CLS-Chapter 545

Chapter 545:

“What about them?”

“They’re currently in pursuit.”

“Haven’t caught them yet?”

“They’re as quick as mice.”

“I see.”

Mad Blood Demon quietly stroked his beard. His crimson-tinged whiskers fluttered in the dry wind blowing from Xinjiang.

“So it really is Wei Yan-ho.”

A subtle smile bloomed at the corners of Mad Blood Demon’s mouth.

Their gaze was always directed toward the Central Plains, and they couldn’t help but be sensitive to information about new powerhouses appearing in the Central Plains. Recently, the name that had reached Mad Blood Demon’s ears most frequently was Wei Yan-ho.

It wasn’t just hearing the name.

When they had rampaged from Mount Hua to overturn the martial world, it was Wei Yan-ho who had stood in their way, and it was Wei Yan-ho who had crossed swords with Mad Blood Demon and lived to tell the tale.

How shocked he had been when that proud Mad Blood Demon evaluated Wei Yan-ho as having sufficient martial prowess to match a Bishop-level expert.

‘What strange circumstances.’

Wei Yan-ho.

The Wei Family of Guangdong.

Of all families, it had to be the Wei Family of Guangdong. Perhaps the one who could become the greatest obstacle to their great undertaking was from the Wei Family of Guangdong, and had grown up like brothers with Wei San-ho—it could only be seen as Heaven’s jest.

‘How amusing it must be.’

Heaven had always been harsh to them.

From the beginning, they hadn’t wanted the world. They had merely wanted land where they could plant their feet and live. The radical evangelism of carrying scriptures and swords to grant death to non-believers was not what the Divine Cult pursued. All they had wanted was just a small patch of land where crops could grow.

But even that wasn’t granted.

Heaven had been far too harsh to them. Countless efforts to claim even a small piece of land in the Central Plains had been repeatedly frustrated by Heaven’s whims, and each time the Divine Cult had no choice but to shiver in the cold and tremble in the wind on barren land, waiting for the next opportunity.

But from now on, things would be different.

‘We no longer need your protection.’

There was no need to rely on vague, intangible things. They had already found their salvation.

The Divine Cult’s heaven did not exist above their heads. Their heaven was already breathing alongside them with feet planted on the ground. Even if not yet, it would soon be so.

“That’s what makes it all the more amusing.”

The fact that their lives were spared because of that very circumstance.

“Must we capture them alive?”

“Is it difficult?”

“It won’t be easy.”

“If it’s difficult, you may let them escape. But you must not kill them.”

“How…?”

Doubt flickered in his subordinate’s eyes. But he soon realized that even doubt was blasphemy and bowed his head deeply.

“Tsk.”

Mad Blood Demon clicked his tongue lightly.

It was blasphemy that would merit beheading without excuse, but he was different from other brutal Bishops. At least he understood that there was sufficient reason to harbor such doubts.

“You need not understand. You need not question. You merely need to follow.”

“Yes!”

“Do not doubt. It is Heaven’s will.”

“Yes!”

Mad Blood Demon smiled subtly as he watched his responding subordinate.

‘Heaven’s will indeed.’

Literally, truly Heaven’s will.

“Don’t worry about trivial matters. In the end, the conclusion they must face will be the same. If they don’t die now, they’ll merely die after experiencing hell. Heaven grants fair death to all.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“Pursue them.”

“Yes!”

As his subordinate left, Mad Blood Demon stroked his chin.

‘Foolish bastards.’

There were still those who couldn’t accept Heaven’s will. When even those who called themselves Bishops of the Divine Cult couldn’t see the world properly, how could it not be lamentable?

Mad Blood Demon shook his head and rose from his seat.

“Divine Beggar.”

His figure was vivid in his mind.

An age too advanced to be called young, yet not mature enough to be called fully seasoned. Mad Blood Demon and Divine Beggar had clashed over each other’s supremacy. That contest had yet to reach its conclusion.

“This time, there’s no place for you to intervene.”

However, the regrettable point was that they couldn’t settle their match.

A contest has meaning only when fought from equal positions. But now Mad Blood Demon possessed cards and objectives that Divine Beggar couldn’t even imagine.

He would never be able to see through his movements.

How could he imagine that the most dangerous, sinister, and yet greatest deed was unfolding in the very heart of the Central Plains?

“No one would know.”

No one at all.

***

“Look out!”

Peng Dao-ji’s blade cut through the air like a ray of light. Red blade energy in the shape of a tiger slashed through the waist of a Demonic Cult member approaching Jang-il.

Paaaaat!

Blood spurted from the severed waist. Jang-il, covered in the spray of blood, ran forward without looking back.

“Damn it!”

Curses burst from him.

This was truly insane.

They had barely escaped. Having barely shaken off those Demonic Cult bastards who charged like madmen, they had just barely thrown off their pursuit. But now they were turning around and breaking through the Demonic Cult’s core forces again.

‘I really can’t take this anymore!’

Living in the martial world, carrying a sword at one’s waist, was no different from living with the resolve to offer one’s life to others. The life of a martial artist was one where you never knew when or where a flying blade might sever your neck.

But even a seasoned veteran who had rolled around in the martial world—would they experience life-threatening crises as countless times as Jang-il was experiencing now?

Ever since getting involved with Wei Yan-ho, Jang-il truly seemed to be living with his life on the line.

‘This isn’t my specialty!’

If he hadn’t met Wei Yan-ho, by now Jang-il would be safely in the rear, compiling information flying in from here and there. Leading the countless beggars, numerous as the sands of the Yangtze River, was his role, but compiling information gathered from all directions and extracting important intelligence was also his role.

But after meeting Wei Yan-ho, Jang-il’s life had changed drastically. He had to throw himself desperately into martial studies he’d never felt the need for, and had to be repeatedly thrown into savage battlefields he thought he’d never experience.

‘That damned bastard.’

Wei Yan-ho was a walking disaster.

Those who left their names in the world usually brought storms with them. Wherever they went, they got entangled in incidents and resolved problems. But the reality of most of this was that it was the meddling of those called heroes that was the problem.

What others wouldn’t interfere with or wouldn’t make an issue of, they’d poke at, causing accidents and creating problems. All such problems and accidents gathered together to create a hero’s legacy.

But Wei Yan-ho?

‘That bastard is on a different level.’

Wei Yan-ho didn’t create problems. But problems spontaneously arose wherever he went. It was as if Heaven was forcibly making Wei Yan-ho walk the path of a hero.

Fine.

That’s all fine.

But why did he have to be dragged into this mess too?!

Jang-il had no intention of becoming a hero, nor did he have the ability to become one. No matter how much suffering he endured, the evaluation he could receive would be something like ‘Wei Yan-ho’s friend So-and-so’ at best. But did he have to walk this thorny path of hardship just to gain such a reputation?

No matter how he thought about it, this was a losing business.

‘Once I return to the Central Plains, I’ll never associate with that madman again.’

Deflecting a blade flying toward him with his staff, Jang-il shuddered.

There were too many madmen in the world.

Take the guy charging at him right now, for instance. He was running toward him with a ghoulish curved blade that looked sinister just by sight, cackling maniacally.

Just looking at his rolled-back eyes and the drool flowing from his mouth, the evaluation ‘Ah, this bastard has gone properly insane’ came naturally.

The truly unfortunate and regrettable thing was that the common knowledge that madmen tend to be stronger applied perfectly to these bastards.

Crrrack.

Just from blocking a flying blade, the sound of bones breaking came from his arm. It was so vivid that he almost turned his head to check if his arm was actually broken.

Fortunately, his arm was maintaining its straight line. Who knows, maybe it just looked that way and was already cracked all over inside.

“Amitabha!”

Kuuuung!

The one attacking Jang-il was sent flying by Mu San’s fist energy.

‘What kind of Amitabha is that, you frozen bastard!’

What made Jang-il sad was something else.

The fact that madmen didn’t exist only among the enemies. Ah, of course, he wasn’t talking about Wei Yan-ho. Wei Yan-ho was a certified, genuine madman. There was no need to explain again at this point that that bastard was insane.

The problem was that bastards other than Wei Yan-ho were also crazy.

Especially that monk.

Mu San was rampaging like a wounded wolf. No, the elegant expression ‘wounded wolf’ didn’t suit that bastard right now. He should be called a dog in heat.

“A! Mi! Ta! Bud! Dha!”

Chanting Buddha’s name while smashing people’s heads wasn’t something a person should do.

“That crazy monk!”

When he told him to stop chanting Buddha’s name while killing people, the response he got was, ‘I have to pray for their journey to paradise anyway, so wouldn’t it be efficient to do it together?’

Would such words come from a monk’s mouth? If Buddha had heard this, he would have immediately slapped him twice with those thick, large hands without asking any questions.

Mu San was rampaging in a form closer to a demon than a Buddhist, closer to an Asura than a Buddha. His yellow Shaolin robes were already dyed red, to the point where they should be called red robes, or blood robes.

How eerie was the blood flowing down his shaved head marked with precepts.

“Kahahahahat! You demon bastards! This Arhat will send you all to paradise today!”

Who’s the demon here?

Who’s the demon here?!

Mu San, boasting a large frame befitting a Shaolin monk, swept through the demon cultists in an instant with his Consecutive Nine Strikes technique and Yellow Dragon Horn. Those hit by his legs all flew away without even being able to scream.

“Kahahahahaha!”

“Madman.”

Having made a very appropriate and justified evaluation, Jang-il glanced back.

“Oh my!”

Seeing Peng Dao-ji’s gleaming eyes, Jang-il flinched. Peng Dao-ji’s eyes were filled with killing intent. Compared to those eyes, the demon cultists’ eyes would look like the innocent eyes of a five-year-old child.

“Dieeeee!”

Intense blade energy shot out in all directions. Watching Peng Dao-ji grin while sending people’s limbs flying, Jang-il wondered if this bastard was really the same timid Peng Dao-ji he had known.

No matter how much an environment changes a person, wasn’t this practically a change in nature?

“Ugh.”

Jang-il shook his head vigorously.

Just a few months.

Really just a few months.

In just a few months of associating with Wei Yan-ho, Mu San, who was considered the next abbot of Shaolin, had become a Blood Arhat, and the timid and kind Peng Dao-ji was becoming a pitiless Blade Demon.

‘Am I, am I still normal?’

Just as doubts about his own identity were flooding in, an ear-splitting shout came from behind.

“Let’s go! Let’s go! Run! Let’s go!”

That bastard isn’t quite right in the head either.

Hearing the shouting voice of the Zhuge Family member, Jang-il gritted his teeth.

Damn it, what did it matter if their personalities changed a bit?

What was important wasn’t that. What was important was running right now.

To the place where this entire war would blaze.

To the Central Plains.

“Run, beggar! Run!”

“…”

It seemed like he hadn’t changed at all.

He had been a beggar before, and would probably be a beggar in the future too.

Damn, what a life.