SSS-Class Revival Hunter - Chapter 81

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ SSS-Class Revival Hunter ◈

Chapter 81: The Humblest in the World (1)

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Murmurs swept across the snowfield.

"What exactly is happening here!"

"Are we... alive?"

"Is this the Peach Blossom Spring...?"

Disciples of the Demonic Cult. Warriors of the Orthodox Faction.

Their last memory was their own death. They might remember being bitten by zombies, but not becoming zombies themselves. For them, it's as if years have passed in the blink of an eye.

"......"

Some had endured those three years entirely.

Master stood, staring blankly at the snowfield, disbelieving her own eyes.

"Disciple..."

"Yes, Master."

“Did you come not from beyond the borders, but from beyond this world...? This, this could never be sorcery wielded by a mere human. It belongs only in absurd legends. Or did I die without realizing it and arrive in the Peach Blossom Spring...?”

"No, it's not like that."

I shook my head.

"These people, like Master, can no longer use martial arts. They have become much weaker compared to their prime. But this is not the Peach Blossom Spring, and these people still have their memories of life."

"......"

"Go and see for yourself."

"......"

"Please, Master."

Crunch.

Master walked. Thud, thud... light footsteps. They belonged to a martial artist whose Dantian had been destroyed. A warrior who had lost her Ki. A woman who bore the traces of a three-year illness.

The Heavenly Demon.

My Master.

She walked with light steps toward the disciples. They were trying to grasp the situation.

"First, let's assess the current situation. Stay calm! Send scouts to..."

"Blood Ghost Troop Captain."

Hesitation.

The disciples flinched. About a dozen of the Demonic Cult's followers fell silent. Then, with unfamiliar eyes, they looked at Master, their leader.

"Lord Heavenly Demon...?"

Master's breath grew whiter.

"Blood Ghost Troop Captain."

"......"

"Truly, the Blood Ghost Troop Captain."

Silence spread. At first, it was just about ten people. But as they fell silent, dozens around them did the same, and then hundreds.

A quiet snowfield.

"Moon Shadow Demon..."

"Yes."

"Ghost-Soul Flame Demon..."

"Yes, Master."

"Sword Demon..."

"Please give us your orders."

Master started calling the names of the disciples. Each named disciple simply knelt down without questioning. The snow crunched under their knees.

“I lost you...”

Master reached out.

“I lost you time and time again.”

Master felt along one follower’s cheek and gently caressed it.

"My children..."

Her fingers trembled. Seeing the trembling of their leader, the disciples bowed their heads more earnestly. It seemed their loyalty was not to see what should not be seen. All thousand disciples turned their eyes to the ground.

The demonic cultists were not the only ones stunned.

"...Ah."

An old monk stroked their beard.

“This humble monk must surely have prepared their grave in that cave and crossed the river of death. Yet when I closed my eyes, there was neither the far shore nor even a burial mound, only this snowfield...”

“Y-you damned monk!”

"...And there's also a devil mixed in. Ah, even in death, I must roam with this creature. What does Buddha expect of me?"

"Damn, just hearing your nonsense makes me realize you're the real old monk!"

The Head of the Martial Alliance rushed over and hugged the old monk. I guessed who they were. Excluding Master and the Head of the Martial Alliance, they were the one who survived the longest. The Head Monk of the Shaolin Temple.

"You're alive and back! My friend is back!"

"I am not your friend."

"Ah! Surely the Jade Emperor has granted us a miracle!"

“The sound of a dog eating grass,” said the old monk.

In other words, they were saying that the man was spouting utter nonsense.

“Do not defile this humble monk’s ears, sentient being. I should never have fallen for your cajoling and fought those heterodox fiends in the first place. It would have been better to pass away quietly at the temple.”

“Ah! The way my joy drains away the instant I see you proves that you really are the damned monk I know! I want to punch you in the face!”

While the Demonic Cult's warriors remained quiet, the Orthodox Faction's martial artists were noisy.

They were sharing this reunion in their own ways.

Time passed.

"......"

The first to turn and look at me was Master. Our eyes met across the snow. Dark eyes. Emotions rested in that gaze. My feelings were imprinted, engraved in her heart.

"......I am."

Master began to speak.

She spoke towards the Head of the Martial Alliance.

"I am the Lord of the Demonic Cult, So BaekHyang."

The Head of the Martial Alliance, who had been exchanging reflections with his comrades, paused. He released the comrades in his embrace and looked back at Master from a distance. Master offered a cupped-fist salute.

"The Heavenly Demon."

"Today, even if this is just a night of blind dreaming, it's okay."

It was midday.

"Even if I'm just a sleepwalking patient, it's okay."

The snow in the snowfield wasn't eternal because it didn't melt in the sun, but because it kept being covered anew, endlessly.

“Even if the Demonic Way’s reign beneath heaven was merely a dream that drifted through my sleep, so be it. Life has always belonged to those who choose to suffer the same illness, and the world to those who choose to dream the same dream.”

In the blazing sunlight, those who wish to remain white must do more than just be born white. They must continuously scatter whiteness into the world, ready to break, shatter, and spread endlessly.

"I haven't forgotten the name of the illness I chose to suffer from. I haven't lost the warmth of the dream I chose to dream. So, I haven't let go of any person or missed any world. Baraya! It's not the name of martial arts, but the name of an illness that proves my place, not the strength of Ki, but the warmth of a dream that proves me."

The sound of crumbling snowflakes.

"I am right here, and only while I remain here, I am myself."

With the sound of snow falling anew even after it melted.

“I am none other than myself.”

Master recited a declaration of war.

"I challenge you to the 990th duel."

Silence enveloped the surroundings.

The noisy Orthodox Faction had quieted down.

They were the last small and great heroes of the martial world. They came thinking this was the end, to wage the final war.

How could they act rashly?

If the last words one chooses in life are a testament, then now they were about to speak the testament of the Orthodox Faction.

And the orthodox looked to the one who would speak their testament.

“Leader of the Martial Alliance. Namgung Clan.”

The old man performed a formal bow.

“Supreme Family Head. Namgung Woon. The Great Axe Sage.”

One thousand of the Demonic Cult and one thousand of the Orthodox Faction faced each other.

"You Demonic Cult used the screams of the common people as doctrine. Screams became revenge, and revenge became bloodshed, staining the world red. Bloodthirsty avengers! The world has turned red, yet you still act like victims."

The man who rose to Head of the Martial Alliance, with his own voice, drew a line between the Demonic Cult and the Orthodox Faction.

“You cling endlessly to the Heavenly Demon’s robes as you weep. You beg her to act in your stead, to perform the rite of vengeance for you. While you hang from her sleeves, you claim that you are weak commoners and sorrowful subjects!”

The old Head roared.

"Thirst! You have legs and hands, why still indulge in the past's evil ghosts! The Huayan Sutra says, even a single tree must shed its flowers to bear fruit. What about you? You are merely flower sellers in a garden, profiting from your own pain!"

His words provoked the Demonic Cult's crowd.

The disciples clenched their swords, anger and killing intent rising. Against them, the Orthodox Faction's warriors began to match their energy.

Neither side had Ki, yet the air on the snowfield grew tense.

"Good."

Master smiled.

"I take that as acceptance of the duel."

"Of course."

“Will it be a contest decided in life, or a fight to the death?”

"Life and death."

"Accepted."

Both warriors released their formal bows.

Swoosh!

At the same time, one thousand followers of the Demonic Cult and one thousand warriors of the Orthodox Faction drew their swords. It was high noon. Fully two thousand blades caught the sunlight and shone brilliantly.

"Children of the Demonic Heavens!"

Master clenched her fist.

"Even if today's event is but a vain dream, a delusion!"

"Baraya!"

A thousand disciples shouted in unison.

"Even if we are called a futile dream, it's fine!"

"Baraya!"

"Then we must live as if in a dream!"

"Agabaraya!"

"Our hearts are like candles!"

"We shall set this place ablaze!"

"For the Demonic Heavens!"

"For supremacy of the Common People!"

Master burst into laughter.

"Kill them!"

The war had begun.

A thousand disciples roared like beasts as they charged. Lacking the exquisite Stepping Techniques or the mysterious Movement Techniques, they attacked and tore at their enemies like animals. This was their holy war, as dictated by their doctrine.

“You hypocritical gentlemen! I am Moon Shadow Demon, one of our cult’s Four Demon Lords! Face my sword!”

Captain of the Demonic Cult's Shadow Corpse Troop.

Moon Shadow Demon.

"I am the Leader of the Wudang sect, HyunGong Jinin! A worthy opponent!"

Leader of the Wudang sect.

HyunGong Jinin.

The two clashed, shouting their titles. The fight was barbaric despite the formal exchange of names.

"Hyaaah!"

Moon Shadow Demon struck HyunGong Jinin in the face with the sword hilt. Thud! Teeth. Blood. White fragments and red liquid flew.

"Wooaaah!"

HyunGong Jinin roared, baring their broken teeth, then drove their fingertips into Moon Shadow Demon’s eye. Puk! Moon Shadow Demon smothered the wet popping sound with laughter. The Taoist’s howl and the demonic cultist’s laughter flowed together.

Another pair of black and white figures eclipsed their scene.

"Demonic Cult's Warrior, first rank, Ghost-Soul Flame Demon. I will claim your head."

Captain of the Demonic Cult's Spirit Consolation Unit.

Ghost-Soul Flame Demon.

“Amitabha. This humble monk is called JoMyung.”

Head Monk of the Shaolin Temple.

Zen Master JoMyung.

"As one of the four Demon Lords, I shall let you have the first three attacks."

“Do not forget that admirable respect of yours for a disciple of the Buddha!”

At Ghost-Soul Flame Demon’s words, Zen Master JoMyung immediately charged, wrapping their prayer beads around their fist and swinging. Ghost-Soul Flame Demon, who had promised three free moves, instantly ducked and rose into a headbutt to JoMyung’s stomach. “Kugh!” JoMyung groaned, then gave a hollow laugh.

"You said you'd allow three moves?"

"Did you believe that?"

"Did it seem like I did?"

"Yes." The sound of blood trickling intervened. "It seemed so."

Ghost-Soul Flame Demon dropped to their knees, their nose broken. At the instant the headbutt landed, JoMyung had driven their knee upward as though they had anticipated it. With Ghost-Soul Flame Demon’s face smeared in streaming blood, JoMyung stroked their beard in satisfaction.

"My acting skills haven’t rusted."

"This damn stone monk..."

"Take the remaining two moves!"

Zen Master JoMyung seized both of Ghost-Soul Flame Demon’s ears and tried to drive their knee up again. Ghost-Soul Flame Demon instead smashed their forehead down against that knee. Thunk...! Bone crushed cartilage. “Kugh!” JoMyung hopped about, clutching their injured knee.

"Kahaha! You lot, without Ki, are just riffraff! True to your real skills! Good! The true faces of the Orthodox Faction are revealed to the world today!"

Captain of the Demonic Cult's Extermination Troop.

Sword Demon.

"......So vulgar, truly vulgar."

Elder of the Mount Hua Sect.

Chaos Flower Sword.

The two sword masters struck blades. Clang! The instant their swords met, both cried out and clutched their hands. Neither could endure the shock transmitted by the collision.

Yet, neither let go of their swords.

The Sword Demon grinned, baring their teeth.

“Fuck... Quit trying to protect your pride and let go, will you?”

Chaos Flower Sword replied through gritted teeth.

"That's something you should say to yourself......"

Their eyes met, and they struck their swords together again. Clang! A stifled cry. Clang! The sound of swallowed breath. Clang! Hands and shoulders trembling violently. At last, blood ran from both of their torn palms, mingling with the blood from their bitten lips.

Still, neither released their swords.

White robes fluttered. Black robes swayed. Under the bright sun, shadows formed. Between the sun and shadows, the Orthodox and Demonic Cults clashed. Blood splattered.

“The Demonic Way beneath heaven! The common people alone are supreme!”

"Uaaaah! Die! Die!"

"Moyong's scoundrels, come forth now!"

In a world devoid of all but grayscale.

What flowed vividly there was not the splendor of martial arts.

It was solely the red blood of humans.

"Huhu, haha... Ughaha."

Amidst it, a particularly crimson laughter erupted.

"Ughahaha! Ha! Hahaha!"

It was sheer madness.

"So many Orthodox dogs!"

The Master shouted.

"Good. Come at me. Let's see who's better with a sword!"

Amidst the Orthodox warriors, a dark shadow rampaged. The sun seemed to rise and set at tens of times its usual speed. A woman who had spent three years bedridden without any Ki, merely that, yet her movements stood out prominently among the martial artists, equally unable to use their martial skills.

"How ludicrous!"

The Master laughed.

"Shaolin's Head Monk, such tricks won't stop me. Wudang's charlatan, do you think you can shoulder the karma of my sect?"

These words were familiar to me,

but they must have been unfamiliar to Master herself.

"Despair floods the world, submerging Mount Song. Hatred flares up, setting Mount Wudang ablaze! The Demonic Cult is the heaven of the martial realm, and I am the heaven of the Demonic Cult! Do you have the right to discuss the beyond heavens?"

"You lot are not enough! Orthodox lackeys!"

The Master roared.

"Namgung Woon!"

Amidst the clashing of swords and colliding of flesh, the Master called out.

"Where is Namgung Woon?"

Laughing out loud, the Master,

“Bring me the retired family head of the Namgung clan! Present the leader of the Martial Alliance! No matter how dense the martial world’s forests or how vast its sky, beneath all heaven there is only one genius capable of receiving my sword! Four Demon Lords! Drag Namgung Woon before me at once!”

Her laughter was crimson and exhilarating.

"Hmm."

The old man took a step into the increasingly reddened world.

"I'm reminded of the first day the great war commenced."

The leader of the Martial Alliance stood bare-chested. It was a bitter winter, and without internal energy the cold should have pierced him to the bone, yet he made that very cold his weapon. His skeletal, desiccated muscles had hardened taut.

“We failed to settle it on the first day, so the war continued into the second. We failed again on the second, so it was deferred to the third. In the end, we made the wrong move on the very first day! Looking back, we should have poured everything into the fight from the start.”

Hoo…

The leader of the Martial Alliance took a deep breath.

He then assumed a stance and beckoned with his hand.

“Come at me, demon. Today, heaven’s fortune stands with me.”

Head of the Martial Alliance.

The Great Axe Sage.

"Heavenly luck, eh? Good."

Crunch,

The Master stepped on the snow.

"Today's heavenly luck will only be your fate."

Lord of the Demonic Cult.

The Heavenly Demon.