Episode 300: Return to the Demon Sect
“The one who took in Ong Gi-seung back then was a Taoist once known by the nickname ‘Cheonghaeja.’ His real name was Ong Hae-in.”
“So he took Ong’s surname and became Ong Gi-seung.”
“Exactly.”
Sabikang nodded in agreement with Jeong Ryugwang’s explanation.
In the distance, the edge of the Black Cloud Fortress began to come into view.
Jeong Ryugwang quickened his pace and continued speaking.
“After Cheonghaeja Ong Hae-in taught Gi-seung the art of the Sleeping Divine Technique, he passed away a few years later. Gi-seung took on the Ong surname, held a funeral, and returned to the Blood Demon Sect.”
“Why did he go back? Wasn’t Gu Gang-ryong there?”
“How would I know? But perhaps…”
Jeong Ryugwang squinted, lost in thought, before speaking again.
“Maybe he realized it was an unavoidable fate.”
“Unavoidable fate?”
“No matter how much you hide or run, some things you have to face eventually. And it’s not like he could just end it all out of guilt. Maybe he thought it was better to tie up loose ends.”
“But it seems those ends were never tied.”
“Indeed. The sect leader accepted him, so Gu Gang-ryong couldn’t just deal with Ong Gi-seung as he pleased. But a festering wound always bursts eventually.”
“Did Gu Gang-ryong start causing trouble?”
“Yes. Once renowned as the leader of the Wind Slayers, he began to go astray. He couldn’t understand why the sect leader accepted the brother who killed their father.”
“Understandable, I suppose.”
“Honestly, I don’t get it either. Why did the Blood Demon Sect leader accept Ong Gi-seung? Technically, Ong Gi-seung was the root of the problem, having killed his subordinates. There was no reason to keep him alive.”
“Hmm.”
Sabikang walked on in silence.
Though Jeong Ryugwang claimed not to understand, Sabikang had his suspicions. But he saw no need to voice them here.
“So Gu Gang-ryong kept causing trouble and got pushed to the Newborn Division, and what about Ong Gi-seung?”
“That’s the funny part. Ong Gi-seung mastered the Sleeping Divine Technique, which is deeply rooted in Taoist philosophy. How could he fit into an organization? Imagine the leader or captain is speaking, and he’s dozing off. How frustrating would that be?”
Sabikang could imagine.
Of course, Ong Gi-seung probably wasn’t ignoring orders just because he was dozing. But such behavior wouldn’t suit organizational life.
Sabikang nodded, piecing the story together.
Meanwhile, the three of them reached the entrance to the mountain where the Black Cloud Fortress was located.
Jeong Ryugwang looked up and asked, “Why are you dragging me along, anyway?”
“You’ve got a job to do,” Sabikang replied curtly, striding ahead.
**
“Huff, huff, huff.”
Seok Tan-gang let his arms hang limply, gasping for breath.
In his hands was a blood-stained chain sickle.
“That… monster of a man…!”
“He’s a real piece of work!”
The black-clad figures surrounding Seok Tan-gang ground their teeth in frustration.
In the open space of the lower fortress, dozens of warriors lay sprawled.
Some had lost their lives to the chain sickle, while others had limbs severed.
All had fallen to Seok Tan-gang.
To a single man.
Seok Tan-gang took a deep breath, scanning his surroundings with a cold gaze.
His predatory eyes alone were enough to intimidate those around him.
As the black-clad figures flinched, Seok Tan-gang smirked and asked, “There’s something strange about your aura. Yet, it feels oddly familiar. Where have I sensed it before…?”
The black-clad figures twitched their noses in irritation.
Despite their numbers, Seok Tan-gang’s nonchalant demeanor was infuriating.
Just then, Seok Tan-gang seemed to remember something.
“Ah, that’s it. But… why?”
He muttered to himself, lost in thought, then shook his head.
“I don’t know why. Maybe I should just ask. You there!”
Seok Tan-gang raised his sickle, pointing at the black-clad figures.
They flinched, stepping back, then scowled, annoyed at their own reaction.
The leader of the black-clad figures gritted his teeth and asked, “What is it?”
“Why does your aura feel similar to his?”
“What nonsense are you spouting?”
“Ong Gi-seung. Why do you smell like him?”
“Ask your friend.”
“He’s not much of a talker.”
The leader decided there was no point in further conversation.
Though Seok Tan-gang was putting on a brave front, he was on the verge of collapse.
He was panting heavily, his shoulders heaving.
The leader shouted to his men, “He’s at his limit. Finish him!”
In an instant, the black-clad figures brandished their swords and charged.
Seok Tan-gang kicked off the ground to meet them.
With his energy nearly depleted, he couldn’t use any energy-draining techniques.
Instead, he used minimal energy to strike down or evade the incoming enemies.
Swish! Thud! Slash! Thud!
“Aaargh!”
“Ugh!”
Screams echoed as blood sprayed.
But there were too many enemies.
Finally, a gap in Seok Tan-gang’s defense appeared, and an enemy’s sword slashed at him.
Slash!
“Ugh!”
Seok Tan-gang staggered back, clutching his side.
As he retreated, another enemy’s sword aimed for his neck.
‘Damn… is this the end?’
He thought he couldn’t dodge this time.
But he refused to close his eyes in the face of death.
He would die with his eyes wide open!
At that moment,
Swish! Clang!
A dagger flew from somewhere, deflecting the enemy’s sword.
The black-clad figure staggered back, looking up in irritation.
His brow furrowed deeply.
“Who are they now?”
Seok Tan-gang, having narrowly escaped death, turned to see a group of warriors pouring through the fortress gate.
“Kang!”
The sharp voice belonged to none other than Yoo Song-ryeong, rushing toward him.
Seok Tan-gang chuckled and collapsed to the ground.
He looked at the black-clad figures and said, “You’re all dead now.”
No sooner had he spoken than,
“You bastards! You dared to harm Kang! I’ll skin you alive and toss you into the desert!”
Yoo Song-ryeong screamed like a banshee, swinging his massive sword.
**
The Red Mask squinted at the wide-open fortress gate.
‘The gate’s still open, which means the fight’s ongoing. Good thing I brought the Red Demon Brigade.’
Behind him, about three hundred warriors in red stood ready.
At his signal, the Red Demon Brigade charged through the gate.
As the Red Mask followed them in, he was stunned by the scene inside the lower fortress.
Seok Tan-gang and the Newborn Division members were covered in blood, panting heavily, while black-clad figures lay dead or wounded around them.
Meanwhile, the Newborn Division, having just subdued the black-clad figures, was taken aback by the sudden influx of red-clad warriors.
“Who are they now?”
Maeng Ga-sook wiped the sweat from his brow, grumbling.
When the Newborn Division arrived to help Seok Tan-gang, only a few black-clad figures remained.
But reinforcements from the middle fortress had made the fight difficult.
Though not many, the reinforcements were far more skilled.
Just as they managed to defeat them, another group appeared.
The Red Demon Brigade quickly surrounded the Newborn Division.
Three hundred strong.
An overwhelming number.
And their aura was far more menacing than the previous black-clad figures.
“Who are you?”
Baek Gong-bo clapped his hands together, asking.
The Red Mask smirked at the Newborn Division.
“Seems like we have more than just prey here. Wipe them out.”
“Yes, sir!”
The Red Demon Brigade responded in unison, surging toward the Newborn Division like a crimson tide.
“Damn it, Gu Gang-ryong’s bringing all sorts of scum now! Fine, let’s dance the dance of blood!”
Maeng Ga-sook shouted defiantly, swinging his nine-section whip.
**
Drip… drip…
Ong Gi-seung watched the blood trickle down his arm, dripping from his fingertips.
This time, it was his own blood.
Slashed all over, he could barely stand.
The only consolation was that the wounds weren’t deep enough to be life-threatening.
The black-clad figures wielding chain hooks were indeed focused on capturing him alive, as the grinning man had ordered.
Seeing Ong Gi-seung’s energy depleted, the black-masked figure raised his hand, signaling his men.
The figures clad in black hurled their chain hooks in unison.
Swish! Thud! Thud! Thud!
“Ugh!”
The bone hooks latched onto Ong Gi-seung’s arms, legs, and neck, pulling him taut.
He gritted his teeth, trying to resist, but already exhausted from the earlier struggle, he was helpless against their force.
As his limbs were stretched wide, the masked man raised a hand, signaling to the others.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, dark shadows rose from sixteen directions.
They moved swiftly, using the tips of their blades to carve cryptic symbols into the ground.
Once the eerie pattern was complete, the eight figures restraining Ong Gi-seung and the sixteen others began to chant something under their breath.
The ritual had begun.
“Argh!”
Bound and immobilized, Ong Gi-seung’s veins bulged, his entire body flushing red with strain.
Watching intently, Gu Gang-ryong glanced at the masked man and asked, “How long will this take?”
“About half an hour.”
“And what happens if the ritual succeeds?”
The masked man chuckled. “Worried about your brother now, are you?”
“Watch your mouth, or you’ll regret it,” Gu Gang-ryong growled softly.
Unfazed, the masked man continued to gaze at Ong Gi-seung. “He’ll be as good as dead, even if he lives. His soul will be sealed, leaving him like a mindless puppet. Once he’s served his purpose, we’ll dispose of him.”
Gu Gang-ryong turned to look at Ong Gi-seung, his thoughts simmering.
“Blame yourself,” he thought. “This was your fate the moment you killed our father.”