The Return of the Crazy Demon-Chapter 268: I Didn’t Take the Flute

The moment my sword clashed with the Sword Guest’s, I heard a faint sound from my arm.

It was the kind of sound that made me feel sorry for my arm, somewhat sorry for Heukbaek Soso, and not at all sorry for Moyong Baek.

Naturally, it was the sound of the stitched-up area tearing all at once. If I wanted to grip my sword properly, such injuries were inevitable.

As soon as I took on the Sword Guest, everyone else found their match.

The man wielding the straight blade faced the Sword Demon, and the one swinging the whip was up against the Lecher. In other words, among the ten enemies, the three strongest were now being handled by the three of us.

Cha Seong-tae ended up charging into the injured, letting out some unintelligible roar.

Even Moyong Baek started chattering next to Cha Seong-tae. I was admittedly baffled by the fact that even the physician was fighting, but the Sword Guest’s long sword kept me too busy to care.

In any case, fools who get angry are impossible to stop.

I parried the long sword and met the Sword Guest’s eyes.

“Wow. You’re keeping your cool, even now.”

The Sword Guest said nothing.

"......"

Now that we were actually clashing, his long sword felt even longer. His swordsmanship was unique too—independent, belonging to no school or sect.

His thrusts recovered quickly, and his slashing arcs were absurdly wide. He often used spinning motions to add power to his techniques, unleashing explosive internal energy at just the right moments.

When I clashed palms with him to test his force, I found it laced with a recoil-like resistance, wary of internal power contests.

He was a well-balanced and capable swordsman, both in swordsmanship and inner energy.

Thinking back, I recalled that this Sword Guest might have been alive during my past life as the Crazy Demon.

In the middle of the fight, I heard the Lecher laughing.

Since I didn’t hear the whip slicing through the air, I figured he was holding it and injecting it with ice arts.

While I was distracted trying to grasp the state of the battle, the Sword Guest’s blade skimmed dangerously close to my shoulder.

Focus...

When I suddenly extended my left palm for a suction technique, the Sword Guest dodged by widening the gap, then abruptly kicked off the ground and twisted into a light step technique midair.

“Huh?”

That was when I realized how this Sword Guest had survived for so long.

He was the kind of bastard who could abandon his allies and flee without hesitation. He must have seen the tides turning against him.

Even as he ran, his long robe didn’t flap about wildly.

It must’ve been weighted inside.

I chased after him using Jeunjong, intentionally sheathing my wooden sword.

Just as I thought he didn’t seem particularly desperate in his movements, a long sword suddenly shot out from under his armpit and unleashed a slash of sword energy.

Ssshwreeeeek!

Anticipating the ambush, I leapt into the air to evade it, and the Sword Guest spun and sent two more slashes at me.

They formed an X of light—two sword energies that seemed impossible to dodge.

Midair, I unleashed Ilwol Gwangmak faster than ever before. Strangely, when something touches that veil of light, you feel no recoil, which sometimes even startles me.

Even as the twin beams of light returned straight to him, I was already closing the distance.

The Sword Guest finally showed a shocked expression, breaking his own sword energy with his blade and twisting his sword for another slash.

I drew my Flash Dagger with my right hand and reversed my grip on the wooden sword with my left.

With the reversed wooden sword, I blocked his long blade, then stabbed at his chest with the dagger.

Clang—Clang!

Two metallic clashes rang out almost simultaneously...

Then, as if nothing had happened, we exchanged five or six more fiery clashes of steel. He must have been wearing sturdy armor underneath—but that didn’t surprise me.

He had top-tier light step technique, armor, could retreat when needed, and knew how to ambush mid-retreat. A true martial criminal.

So it wouldn’t be strange if he used poison next.

I floated two weapons in the air and switched grips—wooden sword in my dominant hand, Flash Dagger in the off-hand.

Once again, I met his calm eyes.

This guy’s not ordinary.

Of course he wasn’t. An ordinary man wouldn’t have become a martial criminal in the first place. I erased every trace of arrogance from my heart and focused solely on fighting him.

Though the chase had been short, the sound of the flute was growing faint.

Was this a trap?

Did he have reinforcements nearby?

Calming my mind, I swung my sword. The Sword Guest suddenly flared his long robe wide.

Ssshhrrk!

Having expected some trick from that robe, I fell back while releasing sword wind. Something burst in the air, releasing a thick green mist.

I held my breath and swung to disperse it. Where the Sword Guest had been, only his black robe remained.

“...Wow.”

Still holding my breath, I sheathed both weapons and took a step forward.

Boom!

I filled the surrounding air with dust, then sent out a sweeping suction wave, blasting the area several steps away.

Though the robe stirred, I heard no footsteps, no breathing, not even fabric rustling.

No way...

Unless he’d climbed a tree or burrowed into the earth, disappearing was impossible in this environment.

A technique from beyond the border?

The flute stopped. Either my hearing failed me, or the fight had ended.

I continued holding my breath. I didn’t move. I simply waited—waited for the Sword Guest to make a sound, breathe, move, or strike.

Only one thing was certain.

He was nearby.

I knelt down and stabbed the Flash Dagger into the ground. It was nearly time to breathe, but I held on.

Was I hallucinating? Had I already been poisoned?

Then, faintly, from afar, I heard the flute again.

Gripping the dagger, I infused it with Moonlight Cold Heart Technique. The chill froze the area around it, then slowly expanded.

"......"

I didn’t inject too much. Just slowly fed it in while holding my breath. Now I was at the limit—barely able to endure the time it would take to drink a few sips of tea.

Then suddenly—from my right, a tree seemed to lurch toward me. In that instant, I grabbed the glowing shape with my right hand.

The sword was so fast, it had reached my neck. But I had caught it with my hand, the one imbued with ice energy.

At last, I turned and looked the Sword Guest in the face.

Fearing my hand would be severed as he tried to pull the blade back, I released a surge of freezing energy.

His long sword turned white with frost.

The hand trying to let go froze.

And in an instant, the chilling energy engulfed his face and upper body.

I had unleashed the full potential of the Moonlight Cold Heart Technique in one burst—it made even my head spin.

Not knowing what kind of counterattack might come, I immediately stepped forward and severed his neck with a blade kick, then re-sheathed my sword.

His head landed on the ground with a dull thunk, frozen solid and too heavy to roll.

“Confirmed.”

I then drew the Flash Dagger and inspected the torso. He was wearing something like Dragon Scale Armor beneath—but it wasn’t something just anyone could wear. It felt like some unholy protective technique fused to his skin. The grotesque design made me scowl.

“Whose disciple is this bastard? Brutal.”

Shoving the headless body into the underbrush, I followed the sound of the flute back.

***

The man playing the flute was still playing.

The Sword Demon sat before him, listening.

Nearby sat the Lecher, Cha Seong-tae, Moyong Baek, Dong-su, and the Drunk—all calmly listening to the music.

So both the man with the whip and the one with the ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) straight blade were dead.

Staring at the strange scene, I sat down with them, surrounding the flutist.

Once his “Fifteen Campaigns March” ended, the Sword Demon nodded.

“...That was well played.”

The flutist responded.

“Yes.”

The Sword Demon said,

“There is a monk here who speaks of compassion, but even he cannot save you. As for the rest of us—we’re not exactly overflowing with mercy.”

“Yes.”

The Sword Demon asked,

“What would you regret most before you die? Take your time. I’ll understand.”

The flutist now understood he would be killed.

The Sword Demon’s tone was too serious—even Dong-su didn’t dare interrupt.

We all stared at the man about to die.

Eyes shut tight, the flutist began to cry. Then, covering his face with both hands, he answered with a flushed expression.

“My music... I should have practiced more...”

His words trailed off.

Finally, Dong-su spoke up.

“...If you spare him, I’ll take him back to the monastery. Whether he wants to or not, I’ll take responsibility. My martial arts are stronger than his, so you can trust me. He’s too full of regret and too exhausted to fight again. Killing him won’t solve anything.”

The Sword Demon replied,

“I won’t bargain over a life. But we should hear from the Sect Leader too—he knows the full context.”

I picked up the conversation.

“What was that about your performance?”

The flutist answered blankly.

“If only I had practiced more...”

Then suddenly, as if possessed, he extended his right hand and tried to gouge his own eye out.

I reflexively used the Suction Technique to yank his arm back. His face slammed into it, and he bled from the nose, staring at me in confusion.

I looked at Dong-su.

“Baldy, you’re heading back?”

“Yes.”

“What if this guy changes his mind and runs?”

Dong-su met my gaze.

“I’ll consider that my karma.”

“What if he stabs you in your sleep?”

“I’ll lecture him day and night, and stay alert.”

I turned to the flutist.

“You willing to go with the monk?”

He nodded.

“If you spare me, I will.”

Staring into his eyes, I replied,

“Then I won’t take your flute.”

I tossed the Flash Dagger to Dong-su.

“...Proceed.”

Dong-su asked, startled,

“Sorry?”

“Shave him.”

“Ah... Yes.”

Holding the Flash Dagger, Dong-su stepped up and began slicing off the flutist’s hair.

Watching, I commented,

“Careful. It’s sharp.”

Startled, Dong-su flinched. A thin stream of blood trickled down from the flutist’s crown.

Dong-su gasped.

“I’m so sorry.”

The flutist, unbothered, replied,

“It’s all right.”

Moments later, the flutist was bald, a thin line of blood on his head. Watching it all, I sighed.

“Killing someone isn’t easy. But sparing someone isn’t easy either.”

Dong-su replied,

“Still, thank you for sparing him, Sect Leader.”

“It’s not your life. Why are you thanking me?”

While brushing away the flutist’s shorn hair, Dong-su said,

“Well, now he can live—play more flute, maybe pluck a zither, eat meals, and repent. If fate allows, I’ll bring him to Ilyang County someday and let him play again. Probably better than now. Maybe even perform ‘Radiant Knowledge,’ ‘Ambush on All Sides,’ ‘Roaring Name,’ or ‘Fifteen Campaigns March’ properly. His skills will surely improve.”

At that, the newly bald man broke down and sobbed face-down into the dirt.

I stared at the wailing flutist and said,

“The bald guy’s crying.”

"......"

Everyone looked away.

I sighed again. Then glanced at my right arm—blood trickled from where the stitches had burst.

Helplessly, I looked at Moyong Baek.

He approached and patted my back.

“You can just sew it up again. Not like your arm’s been cut off. You did well.”

It wasn’t quite praise, and it wasn’t sarcasm either...

Still, Moyong Baek seemed to have matured a bit, so I took it positively.

The flutist’s sobbing continued.

I waited for the mood to settle, then said to him, not too loudly: 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

“You’re too loud.”

And with that, I realized—Dong-su had saved a life today. We did our part, but that monk wasn’t ordinary either.