wracking his body, furrowed his brow.
Dokgo Heon, an orphan with nothing but a single sword he'd picked up somewhere, had to become obsessed with the blade and ruthless to survive in the martial world. Naturally, grudges piled up, and all that remained were ties of enmity.
And those ties of enmity were all severed with his blade.
In the life of the Sword Demon, steeped in blood and grudges, the only bond of kindness was Hyeonjo of the Huashan Sect.
Dokgo Heon was now facing the end of his first and last bond of kindness.
Perhaps sensing Dokgo Heon's ragged breathing, Hyeonjo, with a faint smile, fumbled with his wrist and placed a red jade bracelet in Dokgo Heon's palm.
"The Plum Blossom Token. A sacred relic of Huashan. Deliver it to the sect leader."
"You're piling on the requests like a madman, Malko."
Though Dokgo Heon spoke gruffly, he slipped the Plum Blossom Token onto his wrist as if determined not to lose it.
"And to my disciple…"
Boom!
Hyeonjo's final words were drowned out by a sudden explosion. A surge of demonic energy erupted from behind, swallowing the rock in an instant. The whirlwind of demonic energy pulverized the rock into dust, and Hyeonjo, leaning against it, met the same fate.
It happened in the blink of an eye, too fast to even register. As his friend was reduced to a puddle of blood, veins bulged in Dokgo Heon's eyes.
At that moment, Hyeonjo's wrist, still clutching the broken Plum Blossom Sword, fell with a thud at Dokgo Heon's feet.
A chilling, inhuman scream erupted from Dokgo Heon's lips.
For the first time, the unshakable reason of the Sword Demon, who had crossed countless life-and-death battles, snapped.
"Raaagh!"
Enraged by the instantaneous annihilation of his only friend into a pool of blood, Dokgo Heon wildly swung his sword forward.
The terrifying shockwave met the surging demonic energy head-on.
Crack!
Even as cracks formed in his sword, Dokgo Heon pressed forward, thrusting his blade to the end without wavering.
Whoosh!
The moment the demonic energy split apart like a storm, a massive, dark gray palm strike shot through the divided energy like lightning.
Having already pushed his body beyond its limits with that strike, Dokgo Heon couldn't react in time.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Struck by the incoming palm strike, Dokgo Heon's body was flung into the air. Three more palm strikes followed, battering him and pushing him back toward the edge of the cliff.
"Urgh!"
Spewing blood in all directions, Dokgo Heon plummeted off the cliff. In his fading vision, he saw a man wearing a pitch-black mask.
'That damned bastard… how long has he been…'
They say a person's life flashes before their eyes in their final moments, but Dokgo Heon had no time for such thoughts.
'Malko!'
He had lost his friend before his eyes and couldn't even recover his body. And now, he himself was facing death at the hands of the same culprit.
"If I survive this, I'll find you and tear you apart…"
Dokgo Heon's eyes, burning with rage and vengeance, glowed a ferocious red.
"Hmph."
Though his voice was barely a rasp, the masked man seemed to hear it, letting out a small chuckle.
Dokgo Heon didn't miss that brief laugh.
"Laughing? You murderous bastard…"
The resolve brimming with the will to survive grew faint as his eyelids became increasingly heavy. Dokgo Heon, struggling to gather his scattering consciousness, poured every ounce of his strength into moving his uncontrolled body.
Thump.
Was it his will to live? Or the determination in the face of death? Dokgo Heon's heart, which had been gradually slowing, beat fiercely one last time.
With that, his heart stopped, but the resolute pulse traveled through his wrist and reached the Plum Blossom Spirit Bead.
Suddenly, the Plum Blossom Spirit Bead on his arm radiated a brilliant crimson light, enveloping Dokgo Heon.
***
Thump.
"The pulse… it's back!"
"What? It had clearly stopped just moments ago. The heavens have intervened! Praise the Primordial Heavenly Sovereign!"
Dokgo Heon's eyebrows twitched at the shrill voice ringing in his ears.
'Am I alive? I definitely fell off a cliff.'
Even if it wasn't the cliff, the internal injuries he had sustained in his final moments were far too fatal.
Instinctively, Dokgo Heon tried to move his body, but his entire frame felt as heavy as water-soaked cotton, making it nearly impossible to even twitch a finger.
With great effort, Dokgo Heon barely managed to lift his right eyelid slightly.
What he saw were the young disciples of the Huashan Sect, bustling about with long acupuncture needles in hand.
"Elder Baekjin! Senior Brother has opened his eyes!"
"Muhui, you've held on well. Don't lose focus—keep holding on tight!"
Dokgo Heon looked with bewildered eyes at Baekjin, who was administering acupuncture to his body.
Baekjin. An elder of the Huashan Sect, in charge of the Hall of Healing Arts (Huayigak). The most skilled physician in the Huashan Sect. Dokgo Heon had once been treated by him for a wound on his arm, so they were acquainted.
'Why is he calling me Muhui?'
Come to think of it, the young disciple attending to him had also called him "Senior Brother."
'Muhui, Muhui. Muhui?'
The name sounded familiar, and as Dokgo Heon mulled it over, a realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.
Muhui (Martial Radiance).
The senior-most disciple of the second generation of the Huashan Sect.
And his close friend, a disciple of Hyeonjo.
Dokgo Heon couldn't fathom why he was being called Muhui.
"Damn… it all."
Barely managing to utter a single phrase, Dokgo Heon lost consciousness once more