The sight of those running across the land strewn with corpses felt deeply ominous. If an ordinary warrior had seen them—clad entirely in black robes and radiating a gloomy aura—they would have been terrified and trembling.
But these were no ordinary warriors.
They were disciples of Mount Hua, the Red Dogs of the Ten Thousand People Clan, and the elite of Black Ghost Tower. In terms of combat experience, they proudly claimed to be second to none in the world.
Skilled in battle and accustomed to sharp swords flying toward their targets, they were like trained swordsmen who never lost confidence regardless of the enemy they faced.
So they should not have been shaken by that sight.
Yet something strange happened.
The reaction of those so accustomed to fighting was unmistakably one of unease.
The elite of Black Ghost Tower, who had made the Southern Land tremble, stepped back without realizing it.
Even the Red Dogs, who would leap into the pits of hell for Jang Ilso and his orders, trembled.
Their faces were rough and faintly fearful.
The Four Sects Alliance, which held half of Kangho in their hands, and even among them the best of the best—how could such people cower before a mere hundred enemies?
Even if someone hated the Four Sects Alliance most in the world and wished for this, it would be laughable. Yet, at that moment, that ridiculous thing was happening.
"Ugh…"
A low groan escaped from someone's lips.
Even those who wouldn't normally groan couldn't stop their mouths from opening just by seeing the approaching figures. It was a scream of the soul, regardless of years of training.
Even the disciples of Mount Hua who had faced the Demonic Cult held their sword handles tightly, their expressions weary.
Baek Cheon unconsciously bit his lip.
"Sasuk…"
"…Yes."
Baek Cheon answered without hearing the rest of the story. It seemed he understood what was being implied without needing to hear it.
"…It is different."
It felt like sinking into a deep swamp, his entire body engulfed. The momentum they radiated, the atmosphere they exuded, their very existence seemed to choke him.
It was clearly different from before.
The Demonic Cult he had encountered in the cold lands of the North Sea had scared Baek Cheon, but the feeling then was nothing like this. He had grown stronger since that time.
The aura they now gave off was… not human.
If the gates of hell opened and devils rushed out all at once, would it feel like this?
He wasn't speaking of strength or presence. Their very existence made the living cower in fear.
'This is the real Demonic Cult,' Baek Cheon thought, lips tightly clenched.
Why had Chung Myung called the high priest of the North Sea half-baked? Why had he criticized the cruel Cult followers of that high priest as foolish? Now Baek Cheon understood.
His body was telling him—they were incomparably more dangerous than those he had known.
Crack! Crack!
Every time the cult members ran toward them, they stepped on the corpses scattered on the ground, producing a terrible sound. The disciples of Mount Hua trembled. The countless meanings contained in that eerie noise dyed their eyes red.
The black horde, rushing rather than approaching, ran violently across the crimson land, soon emanating a dark, demonic qi.
The moment everyone, including the disciples of Mount Hua, gritted their teeth, the cult warriors running toward them suddenly began to decrease.
A question flashed through everyone's eyes: why did those who had been running as if to kill suddenly stop?
Most felt suspicious at the sight.
But some saw something entirely different.
The ring on Jang Ilso's hand, who was watching the Demonic Cult with interest, made an eerie sound as it rubbed against another.
The people he had brought with him were the Red Dogs—his creations, carefully trained by selecting the best from the Ten Thousand People Clan. Yet even those Red Dogs were not moving in unison.
'So strange.'
To Jang Ilso, that sight defied common sense.
Can one imagine tigers, eyes rolled back with hunger, lined up and waiting for their prey?
Those consumed by killing intent should not be controlled. Killing intent is beyond reason.
Yet here, they were completely controlled while spewing terrible killing intent and hatred. It was hard to understand how such a thing was possible.
'Fanatics…'
It seemed that everything contained in that one word had melted into them.
The number of Demonic Cult warriors in black robes and black masks covering their faces up to the eyes was just one hundred. Yet that hundred did not feel small at all.
At that moment.
Step. Step.
A person slowly walked out from among the Demonic Cult, who seemed no different from the rest.
Step. Step.
The one who stepped into the center slowly glanced at Mount Hua and the Four Sects Alliance, who guarded them with stern faces from left to right, and slowly pulled down his mask.
"Dirty non-believers…"
His eyes were filled with deep disgust and contempt, as if looking at dirt. Those oppressed by those eerie eyes bit down their lips.
"The Heavenly Demon doesn't grant unbelievers like you the right to live and breathe."
The man's voice spread earnestly.
"But he is also extremely merciful—even to foolish and moronic people. His mercy will be fair."
His voice was pious, as if delivering a sacred mantra.
"Even now, those who realize their sins and are prepared to offer everything to the Heavenly Demon, come forward. He will forgive your sins."
"Hmmm?"
The first to respond was, of course, Jang Ilso. His brows furrowed in displeasure.
"Forgive my sins?"
"…"
"Who? What right do you have?"
Krrrrkr?
Jang Ilso's rings made a rough metallic sound.
"Who dares to forgive my sins? You? Or…"
Jang Ilso paused, then a seductive smile appeared on his red lips.
"That Heavenly Demon or whatever you believe in—the one who died a hundred years ago?"
"This… this…!"
The eyes of the man who had been speaking calmly moments before filled with an unbelievable killing intent.
"I wouldn't be satisfied even if I tore open your mouth, split your flesh, and fed you to dogs! How dare you speak of him with that dirty mouth!"
But Jang Ilso remained calm despite the overwhelming killing intent.
"Ah. Of course. My mouth isn't that clean, I know that."
He calmly waved his hand and soon let out an open laugh.
"But at least I am alive. Isn't that right? A dirty survivor is better than a clean unknown one. Even the Heavenly Demon you serve probably envies me from hell."
"YOUUUU!"
The cult warrior could no longer contain his anger and trembled.
"How dare you…"
He covered his face again with the mask he had pulled down, as if terrified of even breathing the same air as those present.
"You dirty unbelievers, you dare not know your place, show your faces before the Cult, and insult the great One?"
The eyes of the Demonic Cult gleamed with madness.
The Red Dogs, who had faced countless madmen, and the warriors of the Evil Sect felt terrified at those eyes. It was a strange and alien madness, hard to believe was human.
"…I will kill you!"
The Demonic Cult man shouted, his throat turning red.
"I will kill you! I will erase the traces of the dirty unbelievers from this world. I will tear their flesh, grind their bones, pull out their tendons, and sprinkle their blood!"
It was closer to a curse than determination, and closer to a prayer than a curse.
As soon as that shout, which seemed as if he would vomit blood, ended, the Demonic Cult troops lined up behind him.
"Tear them apart without leaving a single bit of flesh and make food of them for the beasts! How much anger will the Cult have toward those non-believers who dared insult the Heavenly Demon…"
But soon a cold voice cut off the prayer-like words.
"Man, you really are a disgusting talker."
The Demonic Cult slowly closed his mouth, then turned his head and glared at the speaker. His killing intent surged.
Chung Myung paid no attention and spoke again, twisting his neck from side to side.
"I don't want to agree with what that bastard of the Evil Sect said, but…"
Chung Myung snickered as he glanced at Jang Ilso.
"Well, it isn't so wrong. Isn't an insane bastard with makeup better than a bastard who gets his head cut off?"
"You…"
"So."
Srrng.
Chung Myung slowly pulled out the Dark Fragrant Plum Blossom Sword from its sheath. The tip of the infinitely sharp sword was aimed at the Demonic Cult.
"Stop talking and attack. I don't know since when the brats of demons began to fight with their mouths."
The Cult man glared at Chung Myung without saying a word.
A brief silence.
He kept his mouth shut, but his appearance was even more eerie than when he was madly cursing.
The demon finally opened his mouth, forcibly suppressing his boiling anger. A dreary voice spread.
"You… will die especially painfully among all of those."
"Ah, that…"
Chung Myung snickered crookedly.
"I have heard that quite often."
"…"
"But how long do I have to wait?"
Kuung!
As soon as Chung Myung finished speaking, the demon stomped on the ground. The solid earth crumbled and mud was dug up.
"…These non-believers!"
A huge voice burst out of his mouth.
"Don't spare a single one! Kill them all!"
"Second Coming of the Heavenly Demon! Cheers!"
The tremendous shouts of the Demonic Cult warriors rang out. The warriors, barely controlled by the faintest faith, ripped off the leash that bound them.
As if the unison they had shown moments ago was a lie, they ran forward, emitting a red, blood-hued aura.
"Kuaaaak!"
A wild roar rang out.
Though they ran only a short distance, the Demonic Cult warriors, unable to control their anger, grabbed those ahead and pulled them along, desperate to run faster. They roared as if they were about to bite their comrades' necks.
"Sasuk!"
"Right, here it comes!"
Baek Cheon, staring at the mind-boggling sight, gritted his teeth and took a step forward.
"Come behind me! Don't ever leave the sahyung-sajaes alone!"
"Yes!"
Baek Cheon finally blurted out the words boiling up inside him.
"Show those beasts that the natural enemy of the Demonic Cult is Mount Hua!"
A loud roar erupted from the mouths of the Mount Hua disciples.
It was the moment when the great, fierce battle that would later be called the Hangzhou Demonic Disaster was about to begin.