The Return of the Crazy Demon-Chapter 246: Time Is Needed to Adjust to the Darkness

Is something wrong with me?

I felt more guilt killing wolves that had been trained by humans than I did killing the hunters who had trained them.

Does that make me an enemy of mankind?

Without reaching a conclusion on that thought, I deflected the weapons of the mixed rabble, severed a hunter’s arm, and seared the faces of vagabonds with the Hundred Battles, Tenfold Tempering Technique wrapped around my fists. Since the enemy outnumbered us, defending was a hassle, so I instinctively shifted to an all-out offensive, drawing upon the subtleties of Dokgo’s Double Blade Technique.

Sure, my wooden sword is light.

But my attacks aren’t, so it works out.

Suddenly, a severed arm came flying past me and sprayed blood across my face.

This is why fighting is a pain in the ass.

Wiping my face, I slashed down another Taoist, then chased after a hunter swinging a blade and cut his throat. The stench of blood pierced my nose. Was it because my martial arts had improved that my senses had become more sensitive? The mix of blood and the body odor of an unwashed hunter was especially disgusting today.

The smell annoyed me, so I sheathed the wooden sword and re-wrapped the Hundred Battles Technique around my hands.

Snap!

As soon as I caught the whip flying toward me, I infused it with the technique and yanked. Even in that moment, I could guess its purpose.

It must’ve been used to beat the wolves.

The man it belonged to was already unconscious by the time he reached me, screaming as the lightning coursed through him. I snatched the dead man’s whip, infused it with thunder energy, and began thrashing everything in sight.

It was far more efficient.

I kicked the wolves away when I could, and beat the wolf tamers to death with the whip. That’s the beauty of thunder energy—it transmits through the limbs, even if you block the weapon. Some merely grazed by the whip spasmed violently, only to be cleaved in two by Drunk’s sword.

That’s when I looked around and noticed I was fighting in tandem with Drunk. Sword Demon and Lecher were off on their own rampage.

Thunder energy paired with a swordsman. Ice arts paired with a swordsman.

That addition equaled annihilation.

Whenever Lecher burst forward with ice arts, Sword Demon followed up without fail, swinging the Bright Sword to sever throats.

Sword Demon is merciless by nature. From the very start of the battle, he was ending enemies with a single strike, moving swiftly and efficiently. He already seemed to grasp parts of Dokgo’s Double Blade Technique. If I handed him the secret scroll later, I had no doubt he’d master it with confidence.

That should be enough for the scroll’s purpose. Then again, the White-Robed Scholar wasn’t just any ordinary man either.

Drunk shouted at me.

“What’re you gawking at?!”

Still gripping the thunder-infused whip, I looked around and projected my voice with internal energy.

“Creatures of Juksan, kneel.”

No one listened.

Then, a Taoist sprang into the air and flew at me with sword drawn. Ignoring the rejected surrender, I instinctively activated Self-Energy Technique. Only after striking did I notice the whip was glowing violet from the energy.

Whud!

A blunt impact rang out as the airborne Taoist exploded midair, shredded apart by the whip infused with Self-Energy.

Splatter!

It wasn’t just a difference in power. This was destruction.

Chunks of flesh and blood sprayed everywhere, soaking nearby vagabonds in gore. They screamed in horror.

“Dumb bastards. Only realize after they’re torn apart.”

Their screams were laced with regret, like they’d picked the wrong battlefield.

Soon, they started fleeing one by one, behaving like proper broken stragglers. Taoists grabbed nearby hunters and shoved them forward as sacrifices. Vagabonds glanced around and retreated. The Taoists, however, cut down retreating allies and urged the fight onward.

Ruthless bastards.

Clearly, the Taoists feared or trusted Mulungja more than they feared the Four Great Evildoers.

I wiped the blood from my face and glared at them.

“Why are you all dying while Mulungja’s nowhere to be seen? So this is why they call him the Western Evil.”

As soon as I spotted one of them trying to flee, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) I used light footwork to close the gap, grabbed his head, and blasted him with the Hundred Battles Technique. Maybe because I’d advanced in level, his scream was pitifully short.

The hunters had already been wiped out. The cowardly vagabonds had scattered. Some had even clashed with the Taoists before slipping away.

Only the Taoists still glared at us with resolve.

Lecher looked over and asked,

“What’s up? Did you spot something?”

I was surveying the Taoists. They were all heaving for breath and glaring at me, and they were skilled enough to be collectively labeled as the Juksan Sect.

As I observed them, I finally noticed two men who weren’t out of breath.

“Which of you is the eldest?”

“......”

I turned to the one glaring at me with particular hatred.

“You’re the ventriloquist, aren’t you? Thought you could keep your mouth shut and fool me? Those creepy eyes of yours scream ventriloquist.”

Just then, a clear voice rang out.

“Did the Pavilion Lord cease the fighting to settle matters between leaders?”

I looked around with the others, bewildered.

“What the hell? Who just said that?”

It wasn’t the ventriloquist.

The voice was unfamiliar, and it wasn’t the tone of a demonic heretic. It had an odd pronunciation. I looked around, then up into the trees.

“Say it to my face.”

The tree branches shook far off, and a young monk in robes descended lightly to the ground.

Truth be told, not much surprises me—but seeing that monk left me speechless.

“......”

Because his robes were identical to Gwangseung’s. He wore a yellow outer robe over a shabby gray inner one. I couldn’t not recognize it.

The moment I saw him, I knew who he was.

He was Gwangseung’s senior disciple. According to Gwangseung, he was a martial arts prodigy—a wandering warrior-monk who’d left the esoteric Buddhist order to travel the world. But seeing him in person, he seemed more like a scholar than a fighter.

Here’s the thing.

This was the monk whose death had driven Gwangseung to descend into the martial world in my past life.

The monk looked at me and spoke.

“If I lead you to Mulungja, will you resolve this between leaders and avoid needless bloodshed?”

I couldn’t help sighing. A martial genius, yes—but apparently a total square.

Goddammit...

He radiated such righteousness it practically showed in his qi.

Still, I nodded.

“Lead the way.”

The one I assumed was the eldest disciple spoke up.

“Who the hell are you to butt into someone else’s business?”

The monk replied calmly.

“If the fighting continues, everyone here will die by the Pavilion Lord’s group. You know that much by now. If you fear the master's rebuke, then withdraw. You four, follow me.”

Even with just a few words exchanged, everyone could tell this monk was inflexible to a fault. He was one of those who placed too much faith in human goodness.

Which is probably how he ended up dead.

Martial artists aren’t naïve like this monk.

Sword Demon asked,

“Monk, where do you hail from? That’s a rare robe.”

“I came from the West.”

“Tianzhu? Esoteric Buddhism?”

“I’m just a humble wanderer.”

Lecher cut in,

“Nope. You’re anything but humble.”

I addressed the eldest and the ventriloquist.

“This is your only shot at living. Interfere and die. Stay still and live. What’s your choice?”

The monk interrupted again.

“Pavilion Lord, please don’t kill any more. You’ve already killed enough.”

I snapped at him.

“Shut it!”

“......”

Come to think of it, this monk was my senior in a past life—the one who died in the martial world.

I think I understand how he died now.

He was a man who trusted people too easily, who believed humans could be guided. But humans don’t change that easily.

If they did, I wouldn’t be on this damned journey. I could’ve just stayed back drinking in Baek Eung-ji.

The monk calmly said,

“If you continue to kill, I won’t reveal where Mulungja is.”

I nodded.

“Stubborn monk. Doesn’t matter. Then everyone here will die instead.”

My former-life mentor said,

“I’m not telling you to kill Mulungja. If you’re taking him to the Martial Alliance to seek forgiveness, I’ll help. I’ve heard of you, Pavilion Lord. You’re capable of at least that much, aren’t you?”

Oh wow—he’s heard rumors about me?

This whole absurd situation had me wide awake.

In my past life, this monk died, and then Gwangseung appeared in the martial world. But if the monk survives and Gwangseung arrives—it changes everything.

There’s no reason he has to die again.

I looked at the monk.

“I’ll deliver him to the Martial Alliance. Lead the way.”

The stubborn old monk smiled faintly.

“Pavilion Lord, you lie too smoothly.”

“Caught me. But you’re still more suffocating than I am, Baldy. You’ll choke to death at this rate.”

“I’m not bald. I shaved my head.”

I stared at him.

He’s kind of fun to tease. Confirmed.

Sword Demon spoke in a calm tone.

“No need to go looking.”

“......”

We followed his gaze to the hill, where four old men were walking up.

All of them reeked of strength, each with their own aura. Like old Evildoers reunited with the young.

I checked the monk’s qi.

He was indeed a genius. His skill was absurd for his age. But could he take on all four of them alone? Doubtful.

The surviving Taoists lit up with hope and rejoined the old men.

“Master.”

The one in the center spoke.

“I heard the former Left Guardian of the Demonic Cult was here, so I gathered some allies. Looks like you’ve killed quite a few of my disciples, as expected.”

So this was Mulungja.

The sight of him being much older than I remembered sent chills down my spine.

Weird. Did he gain power from peaches or something?

I asked politely,

“So you’re the infamous Mulungja, devourer of peaches and Western Evil?”

Mulungja bared his jagged teeth and laughed.

“Right. You must be the infamous Pavilion Lord of Haomun. Heard you’ve been cozy with Im Sobaek. Disgusting excuse for a leader—sending a green brat to the front while you live in luxury in the Alliance.”

“I’m adding slander of a sect leader to your crimes.”

“Is that a real crime?”

“It is now.”

I turned to the awkwardly standing monk.

“Baldy, come here. Those guys don’t listen to reason. Get over here. Why’re you just standing there like an idiot?”

He looked flustered but approached.

“Pavilion Lord, I’m not bald.”

“Then what do I call you?”

“Just call me Dongsu.”

I tried not to laugh. Dong (童) can mean both “child” and “bald.” So the name Dongsu could be interpreted as “Life of a Bald Guy.”

Anyway, I had to protect this “Life of a Bald Guy.” He was my senior, after all.

I gently grabbed his shoulder.

“Nice to see you, Dongsu.”

He looked at me and said,

“Pavilion Lord, I think I’m a bit older than you...”

“So what?”

“Yes, sir.”

As far as I know, his real name is something more complex. I’ve forgotten it already. I pulled Dongsu behind me for protection.

Standing in front, I spoke.

“Dongsu.”

“Yes, Pavilion Lord.”

“Watch how madmen fight in the martial world.”

Standing beside the Four Great Evildoers, I glared at Mulungja and his old crew.

My earnest, naïve senior needed to see the darkness of the world for what it was.

If a battle breaks out...

Well, the Four Great Evildoers are as ruthless as I am.

In this brutal world, we need time to adjust to the light.

But Dongsu... he still needs time to adjust to the dark.