“It’s not easy.”

“Who was the one saying, ‘Just give me pure internal qi and I’ll handle the rest’?”

Seol Lihyang giggled as she pulled her hand away from my back.

After taking a day to rest, we carefully traveled along the riverbank, trying out various methods to see if I could make use of the Yin Qi she had transferred into me.

Like suppressing a spreading poison by concentrating it in one place using internal qi when afflicted—

I tried encasing Seol Lihyang’s Yin Qi within my own internal qi, binding it to a corner of my body and releasing it when needed.

Or instead of drawing it into my meridians, simply pushing it out to coat the surface of my body.

We tried several other methods too, but most of the results were… underwhelming.

Well, of course—they weren’t my internal qi. I couldn’t operate them directly, and the longer I held onto them, the more chills I got, with minor side effects as well.

Even worse, when I tried drawing up my qi to swing my sword in earnest, my focus would scatter, interfering with my power.

Still, I figured it was worth trying for a simple reason.

“At the very least, it’s better than before.”

“That… yeah, that’s true.”

The more I repeated the process, the more familiar it became.

That was partly thanks to Seol Lihyang’s incredibly refined Yin Qi and also due to my own skill at managing internal qi.

But more than that, it was likely due to my past life’s experience of syncing up with her.

Our martial techniques may differ, but the Yin Qi at their core originated from Seol Lihyang herself.

I was quickly adapting to her qi.

Also, by cautiously infusing me with only the most purified qi every day, Seol Lihyang’s own internal qi control had visibly improved.

“I still can’t keep it for long, or use it like my own… but since the point is just to block invading Yang Qi momentarily, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“But I’m not sure if this is the right way. When I was learning from my master, they told me never to accept someone else’s internal qi, or inject mine into someone else.”

“They’re not wrong. From a conventional viewpoint, what I’m doing is practically suicidal.”

“What?! Wait, you mean it’s that dangerous?!”

“It’s fine. I’m a bit of a special case.”

After all, why is it dangerous to mix internal qi with someone else’s? It’s because energies of differing nature can clash, tearing through the meridians.

In other words, the risks lie in internal injury or qi.

But those are things I’m all too familiar with.

The internal qi of the Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art is soaked in the killing intent I’ve accumulated. And after defeating the Black Sky Sword Emperor, that intent no longer grew darker, freeing me from the risk of Qi.

In other words, I had been living side by side with Qi until recently.

It’s not like Seol Lihyang is violently forcing her Qi through my meridians—she’s gently pushing it in. So there’s no real danger from this.

“So don’t worry. It’s all right.”

“Ugh… if you say it’s okay, then I’ll keep going, but… can we really make it in time?”

“In time for what?”

“I mean for your fight with the Bloodflame Fist Demon. Can you get used to it enough before then?”

“There’s no way to know. But since I don’t know, I figure I should try as much as I can. Actually, looks like we’re about to find out.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

A familiar presence—if you could call it that—was approaching from ahead.

Seol Lihyang hadn’t noticed it yet, probably because her sensory range didn’t reach that far. She only tilted her head, puzzled.

But not me. It wasn’t just the range—it was the unmistakable demonic qi, unpleasant yet impossible to ignore.

There was only one person in the area with that level of maggi.

“Bloodflame Fist Demon.”

“Why are you suddenly saying his name—huh??”

A sudden gust of wind rustled the long-hanging branches near the riverbank, revealing the landscape beyond.

A wide, open gravel field. At its center stood a middle-aged man I had seen once before, arms crossed, waiting for us.

Though he was still far enough away to just barely register at the edge of my senses, it wasn’t far enough that we could escape now.

I might be able to get away if I was lucky, but Seol Lihyang? She wasn’t fast enough.

Perhaps aware of this, the man didn’t even bother telling us not to run. He simply smiled with leisure.

He looked completely different from when he faced Seo Mun-Hwarin, which was a little amusing—but the quiet pressure emanating from the Bloodflame Fist Demon’s body was very real.

With a tense expression, Seol Lihyang carefully hid behind me and gently pressed her hand to my back, beginning to infuse Yin Qi.

Maybe worried he’d notice, she did so slowly. I opened my mouth to stall for time.

“Hey, after running away once, shouldn’t you have gone home quietly? Why the hell are you wandering around outside so dangerously?”

“Heh. Mouthy for someone so young. Though I suppose you’ve got the skills to back it up. Unless you’ve been through some rejuvenating transformation like the White-Haired Rakshasa… are you just a genius? A shame, but you’ll still have to die. One hostage is enough.”

The Bloodflame Fist Demon uncrossed his arms with a smirk. He didn’t look like he was going to attack immediately, but it didn’t seem like he’d drag out the conversation either.

I calmly placed my hand on my sword hilt and observed him.

Red hair streaked with gray, thick muscles defying his age thanks to the overflowing Yang Qi, and skin tanned like he lived under constant sun.

Then there was his twisted mouth—perhaps from the constant burning pain caused by the Bloodflame Serpent Demon Art’s side effects—making it impossible to tell if he was smiling or crying.

Altogether, a man with an unsettling appearance.

“Who’s going to die is still up in the air… but before one of us does, I want to ask you something. Do you also think, like Shadow Ghost, that all martial artists deserve to die?”

“Hm? I heard Shadow Ghost was killed by the Tang Clan, but to think he lost to such a young one.”

The Bloodflame Fist Demon clicked his tongue in disbelief, then suddenly grew serious.

“Of course not. I’m not that extreme. I just believe that things like the Nine Great Sects and Five Supreme Clans need to be wiped out. You’re Tang Clan’s son-in-law, aren’t you? That kid behind you doesn’t even wear the green robe—she’s probably just a guest, if anything.”

“…That’s right.”

“Hostages are only useful when alive. You can’t take someone you’re about to kill hostage. So that’s how it is. Blame your talent, and blame marrying into the Tang Clan.”

Yeah. I already knew.

It’s not like I hadn’t fought him several times before my regression.

Shadow Ghost wanted the death of all martial artists, including himself, so there would be no more innocent people harmed by the martial world.

The Ghost-Eyed Witch—though I didn’t know the details—sought the destruction of the Sama Clan.

Other martial artists in the Central Plains only killed when necessary.

But the Bloodflame Fist Demon didn’t seek the eradication of martial arts or vengeance against any specific group responsible for his misfortune.

He simply wanted to eliminate the powerful—specifically, the Nine Great Sects and Five Supreme Clans.

No, more precisely, he believed that any group which gained too much power had to be destroyed.

So even if the current great powers were wiped out, and new ones began to rise, the Bloodflame Fist Demon would try to burn those fledgling forces to the ground.

He hadn’t said it, but given the chance, he’d likely want to burn the Imperial Court too.

What he desired was one thing: a single set of rules applied equally to all.

No excuses like, “He’s strong,” “He’s rich,” “He was born into a good family,” or “He’s saved many lives.”

He hated the idea of such reasons becoming excuses to overlook a person’s sins.

It was as if he were trying to correct a world where the man who beat his father to death was praised, and the one who exacted rightful revenge was condemned.

But there’s a huge flaw in that thinking.

“You’re full of crap. So you want to destroy the Nine Great Sects and Five Supreme Clans? Sure, I know your backstory, so I can guess your reason. Let’s say you succeed. Then what?”

“What do you think? I’d burn anyone else who starts amassing too much power too—”

“Then you’d better burn yourself first. Or maybe you already are. After all, that technique of yours is a demonic art for a reason.”

I grinned as I mentioned the side effects of the Bloodflame Serpent Demon Art. The Bloodflame Fist Demon’s expression hardened.

“You… What did you just say?”

“What do you think I said? It’s obvious. You’re a monstrous killer who believes in his own strength and massacres innocent people.”

“Massacre? It was all necessary. A justified sacrifice for a greater cause!”

“Do you really believe that?”

Of course not.

He didn’t want to admit it, but the Bloodflame Fist Demon knew all too well.

That at some point, he had become the very kind of person he once despised.

It’s not rare. Whether we like it or not, we’re shaped by vivid memories, and we often swear to never become like someone from our past—only to end up that way.

Even I became a dark martial artist, killing for money and martial arts, just like the black-path bastards who killed my parents.

Sure, there’s a difference between killing powerless civilians and killing martial artists ready to die—but still.

“There’s no need to feel ashamed. Everyone’s like that. Everyone thinks they’re the exception. ‘I’ll be fine. I can do it. I’m different.’ But it’s all meaningless in the end.”

Shadow Ghost wanted the death of all martial artists. That included even the Heavenly Demon he revered, and himself.

That’s why, when asked, he could easily say that once his mission was complete, he would take his own life.

But look at this guy.

The Bloodflame Fist Demon was spouting words he didn’t truly believe.

That contradiction—that unresolved inner demon—is why even after more than ten years at the Sub-Perfection level, he’s still stagnant.

As I stared him down, the Bloodflame Fist Demon answered with a calm, composed look. The gaze that saw me as a mere child was gone.

In a more serious tone, he spoke.

“You seem to know quite a bit about me. Don’t tell me… you knew I was in Hubei?”

“Hardly. I’ve just always kept an interest in the Demonic Cult. Isn’t it odd not to recognize one of its most famous names just because of his age?”

“I see. Then all the more reason to kill you. You’d be a hindrance to our great work.”

With a growl, the Bloodflame Fist Demon clenched both fists, and crimson-black flames rose from them.

At that moment, Seol Lihyang removed her hand from my back and stepped away.

The weight of the Yin Qi settled deep in my core. I grinned and raised my sword.

“In the end, you’re no different—but you still call it some great mission.”

Two warriors with no intention of backing down had drawn their weapons.

Kill, or be killed.

Only one ending awaited us.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep