Survival Guide for the Reincarnated-Chapter 40

Eyes wide, Han Janggwang stared at the force blooming from Unwi’s blade. It was so blindingly brilliant, it felt like it could tear heaven and earth apart.

Even in the realm of Five Qi Ascension, he had never seen anything like this.

Overwhelmed by the absurdity of what was unfolding before him, he faltered—only to pull himself together almost instantly.

Unwi hadn’t been wrong.

That sword carried too much.

A path he’d never seen. An understanding he had never reached.

Soon, the air itself began to tremble.

The wind stilled. The falling snow hung motionless in the sky.

“Desolation Blade—Piercing the Heavens.”

The moment Unwi’s sword moved, a blade of light shot forward, straight and true.

Han Janggwang saw it.

A sword strike that not even his full internal energy and momentum could hope to block.

It was something that surpassed the boundary of cultivation itself.

He tried to raise his blade—

Shhk—

The sound was like the sky itself being torn open.

And then, silence.

There was no spray of blood. No torn flesh.

It was as if the world had been neatly sliced in half.

Han Janggwang’s upper body began to slide downward.

The sword in his hands had split in two and clattered to the ground.

The snowdrifts behind him were cleaved clean through, and the shattered cliffs from earlier bore deep, jagged sword marks—some split entirely in half.

The very sword that once split the Eternal Snow Mountains in Unwi’s past life... had now split a single life.

Soon, the Snow-White Sword in Unwi’s grasp turned to dust and scattered to the wind.

The martial art was simply too vast for such a blade to contain.

Blood poured from Unwi’s lips, yet he did not fall.

He walked forward—steadily, silently—toward Han Janggwang, who stood with eyes wide, still staring up at the sky.

“What did you see?”

“...A sword... no, something beyond a sword...”

“Your end was not as pitiful as I imagined. But it still doesn’t change what I have to do.”

“I... was prepared.”

“I will erase Juryung Sword Gate from this world.”

“...So it shall be.”

Han Janggwang glared at Unwi with bloodshot eyes... then bowed his head.

He wasn’t dead. Not yet.

“...Could I ask you... one favor?”

“Not long ago you were calling me the next great demon. And now you ask for favors? How shameless.”

“I know... I know, but... what else can I do...”

“......”

“If... my end wasn’t too disgraceful in your eyes—if it didn’t disgust you... then I ask you... to spare at least one of my bloodline.”

“Uprooting the bloodline is the usual rule.”

“......”

“If you want me to break that rule... you’ll have to offer something worth my while.”

“...In the cave where I secluded myself... there’s a wall marked with crossed blades. If you dig behind it... you’ll find an elixir.”

“What kind of elixir?”

“...Empty Clear Stone Milk.”

Unwi’s eyes gleamed with interest.

Han Janggwang saw the change and asked,

“...You must’ve obtained a drop when you killed Jang Muhwi, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“I was the one who introduced that market. I secured some for myself before you did.”

“How much?”

“Six drops.”

“And how many remain?”

“Four.”

“...Four drops,” Unwi murmured softly.

“If it’s not there—in that cave corner?”

“...Do as you please.”

A warrior moves by debt and vengeance.

Though an enemy, Han Janggwang had paid his debt with his life and offered a reward to block the cycle of revenge. If the elixir was real, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° then Unwi could show some flexibility.

“If you add something else on top of that—I’ll spare them all.”

At that, Han Janggwang desperately searched his mind.

What did he have left to offer?

It had to be something of real value. Something that would tempt Seol Unwi.

And then—like a lightning flash across his memory—

“...Chosehwi of the Hanbing Sect. I made a deal with him. He promised to clean up after I killed you. In return, I gave him a share of the profits I made from selling the Cold Ridge Jade Essence I secured in Seolap. That money... ended up flowing into the Hanbing Sect.”

That...

To Unwi, right now, was the most important piece of information.

“Do you have a ledger?”

“...It should be in my quarters... but by now, they may have moved it. I can’t say for sure.”

“I see. Chosehwi of the Hanbing Sect... and the Empty Clear Stone Milk. Very well. I’ll spare your bloodline.”

“...Thank... you... cough... and...”

Even at death’s door, there was one thing Han Janggwang absolutely had to know.

“That sword art... what is it?”

Unwi looked at him in silence for a moment... then spoke in a quiet voice.

“It’s called the Heaven-Defying Sword of Desolation.”

“Heaven... Defying...?”

“Yes. A sword art that contains my entire life. It’s divided into five initial forms, and three final ones. The technique you just witnessed... was the first of the final three.”

“...And the five initial forms...?”

“I call them the Five Songs of Defiance.”

“A sword that sings... I wish I could see them. But I know I never will.”

Unwi said no more.

This was not a sword art to be shown lightly. Not a technique one revealed often.

It was forged from the regrets, sorrow, rage—every joy and grief—of his past life. All of it flowed into those songs.

Unless truly necessary, he had no wish to draw them again.

Han Janggwang coughed up blood. His body began to tremble violently.

He tried to speak, but no words came.

No matter how superhuman his focus, his final light had already faded.

His eyes dimmed. His life slipped away.

Unwi turned his body.

He saw the stunned faces around him, their expressions blank with disbelief.

“Prepare yourselves.”

“F-For what...?” Yangso asked.

Unwi’s answer was crisp and final.

“We’re going to Yangnyeong.”

A promise once made is a promise kept.

A word once spoken is a word fulfilled.

Today, Yangnyeong will fall.

****

Unwi arrived in Yangnyeong.

It wasn’t like the times before—climbing over walls in the dead of night or sneaking through the shadows.

This time, he walked in through the front gate.

Behind him followed the warriors of the Snow Compression Branch, and the swordsmen of the Iron Mountain Sword Sect, led by Yangso. Forty in total.

A small number, perhaps. But in Yangnyeong at this moment, it was an overwhelming force.

The townspeople froze at the sight of them. Shocked, terrified.

These were people who should not be here.

Hadn’t the elite of the Four Great Sects already marched out to kill them?

And then—only then—did the crowd notice what Unwi held in his hand.

A severed head.

There wasn’t a soul in Yangnyeong who didn’t recognize that face.

It was the head of Han Janggwang, the Gate Master of Juryung Sword Gate.

It meant one thing.

Annihilation.

So then—what were these men planning now?

Their curiosity drowned in fear, the townsfolk watched as Unwi spoke curtly:

“Yangso.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll take the Iron Mountain warriors and head to Juryung Sword Gate.”

“...Just us?”

“Yes. Just you. Make sure no one escapes.”

Yangso scratched his head, then gave a firm nod.

“Understood.”

The Iron Mountain warriors peeled away, leaving only the Snow Compression Branch.

“Follow me.”

Unwi walked forward.

Their destination: the gate of Jang Sword Gate.

Two guards stood at the entrance, just about to speak when—

Wonyang, standing beside Unwi, surged forward, her blade flashing twice.

Shhk! Shhk!

Two heads dropped to the ground.

Unwi strode forward like it was nothing, and slammed his foot into the gate.

BOOM—!

The heavy wooden doors shattered apart, revealing the courtyard inside.

Roughly fifty men and women stood within.

Unwi stopped. His voice was calm and commanding.

“Listen.”

“Yes, sir!”

“What I’m about to do—you may find it distasteful. Some of you may not agree. But as I said at Snow-Cold Gorge... once a warrior begins something, he sees it through to the end.”

The air inside Jang Sword Gate turned heavy with dread.

“Today, you’ll see that end with me.”

The warriors of the Snow Compression Branch hardened their expressions.

“Five Snows Become Frost.”

At Unwi’s words, the branch warriors shouted in unison:

“Five Colds Become Ice!”

Five snowflakes become a blizzard.

Five waves of cold become a glacier.

Unwi gave one final command.

“Erase them.”

“Sir!”

Jang Sword Gate was considered one of the stronger sects in Yangnyeong.

They had no less than ten warriors at the level of the Five Dragons of Fortitude.

Nine of them had died at Snow-Cold Gorge.

One remained.

He was Yeon Segwang, the “Smiling Blade.”

With fury in his eyes, he drew his sword.

“You bastards!! I’ll avenge my Gate Master—!”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Unwi lunged forward like a bolt of light, closed the gap instantly, and grabbed Yeon Segwang by the head.

He didn’t stop. He drove the man’s skull into the stone pillar behind him—

CRACK—!

A sickening sound. His head burst like rotten fruit.

Unwi turned from the collapsing corpse.

“Leave no kin alive.”

From his eyes poured a chilling, suffocating killing intent.

“Kill them all.”

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“Sir!”

Within half a quarter of an hour, Jang Sword Gate was no more.

Their next target: Hyeoncheon Palace.

****

The phrase unstoppable as splitting bamboo had never been more fitting.

This was it. The true meaning of overwhelming force.

Within half a quarter, Jang Sword Gate was wiped out. Its halls burned.

Half a quarter later, Hyeoncheon Palace went up in flames.

And another half quarter after that—Cheongun Sword Gate followed.

The people of Yangnyeong cowered in terror.

Screams echoed from every direction. Cries for mercy cut through the night like blades.

Doors slammed shut. Families barricaded themselves inside and didn’t dare emerge.

Yangnyeong was bathed in blood.

And watching this massacre with a faint sneer... was one man.

The magistrate of Yangnyeong, Jeong Mugi.

“Well, shit. That’s one crazy bastard.”

With his stern features twisted in disbelief, he listened as reports poured in.

Three of the Four Great Sects—excluding only Juryung—had been destroyed.

And at this rate, even Juryung Sword Gate wouldn’t last much longer.

“Hey.”

At his call, a man in a black conical hat responded.

“Yes, Magistrate?”

“Can you kill that lunatic?”

The man’s face was devoid of emotion as he replied simply:

“Yes.”

“Even though he’s the heir of the Everlasting Snow Palace?”

“The sword does not see bloodlines.”