Present: Year 1525, Mount Hwangsan, Twenty Years After Reonhwa's Death
Mount Hwangsan was a slaughterhouse, its sacred peak desecrated, its slopes a crimson mire of blood and broken bodies. The air reeked of iron and ash, the ground trembling under the weight of clashing qi. Cheon Hajin, the 73rd Heavenly Demon, stood defiant at the summit, his silver hair soaked with gore, his tattered black robes clinging to his scarred frame. Bloodreaver, his obsidian blade, pulsed with demonic qi, its chipped edge slick with the blood of countless foes. His crimson eyes burned with a madness born of twenty years of vengeance, his qi a black inferno at the peak of the Life and Death Realm, his Slaughter Domain a shadowy maelstrom that crushed the spirits of the ten thousand warriors arrayed against him.
The Orthodox Faction's white-robed swordsmen, the Unrivaled Clans' gilded patriarchs, and the Unorthodox Sects' poison-wreathed assassins surrounded him, their qi a blinding storm of light, fire, and venom. At their forefront stood Namgung Mak Gyonwoo, the Void Sovereign Realm hero, his Heaven's Edge radiating a divine light that warped reality itself. His ten heroines flanked him—So Yuhwa's fiery blade, Baek Somin's corrosive healing qi, Jang Miran's frost-laced arrows, and the others, each a legend whose combined power rivaled mountains. They had come to end the Neck-Slashing Demonic Emperor, and Hajin, bloodied and battered, welcomed the challenge with a feral grin.
'Let them come,' he thought, clutching Reonhwa's pendant, its silver chain crusted with his blood. 'I'll drag them all to hell for you, Reonhwa.' His Demonic Tempest roared to life, a whirlwind of black qi that tore through the front lines. Orthodox swordsmen fell, their celestial blades shattering, chests caving in sprays of blood and bone. An Unrivaled patriarch's hammer swung, but Hajin's Shadow Veil Step carried him aside, his Neck-Slashing Strike severing the man's arm, blood fountaining as the limb hit the ground with a wet thud. The patriarch's scream was cut short by a Phantom Claw Strike, claws ripping through his throat, gore spilling like a burst dam.
Mak struck, his Void Sovereign Strike a blade of light that bent time, slicing through Hajin's Slaughter Domain. The cut grazed Hajin's chest, blood spraying, ribs cracking with a sickening snap. 'He's a damn god now,' Hajin thought, his meridians burning, his qi faltering under Mak's divine pressure. "You've climbed high, Mak!" he shouted, his voice raw but mocking. "Void Sovereign, huh? Cheon Ma would be jealous!"
Mak's face was a mask of anguish, his sword trembling. "Woojin, please!" he roared, his voice breaking. "This isn't what she wanted!"
Hajin's laugh was a jagged thing, blood bubbling on his lips. "What she wanted died with her, Mak!" He lunged, Bloodreaver blazing with the Heaven-Splitting Slash, a crescent of black qi that shattered the ground. Mak parried, his celestial qi clashing, the shockwave sending lesser warriors sprawling, their bodies bursting under the pressure. The heroines struck, a symphony of destruction—Yuhwa's Blazing Phoenix Slash seared Hajin's side, flesh charring, the stench of burned skin choking the air. Miran's Frost Dragon Volley pierced his thigh, an arrow lodging in bone, blood streaming as he staggered. Somin's Life-Reaving Pulse burned his meridians, his qi flickering like a dying flame.
The factions pressed, relentless. An Orthodox elder's sword slashed his arm, flesh parting in a red gash, blood dripping like rain. An Unorthodox assassin's dagger sank into his side, poison searing his veins, his Life and Death Realm qi struggling to neutralize it. An Unrivaled spear drove through his shoulder, the tip bursting out his back, blood and bone fragments spraying. Hajin roared, his Black Lotus Bloom erupting, illusory blades tearing through a dozen warriors, their screams mingling with the crunch of shattered skulls, guts spilling across the stone. But the tide was endless, their numbers a wall he couldn't break.
Mak's Heaven's Edge struck again, a painless cut as vowed, slicing through Hajin's chest, his heart stuttering. Swords followed—Orthodox blades piercing his ribs, Unrivaled sabers hacking his legs, Unorthodox spears impaling his abdomen. Arrows rained, Jang Miran's frost shafts and others' qi-laced bolts lodging in his shoulders, his back, his throat. Blood poured, a crimson flood pooling beneath him, his robes a sodden ruin. His body was a grotesque tapestry of steel, swords and sabers jutting from his chest, spears skewering his gut, arrows protruding like quills. Each breath was a gurgle, blood frothing on his lips, his silver hair matted to his face, his crimson eyes dim but unyielding.
Hajin fell to one knee, Bloodreaver slipping from his hand, clattering on the blood-slick stone. The factions and heroines paused, their qi a suffocating weight, Mak's divine aura holding them in place. His sworn brother's eyes glistened, tears falling as he stepped closer, Heaven's Edge lowered. "Woojin…" Mak whispered, his voice breaking.
Hajin's bloody grin widened, his voice a ragged, defiant rasp. "If the Demonic Path is the only road that unveils my true potential, then let the heavens bear witness—should I be reborn ten thousand times, I shall walk this blood-soaked path in every life!" He clutched Reonhwa's pendant, blood dripping from his trembling hand, his eyes blazing with madness and resolve. "For the Dao I seek… lies only within the Demonic Way!" His laughter roared, a sound that shook the heavens, his qi flaring one last time, a black flame defying the divine light around him. With every ounce of his soul, he bellowed, "FOR THE DEMONIC WAY!!!!!!"
The factions struck, their blades plunging deeper. A sword pierced his heart, blood gushing like a broken spring. A spear tore through his lung, air hissing from the wound. An arrow drove into his neck, blood gurgling as he choked. Mak's final strike came, Heaven's Edge slicing cleanly, a merciful end. Hajin's body shuddered, his crimson eyes fading, Reonhwa's face the last vision in his mind. 'I defied them, love,' he thought, his heart still. The Neck-Slashing Demonic Emperor fell, his body a ruin of steel and blood, the mountain silent save for Mak's quiet sob.
Darkness enveloped him, a void colder than death. Then, a jolt—like lightning searing his soul. Hajin's eyes snapped open, his body whole, no wounds, no pain. He lay on a soft bed, silk sheets cool against his skin, the air heavy with jasmine. Polished wooden walls and paper screens surrounded him, lit by flickering lanterns. His hand flew to his chest—Reonhwa's pendant was gone. His qi, once a black storm, felt strange, restrained, like a beast chained. 'Where the hell am I?' he thought, his heart pounding, confusion warring with defiance.
He sat up, his blond hair falling over his eyes, his body clad in unfamiliar white robes, soft and pristine. A mirror across the room reflected his face—younger, unscarred, but unmistakably his, crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion. The room was serene, a stark contrast to the blood-soaked chaos of Mount Hwangsan. 'This isn't the Murim world,' he thought, his mind racing. 'Another life? Another damn trap?' His fists clenched, his qi stirring, still potent but altered, as if bound by new rules.
A soft knock came at the door, and a feminine voice called, "Young master, are you awake? The academy awaits." Hajin froze, his thoughts a storm. 'Academy? Young master? What kind of bullshit is this?' He stood, his body tense, ready to face whatever awaited, his defiance unbroken, Reonhwa's memory a fire that still burned in his soul.