Reincarnated Sword Ghost

Main Headquarters

A violent cloud of dust rose in the wake of the lightness skill unleashed by Baek Il-gang and Jo Gwang.

The guys didn't even react properly, perhaps because they hadn't thought their enemies would charge at them first.

By the time their eyes widened, two of their necks were already severed.

"You crazy bastards!"

Maybe they thought that this spot was near their own main headquarters.

Despite being unable to even catch the opponent's moves, they drew their swords and charged at Baek Il-gang and Jo Gwang.

Normally, any martial artist would have run away without looking back—especially ratty bandits like them.

"Kill them!"

It seemed they had their reasons. There was genuine ki loaded in the joints as they moved.

It was clear they weren't just swaggering around with barely enough internal energy to form a dantian the size of a grain.

Clang!

But, naturally, they were blocked effortlessly.

Baek Il-gang and Jo Gwang countered their swords without so much as a change in their expressions, then immediately retaliated, plunging their blades into the torsos of two more foes.

"Keugh!"

It was laughable even to compare strengths; the gap in martial prowess was simply overwhelming.

These were, at best, the lackeys among their group.

Since they guarded only the mountain's edge, there was no way their skills would be any higher.

'There'll be stronger ones further up.'

Mount Gubong had a vast basin halfway up its slopes.

The Blood Cult had established their main headquarters there, or so the information stated.

Supposedly, it was on the scale of a large village at least.

As Baek Il-gang and Jo Gwang took down one more each, Jeong-un stepped lightly, pushing off the ground.

Saaak!

One guy, exploiting the death of his comrade as a distraction, targeted Baek Il-gang's head from behind.

Without even drawing his sword, Jeong-un simply punched, slamming his fist into the attacker's lower back.

Kwaak!

It was a simple fist strike—nothing worth discussing the subtleties of the fist-and-palm arts—yet it utterly shattered the man's lumbar vertebrae.

It was accomplished entirely with internal power packed into the punch.

Thud.

Without so much as a dying scream, the man collapsed.

Judging by the face pressed into the dirt, he probably died without ever realizing it.

"Kraak!"

Meanwhile, another man fell, a spurting line of blood following after.

Tang Yerin hurled a flying blade that skewered his neck like a flash of light and then returned to her hand; she flicked the blood off in midair as she retrieved it.

Calling it just a throwing blade technique hardly did her justice anymore.

"That was boring."

"Is this all they've got?"

Baek Il-gang and Jo Gwang each muttered, scanning the corpses for possible clues.

Jeong-un spoke up.

"More are coming."

At his words, his companions looked at Jeong-un with perplexed expressions.

They couldn't sense anything yet—not even Baek Il-gang, who was also at the two-stripes level.

"......!"

They gradually turned their gaze up the mountain.

Indeed, they could feel something in the distance.

"Hmph."

"So it's true."

None of the men they killed had seemed to send any signal back to the main headquarters before the fight.

That meant the cultists must have scheduled check-ins at certain intervals, and when no word came, those above caught on.

While Jeong-un quietly watched the approaching waves of ki, Baek Il-gang asked him,

"How much stronger have you become?"

"Pardon?"

Jeong-un answered blankly, surprised by the sudden question.

When he turned, he saw his companions giving him incredulous looks.

Baek Il-gang continued,

"How wide is your sense for you to notice those waves of ki that far away?"

"It's nothing special. They're rushing straight over, not even trying to hide."

"Nothing special?"

Baek Il-gang looked at Jeong-un in disbelief, then glanced up the mountain.

"......"

Jeong-un was right.

The cultists were coming down the mountain in a noisy display of lightness skill, and there were a good number of them as well.

They could even see the clouds of dust from afar.

But they themselves only noticed once the cultists became visible as blurry shapes to the naked eye.

It wasn't odd, of course; even at their level, people called them quite sensitive.

'I thought I was only just starting to catch up to him.'

Baek Il-gang muttered inwardly. He already knew Yu Jeong-un was a once-in-an-era prodigy.

They joined the Heavenly Martial Hall together and had done several missions side by side.

Not only did he ace the entrance exam, but he also became a two-stripes faster than anyone in the hall's history.

No martial artist is without competitive spirit, even if the rival is a companion.

Seeing such brilliance up close just made him want to compete harder—not just for pride, but to surpass his own limitations and swing his sword just one extra time.

But now that gap had widened again—and this time, it felt almost unbridgeable, even though Jeong-un was standing right there.

"Honestly... it makes me want to give up."

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

Baek Il-gang turned his head as he replied.

Though Jeong-un looked at him quizzically, he didn't press further, merely gripping his sword guard tighter and drawing his sword again.

'As if I'd give up.'

He had goals too, things he must accomplish.

Baek Il-gang steeled his resolve—he wasn't someone who would yield so easily.

Beside him, Tang Yerin asked Jeong-un,

"Are you planning to keep fighting as they come at us?"

"No need to wait for them here. We should just keep cutting our way up—into their main headquarters."

"Going all the way inside? Is there really a need for that?"

The last question came from Jo Gwang, seeming startled at the idea of entering the enemy's main headquarters.

Mission-wise, Jo Gwang wasn't wrong.

Their duties were merely to create a disturbance and scatter the enemy's forces.

Jeong-un nodded and spoke.

"The more attention we draw, the easier it will be for the corps leaders to move. We'll face tougher enemies the further we go. But once we take off their leader's head, we'll need to wipe out all the rest anyway. Better to cut them down while they're scattered."

Despite Jeong-un's explanation, Jo Gwang still looked uneasy.

The cult was said to number in the thousands, and the idea of penetrating their heart understandably worried him.

Jeong-un said,

"You don't need to worry too much. By now, the other warriors of the Heavenly Martial Hall should be thinking the same."

"The same?"

"This is an annihilation mission—those who defeat more enemies will gain more merit. There are plenty of them, but the skill of each isn't high. Since everyone's eager for merit, they'll push up the mountain as well and eventually we'll regroup. It should be safer than sitting idle here."

"Oh, that does make sense. As expected of Young Hero Yu's keen insight...!"

With that, Jo Gwang's face brightened completely. Baek Il-gang, watching the scene, smirked and said,

"If you're scared, why not fall back now? It'll be tough to look out for you during the chaos."

"Quit joking! If I make it through this mission, I'll be promoted to two-stripes for sure. And scared? What do you take me for?"

"Looks like your shoulders are shaking. Why not just bail before you get an unlucky stab?"

"Don't make me laugh!"

Jeong-un smiled quietly, turning his head. Despite appearances, Jo Gwang always rose to the occasion—he just needed a bit of motivation.

By now, the commotion stirred up by the enemy's approach was close enough to be clearly seen.

Jeong-un gazed at them steadily and spoke softly,

"Let's go."

Without waiting for his companions' reply, he immediately kicked off the ground.

Pa-at!

He dashed forward, tearing through the air, racing effortlessly between ancient trees.

The leisurely mountain breeze turned into a tempest, whipping past his ears.

He had gone up and down mountains with lightness skill many times before, and now he could move swiftly without needing to slow down.

Soon, the cultists came into view, making Jeong-un frown. They all wore coordinated red uniforms.

Unlike those who disguised their identities among civilians, these cultists wanted a sense of belonging within their main headquarters.

'Convenient.'

It was helpful; it made them easier to distinguish.

Even if he used that unique cold ki to sense them, being able to see them with the naked eye was more convenient.

And he wasn't the only one on this battlefield. Clear identification between ally and enemy was crucial.

Ta-ak.

Pushing off the ground, he launched himself upward with force.

Whoosh─

From his higher vantage, he could see throngs of cultists racing toward them between the ridges.

There were easily over a hundred coming this way alone.

'This is nowhere near the end.'

Jeong-un's ki sense was extremely broad now. With a little focus, he could easily grasp each and every movement.

The power of internal energy was astounding at this level of martial arts.

Not only was Mount Gubong rugged, but the terrain and elevation were substantial.

He could sense countless clashes of ki in the distance—battles of various scales had already broken out all over.

Surveying the battlefield, he landed back on the ground, then sprinted forward, drawing his vision inward.

He was almost upon the vanguard.

"Ugh?!"

One cultist shouted at the sudden appearance of Jeong-un.

His words were garbled by surprise. Jeong-un reached out and grabbed the cultist by the collar.

"Kerk!"

That alone knocked the man out cold, his internal structure completely scrambled as if struck by a heavy striking technique.

Jeong-un pressed onward, not slowing in the least—even carrying a grown man one-handed.

"That bastard's insane!"

"Grab him!"

Screams erupted nearby, mingled with the swish of drawn swords.

But none of them could even glimpse his afterimage. No blade touched Jeong-un's body.

He plunged into the very center of the cultists' ranks.

With one hand, he slammed the man he'd grabbed into a massive tree before him.

Kwa-jeok─!

The tree—thicker than several men lashed together—snapped and fell with a tremendous crash.

Still, Jeong-un did not let go. With the same hand that broke the tree, he swung forward, flinging the body ahead.

"Keheuk!"

"Uwaah!"

The corpse, already lifeless, crashed into the oncoming cultists.

A couple tripped trying to catch it and tumbled backward.

The formation degenerated into utter chaos.

Jeong-un still didn't slow.

His casting hand naturally slid to the hilt of his sword guard at his waist.

He drew.

Slash—!

That was the beginning; one strike decapitated a man.

With each step, two or three more heads went flying.

Not a single one blocked even a single slash.

Puhak!

He twisted his step inward, spinning as he planted his foot.

Channeling cultivated power, he swept the sword horizontally.

"You bastard!"

"Just rush him with your—!"

With Jeong-un at the center, his blade carved out a clean arc, leaving a gold line tracing its path.

Saaaak!

The air shrieked.

Yet it seemed as if he had snatched up all the cultists around him—their movements all froze in an instant, and then they were split up and down.

Puhwaaak!

Dozens of corpses were cleaved apart, dying instantly.

His blade work was fiercer than when he fought Dark Path thugs at Kaifeng.

Against those he had no reason to let live, this was how he fought.

He emptied his mind, setting aside hesitation—because you never knew what the ones you spared might do later.

The bodies piled up alongside collapsed trees, fully exposing the battlefield.

"Wh-what is that thing...?"

"C-call the High Priest. That's a monster way beyond reason...!"

Faint waves of bursting energy collided behind him.

His companions were catching up quickly. All eyes were on Jeong-un now, as he intended.

Taak.

Jeong-un stepped forward, gripping his sword guard firmly.

"Let's stick to what I'm good at."

He muttered to himself.