Return of the Mount Hua Sect Chapter 1268: Worry About The Ten Thousand People Clan Bastards! (3)
Previously on Return of the Mount Hua Sect...
“Taoist Chung Myungggggg!”
A piercing shriek tore through the air from behind, the sound striking Chung Myung’s ears with clarity.
He paid it no mind.
‘Such a racket.’
With a backward glance, he watched the departing ship accelerate, pulling away from the island. The crew rowed with fierce determination, intending to establish a safe distance shortly, though a bit more effort was needed.
Chung Myung's gaze fixed upon the swordsmen of the Ten Thousand People Clan, who were now advancing towards him like an overwhelming tide. The sight of nearly a thousand individuals, their eyes blazing and breaths ragged as they charged, sent a shiver down even his spine.
He knew that if these scoundrels from the Ten Thousand People Clan descended upon those in retreat, the casualties would be devastating.
‘So, I need to buy them some time.’
The notion was preposterous. These weren't ordinary fighters; they were the seasoned swordsmen of the Ten Thousand People Clan. Despite Chung Myung's formidable skills, confronting thousands of them single-handedly was an insurmountable task.
“Kraaaah!”
Witnessing the near-maniacal charge of the Ten Thousand People swordsmen, Chung Myung let out a smile.
“It’s been too long...”
The corners of his lips curled upwards, revealing his white teeth in a fierce grin.
“I love how straightforward this is!”
There was no need for contemplation.
The bewildering experiences of those inexperienced disciples, the harsh realities they were currently facing, their comprehension of the unfolding events, and the insidious ways the murim world's brutal battlefields continued to warp—none of it demanded his attention.
The tangled thoughts that had been churning within Chung Myung’s mind dissolved, replaced by raw, unadulterated senses.
The acrid, metallic tang of blood that assaulted the nostrils, the deafening cacophony of shouts, and a malevolent killing intent that prickled the very skin. And before him stood the adversaries—enemies, enemies, only enemies.
It was a tableau all too familiar to Chung Myung.
Tatat!
The sensation of his toes gripping the sand surged through his being, erupting from the crown of his head.
Pat! Paaat! Paaaat!
With every measured step, his stride extended, his speed escalating. Gripping his sword in a reverse hold and crouching low, Chung Myung transformed into a singular streak of sharpened steel, a bolt of lightning cleaving into the surging mass of Ten Thousand People Clan swordsmen.
The swordsmen of the Ten Thousand People Clan widened their eyes in disbelief.
‘Mount Hua’s Sword Saint!’
A peerless master whom none would dare challenge alone. Yet, Mount Hua’s Sword Saint now stood solitary, offering no reason for apprehension.
“Dieeeee!”
They roared in unison, a thunderous cry meant to steady their instinctively cowering shoulders. With every ounce of their might, they brought their swords crashing down. Blades imbued with intense animosity and raw malice descended in a direct line towards the diminutive figure of Mount Hua’s Sword Saint.
A flurry of strikes rained down.
Kwaaaang!
These blows disregarded any semblance of inner force harmony or practiced technique; only a singular, deadly intent remained. Upon striking the beach, they unleashed a colossal explosion.
Sand disintegrated into dust, and a thick white cloud billowed upwards.
‘Where did he go?!’
One of the Ten Thousand People swordsmen grimaced, his vision obscured for a fleeting moment. Their opponent was none other than Mount Hua’s Sword Saint. Losing sight of him, even for an instant, could lead to irreparable consequences.
Despite the stinging grit of sand invading their eyes, the swordsmen did not falter.
Instead, they strained their eyes, drawing upon their qi sense to its utmost limit.
‘Where…!’
Their qi senses instantly pinpointed Chung Myung's current location and movement. However, the expression that bloomed on the swordsman's face was not one of relief or triumph—it was pure horror.
‘Behind me? How… when did he…?’
A sharp sting!
At that precise moment, a prickling sensation spread across his neck. A wave of terror washed over him. Acting on a primal instinct, he reached to grasp his throat, only to witness a ghastly spectacle unfold before his very eyes.
Fine red lines, as if delicately etched by a master calligrapher, appeared across the throats of the comrades directly ahead—and then, dark red blood erupted from them like geysers.
The sting, initially akin to a paper cut, transitioned into a searing heat, as if being scalded.
This heat radiated from his throat, spreading to his shoulders. Only then did the warriors of the Ten Thousand People Clan comprehend the nature of this warmth.
Utterly bewildered, the warrior felt an urge to laugh.
‘Blood… it’s hotter than I imagined…’
But before that nascent laugh could escape, he collapsed.
Chwaaah!
Crimson blood sprayed forth in torrents from the throats of a dozen men.
Those positioned further back, having narrowly avoided the initial onslaught, stared in stunned disbelief. The outcome was graphically apparent, yet the process itself remained largely unseen.
To their stunned eyes, it appeared as though Chung Myung had simply vanished, only to reappear beside them moments later, at which point those who had charged forward suddenly began spewing blood and falling.
It was a scene that defied all conventional understanding.
Humanity naturally reveres those who elevate familiar concepts to a higher plane. Yet, faced with actions that transcend comprehension, terror is the inevitable response.
And a profound dread began to engulf them, as Mount Hua’s Sword Saint was now mere inches from their faces.
“Ugh, uaa!”
While the initial wave of attackers had channeled raw hostility into their blades, these subsequent strikes carried only bewilderment and stark fear.
Chung Myung never failed to exploit such wavering and chinks in their resolve.
Paaaah!
His blade, extended like a deadly serpent, severed the hand gripping a weapon clean off at the wrist. The upward motion of the sword couldn't be reversed into a downward slice, causing it to spin wildly like a top. Shrrk! Chung Myung’s sword then plunged into the throat of a man who had barely registered his limb's separation. Paaaah! More blood erupted. To those observing from the rear, the view was a horrifying tableau of crimson. “Y-you bastard... urk!” Chung Myung’s sword drove into the very mouth that had attempted a shout. The speed was so astonishing it seemed to defy the fabric of space, appearing at its destination instantly. “Gkrrk....... Before the soul of the severed spine could fully depart, the blade that had just cleaved a neck continued its relentless pursuit like a famished snake, seeking its next victim. Sssaaat! With a sound akin to a sharp pick scraping across pristine ice, Chung Myung’s sword carved through the air. The bodies of the Ten Thousand People Clan’s warriors followed suit in rapid succession. Shrrk! Shrrk! Shrrk! Shrrk! “Aaaaaaah!” “Aaaaargh!” The razor-sharp edge sliced through flesh and severed vital arteries, the sickening sounds merging with the agonizing cries. Blood sprayed in chaotic patterns. Paaaah! In Chung Myung’s wake, crimson mists bloomed like unnatural flowers. The blood arcing towards the heavens descended, returning to the white sand with soft, wet impacts. A cerulean sea met a whitened beach, a dark tide surged across the sand, and scattered crimson dots spread like an insidious stain. From a celestial vantage point, the scene might have been mistaken for a master artist’s canvas, a breathtaking landscape painted by an immortal being in a single, bold stroke. However, for those ensnared within that grim masterpiece, there was no beauty to be found. “Hic, hiik...” The warriors who had seemed poised to obliterate everything before them faltered, their momentum collapsing. All they could clearly perceive was Chung Myung advancing, enshrouded in a dark red aura. Sight, perhaps the most immediate and impactful of our senses. Those who had been emboldened by the fervor of their comrades' bloodlust, those who took courage from their sheer overwhelming numbers— Even those who had harbored the foolish delusion that they might be the one to bring down the giant of Mount Hua—before this sheer carnage, their very blood ran cold. Gguhguk. The phantom of the sword, which had dispatched countless souls, now advanced, dripping with blood. The blade scraped against the crimson-dusted sand, emitting a sound that made one's hair stand on end. “Uh...” At some indiscernible moment, the forward charge of the warriors at the forefront ground to a halt. Clack. Blood droplets detached from the ends of Chung Myung’s saturated hair, falling to the ground. He bore the terrifying visage of a demon freshly risen from the inferno. As the chilling gaze, reminiscent of the northern sea, pierced through the locks of hair obscuring his face, forbidden emotions surged within the chests of the Ten Thousand People swordsmen. “Ah...” Thud. A soft collision could be heard as one warrior’s back bumped against another’s shoulder. A seemingly insignificant sound, yet on the brutal stage of battle, it carried immense weight. “S-s-stop...” Just as one warrior attempted to voice his plea, Chung Myung’s sword blurred, carving dozens of afterimages as it encompassed those who had frozen in terror. Paaaah! In an instant, it was as if a great dam had burst; those caught within the blade's arc were violently flung and scattered. “H-hiik!” The sole survivor within that deadly radius, his face a mask of deathly pallor, leaped backward, or at least attempted to. Kwaak! But Chung Myung’s speed was unmatchable. Before the man could even fully straighten his recoiling knees, Chung Myung’s blade was already positioned before his throat. No matter how desperately he struggled, being impaled seemed inevitable and far quicker. Yet, in that critical moment, the man proved his mettle as a warrior of the Ten Thousand People Clan. The instant the sword pierced his windpipe, he seized the blade with both hands, halting its deadly progress. “Gk, gkrrk...” This desperate act of improvisation saved his life. Just as his throat was about to be fully breached, he managed to arrest the sword’s advance. “Gk...” His eyes bulging, bloodshot and wild, he desperately tried to push the Dark Fragrant Plum Blossom Sword away. But at that precise moment, Chung Myung’s lips curled into a chilling smile. Prrrkkkk! With a grating sound of flesh and metal grinding together, Chung Myung’s sword began its inexorable forward movement. Kakak! A hand, empowered by internal Qi, was ripped apart like fragile paper as the sword sank into bone. Kagak! Kagak! Grinding even through bone, the sword relentlessly burrowed deeper into the man’s neck. “Gk... grrk...” Crimson blood erupted from the man’s mouth in a torrent. Despite this, his hands remained desperately clamped onto the sword. It was a scene of terror almost beyond comprehension. Yet, amidst the horror, Chung Myung’s eyes remained icily devoid of any emotion, showing no trace of excitement. “Grrrk...” The man’s body convulsed violently. Chung Myung’s sword, though slow, advanced with unyielding certainty, piercing through his neck. “Grrk...” The sheer strain caused the veins in the man’s eyes to burst, leaving no white visible, only a terrifying expanse of red. The spurting blood mingled with the tears streaming down his face, smearing his visage. “S-s-save me...” His words devolved into an incomprehensible babble, froth forming at the corners of his lips. But Chung Myung understood him perfectly. Gazing into the desperate eyes of the Ten Thousand People swordsman, he bared his teeth and offered a smile. “It’s not even funny.” Paaaah!With astonishing celerity, Chung Myung's sword was withdrawn. At the same instant, the hands that had tenaciously grasped the Dark Fragrant Plum Blossom Sword were severed, soaring through the air.
"N-no..."
Paaaaah!
Before the man's horrified gaze, Chung Myung's sword descended like a meteor towards his head, imbued with monstrous speed.
Kwaaang!
A deafening explosion resounded as steel met skull. It was not a mere slice, but a brutal act of pulverization.
The man's head disintegrated upon the blade, skull fragments erupting outwards like a macabre display of fireworks.
Thud.
The now headless torso crumpled, collapsing like a withered stalk of straw.
A profound silence descended, a palpable chill gripping the hearts of all present.
Thud-thud.
Chung Myung casually lowered his sword, advancing another step.
"Ugh..."
The spectacle of a body drenched in blood held no terror.
"Uuh..."
The blood-slicked blade, the crimson droplets cascading from it, and even the pungent, metallic aroma rising from the gore-soaked corpse—none instilled fear.
"Uu, uuuu..."
However, it was those eyes that proved unbearable. Despite the countless lives he had extinguished, those cold, unblinking eyes were an insurmountable obstacle to their courage.
"Ugh... u, uaaaaaaa!"
"Aaaaaaaaaah!"
A single scream shattered the quiet, prompting several individuals at the forefront to whirl around. Overwhelmed by sheer terror, they erupted into screams and began a frantic retreat.
"W-what are you doing! Hold your ground...!"
"Get out! Move, you bastard! Uaaaaa!"
Those who had abandoned all sense of restraint swung their blades wildly at anyone attempting to impede their escape. The fleeing and the obstructers became entangled in a chaotic melee, painting an abyssal panorama.
They were no longer the illustrious swordsmen of the Ten Thousand People or esteemed members of the Evil Sect. They were reduced to pathetic, writhing beasts, desperately seeking to evade a ravenous predator.
A short, derisive laugh escaped Chung Myung at this pathetic display.
"Less impressive than I thought..."
Stamping his foot into the sandy earth, he unleashed sword qi, impaling the backs of those attempting to flee.
"You're not even worth it, huh?"
Once more, Chung Myung's entire being was awash in crimson. Even the white band tying his hair was now saturated with blood.