The Return of the Crazy Demon-Chapter 262: I Am a Swordsman

I hurled thunder qi into Dokhaeng’s face. It was a blatant attack, like raking five fingers through the air.

Maybe it was the deafening sound that made it more dramatic.

When Dokhaeng evaded the thunder qi with ease, the five streaks instead struck the subordinates clustered around Scholar Chu Myeong.

“Gyaaaah!”

As five or six of them convulsed and screamed grotesquely—

The Drunk cut down their arms and necks as he moved forward. Meanwhile, Dokhaeng lunged at me, indifferent to the deaths of his comrades.

A man of tenacity.

In contrast, I kept my field of vision wide.

I tracked the Lecher detonating cold energy mid-air and noted the Drunk’s sword swings as he advanced.

Even then, Dokhaeng’s eyes remained fixed on me like a predator.

Suddenly, the Lecher was repelled by someone’s internal force but regained his stance.

Another explosion erupted from the Drunk’s direction.

The old man who had guided us earlier was now attacking the Lecher, and Scholar Chu Myeong watched while barking out orders like a general to his troops.

In the midst of all this, Dokhaeng’s sword came darting toward my neck and chest, but I deflected it precisely with my wooden sword.

His attacks were too fast for me to counterattack.

Should I use the Heaven-Piercing Sun-Moon Radiance?

Should I unleash Thunder Dragon Ascension?

Strangely, today I felt the urge to keep fighting with the sword alone.

When I blocked Dokhaeng’s sword cleanly, his left palm flew toward me. I deflected it with Ice Energy and grabbed hold of his hand. With our palms stuck together by the cold, he wouldn’t be able to shake me off so easily.

Suddenly, Dokhaeng used a suicidal technique.

"...!"

The swords clashed on my right, then his blade twisted mid-motion to strike my throat. I could have used the same technique, but we’d both die.

I raised my sword vertically, barely blocking the tip of Dokhaeng’s sword, and converted the Ice Energy in my left hand into the Heavenly Pearl Absorption Technique.

There was no time to consider alternatives.

‘Fuck it. Whatever.’

I had deliberately avoided using the Heavenly Pearl Absorption Technique until now. But as I activated it, Dokhaeng’s internal energy surged into my body.

His face contorted for the first time.

“What is this?”

There was no time to answer. With our hands still locked together, we clashed blades again.

I slashed his forearm while he stabbed mine.

Every swing spattered blood as we stared into each other’s eyes. The bloodlust in Dokhaeng’s gaze made me want to tear him apart—it made me smile.

“Heh heh.”

Meanwhile, I kept absorbing his internal energy with my left hand. It wasn’t easy, since he poured his own force into the exchange, but the violent clash on our right began to wear down his focus.

I was confident I could kill him without taking further damage if we dragged the fight out. But if I delayed, the Lecher and the Drunk might get seriously wounded.

When you have no choice, the process naturally becomes brutal.

Dokhaeng growled through clenched teeth.

“Let go.”

Normally, I wouldn’t.

But I immediately released my grip and yanked on his sword using the Absorption Technique.

It was a psychological feint.

As he resisted to keep his weapon, I thrust my wooden sword into his arm, clashed swords a few times, and then unleashed Ice Energy through my left palm in a wide burst.

The scattering cold formed huge brushstroke-like movements, obscuring his vision.

As soon as I saw him react, I slashed vertically with my wooden sword, releasing a wave of sword energy.

Thwack!

Dokhaeng’s arm flew into the air.

But then—he grabbed his soaring sword with his intact left hand, tore through the cold mist, and lunged at me.

That sword was safe to grab.

It wouldn’t be a functioning hand anymore thanks to the Absorption Technique.

I grabbed it with my Ice-infused left hand and stabbed my wooden sword straight into Dokhaeng’s neck.

Thud!

As I drove it in, Dokhaeng dropped his chin to block the thrust. I twisted my blade, withdrew slightly, and stabbed his face, throat, and chest in succession.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The moment I felt his grip weaken, I sliced through his neck and turned away.

Before I even heard the sound of his blade and head hitting the ground, Scholar Chu Myeong’s sword energy surged toward me like a crashing wave.

I barely blocked it with my # Nоvеlight # sword and internal force.

BOOOOM!

The thunderous roar shook my ears as I was flung into the air.

Then, Scholar Chu Myeong crouched and leapt toward me.

He sent a slash flying in midair, and I held my wooden sword forward, supporting it with my left hand.

This time, no sound came.

My ears rang with a high-pitched buzz, drowning out everything.

I felt warmth dripping down my arm—probably blood—and a sting across my face. When I landed a good distance away, blood dripped from my entire body.

The wound Dokhaeng gave me had torn open further when I blocked Chu Myeong’s sword energy.

“......”

Scholar Chu Myeong approached and said,

“You’re stronger than expected, but clearly weaker than my senior, the Blind Scholar. Dokhaeng’s sword never even touched him.”

“So what, you fucking scholar prick?”

“If you take the poison I give you, I can spare your life.”

“You take it, shithead.”

I checked on the Lecher and the Drunk. They were struggling—probably facing the old man and Chu Myeong’s direct disciples.

I said to the villains,

“...If it’s too much, run.”

They both answered in cool voices at the same time:

“Fuck off.”

“You run instead.”

Scholar Chu Myeong laughed and said,

“How did someone like you manage to kill my senior?”

As he finished the word “kill,” I was already parrying his blade.

Clang!

His internal energy was deep. Every time I deflected, my entire right arm quivered, and pain shot through my wrist like it might snap backward.

‘Damn, he’s strong.’

The scholars all had deep cultivation. They’d been training for over a decade longer than me—no surprise.

But even during the exchange, I didn’t feel overwhelmed by Chu Myeong’s swordsmanship or martial knowledge.

Not that he was lacking—just that I had no clear strategy.

Now, only the strong remained—weaklings had all fallen, and we were locked in a devilish clash. The Lecher and the Drunk were still hanging on, but I was clearly the one in greater danger.

It hit me again—Scholar Chu Myeong was the Blind Scholar’s senior.

He had perfect eyesight and deeper internal energy. No obvious weakness. If this continued, I would lose—meaning I would die.

How do I get out of this?

As I fended off his strikes, I kept thinking. Tried schemes, discarded them. Considered dirty tricks, ruled them out. Thought about psychological tactics, but didn’t risk it.

Nothing worked.

If I relied on the Absorption Technique again, my palm might rupture first.

No solutions.

Then I realized—I couldn’t activate my Zahashin Art.

Had the delicious meals and warm hospitality at the Wi Clan dulled my rage? Was I too content to fight?

Does happiness make the Zahashin Art unusable?

If my body refused to summon that art, it must mean I still had options.

There had to be a way.

I conjured about 348 strategies, got dizzy, erased them all, and looked at Scholar Chu Myeong.

He wasn’t that far above me as a swordsman.

I realized something—I’m actually not a bad swordsman myself.

Wavering between confidence and inner deviation, I exhaled slowly and refocused.

Pure offense.

I stabbed my wooden sword into his opening, and when he tried to counter, I struck the next weak point. After two successful thrusts, I recalled the martial knowledge I had read from Dokgo Heavy Sword in front of the Zaha Inn.

Since the only edge he had was deeper internal energy, I had to force him on the defensive with relentless offense.

Thankfully, only Dokgo Heavy Sword had ever used that method.

Luckily, I had read it.

I’d never practiced it—but if I wanted to survive, I had to use it in real combat. I recited names of generals I knew and kept thrusting my sword into Chu Myeong’s gaps.

Is this what people mean by a “heart-pounding” fight?

As I continued the assault, I realized even this had a rhythm. My breathing, movements, and slashes all followed a cadence.

Rhythm... in swordsmanship?

It was absurd—but I clung to it like a drowning man to a rope.

Dokgo Heavy Sword wasn’t just about slashing fast—it required a predictive sense to anticipate the opponent’s reaction.

In that moment, I finally understood the purpose of the heavy sword.

You needed a heavy weapon to give yourself a fraction more time to think—to predict.

That was the essence of Dokgo Heavy Sword: Strike hard to buy a moment’s thought.

Am I a genius? Or just insane?

While attacking Chu Myeong, I grasped Dokgo Heavy Sword’s secret.

The wooden sword was too light, so I filled that gap with Hundred Battles Tenfold Power. When thunder qi crackled on the blade with a sharp buzz, Chu Myeong furrowed his brow.

The mental strain from intense focus and using Hundred Battles Tenfold Power made my scalp burn, like swinging a sword with a migraine. Even so, I pressed on—thirty more attacks, pinning Chu Myeong down.

Never thought I’d feel proud of myself like this.

After seventy, eighty slashes, I started to grasp the rhythm of a heavy sword. Now I could block and counter smoothly with Dokgo Heavy Sword.

If someone asks what kind of man the Haomun Lord is—

Tell them: he’s a swordsman.

Dokgo Heavy Sword’s predictive sense showed me where I needed to be, what stance to take. Only from that position could I force the enemy into defense. So footwork was everything.

Just imagine the movement and horsemanship of ancient generals...

Maybe when they couldn’t strike, they spurred their horses and moved instead. After all, generals charged at the front.

In my imagination, I had reconstructed the battlefield swordsmanship of ancient warlords.

I summoned the swords of those generals into my wooden blade.

My vision widened again. The Lecher and the Drunk were now back-to-back, coordinating defense and offense. Those two mismatched bastards were actually working together to survive.

A combination of ice energy and iron defense—they wouldn’t go down easy.

The Lecher and the Drunk... as a team?

Life is unpredictable.

I read Chu Myeong’s movements as he tried to release internal force, then stabbed his palm.

With Dokgo Heavy Sword still active, I launched a furious attack. He stomped the ground and retreated far away.

With a dazed expression, Chu Myeong muttered,

“Retreat...”

As soon as I judged I couldn’t finish him now, I joined the villains and butchered the fleeing scholar disciples. They were clearly weaker—just three or four swings of Dokgo Heavy Sword severed limbs.

“Ooh...”

This was the feeling. What I learned from fighting a strong foe now slaughtered the weak like wheat.

Was this how a general on a battlefield felt?

I fused Dokgo Heavy Sword with Meteor Sword and massacred the disciples who had harassed the Lecher and the Drunk. Scholar Chu Myeong watched pale-faced, making no move to rejoin.

When the survivors finally retreated—

Chu Myeong accepted the defeated into his fold.

The Law School's troops had gone from sixty to barely a dozen.

Only then did I realize I was soaked in blood.

The Lecher and the Drunk stood silently to my left and right, staring at Chu Myeong. He glared back.

He must have known he couldn’t finish the fight here—his frustration was obvious.

I asked him,

“Do you finally understand why the Blind Scholar died?”

“......”

He asked,

“What sword technique was that? It changed mid-fight.”

I replied calmly,

“That, I cannot tell you.”

Suddenly, the Drunk grabbed my shoulder. His grip was heavy—holding onto me so he wouldn’t collapse. The Lecher’s breathing was rough too.

I stood stiffly with the two villains, maintaining my bluff.

“Shall we finish this? Do as you like, scholar.”

Chu Myeong spoke ominously.

“I will retreat. But next time, you’ll face all of us. The Scholars. Lord Mong. Master of Six Harmonies... see you again.”

The Drunk nodded and replied politely,

“Take care, scholar. We’ll meet again.”

The Lecher also answered coolly,

“Next time, let’s balance the teams. We were at a real disadvantage here.”

Chu Myeong nodded.

“So be it.”

I too said farewell.

“Chu Myeong, your fellow struck first. Let’s consider this business. No need to hold a grudge. I’m not dying for you.”

Chu Myeong nodded and turned away, leaving with the survivors. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

As soon as they disappeared, the Drunk sat down and crossed his legs.

The Lecher looked at me and muttered,

“Goddamn it... I nearly died. Why are his disciples so strong?”

I had no real answer, so I patted his shoulder.

“You did well.”

All around us, the corpses we had beaten to death were scattered like garbage.