Chronicles of the Heavenly Demon Chapter 172

Boom!

Peng Ah-hu, face red with fury and frustration, smashed the table.

The thick wooden table cracked. Peng Ah-hu's anger was just that strong.

Why was he so angry that he smashed the table?

Peng Ah-hu roared, “Why?!” 

Everyone who gathered in the room shut up. Peng Ah-hu glanced around with beady eyes.

“Why can't you win?”

Everyone was silent. Some of them, though, quietly closed their eyes. 

Like Peng Ah-hu, they were part of the 72 Supreme Masters. 

“Speak up!”

One of them answered Peng Ah-hu: “There are not enough masters.”

“Not enough masters?” echoed Peng Ah-hu.

The man speaking stroked his chin. “I am one of the 72, so I also have responsibility, but I don't think we can do much against a Demonic Master. And two such Demonic Masters are running wild.”

Peng Ah-hu did not speak, taking a long sip of tea from the cup of tea to quench the burning in his throat.

“That is not enough, even if they have been running to the ends of the world. Thanks to you all, I can't even imagine how many bases we've lost today.”

“Hnng.”

Peng Ah-hu made a groan of acknowledgement. There was absolutely no way to stop the Demonic Masters from wreaking havoc.

As long as they were still human, Demonic Masters would suffer against combined forces. And if they continued to fight, Demonic Masters would become exhausted.

There was a problem though. 

More specifically, the military forces of the Martial Alliance in Anshun were currently dispersed. 

This was because they had divided their forces in order to preemptively take the high ground. 

Due to this division of troops, each base barely had any soldiers assigned to it. 

As the group thought about this problem, someone muttered, “Could the Cult of the Heavenly Demon have predicted this?”

The question silenced them all. 

Predicted or not, it was true that the Alliance was playing right into the Cult's hands. 

“It's not too late now, so why don't we gather our forces together?”

“In one place?”

The others nodded. 

“There is a basin in the middle of Anshun where a battle might be worth it. The Cult of the Heavenly Demon will have no choice but to come down from the mountains and into the basin if we are to fight…”

That was a valid point. If the Alliance could unite all their forces in one area, they would be able to fight back, hopefully with minimal damages. 

“That's not a bad idea,” Peng Ah-hu agreed. A moment later, however, he shook his head. “But not as it is.” 

At that moment, some people widened their eyes. They turned to Peng Ah-hu and asked, “Are you planning to use thatit?”

Peng Ah-hu nodded slowly. “To those coming from outside, shouldn't we at least give them a gift?”

Peng Ah-hu's words were barely finished when there was a great cry from their mountain peak. 

Waaaahhhh!

It was the sound of demonic soldiers coming to occupy the base.

Hearing that, Peng Ah-hu laughed viciously. Even if you try to retreat, I'll show you the right way down, you filthy demons.

Boom-boom-boom-

Fire erupted.

At the same time, it seemed that lightning struck. A spherical bolt of lightning slammed down between the demonic practitioners.

Boom!

The bolt exploded and the shock blasted outwards. 

“Ahhh!”

“Rrrrgh!”

“My arm!”

“My legs!”

Screams erupted after a single bolt, but several more lightning bolts fell. 

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Boom, boom!

A loud thunderclap rolled through the mountain. 

Hearing the loud sound, several people turned towards the source, only to see flames cutting through the air. 

As they followed the flames through the sky, lightning struck once more.

No, it wasn't lighting.

One demonic practitioner cried out in surprise and recognition, “A cannon! The Orthodox are using gunpowder!”

“Gunpowder?”

Woon-seong's eyebrows raised at Sang Gwan-chuk's report. 

Just their use was enough for Woon-seong to be surprised.

“Fortunately, there weren't too many shells, since they stopped after fifteen rounds. But it is clear that they had access to gunpowder and artillery.”

“Hmnn,” Woon-seong hummed in thought. 

Ammunition and artillery were powerful enough to change the course of the war.

That was why the use of ammunition and artillery was strictly prohibited by national law.

How strict were these regulations? Even the Sichuan Tang Clan, who were authorized to use poison by the Imperial Court, were not permitted to have access to gunpowder.

It was absolutely not a tool allowed for use in the wars of Murim.

Nevertheless, they had been used. 

Thus it was natural for questions to rise.  

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It made no sense that the gunpowder prohibited by national law appeared in the Martial Alliance. 

And had been so obviously used at that. 

But the reason the Alliance could so blatantly use gunpowder was simple.

The Imperial Court has allowed you to use it. 

The Imperial Court had long since fallen into the hands of the Cult of the Inverted Sky. Since the Inverted Sky had also infiltrated the Martial Alliance, there was nothing strange about the two supporting each other. 

In addition, there was also Jwa Do-gyul as the lord of the Martial Alliance.

Woon-seong chewed on his lips. “The damage was unexpected.”

Sang Gwan-chuk ducked his head. 

Woon-seong shook his head. “I also find it unexpected, so it is not a military crime.”

Regardless of what Woon-seong said, Sang Gwan-chuk did not lift his head. 

Woon-seong sighed. “What happened to the injured soldiers?”

“We were able to recover all of them because the Alliance retreated to the basin after they ran out of cannonballs.”

Woon-seong raised his hand in a blessing. “Let all their bodies be laid within the temple.”

In the Cult of the Heavenly Demon, the temple was land hallowed by the Heavenly Demon.

A land of god's will.

In other words, it was the land closest to god. 

To be buried in the temple was the greatest posthumous honor that could be given.  

It's unfortunate. Woon-seong closed his eyes for a few moments. Had he been there, he could have stopped the cannons. 

If so, the damage could have been reduced. 

As the man who led the Cult, Woon-seong felt responsible. 

He opened his mouth and said, “I must raise a memorial service.”

Sang Gwan-chuk nodded. A memorial service in Murim — especially for the Demonic — was different from a general memorial service. 

A life for a life. 

The souls of the dead in Kangho could only be appeased by the lives of their enemies. 

Sang Gwan-chuk raised his head and said, “I will prepare a grand memorial service.”

At first glance, the basin in Anshun looked like an open area.

This was because it was easy to see the front, so it was easy to see when others approached.

The Martial Alliance's forces had gathered at the center. 

Exhaustion showed on their faces. This was because they had been chased by the Demonic Army for the past few days. 

“But now that we've come down to the basin, there is nothing to chase,” someone muttered and the others nodded. 

“Perhaps we can have a good fight here.”

“Yes, we can't just run away forever. We have been eating shit for a few years, so we'll just have to fight for better things.”

Some of the young soldiers gripped their swords even while resting. 

At their words, an older soldier sighed. “Hah…”

Some of the younguns turned to him, burning with determination. 

“Hey, old man, what are you so worried about that you have to be sighing? There's nowhere to be chased here, so the only thing to do is fight.”

The old man, Jang Han-su, sighed. “Hey, young man. I've been on the battlefield for a very long time, ever since I was young like you.”

“Old man, were you an infantryman?” frowned the soldier. 

He was a consumable soldier, written off as an infantryman. The old man frowned, but nodded. 

Generally, people would be somewhat disrespectful when faced with infantry. 

Meanwhile, the soldier glanced at Jang Han-su's body. 

“But you survived for so long.”

“Yes, I've had one thing better than others since I was young, which has allowed me to survive for so long.”

The profession of the foot soldiers at the front were to be arrowheads. So it was hard to survive for long. 

But the old man in front of him said that he had a talent which allowed for survival. 

Although it was just a lowly foot soldier, it was natural to be curious about survival skills. 

“What is it?” the young man asked. 

The old man briefly answered, “My senses.”

“Senses?” The young man titled his head. Then, after a bolt of realization, he concluded that the old man meant his sixth sense or intuition. He laughed, “Puhahahaha!” 

The young man scornfully said, “So it was possible for you old man to survive just because of your gut feelings?”

The old man murmured, “Yes, that is right. But somehow this battle is very unsettling. I have never been more anxious.”

The young man's expression darkened at the man's grim words. It was because he felt uncomfortable talking about anxiety before the battle.

The young man shouted, “Hmph, check your blades again if you have the time for nonsense. That cheap iron sword won't save your life.”

“I still have a feeling….”

The old man opened his mouth again and the young man interrupted him. 

“Oh, come on, don't believe that feeling—! ”

Puchi-

Immediately, the young man's head fell forward, punctured by something that had flown through the air. 

Forward was the direction of where the old man sat. 

Blood and brains were now pooling at the old man's feet. 

Seeing it, the old man trembled. 

“Seems my anxiousness was justified.”

Arrows began to rain down on the Martial Alliance's soldiers. 

Weng—

Chapter end