By the following day, Young Yu-jung had fully recovered. He cast his gaze toward a dark, obsidian-hued sword—a Rank 5 Gu he had acquired during one of his journeys—known as the "Screaming Master's Blade." Its edge was so sharp that it could slice through diamonds as easily as if they were butter. He donned a white robe and loose-fitting white trousers, cinched at the waist by a long red sash wrapped around him several times, with a significant length still trailing. Clutching the Screaming Master's Blade—a weapon that fed upon the souls of those it slew, granting its wielder a manifold increase in both strength and speed—he stepped out of his dwelling.
Young Yu-jung headed toward the exit, a sinister smile playing upon his lips. A palpable killing intent burned within his blue eyes, causing animals near or within the village to either flee in terror or descend into a frenzied state—a phenomenon that left the villagers deeply bewildered.
Once outside, he fixed his gaze upon the village of Usagi Kurisai. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at the Screaming Master's Blade, which pulsed with a cold, black radiance.
"The moment has arrived. I swear to annihilate you all, just as locusts devour lush, green crops. I shall drench the village of Usagi Kurisai in your crimson blood and adorn its gates and entrances with your corpses—so that the world may learn the price of insulting the Great Demonic Venerable, Young Yu-jung!" He swung the "Sword of the Lord of Screams," producing a sound as it sliced through the air—a sound akin to the wailing of thousands of souls suffering in hell.
In a split second, a man's head—severed in two—flashed before him; one half remained attached to the body, while the other fell away. Blood gushed forth, erupting like a fountain and drenching Young Yu-jung's white garments in a deep, crimson hue.
Cries of terror erupted as the villagers fled for their lives, desperate to escape the clutches of Young Yu-jung—a man who showed no mercy to anyone, sparing neither young nor old, making no distinction between man or woman.
The scene was one of utter chaos. People scrambled in every direction, terrified for their lives, while Young Yu-jung slaughtered them without a shred of compassion. It was like a herd of panicked animals fleeing a ferocious predator; the villagers of Usagi Krisai, in their frantic and disorganized flight, ended up causing numerous injuries among themselves.
The village of Usagi Krisai had two gates—one to the north and one to the south—both of which Young Yu-jung had blocked to ensure no one could escape.
He hunted them down like a starving lion preying upon helpless mice.
Hours passed, and as the sun reached its zenith, noon arrived.
Young Yu-jung had fulfilled his promise: by midday, every single inhabitant of the village lay dead. Usagi Krisai was now devoid of any human life—save for Young Yu-jung himself, his clothes stained entirely red with blood. "Human nature is foolish; people's tongues constantly lead them toward an abyss or their own destruction. It was their tongues that caused their deaths—had they only held their tongues, they might have escaped their inevitable fate. Hahaha!"
Yong Yu-jung's laughter was cold, devoid of any joy or satisfaction. Although he had reached the early stage of the eighth level just the previous night, he felt no happiness; the bitterness of his humiliating defeat at the hands of Daniel de Moliar had completely eclipsed the sweetness of his achievement. He cast his gaze toward the remains of the villagers of Usagi Krisai—bodies mutilated in brutal fashion, some torn to pieces, others crushed in the ensuing stampede. Most of the victims were the elderly, children, or pregnant women—some in the final stages of their pregnancies.
The primary cause of the deaths of the Usagi Krisai villagers was their own tongues. Had they remained silent instead of insulting Yong Yu-jung, they would still be alive today. A person's tongue is like a steed; if you guard it, it will protect you.
Throughout the world, a person's tongue can be the key to their success or the instrument of their ruin. Many have ended up in prison, faced legal prosecution, become entangled in affairs that had nothing to do with them, or even lost their lives—all because of their tongues. In this life, one should either speak well or remain silent. The tongue is a muscle without a bone; it is a blade-less sword, yet it can serve as a raft to navigate a sea of troubles. This is the fate of those who fail to restrain their tongues—they perish, falling into a quagmire of personal, familial, or social strife. The village of Usagi Krisai stands as the ultimate testament to the dire consequences of speaking without discretion. Young Yu-jung left the village of Usagi Krisai, wandering without a specific destination. Even after walking for several hours, blood still dripped from his clothes.
Seven hours had passed, and sunset had arrived. Along the way, he had been attacked by several packs of beasts, all of which he slaughtered—devouring their life force to bolster his own strength. As he roamed, he spotted a peculiar, suspicious-looking cave and decided to head toward it.
"What is this? I sense a familiar energy—it feels like the energy of a 'legacy'!"
A "legacy" refers to a collection of treasures left behind by Gu masters or cultivators. Sometimes, the creator of such a legacy is not a cultivator, but a mana-user—such as an alchemist—who crafts magical artifacts and leaves them behind as a legacy.
He flicked his hand, unleashing a gust of wind powerful enough to uproot trees and sweep away rocks, sending a massive cloud of dust and debris into the air.
After a few minutes, the dust that had filled the area finally settled.
A faint smile appeared on his face as he gazed toward a palace that had been concealed within the mountain.
"My intuition was right after all." Upon reaching the palace gate, he noticed a plaque inscribed with a message in a shade of purple so dark it appeared almost black:
[The weak are deemed weak for their cowardice, while the strong are defined by their courage. The greater the sacrifice, the finer and more magnificent the reward. This is my treasure—none shall possess it but the one truly worthy.]
The stone plaque began to dissolve slowly, eventually vanishing completely.
A faint sound—reminiscent of a lock being disengaged—echoed, and the stone gate swung open, scraping loudly against the ground.
Yong Yu-jung's smile widened as he gazed into the palace.
"Judging by my 654 years of experience, the creator of this legacy must have been exceptionally powerful."
Yong Yu-jung possessed a wealth of experience, having spent 494 years wandering across the Five Realms: those of the Dragons, the Higher Demons, the Lower Demons, and the Humans. He had encountered various types of legacies, studying and mastering the methods to uncover and conquer them—a pursuit that spanned over two centuries. Consequently, he held an extensive breadth of expertise in In almost every field.
He wandered through the palace for several hours, sensing the energy of the Great Demon emanating from one of the rooms, and made his way toward it.
The demonic energy intensified with every step he took toward the room—a chamber with a massive, crimson-colored door emblazoned with a six-pointed star—and he stepped inside. The room was so saturated with demonic energy that Young Yu-jung's face turned deathly pale. His gaze fell upon a massive bed, where the corpse of a beautiful woman lay; though she was dead, her body remained entirely unchanged. Staring at her, the shock was clearly etched across his face.
How could a woman who died centuries ago retain her youth, and how could she possess such an immense amount of demonic energy?
These were the thoughts racing through Young Yu-jung's mind at that moment.
He ran his hand over her body, sensing the presence of two Gu: one of the eighth rank, and the other of the ninth rank.
"An eighth-rank Demon Heart Gu, and a ninth-rank Blood Demon Gu." The "Devil's Heart Gu" could manipulate the refiner's genes, turning them into a half-devil—a transformation that, however, could not be passed down to offspring. As for the "Blood Devil Gu," it elevated its user beyond the constraints of time. This did not grant true immortality; rather, it rendered the user immune to aging, preserving their body in its current state even after death. Feeding it was simple: it consumed time itself—nullifying any temporal effects and absorbing the resulting energy. The other Gu fed on souls; I possessed the "Screaming Master Gu," which served as an excellent reservoir, currently holding over a thousand souls.
The Blood Devil Gu took the form of a red serpent, marked on its head with a white patch in the shape of an infinity symbol (∞). The Devil's Heart Gu, meanwhile, bore a striking resemblance to a human heart—it was, in fact, an exact replica.
With a satisfied smile, I extracted both the Devil's Heart Gu and the Blood Devil Gu from the woman's corpse.
The only drawback of the Devil's Heart Gu was that, once activated, it could not be removed; it was a single-use, consumable-type Gu.
The Devil's Heart Gu could be activated once it had been fed with souls. It appeared somewhat withered and shriveled, having subsisted on the souls of the few creatures that had perished within the mountain. The Blood Devil Gu, meanwhile, began to drink the blood staining Young Yu-jung's robes and trousers—blood that remained liquid, as he had been slaying beasts from two in the afternoon until seven in the evening. As it drank, the fabric—originally a pale white, though now soiled with dust and grime—was restored to its clean state. He turned his gaze toward the Devil's Heart Gu, which was devouring the souls that the Screaming Master Gu had stored within itself. Although this technically amounted to theft—since the Screaming Master Gu also consumed souls—the Devil's Heart Gu was a Rank 8 Gu, three full ranks higher than his own; he had no choice but to let it do as it pleased. Of the 1,644 souls, only 307 remained—1,357 had vanished in a matter of seconds. Yet, the refinement process itself was straightforward: the refiner had to follow the Demonic Path, and they had to have caused great calamities—both of which were true in his case.
"Good. Only one thing remains—the most difficult part: wagering my own life."
He took the Devil's Heart Gu into his right hand.
The final requirement for refining the Devil's Heart Gu was for the refiner to sacrifice their own heart—much like selling one's soul to the devil. However, this was slightly different; he would be "selling" his heart to the devil, but because the Devil's Heart Gu was a consumable-type Gu, it would effectively *become* his heart. It would require no external nourishment; as long as Yong Yu-jung remained alive, the Devil's Heart Gu would stay in peak condition without needing any food.
Yong Yu-jung directed the Devil's Heart Gu toward his own heart, allowing it to enter his chest. His chest appeared like a transparent wall, and he felt a faint, tickling sensation as the Devil's Heart Gu merged into his body. As the pain became unbearable, the Demon Heart Gu began to devour his own heart with savage intensity, tearing through the very veins—such as those in his wrists and neck—that carried the pulse of his original heart throughout his body.
"Aaaaaaaaaaa!" Young Yu-jung's scream echoed throughout the entire inheritance site; his veins bulged so severely they threatened to burst.
With his entire body burning, he chose to employ both his Luck Gu and Divine Purity Gu to siphon the life force from the woman's corpse.
Blood gushed from every part of his body, and after enduring hours of hellish agony, he finally collapsed into unconsciousness.
One hundred and thirty-two years later—at the age of 786—his appearance had shifted to that of a man in his fifties, and he had advanced to the late stage of the eighth rank. His notoriety had grown immense; he had struck terror into the world for a staggering 526 years while operating openly, and another 75 years while in the shadows—a period that included his time within his original tribe. They had eventually disowned him, casting him out and branding him the disgrace of Mount Yun-Gai. Yet, despite this, Young Yu-jung's lingering affection led him to continue protecting the clan. He even issued a public vow: anyone who dared to lay a hand on the Hua-Yu clan would face a fate far worse than death. In the depths of winter, on a mountain known as the "End of the World"—a place marking the edge of the landmass, beyond which stretched hundreds of kilometers of open water—the terrain lay blanketed in a pristine, brilliant white that reached toward the horizon. Swirling, falling snow lent the mountains a breathtaking, ethereal appearance. A man, appearing to be in his sixties—his hair flecked with gray and his face marked by subtle lines—moved with a physical strength that commanded respect. This man was Yong Yu-jung, who had lived for 1,206 years. Dressed in traditional, charcoal-black Chinese attire and carrying a black, traditional-style blade, he wandered across a peak dubbed "Apocalypse"—an active volcano once capable of shaking the entire world, though it had remained dormant for thousands of years following its ancient eruptions. By this time, Yong Yu-jung had been a member of the Scorpion Organization for 354 years and had attained the rank of an early-stage Rank 9 Gu Master; yet, he had still not refined a GuThe Blood Demon had one final condition yet to be fulfilled: the torture and killing of someone dear to him. It was an incredibly difficult task—to hold someone so dear that the very thought of killing them remained impossible, even after a year, or perhaps decades.
"Life is strange. Hatred comes easily, and so does love—but to entrust someone with your heart and soul is an immensely difficult feat. Hearts are precious jewels; they are not to be bestowed upon just anyone." "Ever since I acquired the Demon's Heart, I lost the capacity to love. I abandoned my daughter and killed my sons and their wives. Only my grandson, Young-su Lu, remained by my side—yet even he never grew close enough to be truly dear to my heart."
Young Yu-jung let out a long sigh, his breath misting in the air like a cloud of smoke.
As he wandered through the Mountain of Resurrection, he caught sight of a figure standing in the distance. After walking for five minutes, the person came into clear view: a young man with long, white hair tied back into a ponytail that reached the small of his back, the loose strands flowing gracefully in the wind.
He wore a white *kimono*-style robe adorned with light-blue stripes, which draped over his entire frame. His hands, gripping a pair of swords with black blades, were entirely concealed. He stood 1.85 meters tall. His face was hidden behind a white mask, upon which three phrases were inscribed, each in a different color: "Torture, and you shall be tortured," "Show mercy, and you shall be shown mercy," and "Kill, and you shall be killed." The wind stirred his loose, silvery-white robes, lending him an air of majestic grandeur. Though he appeared to be a young man, he had already been a figure of note back when Yong Yu-jung was in the prime of his own youth.
Yong Yu-jung's expression was a mask of confusion, yet a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread and terror took hold of his heart. "Who on earth is this person?"
In the blink of an eye, the young man closed the distance—from a hundred paces away, to fifty, then twenty-five. For the first time in a long age, Yong Yu-jung felt the cold grip of fear.
Before he could fully react, one of the stranger's blades was already inches from his face; he managed to dodge it, but only by the narrowest of margins. The stranger didn't stop there—he delivered a brutal kick to Yong Yu-jung's cheek, sending him hurtling away at the speed of light. He crashed into a forest, shattering every tree in his path.
Yong Yu-jung struggled to his feet, his body covered in wounds—some of them grave. "Who in the hell is this? How could he possibly possess such power?" he thought, panic rising. "I must flee at once—my chances of survival are zero!"
Having lived for over a thousand years, Yong Yu-jung had developed a keen instinct for assessing whether a situation was in his favor; it was clear that this one was, in every possible way, disastrous for him.
But before he could make a move, he felt a strange warmth spreading across his chest. A deep, gaping wound appeared, running from his chest all the way down to his pelvis.
Warm blood began to pour from the gash and from his own mouth, dripping onto the pristine white snow and staining it a vivid, crimson red. Yong Yu-jung's face contorted in utter disbelief at what was unfolding before him. "Who... who are you?" He said this while gazing at the young man approaching him. Yong Yu-jung had collapsed to his knees; he could no longer go on. Fear and dread bound him like chains—though he had fought through far worse injuries in the past, this fear was an overwhelming, crushing weight, as if death itself were embracing him. "I am known as the 'Heaven-Shattering Venerable.' Once you refine the Blood Demon Gu, I shall kill you. Remember my words well—or perhaps you won't remember anything at all. That is entirely up to you, Great Demonic Venerable Yong Yu-jung!"
The figure unleashed a powerful strike, sending Yong Yu-jung flying until he slammed into a boulder, shattering it into dust. He lost consciousness immediately.
Days later, Yong Yu-jung awoke to find himself in an inn. His grandson, Yong Su-lu, sat before him, looking genuinely concerned. "Are you alright, Grandfather? You've been unconscious for eleven days. Do you know why you lost consciousness?"
Yong Yu-jung propped himself up against a pillow, trying to recall what had happened. The last thing he remembered was wandering through the Mountain of Resurrection—and now, he was here. "No, I don't know. Perhaps it was just exhaustion. Even as a Rank 9 Supreme Immortal Gu Master, I do not possess infinite strength; it is only natural that I would eventually succumb to fatigue."
394 years passed. Yong Yu-jung met his end at the hands of Yuta Kasiral at the age of 1,600—just minutes after he had successfully refined the Blood Demon Gu.
The End