"Ta-aaaah!"
Jongli Hyeong swiftly retreated, slicing through the throat of the enemy with a single stroke.
The heavy sensation lingering on the tip of his sword left a profound impression even on his fingertips.
Although it wasn't an emotion he dared to acknowledge, the act of severing the throats of enemies seemed to relieve the pent-up tension in his heart that had accumulated over time.
"Just these kinds of people...!"
Daring to attach the word "just" to the Four Tyrants Alliance under heaven might seem audacious, but they were proving it right now. The Nine Sects and One Union were more than enough to face the Four Tyrants Alliance.
Looking at the enemies retreating with pale faces, Jongli Hyeong felt both relieved and a renewed sense of anger.
"You dare to rampage as if you're something special!"
His lightning-fast sword pierced through the throats of the retreating foes one after another.
"Kuk!"
They fell like rotten straw, unable to utter a proper scream, and Jongli Hyeong roughly wiped the blood from his sword.
"What have we been doing all this time!"
Indeed, the enemies they had faced so far were mostly like this.
A pack of jackals. While threatening in numbers and intimidating enough to drive away even a tiger, individually, they were nothing but wretched creatures.
That's why they trembled in fear before him now.
Those who had nothing to rely on but their numbers became worthless trash the moment they lost that advantage.
"Was this all we were up against!"
With frustration evident, Jongli Hyeong's sword shot forward once again.
Once again piercing through the throats of the evil sect members, Jongli Hyeong sharply surveyed the front.
"My vision was clouded."
Of course, it might be excessive to say that they feared the Four Tyrants Alliance under heaven, but there was indeed a sense of unease.
Admittedly, the Four Tyrants Alliance had the qualifications for that.
But in this moment, facing their true selves with his sword, Jongli Hyeong realized this simple fact once again.
Until now, the Nine Sects had never directly confronted the Four Tyrants Alliance head-on.
Even during the horrific Yangtze River Disaster and on Plum Blossom Island, even in Nanjing and Sichuan, the Nine Sects had always been led into battle where their enemies wanted them to fight.
Forcing the most difficult enemy to fight where they struggled the most.
Even if they wanted to lose, they were already set up to win against them.
This was undoubtedly due to the power of the Four Tyrants Alliance, or rather, the strategic prowess of Jang Ilso.
But in other words, the Four Tyrants Alliance's strength in a place where Jang Ilso's strategies couldn't be employed was nothing more than a multitude of evil sect martial arts.
"Abbot!"
Beok Jeong knew this.
There were no cliffs Jang Ilso could use here, no Yangtze River to trap his enemies. There were no river bandits' warships, just wide plains.
If that was the case, then wouldn't victory be certain?
The Myriad Man House, the Black Ghost Fort, they might seem impressive at first glance. But upon closer inspection, the Myriad Man House was nothing more than a slightly powerful evil sect in Guizhou, and the Black Ghost Fort was just a coalition formed on the basis of wealth.
If the Nine Sects could properly engage them, why should they fear the Four Tyrants Alliance?
Jongli Hyeong tightened his grip on his prized weapon.
Although he didn't want to admit it, his hidden fear had disappeared.
And in its place came a sense of reward for the time spent crouching. Even the ambition that had been suppressed surged forth.
Victory was already assured.
So, which sect would receive the most praise after this victory? Which sect would claim the most glory?
With all this in mind, was it Shaolin that orchestrated everything?
"...Maybe it won't necessarily be that way."
Jongli Hyeong's eyes gleamed like a hawk targeting its prey.
If there was a brilliant strategy in this war, if there was a miraculous victory amidst this fierce battle, then perhaps it could be so.
But if it wasn't such a situation, then surely the elders would turn their attention to something else.
The thing everyone was most curious about.
The thing that would garner the highest praise. The most valuable thing that had guided the direction of wars since ancient times.
Jongli Hyeong's burning gaze focused on one person.
Behind the curtain of people spread out before him, there stood a man dressed more splendidly than anyone else.
Jang Ilso's neck.
The world would surely seek confirmation.
Which sect, which person would hold that neck high in triumph? Who would end this long war by severing that neck? Who would rescue the Central Plains from the demonic grasp of that person?
It could be an achievement that would be recounted for ten years. No, for at least a hundred years, perhaps even more.
At this moment, Jongli Hyeong's sword was asking him.
Would he miss this golden opportunity? What was the reason for honing his sword all this time?
Some might call this ambition or greed.
"Haaaah!"
*Bang!*
Jongli Hyeong's sword shot out like a beam of light. The confident tip of his sword pierced through the hearts of the enemies with precision.
"No! This isn't ambition or greed."
Jang Ilso was causing chaos in the world, and someone had to sever that person's neck. This was an undeniable truth.
Who could say that Jongli Hyeong didn't have the qualifications for that!
Just because Shaolin had led everyone here didn't mean they were the only ones qualified to end Jang Ilso's reign.
Rather, wouldn't the one who debated those qualifications here, without any concern for the security of under heaven, be the one truly captivated by righteousness?
Jongli Hyeong's eyes grew increasingly red.
There he was, dressed in crimson robes, exuding such splendor that one couldn't look away. He was right there, within reach.
"Break through! Advance! We will be the ones to sever the Tyrant's neck!"
With all the suppressed emotions bursting forth, Jongli Hyeong began to draw upon his internal strength as much as possible.
"Taaaah!"
A roar echoed. It was not the sound of a sword swinging, but rather the sound of a drawn bowstring reaching its limit.
With one stroke, Peng Yeob severed the enemy's waist, staring fiercely ahead.
Victory? That's not enough.
More was needed. More!
He needed to completely solidify his position. He needed achievements that would silence the elders who still looked at him with suspicion.
"Older brother."
Peng Yeob's brother was arrogant. No one doubted that he was the talent that would illuminate the family. He was more of a Peng Family member than anyone else. That was Peng Yeob's brother.
In contrast, Peng Yeob was not like that.
His innate cautious nature branded him as "not quite Peng Family material" like a mark.
It was difficult to change innate qualities.
Even when he pretended to be reckless, honed his martial arts skills, or discussed overbearingness, the label of "not quite Peng Family material" stuck with him like a stigma.
"Damn it!"
His brother's arrogance turned into tyranny, pressuring the elders, even when they reached out to Peng Yeob to help them escape the crisis of losing their authority.
Even when Peng Yeob, who had joined forces with them, pushed his brother aside and ascended to the position of family lord.
The elders always doubted Peng Yeob because he was "not quite Peng Family material."
Peng Yeob is no longer needed by them. He was just a defective item they temporarily used. So, when his usefulness is over, he must return to being a useless defective item.
Perhaps they are already looking for someone to replace Peng Yeob. Someone who is more Peng Family-like, possessing that damn arrogance.
Do I regret it?
No.
There's no room for regret. Even if Peng Zishu, whom he cast aside and turned into a pauper, is his own brother. Even if his brother, who used to cherish Peng Yeob more than his own father, looked at him with full trust, believing that his brother would never betray him, even at the very end.
*Woosh*
Peng Yeob's sword swung roughly. It didn't just cut through the enemy's body; it crushed it. It was incredibly powerful, unbelievably swift.
But now Peng Yeob understands. In a world where strength is everything, there are things that cannot be achieved with strength alone.
"I didn't want to become the family lord."
'I just wanted to prove myself. I wanted to prove that I was someone who could be the family lord of the Peng Family. Someone who had the potential to be a greater family lord than my brother.
But no one recognized me. No one acknowledged me.
So I don't regret it. Even though what I had to discard for the sake of proving myself was too great, I will never regret it.'
"I wasn't wrong."
'Even if I could go back, my choice would remain the same. I must be right. If I wasn't right, then everything I've done would be invalidated.'
That's why it was rather glorious.
The enemy's harbinger, the demon of Guizhou, the king south of the river...
No words could fully describe the person Peng Yeob saw in front of him.
In Peng Yeob's eyes right now, that man looked like a ripe red fruit.
It must be obtained. It must be obtained by any means necessary.
And then, no one would be able to deny him. Everything he had done would be justified, and it would be a decisive act for the well-being of the Martial Arts World.
Even now, the lackeys of the Peng Family, who are lounging safely in Beijing, would have to bow their heads in front of his brilliant achievements.
"Ah...."
Peng Yeob's hand reached out towards Jang Ilso, who stood far away.
An unquenchable thirst, unrivaled by anything else.
The only one who could satisfy it was right there.
The presence that would elevate Peng Yeob from being a miserable figure hiding behind the authority of Beok Jeong to being a proud family lord of the Peng Family, a great hero.
If only...if only he could get his hands on that neck!
"Kill him!"
A roar erupted from Peng Yeob's mouth.
"Aaah!"
With all his might, he wielded his sword, advancing towards Jang Ilso.
The evil sects blocking his path to Jang Ilso were massacred in an instant.
Blood sprayed like a torrent.
Normally, he might have frowned at the disgust, but Peng Yeob felt nothing now. No, at this moment, the hot and bitter blood pouring over his face felt strangely sweet and intoxicating.
"Kill them!"
Perhaps this was evidence that even he had Peng Family blood flowing thickly in his veins.
"Kill them all! Don't leave a single one blocking our path alive!"
Peng Yeob moved towards the dazzling light that bore the name of Jang Ilso. Towards the brilliance that he rightfully deserved.