Episode 64. Even Dung Has Its Use.
Those struck directly by the Great Flame Rooster Hand Seal were flattened like dough. A few sharp-eyed or nimble-footed ones managed to dodge, but it didn’t matter.
I had already seized the initiative.
As I landed upon the palm-shaped crater, I gathered flame around my right hand again, as though preparing to unleash another seal.
Under the moon’s solitary light, my hand glowed crimson once more—
—and the rabble alliance collectively stepped back.
A natural reaction, considering the corpses of their comrades lay all around, their bodies charred and crushed beyond recognition.
Their leaders retreated even further, using their own men as shields.
Perfect. My one strike had drawn every eye.
I hadn’t used the technique to slaughter them—but to seize the right to speak.
That’s me: the kind of man who uses martial arts to claim the stage.
“Where’s Eun Guija Yoo Sa-cheong? Hiding, are you? And that bat-faced bastard, the Lord of the Wuak Sect—where are you? You’re hiding too. I hear that lunatic Lady Cheolseom with the throwing weapons joined you—ah, there you are. Listen well. I’m the one who killed the Vice-Master of the Cloud and Rain Society.”
I pointed past my men at Ilryong Old Army, who was glaring at me.
“And that old relic over there—remember this. You and all these fools are dying tonight because of that senile geezer who used to eat scraps from the Great Butcher’s table.”
Short and to the point.
Thus, I had provoked every leader in their ranks.
When chaos looms, provoking them first is best—because when people die, they blame their own side.
I drew my black blade, Heukmyo-ah. “What are you staring at, idiots? Come all at once.”
Behind me, a loud thud rang out—Dokgo Saeng, twin blades in hand, was plowing forward, cutting down everyone in his way. The Twelve Apostles charged next, and the Black Cat Hall warriors under So Gunpyeong pressed through from the rear.
I laughed, shoulders shaking. “The moon’s bright, my men are fierce, and I’m in a damn good mood.”
As I infused Heukmyo-ah with flame, the blade turned red. When I stepped forward, the rabble retreated. Their movements showed they were protecting their commanders.
I always watch the enemy’s state of mind. Every step, every word—psychological warfare.
“Step aside, small fry. I only kill the captains.”
I grinned and rushed forward. The underlings panicked and scattered, abandoning their posts.
Of course, I didn’t let them go.
I chased them down, slashing their backs, cutting them open like pigs in a butcher’s stall. Screams and shouts mixed in the night.
Behind me, Baek In’s calm voice commanded, “Hong, guard the rear. Cut down anyone who approaches the Senior. The Four Spirits—support him however you can.”
He had grasped my overall strategy.
From the distance, Dokgo Saeng’s voice roared above the chaos. “Boss, what about us?”
“Kill everyone,” he replied without missing a swing.
A scream tore the night immediately after. Nearby, So Gunpyeong was shouting curses at his subordinates—variations of “Get your heads straight!” echoing through the field.
I advanced, swinging Heukmyo-ah in simple motions to save energy. When the enemy retreats, the key is to push just a little faster. Killing fodder doesn’t drain much inner power, leaving my mouth free for nonsense.
“You had a bad feeling about today, didn’t you?”
I sliced one man’s shoulder.
Slash!
Then I beheaded another, leapt up, and drove my knee into someone’s face.
Thud!
“Did you think the Great Butcher’s death was your chance, huh?”
I buried my blade in his neck.
Stab!
As I withdrew it, blood sprayed over the crowd retreating before me.
“Why do you keep running?”
I sped up again, mixing sword swings with kicks and strikes, shouting all the while. Half the words I said made no sense, but that didn’t matter.
The point was to talk while killing—keeping the rhythm, keeping control of the flow. My men always knew where I was from the sound of my voice. We’d formed a natural wedge formation with me at the tip.
“Why do you think the Great Butcher died, you idiots? Why?”
I dragged a man in with the Absorbing Star Technique, grabbed his collar, and asked calmly, “Well? Why?”
Before he could answer, I bashed his forehead with my sword hilt.
Crack!
More of them stumbled backward, eyes wide. I deliberately targeted those visibly retreating.
“Answer me! Why did he die?”
Someone screamed “Aaaah!” and turned to flee. I mimicked his voice and shouted, “Aaaah!”
When all eyes turned to me, I exhaled over my blade, filling it with fire.
“Haa—hot and ready.”
The edge shimmered with crimson flame.
“Great Flame Rooster Blade Form.”
I’m the kind of man who shouts the name of his techniques while fighting.
It wasn’t much different from the Hand Seal—but to the enemy, the sight of that burning line trailing my sword was terrifying.
“Die.”
I lashed forward, scattering whip-like streams of fire. Each swing tore through four or five men at once. Laughing, I advanced; about a third of the enemy was already fleeing. Some who tried to run were decapitated by Master Su and Ilryong Old Army themselves.
I looked at Master Su and yelled, “Master Su!”
He glared at me, teeth bared.
“Why don’t you believe me? I killed your Vice-Master. Split skulls, right? With an axe, yeah?”
His face flushed red. “You lunatic…”
I walked toward him, blade dripping blood. “It was the axe from your crematorium, wasn’t it? I’m the one.”
His officers rushed to shield him. I charged straight through. I could hear them shouting—Ilryong Old Army’s calm tone cutting through the noise.
“Master Su, stay calm. We still outnumber them.”
Then came another voice—a woman’s. “Everyone, focus! That’s their leader!” Had to be Lady Cheolseom.
But Yoo Sa-cheong, the man I wanted most, remained silent.
While cutting down the officers, I asked, “Where’s that bastard Yoo Sa-cheong? Did he start all this?”
I sliced one man’s dagger in half, then his face. “Graaah!”
I buried my sword in his neck. “Yoo Sa-cheong! I’ll put a bounty on your head across all of Jianghu. Run today if you want, I’ll hunt you down for sport. And when I find you—I’ll split you with an axe.”
A massive wave of force suddenly surged from the left.
BOOOOM!
I countered with my own energy but was pushed sideways mid-swing— straight into the path of a flying meteor hammer.
I swung my blade, deflecting it, but the chain caught around my sword.
“Ah. The Meteor Vagabond. Nice to see you.”
Then something flashed—throwing knives from Lady Cheolseom. I flipped backward, dodged, and met Ilryong Old Army head-on as he unleashed waves of power. Cautious old man—attacking from afar but never daring to come close.
I laughed. “Old bastard.”
The chain on the meteor hammer suddenly snapped—Hong Shin had cut it with her dagger. I clashed once more with Ilryong Old Army’s energy, then grinned.
By now, Baek In, Cheong Jin, Baek Yu, and Hong Shin had fought their way through piles of corpses to rejoin me, forming a circle.
Sometimes a war ends in a single exchange; other times, like now, it drags into a tense stalemate.
During the lull, I adjusted my mask and surveyed the field. We’d started outnumbered, yet the bodies on the ground were all theirs.
Then Cha Sung-tae, who hadn’t managed to kill anyone, suddenly pointed at a man. “You there!”
Everyone looked his way. Cha said confidently, “You’re Yoo Sa-cheong, aren’t you?”
The man he pointed at looked ordinary—plain clothes, unremarkable face—and stared back without expression.
I wiped the blood off my sword. “Why him?”
Cha replied with grave certainty, “Because he’s doing nothing. In all this chaos.”
“A real detective, huh?”
I chuckled. “Even dung has its use. Good job.”
“Yes, sir.”
Despite our attention, the supposed Yoo Sa-cheong didn’t flinch. If he were just a lackey, he’d be trembling. But then he smiled—and that changed his entire face. He’d looked ordinary before, but now his presence twisted into something sharp.
“You’re not the real Black Cat Master,” he said. “Let’s see who unmasks the other first—you finding out who I am, or me finding out who you are. A name alone won’t find me. You’ve set the board—now keep fighting. We still need a conclusion, don’t we?”
He spoke like his true identity was something greater. Shockingly, he even turned on his allies.
“Ilryong Old Army. Master Su. You both took my money, and this is how you repay me? Weren’t you just boasting about conquering the Southern Plains, paying debts, and expanding your power?”
I almost tore off my mask right then—but stopped myself. This bastard…
Looking closely, he wasn’t as young as I first thought. Maybe over forty, his bearing and eyes showing real strength.
And even in the heat of it all, a thought crossed my mind—
—of all the scum in the world, the ones who lend money are the worst.
This wasn’t someone to kill quickly. No, he was someone to torture—someone to make sing.
No proof, no reason. Just instinct.
Yoo Sa-cheong, now revealed as the true commander, raised his hand and shouted, “Then let’s keep fighting till it’s settled, shall we, you vermin of the dark world?”