I didn’t belong in the Righteous Faction in the first place. On the sixty-first day of the Viper’s seclusion, he muttered, “This isn’t right...” Water dripped from the cave ceiling. The Viper had taken to heart the ridiculous claim that the Death King had fasted for many days in order to train, so he had decided to follow in Gong-Ja’s footsteps. He had been fasting for sixty days, but, as time passed, not only did his stomach become emptier, his brain also became devoid of thoughts, as if he were getting dumber. “No, that’s not it. This won’t do. In fact, I can hardly imagine the Death King fasting to train... This training method seems to be a waste of my time, vitality, and intellect, instead of a genuine way to help me defeat him.” To his rejoice, maybe, his moment of enlightenment arrived. That day, the Viper broke his fast and went down to a Skian village to gorge himself on food. Pig’s feet, fried food, noodles—an abundance of dishes, which the Viper had taught the Skians how to cook, awaited him. After feasting for five days, the Viper sat in the cave in despair, resembling a dieter who had succumbed to the yo-yo effect. “How the hell am I supposed to beat him?!” Sixty days had been wasted. This was discouraging news. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the Viper still had plenty of time left. A lot, actually. He had at least sixty years. “What should I do... Damn, what should I do...” He was still experiencing side effects from fasting for sixty days in seclusion, such as talking to himself. The Viper sighed and looked at the cave wall, envisioning the absolute truth of martial arts etched there, just like in those murim novels. Yet such fantasies didn’t come true. Perhaps the Viper wasn’t the main character after all. Maybe he was supposed to join the Demonic Cult instead of Gong-Ja. The Viper chuckled at the thought of Kim Gong-Ja’s bright smile. “Yeah, I got on the wrong foot from the start. No matter how much I think about it, he’s the one who belongs in the Righteous Faction, not me. A slightly better world? I can somewhat try to accept that, but I’m not really the type of person to save everyone in the Tower. I just like the honor of murim...” The Viper picked up a rock and hurled it against the cave wall. He had achieved nothing. The time he had spent doing nothing in this cave could be summed up to four days in the outside world. Here, time was inscrutable. Only the stones thrown by the Viper and the grazes they left showed how much time had passed. “I didn’t belong in the Righteous Faction in the first place. The reason I served Gramps Namgung Woon, rather than the Heavenly Demon, didn’t really have to do with my admiration for his martial arts. I wanted to learn a bit, and I was playing along with what Kim Gong-Ja was trying to do. I just wanted those two to have a more peaceful ending... That was a good idea.” “Compared to him, I was somewhat unenthusiastic.” “That’s how I’ve lived so far.” “Wow, that’s true, isn’t it? I thought I had been diligent, but did I really reach this point without completing anything significant? Fuck. Was the competition in the Tower really that lax? Is that why I became the Rank 6 Hunter and OJP Sect Master? Am I a genius? What would have happened if I hadn’t lived half-heartedly? The Tower would have crumbled.” “Yeah, it might have.” “Even though I am ranked sixth, it’s not like that will be engraved on a tombstone or mentioned after I’m dead. Maybe they’ll remember me three years after my death, or six years at best. After that, my name and title will crumble to dust.” “Even if my guild is called the OJP Sect, it’s a martial arts sect that thrives only within the Tower. If my sect and I were to end up at the center of a proper murim,it would be a relief if we were at least treated as a medium-sized sect. I was just trying to get people to stop fighting on the street and train them if they have the strength to fight. That’s why I gathered them...” “Wow, I did half-ass my life.” “Damn it. Death to all. Everyone should go kill themselves.” On the two hundred sixtieth day of the Viper’s seclusion training, the side of the cave the Viper faced became covered in dents as if bombs had been detonated there, a result of all the rocks he threw. The rocks he hurled as he organized—or more accurately, as he vented out—his thoughts had chipped away at the stone cave wall. Who was he? How did he end up here? What had he overlooked when he arrived at this place? What were the things he had clung and refused to let go? What were they? Did they truly matter? It took him two hundred sixty days to get his life sorted out. His hour hand was warp, and the minute hand was weft. He weaved time into a sieve, eliminating everything unnecessary—useless thoughts, anxieties, fragments of emotions, and the burdens that had cluttered his life. When he couldn’t really filter anything anymore, he threw rocks at the wall and smashed it. After cleaning up the mess, one main goal remained. “I’ll defeat Kim Gong-Ja.” Just in combat? No, he had to defeat the Demonic Heaven—the screaming grassroots’ sword—that Kim Gong-Ja had inherited. He lowly regarded himself as the Young Heaven and thought of his teacher with sparkling eyes perhaps a bit too much. Still, the Viper thought differently. Perhaps even those around him and Kim Gong-Ja himself weren’t aware of what the Viper had just realized. “Defeating Kim Gong-Ja doesn’t only mean defeating him in his Demonic Heaven Arts.” Previously, the nameless first Heavenly Demon had traversed the world and founded the Demonic Heaven Arts. They had heard the deaths, screams, and moans of people echoing endlessly across the world. That was how the world was, so how could a sword forged and used by men be any different? Even if one’s sword was celebrated as noble for standing apart from the world, what it could sever were mere empty illusions disconnected from reality. If a sword failed to sever reality, it ceased to be a sword and became a mere decoration. To strike at the world, one had to first embrace it in one’s sword. The world was made of screams, groans, and blood. Therefore, the Demonic Heaven’s sword should scream painfully as it coughed blood. Kim Gong-Ja had spread—infected—the very Demonic Heaven among the Terras. The Demonic Heaven Formula Arts created by Kim Gong-Ja wasn’t simply an upgraded version of the Demonic Heaven Arts. It had probably started from an exciting new idea that stemmed from a simple and naive reason: how cool it would be to demonstrate the Demonic Heaven Arts in a group. Still, this would not be simple. “He distributed the Heavenly Demon’s burden to countless grassroots...” The Viper’s eyes darkened. The Heavenly Demon had been exalted, but she had been alone. Her cultists had revered her not only as a leader but also as a divine figure, a living myth. Her word was the law, and her deeds were history. Only the Heavenly Demon could fully manifest the Demonic Heaven Arts. Formula arts were different. Anyone who was somewhat used to the Demonic Heaven Arts could join. There was no need for them to embrace everyone’s screams. They had to focus on one person’s scream and character, blending in like actors. Kim Gong-Ja was only a conductor of the first orchestra. Even in his absence, the formula arts could still unfold. The character of the formula arts changed depending on the participants and the intensity of their engagement and wailing. Uburka would lead the second orchestra, while Saimeslam could guide the third. Responsibilities, tasks, roles, statuses, and eventually power were divided. “If only that guy had resembled the Heavenly Demon, it would have been easier to win...” —I am not alone in my suffering. I am not the one who endures the most pain or who is the most deeply hurt. I’m the leader of the Demonic Heaven solely due to my ability to articulate feelings. In truth, I am merely the Young Heaven. “What should I do? How can I defeat this guy?” He exited the cave, still muttering to himself. It was no longer necessary to confine himself within these walls; he was sure he had a solid grasp on his sense of self. His emotions. His history. His regrets. His pride. His disappointments. All these feelings intertwined, creating a heavy lump that weighed down his heart as if it weighed a hundred pounds. This dark mass represented who he was. Even when he ventured into the village for drinks, chatted with the Skians, strolled the streets alone or hiked mountains, the heavy, dark lump in his heart persisted, reminding him of its presence. The snake that had settled within his heart flicked its tongue bizarrely. “How do I defeat Kim Gong-Ja?” On his two hundred eighty-second day of seclusion training, the Viper left the cave without turning back. The swords clashed, the sharp sound reverberating all around. The Viper groaned. He used only one sharpened sword made of iron, but I had four shadow swords. “Damn it, y-you cheap fuck!” The swords that shone with a sinister black shade flew around with my Sword Telekinesis. Considering that I was the Young Heaven of the Heavenly Demon Cult, these could earn the name of demonic swords. I used one holy sword and four demonic swords as shields and charged. The Viper became anxious. “Even though I'm a formidable opponent, this is wrong! Fuck! Sword Telekinesis and... Is this even Sword Telekinesis?! You’re supposed to send out actual swords in Sword Telekinesis!” —To be precise, it’s the technique that only Kim Zombie is allowed to use. The Guardian, who had remained silent since the duel started, finally spoke up. He was watching our battle from a distance, but unfortunately, the Viper couldn’t hear his commentary. —He summoned the Goddess of Protection’s multiple selves and used his aura to provide them with vessels and fuel them. The issue is that these swords are parts of a Constellation. They’re smart, so that makes them ego swords. They can fight on their own. Five ego swords are swirling around, radiating aura, while Kim Zombie calls their movement Sword Telekinesis. Hmm. Mmmhmmm. That’s very much like you, Kim Gong-Ja. “You’re a fucking wacko!” the Viper yelled. —Oh, that’s precisely what I meant. Even though I’m over here, muttering where no one can hear me, my will is delivered nonetheless. The world has certainly improved a lot. Their commentary had no bearing on the current match. I focused solely on swinging my sword, blocking out all distractions. Right now, my sole focus was the Viper as I maintained my offense. Sympathy automatically stepped in when the Viper deflected my sword strike. His attack targeting my waist was blocked by Prayer, while Sacrifice parried away the strike aimed at my wrist. I charged toward the Viper when he was wide open. I slashed him. Blood spurted out. The wound wasn’t fatal. The Viper quickly retreated to avoid my strike. A few drops of blood splattered on his sword, but that was it. The metal sound of the clash lingered. It happened again. The weird sensation made me furrow my brow. I heard that metallic sound again. Some would think that metallic sounds were normal when swords clashed, but they were wrong, at least right now. My demonic swords weren't made of metal; they were forged from shadow. A sword crafted entirely from aura wouldn’t make such a sound when it clashed with the Viper’s sword. It should be almost silent. Even if a sound was made, it should be similar to that of melting or biting. If the metal sounds didn’t come from my sword, that meant they had to be coming from the Viper’s sword. Viper, what kind of training have you gone through to make your sword howl ? I fixed my gaze on the Viper. He was bleeding, though he heaved ragged breaths with a smile on his face.