The Demonic Supreme Sword Novel - Chapter 65

Chapter 65
## Chapter 65: Living Immortal Medical House (2)

As he approached the primary entrance, the cacophony of the front lines—a chaotic symphony of screams and steel unique to a place where life and death collide—rushed to meet him.

“Huu.”

Thunderbolt came to a halt, exhaling a heavy, ragged breath.

While many allies had arrived to defend the Living Immortal Medical House, he was under no illusions. He understood perfectly that crossing the threshold of that gate meant certain death.

For a brief interval, he wavered.

He carried a vital burden, and he wondered if his disappearance might actually relieve the siege on the Living Immortal Medical House. Would they stop if he wasn’t there?

“As if they would.”

He dismissed the thought with a self-deprecating snort.

The enemy had maintained a deceptively low profile until now, but if he vanished, the Living Immortal Medical House would be left to face the undiluted malice of the Heavenly Demon Cult alone. Given that the Divine Demon Division lived by a code of returning kindness tenfold and vengeance a hundredfold, he couldn’t simply walk away.

‘How much time can I buy?’

His physical state was a wreck, nowhere near its prime. Even the simplest motion caused cold perspiration to break out across his skin. Simply drawing his blade a few times would require him to gamble his very soul.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Thunderbolt began to circulate his internal energy.

The flow originated in his dantian, sluggishly migrating through his limbs.

It was a flickering candle compared to the bonfire of his peak strength—dangerously unstable.

When his eyelids finally snapped open, a sharp light flickered in his gaze, and his body blurred forward like a shooting star.

With a few explosive steps, he cleared the gate. In the clearing, he saw a comrade collapsed on one knee, sword raised in a desperate, failing guard. Looming over the youth was a cyclopean warrior letting out a roar of triumph as he prepared the finishing strike.

“Die!”

The one-eyed attacker—Wi Hyeong, the Loyal Demon Division’s Third Captain—brought his blade down to execute the stubborn brat.

In that heartbeat, the survival instincts Thunderbolt had forged in a thousand battles shrieked a desperate alarm.

A murderous presence was closing in.

Wi Hyeong didn’t have time to process the threat; he simply wrenched his body aside.

He was a fraction too slow. A burning agony ripped through his side. The intensity of the pain signaled a deep, serious laceration.

“Well, Cyclops. It’s been a while.”

The voice drifting from his rear caused Wi Hyeong’s scarred features to contort further.

Slowly, Wi Hyeong turned, his mouth twisting into a venomous grin.

“I see you’re still breathing, Thunderbolt.”

“Pure luck. I nearly bit the dust thanks to that moron Yang So.”

Wi Hyeong, who shared a deep bond with Yang So, felt a murderous fire ignite in his eyes.

“That’s right. You’re going to pay for what happened to my brother Yang So as well.”

“Pay? Don’t make me laugh. You cowards used to be afraid to even meet my eyes.”

Thunderbolt gave a mocking laugh, setting his sword at a sharp angle.

He tried to project an air of relaxed confidence, but he couldn’t prevent the slight quivering at the tip of his weapon. Wi Hyeong’s eyes narrowed as he caught the weakness.

“I’m not pathetic enough to let a half-dead rat get the better of me.”

With that retort, Wi Hyeong’s blade whipped forward with blinding speed.

Thunderbolt pushed the agony in his side to the back of his mind.

He looked like a ghost, pale and teetering on the edge of a blackout, but he knew that worrying about his survival would ensure his defeat. He had to give everything.

Wi Hyeong’s steel came crashing down. Curiously, Thunderbolt remained motionless—simply observing with hollow, focused eyes.

‘Just one opening.’

Wi Hyeong was one of the Loyal Demon Division’s finest. If Thunderbolt were healthy, it wouldn’t be a contest—but now?

‘Sacrifice the flesh to take the bone.’

He only had enough strength for one or two genuine strikes. He couldn’t survive a war of attrition.

As Thunderbolt shifted to dodge, a slight hesitation caught him—Wi Hyeong’s face lit up with a victor’s smirk. In a duel of milliseconds, that stutter was a death sentence. Thunderbolt’s timing was ruined.

Wi Hyeong adjusted his swing mid-air to follow the movement.

The fact that he could redirect such a powerful blow so precisely spoke volumes of his prowess.

‘I have you!’

Wi Hyeong felt the satisfying resistance of steel meeting meat.

The Divine Demon Division’s reputation was like an unbreakable fortress. Taking down a high-level master like Thunderbolt would be the hammer blow that shattered that myth.

The joy was short-lived.

Even as he felt his blade sink deep into Thunderbolt’s torso, a beam of light lunged toward him.

By the time Wi Hyeong registered the counter, it was already slicing across his throat. It was a speed that bypassed all defense, even when anticipated.

Remembering that Thunderbolt was the premier swift-sword master of the Divine Demon Division, Wi Hyeong realized too late that he had been baited by a mask of frailty.

‘What a fool…’

Regret is a luxury of the living.

A crimson line traced itself across Wi Hyeong’s neck, and droplets of blood began to seep out. A moment later, his head slid from his shoulders, and his body collapsed into the dirt.

“Idiots. You call him a friend, yet you’re just as stupid as he was.”

Thunderbolt spat the words out, wobbling before regaining his footing.

“That was too close.”

He looked down and winced at the blade lodged near his heart, just barely missing the vital organ. A few millimeters to the left and he would have died before he could even finish the swing.

Leaving the sword buried in his chest, Thunderbolt forced himself forward. He held Wi Hyeong’s severed head toward the sky, his eyes wide and fierce.

“I am Thunderbolt of the Divine Demon Division!”

The roar, fueled by the last of his internal reserves, rolled across the battlefield. The sounds of combat ceased instantly, as if a spell had been cast.

“He has surrendered himself—everyone, cease your attack.”

The elder in black robes pulled his blade back from his clash with Namgung Kyung.

Namgung Kyung backed away, trying to catch his ragged breath, his expression clouded with frustration.

They had drawn their weapons to shield the failing Living Immortal Medical House. With Thunderbolt stepping out, the justification for their intervention had evaporated.

The members of the Living Immortal Medical House realized this as well. They couldn’t simply run, but they were trapped in an impossible position.

“Why did you do something so reckless?”

Hwang Jin, the Leader of the Breathing Guard Hall, sprinted to Thunderbolt’s side, his voice thick with concern.

Hwang Jin looked terrible—he had been holding off the Loyal Demon Leader’s relentless assault. His attire was shredded, covered in grime, and fresh blood dripped from a dozen different wounds.

“You saved my life; that’s more than enough. I won’t let the Living Immortal Medical House suffer any more for my sake.”

“But…”

“This is an internal matter for our cult.”

Fearing they might stubbornly persist, Thunderbolt drew a line: this was Heavenly Demon Cult business.

“You’re smarter than you look.”

Ma Gong Ho stepped into the light, a cruel sneer plastered on his face. He was drenched in more blood than any man present, his form shimmering a grisly red.

He looked over his shoulder; the black-robed elder, still watching Namgung Kyung, gave a subtle nod of approval.

Finding himself in total control, Ma Gong Ho’s voice boomed with arrogance.

“The rat has finally emerged—proving that the Living Immortal Medical House was lying about his condition. We will let that slide. However, as the boy said, this is a cult affair. Everyone else, leave. If you don’t…”

Ma Gong Ho trailed off, his gaze lingering on the household members and the gathered heroes. His sheer killing intent and confidence forced them to flinch.

It wasn’t surprising. They had started with some small victories, but the full might of the Heavenly Demon Cult was terrifying. Most of the defenders had been cut down easily.

Only the elites—Namgung Kyung, the Eccentric Wanderers, and the Breathing Guard Hall—had managed to hold the line for the Living Immortal Medical House. But after an hour of slaughter, the field was drowning in despair.

The eyes of the survivors turned toward the house, specifically toward Hwang Jin, who had spearheaded the defense.

Feeling the weight of their gaze, Hwang Jin’s jaw set firmly. Thunderbolt had given them an honorable way out, and the cult was willing to accept it. Yet, his pride wouldn’t let him move. He had harbored a delusional hope that they could actually win.

[Will you sacrifice all these lives just to save the reputation of your house?]

Dong Mo, a guest of the house and close confidant of Hall Leader Hwang Seung, sent a sharp message via internal transmission.

Hwang Jin turned with a low moan. Dong Mo appeared—one arm was missing and he was covered in gore, yet he stood tall with dignity. He was advocating for a retreat, not out of cowardice, but out of wisdom.

Seeing that the advice came from a place of genuine concern for the survivors, Hwang Jin bit his lip.

“Everyone, fall back.”

Audible sighs of relief rippled through the ranks of those who feared he would lead them to a massacre.

Following Hwang Jin’s command, the Breathing Guard Hall retreated in lockstep. The lingering heroes followed suit, slipping away into the shadows.

Ma Gong Ho watched them leave with a look of smug satisfaction, then turned his attention back to Thunderbolt, his grin widening.

Drained by the single exchange with Wi Hyeong, Thunderbolt was struggling to even remain upright, let alone defend himself.

“The slippery little rat is finally trapped.”

“Save it. Just get on with it.”

“Oh, I will. Even if you beg for mercy. But first, give back what you stole.”

Thunderbolt thought of the object tucked against his chest.

It was a simple iron ring, about the thickness of a finger and as long as a palm. Yet, it was a holy relic of the Heavenly Demon’s ancestor—a treasure beyond any price.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Stop talking and kill me.”

He knew they would take it eventually, but he had no intention of making it easy for them.

Ma Gong Ho didn’t lose his temper at the defiance. Instead, a greasy, knowing smile spread across his face.

“I never liked you. Always acting so high and mighty with those mediocre skills.”

He leaned in closer to Thunderbolt.

“You think you stayed ahead of us because you’re talented? Don’t be stupid. We could have taken you whenever we wanted. We were ordered to keep you running so we could scout the martial world’s reactions. And don’t think you saved this place—it’s going to burn today anyway.”

“What the hell are you saying…”

Ma Gong Ho ignored the protest. He straightened up, his voice suddenly filled with manufactured rage.

“You’re saying the relic is gone? You expect me to believe that?”

His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear, but his eyes were dancing with a hidden laughter.

[With your head and the destruction of the Living Immortal Medical House, our cult’s grand design finally begins.]

Thunderbolt’s eyes blazed with fury at the secret transmission. Every struggle he and his Divine Demon comrades had endured to protect the relic was being turned into a joke.

“Die!”

Where did the energy come from? Despite being at death’s door, Thunderbolt’s sword shot forward like a bolt of lightning. But it stopped dead.

Thunderbolt stared in shock as Ma Gong Ho caught the blade between his palms in a prayer-like grip. He was the youngest elder in the cult’s history—a known prodigy—but to catch a swift-sword strike like that was beyond comprehension.

“I told you—you were always mediocre.”

Thunderbolt was speechless under Ma Gong Ho’s mocking gaze.

“I won’t kill you yet. A quick death is too good for you. You can keep that Heavenly Demon Ring for now.”

Ma Gong Ho shoved the sword aside and reached out for the collapsing Thunderbolt. He didn’t intend to kill him, but he was going to maim him as a lesson for the attack.

In that very moment.

*Shrieek!*

An object tore through the air with a piercing whistle.

It was moving too fast to track—Ma Gong Ho scrambled back in a panic.

*Boom!*

A thunderous explosion rocked the ground. A crater appeared exactly where Ma Gong Ho had been standing. At the very center of the hole, an iron sword was buried deep in the earth.