ch 16

 

Chapter 16

Kashmiri silk was known for being as thin and soft as a dragonfly’s wing. Its colors were subtle and varied, shimmering with a different luster at every angle, catching the light in a new way with every movement. It was woven so tightly with threads so fine they were nearly invisible to the naked eye. From a distance, its texture was so smooth it brought to mind the phrase "cheonuimubong"—the seamless robes of a heavenly being.

However, for all its beauty, this Kashmiri silk was an incredibly difficult fabric to care for. It was so delicate that it could not be used in a single layer and had to be layered, making it all the more troublesome. And it was this very demanding silk that was used for the canopy in the Thunder Palace. It was the height of extravagance, but for a figure of Cheonma’s stature, such a luxury was nothing.

“Where is your mind? What will you do if you leave a scorch mark on the silk?”

A thunderous scolding fell upon the head of a maid who had been lost in thought. Ranran, who had just entered with an armful of silk that had been carefully dried in the shade, raised her voice the moment she saw the maid pressing the iron for far too long. The startled maid lifted the iron and frantically checked beneath the cotton cloth. Fortunately, there was no scorch mark.

“Step aside. I’ll do it myself.”

Although she had lifted her hand in time to avoid disaster, being caught by the fastidious Ranran meant a harsh reprimand was unavoidable.

The maid retreated with slumped shoulders, and Ranran took her place. She placed the silk on a clean table, covered it with another white cotton cloth, and picked up the iron.

Even after Cheonma had left the Demonic Cult, the Thunder Palace remained empty. Ho Wan-pyeong, who had ascended to the position of Cult Leader, had not moved into the Thunder Palace after inheriting the title, remaining in his own quarters instead. Perhaps he felt hesitant, as the position had not been formally abdicated to him, or perhaps he wished to leave a place for his master’s eventual return.

Though no one had entered for months, the Thunder Palace was always kept impeccably clean. Yehwa and Ranran, who were still assigned to the hall, diligently swept and polished, waiting for their master.

“Oh my, are you handling the iron yourself? You could have the younger girls do that.”

“The girls’ work is never quite up to par. Besides, you’re airing out the books yourself, aren’t you, sister?”

“Oh, this is just a pastime for me. It’s hardly any trouble.”

Saying that the sun was especially fine today, Yehwa, who had been airing out Cheonma’s collection of books, gave a bashful smile and began placing the volumes she held back on the shelves.

Unlike the books of the Central Plains, which were stacked horizontally, the bound books of the Western Regions had to be shelved vertically. At first, she had struggled, not knowing how to handle them, but after a decade with these foreign books, she had developed her own knack.

She skillfully shelved the books, tidying the messy shelves. She didn’t forget to find a place for the books that continued to accumulate even in Cheonma’s absence.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Sohong around lately.”

Yehwa spoke casually as she arranged the armful of books. Ranran, whose brow was furrowed with more wrinkles than the silk she was meticulously ironing, answered her question.

“She’s been going to the Inner Guard Pavilion lately.”

“Hmm? What do you mean? Why the Inner Guard Pavilion?”

“To teach them how to manage the Cult Leader’s household. Now that the Great Young Lord has become the Cult Leader, the Inner Guard Pavilion is responsible for the main household. But those girls over there know nothing about it, so what can we do? We had to send someone.”

“Goodness. Chwi-yeong must have been horrified.”

“I don’t care if she was horrified or not. If you don’t know, you must learn. Shouldn’t a person be ashamed of their ignorance, not of learning?”

Ranran defended herself, echoing a phrase Cheonma himself was fond of. It was clear she wouldn’t be swayed, no matter how nicely one put it.

Chwi-yeong of the Inner Guard Pavilion was the same age as Ranran. As the respective head maids of the Cult Leader’s Hall and the Great Young Lord’s Hall, there had long been a subtle rivalry between them.

The head maid of the Cult Leader's Hall was essentially the leader of all maids in the cult, so Ranran considered Chwi-yeong her subordinate. Chwi-yeong, on the other hand, never doubted that as the head maid of the Great Young Lord's Hall, she would one day be in charge of the Cult Leader’s household, and she bitterly resented Ranran's overbearing authority.

Since they were both prideful and hated to yield to others, their clashes were inevitable. As a result, their fierce rivalry had become so famous that even the martial artists knew of it.

“If that was the case, you should have told me. It would have looked much better for me to go than to send Sohong.”

“If you went there, sister, it would look like we were bowing our heads to them. That girl Chwi-yeong’s arrogance is already off the charts these days. How could I stand by and watch that happen?”

When Yehwa worried that her actions might have been too harsh, Ranran, uncharacteristically, pouted and grumbled like a child. She always became like this when Chwi-yeong was mentioned. Normally, she was a mature and composed girl with no discernible flaws, but at times like this, she was nothing but a little girl, which was rather cute.

Yehwa couldn’t suppress a smile and let out a small chuckle. A young girl acting her age wasn’t such a bad sight to see.

“If you don’t want to see it with your eyes open, then see it with them closed. I’m not going to change my ways just because you don’t like it.”

A strange voice cut into their pleasant conversation. Yehwa, still smiling, turned her head. Ranran, who had been grumbling while focusing on her ironing, also looked up.

Standing where the voice had come from was Chwi-yeong, the very subject of their conversation, with her hands on her hips. Trailing behind her like a tail was a cowering Sohong.

“What is the meaning of this? How dare you enter the Thunder Palace without permission?”

Realizing who it was, Ranran’s demeanor turned icy. She placed the iron back on its brazier, straightened her posture, and glared at Chwi-yeong. Chwi-yeong met her gaze with a faint smile on her lips. The arrogant smile that spread across her peony-like face was remarkably similar to the one Ranran often wore herself.

“I’m not a formal guest, just a maid coming and going on business. Do I need permission for every little thing? Since when was that the rule? And who, exactly, grants that permission?”

She asked boldly. In principle, she wasn’t wrong. But it was so flagrantly different from the generally accepted custom that Yehwa couldn’t help but doubt her ears.

The Thunder Palace, Cheonma’s residence, had always been treated as a special place within the Demonic Cult. Just as a high mountain casts a deep shadow, Cheonma’s lofty authority had extended to those who served him.

Just as guests of Cheonma could not enter the Thunder Palace without permission, other maids could not come and go without permission from Ranran or Yehwa. They certainly couldn’t just announce their arrival; they had to be summoned, like a subordinate being called by a superior, before they could cautiously make their way over.

Therefore, the attitude Chwi-yeong was taking now went beyond unconventional; it bordered on rude. Even Yehwa, who usually let things pass with a smile, no longer felt like smiling.

“You must be out of your mind. Even if you’re blinded by riding the back of a tiger, you should know your place. Have you even considered what the Cult Leader would say if he knew what you’ve done?”

Ranran coldly rebuked Chwi-yeong for her audacity. Yehwa, too, thought this was going too far. Their superiors might not care about petty squabbles between them, but if that squabble escalated into a power struggle between the current and former Cult Leader’s halls, they wouldn’t just stand by and watch. This was not a trivial matter; it concerned Cheonma’s honor. It was far too dangerous a subject for a mere maid to broach.

“You’re not thinking clearly, Ranran. Why do you assume I’m doing this without permission? The Cult Leader is aware that I am here. I came under his direct orders.”

“What? Is that true?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Do you think a mere maid like me would forge the Cult Leader’s orders? I don’t have several lives to spare.”

Chwi-yeong’s eyes sparkled as she spoke cheerfully, as if she found the whole thing amusing. At her words, Ranran’s expression darkened dramatically. Yehwa, genuinely bewildered, looked back and forth between Ranran and Chwi-yeong.

`She came on the Cult Leader’s orders? Does that mean Cult Leader Ho Wan-pyeong personally gave the command? Is he trying to break the authority of the Thunder Palace while Cheonma is away?`

But considering what she knew of Ho Wan-pyeong’s character, it was a story she found hard to believe.

“…So, this day has finally come. I was hoping for a little more time.”

Ranran spoke with a heavy heart as her hand moved to her waist. Sensing something was wrong, Yehwa watched her sharply. Ranran looked back at Yehwa. Their eyes met in mid-air.

Just as Yehwa thought she saw a faint smile in those eyes, Ranran’s body flew like a butterfly and attacked her. Reacting instinctively, Yehwa threw the book she was holding and drew a whip-sword from her waist.

Whip-sword met whip-sword in the air. Like snakes encountering their own kind, the blades coiled around each other before breaking apart and dancing through the air as the two women switched places. A moment ago, they had been sisters, but now their blades struck mercilessly at each other’s vital points.

Their skills were evenly matched. They had often sparred together, so each knew the other’s weaknesses and shortcomings better than anyone. Though they exchanged deadly blows, it looked like a well-choreographed sword dance. With every move, each knew exactly where the other’s blade would strike.

“Foolish girl. So full of sentiment.”

Watching them, Chwi-yeong sighed and untied her sash. As she imbued the long silk ribbon with her internal energy, it took on a sharp aura. With a long cry, Chwi-yeong flung the sash at Yehwa. It shot forward like a living thing, striking at Yehwa’s abdomen.

Yehwa, who had been aiming for Ranran’s shoulder, was forced to twist her body to dodge the sudden attack. Her willow-like waist bent in mid-air, the shadow of her legs flickering beneath her skirt. Chwi-yeong recognized the footwork instantly as it moved through nine distinct positions.

“Hmph! The Nine Revolutions Phantom Step! So you finally show your true colors.”

A unique martial art, normally hidden, had been revealed in a moment of mortal danger. The Nine Revolutions Phantom Step. It was an exclusive art of the Emei Sect, a foundational technique taught only to its direct disciples. Having exposed her own identity through an unconscious use of her martial arts, Yehwa bit her lip in dismay.

“Don’t think you can escape! We weren't waiting because we didn't know your identity, but because we were waiting for the right time!” Ranran shouted as she attacked Yehwa with a sharp thrust. But Yehwa didn’t answer. She knew that now that her identity was revealed, she could not escape alive, no matter what she said.

“You idiot! She’s a spy! Don’t talk to her!”

Chwi-yeong, watching from the side, stomped her foot once and leaped into the fray. Her red sash, now rigid as a blade, shot towards a vital point. Though they were all women, the attack aimed ruthlessly for a fatal spot, and the horrified Yehwa used her whip-sword to strike it down, intending to slice through the thin fabric.

Unfortunately, her judgment was flawed. Chwi-yeong’s sash was a rare treasure woven from Celestial Silkworm silk, a special loan from the Demon King, who favored her.

Though it was not widely known, both Ranran and Chwi-yeong were nominal disciples of the Demon King and secret members of the Inner Guard Pavilion. They belonged to an intelligence unit separate from Po Yeong-ui’s Secret Council, serving directly under Ho Wan-pyeong. Despite spending so long with Ranran, Yehwa had never known.

**Clang!**

Though it was cloth against steel, the sound was like two swords clashing. The impact was as hard as metal, but the recoil of internal energy was far greater than striking simple steel. The wide sash had absorbed her entire force and sent it back all at once.

Unable to withstand the unexpectedly powerful shock and the reverberating energy, Yehwa coughed up a mouthful of blood. Seeing this, Ranran hesitated, unable to continue her attack.

Chwi-yeong, however, had no such reservations and charged forward without mercy. She used her sash like a rope, tangling Yehwa’s hands and feet. It was not merely rigid like a blade; it could bend in mid-air and wrap around a body like a coil.

Having never fought against such a bizarre weapon, Yehwa couldn’t recover from her initial disadvantage and was continuously pushed back. With no time to circulate her energy, her internal injuries worsened, and she could find no way to escape Chwi-yeong’s assault. When a composed Ranran finally rejoined the attack, her situation became even more dire.

Finally, Yehwa’s hands were bound by Chwi-yeong’s sash. As she fell from the air, body tied, Chwi-yeong kicked her without hesitation.

With her hands bound, Yehwa was sent sprawling. Captured, she had intended to bite her tongue before being tortured, but even that was not possible. Ranran rushed over and sealed her pressure points.

Her arms tied and her body stiff, Yehwa looked up at the two women with wide eyes. Ranran, looking down at her with a melancholy gaze, turned her head away. Chwi-yeong, re-tying the now-disheveled sash around her waist, shouted over her shoulder.

“Sohong! Inform the Strategist that we’ve captured the spy as planned. The pear blossom has been plucked, but the fruit was not picked.”

“Yes, Team Leader.”

Sohong, who had been watching the fierce battle, snapped a crisp reply and hurried out of the Thunder Palace. Chwi-yeong, having concealed the signs of battle by wrapping the Celestial Silkworm sash around her slim waist, roughly tapped the shoulder of Ranran, who was staring at a distant mountain.

“Don’t be so dramatic, you girl.”

***

Po Yeong-ui sat in the highest level of the Secret Council building, receiving the reports that were pouring in. The spy Yehwa in the Thunder Palace had been captured alive. Gwi Chan-saeng, who had been posing as the third steward of the Water Fields Pavilion, was killed while attempting to escape. One inner palace guard and two outer palace martial artists from the Red Tiger Pavilion were immediately thrown into the Mara Prison upon their arrest.

Five in total. They were all the spies the Orthodox Faction had managed to insert into the Demonic Cult over the past few decades.

It wasn't that he had been unaware of their existence. He had let them be, occasionally feeding them disinformation, knowing that if they weren't allowed spies, there was no telling what desperate measures they might take to get information.

If they hadn't joined forces with Gwak Hyo, Po Yeong-ui would never have bothered with the troublesome task of purging them. But they had crossed a line the Demonic Cult could not permit. They had been the first to break the unspoken rules that existed between the two sides.

“In other words, they were competent. Not only did they succeed in luring Master out of the Cult, but they also stole the Cult's Black Flower system without a trace.”

Po Yeong-ui pretended not to hear the commentary coming from across his desk. For the past few days, the man who had been nitpicking his every move had even shown the initiative to bring his own high-backed armchair into Po Yeong-ui's office.

For a man who usually couldn't care less about others' affairs, it was a shockingly bold move, but Po Yeong-ui did not welcome it. He already had a headache from the mountain of work to deal with, and having this grating presence hovering before his eyes made it impossible to concentrate. Suppressing a throbbing migraine, Po Yeong-ui furrowed his delicate brow.

“Is Master still at the Righteous Path Alliance’s headquarters?”

“Unless his schedule has changed, yes, he should be.”

“And his next destination is likely Zhaoxian?”

“I seem to recall we read the last letter together. You don't need to confirm; nothing has changed.”

There was no lie in his words. The letter from Cheonma had been read in the presence of all the martial brothers. No new letters had arrived since, and there was no new information. Thus, what Po Yeong-ui knew, Gwak Jin-mu also knew, and what Gwak Jin-mu didn't know, Po Yeong-ui didn't know either.

A few days ago, a letter had arrived from Cheonma, from whom they had lost contact. It hadn't come through the Demonic Cult's information network, but unexpectedly through a secret line of the Haomun.

Among the brothers, the one most pleased by the letter was Po Yeong-ui, who had been anxiously searching for Cheonma's whereabouts. Even before Gwak Jin-mu had brought the information that Gwak Hyo was skilled in disguise, he had already picked up the enemy's trail, but he couldn't act rashly without knowing Cheonma's location.

Thanks to the letter, Po Yeong-ui was able to resolve many issues at once. He overturned the compromised Black Flower system, cut off the secret lines under Gwak Hyo's influence, and purged the enemy's spies. These were all tasks he had been waiting for the right moment to perform, not tasks he was incapable of doing.

A sense of satisfaction washed over him now that he had handled all the postponed matters. Po Yeong-ui, who was naturally impatient and irritable, finally felt like he could breathe. If it weren't for Gwak Jin-mu, who had been glued to the desk needling him this entire time, he might have felt truly elated.

“You’re planning to send the Demon Shadow Corps to Zhaoxian, aren’t you?”

“Not just the Demon Shadow Corps; I plan to dispatch warriors from the inner palace as well. If this was a trap aimed at Master from the start, it won't be an easy foe. We must be thorough. There's always the possibility of the unexpected.”

Po Yeong-ui was convinced that the masterminds were the leaders of the Orthodox Faction. The people Gwak Hyo had used to spy on the cult's inner workings were Orthodox spies. They were using groups like the Wusheng Cult as a smokescreen, a mere bait to hide their true colors.

Those acting under the name of the Wusheng Cult were mostly a ragtag bunch. Even the so-called big shots were recruited outsiders, not core members. They tried to mask their nature with distinctive items like the Blood Eyes or the Geonyeja, but their amateurishness was still glaringly obvious.

Judging by their behavior, they were clearly motivated by promised rewards, not loyalty to a doctrine. Their actions were more akin to those of vagrant mercenaries than devout followers.

`On the other hand, the ones who attacked the Jade Qilin were highly trained martial artists. They didn't stop their attacks even while sacrificing their lives, and they didn't scream even as they died…?`

Cheonma had described them as 'tongueless cripples.' Considering his blunt nature, that was likely a direct description, not a mere figure of speech.

Loyal warriors who would willingly cut out their own tongues to protect their identities. It takes a long time and great effort to cultivate such warriors. Apart from the Demonic Cult, there was only one place where such high-level experts existed: the Nine Sects and Five Clans.

They had to be the foundational masters of the Orthodox Faction.

`That in itself is telling. The fact that they had to use their own sect’s masters means they have few experts at or above the Peak level among their recruits. To ambush a group containing a Transcendent master and Peak masters, the ambush party needed to consist of at least Peak-level warriors, but they didn't have such cards among their recruited forces.`

`But dozens of Peak masters are precious assets within any sect. Is this affair so valuable that they had to sacrifice them one-sidedly? Did they suffer so many losses just to deceive the Jade Qilin?`

Of course, if they were trying to fabricate a non-existent shadow organization, that level of commitment was necessary. And indeed, after the incident at Dabie Mountains, rumors of a shadow force aiming to conquer the world spread rapidly, shaking the Jianghu. If the attackers' skills hadn't been so formidable, the rumors wouldn't have spread so quickly.

What bothered Po Yeong-ui wasn't their goal, but their motive. The motive that would drive them to send dozens of their own masters to their deaths and plunge the Jianghu into chaos.

Ever since identifying them, Po Yeong-ui had agonized over this point, but he couldn't find a satisfactory answer.

`I just don't understand. What means did Gwak Hyo use to make the Righteous Path Alliance rush in like this? What is making them so desperate?`

What the Righteous Path Alliance was doing was far from normal. These people, who should have been obsessed with justification and righteousness, were unhesitatingly committing acts that even heretical sects would shun.

They kidnapped innocent children to create Geonyejas and recruited the Jianghu's most wanted criminals to form a phantom organization. Not only did they steal the Qilin Plaque to sow discord, but they also spread false rumors that cost countless lives.

Even if they feared the Demonic Cult's power, there should be a limit. Moreover, the Longzhong Pact existed between the Demonic Cult and the Central Plains, so they had no reason to be so anxious. As long as Cheonma lived, that promise would be kept. For decades to come. Perhaps even for more than half a century.

`To think the Longzhong Pact is a promised peace is our perspective, the perspective of the powerful. From the Righteous Path Alliance's point of view, it's nothing more than a formidable enemy biding its time. If a man-eating tiger lives on the mountain behind your village, can you rest easy just because it isn't attacking at this very moment? To make matters worse, Master even underwent rejuvenation, so their fear must have grown even greater.`

“Master reached a state where he could turn back time. Who knows how many more years he will live? They've already been crushed under Cheonma's name for more than a generation, and now you're telling them to endure for several more decades. It's only natural they can't take it anymore.”

As if reading Po Yeong-ui’s thoughts, Gwak Jin-mu offered his opinion.

Po Yeong-ui looked up at Gwak Jin-mu with a cool gaze. Gwak Jin-mu, slouched in his chair with a lazy flick of his foot, met his gaze. The smile that formed around his downturned eyes was almost coquettish, as if he were flirting.

“…What is it that you want from me?”

Unable to bear his meddling any longer, Po Yeong-ui asked with a deep sigh. He wasn’t ignorant of why the man was camping out in his office. But he was reluctant to entrust him with the task and had been playing dumb, but his opponent’s attitude made it clear that such a gentle approach wouldn't work.

“Why ask something so obvious? You already know what I want.”

Gwak Jin-mu said with a confident smile. His tone was as light as a child begging for candy, but Po Yeong-ui’s refusal was as sharp as a knife.

“Then you must also know the reason why I cannot permit it, Second Brother.”

“Don’t be so rigid, Junior Brother. You’re already agonizing over the selection anyway. Eldest Brother and you must protect the Cult, and the youngest is not skilled enough for the mission. When you think about it, I’m the only one among us who has the freedom to leave the Cult.”

“But you lack the qualifications, Second Brother.”

The words Po Yeong-ui had been trying to avoid finally slipped out. He hadn’t wanted to go this far, but the relentlessly persistent Gwak Jin-mu had finally forced his hand.

“Qualifications… So, it’s about bloodline, isn’t it?”

Gwak Jin-mu calmly brought up the topic that Po Yeong-ui had been implicitly avoiding.

The matter of Gwak Hyo was a sensitive subject for Gwak Jin-mu. Even with Cheonma's pardon, no one had forgotten the crime his family had committed. He was a disciple of Cheonma, but he was also the son of a traitor. That sin was a heavy shackle that had bound Gwak Jin-mu's ankles his entire life.

“I cannot say that it isn’t.”

“So you don’t trust me. You’re worried that I might side with my father now?”

“If the bond between martial brothers is a human bond, then the bond between father and son is a heavenly one. If you were in my position, Second Brother, what would you do? Could you grant permission so easily?”

“It is not only the father who is a heavenly bond. The mother is as well. Though we are blood, he is the murderer of my mother. I don’t think our relationship is one that could become affectionate now.”

Gwak Jin-mu’s persistence was unexpectedly tenacious. He would not back down, even going so far as to describe his own father as his sworn enemy. Po Yeong-ui watched him with a reluctant gaze.

He couldn't understand why a man who had lived his life so passively, like water mixed with water or wine with wine, would suddenly change his attitude in this situation. Why was he willingly walking into a position that would inevitably draw suspicion, when his questionable background already made him a subject of doubt?

“You cannot persuade me with just a few words like that. The bonds between people are not so easily settled.”

“I know well that you don’t trust people easily, Junior Brother. If you really can’t trust me, then place a restriction on me. Feed me a Gu worm, or feed me poison. I will gladly take it.”

“Second Brother, you go too far!”

“I’m not just saying that, Junior Brother. I am serious.”

“I simply cannot understand. Why are you going this far? My opposition to this is not only because I don't trust you, but also because I do not wish to do anything that would harm you. Even a common man avoids tying his shoes in a melon patch. Why do you seek out such danger?”

The very purpose of the escort team Po Yeong-ui was sending was to protect Cheonma from the threat of Gwak Hyo. To entrust the leadership of such a team to Gwak Hyo's son, Gwak Jin-mu, was, by any common-sense measure, absurd.

With Gwak Jin-mu's status, it would be difficult to convince the warriors, let alone lead them. If he made even a small mistake during the mission, the repercussions could be unmanageable. Even if it were an unintentional mistake, he couldn't expect the warriors of the escort team to readily understand.

For his own sake, and for the sake of the escort team, it was the worst possible choice.

“I’m not seeking danger, Junior Brother.”

As Po Yeong-ui, who rarely got excited, showed his true emotions, the smile vanished from Jin-mu’s face. Without the mask-like smile, his face was surprisingly cold.

“I have simply stopped running. I intend to finally confront the shadow that has been chasing me for nearly half my life.”

He and Po Yeong-ui were, by no stretch of the imagination, on good terms. Their complicated pasts meant they could never be close. But even so, they maintained a minimum line they would not cross for each other’s sake.

Jin-mu knew well that he was the one crossing that line first. But no matter what, he could not yield on this matter.

“Second Brother.”

“I have something to collect from that man. I assure you, my craving for it is no less than yours or Master’s. From the moment he butchered my mother before my very eyes, he was no father to me. If you want to place a restriction, do it. If surveillance is needed, I will gladly accept it.”

Gwak Jin-mu spoke with a resolute tone that left no room for compromise. If Po Yeong-ui refused to the end, he seemed ready to storm out of the Cult on his own.

Po Yeong-ui pressed his throbbing temple with one hand and watched him. His second brother was serious. Though his words made it seem like he was asking for a decision, in reality, it was more of an announcement that he was going.

“…This is not a decision I can make alone.”

Realizing Gwak Jin-mu would not listen to anything he said, he took a step back. He understood his brother’s intentions, but Po Yeong-ui had his own position to consider. Unlike Gwak Jin-mu, who was free of obligations, he had to consider many factors even when making small decisions.

“You must also know that this selection will inevitably be controversial. I cannot handle such a matter on my own authority. For now, I will convey your intentions to the Cult Leader. A definite answer will only be possible after I have asked for his opinion.”

Unable to give a firm answer immediately, he deferred his response. But that seemed to be enough to satisfy Gwak Jin-mu, who nodded.

“Of course, I know this is not a matter to be decided lightly. And given the nature of this task, Eldest Brother’s approval will be necessary.”

There was a subtle barb in his words, and Po Yeong-ui twisted his lips into a bitter smile. Having finished the business he had been waiting for, Gwak Jin-mu rose from his seat. He stood up from the chair that had seemed a part of him, straightened his clothes, and bid farewell in a nonchalant tone.

“It looks like you still have a lot of work left, so I won’t bother you any longer. Carry on.”

Po Yeong-ui watched Gwak Jin-mu’s back as he left, looking as relieved as if he had set down a heavy burden. He might feel at ease now that he'd had his say, but for Po Yeong-ui, who had just inherited his burden, it was more than a headache; it was a gut-wrenching problem.

He shook his head and turned his gaze back to the mountain of documents. One body, but a mountain of work to do. He was so buried, he didn't know where to start.

***

Long ago, in the state of Yue, there was a beauty named Xi Shi.

She was the daughter of a woodcutter, but she was born a peerless beauty. As she grew, her fame spread throughout the land, and it was said that people flocked to her mountain village in such droves that it formed a human sea. According to one story, they collected a single coin from every person who came to see her, and the coins piled up like a mountain. It is said that the minister Fan Li used that money to raise an army, which gives a hint as to how extraordinary her beauty was.

Countless tales are told of her beauty. It is said that fish, seeing her beauty, were so mesmerized that they forgot to swim and sank, giving rise to the idiom “chen yu” (sinking fish). She suffered from a heart ailment and often frowned, and it is said that all the women in the country began to frown in imitation of her, leading to the saying “Xizi peng xin” (Xi Shi clutching her heart).

Whether the old stories were exaggerated or Xi Shi was truly that exceptional, Cheonma had never in his life seen a beauty whose frown was also lovely. He had traveled the world as if it were his home and met many famous beauties, but he had never seen one whose frown was itself beautiful. And that included both men and women. No matter how stunning the beauty, a frown was still just a frown.

If one were to rank Munpyeong’s looks, he would be at the very bottom. Apart from having his eyes, nose, and mouth in the right places, there was nothing worth giving points for. His skin was rough and completely untended. His bone structure was decent, but he had lost so much weight recently that his figure was unappealing, and his pale, hollowed cheeks showed no signs of filling out.

Some people’s frowns were so lovely that others would imitate them, but this man wasn’t even handsome when he smiled broadly. And yet, he walked around with a perpetual scowl, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Cheonma couldn't understand his nerve.

`This one shows his surly nature even in his sleep. What is he dreaming about to be frowning so hard?`

Lying beside the sleeping Munpyeong, idly studying his face, Cheonma reached out a finger and smoothed the deep furrow between his brows.

But the wrinkle straightened only for the moment his finger was there. As soon as he pulled his hand away, the frown returned. He was putting so much effort into whatever he was doing in his dream that his sleeping face looked strained. He must be having a terrible nightmare.

`Tsk. At this rate, there was no point in letting him sleep peacefully.`

Cheonma clicked his tongue. Munpyeong looked even more exhausted in his sleep than when he was awake. It was so obvious his stamina had bottomed out that he had suppressed his own desires and let the man sleep alone, but this one wasn’t getting his money’s worth.

`A martial artist having nightmares. I’ve never seen the like.`

He knew that a serious injury would drain one’s stamina, but he hadn’t expected a master of the internal arts to have his qi become so depleted. While finding the situation absurd, he couldn't just watch the pained expression on the man’s face.

`Should I have some restorative medicine made for him? If I’d known, I would have had that old hag check his pulse one more time before we left.`

He felt a belated regret as he took Munpyeong’s pulse. Sure enough, it was rough and rapid, not at all like that of a sleeping person.

Cheonma held Munpyeong’s wrist and infused his own internal energy into him. Munpyeong’s unstable energy, feeling Cheonma’s qi, slowly began to stabilize.

Cheonma took care not to wake him, slowly circulating the energy. Gradually, the frown on Munpyeong’s brow began to smooth out. The grimace that had twisted his features, as if he were witnessing something horrible, relaxed, and his rough, panting breaths lengthened into a slow, deep rhythm.

Once, twice, three times. After three slow, gentle circulations, Munpyeong fell into a deep sleep. Only then did Cheonma carefully withdraw his energy and wipe the beads of cold sweat from the man’s forehead with the edge of his sleeve.

“…Still ugly. When is this one ever going to get pretty?”

Cheonma murmured to himself as he gazed at the peacefully sleeping face. Even without the frown, there was nothing pretty about it. If he were a beauty whose frown was also lovely, at least he wouldn't feel so wronged. But this one had no redeeming features, and yet he held one’s gaze and wouldn’t let go.

Munpyeong seemed easy to handle on the surface, but he was surprisingly high-maintenance. You thought he was following you, but you’d turn around to find he’d vanished, so you couldn’t take your eyes off him for a moment.

An endlessly troublesome, complicated being. But despite that, he had no desire to let him go.

At first, Cheonma had thought he had captured Munpyeong. But lately, that thought had begun to change. Looking at how things were going, it seemed that it wasn't he who had possessed Munpyeong, but Munpyeong who had possessed him.

He was the one who was more attached, the one who was restless with the need to care for the other. The one who had truly possessed the other was not him, but Munpyeong.

In his life of over eighty years, no one had ever accomplished such a feat. There had been women who tried to buy his love with their children as bait, and kings who had begged to lay their kingdoms at his feet. There had been no shortage of those who swore they would rather die than not be his, but Cheonma’s heart had never once wavered.

He himself had never imagined that such a steadfast heart would be shaken by the likes of Munpyeong. But like flowing water, his heart had already slipped from his grasp. It was already with Munpyeong, and Cheonma had no way to fix the situation.

***

`What is this person doing here?`

Munpyeong lay perfectly still, rolling his eyes back and forth, afraid he might wake the other man. Last night, he had definitely gone to bed alone, but when he woke up, there was someone lying next to him.

There were four legs tangled together as if they were one. Two were his, but whose were the other two? Munpyeong looked at the man beside him, his thoughts drifting to a poor man from an old legend who was famous for his magnanimity even after being cuckolded.

The intruder who had slipped into his bed without permission was none other than Cheonma. For whatever reason, he had shed his disguise and revealed his true form, sleeping so soundly he didn’t even realize Munpyeong was awake. Munpyeong was so dumbfounded he was at a loss for words.

`What is he doing?`

And he wasn’t even sleeping gracefully. His legs were wrapped around Munpyeong’s, and one of his arms was draped over Munpyeong’s body. Having undergone rejuvenation, perhaps his mental age had regressed as well, for he was sleeping in the posture of a child.

This was in no way how an eighty-year-old man should sleep. Munpyeong felt a sharp pain in his pinned left shoulder and subtly winced.

`Why is he sleeping here instead of in his own bed? His room is much nicer than mine.`

It was true. Even though they were in the same inn, the class of their rooms was different. Munpyeong’s room was decent enough, but Cheonma’s room, as the main and honored guest, was two or three times more lavishly decorated. The bed was made of fragrant Zixiang wood, and the view from the window was far superior. Even the maid assigned to his room was the prettiest. And yet this man left that fine room to frequently cross over to Munpyeong’s and bother him.

“Please wake up. The sun is already rising.”

He had woken up feeling refreshed for a change, but an uninvited guest had ruined his morning. Just my luck, Munpyeong lamented to himself as he gently tried to wake the sleeping Heavenly Demon.

As he lightly shook his shoulder, Cheonma, who had been sleeping on his stomach, shot his eyes open. His dark, clear eyes were instantly alert and fixed on Munpyeong.

“Mm. You’re awake already?”

Cheonma, still lying face down, turned his head slightly to ask. Their shared pillow brought their eyes to the same level. His eyes were exceptionally clear, like a child’s, with no trace of cloudiness in the whites.

Munpyeong’s face was reflected in the black, pearl-like pupils. The irises were as clear as the whites, and his reflection was as sharp as if he were looking into a bronze mirror.

Feeling strangely self-conscious at the sight of his own image in another’s eyes, Munpyeong looked away and tried to sit up. But Cheonma used the hand that had been resting on his chest to pull him back down.

“What are you doing, so early in the morning?” Munpyeong asked, flustered, as he found himself lying back down, face-to-face with Cheonma. Cheonma gave a slight smile. It was different from the seductive smile he showed in bed; this one had a hint of playfulness.

“It’s because it’s morning that I’m doing this. We have nothing to do, and no one’s going to eat you if we lounge around a bit longer. You don’t seem to have been sleeping well lately, so lie down a little longer.”

A man your age has no business acting cute, he thought, but the man’s charm was so captivating that he found his eyes drawn to him against his will. Munpyeong stared blankly at Cheonma’s face for a moment before belatedly looking away with a start. But his ears were already burning, and he couldn’t hide his embarrassment.

“What if the maids come in? Are you going to murder the innocent children to silence them?”

He argued, pointedly looking elsewhere. Cheonma patted his chest soothingly and murmured playfully.

“That’s what the art of hypnosis is for.”

“…You even know hypnosis?”

“I have a penchant for miscellaneous skills. I know how to do most of them.”

Cheonma replied with a shrug. He said it as if it were nothing, but Munpyeong, listening, was stunned.

Miscellaneous skills? Was he referring to things like his art of disguise? That couldn't be. If his hypnosis was on the same level as his disguise, it wasn’t a mere skill; it was a master art.

“Still, you shouldn’t use something like hypnosis on people so freely. What if there are side effects later?”

“There’s no need to worry about that. A person’s mind is surprisingly fragile. Erasing a small memory or two is possible with just a little suggestion. I can show you if you’re curious. Want to see?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Munpyeong flatly refused Cheonma, who was nonchalantly offering a demonstration. Cheonma was not one for jokes. If he said he wanted to see, the man might actually grab someone and demonstrate hypnosis on them. Having no intention of subjecting anyone to such an ordeal, Munpyeong shook his head to emphasize his refusal.

“It’s because you worry about such useless things that your energy is depleted. Stop struggling over nothing and lie still. If you’re really that concerned, I’ll let you know if I sense anyone approaching.”

Cheonma’s hand came up and pressed against Munpyeong’s forehead. He wasn’t using much force, but he was subtly disrupting his balance, making it impossible to sit up. Munpyeong had no choice but to do as he was told and lie back down.

With nothing to do, he just fiddled with his fingers and stared at the ceiling. Annoyingly, Cheonma stayed right beside him. And he wasn't just lying there; he was twirling a lock of Munpyeong’s hair around his finger in a trivial game.

“Why is your hair like this? It’s as stiff as a pig’s bristle.”

After some time, Cheonma, still playing with his hair, suddenly started to pick a fight. Did he expect a grown man’s hair to be like silk? Munpyeong looked at him, bewildered by the pointless complaint.

“All men’s hair is like this. It’s not like we’re women who care for it with oils and such.”

“This isn’t just a matter of not being cared for. It’s needlessly coarse and rough, with no pleasant feel when I wrap it around my hand.”

So what? Munpyeong didn’t understand why Cheonma was saying this to him. If he missed a long-haired beauty so much, he should just find a male concubine. If he went to a brothel, he would find an assortment of pretty boys, polished and smooth from head to toe. He didn’t know why he was being picked on.

“And you have a white hair, too? You’re not even forty and you already have white hair. At this rate, you’ll have wrinkles on your forehead in a few years.”

“If I can’t defy time like you, Cult Leader, then there’s nothing to be done. Isn’t that how people age? It’s the natural way, so I must follow it.”

When he first met Cheonma, Munpyeong was thirty-three. The new year had already passed, so he was now thirty-four. It was an age where it wouldn’t be strange for signs of aging to appear. In fact, it was Cheonma, who looked like a man in his twenties despite being over eighty, who was shameless, not Munpyeong. A person whose time hadn’t just stopped but was going backward was unique in all the world.

“You’re young, but you have no spirit, no ambition. Doesn’t it occur to you that you should transform your body and never grow old?”

Cheonma asked, still toying with his hair. Despite his words—calling him ugly, comparing his hair to a pig’s bristle—his touch was exceptionally gentle.

“What skill do I have to transform my body? That’s a distant dream.”

“Didn’t I teach you a good method? All you have to do is work hard at it.”

At Cheonma’s nonchalant suggestion, Munpyeong’s face went pale. No way. He wants me to do that again? The memory of that ordeal, which was no different from sexual torture, still remained a source of terror for him.

“…I’m sorry, but that… I’m no parasite, so it would be embarrassing to repeatedly take the Cult Leader’s internal energy.”

Their lovemaking was already intense enough, but to experience it with his senses heightened by the circulation of qi had been an ordeal Munpyeong had barely survived. No matter how good the internal energy was, he had no desire to go through that again.

Munpyeong barely restrained himself from shaking his head and politely declined Cheonma’s offer.

“No need to refuse. Does the sea notice when a single mouthful of water is taken? No matter how much you take, it won’t diminish, so take as much as you want.”

Whether he knew Munpyeong’s feelings or not, Cheonma’s suggestion was quite persistent. And with it, the hand stroking his hair began to grow more suggestive.

Cheonma’s long, delicate fingers caressed the scalp at his hairline. With a languid touch that could induce sleep, he twirled the ends of his hair, then gently rubbed the sensitive skin at his hairline, where fine hairs grew, stimulating him.

If it had been an overtly sexual advance, he could have pushed him away, but the man was subtly arousing his senses while pretending to touch him idly, making it difficult to protest seriously.

A ticklish shiver ran along his hairline to the crown of his head. The back of his neck tingled as if someone were pulling it. Goosebumps rose on his skin. His body was responding to Cheonma’s stimulation.

Munpyeong couldn't bear it any longer and turned to look at him. He was about to open his mouth to say "stop," but warm lips descended and silenced him.

A warm tongue parted his lips and swept across the roof of his mouth. It was a gentle kiss that felt more like a caress than a plunder. The touch of the lips on his was unbelievably soft. They were moist and smooth like wet silk. The kiss, which sucked gently and licked cautiously, was filled with a tenderness one would share only with a lover.

“…I’d like to kiss you more, but we don’t have the time. Someone is coming.”

Stunned by the unexpected gentleness, Munpyeong hadn’t even managed to refuse. He had simply stared blankly, mouth open, letting the other man kiss him as he pleased. He only came to his senses after Cheonma regretfully pulled away. Cheonma kissed the corner of his dazed, blinking eye and rose from the bed.

**Crack. Creak. Pop-pop-pop.**

As Cheonma stepped off the bed, a strange series of sounds filled the air. Even from behind, Munpyeong could tell he was using the Bone Shrinking Art again.

His impressive height and build transformed into a more slender frame. His powerful shoulders became sleek, and the muscles in his arms and legs grew leaner.

Cheonma retied his now-loose silk robes and walked to the table. As soon as he sat down, a cough was heard from outside the door.

“Brother Gwak, Hero Yun, are you in there? It’s Baek Woo-gyeong.”

The person who had come to see them so early in the morning was none other than Baek Woo-gyeong. Cheonma, feigning ignorance of Munpyeong scrambling to fix his disheveled clothes, answered.

“Yes. I am here. Please come in.”

Cheonma spoke as if he were the owner of the room, making Munpyeong feel an unnecessary sense of urgency. He was caught in the middle of welcoming a guest while wearing nothing but his sleep-trousers.

`What is he doing, trying to cause some strange misunderstanding? If a rumor started that the Flower Hero slept with men, Yun Seung-hyo would be the one to suffer for it!`

“I’m coming in.”

The door opened, and Baek Woo-gyeong entered. Munpyeong, who had just managed to pull on his trousers and was looking for a top, ended up greeting the guest half-dressed.

“Ah, good morning, Hero Baek.”

As Munpyeong gave an awkward greeting, Baek Woo-gyeong looked at him with a curious expression. Thinking that an excuse would only make the situation more awkward, Munpyeong just smiled and inwardly cursed Cheonma as he finished dressing.

“What brings you here so early in the morning? For Hero Baek himself to come all this way.”

Cheonma continued to act as the host, gesturing for Baek Woo-gyeong to take the seat opposite him. Baek Woo-gyeong did not refuse and sat down, his expression serious as he began to speak.

“I know this is a breach of etiquette, but the matter is too urgent to delay. I ask for your understanding.”

“We are not strangers. It’s natural to do so when there is an urgent matter. Please don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Hero Yun.”

“Enough with the pleasantries. Just tell us what’s wrong. To seek us out so urgently, something serious must have happened.”

“It has. It is a matter that cannot be delayed for even a moment.”

Munpyeong had never seen Baek Woo-gyeong in such a hurry. Cheonma also seemed to sense the gravity of his mood, and the leisurely expression on his face grew tense.

“As you know, the Qilin Plaque I was chasing disappeared in Shaanxi. At the time, I was more the pursued than the pursuer, so even though I found the enemy’s trail, I could not follow them to the end. Hundreds of masters, coveting the plaque, were watching my every move, and it was clear that even if I succeeded, a bloodbath would ensue.”

“I am aware of that. I believe you made the right choice.”

“But now, it seems the whereabouts of the plaque we lost then have been discovered. It was first spotted in Yangyuan, but the last word is that it was in Yixian. Judging by its direction of movement, it seems to be heading towards Zhaoxian.”

Yangyuan was on the border of Shaanxi and Hebei provinces, and Yixian was a city just south of Beijing. As he said, they were heading towards Zhaoxian. Cheonma’s expression hardened, and he sat up straight, looking at Baek Woo-gyeong. A fiery glint flickered in his blue eyes.

“Tell me in more detail. What happened?”

According to Baek Woo-gyeong, the situation was this:

Initially, the Qilin Plaque was held by a first-rate master of the Jianghu known as the Vicious Poison Sect Master, Zhong Chuangluo. He was a notorious unorthodox master in the Shaanxi region, and it was unknown how he had obtained the plaque. But the rumor of his possession spread like wildfire, and martial artists pursued him to seize the treasure.

A mere first-rate master could not protect the plaque for long. After a fierce chase, the plaque fell into the hands of the Northern Mountain Sect, the leading orthodox power in Yangyuan. The ambitious sect master, Fu Yaoming, had led all his disciples in the chase and finally succeeded. However, his possession of the plaque lasted less than two days. The Northern Mountain Sect, which had been on the rise with a sect master who had reached the Peak level, was brutally burned down by an attack from masked figures, and was completely annihilated, leaving no survivors.

The one who destroyed the Northern Mountain Sect and took the plaque was a reclusive master from a previous generation known as the Lingering Sun Demon Cloud. As his title suggested, he was a man of outstanding martial skill and renowned for his cruelty, but he was poisoned and killed less than a day later, and the plaque was stolen from him.

It had been less than five days since the plaque appeared, but hundreds had already died because of it. The victims were not just the masters who participated in the struggle. The damage to innocent commoners and smaller sects who were unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire was also severe.

For martial artists, who were supposed to maintain a respectful distance from the authorities, to fight without restraint so close to Beijing, was a testament to how crazed the pursuers of the plaque had become.

“We can no longer stand by and watch. People are dying over a mere worldly object.”

Even martial artists who were detached from rare treasures and strange jewels were prone to losing their reason when a divine art was involved. In a similar bloodbath in the past, hundreds, even thousands of lives had been sacrificed.

“Right now, the Alliance Leader and the Strategist are organizing a pursuit team to deal with the Hebei Bloodbath. If we don’t retrieve the Qilin Plaque as soon as possible, more innocent lives will be lost. I cannot say I am without responsibility in this, so I have volunteered for the pursuit team.

That is why I came to see you so early this morning, Hero Yun. We are in desperate need of a master’s help right now. Without overwhelming martial power, it will be impossible to suppress the martial artists who are blinded by treasure.”

In other words, he was asking Yun Seung-hyo—or rather, Cheonma—to join the Righteous Path Alliance’s pursuit team. Munpyeong, knowing that Cheonma had intended to go that way from the start, expected him to agree immediately. But Cheonma frowned as if troubled, hesitated, and then spoke with difficulty.

“I would like to help if I could. But it seems impossible for me to jump in right away. As you know, Hero Baek, we lost the child who was traveling with us yesterday. Having brought that child this far, it is my responsibility to see her returned safely, and I have failed in that duty. I don't know what she might be going through right now. Please understand that I cannot turn a blind eye to a bond I have already formed.”

The excuse Cheonma used was the well-being of Ja-ok, the very child he himself had hidden. Baek Woo-gyeong, knowing nothing, looked crestfallen. Whether it was one life or many, both matters involved a human life. A righteous hero of the Orthodox Faction could not tell him to abandon an innocent child, so he hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“I, too, cannot stop worrying about that child. To be kidnapped from within the Righteous Path Alliance is a matter we cannot take lightly.”

“I know. Thank you for your concern.”

Baek Woo-gyeong bit his lip anxiously and looked at Cheonma.

“But Hero Yun, if I may be so bold, our need for your help is no less than that child’s need for it. There are many warriors stationed at the Righteous Path Alliance, but not all of them can leave their posts. Moreover, while there are many ordinary warriors here, the number of masters is few. As it is, even if we form a pursuit team, it is clear we will not be able to resolve the matter. Please do not think me shameless, but consider the difficulty of the situation. I beg you.”

“Then what about the lost child?”

“I will make a special request to the Strategist. I will ask him not to stop the search until the child is found. Finding a child is a task that ordinary warriors can handle. In fact, many ordinary warriors may be better than one or two masters.”

“…”

Hearing Baek Woo-gyeong’s plea, Cheonma pretended to ponder it. It was such a flawless performance that anyone who didn't know the situation would have been completely fooled. Munpyeong nervously watched the two of them, gauging the situation.

`Is he really going to give up on the Qilin Plaque? No, that can’t be right.`

Perhaps he intended to go, but to go alone. Moving with the Righteous Path Alliance’s pursuit team would restrict his actions in many ways.

“If the Righteous Path Alliance is willing to go that far, then very well. I will join the pursuit team.”

While Munpyeong was busy with his own calculations, Cheonma gave his consent to Baek Woo-gyeong’s request.

`I thought he was just putting it off because he had other plans, but was he just playing hard to get? Then again, it would be strange for a man known as a hero to not care about a child going missing.`

As expected of Cheonma, he was meticulous. He never overlooked even the smallest detail.

“I know I have made a difficult request. Thank you for agreeing.”

“If you need many people, I will bring the Broken-Faced Wanderer and this person with me. The Broken-Faced Wanderer is a master on par with a Transcendent, and this person has the ability to protect himself.”

Cheonma, who ‘never overlooked a small detail,’ did not forget to include Munpyeong. Baek Woo-gyeong looked at Munpyeong and nodded as if in understanding. Though it seemed like a casual gesture, Munpyeong felt a subtle unease and awkwardly turned his head away.

`He doesn't know anything, does he?`

Having been seen in a compromising situation, Munpyeong felt a needless sense of apprehension. He was a sharp man, seemingly as perceptive as Cheonma. What if he had sensed something about their relationship?

Judging by his character, he didn't seem like the type to gossip, but he still disliked the idea. The very thought that someone else knew was a burden.

`Anyway, that person is the problem. What is there to be proud of, that he has to make it so obvious?`

When you thought about it, what fault did Baek Woo-gyeong have? The problem was Cheonma, whose life’s pleasure seemed to be tormenting others.

Munpyeong grumbled to himself, swallowing his resentment towards Cheonma. If he was going to be kind, why couldn’t he be kind to the end? Why did he have to be so contrary all the time? It left the person on the receiving end completely unsure of how to react.

***

Due to the urgency of the situation, the pursuit team was formed quickly.

The leader of the team was Baek Woo-gyeong. As the original owner of the Qilin Plaque and having strongly desired the role himself, he was given full command of the team, despite his internal injuries not having fully healed.

The team was comprised of members from the Dragon-Tiger Brigade. The Dragon-Tiger Brigade was an elite group formed exclusively of masters from the Nine Sects and Five Clans of the Righteous Path Alliance. Not only were their individual combat skills outstanding, but they had also practiced high-level coordinated formations for years, making them arguably the best unit for group combat.

The members of the Azure Blood Corps insisted on following their leader, but the losses at Dabie Mountains had been too great, so Baek Woo-gyeong did not permit them to join. The only exception was the Peak master Jo Se-hwa; considering he was Baek Woo-gyeong's martial brother and sworn brother, his inclusion was a matter of course.

`So, that’s two Transcendent masters, five Peak masters, and fifty-one first-rate masters. This force could wipe out a medium-sized sect overnight.`

Looking at the impressive composition of the pursuit team, Munpyeong inwardly clicked his tongue.

The structure of the Jianghu could be drawn as a steep triangle. While thousands of second- and third-rate masters made up the majority, first-rate masters numbered less than a thousand, and Peak masters less than a few hundred. Transcendent masters were even rarer, with no more than a few dozen in the entire world. Masters at the Enlightenment level could be counted on one's fingers among all factions, and among them, the only one to have reached the Profound Realm was Cheonma himself.

That was how rare a Transcendent master was. In a medium-sized sect, even the leader would struggle to surpass the Peak level, and even in the Nine Sects, a Transcendent master was treated as a representative master of the sect. Figures known as the Five Great Arhats or the Plum Blossom Sword Hands were all Transcendent masters.

To have not one, but two such figures in the pursuit team meant they were virtually invincible, unless they were met by a group of representative masters from the major sects or a master at the Enlightenment level. The composition of the team alone was enough to show how seriously the Righteous Path Alliance was taking this.

“We will be riding without rest from now on. Will you be able to keep up?”

Baek Woo-gyeong, dressed in the simple blue robes of the Azure Blood Corps with a blue hero’s band tied around his white forehead, turned to Munpyeong and asked. He was likely worried about his injuries, but Munpyeong smiled as if it were nothing and replied.

“I’m not the one running, the horse is. Don’t worry, Hero Baek.”

The horse he was riding was, at a glance, a magnificent Dayuan horse. It had been specially procured by the Righteous Path Alliance for their long journey, and all the members of the pursuit team had received one.

“Even if you find it strenuous, you must not slow down. However, we will avoid camping outdoors, so please bear with us.”

Still looking worried, Baek Woo-gyeong repeated his warning before moving to the front of the group. Munpyeong gave a small smile and took the reins.

`Don’t worry. Even if you try to leave me behind, I have to follow. If I’m left alone, I’ll surely end up as tiger food.`

Still unable to forget his encounter with the Wusheng Cult, Munpyeong had no intention of falling behind, even without the warning. He had to keep up, even if it killed him. If he fell behind and was caught by the Wusheng Cult, he wouldn’t have a peaceful death.

“Oh? Aren’t you going to the front?”

After Baek Woo-gyeong left, new figures took his place. The Broken-Faced Wanderer on a jet-black horse, the color of his own robes, and Hyukryeon Sang on a pure white horse without a single dark hair.

The two figures, a stark contrast as if deliberately arranged, were a remarkable sight. If they went out into the Jianghu like this, they might earn a title like the Black and White Duo.

“Hero Baek will take the lead, and I will take the rear. There is no guarantee that enemy attacks will only come from the front, so we must distribute our forces evenly.”

Perhaps because the Broken-Faced Wanderer was present, Cheonma spoke in stilted, formal language. It was the distinctive tone of Yun Seung-hyo, which Munpyeong hadn’t heard in a while.

“Ah, is that so?”

“I will ride beside you, so you can rest assured. I will not leave you behind.”

Cheonma spoke with a meaningful tone and gave a slight smile. Beneath the ever-present veil, his beautiful blue eyes narrowed into thin crescents.

Nothing good ever came of hearing him say something like that. Munpyeong, unable to hide his anxiety, glanced nervously at Cheonma. He had no idea what he was planning this time.

“We will depart now. We must reach Xiaogan by this evening, so we will ride without rest.”

From the front, Baek Woo-gyeong’s voice, amplified with internal energy, rang out. The members of the Dragon-Tiger Brigade responded with a loud roar.

“As you command!”

The great gates of the Righteous Path Alliance opened, and over fifty horses poured out at a rapid pace. Warriors had been sent ahead to clear the main road, so they rode without obstruction.

Munpyeong began to ride along with them. His back hadn't fully healed, but he wasn't so weak that he couldn't keep up with a journey like this. Hadn't he once marched hundreds of miles on foot? With a good horse and someone to crack the whip beside him, a march like this was nothing.

However, contrary to his initial confidence, riding all day was not an easy task. He had undertaken even more arduous journeys with Yun Seung-hyo—no, Cheonma—but that was when he had been in good health. Now, his stamina was greatly diminished.

Before half the day had passed, the strength in his waist gave out. His inner thighs, rubbed raw from the constant friction, throbbed with a stinging pain. Though he was circulating his internal energy, it was a struggle to endure.

“Are you finding it difficult?”

Cheonma, who had been silent due to the thick dust, asked Munpyeong. If he said yes, there was no telling what Cheonma might do, so Munpyeong kept his mouth shut and just shook his head.

“If it is difficult, tell me. I will help you.”

How he would help while they were each on their own horses was a mystery, but Cheonma’s tone was full of confidence.

*"This isn't an empty offer. If it’s hard, say so. Don’t push yourself and cause trouble for others by getting hurt."*

When Munpyeong continued to endure, Cheonma sent him a telepathic message. Listening to him, it almost sounded as if he were genuinely worried.

Lately, he had been acting so affectionately, it was confusing. It could make a person misunderstand. Munpyeong gave a wry smile, conveying his refusal, and insisted he was fine, declining the offer.

Since Munpyeong had refused twice, Cheonma didn't press him further. Having made his choice, Munpyeong stubbornly endured the remaining half of the day.

As a result, by the time they reached Xiaogan, Munpyeong was completely exhausted. His back, which had only been aching at first, began to rebel in the evening. It wasn't just the burned area; his muscles and joints ached as well. It was an immense pain, as if every vertebra in his spine were breaking.

The pain was so intense he couldn't fully straighten his back, and when he dismounted, he lost his footing and almost tumbled to the ground. He was saved from an undignified fall only because Cheonma, who had been watching from the side, quickly caught him. Almost completely supported in Cheonma's arms, Munpyeong couldn't even groan, his face pale with shock.

“This damn stubbornness.”

From a great distance, he heard someone grinding their teeth. But Munpyeong was in no state to pay attention to such trivial things. His back hurt so much he wondered if he would be a hunchback forever, and he could do nothing but pant and endure the pain.

Cheonma wrapped an arm around Munpyeong's shoulders and headed for the inn. Baek Woo-gyeong, who had been haggling with the innkeeper to secure lodging for the group, turned his head and looked at them.

“What’s wrong?”

“This man’s condition is not good. I need to take a look at him. Please ask the waiter to bring some hot water to my room.”

“Oh dear… Of course. I will have it prepared right away.”

Looking at Munpyeong, who could barely walk, Baek Woo-gyeong nodded in response and hurried away.

Cheonma helped Munpyeong up to the second floor. On the way, he performed a pressure point massage on his back, but it seemed to have little effect.

A large tub and hot water were quickly prepared. Baek Woo-gyeong must have slipped the innkeeper a generous tip, because the waiter’s attitude was exceptionally courteous, even as he carried the water up to the second floor.

Cheonma dismissed the waiter and began to undress Munpyeong. As he slowly lowered him into the hot water, starting with his legs, Munpyeong let out a pained sound.

“You foolish thing. Is it your hobby to seek out suffering?”

Cheonma mercilessly pushed Munpyeong's entire body into the hot water. He was submerged up to his chin. As his whole body soaked in the hot water, his muscles, which had been tense with pain, finally began to relax.

Munpyeong gripped the edge of the tub and let out a low groan. He still couldn't straighten his back, but the pain had lessened considerably. The burn on his back, sensitive to heat, was flushing red, but he was in too much pain to even notice.

Cheonma undressed and shed his disguise. It had become a habit for him to reveal his true form whenever they were alone, so he did so without hesitation. He securely locked the door, closed the window, and spread a wide barrier of qi, ensuring he would sense if anyone approached.

“I’m going to give you a pressure point massage, so show me your back. Bow your head and lean forward.”

Cheonma said as he stepped into the tub himself. With him also in the already narrow tub, water overflowed onto the floor. The offer of a massage was so welcome that Munpyeong didn't complain once and shifted his position.

Munpyeong brought his hands forward to grip the edge of the tub, bowed his head, and arched his back. Cheonma spread his legs, positioned Munpyeong between them, and began to massage his back. His fingers, which knew the pressure points precisely, kneaded the stiff muscles and twisted meridians with firm pressure.

Each time his hands pressed down, a sharp pain shot through him. But it wasn't the terrible agony from before; it was a relieving pain, as if something were being released.

“Ah… Aahhh…”

Moans that could easily be mistaken for sounds of passion escaped Munpyeong’s lips. He was so embarrassed by the sound that he tried to keep his mouth shut, but his resolve crumbled every time Cheonma’s hands touched him.

Cheonma massaged his entire back, following the line of his spine. It wasn't a simple massage; he was infusing internal energy into his fingers and striking pressure points at the same time, making his touch incredibly effective.

In less than a quarter of an hour, his entire back felt warm. The hard muscles softened, and the pain in the sore areas vanished. From just below his nape to the base of his spine, his entire back felt refreshed.

Munpyeong finally let out a deep sigh. He felt like he could live again. If he had been alone, it would have been a disaster. He was lucky to have Cheonma with him. He had never expected him to take care of him like this.

`Should I have accepted his help earlier?`

Now that he was lucid, a belated regret settled in his heart. It would have been better to have just listened to him than to be in this state now. At least then he wouldn't have been guilty of not listening.

“…Thank you, My Lord.”

Munpyeong said, glancing nervously at Cheonma. Since he was behind him, he couldn't see his expression. Staring straight ahead, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. But he didn't have the courage to turn around and face him.

Munpyeong just sat there, head bowed. Cheonma let out a deep sigh and moved his hands down to Munpyeong's waist.

“W-What? My Lord?”

Cheonma’s arms pulled his waist flush against his own stomach. His hard abs pressed against Munpyeong’s back like a stamp. The massive, hard flesh that had been uncomfortably close now pressed against his buttocks without hesitation.

Cheonma held Munpyeong tightly and rested his chin on his shoulder. Pulled into an embrace that was far too intimate for their relationship, Munpyeong peeked at Cheonma from the corner of his eye, trying to discern his intentions.

“You feel like you can live now, don’t you?”

Cheonma asked in a chillingly low voice. The embrace was that of a lover, but the voice coming from his neck was utterly menacing. The deep resonance in his throat was like the purr of a predator.

“…Yes. Thanks to you, I feel much better.”

“I believe I warned you. That if you pushed yourself and got hurt, I wouldn't let you off.”

To be precise, he had only said not to get hurt by pushing himself; he hadn't said he wouldn't let him off. But Cheonma subtly altered his own words to intimidate him.

His rich, deep voice sank low, almost a growl. The sheer force of it, even without raising his voice, made Munpyeong instinctively shrink back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would get this bad.”

Munpyeong had no excuse. He had been needlessly stubborn, hurt his own body, and troubled Cheonma, so he had expected a scolding.

“You have only one redeeming quality. The fact that you take good care of your own body. But lately, it seems you've forgotten that quality. Have you become lax since leaving the Cult? Shall I give you a shock to your system? Make you worry about your well-being day and night?”

“Th-there’s no need to go that far.”

“You need to be on your toes so I don’t have to waste my time with petty worries. How am I supposed to travel with someone who can't even take care of his own body and is constantly collapsing? To be brought to a near-death state by a simple horse ride… the name ‘martial artist’ is wasted on you.”

Cheonma was skilled in all things. Among them, he was best at tormenting others. When it came to scolding, he had reached a level of near-perfection.

Holding him tight so he couldn’t escape, he whispered his reproaches into his ear, as if murmuring sweet nothings. For the listener, it was enough to break out in a cold sweat. He wasn’t using harsh words or ridicule, but his tone was so full of meaning that it was unnerving.

When he asked, ‘Shall I give you a shock to your system?’ it sounded so much like a threat that Munpyeong was truly afraid. And when he sneered that the name ‘martial artist’ was wasted on him, he felt a genuine sense of shame. To be able to lift someone up and tear them down with just a few words… Cheonma was certainly no ordinary human.

“I’m sorry.”

There was nothing else he could say. Only that he was sorry. Cheonma clicked his tongue, as was his habit, and took Munpyeong’s chin, turning his head to the side. Following his lead, Munpyeong found himself meeting Cheonma’s dark, shadowed gaze.

“Listen carefully. If you ask for something I cannot give, there is nothing I can do. It is beyond my ability, so no matter how much you want it, I cannot grant it. But if it is something I *can* give, I have no intention of holding back. So from now on, do not look for propriety in front of me. You alone cannot be a burden to me.”

Cheonma ordered him coldly, his tone frosty as if a warning. Faced with such a solemn admonition, Munpyeong was struck dumb.

He, who did not know how to rely on others, couldn’t even properly understand Cheonma’s intentions. At first glance, his words sounded like a promise to give him anything he wanted. Within his power, he would give anything, without reservation or holding back.

But Munpyeong couldn't fully believe him. He knew Cheonma had been paying him special attention lately, but their relationship hadn't progressed to the point where such words could be exchanged.

Munpyeong only intended to stay with him until the matter with the Wusheng Cult was over—that is, until Cheonma ended all this chaos and secured his safety. For someone with that mindset, Cheonma’s current consideration felt overly awkward and heavy. He had no desire to hear such a promise from him.

Munpyeong knew that the more he demanded from Cheonma, the harder it would be to break free from him. Even if Cheonma gave him what he wanted with no ulterior motives, it would all be a debt. If he wanted to leave him with a clear conscience, he couldn't accept anything more.

Knowing this, Munpyeong gave no answer. But Cheonma, seeing the flicker of stubbornness in his silent eyes, knew exactly what his answer was.

`I see. You're afraid to accept my help so freely, aren’t you? Because that help might chain you down when you want to leave with a clear conscience?`

Audacious bastard. A cool smile touched Cheonma’s lips. Such a grand dream. Did he not see what he was doing?

Cheonma intended to capture Munpyeong by any means necessary. To think this one dared to dream of running away after stealing his heart—he had no idea how much nerve this man had.

“What a look in your eyes. Do you really want to see who wins?”

Cheonma held Munpyeong’s chin and pulled him closer, staring intently into his eyes. Munpyeong’s gaze wavered, unable to hold firm. Cheonma smiled deeply. He had never once in his life shied away from a challenge.

“If that’s what you want, then let’s see. Who wins. Me, or you.”

His voice, filled with amusement as if he found something incredibly funny, sounded like a declaration. The lips that had been hesitating, unable to speak, were covered by his. A short, intense kiss. Cheonma lightly bit Munpyeong’s lower lip before releasing it, a white smile gracing his wet cheeks.

A picturesque smile rested on his impossibly handsome face. But to Munpyeong, that smile was just another threat. Feeling as if he had just done something he couldn't handle again, his heart grew heavy. He should have just given a half-hearted answer. If he had just tried to get through the moment, he wouldn't be in this situation.

But it wasn't easy to lie to someone who was confronting him with such sincerity. Even if that someone was Cheonma.

***

A half-moon, like a half-eaten dumpling, hung in the sky.

The Broken-Faced Wanderer, having climbed to the roof of the inn to avoid people, took off his bamboo hat for a change, exposing his bare face to the cool night wind. It was mid-spring, when the nights were still chilly. Sitting on the roof, the wind was quite cold.

But the Broken-Faced Wanderer lay back on the roof with no intention of going down. A bottle of strong liquor, brought up as a companion, dangled from his side.

`That man is definitely not Hero Yun. His eyes are exactly the same as the real Hero Yun’s, but he is not the same person.`

The Broken-Faced Wanderer drank straight from the bottle, lost in thought. Lately, a concern had been plaguing him. He had realized that something was amiss with Yun Seung-hyo, the man he had been relying on.

The man downstairs, posing as Yun Seung-hyo, was definitely not him. Though he was hidden behind a stunningly perfect disguise, his fundamental nature was too different from Yun Seung-hyo’s.

An ordinary person might not have noticed the difference. But the Broken-Faced Wanderer knew that a level of disguise so sophisticated it was beyond most people's imagination existed in the world. Having had his own face stolen by such a person in the past, he was especially sensitive to such things.

`Who is that person? And where is the real Hero Yun? When we were on the pleasure boat, it was definitely him, but the person who returned to Youxiang Village was not. I was the one who led the group to Youxiang Village, and only the real Yun Seung-hyo, who contacted me through a secret line, knew that. That means it was Yun Seung-hyo himself who sent that man to the village.`

`Could it be that the two of them have been posing as one person all along? For some special reason? But I've never seen anyone else impersonating him before. I wish I knew the details. I can’t shake my suspicions, so I find myself second-guessing everything.`

The bitter liquor burned his throat like poison as it went down. The Broken-Faced Wanderer quietly wiped his mouth, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

Years ago, when he encountered the master of disguise, his entire life had been turned upside down. His face was disfigured, and he was so severely injured he was on the verge of death. He had only survived because, by a stroke of luck, the person who saved him was the Holy Mother of Kunlun. Without her help, the Broken-Faced Wanderer would have died on the road that day, more than twenty years ago.

The deep wound from that incident remained with him. And so, he couldn't shake his concern for the real one’s safety.

From the circumstances, it seemed Yun Seung-hyo himself was aware of the situation, but there was always the "what if." Hadn't he himself experienced the unbelievable situation of having his face stolen and having to endure watching his enemy walk around as him? He had lost not only his face, but his identity, his life, and his people. Who could say that a similar case wouldn't happen again?

More than twenty years ago, while traveling through Qinghai to visit his father's sect, he was unexpectedly attacked. His face was disfigured with a viciousness that bespoke a deep malice, and even his dantian was destroyed. He was left alone in the mountains, awaiting death. The cruel attacker hadn't even killed him outright. They had left him alive in a deserted mountain, as if wanting him to die in incomprehensible pain and terror.

Fortunately, he was found by the Holy Mother of Kunlun, who was gathering medicinal herbs, and his life was saved. But it took half a year to regain his health and a full three years to recover his lost martial arts. He might not have even managed that without the Holy Mother, who had supported him with all her heart and resources, not even knowing his true identity.

But during that time, his enemy had completely made his place his own. Having lost his face and even his voice, he had no way to prove who he was. The Broken-Faced Wanderer had been driven to despair when he realized that even his own mother hadn't recognized that he had been replaced.

To this day, the Broken-Faced Wanderer did not know why his enemy had chosen him. While he had a promising future, there were many others in the Jianghu with a status no less than his. Though his name now shook the world, it was because the person who stole his identity had earned that fame, not because his own status was so great.

Twenty years ago, he was just a fledgling. A fledgling from a well-off family with handsome features, nothing more. His martial talent was not bad for his age, but the skills of the man who stole his identity made even that seem insignificant.

`I’ve sent a message to headquarters, so I'll have to wait. If this was a deliberate plan, it would be difficult to interfere rashly. But if they don’t give me an answer, I will have to investigate on my own. I owe Hero Yun a great debt, so it’s only right that I repay him this much.`

Knowing it would be a difficult fight, his resolve was already set. It was possible that even the Haomun, the organization he had served, would consider him a traitor. But he felt he had no choice. It was not in his nature to turn a blind eye to injustice. As his mother had often lamented, it was in his blood, inherited from his father, to never back down from a fight, no matter how reckless.

**Flicker. Flicker.**

Just then, as he tilted his bottle and gazed absently at the street, a strange sight caught his eye. From the window of the last house in the alley opposite the inn, a strange light was emanating. The light appeared and disappeared in a regular rhythm.

The Broken-Faced Wanderer, who had been too lost in his thoughts to notice the signal, finally realized it was a code used by the Haomun and rose to his feet. The warm flush of drunkenness vanished. Someone from the Haomun wanted to meet with him.

`What is it?`

The Broken-Faced Wanderer, unable to hide his tension, put his bamboo hat back on and leaped onto the neighboring roof. Landing silently like a cat, he began to run towards the house where the signal was coming from. Dressed in black in the dark night, he was almost invisible. The incredibly nimble footwork, unbefitting his large frame, was the Divine Walker's Hidden Trace Step, one of the secret arts of the Kunlun Sect.

The Haomun’s business was always clandestine. Having no intention of approaching the front door, the Broken-Faced Wanderer crossed over the roof of the house and entered through the back.

When he knocked on the door in the prescribed manner, a responsive code was heard from inside. The Broken-Faced Wanderer gripped and released the hilt of his sword and cautiously opened the door, stepping inside.

In the dark room, lit by a single oil lamp, sat a lone figure. It was a middle-aged man with a small, stooped frame. The man, whose face was sallow with illness, looked up at him. The Broken-Faced Wanderer spoke to him using the prescribed hand signals.

[When the well is deep, the water is clear. Did you summon me?]

[Fish do not live in deep water. It was I who summoned you.]

The correct response came from the other man. The Broken-Faced Wanderer, keeping his eyes on him, slowly closed the door. The sickly man gave a slight smile and opened his thin lips to speak.

“It has been a long time, Broken-Faced Wanderer. I apologize for being away for so long.”

The Broken-Faced Wanderer whirled around in shock. The voice coming from the small man’s mouth was none other than Yun Seung-hyo’s. Unless there was another imposter mimicking him, this had to be the real Yun Seung-hyo.

[Can it be… the Human Fox?]

The Thousand-Faced Human Fox. It was the name that referred to Yun Seung-hyo's secret identity. Known publicly as Flower Hero or Flower Fiend, he was also the mysterious Thousand-Faced Human Fox, a figure whose title was known but whose true identity was hidden.

Though unknown to the public, the leader of the Haomun had used the title of Thousand-Faced Human Fox for generations. As the name suggested, the Thousand-Faced Human Fox was a master of disguise whose true face no one had ever seen, a name that was perfectly suited for Yun Seung-hyo, whose public and secret identities were so thoroughly separated.

When the Broken-Faced Wanderer posed his question using the organization’s hand signals, Yun Seung-hyo smiled faintly and reverted to his true form. **Crack, creak, pop-pop-pop.** The unsettling sounds, which he could never get used to, echoed as his stooped back straightened. Color returned to his pale face, and his unremarkable features became handsome.

In a short time, Yun Seung-hyo had regained his original appearance. Only the shabby clothes, which his true self would never have worn, remained as a reminder of his previous form.

“I apologize for being late. I intended to return quickly, but circumstances did not allow it.”

[What happened to the person you were looking for? Did you find them?]

“That… things got complicated, and I lost them. I got caught up in something else and by the time I came to my senses, I had lost their trail. I just wasted time, unable to do anything.”

Yun Seung-hyo said with a bitter smile on his handsome face. He was trying to act nonchalant, but the dark shadow in his eyes showed he was deeply disappointed. Knowing that he was a man of deep affection and lingering attachment, the Broken-Faced Wanderer had no words of comfort to offer.

“I received your letter yesterday. It seems you were very worried about me moving without explanation. I hurried here, thinking your concern would only grow if I didn't respond. …But you didn't tell anyone you were leaving, did you?”

[No. I came without anyone knowing. I am well aware that the business of the Haomun always requires secrecy.]

“I see. That’s a relief.”

Though he didn’t know what he was worried about, Yun Seung-hyo looked visibly relieved at the Broken-Faced Wanderer's answer. The Broken-Faced Wanderer tilted his head in confusion but took the seat at the table that was offered to him. Shifting his shoulders as if uncomfortable in the rough clothes, Yun Seung-hyo began to speak.

“Because I know I can trust you, I will speak frankly from now on. This is not something I should tell anyone lightly, but the matter is extremely urgent. I need your help, so I will reveal everything without hiding anything. No matter how surprising it may be, please do not interrupt and hear me out to the end.”

The man who always wore a leisurely smile was now speaking with an unprecedented seriousness. The Broken-Faced Wanderer pressed his lips together and nodded. If Yun Seung-hyo was speaking like this, something truly momentous must have happened. It was a rare sight for a man who treated even serious matters like a joke to be so grave.

“First, I will answer the question you had. The person who is currently posing as me among Baek Woo-gyeong’s group is none other than Cheonma. Yes, that Heavenly Demon. The greatest under heaven and the leader of the Demonic Cult, Hyukryeon Sang.”

The Broken-Faced Wanderer could not hide his shock. He had never imagined that the man was Cheonma. It made sense that a figure of that caliber would possess such perfect disguise skills. But why would such a being borrow Yun Seung-hyo's appearance? And how did Yun Seung-hyo, who came from a powerful family, know such a person?

For the sake of the curious Broken-Faced Wanderer, Yun Seung-hyo explained the general situation. That the two had become close after his maternal grandfather, the King of the Western Plains, was exiled beyond the Jade Gate Pass. That Yun Seung-hyo himself had known Cheonma since he was a child, had received martial arts instruction and tutelage from him. That since his grandfather and Cheonma were sworn brothers, he was almost like a grandson-in-law to him. He explained everything.

The Broken-Faced Wanderer sat silently and listened to Yun Seung-hyo's explanation. With his face already hard to read and his bamboo hat on, it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

“He is currently using my appearance to join the Righteous Path Alliance in pursuit of a renegade from the Demonic Cult. The group that has stolen the Qilin Plaque and is shaking the world is undoubtedly the remnants of a rebellion within the cult. It seems they wish to complete the work they attempted over twenty years ago. With his help, catching them will be much easier, so I agreed to lend him my identity. It would not be an easy task to face an enemy with the ambition to challenge him, without him.”

Trying to explain the whole story to someone who knew nothing of the deep-seated circumstances, he found he had to go into every little detail. To ensure there were no misunderstandings, Yun Seung-hyo explained the important parts thoroughly and then paused for a breath.

The Broken-Faced Wanderer sat like a stone, his hands on his knees. Though he hid his identity, he was clearly from the Orthodox Faction, and this story was likely difficult for him to accept. But Yun Seung-hyo was optimistic. There was still much more for him to hear. Once he had heard the rest of the story, he would have no choice but to cooperate for the sake of the greater good.

“First, let me tell you what happened to me. After Myorang misunderstood me and left the pleasure boat, I went ashore at Dongting Lake to search for her. She was originally from the Joyful Pavilion, a place whose name is famous in the Jianghu, but whose true nature is known to few. It faithfully follows the principle of hiding a tree in a forest and disguises itself as an ordinary brothel. Remembering that, I sought out the nearest brothel. A child with a wounded heart would think of home first.”

And so, Yun Seung-hyo went to the pleasure district and there, he encountered an unexpected person. To be precise, he didn’t meet him, but rather, he spotted him.

The man’s name was Yeo Cheon-dong, an infamous unorthodox master known in the Jianghu as the Soul-Devouring Demon. He was from a previous generation and was skilled in a wicked art that controlled dead bodies as if they were alive. He had perverted the corpse-controlling arts of the Gorumun Sect to create monsters that tore the flesh and ripped out the organs of the living.

He used these monsters to satisfy his bloodlust, wreaking havoc across the Jianghu. He even trapped an entire small village, raising the bodies of the villagers to have the dead slaughter their own neighbors and families, a cruel and inhuman bloodbath that earned him the public condemnation of the Jianghu and made him a wanted criminal. As far as the Broken-Faced Wanderer knew, he was supposed to be imprisoned in the Black Demon Prison.

The Black Demon Prison, where the Righteous Path Alliance incarcerated evil unorthodox leaders and wanted criminals, was a terrible place from which, it was said, no one could ever escape. Some said it was a bottomless pit, others a harsh island beyond the southern sea.

No one knew exactly where it was or what it was like, but there was never a story of anyone who had been taken there ever coming out again. It was clearly a place that was difficult to escape, even for the most formidable masters.

And yet Yeo Cheon-dong, more than a decade after being taken to the Black Demon Prison, was freely roaming the outside world. Yun Seung-hyo, who recognized him by his fingernails, which were blackened by corpse poison, was truly shocked. The man, embracing a young courtesan as he entered a tavern, was completely unharmed. His face still had the same deathly pallor of a dying crow, and his martial arts seemed to be intact.

Unable to let it go, Yun Seung-hyo began to track him. He couldn’t just ignore it, especially since there had been a number of suspicious incidents related to the Black Demon Prison lately.

Driven by an unavoidable sense of duty, Yun Seung-hyo began to follow Yeo Cheon-dong and soon discovered a shocking truth. To his astonishment, Yeo Cheon-dong was not the only wanted criminal who had been released from the Black Demon Prison.

The Iron Demoness Gi Il-hwa, who had drained countless young masters with her cruel yin-absorbing techniques, was also out. And the One-Legged Chaos Demon Gang Ja-ryu, who had massacred an innocent small sect just because someone had brushed against his robes, was out as well.

They were all members of a group called the Wusheng Cult, and upon closer inspection, it seemed they were under some kind of restriction there.

This discovery planted a strong suspicion in Yun Seung-hyo’s mind. He couldn't just dismiss the fact that all the criminals who had emerged from the Black Demon Prison belonged to the same group.

Normally, the Black Demon Prison should have been under the strict supervision of the Righteous Path Alliance. For criminals who should never be allowed back into the Jianghu to be walking free was a violation of all principles.

Yun Seung-hyo realized that someone within the Righteous Path Alliance was deeply involved in this. It was undoubtedly someone with considerable influence.

Never one to give up, he trusted the clues he had found and continued his pursuit. He had gone so deep into the enemy's heartland that he couldn't even maintain proper contact with the outside world.

“What I discovered there was truly astonishing. I found out that all the major events currently shaking the Jianghu—the living corpses and Blood Eye users created by the Wusheng Cult, and the rumors about the Qilin Plaque—were all orchestrated by the Orthodox Faction. These were all self-staged dramas created by the leaders of the Orthodox Faction. Even the Qilin Plaque that the Zhuge Clan claimed to have lost was not lost, but deliberately spirited away.”

[But why would the Orthodox Faction do such a thing? Something that even the most vicious unorthodox factions would not do.]

“It seems to be because of Cheonma’s existence. You know that he recently underwent rejuvenation, don't you? That seems to have been the decisive trigger for the Righteous Path Alliance. When Cheonma was growing old, they just waited, but when his time began to flow backward, they could no longer bear it.

One man has held the title of the greatest under heaven for decades. That’s how long they, with all their pride, have been crushed under one man. The realization that it would continue to be so in the future must have been what moved them. They probably considered it a desperate measure to protect future generations.”

The Broken-Faced Wanderer frowned. If that was the case, it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible. But there was something that didn’t quite add up. The things they had done were not something that could be prepared in a day or two. If the catalyst was Cheonma's rejuvenation, which had happened only last spring, the timing didn't fit. As if reading his thoughts, Yun Seung-hyo added a more detailed explanation.

“To put it another way, someone has been laying the groundwork for this for a long time. That person had everything prepared to cause an incident at any time. Cheonma’s rejuvenation became the perfect opportunity for them. It was the trigger that allowed them to persuade the hesitant Orthodox Faction to move forward with their plans. That person’s true identity is likely the renegade from the Demonic Cult that Cheonma is chasing. He is almost certainly disguised as one of the leaders of the Righteous Path Alliance right now.”

[Then Cheonma, he came to the Righteous Path Alliance because he knew this?]

“I believe he probably knows by now. Having seen the situation from the inside, he must have his suspicions. But that was not his original reason for infiltrating the Righteous Path Alliance. Initially, it was for something more personal. It seems he wanted to protect his kin. His only remaining blood relative in the world. It’s understandable.”

[Kin? He has kin in the Righteous Path Alliance?]

“He does. I suspect it’s a nephew. A long time ago, I heard he had a younger brother. Given his inclinations, it’s unlikely he would have produced a child of his own, so if there is a bloodline, it would be his brother’s.”

Yun Seung-hyo, who knew Cheonma was a homosexual, had almost perfectly deduced Baek Woo-gyeong’s identity. But the Broken-Faced Wanderer, who knew nothing, was so surprised by this revelation that his jaw dropped.

The kin of the master of all demons was within the Righteous Path Alliance. He couldn't imagine how such a thing could be possible. His head ached from the impossibly complex history of the previous generation, and the Broken-Faced Wanderer used hand signals to ask about the person’s identity.

[Who is it? How can Cheonma's kin be inside the Righteous Path Alliance?]

Unable to shake the suspicion that the person might be a spy sent to the Orthodox Faction, the Broken-Faced Wanderer asked. At his direct question, Yun Seung-hyo smiled awkwardly and scratched his cheek.

It was a secret of birth, in a way, and he worried if he should be speaking about it so freely. No matter how tight-lipped the Broken-Faced Wanderer was, a secret’s risk of being exposed grew with every person who knew it.

“I don’t know the full details myself. Cheonma is reluctant to speak of it, and even when I tried to look into the past events, it was a secret history of the Jianghu, so thoroughly concealed that it was difficult to access.”

[No matter what secrets there are, shouldn't such a thing be impossible? How can you be so sure that person is not a spy for the Demonic Cult, Hero Yun?]

“I can be certain of that. The person himself knows nothing of this. I have watched him for a long time, and he is a very decent person. A hero the likes of which is hard to find in the world, with an upright character and actions that serve as a model for others. Besides his lineage to Cheonma, his background is also excellent. His maternal family is one of the most prestigious, and his sect is one of the Nine Great Sects. A person raised in such an environment is unlikely to betray the Orthodox Faction now. Not that Cheonma would allow it, anyway.”

A hero of the world. A maternal family of great orthodox prestige. And his sect is one of the Nine Great Sects.

The conditions all pointed to one person. The Broken-Faced Wanderer’s disfigured face hardened into an exceptionally grim expression. The blood drained from his tightly clenched fist. Could it be? He wanted to think not, but the conditions Yun Seung-hyo had listed were too specific.

The Broken-Faced Wanderer, who had been biting his lip, opened his mouth, which he rarely did, and asked a direct question.

“This kin of Cheonma… is it Baek Woo-gyeong?”

His rough, cracked, and turbid voice grated on the ears. It was less like a human voice and more like the scraping of metal.

As the Broken-Faced Wanderer correctly identified the person, Yun Seung-hyo found himself in a truly difficult position. He had tried to be vague, but the conditions he had provided must have been too straightforward. How had he guessed so accurately, without even a hint of hesitation?

“It is difficult for me to confirm. That is not something I am at liberty to speak of.”

“This is an important matter for me. Please confirm it.”

The Broken-Faced Wanderer was already half-convinced, but he wanted to hear a definite answer and asked again.

“Is it Baek Woo-gyeong?”

Yun Seung-hyo couldn’t understand why he was so obsessed with Cheonma's kin and was deeply flustered. But the Broken-Faced Wanderer, who was now pressing him relentlessly, even speaking aloud, showed no signs of giving up. Left with no choice, Yun Seung-hyo affirmed his question.

“…It is. It’s something almost no one knows, but he is the last remaining kin of Cheonma.”

The Broken-Faced Wanderer had found the answer to a question that had plagued him his entire life in the most unexpected of places.

`So that’s what it was. That’s what it was all about.`

Like a dam breaking, all his questions were answered at once. The identity of the one who had done that to him, his motive, his purpose—all of it. The man hadn't chosen him at random. It wasn't because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time; he had been targeted by someone who was aiming for him, and only him.

“Then I know. I know who the renegade from the Demonic Cult inside the Righteous Path Alliance is. Baek Woo-gyeong is the renegade. Because the man who is currently posing as him is not the real Baek Woo-gyeong.”

The Broken-Faced Wanderer’s demeanor as he spoke directly, without using his usual hand signals or writing, was anything but ordinary. Yun Seung-hyo, sensing something was wrong, watched him with a sharp, tense gaze.

Beneath the deeply pulled-down bamboo hat, he could see the corner of his mouth twist. It was a contortion of muscle, impossible to tell if it was a smile or a cry, that created a stark curve across his rugged scars.

“I will tell you for the first time, Hero Yun. My real name is Baek Woo-gyeong. I am the foolish man who had his face and identity stolen by a mysterious assailant over twenty years ago. I always wondered why such a thing happened, and now, I think I finally have the answer. From tonight, perhaps I will be able to sleep a little more peacefully.”

At this unbelievable, stunning revelation, Yun Seung-hyo was left dumbstruck.

`Baek Woo-gyeong? Did he really say that? The Broken-Faced Wanderer was actually the real Baek Woo-gyeong?`

They had known each other for over a decade, but Yun Seung-hyo had never once suspected that the Broken-Faced Wanderer was hiding such a story. He stared at him with an expression of disbelief.

He wished it were a joke, but the Broken-Faced Wanderer was not one to joke about such things.

`Damn it. Then is this man really Baek Woo-gyeong?`

Yun Seung-hyo, who had never once doubted Baek Woo-gyeong, twisted his face in agony. If the current Baek Woo-gyeong was really Gwak Hyo, then he had perfectly hidden his true nature. He had concealed himself not only from him, but from Cheonma himself.

`Damn it. Why didn’t I think of that? If he was disguised as Cheonma’s own kin, he could escape the surveillance of his most dangerous enemy. The surveillance of Cheonma himself!`

Gwak Hyo was a far more brilliant figure than he had ever imagined. A belated shiver ran through Yun Seung-hyo, and he bit his lip furiously.

He couldn’t keep this incredible fact from Cheonma. He could be caught off guard and stabbed in the back, so he had to inform him beforehand. But despite this thought, the idea of appearing before Cheonma was not appealing. From his perspective, he was a madman who had caused a mess and then immediately run off. How was he supposed to face the consequences of that and show his face to him?

If he could, he would have preferred to never see him again for the rest of his life. If only that were possible, Yun Seung-hyo might have actually done it.