The Demonic Supreme Sword Novel - Chapter 76

Chapter 76
## Chapter 76: A Fatal Miscalculation (3)

The northwestern sector of Hangzhou served as the city’s primary pleasure district.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the lanterns that had hung limply throughout the day began to glow with a dim, amber light. Though the night’s revelry had not yet reached its peak and the streets remained relatively quiet, the atmosphere was already heavy with a thick, suffocating humidity.

Positioned at the center of this den of vice was the Hangzhou branch of Haomen—a strategic hub nearly as essential to the organization as their primary base in Nanjing.

“Where is the branch leader? What is taking so long?”

Han Seol, having fled the destruction of the Heavenly Pavilion to seek refuge in Hangzhou, paced the floor of the inner chamber, her nerves frayed to the breaking point.

“Maintain your composure. Considering the caliber of the people they are meeting, it is only natural for the negotiations to be protracted,” Bu Yong remarked. As the madam of the high-end brothel Cheonnak and the acting administrator of the branch’s daily affairs, she spoke with a practiced, steadying tone.

“You are certain they haven’t caught our scent?” Han Seol asked, her expression tight with anxiety.

“It is highly unlikely. Our tracks were covered with extreme care; there is no logical reason for them to suspect us.”

“If that is true, then why have they arrived in this city specifically?”

“News of the incident has undoubtedly reached Hangzhou. They are likely here to solicit aid for their investigation. However, given that the Beggars’ Sect and the Haohu Clan are involved, we must remain vigilant.”

Bu Yong’s explanation was interrupted as the door slid open. Ma Yang, the Haomen branch leader, stepped inside, his face lined with exhaustion.

“The lady’s instincts are correct. We cannot afford even a single lapse in judgment.”

Seeing him, Han Seol and Ho Cheop rose quickly to show their respect.

“Han Seol greets the branch leader.”

“Ho Cheop greets the branch leader.”

Ho Cheop then directed a deeper, more formal bow toward the elderly figure following behind Ma Yang.

“This disciple offers greetings to the Master.”

The elder, a high-ranking official of Haomen named Du Mi Rok, gave a somber nod of acknowledgment.

“Take your seats. I have heard the basic outline of the situation, but I want a detailed account of what happened,” Ma Yang commanded, taking the seat of authority and signaling for the others to join him.

Han Seol exchanged a quick look with Ho Cheop, bit her lip to steady her voice, and began to speak.

“The fault lies entirely with me.”

She recounted the events in Shao Xing with clinical precision, offering no justifications for her failure, only the stark reality of the mission’s collapse. Du Mi Rok watched her closely, searching for any sign of fabrication, but Ho Cheop’s silent nod confirmed the truth of her words.

“So, these attackers stormed the Heavenly Pavilion, and your recollection ends there?” Ma Yang pressed.

Han Seol looked down at the floor, shame coloring her features. “Yes. To be precise, I lost consciousness the moment I prepared to engage them.”

“I see.”

Ma Yang shifted his focus to Ho Cheop, who stepped forward to provide her testimony.

“Elder Po concluded that the assailants were likely members of the Butcher Gang. He immobilized the lady to ensure her safety and commanded me to escort her away immediately. He was also deeply concerned that the compromise of the Heavenly Pavilion would lead the enemy straight to our main headquarters.”

“Elder Po chose flight over combat? That speaks volumes. What is your assessment?” Ma Yang asked, turning to Du Mi Rok.

“He must have realized that the gap in strength was insurmountable,” the elder replied.

“A reasonable conclusion, especially considering the reports of their behavior at the Living Immortal Medical House,” Ma Yang sighed, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. “We must coordinate our defense. If Shao Xing has fallen, our exposure here is merely a matter of time.”

“Elder Po and his subordinates are loyal. They will not break, regardless of the interrogation methods used.”

“And if the Beggars’ Sect applies pressure? Have you forgotten the identity of the individuals we just encountered?” Du Mi Rok’s grim reminder caused Ma Yang to scowl.

“We need to alert the sect leader. This entire affair has become a nightmare. Why did we ever get involved?”

Du Mi Rok shared his frustration. “I was against it from the beginning. Attacking the Clear Heart Clinic was a reckless move. We have survived many skirmishes with the Yangtze pirates, but this is a different level of provocation.”

“The sect leader was hesitant as well, if the rumors are true. I wonder who was persistent enough to force the issue.”

“The Supreme Dharma Protector.”

“That explains everything,” Ma Yang muttered, nodding in understanding.

A predator that has lost its offspring is a force of pure destruction. The Supreme Dharma Protector had lost two sons to the Yangtze River Alliance, and his obsession with vengeance was boundless. He would burn the world down to achieve his retribution.

“Regardless, the dice are cast. We must manage the fallout. Do you have a proposal?”

Du Mi Rok considered the question for a moment before answering Ma Yang. “Continue with the plan to leak the identity of Hong Ik Bang.”

“A distraction, then?”

“Precisely. But we cannot rely on it entirely. As Elder Po predicted, this branch is at risk. With the Beggars’ Sect active, the trail will inevitably lead here.”

Ma Yang turned his attention to Bu Yong. “We may need to abandon this location. Begin the preparations for a full evacuation.”

Bu Yong, who had built Cheonnak into a pillar of Haomen’s influence, felt a pang of regret but gave a firm nod. “I will start at once.”

Just as she turned to depart, a piercing, blood-curdling scream tore through the air from the courtyard, followed by the sounds of immediate violence.

Ma Yang and Du Mi Rok locked eyes for a split second before sprinting toward the source of the noise.

“It can’t be…” Han Seol whispered, her face draining of color as her worst fears manifested.

—

“Would you be quiet? I’m not here for you, but that noise is giving me a headache. Scream again, and you’ll end up exactly like your friend here.”

At Cheol Woo’s low, predatory threat, the courtesan who had been hysterical instantly clamped her hands over her mouth. Though she was trembling violently and hiccuping from the shock, she forced herself into silence, terrified of sharing the fate of the man lying broken and mangled at her feet.

“That’s much better. You’ve got a hell of a pair of lungs for someone so small. Now, get out of here.”

Cheol Woo offered a smile that held no warmth, only a terrifying edge. “A word of advice: run far away if you want to keep breathing.”

He dismissed her with a wave, his focus shifting to the wave of Haomen combatants emerging from every doorway to surround him.

“Stand your ground!”

Du Mi Rok stepped into the light, his eyes narrowing as he saw the man on the ground.

*Is that Jang Ryong? Defeated so effortlessly?*

He recognized the victim as one of the most capable warriors in the Hangzhou branch. To see him discarded like trash sent a jolt of tension through the elder.

“Who are you to invade this place and terrorize women?”

“She was loud enough to wake the ancestors, I’ll give you that. But ‘helpless’? And this guy was anything but innocent.”

Cheol Woo punctuated his sentence by kicking the side of Jang Ryong’s body, drawing a wet, pained groan from the dying man.

Du Mi Rok caught the body as it was sent flying toward him. By the time he laid him down, Jang Ryong’s heart had stopped.

“I didn’t come here looking for a fight with the help, but he decided to get in my way…” Cheol Woo said with annoyance, glancing at Noe Jeon, who was casually gesturing toward the building.

“There.”

Noe Jeon pointed at Han Seol, who had just appeared behind Ma Yang and Du Mi Rok.

“Is that the girl?”

“That’s her.”

Cheol Woo fixed a predatory gaze on Han Seol, his teeth baring in a grin. “Glad we finally caught up with you, girl.”

“Gods… we were followed,” Du Mi Rok hissed.

Ho Cheop, who had been so certain of her evasive maneuvers, bowed her head in shame. “I failed. I am responsible for this.”

“No,” Ma Yang replied with a hollow, bitter laugh, trying to comfort her. “We were outplayed from the start. They let us run just so we would lead them back to the nest.”

Sima Geon stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Ma Yang with chilling intensity.

“You appear to be the one in charge. I’ll be brief: Who gave the order?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Ma Yang replied.

Sima Geon’s gaze turned cold and lethal. “Haomen, the great collectors of secrets… I expected more than such a transparent lie.”

At the explicit mention of their organization’s name, Ma Yang’s composure flickered for a fraction of a second.

“We are indeed Haomen, but we do not deal in kidnappings. You have clearly been misinformed…”

Sima Geon’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Still playing games. Cheol Woo, Noe Jeon.”

“Ready, Division Leader.”

“Eliminate them.”

The command had barely left his lips when Cheol Woo’s fist tore through the air, sending a concentrated wave of qi directly toward Ho Cheop.

Du Mi Rok lunged forward to shield his disciple. He had read the intelligence reports regarding the carnage at the Living Immortal Medical House and knew exactly how dangerous these men were. He didn’t hold back, channeling every ounce of his internal strength into his palms.

The Heaven-Hating Palm Technique—the lethal art that had allowed a starving orphan to rise to the rank of elder—was unleashed in its most devastating form.

*Boom!*

The collision generated a shockwave that rattled the very foundations of the building.

Du Mi Rok let out a sharp grunt, forced back several steps by the impact. Cheol Woo, however, seemed entirely unaffected by the recoil. He used the momentum to leap into the air, launching a second, even more powerful strike.

While Cheol Woo remained relentless, Du Mi Rok was already struggling to regain his balance, his confidence shaken by the sheer physical pressure of the first exchange.

Unable to mount a counterattack, he was forced into a desperate retreat. The other Haomen warriors tried to swarm Cheol Woo, but Noe Jeon’s sword intervened. His blade moved with the speed of a lightning strike, creating a perimeter of death that no one could cross.

With every silver flash of Noe Jeon’s weapon, limbs were severed and blood sprayed across the courtyard, painting the walls in macabre patterns.

Ma Yang watched in horror as his elite guards were slaughtered without even scratching the enemy. He drew his own sword to engage Noe Jeon, but found himself rooted to the spot. An overwhelming, suffocating aura had locked onto him the moment his hand touched his hilt.

He turned his head to see the source.

Sima Geon stood several paces away, arms crossed, watching the execution with a look of bored indifference. To Ma Yang, the man felt like a looming mountain—as immovable as Mount Tai and as scorching as a summer sun.

*We have provoked a monster! Why did we target someone like this?*

Ma Yang realized, too late, that Haomen had made a catastrophic error. This was not a foe they could manage; this was a force of nature that would consume the entire sect.

“Argh!”

Du Mi Rok was sent tumbling across the stone floor, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle by Cheol Woo’s fist. Most of the warriors who had tried to assist him, including Ho Cheop, were either dead or incapacitated.

“Help! No!”

Between the screams of the dying, the severed heads of the Cheonnak courtesans began to roll toward Ma Yang’s feet. Their faces were frozen in expressions of absolute terror, their eyes wide and vacant.

While these women were technically part of Haomen, they were not warriors. Seeing their brutal end broke Ma Yang’s restraint.

“How can you call yourselves martial artists while committing such butchery!” Ma Yang screamed at Sima Geon.

The effort of speaking through Sima Geon’s oppressive aura caused blood to seep from Ma Yang’s lips, his eyes turning a deep, frantic red.

“Butchery?” Sima Geon’s mouth curled into a dark, ruthless sneer. “You still don’t understand the situation you’re in.”

As Sima Geon began to walk forward, Ma Yang mustered every bit of his remaining strength and lunged with a desperate sword strike aimed at the man’s throat. Sima Geon didn’t even flinch.

Just as Ma Yang thought the blade might connect…

The sword stopped dead.

Sima Geon had caught the edge of the blade between two fingers. With a casual flick of his wrist, the steel snapped. He then threw the broken tip back at the stunned branch leader.

*Move!*

Ma Yang’s mind screamed at his body to dodge, but the pressure of Sima Geon’s presence had paralyzed him. The shard of steel moved faster than he could react.

It buried itself deep into Ma Yang’s shoulder.

“Gah!”

Ma Yang’s jaw dropped in a silent scream. The sensation was not like a simple cut; it felt as though his flesh was being cauterized by a red-hot iron. The agony radiated from the wound, flooding his entire nervous system. He had survived many battles and suffered many wounds, but nothing compared to this searing, overwhelming pain.

*Crack!*

Sima Geon moved in and shattered Ma Yang’s leg with a brutal kick. The branch leader collapsed, clawing at the ground in a futile attempt to escape the torment. Sima Geon placed a boot lightly on the man’s midsection, pinning him down.

“That is the price for talking when you should be listening, old man.”

The agony in his shoulder and leg paled in comparison to the weight of that single foot. It felt as if a tectonic plate was slowly crushing his internal organs. Ma Yang tried to speak, but he knew that if he opened his mouth, the pressure would cause his body to simply come apart.