The Terminally Ill Young Master of the Baek Clan

If one were to name the most mystical mountain in the Central Plains, it would be Mount Kunlun, ranking first even over the Five Great Peaks.

The great yokai known as the Heavenly Thunder White-Tail Fox resided there, and despite belonging to the Nine Sects One Gang, the Kunlun Sect, known for its peculiar ways, also made its home there.

However, the part of Mount Kunlun occupied by the Kunlun Sect was not all there was to the mountain.

The Kunlun Mountain Range sprawled widely across the northwestern region of the Central Plains.

From the Qinghai region to the Xinjiang basin.

Naturally, the front lines established by the Orthodox-Unorthodox Alliance did not span the entire Kunlun Mountain Range.

The Kunlun Sect in Qinghai was located at a key passage one must cross to traverse the range.

The Orthodox-Unorthodox Alliance had set up a defensive line there with the Kunlun Sect’s martial artists.

Though not all forces were concentrated there, it was by no means a weak barrier.

More than ten top-tier masters were stationed there, and even more peak-level experts. Due to the narrow and rugged terrain, even the martial forces of the Demon Cult would find it hard to break through.

That’s what everyone believed.

But now…

Crackle–tak.

Perhaps it was because the weather was cold and dry.

A rare mountain fire had broken out in Mount Kunlun.

The burning branches crackled noisily.

It was a very rare occurrence in this place.

However, this wildfire was far too strange.

No matter which direction one looked—north, south, east, or west—there wasn’t a single spot untouched by flames.

Wildfires typically climbed from the bottom up, yet this fire demon flickered with an almost willful orange tongue, trying to consume everything.

And at the center of it all was the ruined Kunlun Sect.

It too had been entirely scorched, and the ancient plaque that had stood for generations lay broken and scattered on the ground.

Corpses were strewn across the area.

The blood spilled from them flowed into streams and pooled together.

The blood, scorched and hardened by fire, released a foul stench.

If one were to put the acrid, choking scent into words, it could only be called the “stench of massacre.”

The air was thick with that stench.

Corpses of the Orthodox-Unorthodox Alliance martial artists lay everywhere.

A similar, or even greater, number of Demon Cult martial artists were also dead.

Yet it was clear who had claimed victory.

Surviving members of the Demon Cult were still pillaging the ruins of the Kunlun Sect.

Only one Kunlun Sect martial artist had survived until the end.

The sect leader, Six-Bean Hermit.

The Six-Bean Hermit’s appearance hardly resembled that of a highly skilled martial artist.

He was short and thin, but his head was unusually large.

His bulging, marble-like eyes and long catfish whiskers made him appear even more unsightly.

Many young disciples had once snorted with laughter upon seeing the sect leader for the first time.

But now, no one could laugh at the sight of Six-Bean Hermit.

“Huff, huff.”

The left side of his face looked as if a tiger had clawed it off.

The left side of his upper body was in a similar state.

His entire left arm had been torn off from the shoulder and was completely gone.

He had stopped the bleeding with an internal energy technique pushed to its limit, but death was clearly imminent.

“M-monster…”

That wound had been caused by a palm technique known as Heaven-Shrouding Dark Cloud Palm, a secret art passed down to a single successor.

The one who left Six-Bean Hermit in this critical condition—

Heuk-am stood across from him.

The massive man in black clothing was shouted at by the far more disheveled Six-Bean Hermit.

“You vicious… c-cowardly bastard! Cough!”

His voice was thick with rage and resentment.

Just what kind of atrocities had the Demon Cult and the Evil Cult committed here to provoke such fury?

“You, you people… no, you don’t even deserve to call yourselves martial artists—or humans!”

Heuk-am did not react with anger or resistance to the accusation.

He simply lowered his head slightly in a calm manner.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

It was a clear apology.

Anyone who knew Heuk-am would have been shocked to see him bow his head.

But to Six-Bean Hermit, it must have felt like mockery.

“You vile spawn…!”

And then he charged.

It was a surprising move.

Though not an actual Qi Control Sword Technique, the force from his hand shot forth like an arrow.

It was even surrounded by Aura Qi, making it an ultimate form of flying sword technique.

But Six-Bean Hermit’s final outburst, with all his remaining strength, failed to land.

Heuk-am had anticipated this.

Still, he genuinely felt sorry for Six-Bean Hermit.

So he didn’t dodge the flying sword—he faced it head-on with honor.

His Heaven-Shrouding Dark Cloud Palm collided head-on with the flying sword, like a master striking blow for blow.

KWAANG!

A bare hand clashed with a sword wreathed in Aura Qi, releasing a thunderous roar like an explosion.

Six-Bean Hermit’s sword shattered into fragments and flew away.

And Six-Bean Hermit himself, standing behind it, had his entire upper body blown away by the force of the palm strike.

Thud.

His now torso-less legs dropped to their knees, then crumpled to the ground.

Heuk-am silently stared at the corpse, then looked down at his own palm.

There was a wound at the center of his palm.

Six-Bean Hermit’s final desperate strike had exceeded expectations.

Though he hadn’t reached the Absolute Realm, the fact that he pierced through the Aura Qi of Heaven-Shrouding Dark Cloud Palm was astonishing.

“As expected, one only shows their true worth when pushed to the brink.”

It was a satisfying outcome.

The wound was only the size of a fingernail, but the palm force had seeped in through that gap, it was no minor injury.

Still, Heuk-am was someone who sought martial perfection more than the Evil Cult’s grand plan.

Since joining the Demon Cult’s invasion of the Central Plains, it was the first wound he had received, and he was content with it.

At that moment, a woman’s voice, far too graceful for the ruinous scene, echoed softly.

“What a pointless display.”

It was a voice as beautiful as birdsong.

It carried a gentle resonance, yet held a seductive force that could stir the heart, almost like charming.

But Heuk-am furrowed his brows, clearly displeased.

How many in the world could speak to Heuk-am in such a tone?

“Gwi-ryeong.”

Her name was Gwi-ryeong.

This woman, who moved through the Central Plains as a shadowy mastermind had an appearance that seemed quite ordinary at first glance.

She wore white clothing, standing in stark contrast to Heuk-am.

Unlike Mang-hon, she adorned no jewelry or ornaments of any kind.

No trace of makeup, just translucent skin and naturally red lips.

Her features were beautiful, the kind that evoked the word “graceful.”

Yet this seemingly ordinary woman clearly possessed something extraordinary.

Even here, where blood flowed in streams and ashes danced in the air, her white clothing remained dazzlingly clean.

It was by her cruel hand that hundreds had died here, and it was her scheme that set Mount Kunlun ablaze.

But on the surface, she was nothing more than a lovely woman.

“You wasted time on Six-Bean Hermit.”

“Disgusting. So you change your tone just because you’ve reincarnated as a woman?”

They were both reincarnators.

They had known each other for thousands of years.

Their relationship was never particularly amicable.

Even when Heuk-am growled, Gwi-ryeong didn’t bat an eye.

She brushed back her jet-black hair and spoke, “Sorry, but I was born a woman the first time. I just spent more time living as a man.”

The tone and gestures with which Gwi-ryeong spoke had the elegance of a single blooming lily.

Heuk-am, irritated, stomped the ground once.

A thunderous noise erupted as dirt exploded into the air, aiming to soil Gwi-ryeong.

But Heuk-am’s attempt to dirty her robes ended in failure.

Gwi-ryeong had already moved to Heuk-am’s side.

“Because of you, the advance was delayed. We could’ve captured all of the Orthodox Alliance’s young successors at once.”

“With that kind of petty method? Summoning the flames of karmic retribution from hell?”

“Because it’s efficient.”

“I cannot condone it.”

The defenses of the Kunlun Sect and the Orthodox-Unorthodox Alliance had collapsed far too easily.

It was due to Gwi-ryeong and Heuk-am intervening at the same time.

However, had things gone according to Gwi-ryeong’s original plan, nearly all of the retreating Orthodox Alliance martial artists would have been slaughtered.

Heuk-am did not pursue them as they fled.

Instead, he personally faced the last remaining Six-Bean Hermit, out of a sense of resolve.

“He was someone worthy of crossing blades with.”

“Do you not understand the weight of the situation?”

“That’s for me to decide.”

“So arrogant, just like always. You’re arrogant, and Mang-hon was vulgar.”

For the first time, annoyance flickered across Gwi-ryeong’s face.

“The Cult Leader has given the order. You’re to step back and return to your original post. I’ll take care of the Central Plains.”

“…Hmph.”

Heuk-am scoffed.

Even if he didn’t hold the Cult Leader’s authority in high regard, he would still follow orders.

Heuk-am was the sword of the Evil Cult. And a sword, when mishandled, could wound its wielder.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m more interested in that adversary,” Heuk-am murmured to himself.

Not long ago, Mang-hon was killed by the adversary.

It was shocking. It was extremely rare for the Evil Cult’s Cardinal to be forcibly killed by another.

Heuk-am twisted his lips and glared at Gwi-ryeong.

“That adversary… turns out he’s a descendant of the Immortal Divine Sword who killed you long ago.”

“…Just to be clear.” Gwi-ryeong bared her perfectly white teeth. “Don’t make the first move.”

“Hoho, I have no intention of doing so. One must wait for the fruit to ripen.”

The adversary was not someone to be handled lightly.

He was bound by fate to the Evil Cult.

“Unless you want to end up like Mang-hon.”

“Haha!”

Heuk-am laughed heartily, as if thoroughly satisfied.

The adversary might be the enemy of the Evil Cult, but he was also the one who had given that detestable Mang-hon a taste of defeat, more than Gwi-ryeong ever had.

Despite gaining a new body, Mang-hon was groaning in seclusion.

It was said that his soul had been wounded, no doubt the grudge ran deep.

“To think he cut through soul and spirit with a sword… How thrilling.”

Heuk-am felt his heart race.

It was as exciting as when he had once faced the Sword Emperor.

Even more so now, since Baek Yi-gang was said to have been trained by that very Sword Emperor…

Gwi-ryeong glanced sideways at Heuk-am with an anxious look in her eyes.

Even after hearing that the Kunlun Sect had fallen, Yi-gang’s party could not immediately leave Potala Palace.

‘Apparently, a secondary defensive line is being formed in Qinghai Province. So it’s not like we’re completely out of time.’ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲·𝗻𝗲𝘁

‘Didn’t they tell us to join them quickly?’

‘Yeah, they did. But it’s not like our presence alone would drastically turn the tide of the war. Isn’t it better to finish what we need to do here first?’

Obedience to orders from above was the basic principle of any organization.

However, Dam Hyun was someone who valued his own judgment even more.

‘…Come to think of it, you’re right.’

And in truth, Yi-gang was the same.

In his mind, establishing communication with the inside of the Heavenly Demon Plaque was more important.

Even the Divine Monk respected Yi-gang’s judgment in this.

Grand Library Master Yu Jeong-shin and the Divine Monk had both tried to study the Heavenly Demon Plaque, but they couldn’t figure out a way to communicate with Zhang Sanfeng, who resided within it.

The clue to doing so came from none other than this Potala Palace.

Among the ancient rituals of the Esoteric Buddhism of Tianzhu, there was one that allowed communication with spirits residing in objects.

Of course, it wasn’t easy.

It was said to be a difficult ritual requiring the combined efforts of several powerful lama monks, including the Dalai Lama.

But the Dalai Lama and Panchen Lama gladly agreed to the request.

“You benefactors are no different than our patrons. We’d like to repay that kindness, even if just a little, with something like this.”

The large-scale ritual was swiftly prepared.

One hundred lama monks each took a position, forming a formation like a mandala.

At its center stood Yi-gang, Dam Hyun, and the Divine Monk.

Atop a temporarily constructed altar rested the Heavenly Demon Plaque.

Yi-gang placed his hand on the Heavenly Demon Plaque.

He was the one who would attempt the communication.

Moments later, Dam Hyun cried out in excitement.

“I-it’s working!”

The Heavenly Demon Plaque began to tremble intensely.

And then, in Yi-gang’s ear, a voice rang out.

「Die already! You dog-bastard!」

It was unmistakably the voice of the esteemed Taoist master, Zhang Sanfeng.