Third Senior Brother was notoriously talkative. While I wasn't exactly quiet myself, I often found myself simply nodding along during our conversations.
Of course, he wasn't just talkative—he knew how to engage others with his words. Second Senior Sister and Fourth Senior Brother, who rarely showed much emotion, would often smile during their chats with him. Even Eldest Senior Brother, usually reserved with only a faint smile, couldn't help but laugh out loud in his presence.
With all that talk, Third Senior Brother had left behind a wealth of memorable sayings, a few of which resonated deeply with me.
" Youngest Disciple, do you understand? Getting ahead of yourself is a sin."
"Getting ahead of yourself is a sin," I muttered.
Taken literally, it advised tempering one's expectations before undertaking anything. But more broadly, it called for calm and composure in all situations.
For a martial artist, maintaining composure and an unwavering mindset was paramount. Yet, as I prepared for my battle with Juan, I couldn't shake my nerves.
Won't it be a problem if I go all out against Juan? What if I overwhelm him so much that he bolts?
I had heard from Assad that the priests possessed a technique called Ghost Road. If Juan activated it, his survival would be all but guaranteed.
In hindsight, my worry was unfounded. Even after losing an arm, Juan seemed unaffected. If anything, his attacks grew sharper.
His attitude changed now that he faced a hero disciple who showed unexpected skill. It was as if he had encountered a mortal enemy. The change sent shivers down my spine.
The pressure was unlike anything I'd felt in actual combat. It wasn't a single moment of tension—it was unrelenting. The goosebumps never stopped. At some point, they simply became constant.
Can this still be called goosebumps?
Whatever the case, it became clear that I held a slight edge in the midst of the fierce exchange. But that advantage was fragile. If I had to quantify it, it felt like a 60-40 lead that could flip back to 50-50 in an instant. One mistake, and it would be gone.
Juan's martial skills were exceptional. His mastery of any weapon he wielded had reached a level worthy of being called a master.
Despite the variety in his techniques, his style never felt chaotic. Rather, it was sophisticated.
Nevertheless, in terms of adaptability, it couldn't compare to Senior Brother Arang's Ten Thousand Transformation Diamond Technique. No matter how many weapons Juan used, his style remained rooted in close-range weapons.
In contrast, Senior Brother Arang seamlessly incorporated bare-handed techniques—fist, palm, hand, finger, and kick—while effortlessly taking to the air, using long-range weapons like cannons.
The slight psychological edge I had in this fight stemmed from the sparring match we had before.
In terms of skill... Juan is one or two levels above me?
After 100 days of rigorous training, I had gained great insight, yet I still couldn't fully overcome the limitations of time.
There was no reason to feel anger or despair about this. Juan was of the same generation as Carzakh, and thus, from the same era as the Iron-Blooded Lord.
In the end, I closed the skill gap by severing one of his arms, simplifying the battle to a test of endurance.
I used the Thunder Stomp Footwork, seamlessly combining the Galaxy Sword and White Sun Eclipse. I never would have attempted this without the rigorous training on Spirit Mountain. Executing three complex martial arts simultaneously in combat would be impossible for those with average practical skills, but for me, it was well within reach.
Still, I couldn't afford to let my guard down just because I had severed one of his arms. Despite my advantage, I remained cautious.
At that moment, Juan made a surprising move. For the first time, the man who had been relentless in his attacks abruptly widened the distance between us.
Naturally, retreating in the midst of a close battle wasn't easy. The price for his withdrawal was a deep diagonal cut across his chest—both internal and external wounds.
Still, this made me uneasy.
Juan perched on a tree in a position that was hard to track, his gaze fixed on me with a complex expression. "I thought there were only two of the Iron-Blooded Lord's children to watch out for. Heero and Nero..."
"Hector?" I responded, never breaking eye contact, "Hector?"
"He's still a long way off. You know that," he replied.
As expected, his insight was accurate for someone sitting in the position of Great Master.I didn't underestimate Hector, but he still had much to prove compared to the eldest son and second daughter of the Badniker family.
Juan raised his hand and said, "I concede. I lost today."
What kind of stunt was he trying to pull now?
I stared at him, eyes wide.
"I'm going to remember you, Luan Badniker," he continued. "From now on, the church will track your every move."
"Running away with your tail between your legs?" I taunted.
Despite my provocation, Juan simply laughed. "Yes. I am. But I promise you this—Going forward, I'll be your most troublesome enemy."
"If you leave here, I will kill your Young Dark Pope," I threatened.
Juan was startled. He quickly masked his surprise, forcing a laugh. "What absurdity are you spouting?"
"Does it sound like a bluff? Then go," I goaded. "In return, Evan Helvin will die by my hand. That's a promise."
"How much do you know?" Juan's voice turned cold, threatening.
He was clearly trying to intimidate me, but his threats didn't carry much weight while bleeding like that.
I chuckled, savoring the moment. "Your tail's too long, Priest Juan. If you wanted this operation to stay airtight, you should've infiltrated alone."
I hadn't expected much from that jab, but Juan bit down on the bait hard.
"Ainsburn. How disappointing. I thought he was a fool, but at least one who knew how to keep his mouth shut," he muttered through a crooked smile.
That was an unexpected bonus. I'd only hoped to confirm the existence of other informants—not identify one outright.
Ainsborne was the Law Master. He was an annoying fellow, so I disliked him.
Birds of a feather flock together.
Juan glared at me. "Did you tell anyone else about the Young Dark Pope?"
"Who knows? What do you think?" I countered, feigning ignorance.
"At the very least, Carzakh must know," he muttered darkly. "Fine."
Juan exhaled deeply. Then, the green tongue in his hand began to twist and reshape itself once more.
"That—"
Slowly, the green tongue transformed into a rod. While a rod could be a weapon, this one seemed ill-suited for battle. If anything, it resembled a staff more than a weapon.
At that moment, Juan closed his eyes and started chanting, "رب اللسان الأخضر...!" (Lord of the Green Tongue...!)
I was astonished. The voice was bizarre—unlike anything I'd ever heard—and the words were in a language I couldn't understand. Still, there was no mistaking it. It was the same language Juan had used when he desperately summoned Ahop.
My thoughts raced as I moved using Thunder Stomp Footwork.
How?!
Even if he was a priest, summoning a demon king under these circumstances was impossible. The ritual hadn't even been properly prepared, let alone initiated. According to Junian, even priests weren't safe when attempting to commune with a demon king without adequate precautions.
—This... Messenger! You must not let him finish that chant!
The Martial God's voice cut through my thoughts. His usual calm was gone, replaced by urgency.
"As I suspected. Is he summoning the demon king?"
—No, that's not it! If you let him complete the incantation, you'll be caught in the power of that evil being!
"What is he trying to do?"
—If I've interpreted it correctly, that incantation is...
I paused, letting the Martial God finish his explanation.
"Seriously?"
—Why would I lie to you, Messenger?
"Hm..." Was the Martial God being truthful? It didn't take long to decide. Of course, he was. There was no reason for him to deceive me now.
In that case... I gathered my thoughts and, with just two leaps, I reached Juan's height. Then, I swung the Seven Sins Sword at him as he continued chanting.
Slash!
The sword narrowly grazed his throat.
Even while chanting, Juan had managed to dodge my strike. As if that wasn't enough, he grabbed the sword with his bare hands.
"You look very surprised. Did you think I was performing some kind of descent ritual?"
"What are you doing then?"
"As expected, you don't understand the demonic language. Hero Disciple Luan, do you know? Ignorance is a tragedy." He smiled, repeating a line I had heard before my regression. "Remember this—you're going to die here today because of your ignorance."
Suddenly, darkness surged and swallowed us both. Silence fell in every direction.
Then Juan's voice echoed from within. "Come, now. Let's go to Hell together!"
***
It was a pitch-black space. It wasn't merely the absence of light; something about it made my mind and body feel strangely adrift. It unsettled me. After all, this was a sensation I had never encountered before.
As I moved, my body swayed as if I was swimming.
"Ah, you've arrived," came a voice.
In the darkness, I saw Juan. It was surreal. Despite the solitary light source, his figure stood out clearly. He was missing an arm, and his chest bore a deep wound, blood flowing freely, but he seemed unaffected.
I instinctively reached for the Seven Sins Sword, only to realize it was gone.
"Fighting here is strictly forbidden, Hero Disciple Luan," Juan said smoothly
I had just begun to lunge but stopped myself. He didn't seem to be stalling for time or spouting nonsense.
"Is this Hell? If this place is yours alone, then Hell is far more miserable than I imagined," I remarked.
" Hmm. You're unfamiliar with interstice spaces, aren't you?"
I stayed silent.
"Judging by your expression, this is your first time hearing the term," Juan said with a smile. "Should I call it the road to Hell, so to speak? Interstice spaces are passages you must pass through when traversing between worlds."
"Then why am I here?" I asked.
"Because I brought you here with my power," he answered. "Normally, this would be impossible, but with the help of a god of disaster's artifact, it's possible."
I had suspected the green tongue was no ordinary item. It turned out that it was an artifact all along.
I never encountered it before my regression. I clicked my tongue inwardly, realizing how dangerous it was to rely too heavily on pre-regression knowledge.
Still, things were starting to click. "You used Ghost Road, didn't you?"
Juan's smile widened. "You know of Ghost Road? It seems the Iron-Blooded Lord has thoroughly educated you about our church."
"If I kill you, can I get out of here?" I asked.
"Quite the opposite. If I die, your soul will be trapped here. Forever."
That is... inconvenient.
"In fact, this is the first time I used Ghost Road on two people at once," he continued. "Rather troublesome, honestly. Seems the choice now lies with you."
I frowned. "Choice?"
"That's right...! You've been granted the right to choose the god you'll face—an utterly undeserved right...!" Juan's voice rose into a frenzied shout. "The six gods of disaster...! You can face one of them! Now, Luan Badniker, take your pick! Will you be stuck here for the rest of your life, or will you have an audience with God alongside me?!"
I recalled the Martial God's words.
— That is the return spell only the worshippers of Hell use! I don't know the exact workings, but he has amplified the power with the artifact in his hand! If you remain here, you'll be caught in the recall too! Then you will be forced to face a Lord of Hell!
So far, everything had unfolded just as the Martial God had predicted. In other words, the gamble had been half successful.
The critical part comes now.
As for which evil god—no, which demon king—I would meet, there was only one choice.
"The Colorless Demon King," I said slowly.
Flash!
In the next instant, the world turned upside down.