Tap— Tatatat— Tap—!

Who would have ever imagined someone could use Lightfoot Techniques while stepping on silver thread?

It was just thread.

Delicate strands fluttering in the air.

Even if they had enough tensile strength to cut through human flesh—still, at the end of the day...

“...!”

What Yeongwol saw in her final moment was Seolhwa, sword twisting in her grip, silhouetted against the massive moon in the sky.

Slaaash—!

“No!!”

Seolhwa landed safely on the ground.

She stared at the dead Yeongwol with an indifferent gaze—someone who had died without even realizing it.

Targeting Yeongwol in that final moment had been part of Seolhwa’s plan.

Up until now, she had pretended to focus her attacks on Huiwol in order to lower Yeongwol’s guard—only to ultimately slice through Yeongwol’s neck.

In a battle of strategy, when at a disadvantage, the most basic principle was to eliminate the weaker opponent first to reduce the number of enemies one had to face.

That was one of the very first things taught in the Blood Demon Cult.

Which meant Yeongwol should have been prepared to be the one targeted first.

Ssshhhk—! KWAANG—!

Seolhwa knocked aside the object flying toward her.

It struck with such force that her sword visibly trembled.

Despite both using silver thread, fighting in perfect coordination, and even being twins—there was a reason one of them was the Seventh Moon, and the other the Ninth.

The answer was clear.

Huiwol was stronger than Yeongwol.

Shhhk—

Seolhwa’s gaze turned to the thread retracting into Huiwol’s hand.

At the end of the thread now dangled a small weight, no larger than two fingers.

It was a single-flow meteor weapon (danyuseong), used by Huiwol when fighting alone.

“You... I’ll kill you...”

Tears flowed from Huiwol’s eyes.

The shock and sorrow of losing her other half had transmuted into pure rage that now consumed her entirely.

Whooooooo—

A dark crimson aura erupted from Huiwol’s body like a geyser. She did not stop there—she pulled out several pills and threw them all into her mouth.

Seolhwa frowned.

Crunch, crunch, crack...

What she had swallowed were three Bloodburst Pills—the same kind the Yellow Dragon Lord had used.

“...So you really plan to die?”

Taking three Bloodburst Pills at once would overstress the heart—she would almost certainly die.

“I do not care! As long as I can kill you...! Who gives a damn about side effects?!”

KRAAAAA—!!

Huiwol’s energy exploded in an instant.

Her original cultivation was Peak Realm. Not stronger than Seolhwa.

But now, having consumed three Bloodburst Pills, her energy had surged to the extreme peak of Transcendent Peak Realm.

Sssswhhhk—!

With overwhelming force, Huiwol swung the weighted thread.

With a sound like the air itself tearing apart, the weight streaked toward Seolhwa at blinding speed.

KWAANG—!

“Kh...!”

Seolhwa just barely twisted away from the weight’s path.

The destructive power packed into the weight was monstrous.

Boom! KWAANG! Boom! Boom! Boom!

With every flick of Huiwol’s hand, the weight seemed to attack on its own, as if it had a will.

The silver thread that rippled along with the weight became even sharper—sharp enough to slice flesh with the slightest touch.

KANG! KWA-KANG! KANG!

The attacks came fast—and each blow was crushing.

Whenever Seolhwa tried to widen the distance, Huiwol caught up faster.

Whenever she tried to close in, Huiwol retreated even faster.

In the chaos of the relentless onslaught, Seolhwa found herself surrounded by the rippling, snaking silver threads.

Then—Huiwol’s attacks suddenly stopped.

Panting, Seolhwa stared at the threads encircling her.

“...It should have been like this from the start.”

Red tears, even darker than her crimson eyes, spilled down Huiwol’s cheeks.

She raised the hand controlling the threads toward Seolhwa.

Seeing that movement, Seolhwa gripped her sword with grim resolve.

“You’re not actually planning to block this, are you? That little sword aura of yours is not going to cut my threads, you idiot! Aahahaha!”

“...”

“Pathetic! Absolutely pathetic! Hahahahaha!!”

Ha ha ha, hahahahaha!

Huiwol’s mad laughter mocked Seolhwa’s final struggle.

And then—

CRACK—!

A flash of white energy burst around Seolhwa.

With her eyes closed, Seolhwa focused the energy pooled in her dantian.

As though she were compressing intangible smoke with sheer force, she concentrated all her power into a single point.

The red aura that had shimmered like heat around her sword now began to gather tightly.

Then—it became visible to the naked eye as it coiled and danced along her blade.

“...Aha... ha...”

Huiwol’s laughter quickly died.

‘Sword ki...?’

Sword ki...?

Was she actually manifesting sword ki?

Was Tower Master’s martial prowess truly at the Transcendent Peak Realm?

She had never heard it was that high!

‘But it’s already too late!’

Huiwol urgently moved her hand.

With a clenched fist, she commanded the silver threads surrounding Seolhwa to contract all at once.

The Tower Master would soon be torn to pieces by the threads, her body shredded beyond recognition.

“Goodbye, Tower Master.”

Shrrrrr—!

The threads began to close in just as Seolhwa opened her eyes.

A flicker of white light danced in her crimson gaze.

‘Third Style of the Latter Three Forms of the Grand Evolution Sword Art: Grand Evolution Tempest!’

And then—

‘Thunder and Wind Sword—the Thunder and Wind God’s secret technique!’

Seolhwa fused the essences of two sword arts.

She imagined the vast grandeur of the heavens within the Grand Evolution Sword Art and blended it with the raw destructive force of the Thunder and Wind Sword.

Drawing forth every last bit of internal power she could muster, and conjuring the memories of her previous life, Seolhwa unleashed the sword technique clad in ki.

The energy of the sky—infused with the power of thunder and lightning.

She had once practiced this blend with Seop Mugwang during training, so the internal flow came more naturally.

But this—this was a different kind of energy than the thunder-wreathed aura that had surrounded Seop Mugwang.

Something new.

And suddenly, Seolhwa understood.

She understood something.

It felt as if she could faintly see the path she needed to take.

She had not grasped it with her hands, but it was as though she could see the destination just ahead—one she would soon reach.

Shwshwshwshwk—!

The silver threads that had been closing in on Seolhwa were instantly cut into dozens of pieces.

Powerless fragments of thread fluttered lightly through the air.

Seolhwa lifted her gaze and looked at Huiwol.

Huiwol stood there trembling, staring at her as if she could not believe what she was seeing.

“Th-That’s... impossible...”

Tap—!

Seolhwa rushed toward Huiwol.

Panicking, Huiwol staggered backward, hastily manipulating the severed silver thread.

But—

Shhk— Shhk—

With each swing of Seolhwa’s sword, the silver thread was sliced apart and scattered.

As the thread shortened, the distance between Seolhwa and Huiwol closed as well.

Cold sweat streamed down Huiwol’s face as she stared at the drifting fragments of silver thread.

Shhk—

“Th-This is...”

Shhk—

“This... wasn’t...”

Shhk—

“Supposed to...”

Shhk.

Before she knew it, Seolhwa had arrived directly in front of her.

“Da...”

Huiwol locked eyes with the grim specter of death now looming over her.

The Tower Master of Hwaoru—without blood or tears.

The top assassin of Hwaoru.

In the deep red of Seolhwa’s eyes, Huiwol saw herself—hunched, trembling like a young fawn.

Slaaash—

The ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) young fawn’s neck and body twisted into an unnatural shape.

In the instant she died, Huiwol thought that her death resembled that of her twin sister Yeongwol, who had perished before her.

Yes... in the end, we were meant to be one.

Her breath stopped.

Thump.

“Hah... Haaah...”

Seolhwa looked down at Huiwol’s corpse, who had died with a faint smile lingering on her lips.

Sweat—or perhaps blood—trickled down her jaw, and she wiped it away with her sleeve.

And with that, both the Seventh Moon and the Ninth Moon were dead.

Huiwol and Yeongwol were ones who should have died before the Blood Demon Cult had ever begun its rise—but in her past life, they were the very ones who had killed Seop Mugwang.

Now that they were dead—

‘He must be alive now.’

Is he all right?

Was he badly injured?

Had he met up with the Black Cloud Gang?

Leaving the corpses of Huiwol and Yeongwol behind, Seolhwa began walking again.

Having pushed her internal energy to its very limit while facing two Moons, exhaustion now pressed in on her.

‘Fifth Blood Lord... What happened with the Fifth Blood Lord?’

If it were Namgoong Mucheon—if it were Grandfather—then he must have defeated the Fifth Blood Lord.

Even if the Fifth Blood Lord had used the Reversing Heaven Blood Flow Grand Art, she would not have been able to close the gap with Namgoong Mucheon.

‘By now, the hypnotized ones should have been dealt with to some degree...’

It was then.

Thoom— With a thundering sensation, the world was suddenly swallowed in darkness.

The fine hairs on her body stood on end, and her breath caught in her throat.

Her heart began pounding rapidly.

Her entire body froze as though bound by invisible chains, unable to move.

Seolhwa felt it—vividly.

Some vast being was watching her from within the pitch-black void.

****

Slaaash—!

“Grahhh!!”

Nomun staggered back, clutching his left shoulder, and glared at Namgoong Mucheon.

Blood dripped from Namgoong Mucheon’s sword.

It was the very blade that had taken Nomun’s left arm.

“I told you. No matter how desperately you thrash, you are still just a child to me.”

“Kuh...”

“I always knew you were a rude bastard. But when did you stop even trying to be human? Were you not at least serious when it came to matters of your sect?”

“...Heh. That is none of your concern, senior.”

“I am not asking because I care. Someone kept pleading with me not to kill you, so I decided to give you a chance.”

“...?”

Nomun turned his gaze toward the presence that had been irritating him for some time now.

Leaning against a large tree, breathing as if on the verge of death but still staring at him with unwavering eyes—was No Un.

The Sect Leader of Mount Hua. His own senior disciple-brother.

That gaze was no longer simply desperate—it burned with such intensity that even through the grotesque boils covering his face, the fierce gleam of his pupils shone clearly.

But Nomun merely scoffed at it.

“A chance? Are you saying you would forgive me if I had a good enough reason for what I became? You sound just like a pathetic Daoist.”

“I think so as well.”

No Un turned to Namgoong Mucheon.

In Namgoong Mucheon’s eyes, blue light flickered.

“Whatever your reason may be—do not speak it.”

As Mucheon raised his sword and assumed his stance, the very air around them shifted with the force of his energy.

“To the one who drove his fellow disciples and juniors to death—what reason could ever be justified?”