The Poison King
A long silence was finally broken by a hushed whisper.
“Is he dead? Really dead?”
No one answered. But an answer wasn’t necessary. The man sprawled awkwardly on the ground, utterly still, told the story without words.
Despite the obviousness of the situation, the question of whether he was truly dead hung in the air. No one present could comprehend what had just unfolded before their eyes.
A single thought echoed in everyone’s mind.
’…Is this even possible?’
The young head of the Tang family, known as the Poison King, had done only one thing in front of everyone. He had pointed at the approaching enemy with his index finger.
Even if you considered his words, there was nothing extraordinary.
Stop. And die. When the Poison King spoke, the man died as if by magic. Not just any fighter, but a supreme martial artist. ’…An index finger?’
The thought seemed absurd, yet it flitted through the minds of the martial artists, only to vanish again. Every single one of them found it unrealistic. But given the surreal nature of the situation, their speculations were bound to be equally fantastical.
As they pondered, their eyes remained fixed on the unblemished corpse.
A pristine body was more chilling than one bloodied or mutilated. The fear stemming from the inexplicable far surpassed the visceral repulsion of wounds and blood.
And the mystery of the dead man’s body was but a small part of the enigma. The true embodiment of the unfathomable was the Poison King himself.
The man who first mentioned the Poison King cried out in a voice tinged with desperation.
“I told you, didn’t I? If you meet the Poison King, you’ll die without even knowing how… I warned you!”
His voice was laced with unmistakable fear. After shouting, he hesitated, then suddenly turned and ran. It was clear he wasn’t chasing the retreating orthodox martial artists. He was fleeing.
In the battlefield where life and death hung in the balance, desertion was a grave offense. If caught by other demonic sect warriors and brought before the leader, he would face severe punishment. But his fear of the Poison King far outweighed any fear of future retribution.
One of the demonic sect warriors muttered as he looked at the Tang family member.
“Sorcery…”
The Poison King, who had been standing silently, watched the speaker with cold, emotionless eyes, like a predator eyeing its prey.
The one who had mentioned sorcery quickly corrected himself.
“No, it’s an incredible martial art…”
The Poison King turned his gaze away, graciously forgiving the slip of the tongue.
He still held his chin slightly raised, surveying everyone. Without a hint of fear, he took a step toward the thirty or so demonic sect warriors. As if on cue, they all stepped back in unison, avoiding him.
After a few steps of advancing and retreating, the people formed a circle around the Poison King, as if performing a ritual.
Finally, the Poison King spoke.
“Is there anyone who dares to challenge me?” ”···.”
No one stepped forward. If the Poison King could kill one person so effortlessly, they might have tried to overwhelm him with numbers.
But the rumors that had spread among the demonic sect warriors were the problem. It was said that the Poison King had killed dozens at once in Sichuan.
He hadn’t harmed a single orthodox martial artist, choosing only demonic sect warriors amidst the chaos. Killing dozens with a single gesture might not be difficult for the Poison King.
They all kept their mouths shut, avoiding his gaze. A heavy silence descended.
After a moment, the Poison King finally turned to leave.
“Get lost, cowards.”
The sect leader asked, “What’s going on?”
Zuo Huafeng, covering his mouth to prevent others from hearing, whispered something to the leader. Listening quietly, the leader lowered his sword and spoke to Hua Yanshen.
“It seems we can’t push this any further. Let’s end it here for today.”
Hua Yanshen shouted in frustration.
“Are you running away?”
But there was a strange lack of force in his voice. What concerned Hua Yanshen most wasn’t the outcome of the battle or the future of the orthodox and demonic martial worlds, but the condition of Sam Anbul. The leader was well aware of this.
“Do you really want to see this through to the end?” ”…”
Hua Yanshen glared at the leader with eyes full of anger. His fiery temperament and concern for Sam Anbul were in a precarious balance.
Tang Mujin discreetly sent a message to Hua Yanshen.
Tang Mujin also believed it was best to end the fight here. There were too many severely injured, and it didn’t seem possible to kill the leader right now.
Of course, Tang Mujin had confidence in the power of the Celestial Tiger God. If he pushed himself, he might be able to create one more.
But creating a miracle wouldn’t solve the problem. Charging at the leader with an exhausted body would surely lead to disaster.
Tang Mujin believed Hua Yanshen would eventually retreat. The one he was more worried about was Blood Rain Guest, Jang Il-nam. It seemed unlikely that he would back down easily.
Yet, unexpectedly, Blood Rain Guest lowered his sword without resistance.
He showed no intention of forcing a confrontation. Rushing could ruin his chance for revenge. Moreover, Blood Rain Guest wasn’t so foolish or ruthless as to sacrifice many lives for personal vengeance. Too many lives were at risk here, including those of people he was close to.
“Spit.”
With a slightly disgruntled expression, Blood Rain Guest spat out something he had been chewing. Tang Mujin checked what Blood Rain Guest had spat out. To his surprise, it was a white bone, resembling a fingernail.
It was a human finger.
‘Could it be…’
Tang Mujin’s gaze shifted to Daehobum’s hand. His bloodied left hand was missing the ring and little fingers. Tang Mujin finally understood why Daehobum feared Blood Rain Guest.
Blood Rain Guest, brushing back his blood-soaked hair, gestured with his sword toward Daehobum.
“Don’t even think about running. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth… Pray you can hide by the leader’s side and survive.” ”…”
However, as time passed, a strange exhilaration began to fill Tang Mujin’s heart. He had realized something very important.
“Namgung Myung.” “What?” “Has anyone ever called you the Sword King?”
Namgung Myung shook his head with a bitter expression.
”…Not yet.”
Namgung Myung was the first to surpass the pinnacle, the first to reach the supreme state. But now, Tang Mujin had claimed his first victory over Namgung Myung. Hadn’t he earned the title of king first?
Tang Mujin raised his chin again. And with the expression Namgung Myung had shown him countless times, he looked down at him and said,
“Now… don’t challenge me.”