ch 14

 

Chapter 14

The conversation from the afternoon haunted Munpyeong all day, tormenting his thoughts.

At first, the problem had been why Cheonma had deceived him. But after Cheonma's confession, that had become a secondary issue. He told himself it wasn't worth his consideration, yet he couldn't simply ignore it. As always, his instincts overwhelmed his emotions. With a threat looming right before him, his survival instincts wouldn't leave him be.

`Even if his feelings are real, it's impossible. Gender has nothing to do with it—he's the one person I can never, ever be with.`

It would be better if Cheonma had just been saying it for effect, but if he wasn't, it was a serious problem. His entire life could be held hostage. He had to find a solution, no matter what.

This incident alone was proof that Cheonma was not a person capable of considering others. He insisted he hadn't lied, claiming his feelings for Munpyeong were genuine. Yet even as Munpyeong stood before him, crying out in pain from the hurt he'd caused, Cheonma only defended his own righteousness, never once offering an apology.

If his words were true, then Munpyeong was the object of his affection. Even so, he made no effort to comprehend Munpyeong's suffering. It wasn't that he didn't know; he simply had no intention of bending. A terrifyingly thorough self-centeredness. His arrogance was truly unparalleled.

Of course, it wasn't entirely incomprehensible. He was one of the most powerful figures in the world, a man who had stood alone at the apex for decades. In all that long, long time, he’d never needed to bend for another, nor had he ever needed to yield to anyone. His haughtiness stemmed from his pride in himself, a pride backed by undeniable substance.

The only person such a being could fully understand was himself. He could analyze the minds of others, but he could not empathize. Munpyeong couldn't fathom what meaning there could be in sharing a heart with such a person.

If he had one advantage over Cheonma, it was his ability to know his own limits. He was all too aware that he could never handle Cheonma. Therefore, his dilemma wasn't whether to accept Cheonma or not. It was a more strategic concern: how could he escape from him effectively?

"Aren't you getting out?"

While he was lost in thought, the carriage arrived at an inn. The sun had set, and the surroundings were growing dim. Preoccupied, Munpyeong hadn't even realized the carriage had stopped. He remained seated, dazed, until the voice called out to him.

Cheonma, now perfectly returned to his guise as Yun Seung-hyo, was looking at him with a puzzled expression. Ja-ok had already scurried out, and even the silent Broken-Faced Wanderer was waiting patiently for him to disembark.

Munpyeong felt his face flush and hastily climbed out of the carriage. He thought, This is all Cheonma's fault, but whether he knew it or not, Cheonma simply gazed at him with Yun Seung-hyo's charming smile.

`Don't you dare smile with that man's face, you Cheonma.`

With the dregs of his old love still raw, Munpyeong felt a surge of emotion. He understood rationally that Cheonma was Yun Seung-hyo and Yun Seung-hyo was Cheonma, but emotionally, it was impossible to accept.

Even now, knowing everything, his heart ached when he saw that face. It seemed a love once started could not be so easily ended. To still have these lingering feelings after being treated this way… he couldn't tell if love was just that tenacious, or if he was just that foolish.

"Give the horses feed mixed with beans and find them a place to rest. We'll need rooms for each person. We'll eat after we've washed. Could you show us to our rooms?"

As usual, Cheonma acted as the leader of the group. The refined speech of a nobleman, perfectly imbued with the grace of official Mandarin. From his elegant and gentle demeanor to his kind eyes—the man Munpyeong had loved was unchanged in every way, and yet, he was no longer the man he had loved.

Munpyeong wondered if Cheonma truly understood the significance of what he had done to him. He wished that one day, that man could experience the same pain he was feeling now. But no matter how he thought about it, that day seemed unlikely to ever come, leaving him with a bitter and agonizing feeling.

***

Hearing a presence behind him, Munpyeong, who had been taking off his shirt, turned around.

He had assumed it would be the Broken-Faced Wanderer, but the person behind him was Yun Seung-hyo—no, it was Cheonma wearing Yun Seung-hyo's mask. Munpyeong's eyes darted past Cheonma's shoulder, a desperate hope that the Broken-Faced Wanderer had followed, but Cheonma cruelly shut the door, dashing that hope.

"…What is it?" Munpyeong asked awkwardly, pulling the half-removed shirt back over his shoulders.

Cheonma, carrying the basin of clear water and a white towel that Munpyeong had asked the Broken-Faced Wanderer for, smirked at Munpyeong, who was acting as shy as a cloistered lady.

"I heard you asked for your bandages to be changed. I thought it would be better if I did it instead of him."

From Munpyeong's perspective, anyone in the world would have been fine, as long as it wasn't Cheonma.

"This is not a task for you to handle yourself. You should have just left it."

"I can't help it. My mind keeps dwelling on it, even when I try not to. It’s a trouble I brought upon myself, so I can't blame anyone."

Despite Munpyeong’s sharp, undisguisedly sullen tone, Cheonma’s response was uncharacteristically mild. He placed the basin on the table and prepared to change the bandages.

"Aren't you going to take it off? You asked for the bandages to be changed, didn't you?"

With a clean bandage draped over one arm, Cheonma urged the hesitant Munpyeong. With a deep sigh, Munpyeong reluctantly removed his shirt.

According to the old woman, burns that fester draw in the evil energies between heaven and earth, so the bandages needed to be changed as frequently as possible. This was no time to be clutching his clothes just because Cheonma was present. If he wasn't careful, the wound could genuinely worsen, and he might die from the agony.

After Munpyeong took off his shirt and stood with his back to him, Cheonma began to unwind the old bandage. In the room, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, only the soft rustle of cloth echoed. The sound conjured an embarrassing image, and Munpyeong feigned nonchalance, staring into the distance. He couldn't help but feel tense, given who was with him.

"Looking at the state of it, the ointment needs to be changed too. This will sting a bit."

The wound was located right in the middle of his back, between the shoulder blades. It was a spot he couldn't treat, let alone reach, by himself. He always needed someone else's help to apply ointment or wrap the bandages.

A cold finger touched the wound. The hand removing the ointment that covered the entire area was extremely careful, but his festering, inflamed skin still spasmed at the slight stimulation.

"Ugh…"

The highly adhesive ointment pulled at his skin as if refusing to come off. Munpyeong, who had let out an involuntary groan of pain, clenched his teeth to hold back any more.

"Tsk," Cheonma clicked his tongue softly. His touch became even more cautious.

"Still, you were lucky. If it had been just a little off, your spine could have been injured."

After placing the dark, hardened ointment that had absorbed the evil energy on the table, Cheonma muttered to himself. But from his tone, he didn't sound like he thought it was lucky at all. His low, quiet voice carried a chill that made goosebumps rise on Munpyeong's bare skin.

"Are you cold?"

Munpyeong just wished he would apply the medicine in silence, but Cheonma kept talking. Unable to ignore a direct question, Munpyeong hunched his shoulders and gave a short reply.

"I'm fine."

"Lying has become a habit for you."

With a soft **thud**, the window closed. Whether he had used his hand or his foot, the feat of telekinesis was executed with incredible ease, a truly exquisite display of power.

"I wish you had more time to recuperate, but as you know, we're short on time. Still, that old hag's medical skills are undeniable. If you follow her instructions carefully, it won't get any worse than this."

He felt a new layer of ointment being applied to his back. The thick herbs, mixed with honey, gave off a fragrant scent.

`That old hag?`

Even for Cheonma, it was a disrespectful way to refer to her. Munpyeong frowned. He owed his life to that old woman, and yet Cheonma spoke of her so carelessly.

"From the way you speak, you seem to know who she is."

Unable to voice his sarcasm directly—Are you on such familiar terms that you can speak so rudely?—Munpyeong phrased it as indirectly as possible. Not that Cheonma would miss the meaning. He let out a low snort and pressed his finger down firmly.

"Of course I know her."

"Agh! You do?"

The "Agh" was not an exclamation of surprise but a reflexive groan of pain.

"She's an old crone who is too old to die. Since you seem to enjoy repaying favors, you should at least know her name. The old woman's title is the Holy Mother of Kunlun. You've probably heard of it."

As if his petty retaliation was satisfied, Cheonma's tone softened as he revealed the old woman's identity.

"...the Holy Mother of Kunlun? Then isn't she a master from two generations ago? A person like that is still alive?"

"I told you, didn't I? She's too old to die."

Cheonma scoffed at the Holy Mother of Kunlun's longevity, his tone suggesting he held some grudge against her. It seemed he was unaware that he himself was in no position to criticize others for the same thing.

the Holy Mother of Kunlun's real name had been lost to time, but as her title suggested, she was an old master from the Kunlun Sect. Her seniority was a generation higher than even Cheonma's, and she was renowned for her exceptional skill in both medicine and martial arts. Unlike the other Taoists of the Kunlun Sect who roamed like immortals above the clouds, she had often appeared in the secular world, making her name widely known.

Since she was also from the Kunlun Sect, her relationship with the Sword Hero was not that of a stranger. In fact, she was the Sword Hero's grand-aunt. If their connection ended there, it would have been simpler, but she was also linked to the disappearance of Yukma, one of Cheonma's most cherished subordinates, making their relationship complicated. And now, by chance, he owed her Munpyeong's life. Though they had met in person only a handful of times, the threads of fate between the old woman and Cheonma were deeply entangled.

"You were lucky."

Truly, he was lucky. Cheonma murmured quietly as he looked at Munpyeong's wretched scar.

The wound, looking as if a round chunk had been scooped out from the center of his back, was gruesome to behold. The overall size was large because his clothes had caught fire, and its condition had worsened when a wood splinter became embedded in it.

It was a wound that could have killed him from infection if not treated properly. To have met the Holy Mother of Kunlun in the nick of time and survived was nothing short of a miracle.

Seeing the ghastly proof with his own eyes left a complicated feeling in his heart. He had left him behind, believing it was more dangerous to take him along, but the result had been the complete opposite. It wasn't the first time his predictions had been wrong, but it had been a long time since a mistake had led to such a disastrous outcome, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

A dark scab sat on the reddish, swollen skin that had yet to fully heal. The marks from where the pus had been drained were still visible, giving the area a mottled appearance. The contrast between the smooth, healthy skin and the scarred tissue was stark. His healthy brown skin was flawless, while the scar was almost too difficult to look at.

`How can I make this scar disappear? Do I have to make him undergo a complete metamorphosis?`

Lost in deep thought, Cheonma's fingers slid across the skin. A sense of pity took over, and he found himself unconsciously stroking the edges of the wound.

`He has no martial arts to speak of besides his movement technique, and his internal art is pathetic. It seems I'll have to teach him a martial art. I should at least make him a transcendent master, so he doesn't go around getting beaten up.`

For him, it was an uncharacteristically considerate thought, but Munpyeong had no way of knowing what was going through Cheonma's mind. Feeling the hand silently caressing his back, he thought, The time has finally come.

It didn't feel like he was applying medicine, yet the finger lingered on his back. It wasn't touching the wound itself but stroking the uninjured edges. It was no surprise that Munpyeong would misunderstand.

Can he really be thinking of that when a man's back is in this state? The thought that Cheonma's actions were a seduction left Munpyeong inwardly stunned. Since he had never had an ounce of trust in Cheonma to begin with, his misunderstanding quickly turned into a conviction.

`Well, of course. A dog can't stop eating shit.`

He'd known something was off when Cheonma intercepted the request he'd made to the Broken-Faced Wanderer.

"Tonight is impossible, My Lord."

Still, no. Not tonight. Absolutely not. Munpyeong steeled himself and pulled away from the caressing hand.

"What did you say?"

"I said tonight is impossible. I have no energy."

What martial art should I teach this one? He's short on time and has no foundation, so teaching him a profound art that requires long-term cultivation would be pointless. How much of the elixir is left in the cult's treasury? Is there a spiritual beast suitable for his level? Lost in planning Munpyeong's training regimen, it took a moment for Cheonma to comprehend what he had just heard.

`What did he just say? What did I supposedly do?`

A surge of irritation rose in him. Cheonma stopped his hand and glared at Munpyeong. He could feel the glare, yet Munpyeong stubbornly refused to look away, an air of defiant resistance about him.

`Ha. This is ridiculous.`

Cheonma, feeling his character and common sense had been monumentally insulted, was too dumbfounded to even be angry. What did this man take him for to have such a delusion? To think he would try something with a patient who could drop dead the moment he was penetrated… did this guy think he was that irresistible?

A beauty like Xi Shi might look beautiful even when frowning, but Munpyeong was by no means that handsome. With the pallor of sickness all over him, where did this confidence come from? Was he ignoring the fact that he, too, had an aesthetic sense?

"...I was just thinking of teaching you a martial art so you don't go getting beaten up, and what is this nonsense?" Cheonma shot back, his jaw tight with simmering rage.

Munpyeong's back, still turned, visibly tensed. His mood utterly spoiled, Cheonma snapped the ointment container shut and pulled Munpyeong back toward him. He then began winding the bandage around him with angry, rough motions.

`A martial... a martial art?`

He wouldn't exactly leap out of bed at the mention of martial arts, but Munpyeong was still, by definition, a martial artist. For a martial artist, the desire for a superior martial art was as fervent as a monk's longing for a koan. Moreover, having recently gone through a terrifying ordeal, Cheonma's words sounded anything but ordinary.

`And it's not just anyone, it's Cheonma. Even the most trivial technique he knows would be a life-saving skill for me.`

A greed that hadn't stirred even when he received silk clothes more expensive than silver began to grow inside Munpyeong. For a martial artist, power was everything. It was that power that allowed Cheonma to live as he pleased, and it was the lack of it that had brought Munpyeong to this sorry state.

Opportunity must be seized when it presents itself. The chances of a luckless bum like him encountering such a fortuitous event again were slimmer than a random lightning bolt striking a passing thief. Munpyeong hesitantly glanced back at Cheonma, testing the waters.

"...Did you say a martial art?"

Whether he meant it or not, the words were out. Trusting him, Munpyeong mustered his courage and spoke, only to be met with a glare from Cheonma. Though still in his Yun Seung-hyo disguise, his already blue eyes were sharp and cold, like a blade.

"So you managed to hear that even while lost in your foolish thoughts?" Cheonma retorted coldly, clicking his tongue in displeasure.

"Are you really going to teach me a martial art?"

It was a request he could never have made on his own, but now that he had an excuse, he couldn't let it go. When he asked, avoiding his gaze in embarrassment, Cheonma snorted. He was clearly still upset about what Munpyeong had said.

"I don't mind teaching you, but can you learn it properly?"

It was true that the more advanced a martial art, the more it depended on talent, but it also felt like his words carried a hidden meaning.

"My aptitude may be lacking, but I will do my best."

"A man who is old, untalented, and doesn't even try—what would he do? You're stating the obvious."

"...Yes."

"Do you really want to learn? If you wish, I can teach you an internal art that will increase your inner power. Usually, for late learners, the effects of an internal art are slow to appear, but this one has an extraordinary efficacy unlike others, so it should help you."

Cheonma asked suggestively. Hearing the question, Munpyeong's eyes sparkled as he nodded eagerly.

If such an internal art existed, he had to learn it immediately. As long as it wasn't some deviant demonic art that would drive him mad and make him eat people.

With a reluctant expression, Cheonma began to recite the mnemonic verses. The fact that the petty man was dictating them so readily without any tricks suggested he had already decided on it from the beginning.

Munpyeong berated himself for his misunderstanding and diligently memorized the verses. He couldn't afford to miss a single character, so he memorized them with desperate focus.

"Huwijagyeong, Muwiogyeong, Banjeonbulgweyang."

As expected of a superior internal art, there were no direct references to acupressure points. Every phrase was metaphorical and allegorical, so a man of his limited education couldn't understand what it meant even after hearing it.

Cheonma recited the verses three times and then explained their meaning in detail. He named each acupressure point and explained the method of circulating energy, so it wasn't long before Munpyeong could circulate his qi accordingly.

"Thank you so much. I will never forget this kindness."

This was the first time he had shown such a bright, clear expression to Cheonma, as opposed to Yun Seung-hyo. Seeing him so happy, even knowing that the debt he owed would remain a debt, suggested that the sorrow of the weak had been deeply ingrained in his bones.

"Circulate your qi twice a day, morning and evening, and you will feel something. If there's anything you don't understand, you may come to me."

It's not something to be so happy about, Cheonma thought, looking with a mischievous eye at the still-clueless, overjoyed Munpyeong.

The internal art he had taught Munpyeong was "The Art of Plucking Yang to Supplement Yin"—no, to be precise, it was "the Art of Plucking Yang to Supplement Yang". Unlike the flawed versions known to the world, it was closer to the orthodox Taoist art of life nourishment.

A proper nourishment art strengthens one's qi and blood and stabilizes the flow of internal energy. With his physique already set and his talent lacking, the only thing Munpyeong could rely on to become a transcendent master was his internal energy, something that couldn't be achieved with spiritual elixirs alone. Among the methods to exponentially increase internal energy in a short time, none was as effective as this.

If he went around sleeping with just anyone, his energy would become mixed and impure, but Munpyeong wouldn't do that, would he? The only person Munpyeong could ride was him. Therefore, the purity of the internal energy he absorbed was not a concern.

Unaware that this was precisely why Munpyeong resented him, Cheonma praised himself for his brilliant choice and returned to his room. The biggest problem was that he felt no remorse for an act born half of spite and half of pettiness, but unfortunately, Cheonma was oblivious to this fact.

***

A journey that would have taken three days at full speed took them five. They finally arrived in Wuhan.

Wuhan, more famous among martial artists as the headquarters of the Righteous Path Alliance, was the provincial capital of Hubei and a city that had prospered for ages. Located at the confluence of the Yangtze River, which cuts horizontally across the Central Plains, and the Han River, it was a crucial hub for both water and land transportation, serving as a crossroads for official roads stretching in three directions.

In the past, Wuhan was known as the "Junction of Nine Provinces," a nickname that aptly described its extensive, well-connected transportation network, where horses from nine provinces all gathered.

The Righteous Path Alliance was located in Wuhan, one of the three towns of Wuhan. This land, a strategic point for which countless heroes, including Sun Quan of the Wu Kingdom, had fought, was now occupied by the martial artists of the Central Plains, led by the Righteous Path Alliance leader, "Heavenly Firmament" Jang Seong-hak, who flaunted his power to the world.

`Wow. This is incredible.`

Munpyeong was speechless at the magnificent sight, the likes of which he had never seen before. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but the same wall. It wasn't low like the walls of a typical manor; it was a wall of about thirty feet, so high that even a martial artist couldn't leap over it in a single bound. It soared endlessly, blocking the view like a cliff. It felt less like a city wall and more like a fortress wall, especially in the way it presented an overwhelming sense of intimidation to anyone who faced it.

"From where have you come?"

As their carriage reached the main gate, a guard with a formidable aura approached them. Cheonma lifted the carriage curtain and leaned out. Since the mute Broken-Faced Wanderer couldn't state their business, it had been his role all along.

"I am called Flower Fiend. I do not have an invitation tablet."

The guard looked at Cheonma's face and nodded. The whole world knew that Flower Hero Yun Seung-hyo had foreign features. His appearance was a better pass than any invitation.

"Many have been waiting for you. Please, enter."

Permission was granted easily, and the main gate, wide enough for three carriages to enter side-by-side, slowly opened.

The Broken-Faced Wanderer, his bamboo hat pulled down low, drove the horse into the Righteous Path Alliance. Munpyeong, arriving at the Righteous Path Alliance for the first time in his life, felt his heart pound. The fact that the ultimate enemy of the Righteous Path, Cheonma, was sitting right next to him made his heart pound twice as hard.

`We're finally here.`

The journey here had not been easy. He had learned the true identity of the man he loved, nearly died, and in the process, gained a new martial art. So many dramatic events had occurred that the short period of time felt like an eternity.

But it was all over now. Now that they were here, their enemies would no longer be able to track them. Late or not, he had arrived, which meant he had perfectly fulfilled Po Yeong-ui's order.

He had already decided in his mind what he needed to do upon arriving here. Reaffirming that decision, Munpyeong looked at the Righteous Path Alliance with trembling eyes. From now on, not even the smallest mistake was permissible. His future depended solely on his actions from this point forward.

The greatest power in the world today was undoubtedly the Demonic Cult, but its influence did not extend throughout the entire Central Plains. Unless one counted their secretly extended power, their influence did not go beyond Xinjiang, and their activities did not reach the Central Plains.

In contrast, the Righteous Path Alliance was situated in the very heart of the Central Plains. The orthodox sects of the Central Plains were interconnected like a spiderweb with it at the center. To the north were the Shaolin of Mount Song and the Wudang Sect, and to the west were Huashan and the Zhuge Clan. The major sects of the Righteous Path, led by the Nine Sects One Alliance, were located throughout the Central Plains, and smaller sects filled the gaps in between, continuing their lineage.

Perhaps because of this, the area occupied by the Righteous Path Alliance was incomparable to that of the Demonic Cult. If one were to simply compare the size of the buildings, the Demonic Cult's would be only a third of the Righteous Path Alliance's.

It was said that the Forbidden City had over a hundred main gates on its main roads, and this place was no less impressive. The walls were five layers deep, and between them stood huge training grounds and majestic buildings.

Even though darkness was falling, the paths were bustling with people coming and going. Guided by a guard, they passed through three layers of walls before reaching their destination.

They arrived before an enormous pavilion, its imposing presence evident from its exterior. The golden characters written on the luxurious plaque boasted a style as dynamic as a soaring dragon and a flying serpent. "Cheon'igak"—The Hall of Heavenly Might. Munpyeong tilted his head, thinking he had heard the name somewhere before.

`Wait a minute. What was The Hall of Heavenly Might again?`

"This is the place."

Hearing the guard's confirmation, they disembarked from the carriage. Ja-ok, following the adults, got out and looked around with wide eyes.

"We have been waiting, Master Yun."

Two men who were already waiting in front of the pavilion greeted them. Both were dressed more like scholars than martial artists. The older of the two, in particular, stood out, wearing a shimui, a deep robe worn only by learned scholars.

"It has been a long time, Great Master Zhuge."

"Welcome. You must be tired from your long journey."

"Not at all. Please don't mention it."

Cheonma maintained a truly respectful attitude as he greeted the man in the shimui.

"Allow me to introduce my companions. This is my escort, the Broken-Faced Wanderer, and this is my attendant, Guan Ryang. And this child is Ja-ok, whom I brought from Kaiyang."

"Oh, is that so? So this is the child."

The man in the shimui showed interest in Ja-ok before anyone else. Suddenly the center of attention, Ja-ok flinched and wrung her hands, unsure of what to do. The man's observing gaze swept over the child's entire body. Feeling his stare, the child seemed to grow even more anxious, her expressionless face turning paler.

The child hesitantly moved closer to Munpyeong. Then, she finally pressed herself against him, hiding her body as if seeking his protection.

This was the first time Ja-ok had come this close. The child, who had always kept her distance like a wary cat, had approached him on her own. He felt a pang in his heart, wondering if even someone like him could be a source of comfort for a child with no one to rely on.

"Hah. A timid child, I see."

Embarrassed that his gaze had frightened the child so much, the man in the shimui let out a hearty laugh.

"It can't be helped. She went through a terrible ordeal at such a young age."

"Indeed. That's true. Now that you mention it, it's understandable. Ah, my apologies. My introduction is late. This is my nephew. He is a man capable of investigating this matter with you, so I called him here in advance."

"Greetings, Great Master Yun. My name is Baek Woo-gyeong. In the Jianghu, I am known by the undeserved title of 'Jade Qilin'."

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Yun Seung-hyo. You may call me Flower Hero or Flower Fiend, it matters not to me."

A man with a sickly complexion, limping as he approached, offered his greetings with a familiar name.

`So, this is the Jade Qilin.`

His features, which had been indistinct from a distance in the dark, became clear up close. As soon as Munpyeong saw his face, he realized who he was.

If the man in the shimui was the Jade Qilin's uncle, then he must be Zhuge Bu, the "Heavenly Skilled Scholar." He was the current head of the Zhuge Clan and a brilliant man known for his wisdom, even serving as the military strategist for the Righteous Path Alliance.

Come to think of it, he had heard that the Righteous Path Alliance's military affairs department was called The Hall of Heavenly Might. So this must be the place he had only heard about.

`The head of The Hall of Heavenly Might himself came out to greet him? Incredible. Was the Flower Hero's name that renowned in the Jianghu?`

The head of one of the Five Great Clans and the military strategist of the Righteous Path Alliance had come out personally to meet him. In Demonic Cult terms, this was like Po Yeong-ui coming out to the front of the Secret Inquiry Pavilion to greet a guest.

How could such a renowned hero of the Righteous Path be connected to someone like Cheonma? Munpyeong tilted his head, recalling the brief glimpse he had of the real Yun Seung-hyo.

In terms of status and temperament, there was no connection between Cheonma and Yun Seung-hyo. Yet, they knew each other so well that they could impersonate one another.

To imitate someone, one couldn't just know their appearance. One needed to know their way of speaking, their tastes, and their entire network of relationships. It was essential to avoid situations like feigning familiarity with a stranger or failing to recognize an acquaintance.

Knowing this, Munpyeong felt a strong curiosity about the relationship between Yun Seung-hyo and Cheonma. There was clearly a story there, but he had missed the chance to ask, and it was now difficult to bring it up.

"It warms my heart to see two young men who will lead the Jianghu. If I could, I would bring out fine wine and share a toast to our righteous spirit, but unfortunately, the situation is too grave. Let us go inside. We can discuss the matter you've brought to us there."

"Understood. But before that, I have one request. You may have heard the rumors, but we were attacked on our way here. We have an injured person among us, so please arrange for my companions to rest."

Cheonma, a master of feigning gentlemanly conduct, made the request in a polite tone. When he didn't know the truth, he had taken it at face value. But now, knowing Cheonma's true identity, there was no sight more terrifying. Towards a man who outclassed him in seniority, age, martial skill, and status, Cheonma was playing the part of a polite junior.

Considering his sky-high pride, one would expect him to flip the table at any moment, yet he maintained a composed expression and even smiled sweetly, making one's knees tremble just watching.

`Who in the world would know that this man possesses such incredible patience?`

Munpyeong clicked his tongue inwardly, thinking he wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself.

"Is that so? Very well. Then let your companions rest first. You there. Would you guide these people to the Guesthouse of Esteemed Visitors?"

"Yes, my lord. Understood."

The Heavenly Skilled Scholar readily accepted Cheonma's request. Guided by the guard who received his order, Munpyeong's group rode the carriage again towards the guesthouse. After more than ten years as a low-ranking warrior in the Demonic Cult, who would have thought he'd one day be resting in the guesthouse of the Righteous Path Alliance?

Munpyeong felt a strange emotion at this new experience, one he himself had never anticipated. This must be why one has to live life to find out. You never know what you'll experience next until it happens.

The Righteous Path Alliance's guesthouse, true to its name, was a space meticulously prepared to host esteemed guests without shame.

It was not a single large building but a collection of several separate villas. Each building was spaced far apart, and a three-tiered structure of walls, garden trees, and rockeries ensured privacy. The interiors were decorated with comfort in mind, structured so that the entire group could rest without inconvenience. The serving maids were well-trained, and the food served was of high quality. Most satisfying of all was the palpable sincerity.

They gathered for dinner and then retired to their respective rooms. Since everyone was either quiet or mute, there was no idle chatter.

Exhausted, Munpyeong washed up and fell asleep. However, perhaps because he had slept so much in the carriage, his short slumber ended quickly.

Rubbing his eyes, he checked the time. It was around the hour of the rat (zi shi). The moon, hanging in the center of the night sky, shone with a clear, bright light.

He had nothing to do, and sleep wouldn't come. After tossing and turning in bed a few times, Munpyeong grew tired of lying down and sat up. He was thinking of circulating his qi since he was awake anyway, when he unexpectedly heard a presence outside his door.

`Who could it be at this late hour?`

Puzzled, Munpyeong turned his head towards the door.

"Are you awake?"

From the voice, it was the maid who had served them at dinner.

"Yes, I'm awake. What is it?"

"I apologize for the late hour, but a message has come from The Hall of Heavenly Might. They ask if you would be so kind as to come for a moment, if you are not yet asleep."

`At this time of night?`

"Very well. I will prepare and come out."

It was strange, but he had been summoned, so he had no choice. Munpyeong changed his clothes and stepped outside. The maid, holding a blue silk lantern, bowed apologetically. They were both being dragged out in the middle of the night, so he didn't know why she was acting so sorry.

She led him back to The Hall of Heavenly Might. They took a winding path of small alleyways instead of the main road they had come by, making it hard to tell where they were. But the path must have been a shortcut, because they soon arrived at The Hall of Heavenly Might.

As Munpyeong opened the door and entered, two men looked up at the same time. Startled by their sudden welcome, Munpyeong froze. As they raised their faces, the room suddenly brightened, as if hundreds of candles had been lit at once, dazzling his eyes.

Not one, but two peerless handsome men. It was as if Song Yu and Pan An were gathered in one place.

It's extravagant, but feels like a waste. A man's face just needed eyes, a nose, and a mouth. What was the use of such looks? Besides, the handsome ones always made you pay for their good looks. If they weren't eccentric, they were cruel, and if they weren't cruel, they were cunning.

Having unintentionally met numerous handsome men and beautiful women, Munpyeong, who had yet to see a single one with a good heart, did not let his guard down.

"Ah, you've come."

The pale-faced Baek Woo-gyeong greeted him with a faint smile. His voice was a pleasant, deep baritone. Munpyeong awkwardly returned the greeting and stepped forward.

Cheonma cleared away a mountain of scrolls and gestured for him to sit. He instinctively cleared the spot next to him, which made Munpyeong inwardly flinch, but he didn't show it and sat down.

"How is the child?"

Baek Woo-gyeong immediately asked about the child's well-being. Looking at his exhausted face, it seemed he was the one who needed rest, but he hadn't left the meeting hall even at this late hour.

"She's asleep. The non-stop forced march, on top of the terrible incident in the middle, must have been exhausting. I plan to let her rest for a while. She's still a child who isn't well."

Munpyeong spoke casually, subtly setting a boundary. He wasn't ignorant of the Righteous Path Alliance's position, but Ja-ok was still reeling from the shock and was also ill.

Having been the child's guardian for several days, he felt a sense of responsibility for her and wanted to care for her as much as he could. He already felt sorry for bringing her here without any intention of taking full responsibility; he couldn't just let the Righteous Path Alliance's martial artists grill her under the pretext of an interrogation.

Hearing his words, Baek Woo-gyeong smiled faintly. It was such a weak smile that it looked like he might collapse at any moment.

"I've heard the child's health is not good. She suffers from a meridian disease, I believe?"

"Yes, so I've been told."

"After hearing about it, I sent a man to the Bolim Gate. Fortunately, the Divine Physician has agreed to send his disciple. If we're lucky, we might be able to cure the child's illness."

"I've heard that meridian disease is difficult to cure. Is it possible?"

"If the Divine Physician cannot cure it, no one can. We can only place our hopes in his medical skills."

But the one diagnosing Ja-ok was the Divine Physician's disciple, not the man himself. It was obvious their skills weren't the same, so would he truly be able to treat Ja-ok? A flicker of doubt crossed Munpyeong's mind, but he said no more and closed his mouth.

To be honest, Munpyeong hadn't expected them to show such kindness. He knew Ja-ok's testimony was important, but that didn't mean they had to go so far as to treat her. If it bothered them, he thought they might give her some money, or at most, find her a place to work. But unexpectedly, the Jade Qilin showed a level of consideration that surpassed his expectations.

Those who lack nothing are often oblivious to the hardships of others, but this man was an exception. It was intriguing. If it came from the heart, he possessed the virtue of a gentleman; if it was a calculated move, he was a true strategist. But Munpyeong couldn't tell which of the two Baek Woo-gyeong was.

However, just because he was suspicious didn't mean he could refuse the offer. Lacking the means to help the child as much as they could, Munpyeong decided it wasn't his place to interfere and bowed his head respectfully.

"Thank you for your profound kindness."

"Not at all. We should be the ones thanking you. If not for the efforts of Great Master Yun and Great Master Guan, the events in Kaiyang would not have come to light. It is the duty of our Righteous Path Alliance to protect the righteous spirit of the Central Plains, yet it is our great negligence that we failed to notice such a major incident unfolding. Thank you for preventing a great disaster, you two. All our comrades in the Jianghu will respect your righteous spirit."

Baek Woo-gyeong praised them with the solemn attitude of a righteous hero. As a descendant of a noble family, his bearing was refined, and he remained composed even when unwell. Every gesture was courteous, and every word was as heavy as a mountain.

Just by looking at him, one could guess why he was called a Great Master. He was the very picture of a hero of the Righteous Path.

Nevertheless, Munpyeong, having been severely burned once before, couldn't easily trust him. No matter how polite the other person was, it was only his outward appearance. The fake Yun Seung-hyo had already proven that he was a poor judge of character.

Most of all, Munpyeong didn't like Baek Woo-gyeong's appearance. He admitted he was exceptionally handsome, but he just couldn't bring himself to like that face. Annoyingly, Baek Woo-gyeong resembled someone else far too much. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was a spitting image.

So this is why they say you can't steal a seed, Munpyeong thought, clicking his tongue softly. Aside from his skin, which was deeply tanned by the harsh sea wind, and his older appearance compared to the shamelessly rejuvenated old man, Baek Woo-gyeong had almost the exact same face as Cheonma.

If not for the age difference, one would have believed they were twins.

`Why not just use a cloning technique?`

Feeling the potent bloodline of Cheonma in a face that showed not a hint of the Zhuge Clan, Munpyeong grumbled to himself and frowned.

"You are too kind, Great Master Baek. We have done nothing to deserve such praise. It was the Beggars' Sect and the Tang Clan who saved the children, and the number of children saved is minuscule compared to the lives lost. We barely recovered any living corpses, nor did we uncover the masterminds behind the plot. All we did was commit the folly of startling the snake in the grass. We deserve rebuke, not praise."

Whatever he was thinking, Cheonma responded. Like Baek Woo-gyeong's words, his reply sounded polite at first glance, but Munpyeong noticed the thorns hidden within.

Nothing has been solved, and we even lost the mastermind, so what's there to be so pleased about? Strip away the flowery rhetoric, and the true meaning was mercilessly sharp. It was a taunt far more scathing than a direct rebuke, and a bitter smile appeared on Baek Woo-gyeong's face.

Sensing the subtle chill in the atmosphere, Munpyeong glanced back and forth between the two men.

"Your words have a point. Indeed, you are not wrong. I apologize for my thoughtless words."

Baek Woo-gyeong bowed deeply, apologizing for his mistake. Cheonma waved his hand dismissively at him. He too was an expert at playing the part of a virtuous gentleman. He spoke to Baek Woo-gyeong with a courtesy that matched his own.

"What are you saying? That was not my intention. As I said before, the one who should be asking for forgiveness is me. I am not qualified to receive an apology, nor to grant forgiveness, so please, do not."

If Baek Woo-gyeong had the air of a great man, the fake Yun Seung-hyo that Cheonma was impersonating had the spirit of a chivalrous hero. That was why Baek Woo-gyeong was known by the name of the Qilin, a benevolent mythical beast that wouldn't even step on grass, while Yun Seung-hyo was given the titles of both Hero and Fiend.

Had other martial artists witnessed this scene, they would have been deeply impressed by the two men's differing characters. Truly, their reputations are well-deserved. There is no name without a reason in this world, they might have thought, slapping their knees in admiration. But Munpyeong, who knew a little more than what the world knew, could only snort in derision.

`What a joke.`

Cutting down the two men with a sarcasm as sharp as Cheonma's, Munpyeong further solidified his prejudice that one could never trust a person by their appearance alone.

Just a few months ago, he hadn't been this distrustful of people, but the successive appearances of Cheonma and the fake Yun Seung-hyo had completely ruined him. The fact that Cheonma and the fake Yun Seung-hyo were ultimately the same person was the crowning jewel of that experience.

Compared to these two, the Five Venoms of the Tang Clan were better. They were weak to the strong and strong to the weak. They were despicable, but at least they were consistent and their insides matched their outsides.

Besides, there was no need to feel betrayed. Trust would never have formed in the first place. It was easier to live simply. To stand before someone and anxiously calculate how much you could trust them, to wonder what their true intentions were—that was truly no way for a human to live.

After a long bout of their own back-and-forth, the conversation finally turned to the main topic. Baek Woo-gyeong, his expression serious again, looked straight at Munpyeong. His profoundly dark eyes captured his gaze.

"My apologies for the late hour, Brother Guan. I heard you suffered a great injury during your journey. I am sorry to trouble you when you are not yet well."

Remembering Cheonma's introduction from earlier, Baek Woo-gyeong casually called him Brother Guan. Having already heard enough pleasantries, Munpyeong shook his head nonchalantly.

"It's all right. I was not yet asleep."

"Actually, I wished to ask you about the very incident in which you were injured. I would have preferred to hear it from the Flower Hero, but I understand he was not present during the attack."

His words were not wrong. At that time, Cheonma had gone to the Dabie Mountains for Wu Gyeong, and the real Yun Seung-hyo had chased after Ja Myorang, so both Yun Seung-hyos had been absent.

"That's right. He was elsewhere due to urgent matters."

But there was no need to give such detailed explanations. Munpyeong gave a vague answer and waited for Baek Woo-gyeong's next words.

"Could you explain the situation at that time in detail? We have received some information, but the chaos was so great that we couldn't get an accurate account."

It had been a sudden attack, the fight had been chaotic, and it had ended in a pandemonium of exploding firecrackers. It was unlikely that anyone who survived could have given a proper explanation.

Realizing what Baek Woo-gyeong wanted, Munpyeong began to explain the incident from the beginning. Cheonma, hearing about the incident from Munpyeong's own lips for the first time, also listened with interest.

"It was around evening. We were in the middle of a meal when suddenly the surroundings became noisy..."

As Munpyeong spoke, he made sure to point out the important details. The enemies had clearly targeted Ja-ok.

Though numerous, they didn't seem to have been trained in group combat. The same was true for the martial artists from the living corpse incident. He hadn't found any common martial arts or weapons among them. The fact that many used unconventional weapons rather than standard ones suggested a connection to the Unorthodox Factions.

The fact that the martial arts of the Three Ghost Demons had reached the peak, contrary to what was known, was another crucial point. Munpyeong, with a judgment full of personal grudge, added that Gyesalgwi (The Violating Ghost) seemed to be the most vicious of them all.

Baek Woo-gyeong, who had been diligently taking notes, showed particular interest in the story of the Three Ghost Demons.

"I also received a report that they appeared there. The three of them were together, is that right?"

"That's right. All three were there."

"Could you tell me more about them? For instance, what they said or did. Was there anything unusual about their behavior?"

"Everything was unusual. I've never met such human trash in my life."

Munpyeong shuddered, wanting to recall nothing about those three bastards, especially Gyesalgwi. But Baek Woo-gyeong pressed on with a serious demeanor, his tone suggesting he wanted a word-for-word reenactment.

Left with no choice, Munpyeong began to explain from his first encounter with the three. He tried to be as vague as possible, but he couldn't avoid talking about the advances Gyesalgwi had made on him and the lewd jokes they had thrown around.

"Their techniques were simple, but their internal energy was abundant. I countered his descending blade with my own, but when our blades clashed, it felt like I was blocking an axe. I, a first-rate master, couldn't match him. That's how I knew he was at the peak."

"I see."

"The strange thing was that the whites of all three of their eyes were red. I know they travel together in solidarity, but I'd heard their individual internal arts were different. For some reason, it felt like they had all cultivated the same internal art."

"Is that true? Were the whites of all three of their eyes really red?"

"Yes. It wasn't just a few burst blood vessels. It looked like they had blood-red eyes."

Hearing this, Baek Woo-gyeong stroked his chin with his fingertips. His already pale face turned even bluer due to his grave expression.

That man really resembles him no matter what expression he makes. Watching Baek Woo-gyeong, who perfectly embodied how Cheonma might look when he was older—no, before he underwent his age regression—Munpyeong suddenly wondered how Cheonma felt.

`What does he think when he sees a child who looks so much like him? A child he's never met since birth, raised in the Righteous Path, the complete opposite of the Demonic Cult. From his perspective, it's a child he practically abandoned.`

"...Those weren't just 'like' blood-red eyes. They were probably actual Blood Eyes. Also known as Demonic Spirit Eyes."

Unaware that Munpyeong had been lost in thought, Baek Woo-gyeong sighed and spoke. Whether it was Blood Eyes or Demonic Spirit Eyes, he had never heard of them before, but Cheonma, who seemed to already know, chimed in with a somber voice.

"Do you truly believe the Blood Eyes have reappeared? I was under the impression that the Blood Tear Order disappeared along with the Wusheng Cult."

"Actually, it seems the Wusheng Cult itself has reemerged. Evidence of their existence is being found in various places throughout the Jianghu."

Munpyeong didn't know much about the Wusheng Cult, unlike them. Seeing his bewildered expression, Baek Woo-gyeong kindly explained.

The Wusheng Cult was a heretical sect that appeared about 300 years ago, during the transition from the Song to the Yuan dynasty. It was started by a monk named You Chenglì and spread like wildfire, taking advantage of the social chaos of the late Song dynasty.

The core doctrine of the Wusheng Cult could be summed up in one phrase: "Life is a sea of suffering, perfection is non-existence." Life is a sea of pain, and only in non-existence can one achieve perfection.

The Song dynasty, which had fled south to escape the pressure of the Yuan, saw its situation worsen even after being reborn as the Southern Song. Corrupt officials embezzled supplies from the front lines, exploitation by local landlords intensified, and famine and disaster were rampant.

Vagrants and beggars flooded the streets, and the poverty of the common people grew so extreme that rumors circulated of people in remote mountain areas swapping their children to eat, as they couldn't bear to eat their own. For commoners living such lives, a religion that preached "salvation comes the moment you end your life" might have been a form of salvation.

But salvation is not so easily obtained. Even monks who trained their whole lives failed to become Buddhas. If one could achieve salvation simply by ending their life, there would be no one in the world who couldn't become a Buddha. The Wusheng Cult didn't make such an unreasonable claim. Even in their doctrine, liberation was not an easily attainable result.

The reason there is suffering in a person's life is for the purification of their soul. The world is so full of suffering because the number of souls to be purified has become too great. That was You Chenglì's claim, and it gradually became more radical. What started as the worship of suicide for personal liberation later evolved into the worship of murder for societal liberation.

They began killing people under the pretext of reducing the world's suffering. They believed that since there were too many unpurified souls causing widespread suffering, if they purified those souls and relieved their karma, the karma of the entire world would also decrease. Eventually, a group of martial artists who specialized in this work was formed, and strangely, all of them had red whites in their eyes.

"According to what is known, the Blood Tear Pill has the effect of enhancing internal energy. It is said that one can gain anywhere from ten to thirty years of internal energy, their vitality becomes full, and they do not tire easily. In return, their eyes turn red, which is why the pill was named the Blood Tear Pill. After taking it, it looked as if their eyes were shedding tears of blood.

But that pill was not a spiritual elixir, but a demonic one. The method of making it was truly an outrage against heaven and humanity. They would gather children who were still virgins, put them in a dark cave, and collapse the entrance, burying them alive. In the lightless darkness, driven by pain and hunger, the children would eat each other. The most important ingredient for the Blood Tear Pill was the body parts of the children who remained. I heard it was also related to the arts of the crooked path. The man named You Chenglì was said to have been a Taoist priest of the Maoshan School before becoming a monk."

It was a gruesome story to hear after the hour of the rat. The fact that it was a real story, not a fabrication, made it even more unpleasant. Frowning in distaste, Munpyeong suddenly realized that the method of making the Blood Tear Pill was somehow familiar.

"Actually, there's more to the story that isn't widely known. You Chenglì buried those children alive not for the Blood Tear Pill, but to obtain something else. The Blood Tear Pill was just an accidental byproduct of his various experiments. He devoted his entire life to one thing, and only at the very end of his life did he finally gain the ability to create what he desired.

What he created could only be described as a monster. Its blood itself was a terrifyingly potent poison, its skin was impervious to blades, and it could not be killed by anyone less than a transcendent master."

"...A Geonyeja."

"That's right. That's exactly what it was."

Munpyeong now understood why Baek Woo-gyeong believed the Wusheng Cult had reappeared. The ones who had kidnapped the children had created a Geonyeja, and Ja-ok had been attacked by those with Blood Eyes. The Geonyeja and the Blood Eyes had appeared in related places.

"But I don't understand. The Wusheng Cult's lineage was already severed, wasn't it? When the cult was subjugated back then, not only You Chenglì but all his descendants were annihilated, and none of the followers survived. The Wusheng Cult's main temple was not only burned to its foundations but also turned into a lake."

Cheonma, who had been listening, countered. In fact, it was the Demonic Cult that had done it, and Cheonma knew this from the cult's historical records.

In the main temple of the Wusheng Cult, which was said to have burned for ten days and nights, no one survived. The Demonic Cult, which had a grudge against them, surrounded the entire mountain and annihilated them so thoroughly that not even a mouse could escape.

"That's right. I know that as well. But isn't it a coincidence? The person who so thoroughly destroyed the Wusheng Cult back then was the previous Cheonma, Zhai Bowen. And he is also the only Cheonma whose final fate is unknown. It's a famous story that he entered the Central Plains and disappeared, isn't it?"

Zhai Bowen was the one who had greatly contributed to Hyeokryeon Sang becoming the "first in centuries" Cheonma. He had gone to the Central Plains without even leaving behind a disciple to inherit his legacy and had simply vanished. Due to his disappearance, the Demonic Cult lost most of the Art of the Heavenly Demon, Cheonma's Arts.

In the Demonic Cult, which revered strength, the leader was worshipped like a god because of the powerful martial arts that supported him. But when that disappeared, the leader's prestige plummeted.

It was from this time that the "Struggle of the Demonic Dragons" became so fiercely intense. Since the martial arts they learned had their limits, their skills were all more or less the same, forcing them to fight even more bloodily.

Cheonma recalled the tedious past where he had to gather the remaining techniques and practically re-create them. Back then, it was just training, training, and more training until he thought he would die.

"So, Great Master Baek, you believe the ones who currently have the Qilin Plaque are them?"

"That is correct. As you know, Flower Hero, the Qilin Plaque currently circulating in the Jianghu is originally my family's property. Thanks to that, I've seen it several times since I was young. I can say for certain that there is nothing on the back of the Qilin Plaque. No treasure map, and no martial art verses.

The false rumors about the Qilin Plaque are being spread deliberately by someone. I don't know their exact intentions, but from the gist of the rumors, one thing is clear. They are targeting the Demonic Cult."

"Targeting the Demonic Cult... Why do you think so? I thought they were using the Qilin Plaque to cause chaos in the Jianghu."

Cheonma threw out a bait, wanting to know how much Baek Woo-gyeong had figured out.

"First, the fact that they targeted the Qilin Plaque itself is a problem. The situation is chaotic now, and all sorts of rumors have attached themselves to it, but those in the know are aware of what the Qilin Plaque is used for. It is a pass to have a private audience with Cheonma. To lay a hand on that object means their ultimate goal is to target Cheonma. No matter what else is attached, the original purpose is only one.

Second, it bothers me that the rumors about the Demonic Cult's Ancestral Cave are becoming overly specific. These rumors have spread widely, especially in Hebei, and nowadays, a specific location is even being mentioned."

Hearing this, Cheonma couldn't help but ask, even though he had a feeling.

"Is that place Zhao County?"

"Precisely."

It was a plausible story. Zhao County in Hebei Province was the last place Zhai Bowen was seen before he disappeared. As a result, there were often rumors within the Demonic Cult that Zhai Bowen's tomb was somewhere in Zhao County.

`They're definitely targeting the Demonic Cult.`

Cheonma groaned inwardly. To him, the second fact was more troubling than the first.

The martial arts that Zhai Bowen had disappeared with were, before being the Art of the Heavenly Demon, the Ancestral Master's Arts. No matter how outstanding the martial arts Hyeokryeon Sang had created, they couldn't ignore the historical significance of the Ancestral Master's Arts.

If there was even a one-in-a-million chance of recovering the Ancestral Master's Arts, the Demonic Cult had to move. At that point, not even the Longzhong Pact could stop them.

"Whatever the Demonic Cult's motive, if they descend from the Heavenly Mountains, the Righteous Path Alliance will have no choice but to move as well. If that happens, a righteous-demonic war will break out for the first time in forty years. The Wusheng Cult seems to be trying to take advantage of the chaos that will ensue. They can take revenge on the Demonic Cult and rebuild their own, killing two birds with one stone, wouldn't you say?"

Baek Woo-gyeong laid out a bleak outlook and looked at the two men. Munpyeong's face contorted with a vague sense of dread, while Cheonma's twisted from the predicament of knowing yet being unable to avoid it.

`It seems you've lived quite diligently for the past twenty years. I have to praise you for that diligence, at least.`

Cheonma muttered inwardly to Gwak Hyo, who must have been scurrying around like a rat. It was infuriating, but he had to admit that Gwak Hyo was a troublesome adversary. No one had ever pushed him into such a corner before. The only opponent who had succeeded in doing so not once, but twice, in his entire life, was Gwak Hyo.

***

Munpyeong declined Baek Woo-gyeong's offer to have a maid guide him and held the lantern himself. It was past the hour of the rat and already the hour of the ox (chou shi). How could he let a young lady be exposed to the night dew at this late hour?

**Crunch, crunch.** They walked through the darkness, stepping on the moonlight. It was so late that there was no one around. The utter silence felt uncomfortable, and Munpyeong cautiously glanced at Cheonma.

Cheonma, in his Yun Seung-hyo guise, was lost in thought, his gaze fixed on a distant point. A faint air of contemplation drifted from his exquisitely handsome features. A familiar pang of longing struck his heart. He knew who was inside, but he couldn't help it. His heart had not yet forgotten its old habits.

Realizing he couldn't easily shake off his longing for a non-existent, illusory figure, Munpyeong bit his lip and looked away.

Living while constantly seeing that face is truly unbearable. The unburned embers of his feelings would spark and flare up every time he saw it.

"He is not my son."

As Munpyeong tried to steady his wavering heart by looking at a distant mountain, the sudden words, thrown like a tripwire, made him jump.

The man who seemed lost in thought had suddenly said something completely out of context. Did a word slip out while he was thinking? It was a statement with no discernible context.

"Pardon? What do you mean?"

"Back in the meeting hall, you were looking back and forth between me and him, thinking that, weren't you? That blood can't be denied. It was written all over your face."

`Dammit. Is he a mind reader?`

Munpyeong unconsciously rubbed his face with his palm and thought blankly. I thought he was his son, but I also cursed him out. Did he read all of that too?

"He isn't your son?"

"No."

"But you look so much alike."

Even if he was an abandoned child, to deny he was his son seemed a bit harsh. Munpyeong asked again, suggestively.

"I said no."

Cheonma cut him off, annoyed. For him to be Baek Woo-gyeong's father, he would have had to sleep with that damn wench Zhuge Hui-ryeon first. Cheonma, who despised Zhuge Hui-ryeon, could not forgive that possibility above all else.

"How can you make such a mistake when you know I'm a man who prefers men? Woo-gyeong is not my son."

Munpyeong, who had believed it to be true based on what he had indirectly heard from the Four Demonic Kings, was taken aback by the direct denial. Huh? Thinking back on the Four Demonic Kings's conversation, they had also seemed to believe Baek Woo-gyeong was Cheonma's son... So, were they complete strangers who just happened to look that much alike?

"The Four Demonic Kings also thought he was your son."

"Those fools don't know I had a younger sibling. So they saw that kid who resembles me and made their own assumptions. Others may not know, but you should. You know I have no interest in women."

That was true. Cheonma was surrounded by stunningly beautiful women, but he had no interest in any of them. He was a man who preffered men whose preferences even his disciples were aware of.

`Wait a minute. He had a sibling?`

Munpyeong was surprised to learn that Cheonma, whom he had known as a solitary orphan, had a hidden relative. Since Baek Woo-gyeong's mother was Zhuge Hui-ryeon, it couldn't have been a younger sister, which meant he had a younger brother.

`Hold on. Baek Woo-gyeong was a posthumous child, right? Who was the man known as his father? ...The Sword Hero, Baek Un-jeong?`

The man known to the world as Baek Woo-gyeong's father was the Sword Hero, Baek Un-jeong, who died at Mount Longzhong over forty years ago.

`Baek Un-jeong...`

Rolling the strangely familiar name in his mouth, Munpyeong easily recalled hearing a similar name before.

Once, when Cheonma had held him in his Yun Seung-hyo guise, he had suddenly brought up a strange name. He had demanded Munpyeong call him by that name instead of his own, subjecting him to a form of torture until he finally complied.

The memory was so traumatic that he couldn't forget the name. The imprinting was even clearer because he had been terrified that the man he loved might be a pervert.

Un-gang. That was the name Cheonma had wanted to be called back then. Un-gang. Un-jeong. The shared middle character clearly marked them as names given to brothers.

`What? So his real name isn't Hyeokryeon Sang, but Baek Un-gang? And the Sword Hero was Cheonma's own brother??`

This was a truth worthy of being a secret history of the Jianghu. The Sword Hero, known for saving the Central Plains from Cheonma's grasp, was actually his younger brother. This would be a shocking truth not only to the people of the Righteous Path who knew him as a hero, but also to the members of the Demonic Cult who held a grudge against him.

`Then did Cheonma kill his own brother? Judging by the Qilin Plaque, he must have known he was his brother. Why did he retreat after killing his own brother? What kind of story was there for one brother to grow up as the leader of the Demonic Cult and the other as a young hero of the Righteous Path?`

It was a tragic past for a hero of his time. The truth had been dropped without any explanation, leaving him full of questions, but Munpyeong didn't dare to ask.

"...Why are you telling me such an important secret? You haven't even told your disciples."

This was not a story for him to poke his clumsy curiosity into. Munpyeong took a step back. What he was truly curious about now was why Cheonma was confiding such a secret in him.

He could have just let him misunderstand like everyone else. Whether he thought Baek Woo-gyeong was Cheonma's son or his nephew, nothing would change. The fact that a hero of the Righteous Path was related to Cheonma by blood remained the same.

"Who knows? Why did I?"

Cheonma smiled bitterly. He could feel that the other man was burdened by the secret he had shared.

In truth, this was not something to be impulsively told to someone else. It was a matter that concerned not only the honor of his dead brother but also the safety of his living nephew. If this story were to leak out, the trouble Baek Woo-gyeong would be in would be incomparable to the incident at the Dabie Mountains.

"What do you think of that child?"

"Are you talking about Great Master Baek?"

"Yes. That child."

"He seemed intelligent and considerate. Very outstanding in many ways."

He couldn't know his true nature from just a brief meeting. But his first impression wasn't bad. He was very capable, though he didn't know which bloodline that came from, and he seemed to have a strong sense of justice. If he wasn't two-faced like the fake Yun Seung-hyo, he was a person worthy of genuine respect.

"But he doesn't resemble his father."

Cheonma added, as if that were a flaw. Munpyeong, who didn't know if he had liked or disliked his own brother, couldn't understand what he meant. But Cheonma just uttered those words and fell into thought, making it difficult to speak to him.

`I wish he had resembled him.`

Cheonma couldn't help but feel a deep sense of regret. He hadn't had a chance to properly observe Baek Woo-gyeong before because the situation was too dire. But today, he had plenty of time and the leisure to observe him up close.

But even up close, he couldn't find any resemblance to his father. Unlike the gentle and affectionate Un-jeong, he was kind but had a sharp, decisive attitude. His brother, who lived by righteousness alone, would rush in without a second thought if something wasn't right in his eyes, but Woo-gyeong had the ability to coolly judge the situation.

In terms of personal preference, he preferred a personality like Woo-gyeong's over his brother's, which made life difficult. At least Woo-gyeong was easier to talk to and less frustrating to watch. But still, Cheonma was not pleased with his nephew's personality. If he was going to be his brother's descendant, he had hoped he would resemble him more. He had hoped to feel a part of his departed brother through his son.

He knew it was a one-sided desire, but when his expectations were dashed, he felt no affection for the child. He didn't hate him, nor did he like him; he was just indifferent. He almost wished he felt a stronger emotion, even if it was a negative one.

As they walked and talked, they quickly arrived in front of the pavilion. It was late at night, and the building was shrouded in darkness. Not wanting to risk sharing Cheonma's secrets any longer, Munpyeong quickly plotted his escape to his own room.

"Well then, I'll be heading in now. Good night."

He finished his farewells and tried to return to his room, but Cheonma grabbed his wrist.

"Did you change your bandages tonight?"

Having relied on Cheonma for help every night, Munpyeong had completely forgotten in his absence. "Ah," he thought. Cheonma sighed and pulled his arm, drawing him closer. Caught in his firm grip, Munpyeong was helplessly pulled towards him.

"It's your own body, you should take care of it. Where was your mind?"

"It's almost healed, and I was preoccupied today... It's fine to sleep just for one day."

A vague sense of foreboding made him offer an excuse, but it didn't work. Like a fly being eaten by a carnivorous plant, Munpyeong was dragged into Cheonma's room.

`I knew it.`

As soon as they entered the room, a fierce kiss descended upon him. Munpyeong instinctively stumbled backward as Cheonma pushed him in, devouring his lips. His waist was held tight and the back of his head was gripped, leaving him no way to escape.

A hot tongue swept through his mouth as if plundering it. The way he greedily explored every corner of his mouth, like a thirsty man drinking water, felt almost desperate.

`What's wrong with him?`

Having seen several un-Cheonma-like behaviors tonight, Munpyeong accepted his actions with a mixture of discomfort and awkwardness.

Before he knew it, his shirt was being removed. Cheonma, his hands swift even in this situation, had already untied his belt.

`Is he really going to go through with it?`

Munpyeong had no intention of being taken by Cheonma again in this hazy state, and he felt anxious and annoyed. He had not yet forgiven this man. In fact, he had no intention of ever forgiving him. He had simply given up, having learned through past experience that he couldn't have a sincere conversation with him.

"D-Don't do this. I don't want to."

His chest was tightly bound by the bandages. Munpyeong twisted his body to avoid Cheonma's hand, which was stroking his nipple through the white cloth. Having been pushed back, he was now in front of the bed. If he fell now, he would be at Cheonma's mercy.

Though he had regained some strength during the carriage ride over the past few days, Munpyeong was still far from healthy. He truly wanted to avoid that situation. If he had sex with the relentlessly energetic Cheonma until he was exhausted, the stamina he had just regained would be drained again.

"You must have built up some tension by now. Are you sure you have no desire?"

Cheonma licked his way up Munpyeong's cheek, his tongue tracing the cartilage of his ear as he whispered suggestively. A shiver ran down his neck. Despite having no intention of doing anything, pleasure surged at his caress.

His waist was held tight, preventing his escape, and their lower bodies were pressed together. Though not yet erect, his member was hot and twitching, stimulated as it rubbed against Munpyeong's.

Cheonma's thigh parted Munpyeong's knees. His leg, knowing exactly what it wanted, rubbed teasingly against his groin. A man's body was designed to react to stimulation.

Against his will, Munpyeong's member began to stir. This man was truly excellent at playing with others as he pleased.

Munpyeong felt like his own body wasn't his. The pleasure he felt against his will was a punishment in itself. He was genuinely angry. The more his body felt, the colder his heart became.

He didn't want to be taken as he was in the Demonic Cult, a plaything for someone else. Once was more than enough.

"W-Wait a moment. N-No!!"

Just as he was about to voice his refusal again, Munpyeong felt his belt loosen and his pants slide down. He tried to grab them, but he was pushed onto the bed first. He fell with his thighs half on the bed, and Cheonma's body descended upon him.

His arms, raised to defend himself, were caught first. The bastard was so cheap as to use joint-locking techniques to neutralize his resistance. Cheonma pressed his weight precisely on his groin and sealed Munpyeong's lips. While caressing the inside of his wrist with his thumb, he didn't let go of his arm.

He skillfully pinned him down whenever he tried to struggle. He tried to escape with all his might, but against Cheonma, it was like a child's tantrum.

Sweat beaded on his skin as he struggled, his body flushing. He tried to turn his head, but a tongue followed, and his lower body was constantly rubbed and lifted. The greedy exploration that licked deep into his throat was terrifying. Though he was being handled gently, this was still a form of rape.

`Damn bastard. He has to get what he wants, or he's not satisfied!`

Munpyeong was no stranger to Cheonma's persistent nature. Consideration and compromise were words that didn't even exist in Cheonma's dictionary.

Munpyeong knew he had reason to be upset. The Wusheng Cult, his nephew—all unresolved issues that would naturally be frustrating. But to try to relieve his mood by using him, wasn't that too selfish?

He was forcing his way in without consent, without a care in the world. And this man dared to call it genuine? Dared to say he cared for him?

To Munpyeong, Cheonma was the first person he had ever loved and also the one who had betrayed him most cruelly. Everything he had suffered at his hands had left scars. The deepest of them were created by the good memories he had given him.

For Cheonma, it might all be in the past, but for Munpyeong, it was still ongoing. He was simply too colossal an enemy to even think of confronting, but he had not forgotten a single thing he had endured.

The thought that he would be violated like this no matter how much he refused brought tears to his eyes. He had never shown tears over something like this in front of Cheonma before, but once his emotions were unleashed, they were uncontrollable.

What started as a few drops soon became a stream. It wasn't sadness, but anger. A furious, resentful anger. The fact that he was so helplessly at his mercy was infuriating.

At first, Cheonma tried to ignore this reaction. But as Munpyeong's tears continued to wet his cheek, he couldn't help but be bothered and couldn't continue.

This was the same man who had been so stubbornly defiant during their first time, refusing to show weakness. He had trembled but pretended to be fine, thinking that showing weakness was a loss. Why was he crying now?

It had happened several times before, so why was he so angry now? Cheonma found it difficult to fathom Munpyeong's complex heart. It was easier to deal with him when he wore a mask; when he was genuine, things became more difficult and twisted.

"Do you hate it that much?"

Cheonma sighed quietly and pulled his lips away. Munpyeong, his lower lip swollen from the persistent kissing, looked up at him. His cheeks were drenched with tears, but his glare was sharp. He had never seen such a sharp gaze from tear-filled eyes before.

"My Lord, have you ever been raped?"

Munpyeong asked, his lips trembling. Cheonma remained on top of him, silently looking down at his face.

"You've probably never experienced it, so you don't know, but let me tell you from an experienced person's perspective. It feels absolutely filthy."

"..."

Looking at the lips spewing venom from a deathly pale face, he wanted to kiss him again. He knew the man would despise it, but he still wanted to. He should have been tired of him by now, so why did his eyes still linger on this man?

Cheonma tilted his head inwardly. When he was with this man, he always wanted to touch him. If he was looking away, he wanted to poke his back to get his attention, and even knowing he hated it, he couldn't let him go from the palm of his hand.

"Who told you I'm not experienced?"

Cheonma wiped away the tears trailing down Munpyeong's cheeks with his thumb and asked calmly. Munpyeong blinked, not understanding Cheonma's words. It wasn't whispered, but the content was so shocking that he couldn't immediately comprehend it.

"...Indeed. You're right. It does feel filthy afterward. So much so that you think about it over and over, even after you've killed them."

Cheonma spoke as if to himself and licked the tears from his hand. He had expected them to be salty, but they were surprisingly bland. Was it because they had cooled?

`What? Cheonma was raped?`

Munpyeong was flabbergasted by the incredibly shocking fact he had just learned. He was so surprised that even the tears that were about to fall went back in. Surely not? It must be a joke, right??

"You... have experience?"

How fearless would someone have to be to do that to this man? It was a story he couldn't even imagine, let alone believe. He asked again, stunned.

At Munpyeong's almost panicked reaction, Cheonma laughed. For some reason, old memories kept surfacing today. He hadn't intended to, but he was telling stories he had never told anyone in his life. His mood today must be quite sentimental.

`Or is it because of that bastard Gwak Hyo? Right. Today was a day I met both Woo-gyeong and Gwak Hyo, in a sense.`

The reason stories related to two people who were no longer in this world kept coming up was probably because he had encountered beings that forced him to remember them. Woo-gyeong had appeared before his eyes, and Gwak Hyo had appeared in a story, digging up the two graves in his heart.

"It was when I was young, though. As you can see, I look like this."

Cheonma whispered, looking down at him with the handsome face of a man in his early twenties. The slight frown he made as he spoke made him look even younger.

Well, with a face like that. Munpyeong was only half convinced by Cheonma's words. It would be a lie if no one had coveted him, given his beauty was rare even in the entire world. But even if it was when he was young, he still couldn't believe this man had been forced into such a thing.

How could he have let such a person live? He was the kind of person who would coldly smile and snap someone's neck at the slightest hint of an attempt.

`Well, it seems he did kill them. But still...`

Eighty years is a long time. Munpyeong realized this painfully. Even Cheonma, who seemed to have lived his entire life as a lone wolf doing whatever he pleased, had gone through all sorts of things.

"...If you've experienced it, you should know better. Why are you doing this when you know?"

Munpyeong, who had been momentarily dazed by Cheonma's sudden confession, came to his senses and frowned fiercely. If he knew, he shouldn't be doing it. Why force someone else to experience what he himself had gone through?

Though he had stopped, Cheonma hadn't gotten off him. He remained on top of Munpyeong, their legs entangled, caressing his face and cheeks. There was no sexual intent, but the overly intimate posture was burdensome.

The thing Cheonma had half-raised was still inside Munpyeong's undergarments. Cheonma's, similarly half-aroused, was pressing down on it, so his member showed no signs of subsiding.

"You want revenge, don't you?"

Cheonma suddenly poked at Munpyeong's true feelings. Munpyeong flinched at having his thoughts exposed, but Cheonma showed no sign of reproach.

It couldn't be helped. He was human too. After being betrayed so many times, it would be inhuman not to feel resentment.

Cheonma seemed to know this and had no intention of blaming him. He wasn't asking with the accusation of How dare you have such thoughts? but with the understanding of Of course you would. He watched Munpyeong intently with unreadable eyes.

"I can't say I don't feel that way."

He wouldn't be fooled by a lie, so he answered honestly. Given the way the conversation had been going, it didn't seem like he would lose anything by giving such an answer.

Cheonma nodded at his reply. Perhaps because the other person was so insignificant compared to him, he didn't seem to have any particular feelings about being told he wanted revenge to his face.

"I took my revenge too. I waited patiently until my power was complete, and then I drew my sword. I felt I couldn't be free even from the memories if I didn't kill them. I thought I'd feel refreshed if I just got rid of them. I believed I would never regret that action."

The way his voice trailed off at the end was somehow meaningful.

`Them? Them?`

Cheonma was referring to both the master's wife who had raped him and the master he had killed along with his entire household, but Munpyeong misunderstood and thought the perpetrators had been multiple people.

In his mind, they were all men. Since Cheonma had never shown interest in women, the ones who had raped him must also have been men.

"Did you... regret it?"

"No. Not at all. In fact, I sometimes regret killing them too easily. I suffered for years, but for them, it was over in an instant. If it were now, I would have let them suffer more, but I was too young then."

He had asked just in case there was a twist in the story, but Cheonma bluntly corrected his misunderstanding. If this was the conclusion, why had he told the story that way? To confuse the listener?

"So, if you want to, you do it too. I won't stop you."

"...Pardoooon?"

"Do it. Revenge. If I had endured it, I would tell you to endure it too, but since I didn't, it would be unfair to tell you to. If you want to, you can. I won't stop you."

Munpyeong stared at him blankly with an incredulous expression. Should this be called magnanimity? Or madness? Cheonma was giving him permission, saying that since he did it, you can do it too. He didn't seem to be joking.

This person had a very strange way of putting himself in others' shoes. Most people, if they disliked something that happened to them, wouldn't do it to others. But this person did whatever he wanted and then acted as if, If you're so upset, you do it too.

It's easy to say, but could he really do whatever he wanted? If he could act on his impulses, Munpyeong would have smacked Cheonma on the back of the head a dozen times a day. But there were consequences in the world, and Munpyeong knew how to calculate the price of his actions.

He shouldn't misunderstand Cheonma's breezy permission. Allowing him to take revenge meant he would overlook the act itself, not that he would take responsibility for the aftermath of a failed attempt.

On the contrary, that's when Cheonma's brand of putting himself in others' shoes would reappear. You did what you wanted, so now I'll do what I want. Cheonma was more than capable of that.

"A person can't just do whatever they want in life. Only a few people in the world can do that."

`I'm talking about you. People like you are the exception.`

"I taught you something, didn't I? It will be useful if you use it well."

The target of revenge was none other than himself, yet Cheonma was seriously advising him, even helping him. This wasn't some joke. The most absurd part of this conversation was that the other person was being completely serious.

Munpyeong let out a heartfelt sigh. Talking to Cheonma felt like talking to a demon, not a human. He had gone so far beyond being human that it seemed he couldn't come back.

"It's an internal art I've only learned for five days. It would take half a lifetime to see any real effect."

"The Art of Plucking Yang to Supplement Yang is an internal art that can show sufficient effect within half a year if the compatibility with the partner is good. The key is the partner's level of internal energy, but since it isn't about one-sidedly stealing energy but sharing it, with enough effort, it can be mutually beneficial."

"...Plucking Yang, plucking what?"

"The Art of Plucking Yang to Supplement Yang."

At first, he thought he had misheard. But Cheonma clearly said "The Art of Plucking Yang to Supplement Yang" a second time. From the way he spoke, the internal art seemed to be in the same vein as the Art of Plucking Yang to Supplement Yin. And in this case, it wasn't about drawing a woman's yin energy, but collecting a man's yang energy.

According to Cheonma's logic, to get revenge on him, he had to diligently have sex with him and practice the art.

`Sigh.`

`I was wrong to trust this person in the first place. No wonder he taught me the verses so readily without any pettiness.`

Munpyeong's heart sank as he realized that the internal art he had been diligently cultivating with no small amount of hope was, absurdly, the Art of Plucking Yang to Supplement Yang.

If it really was that art, then it would have no effect until he circulated his qi while having sex. In the end, if he wanted to become a master, he had no choice but to spread his legs for Cheonma.

Unable to think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement like Cheonma, Munpyeong couldn't believe what Cheonma had done to him. Just moments ago, he had thought he couldn't possibly be more upset, but Cheonma, the master of making the impossible possible, had managed to do just that.

Furious, Munpyeong audaciously pushed Cheonma away and stood up. Cheonma, who had briefly considered holding him back, saw Munpyeong's face, red with anger all the way to his neck, and decided to let him go for now. If he pushed him further, there would be another scene. He had already lost a lot of points, so there was no need to make things worse.

"I'll be leaving now!!"

The enraged Munpyeong stomped out of the room.

He's grown up. He knows how to show his temper now. Cheonma smirked as he watched him go.

Though impudent, it was much better than when he would play dead even when poked. At least now, he was overflowing with the vitality of a living being.

***

In Wuhan, the front yard of the Righteous Path Alliance, there was no underworld.

Throughout the entire Central Plains, there were few cities with such a characteristic. Only Wuhan, Dengfeng County of Mount Song, and Jun County of Hubei came to mind.

Naturally, the reason these three places had no underworld was because of the righteous sects located there. Mount Song had the thousand-year-old Shaolin Temple, Jun County had the Wudang Sect, and Wuhan had the Righteous Path Alliance. In these places, which prided themselves on protecting the righteous spirit of the entire Central Plains, the underworld had no place.

Perhaps because of this, the market in Wuhan was incredibly vibrant, incomparable to any other city. It was a massive sight, like all the markets he had passed through combined. As its nickname "Junction of Nine Provinces" suggested, goods from all over the Central Plains gathered here. Silk shops sold both Western silk and Hangzhou silk side by side, and fruit stalls had mountains of lychees that were only found in Yunnan.

Munpyeong walked through the noisy surroundings, looking around. Perhaps because it was a place frequented by countless righteous warriors, no one even glanced at the sword hanging openly at his waist. It was just like when he was in the Demonic Cult.

He hadn't been able to send messages when he was sick, but since waking up, he had been consistently sending black flowers again. He had been nervous that Cheonma might warn him about it, but thankfully, he didn't seem to care.

The last black flower symbol he had sent was from two days ago. In addition to the routine contact, he had included a brief message. If they had seen it, there should be a reply somewhere. As long as the Demon Shadow Corps hadn't lost him.

Looking around, Munpyeong failed to watch where he was going. He almost collided with a group of children running through the crowd and hastily righted himself, watching them pass.

"Waaaaaah!"

The children's shouts were deafening. Someone must have gotten some pocket money and bought firecrackers, because the sound of them popping followed. It was hard to tell which was popping more, the fireworks or the children's laughter. The adults were terrified that a spark might land on their goods, but the sight of the children playing without a care in the world was a joy to watch.

`I should have bought some candy for Ja-ok before I left.`

Seeing the children freely enjoying their childhood made him think of her. He was a man who couldn't even take care of himself, so he tried not to get attached, but he couldn't help but worry about her.

She hadn't been able to come to the market with him today. She had to go to The Hall of Heavenly Might last night to give the testimony that had been postponed.

She was a timid child who was already afraid of adults. His heart grew heavy thinking of her, surrounded by strangers and bombarded with questions. If he hadn't had his own business, he would have attended the interrogation, but unfortunately, the appointment had been made on such short notice that he didn't have the time to look after her.

`Huh, what's that?`

He had almost missed it while thinking about what he had left behind. He caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye and looked back. Just as he suspected, it was a black flower symbol.

On the second floor of a large tea house right next to the main market street, a white towel hung from an open window. It looked like someone was drying a towel with an ink stain on it, but it was the pre-arranged sign for a meeting. What looked like a random ink blot was actually a character written in a form only they could read. To the uninitiated, it looked like nothing, but if you knew how to read it, the meaning was clear.

`They followed me properly.`

He had taken a boat at one point and had been moved while unconscious, so he hadn't been able to properly guide his followers. He finally breathed a sigh of relief. If the Demon Shadow Corps had made it this far, there was only one thing left for him to do. He had gone through all sorts of hardships, but the end was finally in sight.

"Welcome!"

As he entered the tea house, a shop boy greeted him cheerfully. He was a short man with a kind face and a bright smile.

"I have an appointment on the second floor. The third room from the right."

Munpyeong stated the location he had calculated by counting the windows from outside. The shop boy grinned, showing his yellowed teeth in recognition.

"The third room on the second floor? Ah, yes. The guest in that room said another person would be coming. This way, please. I'll guide you."

Following his brisk steps, he went up to the second floor. Unlike the first floor, which was crowded with tables, the second floor, with its private partitioned rooms, was pleasant and quiet. It was a place for people with means to drink tea or have secret meetings, so it had a certain level of class.

"Are you in, guest? Your companion has arrived."

They passed through the corridor and arrived at the door of the third room from the right. The shop boy announced their arrival from outside the door.

"Bring him in."

A low, stiff reply came from inside. The hurried tone, as if trying to hide something, was suspicious.

Tsk. If you're going to hide, at least do it properly. Munpyeong inwardly clicked his tongue at the clumsy acting that failed to even pretend to be a normal person.

"Please, go in."

With permission granted, the shop boy even opened the door for him. Munpyeong, who had walked in without a second thought, froze when he saw the three men standing inside. Their faces were hidden by their deeply pulled-down bamboo hats, but their builds were strangely familiar. He had seen them somewhere before, though he couldn't remember when.

`But that's impossible. Where would I have seen three Shadow Demons at once?`

A strange anxiety, like a pull at the back of his head, urged him to make a decision. Knowing from long experience that he should follow his instincts when they warned him, he instantly pulled back and threw himself backward.

`These men are not Shadow Demons!!`

Though the description is long, it all happened in an instant. He had taken one step inside the moment the door opened and immediately pulled back, so his judgment could not be called slow.

But before Munpyeong could fully retreat, a hidden weapon struck him in the back of the neck like lightning. It hadn't come from inside the room, where he had been on guard, but from outside. Munpyeong gasped, his eyes widening.

The shop boy, who had been smiling so kindly just moments before, was now holding a hidden weapon launcher that had been concealed in his sleeve, aiming it at him. His honest-looking face was still full of smiles. Damn it, he thought, but his already fading consciousness was merciless.

Munpyeong lost consciousness and fell from the air. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

***

"Fuck, can't I have some fun? I'm just saying, a little taste. This bastard looks like he'd be chewy as hell."

"No, you crazy bastard. What if he bites his tongue and kills himself after we went through all the trouble of catching him?"

"You think a man is the same as a girl? Men don't kill themselves, even if their assholes get torn. They're the kind of creatures who can't even imagine dying like that."

"Still no. You didn't let me have that girl yesterday either. It's not fair for you to have all the fun."

"Damn it! Of course you couldn't have her. What if we got caught raping a kid right under the nose of the Righteous Path Alliance? You want to put up a sign saying the Three Ghost Demons were here?"

The sound of their bickering woke him up. Munpyeong listened to the rough curses ringing in his ears and forced his eyes open. His mind was gradually clearing, but he couldn't open his eyes properly. His eyelids felt like they were glued shut. His limbs were heavy and numb, and he felt nauseous. The bitter aftertaste when he swallowed told him he had been drugged with a knockout poison.

"Ah, he's awake. He's awake."

"He woke up faster than I thought. Was the dose too small?"

From their way of talking, they sounded like common thugs. But the aura they exuded was anything but trivial. Munpyeong kept his guard up and lifted his head. As his blurry vision cleared, he could see their faces distinctly.

Ordinary faces, neither handsome nor ugly. But their eyes, where the whites should be, glowed red.

The red eyes allowed Munpyeong to recognize them instantly. They were the Three Ghost Demons who had attacked the pleasure boat.

As he looked up, Gyesalgwi, who had quite a bad history with him, squatted down in front of him with a particularly pleased expression. Munpyeong realized that the most annoying voice that had been torturing his ears was his.

"Long time no see, pretty boy. It's your husband. You're so happy to see me you could cry, right?"

Gyesalgwi chattered excitedly, his face so close their noses were almost touching.

Disgusted, Munpyeong tried to pull his head back, but his chin was caught. He tried to twist his body away, but he couldn't move. His arms were tied behind his back around a pillar, and a rope connected his wrists to his ankles. His pressure points were sealed, so he couldn't even summon his internal energy. He was completely and utterly trapped.

Like a predator savoring its prey, a long, thick tongue slowly licked up his cheek. A hot breath washed over him. Both the tongue and the breath were excessively hot. It felt like he was being fondled by a beast, not a person. Munpyeong shuddered involuntarily.

"Not happy at all. Don't tell me you followed me all the way here?"

Not content with "girl," now it was "pretty boy." Munpyeong, who had no intention of being called such things by Gyesalgwi, sneered at him. But Gyesalgwi paid him no mind.

"You ran away so fast that day. I called for you so desperately from behind, but you didn't even look back once. Leading me on like that and then running away is not something a person should do. Do you have any idea how upset I was after I let you go that day? Your firm ass kept popping into my head even when I was sleeping."

The more Munpyeong shuddered, the more Gyesalgwi seemed to enjoy it. He chattered on in a lewd voice, blatantly stroking the inside of Munpyeong's spread thighs.

With his ankles and wrists tied together, Munpyeong was in a position with his knees spread and his legs open. Gyesalgwi did not miss this opportunity. He quickly moved in and toyed with Munpyeong's open body.

He reached inside Munpyeong's shirt and pinched his nipple. He deliberately pulled out what was hidden under the bandage and scratched it with his fingernail, painfully pressing down on it as it hardened from the stimulation.

Munpyeong turned his head in shame at the direct and blatant fondling, but it was useless. Gyesalgwi deliberately twisted his chin to force eye contact, watching every change in his expression.

The tender skin of his nipple was torn by the fingernail. Swollen and sensitive, the skin glistened as if it would tear with a little more pressure.

"Ah, fuck it. I can't take it anymore. Let's do it now!"

Gyesalgwi, who had been intently watching Munpyeong's face flush with shame and anger while grinding his groin against him, suddenly shouted. Sisalgwi (The Corpse Ghost), standing leisurely behind him, looked at the excited Gyesalgwi with a displeased expression.

"Yeah, I can't stand to watch this anymore either, so let's get it over with. Why should he be the only one having fun?"

"All right, all right. Just wait."

He thought there were only the three of them in the room, but he was wrong. As they openly expressed their impatience, someone from the next room replied. Soon, he returned with a tray. The tray was filled with objects that gave off a suspicious smell.

Munpyeong recognized the new man at once. He was the same shop boy who had shot him with the hidden weapon.

"This thing is not as easy to handle as it looks. It takes a lot of work just to prepare it."

The smile that Munpyeong had found pleasant was still on his face. When the man gestured to Gyesalgwi, he reluctantly stepped back.

Munpyeong glared fiercely at the shop boy. His expression said he would tear him limb from limb if he ever got his hands on him, but the shop boy was completely unfazed.

"Open your mouth."

The shop boy ordered Munpyeong while gathering the tools on the tray. His polite tone seemed to be a habit, as he still used honorifics even in this situation.

"I said, open your mouth."

"Who do you think you are?"

When Munpyeong refused to comply with the second request, the third came in the form of action. He pried open Munpyeong's mouth with his pincer-like hands. He resisted with all his might, but he couldn't succeed. His pressure points had been sealed.

After a short struggle, his mouth was forced open, and a viscous liquid flowed down his throat. Something wriggled in the slick liquid. A fishy, foul smell filled his mouth. It smelled like rotten blood mixed with pig dung.

Munpyeong's stomach turned. He wanted to vomit it out, but the hand holding his jaw firm made it impossible.

The liquid flowed down his open throat. His throat moved convulsively, but he could do nothing with just that. After feeding Munpyeong everything in the small bowl, the man released his pressure points and stepped back.

**Cough, cough, cough.**

Finally free, Munpyeong coughed violently without even lifting his head. But no matter how much he coughed, he couldn't spit out what had already gone down.

"Now we just have to wait for it to circulate through the heart a few times."

`What will happen then? What are they planning?`

Just yesterday, Munpyeong had heard the secret story of the Geonyeja and the Blood Tear Pill from Baek Woo-gyeong. He knew that the Wusheng Cult used strange, sinister arts. He had thought something was off when they forced him to drink that terrible liquid, and sure enough, they had a motive.

The moment he realized he was the target of their sinister art, his heart began to pound madly. He knew this would only put his enemies at an advantage, but he couldn't control the frantic beating of his heart in the face of danger.

"If that's the case, leave it to me. I'll save you some time."

Hearing the shop boy's words, Gyesalgwi stepped forward confidently. He slid his hand inside Munpyeong's thigh and grabbed his testicles without warning. Squeezing the two solid balls in his hand, he gazed at Munpyeong's face, contorted in pain, as if in ecstasy.

His vitals caught in a twisting grip, Munpyeong couldn't suppress a rising scream. The pain was unbearable. It felt like his lower body was being torn off.

"Urk! Ugh!"

"Good voice."

"Ugh, you son of a bitch!!"

"Don't hate me so much. I need to get a taste too. I couldn't even enjoy my hobby because I was chasing after you bastards. I had to lie low for a fortnight. Do you have any idea how desperate I am right now? I'm even starting to eye Sisalgwi's sour ass."

Gyesalgwi tormented him by squeezing and releasing the testicles in his hand. He was maliciously channeling his internal energy, so the pain, like his groin was being torn out, intensified.

Munpyeong arched his back like a bow and bit his lip until it bled. He didn't want to give Gyesalgwi, who enjoyed his screams, any more pleasure, but groans of pain still escaped through his clenched teeth.

"Crazy bastard. He's a man himself, how can he do that?"

"I know, right? What a pervert."

Chusalgwi (The Devouring Ghost), who enjoyed tearing open young girls' crotches, and Sisalgwi, who was rumored to have deliberately killed his first love just to possess her, whispered as they watched Gyesalgwi. Gyesalgwi only released his hand after twisting the testicles to his heart's content.

**Gasp. Gasp. Gasp.**

Munpyeong, who had been tortured for no short time, gasped for breath, sweat dripping from his face.

His face and entire body were flushed red. He felt completely drained of energy. His testicles still burned like fire. He could feel them swelling without even looking down.

"This should be enough, right? Or do you still need more time?"

"No, this is sufficient."

Perhaps feeling a sense of camaraderie as a fellow man, the shop boy's smile faltered slightly. Munpyeong closed his eyes, sweat dripping from his face. His pale lips trembled with anger.

He bitterly regretted his momentary carelessness. If he hadn't been so elated about his impending freedom, he wouldn't have ended up like this. He wanted to break free and slaughter them all, but there was no way. He wanted to make them regret what they had done to him, both in life and in death, but he had not been given such power.

"Hey, can I try this? I've heard about it before, but I've never actually done it."

As their intended 'work' was about to begin, Sisalgwi hesitantly stepped forward and volunteered. The shop boy hesitated for a moment, but when Sisalgwi pressed again, he couldn't refuse and accepted his request.

"Go ahead. Giving the command isn't very difficult. You just have to hold this box."

The shop boy handed the jade box he was holding to Sisalgwi. Sisalgwi eagerly took it and examined it curiously.

The object looked perfectly normal on the outside. Just an ordinary jade box. Except for the sloshing sound it made when shaken, as if it contained liquid.

"State your name."

Munpyeong snorted at the abrupt, commanding question.

`What? Are you crazy? Tell you my name?`

He had no intention of answering any questions. Even if tortured, he would not open his mouth.

But as he steeled himself, a sharp pain shot through his stomach. Something hot and cold twisted his intestines. It felt like something alive was rampaging inside him.

`What is this?`

A chill ran down his spine at the incomprehensible sensation. Cold sweat drenched his clenched fists.

"Seok Munpyeong."

His mouth opened unexpectedly. The answer was unnaturally curt, but the words had definitely come from his own mouth. His spine went cold, as if frozen.

Excited, Sisalgwi asked another question.

"Age?"

"Thirty-four."

Munpyeong was terrified, feeling his lips move against his will.

"Affiliation?"

"Demonic Cult, Outer Branch. Soul-Slaying Brigade. Third Squad Leader."

"Wow. You don't look it, but you're from the Demonic Cult? This is awesome."

Chusalgwi whistled at his answer. He couldn't keep his mouth shut. Any effort to suppress his answers was futile. His mouth moved on its own, as if it were separate from his body.

"You came with that bitch Ja-ok, right? Where is she now? What's her exact location?"

"Together, The Hall of Heavenly Might, Guesthouse..."

"Fuck, what are you saying?"

"You have to ask precise questions. If you ask multiple questions at once, the Heart-Facing Worm can't process them properly."

Sisalgwi got annoyed when Munpyeong's answers became jumbled. The shop boy patiently explained the reason, as if calming a short-tempered child.

"Ah, got it. I'll ask again. That bitch Ja-ok, where is she now?"

"The Hall of Heavenly Might."

"What's her exact location?"

"Guesthouse of Esteemed Visitors. Villa of Glorious Prosperity. First room on the left."

The answers came out on their own, without a moment's hesitation. Crucial information about Ja-ok was being helplessly given to the enemy. Munpyeong wanted to bite his own tongue off. But his damned jaw refused to obey his will.

"They're putting a mangy dog like her in such a nice place. The guesthouse, huh? How are we supposed to get in there?"

"The Cult will figure out a way. We just have to do as we're told, right?"

"Ah, dammit. So we have to just sit here and wait for the next orders? I'm so bored I could die."

Hearing Munpyeong's answers, the Three Ghost Demons muttered among themselves.

`Don't tell me, they're still after Ja-ok?`

Even in his agonizing state, Munpyeong couldn't help but feel puzzled. Even though Ja-ok had already arrived at the Righteous Path Alliance, they still hadn't given up on her. The Righteous Path Alliance, with its thousands of first-rate masters, dozens of peak masters, and a few transcendent masters always on guard, was an impenetrable fortress, even more so than the imperial palace.

"There's no need for all that."

The shop boy, who had been listening quietly, interjected.

"What? You got a special method?"

The shop boy, who seemed to be the brains of the group, offered advice that caught the attention of the Three Ghost Demons, their eyes lighting up.

"The reason it took so long to prepare the interrogation just now was because I had to mix the Guodu Worm and the Heart-Facing Worm. It requires a special technique to keep them from eating each other. It's a lot of work, but the effect is outstanding. If we use the Guodu Worm, we can easily get that girl out without having to infiltrate the Righteous Path Alliance."

"What? How?"

"That's what the Guodu Worm does. Hold on, I'll show you."

The man approached Munpyeong, excited as if showing off a prized possession.

"Stay still."

He spat the command at Munpyeong. Then he took out a knife and cut the ropes binding him. He even released the sealed pressure points. Perhaps thinking they didn't need to be tense with three peak masters on their side, the Three Ghost Demons just watched with interest.

Even with the ropes cut, Munpyeong did nothing. He didn't summon his internal energy or use his movement technique, remaining seated in the same position he had been tied in.

The Three Ghost Demons looked at each other in amazement. They weren't fools; they realized what the shop boy was trying to show them. Munpyeong's inability to move was due to the shop boy's command.

"Stand up!"

Munpyeong stood up. Watching his own body move against his will at another's command, he felt a terrifying fear. His mind was trapped in his body. How could one or two worms make this possible? Even though he was experiencing it himself, he couldn't believe it.

"Hoo. Guodu Worm, huh? Now I see why it's called that. This is a complete puppet."

Chusalgwi said, delighted by the fact that he could control another's body with a single command. Gyesalgwi's eyes shone even brighter. His gaze was filled with the joy of someone who had found a luminous pearl on the street.

"This is going to be fun. Can I borrow him for a bit before we carry out the mission? I'll return him in good condition."

Gyesalgwi licked his lips nervously and made the proposal. The shop boy shrugged, his attitude ambiguous.

"What are you planning now, you bastard?"

Sisalgwi, who had been annoyed by his excitement, picked a fight. He seemed to be jealous that Gyesalgwi was having all the fun while he wasn't.

"I'm thinking of trying oral sex. I've done everything else, but I've never done that. I've done it after pulling out their teeth, but I've never succeeded when their teeth were intact. The bastards always try to bite me."

"Hoo. Is that so? Now that you mention it, I don't think I've ever done that either."

Chusalgwi, his interest piqued, chimed in. The two of them, whose minds were filled with nothing but that, discussed Munpyeong's various uses as if he were a caught fish.

"Exactly. So let's try it now. Opportunities like this don't come often."

The shop boy hadn't even given his permission, but Gyesalgwi was already rubbing his hands together as if everything was decided. Munpyeong shivered at Gyesalgwi's lecherous gaze on his lips.

With Chusalgwi unexpectedly showing interest, the scales tipped easily. Sisalgwi, who had no interest in living people, said he would sit this one out, but Gyesalgwi and Chusalgwi were already looking at Munpyeong with faces full of anticipation.

`I'll kill you, you sons of bitches. I'll fucking kill you!!`

Munpyeong glared at them with bloodshot eyes. If he could move his body on his own again, if he could do anything with his own hands, the first thing he would do was grab a sword and charge at them. The rational thought that he was no match for them, or that dying like this would be a pointless death, didn't even cross his mind.

"I'll go first. Me first! It was my idea."

Gyesalgwi was already unfastening his belt as he approached Munpyeong. The shop boy, seeing this, shook his head as if he couldn't help it.

"Why don't you do it after you get back? We don't have much time now."

"Just a little taste before we go. You know how bored we've been."

"Hmph. Fine."

Don't. You bastard. Don't do it!! Munpyeong screamed in his mind, but his voice didn't come out. The shop boy, completely ignoring his despair, finally gave the command.

"Kneel."

Munpyeong's body knelt on the spot without a single sign of resistance.

"Open your mouth."

Gyesalgwi, his face full of excitement, untied his belt in front of Munpyeong's face. Chusalgwi also watched with aroused interest.

A dark object dangled in front of Munpyeong's nose. Gyesalgwi's member, discolored from so much use, was already erect and twitching as if to greet him.

The smell of stale semen wafted from the member right in front of his nose. He felt like he was going to vomit, but he couldn't turn his head. Munpyeong's lips were slack, ready to obey the command.

His body, moving like a doll at another's command, offered itself up as a plaything. Unable to close his eyes or look away, forced to keep his mouth open, Munpyeong's mind boiled with a rage like molten lava. He couldn't bear this shame, this humiliation.

**Thwack!**

It happened at that moment. With a sudden, unexpected sound, a hot liquid splattered on his face.

At first, he thought Gyesalgwi had climaxed prematurely in his excitement. But when he saw the twitching member go rigid, and the body, as stiff as a block of wood, topple to the floor, he realized something else had happened.

Gyesalgwi's body, lying on the floor, had no head. It was completely smashed, like a watermelon crushed by a fist. The gruesome sight of brains and bone fragments splattered everywhere unfolded before him. Only then did Munpyeong realize what had soiled his face.

"What the fuck is this bastard!"

Seeing Gyesalgwi's sudden death, Chusalgwi charged at the sudden intruder in a rage. It had happened so quickly that he hadn't realized Gyesalgwi, who was on par with him in skill, had been killed in a single blow. He moved on pure emotion. His foolish mistake was soon met with a brutal price.

**Thump!** The sound of flesh and bone bursting rang out once more.

Not even twice. Just once. The man who had created a huge hole in his opponent's chest with a single punch turned and looked at Sisalgwi.

Sisalgwi, who had been quicker on the uptake than Chusalgwi, was already in mid-air. The opponent who had killed two peak masters with a single blow each was an absolute master of unimaginable power. There was no chance of winning if he fought, and even less chance of survival. Besides, he had no loyalty to avenge the other two. They had only stuck together because it was mutually beneficial; they were not friends.

"You rat."

The absolute master spoke in a cold, emotionless tone and threw a punch. A fist of qi, tearing through the air, shot from his hand.

Normally, the power of a long-range qi attack diminishes with distance, but this absolute master's attack boasted a destructive power that transcended distance.

**Splat!** This bursting sound was particularly violent compared to the others. Sisalgwi, running towards the window, was hit in the back by the qi fist, and the added momentum sent him crashing into the wall as a bloody pulp. Blood and flesh splattered against the wall like mush. It was hard to look at, as he was so mangled he was barely recognizable as a person.

"Ah, ahhhhhh!!"

The shop boy, who had seemed incapable of losing his smile, screamed at the sight of the three massacred bodies.

He was a typical coward who could inflict cruel acts on others without batting an eye but couldn't bear it when it happened to him. He couldn't regain his composure in the face of the tragedy before him.

As the absolute master turned to him, the shop boy's legs gave out, and he collapsed.

With a master who had beaten three peak masters to death with his bare hands staring at him with a menacing aura, he didn't even notice the yellow liquid flowing down his legs.

"P-Please, spare, spare me..."

With a low snort, as if he wasn't even worth a reply, the master made a throat-slitting gesture with his hand. Without a blade, just a light slash of the hand, a reddish line appeared on the shop boy's neck. As if cleanly sliced by a sharp sword, his neck slowly separated from his body, his face still contorted in a scream.

Only after his head rolled onto the floor did he seem to realize what had happened, his expression changing. A horrific scream would have suited the face, twisted in terror, but thankfully, his vocal cords were severed before he could make a sound, sparing them the noise.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Munpyeong, kneeling rigidly on the floor, couldn't even turn his head, so he could only guess at what was happening outside his field of vision.

He had killed four people like flies with a single flick of his hand. The mercilessness of it felt strangely satisfying, a testament to the depth of the grudge that had been planted in him.

Only after cleaning up the trash in the room did the absolute master—Cheonma—turn to Munpyeong. He finally noticed something was wrong with his body and clicked his tongue.

"What happened?"

"..."

Munpyeong couldn't answer. Puzzled, Cheonma approached and examined him. He checked him meticulously, careful not to miss anything, but there was no sign of any sealed pressure points.

`Did those Wusheng Cult bastards use one of their sinister arts on him?`

Frustrated, Cheonma enhanced his vision and observed the inside of Munpyeong's body. To be precise, he observed the flow of qi, but thankfully, there was no sign of a difficult-to-break internal energy or any evil arts.

His qi circulation was normal, and his blood flow was fine. However, a strange energy was wriggling in his naohu acupoint, interfering with his brain functions, which was irritating.

The energy was similar to that of a gu poison, but upon closer inspection, it also contained another, foreign energy.

`A new toy created by the Wusheng Cult?`

It was the first time even Cheonma had seen such a thing, but after observing the flow of energy for a moment, he could roughly grasp its principle.

`It controls the host's body by disrupting the brain's functions. The concept seems to be based on the Gordian worm, but the structure is cruder. It was either hastily made, or the creator's skills are poor.`

There are few evil energies that can overcome pure metal qi. Things with such a crude structure are even less likely to. Cheonma sent his own pure qi into Munpyeong's body, enveloped the worms, and incinerated them with metal qi. They burned without even a twitch, leaving not even a speck of dust as he expelled them from his body.

Only then did Munpyeong blink. He fluttered his eyelids to soothe his bloodshot eyes and looked up at Cheonma.

"Didn't I tell you not to eat just anything you find? Last time it was gu poison, and this time it's some unknown worm. Do you go around eating dirt?"

Cheonma deliberately chided him, finding the way Munpyeong's shoulders relaxed like a relieved child's strange. But Munpyeong didn't seem to hear his scolding. He bowed his head deeply and thanked him.

"Th-Thank you."

It had been a moment of absolute crisis. He could have been orally raped by two perverts and then forced to kill Ja-ok with his own hands. If not for Cheonma's timely appearance, he wouldn't have even survived.

"Thank you so much."

As if once wasn't enough, Munpyeong bowed to him again. He never thought the day would come when he would thank Cheonma so sincerely. But today, he felt he could do it a hundred, a thousand times. Cheonma hadn't just saved his life. He had saved his pride and his dignity as well.

The moment he realized he was safe, a cold sweat broke out all over his body. He had been so tense while trapped in his own body that his heart was still pounding like crazy.

Unable to support himself any longer, he collapsed, covering his face with his trembling hands. This must be what they meant by "escaping death by a hair's breadth."

"What happened?"

Cheonma asked quietly, his hands behind his back as he surveyed the surroundings. When he arrived, he found a line of men waiting to orally rape Munpyeong, whose face was deathly pale, so he had beaten them all to death first.

He didn't regret his impulsive action, but now that they were all dead, there were no clues to the situation. He had no idea why this man had been dragged here, or how he had run into those bastards. He had more than a few questions.

"What are these things?"

Cheonma kicked a corpse with his foot as if it were an object. The fact that he asked "what" instead of "who" was very much like him.

"They were the... Three Ghost Demons."

"The Three Ghost Demons?"

Cheonma was no stranger to that name. He had been holding a grudge against them for the incident at Dongting Lake, but he had never imagined these were the same ones. A glint flashed in his eyes.

"How did you meet them? What exactly happened?"

Munpyeong, who had been curled up on the floor trying to calm himself, suddenly flinched at the question. He seemed to be the victim, but for some reason, he couldn't answer.

He remained curled up on the floor for a long time after Cheonma asked the question. His prolonged silence began to sow suspicion in Cheonma's mind. Just then, a question came back from Munpyeong.

"...How did you know?"

Munpyeong, who had been burying his face in his hands, lifted his head and looked at Cheonma. Cheonma, who had flinched inwardly, was a man who had lived nearly sixty years longer than him. He skillfully hid his surprise and asked back with a puzzled expression.

"Know what?"

"My location. I was brought here unconscious, so I don't even know where this is. How did you know I was here?"

Munpyeong relentlessly pressed him, not letting him change the subject. Realizing his deed had been exposed, Cheonma answered with a bold attitude.

"I used a tracking scent."

"You put a tracking scent on me?!"

He had expected it, but hearing it directly was still shocking. He had beheaded an innocent subordinate because he didn't want to be followed, so why was he putting such things on others without a word of consent? What did he intend to do by knowing his location at all times?

"Don't change the subject. Explain yourself. What were you doing here? I specifically told you to take the Broken-Faced Wanderer with you if you went out, but you ditched him like a lizard sheds its tail and came out alone. What secret business did you have that you would risk such danger?"

After Munpyeong's jab, Cheonma launched a counterattack. Human relationships were all about give and take. Cheonma, who had put the tracking scent on him with a suspicion in mind, coldly asked Munpyeong, who had almost suffered an unspeakable ordeal while wandering around recklessly.

"I-It was for a personal matter."

"Hmm. A personal matter? The very same personal matter that seems to occur every two days?"

Munpyeong winced at Cheonma's sarcastic tone, which suggested he knew something. He had a knack for pinpointing exactly what people were desperately trying to hide, as if he had x-ray vision.

He doesn't know everything, does he? His heart tightened with a flicker of hope, but with a considerable amount of guilt, Munpyeong decided to bluff as much as he could.

"I-It was a mission I couldn't refuse, an order directly from the strategist."

"Two days later, Wuhan market. A ten-stroke character mark. What were you planning to do by meeting with the following Shadow Demons?"

He was reciting the black flower message Munpyeong had left for the Shadow Demons. The first two were the date and time, and the "ten-stroke character" was the type of black flower used for identification during a rendezvous.

He knew all along. Faced with the evidence shoved in his face, Munpyeong's world went dark.

`Of course he knew. I used the Cult's black flower.`

Thinking back, it was foolish to have sent a message in a code that Cheonma could obviously read.

It would be ridiculous if the leader of the Demonic Cult couldn't read the black flower code used within his own organization. Moreover, he was the one who had completely redesigned the code system when he reformed the disorganized information division into the Secret Inquiry Pavilion. Technically, he was more of an expert than Munpyeong, so trying to keep a secret using that code was a fool's errand.

"You already knew."

Munpyeong muttered in resignation.

"How could I pretend not to know when you even gave me a heads-up on when and where you were running away? I used a little tracking scent to follow you properly. So, are you very upset that I saved you?"

From the way he spoke, it seemed he had known everything from the beginning. He knew that Munpyeong had planned to hand over his identity to the Demon Shadow Corps and then disappear.

This was why Munpyeong was afraid of him. It wasn't just that he knew things without being told; it was that he would pretend not to know and then strike from behind at a critical moment that was more terrifying.

He can see a thousand li while sitting and ten thousand li while standing. This was what he did. At this rate, he was nothing more than the Monkey King in the Buddha's palm.

"...I already told you. I'm grateful that you saved me."

With nothing to say for himself, Munpyeong mumbled his thanks again.

He had been saved by a fluke, but a savior was a savior. His initial gratitude had halved after learning the truth, but he couldn't deny the debt he owed him.

The tracking scent he had used to chase him had ended up saving his life. To question him about it would be an act of ingratitude. If they were to trace the root of the matter, the arrow would point back at him.

Cheonma was the kind of person who would feign ignorance to the end, even when he knew he was wrong. So in a situation where his own fault was so great, Cheonma's small misdeed would be nothing.

From past experience, he could well predict how things would unfold. Munpyeong sighed deeply and sat up from his prostrate position.

He had just had an experience so horrific that he probably wouldn't find its equal in his entire life, but the feeling of it had evaporated with surprising ease. He had been so preoccupied with his conversation with Cheonma that he hadn't had time to dwell on anything else.

It was always like this with Cheonma. He was a person who played with others' emotions as he pleased, and he was so swayed by him that he couldn't think of anything else.

Munpyeong couldn't tell if this was a good thing or a bad thing. In some ways, it felt like he was being overly dominated, but at other times, it felt like he was being protected.

He had felt it when he saw Cheonma slaughtering the Three Ghost Demons. There was no one more reassuring to have on your side. The problem was that most of the time, it didn't feel like he was an ally at all.

"What are you sitting there dazed for? Are you planning to sit in this blood-soaked room all night? Get up. We need to go back and eat."

Cheonma cut the argument short, as if he didn't want to continue it. At his almost scolding tone, Munpyeong had no choice but to get up and walk.