MTLNOVEL Chapter 554
Tang Nan-ah was in a frenzy, desperately treating Qing’s wounds while sitting cross-legged.
“I’m—not going to make it. I’m not going to make it…”
As she poured in the hemostatic powder and slathered on the ointment thickly, her hands, which had been climbing up from the thigh, hesitated at the chest. No, why is she like this, really, really…
Tang Nan-ah’s vision blurred with moisture.
The fact that she wasn’t sliced in half is a miracle, considering that the muscles were as solid as a hunk of iron, making it hard to get anything in. Honestly, it’s a miracle that her belly hasn’t burst open.
Shivering, Tang Nan-ah thought, why, why won’t the vest come off, and she awkwardly took off the jacket and wrapped it around herself.
Having used the hemostatic powder from the Tang family pharmacy, which is the best in the Central Plain, it was impossible to stitch up those solid muscles, and it definitely would disturb Qing’s concentration, making it a bad timing as well.
So there was nothing more she could do.
But still, anxiously fiddling without knowing what to do, she wondered if Qing’s head would droop right now, or if she’d stay seated like a fool, thinking why this stupid girl ended up like this, what to do, what to do…
Then it happened.
Suddenly, there was a brightness in her peripheral vision as a single flower softly blossomed behind Qing’s head.
“Aah.”
Tang Nan-ah stared at that flower absentmindedly.
If Qing was so desperate, then I shouldn’t be trembling like this.
And so she firmly wiped her tears with her sleeve, her gaze steady and unwavering after her wrist passed.
Tang Nan-ah hastily picked up the fallen herbal ingredients and medicine bottles, stuffing them into her sleeves, her chest, and into her skirt.
The Heaven’s Blade. The sword of the greatest emperor in the Central Plain.
With a single swing, it can cut down a hundred thousand enemies—what an exaggeration.
Just like when Qing gasped in awe during the martial arts competition, shocked by such a ridiculous cheat-like skill, it was an outrageous force that left onlookers speechless.
Gongson Yo-ye was holding the rear defense alone, aware that if he struck all at once, it would mean a total massacre of the Blood Ghouls.
“It’s long! It’s long!” “Get out of the way!” “It’s stretching!”
The Blood Ghouls were acting like fools, but aren’t they clearly crafty folk?
They waited for an opportunity to ambush Seomun So-jeo, ever-changing their assault routes, knowing well that if they all charged at once, they’d be done for.
Keeping their distance, one by one they lunged, trying to steal the breath from their opponent, leaping high and low, zig-zagging while using the corpses of their deceased comrades to block the qi attacks.
Still, Gongson Yo-ye held her ground, allowing none to pass, calmly handling the situation as adeptly as someone who had wielded a sword since the earliest days of memory.
But how can one handle the authority of a newcomer?
It was a life energy, pure and flowing, burning with the strength of one’s essence.
My life, which should have been sacrificed for my family, is now being burned for a friend as precious as my own family.
My only friend—though no longer the only one—my most precious friend.
But it’s unfortunate.
If I could live just one more day, half a day, even just an hour longer, how much time could I spend with Seomun So-jeo?
But even if it’s unfortunate, I have no regrets.
What’s so great about using something that’s meant to be used when it’s time to use it?
Seoliri had many similarities with the Blood Ghouls.
“It’s cold!” “It’s chilly!” “Ice Dragon!” “So cool!”
First off, their vocabulary level was the same.
Seoliri would deny it, but who wouldn’t say they had the same level of vocabulary if they looked at it?
Secondly, they didn’t hold back their bodies at all.
Ignoring defense, they charged in with sheer offense.
Of course, Seoliri could argue against it.
For the Blood Ghouls, following orders is more important than their own safety. They have been conditioned not to care for their lives, even if it means getting injured or dying while fulfilling commands.
Compared to that, what kind of martial arts is the Ice Art?
Its destruction and lethality are the worst, but the aftereffects it leaves are painfully dirty, with frozen, bursting wounds leaving mere scars being a level of luck.
It leaves aftereffects that cannot be erased for a lifetime, bearing a filthy end because of that martial art.
So for a typical warrior, when they encounter a master of the Ice Art, they would step back, since it’s about killing you and making me a fool with a hardened resolve.
Yet, even so, Seoliri was still able to unleash a plethora of ice dragons.
The first reason being, her previously poor inner strength had been complemented through mastering the Ice White Divine Skill and the subsequent intense energy focus.
But Seoliri’s reason for fighting wasn’t just about repaying that favor.
The only kindness she had ever received from me was the small pity bestowed by her uncle, Seolga.
I had never experienced family, so I couldn’t understand that warmth.
But now, I can understand.
The warmth of a mother cradling her child, the subtle love an older sister shows for her younger sibling, and the feelings of that sister watching over her brother.
Seoliri, who had lived all alone in isolation, now has family. A foreigner, whose blood and even ethnicity do not match, yet…
A warmth that my own people have never given me.
And so Seoliri radiated cold once more.
My mother, my sister, but since I’m older, my younger sister.
“Tang, sister! Over here!”
The Ice White Divine Master strikes at the enemy.
A Blood Ghoul falls, but another jumps over it to charge in.
Seoliri raises her left arm to block, yanking back her right arm, bracing herself with the mindset to give up an arm and take the kill.
At that moment, a thick needle shot up from the open sky into the eyes of the charging Blood Ghoul.
“Hey! You! Are you going to go crazy or what? Can’t you at least hold back a bit? I have to protect this side!”
“Yeah. Nope. No way.”
“What? Why are you talking like that, and why are you using informal language!?”
“My heart.”
“What, what! You! You acted all prim and proper in front of Qing, but…!”
“Seol, jump!”
At that, Seoliri burst into the air, scattering frost everywhere.
The corpse of a Blood Ghoul sliding beneath her collides with the one that charged in, sending it rolling on the ground.
The second reason Seoliri was still in peak condition was that Je-gal Lee-hyun was skillfully backing her up.
Seeing the battlefield, Mo Yong Joo-hee knew it would be a huge loss to stick close and support Seoliri; she rather adjusted and took on a supportive role to maintain formation.
Of course, with Seoliri’s reckless charging, it wasn’t easy to reach the places she couldn’t.
But at that time, she had sought the help of Tang Nan-ah, managing to escape from a really huge crisis for the moment.
“Seol, over here! You can’t go off on your own! If you miss even one, it’ll get to you!”
With that, Seoliri rushed back to her position.
Suddenly, she wondered why Seomun So-jeo was simply ‘sister’ while everyone else became Seol ‘sister,’ Tang ‘sister,’ and Mo Yong ‘sister’—but then quickly reached out again as another Blood Ghoul charged in.
A glimmering Sword Aura from Chang Sanya, with Namgoong Shin-jae’s double swords tracing the perfect trajectory as they converged in one place.
The King’s Sword Form, Namgoong Shin-jae grit his teeth.
Wasn’t this just a shabby sword unworthy of the king’s name? How could a mere weakling who was only focused on defense and evasion dare to call themselves a king?
At that moment, the three swords clashed with a clang!
That’s when it happened. The Sword Aura created by Chang Sanya violently rips apart the space by following the path of the sword.
Namgoong Shin-jae barely sits down, just managing to avoid the destruction.
The ideology of a warrior who has reached the Realm of Transformation.
A blade that exits half a beat late behind the trajectory of the sword, which could only be recognized thanks to the experience he had with that sword technique; otherwise, he would have inevitably fallen to that absurd darkness.
The Wind Dragon Ascension Sword. When one reaches ultimate skill, the wind blade follows the sword, biting at the enemies.
That was an astoundingly accurate description of the record.
Chang Sanya, standing back, unleashed his sword toward Namgoong Shin-jae, aiming to sweep horizontally at the lower half, with the wind following right behind.
But then, clang!
Pang Dae-san, diving in, defended with his own blade.
Chang Sanya’s crescent stroke was abruptly broken mid-arc.
Swish! A fierce wind brushed past Namgoong Shin-jae’s neck leaving a small line.
“Ugh, thanks for that!”
“Quickly!”
Pang Dae-san shouted as he rolled on the ground.
It was a command to quickly get up and help rather than thank him.
Namgoong Shin-jae knew this well, springing to his feet, ready to swipe his two swords down, scraping the ground as he charged, clang! Pushing Chang Sanya’s sword and cutting through the air again.
What truly vile and despicable swordplay.
Simply keeping distance to slash with unseen tactics, shadowy strikes.
Such means typically deplete a considerable amount of inner strength, but how could a demon from the Blood Sect, who built their inner strength with a human heart, even have enough?
Instead of counterattacking, they were frantically focused on cutting out the roots of the sword skills, driven only to evade.
Endless tag, an unfair game where the seeker only receives hits and falls.
Chang Sanya drew back his sword.
Anyone can carry out a fine strike in thin air, but Pang Dae-san was still three steps back while Namgoong Shin-jae had lost balance.
No! Namgoong Shin-jae forced his feet down. Thud! A sharp pain in his knee, but as Chang Sanya’s sword swung out—
Swish! Clang!
Out of nowhere, the storm hit, and with a sudden jolt, Chang Sanya’s sword veered off course and soared upward.
The trajectory was merely odd. Its energy was terribly weak that even a scratch would result in no injury whatsoever.
But who would dare step in and block the Tang Family’s herbal medicine with their body?
His mouth tasted bitter; his body craved air, and his lungs couldn’t handle it. He felt like he would burst with every breath he took.
Look at Pang’s state.
Soaked in blood from failing to block Chang Sanya’s wind blade, probably looking just the same.
Pang Dae-san slammed the ground and stood up.
His slashed arm throbbed with unbearable pain, but gritting his teeth, he pushed forward.
Didn’t he boast about holding strong?
Even making a show of putting up a façade of bravery like Jo-hyung. Now, sprawled down in a pitiful mess, he couldn’t show his face to Qing again without carrying the burden of another lost friend.
That selfish idiot, who always butted in to help his friends with no agenda, was now shutting himself off, giving no chance for anyone to assist.
But now, at last, he had taken a single step forward, opening up his heart.
If he disappointed now, he’d probably regret it for the rest of his life like a fettered soul.
Well, then, what wouldn’t he be able to hold out against?
Just holding on is all—ugh, damn.
Pang Dae-san gritted his teeth.
To think he was just barely holding on? Just like the two of us sharing the status of Supreme Martial Artists.
After putting down the enemy, what could he possibly glean from his battered state as he staggered weakly, sneering at them for how slow he was?
Had he known it would come to this, he would have trained harder.
Should have swung the training sword one more time instead of frolicking around to avoid his family’s bickering.
When his sister teases him, instead of dodging, he should have engaged in sparring once more.
All those wasted times gnawed at his bones.
If only he could turn back time, he would replace every moment with rigorous training.
Yeah, except when heading to the opening.
Pang Dae-san suddenly let out a laugh, surprising himself.
Asura. The descendant of Asura.
And right after taking a hit; yeah, that punch was really something, definitely felt like Asura’s descendant.
At that moment, his vision went bright. Ha. Right. That punch was like thunder.
In an instant, Pang Dae-san gathered力量 from the strike in the air. And pulling back his left hand tightly.
A crackle of lightning surged from his side.
Tick, with his strength waning, the energy shot at Chang Sanya’s sword but couldn’t stop the oncoming strike.
But in that one moment, where they clashed and slowed down, a small gap opened, so Pang Dae-san’s left hand shot forward like a bolt of thunder.
Seeking to accumulate strength, he went.
To see that thunder strike, if one turned their head, it would have been seen after the lightning has already descended; that’s how it went with thunder, flashing while roaring afterward.
Chang Sanya, seeing the incoming strike approaching his thigh, hastily pulled back.
Pang Dae-san’s hand merely skimmed the place where the enemy had been, swinging wildly through the air—
Kwang!
“Gah!”
With the thunder clap, Chang Sanya screamed and stumbled back five steps.
In other words, only five steps away.
“How dare…!”
After taking a hit, Chang Sanya’s eyes turned wide with rage again. How many more times could the demonic being at the entrance to madness endure?
Clutching the sword with both hands, he raised it high above his head, with bent elbows pointing skyward.
“Not so fast!”
Tang Nan-ah screamed, her voice torn as she desperately reached for something, but all she could grab was an empty pouch, couldn’t be worse—
Swish!!
Chang Sanya sliced the air with everything he had.
Swinging his sword full power down, he bent from his waist and knee, embedding the blade deep into the ground before him.
As a warrior, it did look somewhat pitiful, but at half a beat late, the power unleashed rushed forward, becoming a shape-shifting, shadowy attack that dived straight at him—
And then.
The world was enveloped in the sound of a bell.