Chapter 98 : Chapter 98
Chapter 098. Three-Extreme Sword, Jeong Tae-san
Dam Jeok-san and Bukgung Wan left the Northern Branch half a day ago.
Originally, Dam Jeok-san had planned to remain in the north for a few more days.
It was not for any sentimental reason like saying goodbyes, but because he had quite literally beaten Bukgung Wan into pulp.
Judging by his condition, it seemed he would need at least several days of rest before he could even regain his senses.
And yet—
The man stood back up after barely half a day.
Aside from himself, Dam Jeok-san had never seen anyone recover from injuries that quickly.
When Dam Jeok-san pointed that out, Bukgung Wan replied casually:
—Muscles and bones are talent too. You and I were born with equal talent, so similar recovery times are only natural.
—Equal? You lost to me.
—Victory and defeat are ever-changing matters of war. Still, this time, my loss is undeniable. Especially that twin-sword technique at the end—it was truly outstanding. Come to think of it, if the rumor about you losing your dantian is true, then your talent is clearly a step above mine.
—…That part is true.
—It is the first time in my life I have felt inferior to someone in talent. But well… it seems talent was not the only thing I lost in.
Bukgung Wan knew better than anyone that a supreme technique like Red–White Extreme Smoke Slash could not be forged by “talent” alone.
There must have been desperate effort behind it.
And in that domain as well, Bukgung Wan had been defeated.
Arrogant as he was, he was not foolish enough to belittle the effort of someone who had crushed him.
Otherwise, he would never have become the Young Cult Leader of the Ming Cult.
—Still! Next time, I will win.
Bukgung Wan declared it almost like a proclamation.
—Do as you like. But if you’re done recovering, how about we head to that “corrupted land” you mentioned? I’m actually quite busy.
Receiving the Martial Sovereign Castle Lord’s guidance was no small matter—Dam Jeok-san was not wrong.
—At this level, it’s nothing.
Bukgung Wan said, casually rolling his arm.
***
After leaving a single message for the Northern Heaven Sword Venerable, Dam Jeok-san and Bukgung Wan departed the Northern Branch.
The Northern Branch of Martial Sovereign Castle lay far beyond the Central Plains, in lands that had once belonged to nomadic empires.
Bukgung Wan’s destination, however, lay at the boundary between the Central Plains and the north.
They continued heading south for half a day.
As they did, the demonic qi blanketing the world gradually thinned.
Before long, they arrived in a land where trees and grass grew and blue skies were visible—a place no longer fitting to be called a Demon Realm.
“From here on, we’ll have to search,” Bukgung Wan said, looking up at the sky.
Within a Demon Realm saturated with demonic qi, detection was meaningless—everywhere was tainted.
But once outside it, one could use sorcery to locate places where demonic qi had unnaturally condensed.
It was not easy, but it was possible—given enough time.
Bukgung Wan clasped his hands and began chanting an incantation.
It was like searching for a single black grain of sand in a vast desert.
Confusion constantly clouded his senses, but he did not stop.
Meanwhile, Dam Jeok-san stood with his arms crossed, one leg propped up, quietly watching him.
‘Large-scale detection… that’s a considerable amount of sorcerous power. If we fought again, it might not be so easy.’
Last time, he had seized the moment and launched a sudden ambush, forcing the battle into close-quarters combat.
That was why he had been able to suppress Bukgung Wan relatively easily.
The fact that Bukgung Wan had known nothing about Red–White Extreme Smoke Slash had also played a role.
If the man had kept his distance and focused solely on defense, Dam Jeok-san could not have guaranteed victory.
Still—
‘This is taking too long.’
More than one tea-time of time had already passed.
At this rate, Dam Jeok-san might as well find the place himself. He might not know sorcery, but he was well-versed in sensing demonic qi.
The thought was not unfounded.
Had he not tracked down Wi Cheon-rak’s hideout by chasing the fleeing Sword Demon himself?
Dam Jeok-san began sharpening his perception while Bukgung Wan continued chanting.
Spreading perception like a spiderweb would not work at such distances.
He had to rely on something more primal—just as he had when hunting the Sword Demon.
He slowly, deeply drew in a breath.
Air rich with natural qi—far purer than that of the Demon Realm—filled his lungs.
‘Much easier to distinguish than in the Demon Realm.’
Finding a specific bloodstain in a sea of blood was far harder than spotting it on a blank white page.
That logic applied to Dam Jeok-san as well.
He could not pinpoint the exact location yet—the corrupted land was still far away.
But the direction was clear.
“Southwest.”
Dam Jeok-san spoke without hesitation.
“…What?”
Bukgung Wan snapped his head toward him, glaring as though he had heard something absurd.
That he had lost to Dam Jeok-san was fact.
But sorcery was unquestionably his own domain.
If this was some cheap mockery, he was ready to cripple him again.
Sensing that hostility—
“Southwest.”
“On what basis?”
“Instinct.”
Dam Jeok-san replied plainly, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“What kind of nonsense—!”
Bukgung Wan was about to erupt, then abruptly stopped.
Because of the certainty in Dam Jeok-san’s eyes.
Cold and firm like eternal snow that would never melt.
It was almost unbelievable that such certainty could reside in those weary eyes.
“Instinct… Can you guarantee it? On the name of Sword Dragon?”
Bukgung Wan trusted his own intuition.
And so he chose to trust Dam Jeok-san’s “instinct” as well.
“Of course. On my name—and my sword.”
Dam Jeok-san answered, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
For a swordsman, staking one’s name and sword was never a light matter.
But since he was facing a sorcerer and invoking “instinct,” he offered exactly what Bukgung Wan demanded.
“Fine. I’ll trust that damned instinct of yours.”
Bukgung Wan said through clenched teeth.
In truth, the reason he followed Dam Jeok-san was simple.
Dam Jeok-san had defeated him.
Had Bukgung Wan been the victor at the Northern Branch, he would never have followed—no matter how cold and unshakable Dam Jeok-san’s gaze had been.
Such was the world of Murim.
A world that worshipped strength.
Strength was not merely raw power—it was the absolute measure by which a person was judged.
“When we draw closer, strange phenomena may appear. Not ordinary demonic beasts, but mutated entities.”
Mutated entities were beings bound to corrupted land.
They were demonic beasts, yet not fully so.
Buddha statues that wept blood.
Swordmasters endlessly repeating the same motions, tainted by demonic qi.
Unless the land fully transformed into a Demon Realm, such beings could never leave it.
“But within the corrupted land, they are extremely dangerous.”
“…I see.”
Sounds delicious.
Dam Jeok-san swallowed the thought.
Things steeped in such deep resentment usually possessed terrifying power.
Of course, the karmic burden he would bear would grow just as heavy.
But he had already come too far to worry about that.
Even Wi Cheon-rak’s power was merely being suppressed as a stopgap.
Leave it unattended, and disaster was inevitable.
To stop him, Dam Jeok-san himself had to grow stronger—solid enough to overwhelm even Wi Cheon-rak’s accumulated history.
***
For land far from a Demon Realm to become corrupted by demonic qi, a calamity of equal magnitude was required.
Such calamities were death.
Thus, corrupted lands were always born of tragedy.
Some tragedies were passed down as stories.
Others were buried forever beneath the soil, along with the tainted land itself.
Nameless Village was a remote settlement of roughly a hundred slash-and-burn farmers.
Too afraid even to name themselves, they called their home “Nameless.”
Even in an age overrun by demonic beasts, people feared taxes and exploitation more than death.
So such villages still dotted the outskirts of cities.
Nameless Village was attacked by demonic beasts one day, just like many others.
Their misfortune was that the beast was a monster capable of devouring even an Ultra-Peak master.
Their fortune was that an Ultra-Peak swordsman happened to be passing nearby.
A righteous swordsman of the orthodox path, who had reached the Ultra-Peak at forty—
Three-Extreme Sword, Jeong Tae-san.
In truth, Jeong Tae-san was far from a noble hero.
He was cunning, opportunistic, ruthless toward the weak, and unashamed of deception.
That such a man chose to defend Nameless Village was pure whim.
Perhaps he had played the role of a righteous hero too often, lecturing youths about protecting the innocent—until something finally snapped.
For such a trivial reason, Jeong Tae-san drew his sword against a foe stronger than himself.
But his act of chivalry was never known to the world.
The demonic beast’s roar summoned countless others lying in wait—
And they butchered Nameless Village, feasting upon flesh and blood.
Jeong Tae-san swung his sword with empty eyes.
For perhaps the first time in his life, he fought with genuine righteousness.
And yet this was his end.
He could not accept it.
Not the villagers’ deaths.
Not his own defeat.
So he swung his sword again.
Against a foe he should never have been able to defeat—yet driven mad, he eventually cut it down.
At the cost of an eye and an arm.
He rushed back to the village.
There were no survivors.
Only demonic beasts drunk on blood.
Half-mad, he swung his sword.
―――!
His signature technique, Three-Extreme Contracting Fang Sword, flashed.
When the bloodstorm settled—
No living being remained in Nameless Village.
Including Jeong Tae-san himself.
And yet, by sheer will, he refused death and continued swinging his sword.
Demonic qi from slain beasts.
Death qi from slaughtered humans.
Those foul emotions and energies corrupted the land.
The village swallowed his name—and the villagers’ bodies.
And in that forgotten land—
“Die!”
Jeong Tae-san continued swinging his sword.
Having forgotten even who he was.