Shiver.

An uncontrollable chill ran down Seo Mun-Hwarin’s spine.

“What is this…?”

Cheon Hwi stood with his sword drawn.

The killing intent radiating from him did not touch Seo Mun-Hwarin, yet she could still sense it.

And she knew.

This was not something ordinary.

Killing intent was not supposed to have substance, yet his aura dragged the surroundings into a murky swamp, making the very air feel heavy and suffocating.

Of course, as a master at the Flowering Stage, Seo Mun-Hwarin would not be affected even if she stood directly beneath his aura.

A martial artist who had achieved self-completion and awakened their willpower had near-absolute resistance to mental influences like killing intent or bewitching techniques.

But if that was true…

Then that also meant anyone below the Flowering Stage would not be free from Cheon Hwi’s killing intent.

That was utterly absurd.

Killing intent was merely a rudimentary expression of one’s will.

Everyone was born with jing, qi, and shen—mind, energy, and body, but most could not fully utilize them due to an imbalance of power.

Even those who had not reached a high level of martial arts could wield killing intent to a degree—proving that willpower could be exercised at lower levels.

But killing intent always required sincerity.

And it always had limits.

Because the human mind is not inherently cruel.

The stronger one’s intent to kill, the closer one came to deviation.

If one’s killing intent grew too deep, they would inevitably fall into inner demons.

And if they succumbed to inner demons, their will would lose clarity, thus weakening their killing intent in return.

That was how it should have been.

Yet, Cheon Hwi stood there, perfectly composed.

He hadn’t even swung his sword, yet dozens of first-rate warriors were clutching their throats, gasping for air.

Even among the Peak Stage warriors, many had trembling fingers.

Only the Sub-Perfection-ranked sect master of the Black Sky Sword Sect remained standing, though even his forehead was drenched in sweat as he drew his jet-black sword.

During the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering, Seo Mun-Hwarin had sensed that Cheon Hwi wielded a remarkable Killing Sword.

But she had never imagined it would be like this.

Even if he was on the verge of breaking through the Peak Stage—

No, even if he had already reached Sub-Perfection—

This was far too thick of a killing aura.

It was as if he was a demon star born to kill.

Unless…

“Aaah.”

Seo Mun-Hwarin stared blankly at Cheon Hwi’s eyes.

His gaze was heavy—as if it carried the weight of the world.

And within those depths, an unmistakable crimson glow flickered—the very mark of inner demons.

At that moment, Seo Mun-Hwarin instinctively understood.

It was brutal.

There was nothing else to describe it.

Cheon Hwi’s killing aura was monstrous, and the sword he wielded was even worse.

How could a human possibly contain such immense bloodlust?

It was horrifying.

But that wasn’t all.

Willpower was the manifestation of one’s mind.

Every martial artist who had reached a high realm possessed a personal inner world—a Heartscape.

That meant that with willpower alone, one could glimpse into another’s mind.

And so, Seo Mun-Hwarin saw it.

The deep sorrow buried beneath Cheon Hwi’s overwhelming bloodlust.

“Now I understand.”

The acrid scent of burning wood.

The lingering fragrance of camellia blossoms.

A single red flower, drifting in a pool of blood.

And beyond that—

An emptiness.

And an unbearable sense of guilt.

Cheon Hwi did not carry murderous intent.

He carried grief.

His killing aura was not bloodthirst—it was mourning.

“Did you say we were alike?”

Seo Mun-Hwarin did not know what he had lost or what haunted him so deeply.

But she did understand why he wept in such a violent way.

“That was true, after all.”

Because he knew no other way.

Tears meant weakness.

And weakness meant death.

The warriors of the Unorthodox Faction were like starving wolves—if they found an opening, they would tear it apart without hesitation.

Seo Mun-Hwarin had lived that way.

And Cheon Hwi had surely lived the same.

A life like a precarious dance atop a blade’s edge.

It had taken Seo Mun-Hwarin a long time to come to terms with her own weakness and regrets.

But in the end, she had accepted them—

And through that acceptance, she had reached the Flowering Stage and her Rejuvenation Technique.

But Cheon Hwi was different.

He refused to accept it.

Even though his blade only wounded himself, he still clung to it.

He held onto the pain, buried it deep inside, and refused to let go.

It was a foolish act—one that would only fester his wounds further.

But Cheon Hwi did not yield.

“…Then I shall also make up my mind.”

When Cheon Hwi was with Tang Sowol and Seol Lihyang, he was capable of smiling freely.

Seo Mun-Hwarin wanted to smile like that, too.

And since Cheon Hwi had promised they would find happiness together—

She would hold him to that promise.

Seo Mun-Hwarin rolled the words she had never spoken aloud on her tongue.

Then, she clenched her fists.

One day, when the time was right—

She would say them.

A surge of inner energy spread through her fists, condensed to an impossible degree, then solidified through sheer willpower.

White hair whipped through the air as she opened her eyes.

“Lord of the Black Lotus Society. I am taking Cheon Hwi with me. If you wish to stop me, then try. I will gladly smash your skull in.”

“Hah. I’ve made many concessions, but I’ve also given many opportunities. Accepting another Flowering Stage master would have elevated the Black Lotus Society. But defeating a warrior of equal rank would elevate my personal status even more. Your Path of Tyranny nonsense does not interest me. I have spoken, and I shall act. If you wish to stop me—draw your spear.”

“…Heh. I had heard your personality was different. But now, I see your true self.”

Sangwan Geuk let out a low chuckle, amused.

Yet despite his words, his eyes never left Cheon Hwi.

Even at his advanced age, like an excited young boy, he sat down on the ground—

And made no move to draw his spear.

“I’ve changed my mind. I won’t stop you, so if you want to go, then go. But don’t you want to see just how far that guy can go?”

“The longer one remains in a state of Qi Deviation, the more dangerous it becomes.”

“Qi Deviation?”

Hearing the words as if they were absurd nonsense, Sangwan-geuk slapped his knee and laughed.

“Hahaha! Did you just say Qi Deviation, White-Haired Rakshasa? Where in the world does that look like a martial artist suffering from Qi Deviation?”

Excited, Sangwan-geuk pointed his thick arm forward. There, Cheon Hwi was wielding his sword with eyes that blazed like bloodied flames.

A single sweeping sword strike, its energy stretched long and deadly, severed the necks of five or six first-class martial artists, whose inner strength had already been half neutralized.

Perhaps out of fear, or perhaps in a last desperate struggle, the warriors of the Black Sky Sword Sect charged at him all at once.

Cheon Hwi calmly shut his eyes for a moment, then began to respond with measured precision.

Wherever strength was needed, his sword energy flared like roaring flames, pressing down with overwhelming force. When enemies grouped together in an attempt to encircle him, he slipped between their gaps and performed a fierce dance of blades. Even when swords thrust at him from blind spots, he parried them effortlessly, as if he had foreseen their attacks.

A first-class martial artist was someone acknowledged as a skilled swordsman in any part of the world. They were individuals who had reached the threshold of being recognized as true masters in Murim.

And yet, these first-class warriors were falling far too easily.

No, it wasn’t just the first-class warriors.

Even those at the Peak Stage, who had steadied their trembling hands and summoned their sword energy, found their stances crumbling within just a few exchanges before their hearts were pierced.

It was overwhelming martial prowess.

However, what truly astonished Seo Mun-Hwarin was something else entirely.

Not even for a single moment had Cheon Hwi lost his composure. His responses were calm, unwavering.

“So he isn’t in Qi Deviation? No… he is. Cheon Hwi has definitely fallen into Qi Deviation. But—”

He had succumbed to Qi Deviation… and yet, he had regained his reason.

A contradiction—madness, yet complete clarity.

However, for Seo Mun-Hwarin, who had glimpsed even a fragment of Cheon Hwi’s mental state, it somehow felt natural.

Cheon Hwi must have fallen into Qi Deviation a long time ago.

Only now, he had already overcome it.

Instead of casting aside the demon he had conquered, he continued to embrace it.

Sangwan-geuk chuckled slyly and spoke.

“Isn’t it fascinating? To see just how broken a person can become… and how strong they can grow in such a broken state? It drives me mad with curiosity.”

“There is nothing amusing about this.”

“Even so, we should watch for now. You feel it too, don’t you?

“That he is standing at a crucial turning point.”

Seo Mun-Hwarin pressed her lips together tightly.

Once a martial artist’s mindset was set, the intent that flowed from it was not something that could be easily changed.

If it were something that could shift so easily, it would never hold such power in the first place.

So then—what about Cheon Hwi right now?

His momentum as he fought against the Black Sky Sword Sect was beginning to waver.

Not in the sense that he was about to collapse, but rather… that he was shaken.

“Did he say I wasn’t the only one who had a grudge against the Black Sky Sword Sect?”

Seo Mun-Hwarin didn’t know what had happened in Cheon Hwi’s past.

Whenever she subtly probed, he either sealed his lips shut or blatantly steered the topic elsewhere.

But from the fragmented stories he occasionally let slip, from the subtle expressions he unconsciously revealed—she could at least make a few guesses.

To Cheon Hwi, the Black Sky Sword Sect must be an irreconcilable enemy.

Perhaps even the very reason why he had come to possess such a twisted will.

Seo Mun-Hwarin clenched her small brow tightly.

She understood, at least in her mind.

Even if he weren’t in Qi Deviation, Cheon Hwi was pushing himself beyond his limits.

At this very moment, his reckless inner energy manipulation, coupled with the strain of wielding a willpower beyond his current level, must be throwing his blood pathways into chaos and draining his upper dantian dry.

If not for the interference of the Black Lotus Sect Master, she should be stopping him immediately.

“However…”

If this moment was when Cheon Hwi would finally confront the festering wound buried in the deepest part of his heart…

Then she must not interfere.

A martial artist, in the end, could only surpass themselves—no one else could do it for them.

If Cheon Hwi truly wished to let go of his own personal hell, then he must first face it.

And he must overcome it. Alone, without anyone’s help.

Cheon Hwi had once extended his hand to Seo Mun-Hwarin.

And yet, she had nothing to offer him in return.

All she could do was watch from afar and rush in only if he reached the very brink of danger.

Because ultimately, this was a battle only Cheon Hwi could resolve.

That bitter truth made Seo Mun-Hwarin clench at her own chest in frustration.

However, unlike the Black Lotus Sect Master, who merely sat back to spectate, she leaned forward, prepared to rush in at any moment.

In a voice so small that no one could hear, Seo Mun-Hwarin whispered to herself.

“This one shall be watching over you.”

***

His vision was dyed in endless red.

Was it fire? Was it blood? Or was it merely the light of his own sword energy?

He could no longer tell.

In this cursed world, there was only himself and his sword.

Nothing else remained.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep