I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple

I had a feeling this would happen.

What was the point of gathering talented people and strategizing if it all unraveled like this?

I couldn’t see the plan unfolding as expected, but strangely, I felt a calm sense of inevitability. In the back of my mind, I had been bracing for something like this to happen.

”You said that things wouldn’t go south,” I grumbled.

”I’ve got no excuse,” Carzakh murmured, his voice subdued.

I hadn’t anticipated that response. It didn’t seem to suit him at all.

”It can’t be helped. Reinforcements will arrive soon. We just need to hold out until then.”

I spoke loudly enough for Juan to hear, though it was a bluff. I hadn’t informed Junian that I had left. This outing had been too abrupt for that.

As I had been resting in the infirmary of the instructors’ building, the atmosphere there seemed to press down on me, and my focus had zeroed in on Juan’s room.

Why hasn’t this bastard returned? I had wondered.

He’d been wandering around late into the night. By 11 p.m., his room had still been empty. Puzzled, I had slipped out of the infirmary and started searching. That’s how I had ended up here.

Naturally, I hadn’t had time to convey the situation to Junian or Luke.

”Huup...!” At that moment, Carzakh got up.

His unexpected resolve caught me off guard.

”Are you okay?” I asked. ”You seem to be bleeding heavily.”

”I’ve stopped the bleeding. Can’t say I’m in great shape, but I won’t be dead weight.”

Still, it was hard to expect much from him. The wound in his abdomen was serious—a vital area that affected every movement.

”He attacks with his tongue,” Carzakh shared.

I nodded. ”I noticed. I killed someone like him in the mountains.”

Then, I heard a chuckle. It was Juan. ”Osel was a very promising member of the church. I was the one who brokered his contract with the demon...”

I had no comment to that.

”More importantly, Luan Badniker... That last move of yours—you’re far more capable than I realized. Have you been hiding your talent all this time?”

It had been a while since someone asked me something like that.

I gauged the distance between us and replied, ”Not really.”

”Is that so?” The moment the words left his mouth, his tongue shot out again.

It was fast. I wouldn’t have seen it at all if not for the training I’d undergone on Spirit Mountain.

Damn.

He wasn’t aiming at me. The tongue was headed straight for Carzakh. If he weren’t injured, it would be a different story, but could he handle it now?

Clang!

Fortunately, Carzakh blocked the tongue.

Or so it seemed.

Slurp.

The tongue wrapped around the sword, coiling like a snake around its prey. It tightened with disturbing precision, then yanked the weapon and Carzakh along with it.

”Gah!” Carzakh stumbled but refused to let go of the sword. That kind of tenacity was admirable for a swordsman, but I wasn’t sure it was the right choice.

The tongue yanked Carzakh and his sword upward, flinging them through the air with a violent whip-like motion.

”Carza—!”

The strength behind the attack was immense. Carzakh soared like a tossed pebble, vanishing into the dark sky.

I stared blankly at the sky before twisting my upper body to avoid another tongue lash.

Juan smiled. ”I’m not interested in someone already at death’s door, Hero Disciple Luan.”

He spoke surprisingly clearly for someone with his tongue still extended.

”You, though... You look like the kind who’d be a real pain if left alive. Better make sure you die here—before your reinforcements show up.”

I didn’t respond.

”Then again, if I had to guess, there probably aren’t any coming, are there?”

Shit. He’s quick to catch on. Well, okay. Things have taken a turn for the worse, but what was all that training for, if not this?

The anger, emptiness, and shame I felt after the training camp, the 100 days on Spirit Mountain, and the spar with Senior Brother Arang all came rushing back, a storm of memories overwhelming me.

I exhaled deeply, then locked eyes with my opponent. ”Let’s get on it with it, Priest Juan. Just you and me—no interruptions.”

***

Carzakh soared to dizzying heights. The potent Qi he’d gained from consuming the Sapphire Snake surged through him, setting off alarm bells in his mind.

The view was breathtaking—a vast midnight forest stretching below him, but the moment of awe was short-lived.

The ascent turned into a plummet. This wasn’t a moment for poetic reflections anymore.

As Carzakh was plummeting, the air resistance made it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open. Meanwhile, pain flared in his abdomen, leaving him in no condition to react.

He instinctively crossed his arms to brace for impact—and was grateful he did. The thick canopy broke his fall, the branches clawing at his body and slowing his descent. At last, the thrashing ended, and he hit the forest floor.

Carzakh rolled onto the ground. At least he was alive, though his arms, ribs, and legs felt fractured.

”Damn...” He forced himself to his feet.

The green tongue that had emerged from Juan’s mouth was lethal. More than that, it had caught him completely off guard. He’d assumed Juan was dead. That was the only reason the attack had landed.

Carzakh, you idiot. He had spoken as if he had already forgotten the past, but now, in hindsight, he felt nothing but pathetic.

His opponent wasn’t just anyone. Juan was a priest, a high-ranking church member. Within the church, there were fewer than twenty executives, and Carzakh should never have assumed he could kill Juan with a single stab to the throat.

Yet, he had an excuse. The priest Carzakh had encountered in the mountains hadn’t possessed this kind of regenerative power.

The boy is in danger.

Though walking was difficult, Carzakh forced himself toward the clearing. Upon arrival, he froze, mesmerized by the sight before him.

The battle unfolded so intensely in the expansive clearing that it felt almost cramped. A green tongue twisted and shifted shape at will, while Luan’s flawless responses left Carzakh in awe. His precision revealed a level of skill that even Carzakh found difficult to gauge, especially given Luan’s youth.

Luan, what the hell happened to you?

He swallowed his rising doubts. Now wasn’t the time. He refocused, analyzing the situation. He wanted to jump in immediately, but he’d only drag Luan down in his current state.

I need help. I have to get back to camp and bring reinforcements.

However, he couldn’t bring just anyone. Some of the instructors could be Juan’s subordinates. Worse, bringing too many people could spook Juan and drive him to flee.

The Theology Master and Captain Luke.

These two were the most capable and trustworthy individuals he could rely on. Together with Luan, their combined strength would be enough to defeat even a priest.

At that moment, Carzakh stopped hesitating. He would bury the memory of his old friend Juan once and for all, treating him solely as a priest of the church.

Please don’t die, Luan.

Carzakh owed Luan yet another debt.

He staggered towards the camp.

***

Junian’s earlier explanation had confirmed what Luan had suspected: the position of priest was almost always reserved for those deeply embedded within the church’s inner circle. So, how had Juan managed to become a priest?

The Dark Pope, the very incarnation of evil, had personally intervened to win him over because Juan possessed an extraordinary, rare trait. He could serve multiple demon kings simultaneously

Aside from the Dark Pope, no one else—not even the Young Dark Popes who inherited this lineage—had ever been allowed to do so.

Demon kings were notoriously prideful beings, and although the empire lumped all their worshippers together under the label of the Dark Church, the internal dynamics were far more complex.

For one, the six demon kings didn’t get along. They had differing temperaments, and their scriptures were completely distinct. Each faction followed its own doctrines, rules, and member characteristics. Had it not been for the Dark Pope, who acted as a unifying force, they would have splintered into separate factions long ago.

Naturally, the demon kings resented their worshippers’ divided loyalties. Yet Juan worshiped not one, but three demon kings: the Black Swamp Demon King, Ahop; the Blood Moon Demon King, Hadenaihar; and the Green-Tongued Demon King, Tantata.

Ahop, the most powerful of the three, required the utmost devotion. Its scriptures were the longest and most complex.

In contrast, Tantata was far more unpredictable. Even if someone wasn’t its follower, Tantata would likely offer a boon if it found their interests aligned or if the price was right—and sometimes, for no reason at all. However, granting real power was a different matter entirely.

Juan no longer kept his green tongue in his mouth. He pulled it out with his hands, whipping it around like a weapon.

This green tongue was the power bestowed upon him by Tantata. Its saliva, constantly dripping from its surface, was corrosive and could neutralizee any weapon or armor it touched. Even the famed imperial sword, known for its exceptional hardness, couldn’t withstand its corrosive touch.

What the hell is this sword? Juan wondered as the shabby sword Luan wielded showed no signs of corrosion.

Even more surprising, the incompetent Badniker, whom Juan had never bothered to watch, was performing far better than expected.

What the hell is it with this hero disciple? Juan grumbled inwardly.

”Fifteen years old. How did you become this accomplished at such a young age? Even the Iron-Blooded Lord couldn’t have confronted a priest head-on at this age.”

The fact that Juan voiced such a thought mid-battle only proved how genuinely stunned he was.

However, Luan remained unimpressed. ”Used a couple tricks, that’s all.”

It was an incomprehensible remark.

Juan chose not to dwell on it.

The moment he tightened his grip on the green tongue, once flexible as a whip, hardened. Holding it in both hands, he thrust it forward like a spear, the motion happening so quickly it seemed as if it took less than a breath.

Luan dodged effortlessly, his calm response making Juan feel as though someone had struck the back of his head.

Throughout the intense exchange, Luan had remained calm and unflustered, responding instantly to the shift in his opponent’s tactics. Such composure wasn’t the result of mere talent.

Does he have actual combat experience? At only fifteen years old?’

Juan swung his green spear, simultaneously reshaping it. The tip broke off, forming a dagger, while the shaft elongated into a sword.

He fluidly transitioned between weapons—sword, saber, spear, rod, blunt instrument, whip—too many to count. Even Luan was impressed.

”I’d have struggled a lot if I hadn’t sparred with my senior brother,” Luan remarked.

”Senior Brother?” Juan asked, confused.

”Yes. Ever heard of shape-memory alloy?” Luan inquired.

”Can’t say I have,” Juan replied.

”Neither had I,” Luan muttered.

Suddenly, Juan felt as if lightning had struck in front of him. In the span of a breath, Luan’s sword was already at his face. By the time Juan processed it, the edge was already slick with blood. The pain and sound followed a heartbeat later.

Stumbling back, Juan clutched the severed stump of his right arm, disbelief clouding his expression.

”Does it hurt?” Luan asked with a grin. ”It hurt me too.”