Chapter 22: The Demon of Sanggreng Crushed

“Ho ho ho… Where do you think you’re going?!” Bladra Wikuyana roared.

“I told you already—once you step into this place, you’ll leave your life behind!”

Wiro Sableng didn’t respond. If there were ten evil men as powerful as this Bladra Wikuyana in the world, surely the earth would descend into chaos. As the foe lunged again, Wiro met the assault with his signature technique—Fortress Tornado Sweeping the Ocean.

For a moment, the blows from Bladra’s staff were parried. Wiro seized the opportunity, leaping into the air and diving back down with the Monkey Throws the Fruit strike. A thunderous explosion echoed across the canyon.

But Wiro was forced back onto the rocky courtyard, his attack deflected by a blast of dark wind from the opponent’s staff. He found himself backed against the eastern cliff wall.

Cursing inwardly, Wiro watched as Bladra’s staff swept at his head. He sprang aside just in time—the weapon smashed the cliff face to rubble!

Bladra turned, ready to attack again, but suddenly froze. His crimson eyes stared wide at the double-bladed axe now gripped in Wiro’s hand. The man known as the Whirlwind of the West shivered. Twenty years ago, he had seen for himself the terrifying power of that weapon—the Fire Dragon Axe 212. Could he withstand it now?

“Whirlwind of the West,” said Wiro calmly, “You’d better start repenting now. I don’t think you’ll have the chance much longer…!”

Bladra Wikuyana suppressed his fear with a booming laugh. Knowing the axe’s terrible might, he made the first move! Waves of black energy rolled toward Wiro.

The young warrior countered with the stance Madman Swats the Fly. The Fire Dragon Axe flashed left and right, releasing a high-pitched hum like thousands of angry hornets!

Bladra was stunned. His mystical staff—once unstoppable—could no longer move freely! It was pinned, parried, and overpowered by the wind-pressure of the deadly axe. Desperate, he unleashed a furious series of lethal techniques, but he couldn’t break free from the suppression.

After ninety-eight exchanges, the elder was on the defensive. Cold sweat trickled down his back. He fought to hold back the deadly strikes. One desperate block sent his staff clashing against the axe—and the tip of his staff was sheared clean off!

Terrified of another clash, Bladra’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape. He growled in frustration. He had ordered his disciples to take down the rope ladder—the only exit from this rocky abyss!

His divided focus—part on fleeing, part on fending off attacks—left him wide open. Wiro noticed this clearly. If he had wanted, he could’ve already finished off the bearded man with a wooden hand and leg. A strange tune whistled from Wiro’s lips as he struck for the waist and spun the axe.

The twin blades carved a semicircle—one of them slicing off Bladra’s wooden right hand! The fake limb, fashioned like a sickle, flew into the air. Bladra leapt back, face ashen. He groaned in pain as a strange heat from the axe seeped into his body through the severed stump.

“Only your fake arm, old man. Why look like a corpse?” Wiro laughed loudly.

“Now I’m coming for that wooden leg of yours!” With a sharp whistle, Wiro lunged. His axe cleaved toward Bladra’s head.

Unwilling to clash weapons, Bladra dodged and countered with a bare-handed strike, unleashing a gale. But with the Fire Dragon Axe in play, even his strongest techniques were meaningless!

The axe hacked at his shoulder, swept around to his waist, and soared again toward his skull. The old warrior was overwhelmed. When the axe suddenly slashed downward, he couldn’t dodge in time. The blade struck—cutting off his wooden right leg!

Staggering but not yet fallen, Bladra leapt back from the fight. His face was pale and soaked with sweat. Hatred, vengeance, and bloodlust burned in his heart. Leaning on the remains of his staff, Bladra closed his eyes and muttered incantations.

“What trick are you trying now?” Wiro said. “Listen to me. I’m giving you one last chance. If you repent and vow to use your skills to help others instead of harming them, I’ll let you go. What do you say?”

Bladra opened his eyes a sliver, lips curling in mockery. “Don’t think you’ve won, brat. I’m far from defeated. Look closely at my face, greenhorn… look closely!”

Wiro narrowed his eyes—and then flinched in surprise. Bladra’s head had multiplied into six grotesque black faces, each with sharp fangs, giant glowing green eyes, and tongues that drooped to his chest.

“Tch. Demon magic like that’s only good for scaring little kids,” Wiro scoffed.

He swept the axe through the air. A gust hurled Bladra back, but his monstrous visage remained. Suddenly, with a bestial roar, Bladra lunged—twelve green beams shot from the eyes of his six heads!

“Stubborn old fool. I try to spare you, and you respond with this nonsense!” Wiro growled.

He waited a beat—then, with a sudden howl, swung the Fire Dragon Axe from top to bottom!

Bladra Wikuyana collapsed without a sound, cleaved from head to chest. Blood poured across the rocky ground. The once-feared martial arts master of the dark realm met a gruesome end—his life spent spreading evil and training others to follow his wicked path.

Wiro scratched his shaggy hair and spat. The sight of all that blood disgusted him. He glanced at the axe in his right hand—its blades dripping red. He shook his head.

“Amazing axe… utterly amazing.” With a single breath, the blood vanished from the weapon. Then he tucked the sacred weapon, a gift from Grandmaster Sinto Gendeng, back into his sash.

For half an hour, Wiro explored the inner chambers of Sanggreng Cave. He found vast stores of food, money, and jewelry—most likely spoils of theft, hoarded by the martial school. Wiro took just enough for his journey.

Then he sat in a large chair and enjoyed a meal from the cave’s stash. When he stepped back outside, the sky had turned a fiery yellow-red—the sun was nearly set. Wiro searched for the rope ladder, hooked it on a jagged rock spike atop the cliff, and began climbing out.

Before leaving, he cast one final glance into the stone valley. Twenty-six corpses lay strewn below. Wiro scratched and shook his head, then turned and walked wherever his feet might take him. As dusk fell, his whistling echoed through the rocky wilds. Then he began to sing:

Red sky, gentle breeze…
Sun sinking in the west…
Night comes cold and dark…
Walking alone is no joy…
But walking with others isn’t always better…

His song, tuneless and meandering, repeated over and over. At last, at the edge of a steep descent, he stopped singing and sat on a boulder. Laughing to himself, he called out:

“Who’s the sneaky little stalker hiding behind that rock? Show your forehead—let me see if you’re human or ghost!”

Wiro eyed the crevice he had passed earlier. Silence.

“Ah, a shy one, huh? Must be bashful,” he said. “Well then, I’ll just come see for myself!”

With that, Wiro slammed his right palm into the stone. Part of the boulder broke off and tumbled away. From behind the rock came a startled gasp!

To Wiro’s surprise, the person who had been tailing him was… a girl!