Just because the Black Sky Sword Sect Master had fallen did not mean the battle was over.

There were still survivors of the Black Sky Sword Sect remaining.

But the problem was that I had expended far too much strength fighting him.

I could still swing my sword a few more times, but cutting down two Peak Stage warriors would be difficult.

Perhaps realizing this, the warriors—who had been paralyzed in shock by the battle and frozen at the sight of their master's death—once again raised their swords.

"N-Now! Avenge the Sect Master!"

"Don't let him catch his breath! Even if you die, don’t die alone!"

"Tch. What a damn mess."

With a deep sigh, I quickly assessed the approaching enemies.

If this continued, it would turn into a grueling brawl.

But since I had already cut down the Sect Master with my sword, there was no need to engage them honorably.

Planting my sword into the ground, I reached into my robe and pulled out a small cylindrical container.

And then—

Puhwoong!

A loud explosion erupted, followed by a rain of countless black needle-like projectiles, engulfing the face of the nearest Peak Stage warrior.

The Ink-Smoke Needle Barrel—a hidden weapon launcher that used a small amount of gunpowder to fire a spread of deadly needles.

It was one of the self-defense tools I had received from Tang Jincheon before leaving the Tang Clan.

"W-What?!"

Panicked, the warrior swung his sword desperately, trying to deflect the oncoming projectiles—

But how could he possibly block so many of them with mere sword energy?

To counter something like the Ink-Smoke Needle Barrel, one had to either anticipate it and dodge preemptively or create a broad, extended sword energy barrier.

Unfortunately, he managed neither.

Needles embedded themselves into his flesh, and within moments, he collapsed, coughing up blood.

"Kuhuk!"

His complexion quickly turned a sickly shade of purple.

Of course, the needles alone had little killing power.

That’s why they were always coated in lethal poison.

The others stood frozen, watching him convulse.

Even though he was Peak Stage, it seemed he wouldn’t die instantly.

Perhaps, given time, he could expel the poison.

But for now, he wouldn’t be able to move, completely focused on circulating his energy to suppress the venom.

That left me with only one Peak Stage opponent to deal with.

I could likely handle one in my current state—

But if there was an easier way, why not take it?

Gripping my sword with one hand, I reached into my robes with the other and pulled out a fist-sized glass orb.

No need for precise throwing techniques—

I simply hurled it.

The moment it shattered, the toxic mist trapped inside would spread.

The poison inside was extremely potent, and due to its nature, it did not discriminate between friend and foe.

But thanks to Tang Sowol, I had developed an immunity to plant-based poisons through years of consuming Purple Flower Poison Enhancing Grass.

I had nothing to worry about.

With this, even the remaining first-class warriors would collapse.

Realizing that he was the only one left to face me, the last elder of the Black Sky Sword Sect clenched his jaw, veins bulging in his neck.

"Y-You…! How dare you call yourself a warrior, a swordsman, when you fight so disgracefully?!"

"And what’s so wrong with someone from the Tang Clan using hidden weapons and poison?"

I wasn’t even using any real assassination techniques or poison arts—

Just relying on external tools.

But those were still techniques of the Tang Clan.

And I was the Tang Clan’s son-in-law.

"If you have a problem with it, you should have prepared for it beforehand."

I smirked.

His trembling eyes were filled with fury—

But perhaps realizing that there was no way out of this alive, his gaze hardened with grim determination.

"Fine. Then bear witness to the final sword of the Black Sky Sword Sect—"

Puhk!

Before he could finish, something struck him like a hammerblow.

His body was flung backward, rolling across the ground.

His chest was caved in with a clear imprint of a fist.

A fatal strike.

I turned around in disbelief—

And there stood Seo Mun-Hwarin, fist clenched, lips tightly pressed together.

That last attack had been her Fist Wind.

For some reason, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

I tilted my head in confusion.

"Weren't you supposed to stay out of this?"

"This one changed her mind again."

"???"

Wait…

Could the Ironblood Hall Master really afford to be this fickle?

Though this worked in my favor, it was still baffling.

I turned to Sangwan-geuk, seeking an explanation.

He had already slung his twin spears back onto his back and was now walking toward us, chuckling.

"The only promise this one made was to let you go peacefully if you defeated the Black Sky Sword Sect."

"Lies! You promised to help our Sect Master and stop the White-Haired Rakshasa!"

A surviving first-class warrior from the Black Sky Sword Sect shouted in despair.

But Sangwan-geuk merely shrugged.

"And your Sect Master is dead. Why should I honor a deal with a dead man?"

Then, with a smirk, his lips curled in mockery.

A sneer, filled with contempt for the weak.

"Did you really think anything would change just because the White-Haired Rakshasa stood aside?"

The warrior fell silent, lips trembling.

Because deep down, he knew.

Even if she hadn’t interfered—

The outcome wouldn’t have changed.

His shoulders slumped—

Yet his eyes burned with seething resentment.

"My brother… was killed by the White-Haired Rakshasa."

"And this one’s brother also perished at the hands of the Black Sky Sword Sect."

"Even knowing it is meaningless… I cannot stop myself."

"Do you think this one is any different?"

Seo Mun-Hwarin let out a scoff, lowering her stance as if ready to unleash another Fist Wind.

Sensing what she was about to do, I quickly stepped between her and the surviving warriors.

"Ah! Move aside! Don't tell me you're trying to protect them?!"

She stomped her foot in frustration, but I simply shook my head.

"Have you forgotten?"

"Forgotten what?"

"I was the one who said I would annihilate the Black Sky Sword Sect."

"That’s—"

Before she could argue, I threw the glass orb in my left hand.

Crash!

The toxic mist spread instantly.

Some of the remaining warriors tried to resist by covering their mouths and circulating their inner energy—

But none of them fled.

Even as blood dripped from their eyes, noses, and mouths, they charged at me.

Most collapsed before they could even reach me—

But a few managed to swing their swords.

Their attacks lacked strength, lacked even proper weight.

I easily dodged and deflected them, swiftly ending their suffering.

The last warrior, even in his dying moments, clutched my blade with his bare hands, his grip tightening as blood dripped from his palms.

Between ragged breaths, he coughed up blood—

And with his final ounce of strength, he spoke.

"Curse you…"

"Do as you wish."

"But… I understand why you hate us."

"What?"

That was unexpected.

My body tensed involuntarily.

His fading eyes met mine as he continued.

"I saw your hatred. I felt its weight. I always knew that those we wronged could hate us as much as we hated them… but only in theory."

"And now? Are you seeking forgiveness?"

"Hardly. I only hope… that one day, your own sins will crush you."

"Hah."

With those final words, his head slumped forward.

I scoffed.

What nonsense.

"I’ve known that for a long time."

Before my regression, as the Sword Demon, I had cut down every last member of the Black Sky Sword Sect.

How many people must have considered me their mortal enemy?

Perhaps one day, just as that dying man had cursed, I too would fall victim to the endless cycle of vengeance.

But in the end, the force that had come for me had not been my own karma—

It had been something else entirely.

A monster that turned all the grudges of Murim into nothing more than ancient, petty feuds.

The greatest being of all time—

The Heavenly Demon.

"I wonder if such a day will ever truly come."

If I were to die at the Heavenly Demon’s hands again in this life, then all the grudges I had accumulated would scatter into meaninglessness.

And if I were to defeat the Heavenly Demon, I would stand as the greatest under the heavens—

In which case, there would be no one left to enact their vengeance upon me.

Either way, my grudge against the Black Sky Sword Sect ended today.

For now, that was enough.

"Huu…"

Turning back one last time, I looked toward the warrior who had been struck by my Ink-Smoke Needle Barrel.

But all that remained was a lifeless corpse, its head bowed in silent defeat.

It seemed that, while trying to expel the poison from the needles, he had been overwhelmed by the additional toxins in the Poison Mist—

His insides had likely melted from within.

"Is it truly over?"

Seo Mun-Hwarin approached, speaking cautiously.

I nodded.

"For now, it seems so."

"Then stand still."

With a self-assigned ‘permission to approach,’ she moved closer, struggling to support me with her small frame.

It was only a slight improvement—

But standing became just a little bit easier.

I glanced at her in mild surprise, but she was too focused on assessing my injuries, sweat beading on her brow.

"Your external wounds are severe, but your internal injuries are even worse. Your blood pathways are in shambles, and your dantian is twisted… You’ll need a long time to recover."

"Well, as long as I have time, I’ll heal."

"Do you even know how many years that might take?!"

"It won’t take years."

Although I had modified it extensively, the Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art was fundamentally a flawed technique.

Its foundation was unstable—

It sacrificed the stability that came from pure refinement in favor of sheer destructive power, incorporating elements of Explosive Blood Technique.

Every change I made had been tested on my own body.

Naturally, over time, I had learned the least deadly ways to injure myself—

And, more importantly, the quickest ways to recover.

I wasn’t sure about the external wounds, but the internal damage?

Three months, at most.

I was debating whether to explain this to Seo Mun-Hwarin—

When suddenly, Sangwan-geuk, who had been watching the battle with satisfaction, tossed a small pouch toward me.

"Catch."

"This is…?"

I opened the pouch to find it filled with small medicinal pills.

A strong herbal scent wafted out as I loosened the drawstrings.

"It’s a special internal injury remedy used by the Black Lotus Sect. It has almost no effect on boosting inner energy, but it’s excellent for healing. Made by Golden Venom Physician himself, so you can trust it."

"Golden Venom Physician?!"

Seo Mun-Hwarin's eyes widened in shock.

Well, it made sense.

The Golden Venom Physician was infamous—

A man who always wore extravagant golden robes to hide his protruding belly.

A peculiar healer who treated anyone, regardless of righteousness or villainy—

As long as they had the money.

His fees were outrageously high, and his refusal to treat those who couldn’t pay made him a controversial figure—

But no one doubted his skill.

Still…

"I appreciate it, but why are you giving this to me?"

"Shouldn’t you check if it’s actually from the Golden Venom Physician first?"

"They say even a village dog can recite poetry after three years in a school. I've lived in the Tang Clan for three years—so at the very least, I can tell the difference between medicine and poison."

"Oh?"

In truth, I wasn’t suspicious because I had seen Sangwan-geuk purchase medicine from the Golden Venom Physician in my past life.

He often handed out medicine to those he favored, using it to win over promising individuals.

And even if he did try to poison me—

I had the best antidotes from the Tang Clan.

As I stared at Sangwan-geuk, my body weary yet steady, his expression shifted.

A glimmer of goodwill—

And beneath it, a persistent, calculating greed.

"You really are something. What was your name again? Cheon… Cheon Ho?"

"Cheon Hwi."

"Right, Cheon Hwi. Here, take this too."

From his robes, he pulled out an ornate token—

Black lacquered ivory with golden engravings.

Prominently etched in red were the characters: (Black Lotus Sect Master).

…Wait, what?

I knew Sangwan-geuk was always looking for talent, but I never expected him to hand me a Lotus Lord's Token—

Especially when I was someone from the orthodox faction.

"That’s a Lotus Lord’s Token. If you present it at the main headquarters of the Black Lotus Sect, they’ll treat you as an honored guest. You can visit whenever you like… though you won’t be able to leave again."

"…Excuse me?"

"Just once. If you bring that token to the Black Lotus Sect, I’ll grant you any request within my power. But after that day, you’ll belong to my sect—you’ll be my subordinate."

It was a bold offer.

One that clearly displeased Seo Mun-Hwarin.

"No! Throw it away immediately! This one will grant you anything you ask—so throw that token away at once! It reeks!"

She slapped my wrist as if I were holding something filthy.

But I knew exactly how valuable this was.

I had no intention of joining the Black Lotus Sect—

But one could never predict the future.

It was always wise to have a backup plan.

Avoiding her flailing hands, I tucked the token into my robes and clasped my hands in a respectful salute.

"Thank you for the token and the medicine. I can’t promise I’ll ever accept your offer—but I do appreciate the gesture."

"Heh. That’s enough for now. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you for a long time to come."

With that, Sangwan-geuk turned and began retracing his steps.

"I have other gifts for you… but let’s save those for later. For now, enjoy your victory."

Without a backward glance, he left.

Seo Mun-Hwarin watched him go, her expression sour—

But she quickly sighed and softened her tone.

"This one has much to say about you accepting that token… but I shall postpone it for now. First, we need to find a place to rest and recover."

"If we check into an inn and wait, the Murim Alliance will come find us eventually. I’ll let them handle the rest of my treatment."

I leaned slightly against her for support, preparing to head toward the nearest village.

But then—

I suddenly stopped in my tracks.

"What is it now?"

"We should take what’s worth taking."

Lying on the ground was the Black Sky Sword Sect Master’s sword—

Its sleek, black blade completely unscathed, despite the intense battle.

"Solid Black Iron?"

I didn’t care for the man—

But a fine sword had done no wrong.