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Seeing that Woo-Moon was not only able to overcome his pressure but even speak up, Seop Un-Ha’s eyes were filled with wonder.
“Yes, that’s true, I did do that. But what could I do? I have no choice if I want to feel the pleasure that comes from the Merciless Blood Devil Art.”
“So no matter what sort of unfortunate past you may have, you’re not worth anyone’s pity. You’re still nothing more than a blood-crazed monster and a murderer.”
The Blood Cloud Devil Emperor was definitely strong. But, even though he felt the threat of death, Woo-Moon would never hold back from saying what he wanted to say.
He chuckled at Woo-Moon’s cold words.
“You really are the grandson of the Palm Martial Emperor, aren’t you? You’re exactly like he was when he was younger So, what’s your name?”
“Song Woo-Moon.”
“Song Woo-Moon… Good. So, you’re learning Daoist martial arts, right?”
“That’s right.”
“So Daoism, huh? Then, do you also want to become an immortal, too?”
‘An immortal?’
“I’ve never thought about something like that. I just want to walk the path of the sword. I want to see what’s at the end of the path.”
“So you dream of becoming a Sword Immortal, then. But what a pity. You’ll never be able to see what lies at the end of the path.”
“What makes you say that?”
The Blood Cloud Devil Emperor laughed, his voice rising.
“Hohohohohohohoho!”
The sound of his mysterious laughter filled the heavens and earth. The water of the trembling Yangtze River...
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