Chapter 272
"The world has gone to hell."
It was a rather exaggerated expression, but not entirely wrong.
Half of the Orthodox Sects had been wiped out. The imperial army, only realizing the situation too late, was annihilated along with the capital. The alliance between the Orthodox and Unorthodox factions, which they had formed with such difficulty, continued to suffer one defeat after another.
Countless lives were lost, and even civilians with no connection to the fighting were fleeing in terror, scattering in all directions.
Naturally, food, weapons, and all kinds of supplies became scarce. Even gold, which had never once lost its value in the history of the Central Plains, was gradually losing its shine.
It was only natural. In times like this, a handful of rice or a sturdy sword was more desperately needed.
A time when everyone could only think of their own survival. The very tail end of such an age.
The problem wasn’t only the Demonic Cult.
“The Outer Murim is stirring up trouble again, aren’t they?”
“Even now, when they’ve come deep into the Central Plains and are rampaging, we still call them the Outer Murim?” “We’ve always called them that, so what can we do?”
Tang Sowol shrugged. Her hair was pure white, and she kept her bangs long to cover half her face.
Yet even so, her beauty couldn’t be hidden. The fact that I momentarily forgot to breathe was likely due to being poisoned—by her.
“Well, whether they’re Outer Murim or Central Plains Murim, they’re all going to get smashed by the Heavenly Demon in the end anyway.”
“I suppose so. I heard that recently, the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace tried to expand into Hunan Province but was severely beaten down by the Heavenly Demon and had to hole up again.”
“Hmph. So they’re content with just Guizhou Province? How naïve. I doubt the fanatical members of the Demonic Cult would spare them just because they're from the Outer Murim.”
“They’re probably trying to negotiate with the Demonic Cult. Whether it’ll work or not... Well, it has nothing to do with us either way.”
“True. Whether it’s Guizhou or Yunnan, it’s all too far away now.”
The Orthodox–Unorthodox Alliance was steadily losing ground after each defeat.
At this rate, within a month or two, they’d have to retreat all the way to Hebei Province. And by then, there’d be nowhere left to retreat to.
And in times like this—no, because it was times like this—the once-silent Outer Murim began to go berserk.
To seize even a little more of the Central Plains, and to lend a hand in a way that wouldn’t offend the Heavenly Demon, the undisputed strongest being of the age.
As just mentioned, the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace had secured its power all the way from Yunnan to Guizhou Province, and the Thousand Poison Gate had stirred up chaos by penetrating even deeper into the Central Plains. Only after the Poison Demon was taken down by Tang Sowol did they retreat.
The Ice Palace of the Northern Sea had remained quiet for some reason... but the Potala Palace had also seized the opportunity and was steadily devouring the Central Plains—though in a rather peculiar way.
“I heard the Blood Buddha has appeared.”
“Already? It hasn’t been that long since he was killed in the last battle, has it?”
“Yeah. Someone must’ve shaken that damned Demon Bell somewhere.”
Tang Sowol’s tone was unusually rough—but I could understand how she felt.
Fighting an enemy that resurrects endlessly must be maddening, even for a Flowering Stage warrior.
All the more so in a bleak situation like this, where each time you return, familiar faces have vanished one by one.
“How anyone could see that grotesque thing and call it ‘reincarnation’...”
“Well, if he likes reincarnation so much, we’ll just have to kill him as quickly as possible so he can do it again.”
“Hearing that from none other than the Poison Dance Empress is terrifying.”
“Hehe. Don’t worry. My poison won’t be aimed at you, Blood Wolf.”
Tang Sowol lifted her chin smugly. Her confident gesture made me smile, but unfortunately, the moment didn’t last.
“If the Blood Buddha has reappeared, who’s going to deal with him this time?”
“It won’t be me, so rest easy. Most likely... it’s the Azure Heaven Sword Lord’s turn.”
“I see.”
“Even if it were my turn, don’t worry too much.”
“Hm?”
“Even if the Blood Buddha tries to break into my mind using dark sorcery, how could he take over my body when it’s already filled with something else?”
“Vengeance, is it? I won’t tell you to give it up, but be careful not to be consumed by it.”
“That’s not the only reason...”
“In this twisted world, I don’t think I could go on living without you.”
“Hmm. That deserves a passing grade.”
Tang Sowol nodded with a strangely satisfied expression.
Together, we blankly stared out at the street.
I saw warrior monks walking quickly with their heads lowered, and people throwing stones or hurling curses at them.
“They’ve done nothing wrong... yet people go this far.”
“Everyone knows. But when temporary relief through hurting others becomes the only entertainment left...”
Tang Sowol spoke calmly.
In Buddhism, there are many kinds of rituals. Naturally, many tools are used for them.
Among them is something called Demon Bell.
It’s not a bell struck with a hammer, but one that’s shaken in the hand, hence the name Demon Bell, and when used with a vajra, it’s also called a Diamond Bell.
But its original meaning had long since been distorted.
In today’s world, when one says Demon Bell, they almost always mean Demon Bell— a demonic bell.
A bell of enchantment, just as the name implies.
Its sound makes the listener feel peaceful, washing away all worldly thoughts... but before long, one becomes obsessed with the sound.
They begin craving it all day long. And anyone who interferes with that—be it parent or child—is seen as the enemy.
Once someone reaches that point, it’s already too late.
Just like an opium addict, listening to the bell becomes their sole purpose in life. Eventually, they lose all reason.
And when that demonic energy from the bell seeps into the very marrow of the bones, the ancient ghost sealed within it awakens—
The Blood Buddha.
He was once the master of the Potala Palace, the one responsible for driving them into the depths of Esoteric Buddhism. A long-dead spirit who possesses the bodies of those ensnared by the bell.
Just before the end of his natural life, he sealed himself inside the bell using a grand ritual imbued with all the truths of Esoteric Buddhism.
By deceiving and eventually possessing others’ bodies, he extended his life again and again.
To me, he’s nothing but a parasite... but he called it reincarnation, spoke proudly of it, and whenever he appeared, the Potala Palace would swarm to him like bees, treating him as their Supreme Grandmaster.
Right. Up to that point, it would just be distasteful—but not a problem.
There were lunatics everywhere now that the world had fallen apart.
The real problem was that whenever the Blood Buddha revived, he quickly regained strength on par with the Flowering Stage—or close to it.
And then he’d use that power to claim he was creating a Pure Land on Earth, slaughtering everyone who wasn’t a Buddhist.
For reference, his definition of a Buddhist was someone who followed the teachings of the Potala Palace. He even called Shaolin monks mere demons pretending to be monks.
No matter how many times the Blood Buddha was slain, he would just come back—an endless war of attrition.
Of course, if the bell were destroyed, his twisted reincarnation would end—but no one knew where it was.
Once, we were lucky enough to capture an elder from the Potala Palace and interrogate him.
According to him, only the Blood Buddha knows the bell’s location. Even the current Grandmaster doesn’t know.
At this point, I was curious why the Blood Buddha had remained dormant for so long... but I had a pretty good guess.
The bell had either been sealed away somewhere, left unused because no one knew its purpose, or stored like a sacred relic—never shaken, since it had once belonged to him.
Then the Demonic Cult invaded, throwing the world into chaos, and in that confusion, the bell found its way back into the world.
Originally, such wicked power would’ve been vulnerable to Buddhist martial arts—Shaolin or Mount Emei could have dealt with it quickly.
But no. Despite having deviated from the true path, the Potala Palace was still a branch of Buddhism. The techniques of Esoteric Buddhism, which gave rise to the Blood Buddha, were twisted interpretations of Buddha’s teachings.
Because of that, the bell—and the Blood Buddha—could not be suppressed by orthodox Buddhist sects.
In fact, they seemed even more vulnerable to the bell’s temptation.
So as the Blood Buddha rampaged and his notoriety spread, the prestige of the Buddhist sects plummeted.
It was a time when unity was desperately needed, yet they bickered and faltered from within.
Still, I could understand. Most of the Buddhist elders had been killed by the Heavenly Demon, and those who survived were half-mad with vengeance—but not mad enough to act, still paralyzed by fear.
So their pent-up frustration was vented on the most convenient targets.
“Tch. I really don’t like this. It’s bad enough that a dog’s grown a tail, but now it’s barking at the wrong person.”
“Are you going to step in?”
“Even if you try to stop me, it’s too late. My mind is made up.”
“My, these days it feels like people are dropping dead left and right, yet you're the only one who dares speak that way to me, a Flowering Stage master.”
“Got a problem with it?”
“I’ve always liked people who have a bite to them. That temperament—it’s just like poison, isn’t it?”
A compliment—one I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased about or not. Tang Sowol didn’t care, stepping beside me and urging me on.
“What are you standing there for? Let’s go.”
“Apologies. I was momentarily captivated by your beauty. If only I could see the other half of your face too.”
“Ugh...”
Tang Sowol flinched, subtly adjusting her hair to hide even more of her face.
But soon, seeing my expression, the corners of her lips lifted slightly.
“You’re such a tease.”
“Didn’t you say you liked that kind of man?”
“Correct answer. Good job.”
Her voice was brusque, but warm and clear. She began walking forward, and I naturally matched her pace.
The disturbance settled quickly after a few swings of the sword. With Tang Sowol stepping in as well, things should be peaceful for a while.
Or so I thought.
But that fleeting calm didn’t last.
Because the Azure Heaven Sword Lord—Namgung Jong—who had gone to defeat the Blood Buddha, returned as the Blood Buddha.
The reason was simple. The Potala Palace had aligned with the Demonic Cult.
And through that alliance—they had gained the Heavenly Demon’s support.
Namgung Jong.
When I saw him again, his entire body was dyed blood-red, as if drenched in gore.
And then—the Diamond Arhat proudly took out a small bell.
***
As the bell shook, a strange aura flowed through its clear chime.
The moment my forcibly stilled mind recognized the sensation, I understood everything.
Why the pre-regression Diamond Arhat had suddenly gone mad.
Why the Blood Buddha and the bell had never appeared until the Murim Alliance was shattered by the Demonic Cult’s invasion.
Demon Bell
I fixed my eyes on the small bell in the Diamond Arhat’s hand—and instantly drew my sword.
Because I drew it so abruptly, some of my internal energy leaked out, causing a fierce gust of wind.
A chaotic wind tore through the room. A streak of sword light shot out from the center.
Even for someone like the Diamond Arhat, who stood at the peak of Sub-Perfection, it should’ve been impossible to react at this distance.
If I cut down the bell now, I could prevent countless future tragedies. I could cripple the momentum of the Potala Palace.
But—
Clang!
Though hastily struck, the sword energy wasn’t shallow—it was clearly defined.
And yet—it was blocked.
The Diamond Arhat, who shouldn’t have been able to react, had reacted.
He covered the bell with his hand, blocking my sword with the back of his own.
His hand, now soaked red as if bathed in blood, trembled—and his lips curled into a grin.
“So, I’ve been found out?”
The situation had taken a turn for the worse.