“Emotions are truly unnecessary things. Seeing you now, Young Union Lord, I can see it clearly.”

Watching Seolhwa unleash her fierce aura, Mangwol clicked his tongue.

“If you had remained in Huaoru, you wouldn’t be dying now, swayed by emotions.”

“I am more rational now than I have ever been. If I had truly been swayed by my emotions, your limbs would already be hacked off.”

“Heheh. So you say. A pity. This old man rather liked you, Young Union Lord.”

“Is that so? You were always the one I hated most. You reek like something rotten.”

At her taunt, a twitch ran through the corner of Mangwol’s eyes.

The next instant, his figure lunged right up to Seolhwa’s face.

Whoosh—

Clangclangclangclang!

Mangwol slashed with claws sharp enough to tear her apart.

Both hands slashing, the attacks were lightning-quick and vicious.

Seolhwa retreated, parrying his strikes.

Clang! Clangclang! Clang!

“Heheheh! Did you not say you were rational? Where has all your overflowing spirit gone, why do you only retreat?”

Each clash of claw and blade sparked with faint light.

Swiish! Swishhh!

The sounds of air being ripped did not cease.

Slice—

A shallow cut appeared on Seolhwa’s cheek.

Swish—

Her sword likewise carved the edge of Mangwol’s right ear.

“To think you could trade blades equally with this old man! You’ve grown much, Young Union Lord!”

“That kind of talk...”

The Namgoong Clan’s unique sword art.

Azure Sky Flying Swallow Sword!

“Don’t call it by name!”

Seolhwa’s sword curved gracefully, thrusting into Mangwol’s opening.

Beneath his wrinkles, Mangwol’s eyes gleamed sharply for an instant.

Kuuuuum....

Around both his hands, a dense, black-violet aura surged.

Mangwol’s own unique blood technique.

Ten Thousand Tribulations Demonic Spirit Blood!

Boomboomboomboom!

The two forces clashed, tearing at each other as if to devour.

Shhhrrriiiiek—!

The cries of the torn, the cut, and the stolen surged endlessly, rending the air.

Then—

Crack!

Mangwol clasped Seolhwa’s blade between both hands.

Around his hands, the black-violet aura raged ever more violently.

Crunch—!

Seolhwa, too, forced her qi into her blade, twisting it.

But Mangwol only smiled, holding her sword immovably.

“Are you grieving? So even one tainted with blood is left dazed like this?”

“...Shut up. Before I rip your mouth apart.”

“Heheheh! No matter how strong you’ve grown, you’re still a child. Ah, but perhaps if you had stayed by my Lord’s side and learned martial arts, things might have been different.”

Clangclang!

“You won’t return? My Lord still waits. He has always cherished you above all.”

Seolhwa sneered.

“Cherished? You call that cherishing?”

“To this old man’s eyes, it was an obsession beyond measure.”

“He took everything from me.”

Family, friends, memories, the clan.

Even herself.

“Just the thought of him makes me tremble with rage... he’s the one I want to kill more than anyone.”

“He would enjoy seeing you like this all the more.”

“....”

Seolhwa pressed down on her twisted sword, intent on severing Mangwol’s fingers.

“But tell me. If you knew I was coming, did you not also expect I would take your grandfather?”

Clangclangclang!

Seolhwa suddenly wrenched her blade free with force.

“Then you should have guarded him better.”

Tap—tatat!

Mangwol released her blade just before being cut and leapt back.

Now his position was toward Namgoong Mucheon’s grave.

In the heat of their battle, their places had switched.

“!”

Seolhwa moved to close in again.

But Mangwol snapped his fingers.

At once, over a dozen shadows sprang between them.

Seolhwa furrowed her brow as she looked at those who blocked her path.

‘...Jiangshi.’

All of them were corpses Mangwol commanded.

Her gaze fixed on one in ragged monastic robes.

‘That Jiangshi... could it be Monk Gyewon?’

The corpse Shaolin had so desperately sought.

She looked across the others — some wore the robes of the Mount Hua Sect, some the attire of Wudang Sect.

There was even one in green robes of Zhongnan.

Though their faces were unrecognizable, every one of them radiated a formidable aura.

Being dead, it was hard to gauge their true level.

Clang—

Seolhwa gripped her sword firmly.

Her sharp gaze locked onto Mangwol, hidden behind the Jiangshi.

“I told you. We were waiting for you too.”

Tap—tat, taat.

Four figures appeared at Seolhwa’s back.

“Ugh, the stench here is unbearable.”

Seop Mugwang.

“So that is the one you spoke of, Seolhwa.”

Namgoong Cheongun.

“Hmph. I’ve never before seen corpses used as subordinates. Truly vile.”

Namgoong Hyeok, Lord of the Black Dragon Unit.

“And are these the bastards who made Father ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) suffer like that?”

Crack. Pop.

Namgoong Mugang rolled his shoulders as he stepped forward to stand beside Seolhwa.

“I’ll take five of them. I’ll show them what it means to die even after death.”

Seop Mugwang, Cheongun, and Namgoong Hyeok also stepped forward, gripping their swords.

Seolhwa, standing among them, raised her blade as well.

“Each of these Jiangshi is at the level of a peak master. They know no pain, they fear no death, which makes them even harder to deal with...”

She pointed her sword toward Mangwol.

“Sever their limbs. That way, even the dead can be slain.”

At that piercing gaze, a chill crept up Mangwol’s neck.

“Heheheh....”

Yet he did not avert his eyes.

“To think the Namgoong Clan would send so much of its strength just to capture me — an honor, but do you truly think those numbers can stop me?”

Mangwol snapped his fingers again.

Two Jiangshi near him shuffled to Namgoong Mucheon’s grave.

“I truly wonder. How mighty will the Sword Emperor’s corpse be? Until now I’ve had no Jiangshi beyond the peak master level. I look forward to this.”

“Touch that, and you die today. Can you bear it?”

Around Seop Mugwang, energy surged with a crackling roar.

The Thunder-Wind Sword Technique.

Recognizing him, Mangwol’s eyes curved into crescents.

“Heheh, but first you must deal with my children.”

He snapped his fingers once more.

Mangwol’s figure, faintly visible between the Jiangshi, vanished behind them.

Seolhwa and the four others stood facing the undead.

“Never thought I’d live to fight the dead.”

Seop Mugwang muttered low.

“Hup!”

Thoom!

Namgoong Mugang stomped the ground.

The earth split beneath his feet and tore toward the Jiangshi.

Rrrrumble—

Tap—tatat!

The Jiangshi leapt in unison, avoiding the fissure.

Namgoong Mugang immediately unleashed qi strikes toward the airborne corpses.

The battle had begun.

“Let’s go, disciple!”

Tap—tatat!

Seolhwa and Seop Mugwang charged the closest Jiangshi.

Cheongun and Namgoong Hyeok exchanged glances, then dove between the ones in the rear.

Clang—! Chachachang!

Whoosh—Clang! Clang!

Beneath the dark sky, battle raged at full strength.

The moon shone bright, the air thick and damp after rain.

“Disciple!”

Seop Mugwang unleashed the Thunder-Wind Sword Technique.

Boomboomboom!

Like thunder and lightning, his qi engulfed the Jiangshi.

Heavenly Thunder Divine Sword, First Form.

Heaven Falls, Heaven Descends!

Through the gaps his thunder tore, Seolhwa’s lightning qi pierced.

Boom!

Ten Iron Sword Forms, Upper Forms.

Heaven and Earth Severed.

Four Directions Forbidden.

Heavenly Stems Pierced.

Namgoong Hyeok unleashed the Namgoong Clan’s sword arts, shouting:

“Little Clan Lord!”

Tap—!

From behind him, a clear blue qi surged forward.

Heavenly Wind Sword Technique.

Four Dragons in Chaos!

Kwagwagwang—!

A blue dragon roared forth, cleaving through the Jiangshi, severing their arms and legs.

Boom—! Crash!

Even those cut down felt no pain.

Taat—!

They did not fear death.

Whoosh—whoom!

Even with arms severed, even with bellies pierced.

Tap—taat!

They rose endlessly, charging endlessly.

Clangclangclang!

Mangwol, watching the battle, walked toward the grave.

“Have you finished digging?”

The Jiangshi, who had been clawing the earth barehanded, stepped back.

Within the torn ground lay a single massive coffin.

“Heheheh.... I never met the Sword Emperor in life, but his name I heard more than I could stomach.”

Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor.

The unparalleled genius born of the Namgoong Clan.

A title earned because no one could defeat him with the sword.

“If I claim the Sword Emperor, even that man will not dare laugh at me again.”

He chuckled.

Mangwol gripped the coffin lid.

The nails were driven deep, but to his claws they were nothing.

Crack... crack.

The nails popped free, Mangwol’s face brightening with tension and anticipation.

At last.

‘At last...!’

He wrenched the lid open with force.

The lid flew and crashed heavily into the dirt.

Mangwol’s eyes trembled violently as he stared into the open coffin.

“What—what is this?”

The coffin was empty.

Unconsciously, Mangwol whipped his head around in panic.

Where?

Where was the Sword Emperor’s body?

He grabbed the coffin and hurled it aside.

One Jiangshi outside the grave was crushed beneath it, failing to rise again.

“What is this... how could this be...?”

He clawed madly at the dirt beneath where the coffin had rested.

Screee—crunch!

The soil shredded beneath his nails.

‘Wasn’t the Young Union Lord guarding this grave?’

Had she not been waiting to protect Namgoong Mucheon’s corpse, knowing he would come?

How could the body, which must have been here, be gone?

“How can it not be here!”

Then—

“Were you looking for me?”

The moonlight vanished.

A dark shadow blanketed Mangwol from above.

His hand froze in place.

A drop of sweat slid from his face and fell into the torn soil.

Slowly, Mangwol turned his head upward.

And saw a mountain standing, blocking out the moon.