ch 17

 

Chapter 17

“There he is! The Thieving Fox of Creation, the one with the Qilin Plaque, is over there!”

Some damn bastard had spotted Tang Won-cho’s trail and started shouting at the top of his lungs.

`That son of a bitch! Damn his eagle eyes to hell!`

Tang Won-cho, who had been concealed in the deep shade of a tree using a cloaking art, cursed the sharp-eyed man and launched himself forward. The very instant he moved with a movement technique as ephemeral as a ghost, a flurry of hidden weapons slammed into the spot where he had been.

The weapons, stained a deathly blue, reeked of a foul poison. Judging by the variety of shapes and types, they weren't being thrown by just one or two people. Tang Won-cho swallowed the curses rising in his throat and kept his feet moving.

In his twenty-odd years as a “gentleman on the rafters,” he had never been chased this relentlessly. How in the world did they know he had this item? More than anything, Tang Won-cho was dying of curiosity.

He had stolen the treasure from the corpse of the late Three Yin Eagle Spirit. No one had been watching him at the time; it was a deed that not even a mouse or a bird could have known. Yet, less than half a day after he’d gotten his hands on it, they had found him.

`Damn bastards. If I let you catch me, I don’t deserve the name the Thieving Fox of Creation.`

One of the most renowned thieves in the Jianghu, the Thieving Fox of Creation felt that the chance to change his life had finally arrived. For decades, he had lived by his wits and his nimble body alone. Though his life was comfortable from raiding the storehouses of the rich, his heart always felt empty.

When he first picked up a sword and threw himself into the Jianghu, was there anyone who didn't dream of raising their martial name to the heavens? His talents weren’t enough to make a living, so he had resorted to thievery, but he too once had a dream. And now, a monumental opportunity to achieve that dream was right before his eyes. Tang Won-cho resolved that he could not miss this chance, even if it meant death.

`Is there some law that says I have to live my whole life being called a thief? If this is the Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon, then there’s no law saying I can’t become a Heavenly Demon myself.`

Even as he ran for his life, his heart swelled with dreams. The Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon. Just hearing the name was enough to make him giddy.

From what he’d heard, this martial art was a foundational technique of the Demonic Cult, one that even the current Heavenly Demon had not managed to master. The thought of himself mastering it and commanding the world brought an involuntary smile to his face.

He grinned like a madman as he ran. He knew he had to focus on escaping, but it was difficult to rein in his excitement.

If the day ever came when he re-emerged in the Jianghu, those who chased him today would regret their sins for the rest of their lives.

Tang Won-cho memorized each and every one of the faces chasing him. When he returned after mastering the Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon, they would prostrate themselves on the ground, trembling in fear, lamenting how they had dared to persecute the one destined to become the supreme ruler of the Jianghu.

It was a thought closer to delusion than imagination, but Tang Won-cho was blissfully happy. Just yesterday, he had no future. Now, he had a new tomorrow. A hopeful tomorrow he was willing to risk his life to live, just once.

“Stop right there, you rat-like bastard!”

As he weaved through the trees, his remarkable speed making him a difficult target, one of his pursuers behind him exploded in frustration.

`Would you stop, you crazy bastard?`

Tang Won-cho paid no heed to the vicious curses. His only thought was to move his feet faster and shake them off.

“Hmph. How arrogant. To think you could turn your back on me and survive.”

Suddenly, a chilling sneer echoed from behind him. A premonition of doom shot through Tang Won-cho. Without breaking his stride, he threw himself into a roll. It was the humiliating posture of a donkey rolling in the dust, but it saved his life.

Something incredibly sharp sliced through the air where his waist had been, devastating not only his former position but the entire area around it. Trees so thick they would take two men to encircle were sliced clean in half at their trunks.

As the massive trees fell without warning, screams erupted from among his pursuers.

“Aaargh!”

**CRACK.**

**CRUNCH.**

Amidst the cacophony of splintering and crushing sounds, Tang Won-cho sprang up from his roll and started running again. An irritated, cold voice clicked its tongue. The voice shouted as another sword strike flew toward Tang Won-cho’s back.

“You wretch! You cannot escape!”

Unlike the others, this opponent was a man of his word. Convinced that his spine would be severed if he kept running, Tang Won-cho pitched forward and rolled again and again, his entire body becoming covered in dirt and dust. Seeing his pathetic state, the man did not stop his pursuit.

After rolling several more times to evade, he could go no further. A foot slammed down on his neck. The man, who had stepped on him with enough force to snap his neck at any moment, pressed the tip of his broken sword to Tang Won-cho’s nose, his face a mask of grim fury.

“A mere petty thief dares to covet a treasure of the Jianghu. In all my life, I have never seen a petty thief as brave as you.”

Just as his harsh and cruel appearance suggested, the man’s words were laced with venom. Tang Won-cho’s face turned crimson as he struggled for breath. The man’s foot was pressing down hard on his windpipe, making it impossible to move, let alone breathe properly.

The tip of the half-broken sword followed his darting eyes with terrifying precision. Tense with fear as the blade moved threateningly, as if to gouge out his eyes, Tang Won-cho managed to force a question through his unmoving lips.

“A-are you… the Old Ghost of the Severed Sword?”

“So the foolish rat has eyes after all. Yes. I am the Old Ghost of the Severed Sword, Jung Yeom-cheon.”

Jung Yeom-cheon deliberately raised his voice, announcing his identity for all to hear. His voice, filled with internal energy, echoed through the surroundings, and the noisy forest fell silent. Even the intermittent groans of pain ceased. Such was the power his name held.

Jung Yeom-cheon, the Old Ghost of the Severed Sword, was an expelled disciple of the Diancang Sect and a peak master whose skills were said to be approaching the transcendent realm. Though he had no significant backing and walked the line between the righteous and unorthodox factions, no one dared to make an enemy of him. His methods were ruthless, and once he held a grudge, he would never forget it until it was repaid. The half-sword, broken during his expulsion, was his unique symbol, making his identity instantly recognizable.

“Though it is said that the treasures of the Jianghu have no owner, for a toad crawling on the ground to covet the goose meat of the heavens… you know not your place. Enough talk. Hand over the Qilin Plaque.”

“N-never… gack!”

“Will you hand it over alive, or shall I take it from your corpse? Do you still not understand that a life like yours means nothing to me?”

When his captive resisted, Jung Yeom-cheon pressed down harder with his foot. He wanted to kill him outright and take the item, but he couldn't rule out the possibility that the thief had hidden it elsewhere, so he barely suppressed the urge.

Even a mere rabbit digs three escape holes. This man was a cunning thief. Unsure what tricks he might have up his sleeve, Jung Yeom-cheon did not let his guard down.

“A-absolutely not. You might as well kill me.”

Tang Won-cho had sensed Jung Yeom-cheon’s hesitation. A man as famously ruthless as Jung Yeom-cheon would think nothing of taking a life or two to get what he wanted. The only reason he was still alive was because Jung Yeom-cheon feared some trick he might have played with the treasure.

In this situation, handing over the Qilin Plaque would mean losing not just the treasure, but his life as well. Knowing this, Tang Won-cho held out. It was his only option.

“Insolent fool.”

Seeing the cunning in Tang Won-cho’s darting eyes, rage surged within Jung Yeom-cheon.

`A mere second-rate petty thief dares to defy me!`

It seemed the fool didn’t realize there were plenty of things on a man’s body that could be cut off besides his head. The pathetic wretch didn’t even appreciate what a blessing it was to be able to die with all his limbs intact.

Jung Yeom-cheon’s eyes glinted coldly as he slid his sword. The Severed Sword, which had been a precious blade capable of cutting through iron before it was broken, plunged into Tang Won-cho’s shoulder. With the sharp blade infused with sword energy, severing an arm was a simple matter.

Without any warning, Tang Won-cho’s arm was sliced off. He let out a horrifying scream, seized by sheer terror.

“AAAAAAAGH!!!!”

A blood-curdling shriek echoed through the forest, making one’s hair stand on end. The already quiet surroundings became even more silent. Moments ago, countless people had been chasing Tang Won-cho, but now, it was as if they had all vanished, leaving an eerie stillness in the forest.

“You still have three more limbs left. No, counting your neck and your manhood, that makes five. If you don’t answer my questions, I will cut them off one by one. You can choose whether to die a eunuch or a cripple.”

Jung Yeom-cheon kicked Tang Won-cho’s shoulder to stanch the bleeding and delivered his cold ultimatum. Half-mad with pain, Tang Won-cho looked up at him in agony.

Jung Yeom-cheon was truly prepared to dismember him. The tip of the sword, still dripping with blood, moved toward his remaining shoulder. The blade didn’t retract its sword energy as it moved, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake.

“Ugh. Uuugh.”

Paralyzed by extreme terror, Tang Won-cho could only watch the blade’s passage, unable to even beg for mercy. After tracing the blade across Tang Won-cho’s skin to his other shoulder, Jung Yeom-cheon muttered as if to himself.

“It would be difficult for him to hand over the item if both his arms are gone. Perhaps I should cut off one of his legs instead.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Tang Won-cho’s right thigh was severed below the hip. The fact that it was cut so cleanly, without even a faint sound of slicing, was all the more terrifying.

With an arm and a leg gone in an instant, Tang Won-cho was on the verge of fainting. But Jung Yeom-cheon ruthlessly kicked him in the Dangmen acupoint on his chest, jolting his fading consciousness back to reality.

Tang Won-cho coughed up bloody foam and came to his senses. Just moments ago, he was dreaming of ruling the world; now, he was a mangled cripple.

Was this truly his punishment for being too greedy? No. It couldn’t be. It was impossible that a person’s fate was meant to be this cruel from the start.

Thick tears of blood streamed from the corners of Tang Won-cho's regret-filled eyes. Everyone has the right to dream. Just because he was a thief, a second-rate warrior, why couldn’t he dream of conquering the world?

But Jung Yeom-cheon arrogantly refused to acknowledge that. To him, Tang Won-cho's dream, which overstepped its bounds, was a sin in its very existence, a moral failing.

“If you want to keep your remaining limbs, answer me. Where is the Qilin Plaque?”

“Heh, heheheheh.”

“You laugh? You still find this situation amusing?”

“Of course it’s amusing. The one who doesn’t grasp the situation isn’t me, it’s you. If you were me, do you think you’d obediently hand over the treasure to the man who put you in this state? Not a chance. I’d give it to anyone else, but never to you.”

Tang Won-cho managed to move his mouth, which was gurgling with bloody foam, and spat out the curse-like words. His eyes, blazing with hatred, were bloodshot and wild.

Enraged, Jung Yeom-cheon raised his sword again. This fool still needed to be taught a lesson.

“Insolent whelp. You still don’t know your place.”

“The one who doesn’t know his place is you, Old Ghost of the Severed Sword.”

Tang Won-cho, who had been chuckling with venomous spite, suddenly raised his voice. As if he had squeezed every last bit of his internal energy into his shout, his voice boomed like the Lion’s Roar of a Buddhist monk.

“All of you here, listen!! As you know, I have the Qilin Plaque! But I am not foolish enough to carry it on my person like some idiot!! Anyone, I don’t care who, kill the Old Ghost of the Severed Sword before my eyes!! And I will tell that person where the Qilin Plaque is hidden!!”

His voice thundered through the forest. Even a deaf man, if he were in this forest, could not have missed this tremendous shout.

“You son of a bitch!!”

Never imagining Tang Won-cho would resort to such a tactic, Jung Yeom-cheon couldn't contain his fury and kicked him. The kick, packed with internal energy, sent Tang Won-cho flying, worsening his injuries. His clavicle shattered and his ribs broke. The splintered bone fragments embedded themselves in his flesh, causing severe internal bleeding.

Unable to bear the pain, Tang Won-cho coughed up a torrent of blood. The dark red stream was flecked with pieces of his internal organs.

`This cur, who is worse than a dog, doesn’t know his place!!`

Jung Yeom-cheon prepared to kick Tang Won-cho again, but his action was cut short. A hidden arrow shot past his foot, landing just inches away. The arrow buried itself deep in the ground, its tail quivering. Narrowly avoiding having his foot pierced, Jung Yeom-cheon turned his head, his eyes blazing with fury.

As he glared in the direction the arrow came from, several figures slowly emerged from the chaotic forest of felled trees.

Twelve people stepped forward. Most of them were first-rate masters, and among them, two had even reached the peak realm.

They all wore identical white robes with blue sashes, and their sleeves were tucked into arm guards for ease of movement. On their shoulders, they carried short bows made for firing palm-length arrows. Throughout the world, only one group adhered to such a uniform, making their identity immediately clear.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Jin Clan? What brings you all the way here from Guangdong?”

Realizing who they were, Jung Yeom-cheon couldn't resist a sarcastic tone, though he didn't dare speak to them informally. An old man with the noble air of a Daoist immortal and a magnificent beard that reached his chest replied with a benevolent smile.

“Hohoho. How interesting. Our Jin Clan has come all the way from Guangdong, yet everyone recognizes us before we even introduce ourselves. It is easy to forget a friend who is far away, but it seems my fellow members of the Jianghu are truly righteous.”

The words were gentle, but they had bones. Understanding the calm warning hidden within the soft demeanor, Jung Yeom-cheon said no more.

Just as he suspected, the bearded old man who appeared with the warriors of the Guangdong Jin Clan was their family head, Jin Gung-in, also known as “One Step of the Raging Tiger.” He was a cunning old man, seasoned by years in the Jianghu. Having reached the peak realm long ago, he was a veteran master suspected of already being in the transcendent realm. The warriors under him were battle-hardened veterans, forged through frequent clashes with Japanese pirates.

It was often said that if not for the recent rampages of the pirates, the Jin Clan of Guangdong would have made the Five Great Families into the Six Great Families. Such was their rising power. For twelve of their main warriors to appear at once, it was more than a lone wolf like Jung Yeom-cheon could handle.

“Has the esteemed Head of the Jin Clan also come in search of the Demonic Cult’s treasure?”

But no matter how strong his opponents were, he couldn't just tuck his tail between his legs like a beaten dog and retreat. The pride of a master who had walked the Jianghu alone for so long would not allow it.

“The treasure has been without a master for hundreds of years. How could it have a designated owner now?”

“For someone with the appearance of an immortal, you have no shame. The righteous Jin Clan of Guangdong coveting the martial arts of the heretical path.”

“And why are you, the Old Ghost of the Severed Sword, coveting the arts of the Demonic Cult? A respectable disciple of one of the Nine Great Sects, blinded by the Demonic Cult's arts to the point of harming others. Even for an expelled disciple, have you not gone too far?”

The wily Jin Gung-in did not fall for Jung Yeom-cheon’s provocation, still chuckling as he spoke. His tone was not a stern rebuke, but that of a senior lightly chiding a junior, making it difficult for the hot-tempered Jung Yeom-cheon to draw his sword.

Jung Yeom-cheon glared at the masters of the Guangdong Jin Clan with sharp eyes. If they were to attack in earnest, he alone would not be able to withstand them.

“Hahahaha! The old geezer’s tongue is as slick as if it were oiled. Do you think that will hide the black sword you carry in your belly? A futile effort!”

While they were warily sizing each other up, a booming laugh suddenly echoed from above, causing the very air to vibrate. Those who did not quickly muster their internal energy for defense might have suffered internal injuries. Startled, everyone looked up.

Once more, a great laugh shook the earth. The sound, like a great bell shattering, made everyone in the clearing stagger. Only Jin Gung-in, Jung Yeom-cheon, and one other peak master managed to stand their ground.

Before the shockwaves of the laugh had even faded, a figure appeared. The man, whose laugh alone proclaimed him a formidable master, was a powerfully built monk wearing a magnificent golden kasaya and adorned with numerous jade prayer beads.

It was absurd enough for a monk to be dressed in colorful silks, but he also wore large jeweled rings on every finger, a display of truly atrocious taste.

However, no one in the clearing dared to look down on him despite his garish appearance. Everyone recognized that the monk with the large jeweled rings had only seven fingers.

“The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha!!”

Jung Yeom-cheon unwittingly cried out the man’s title. As if things weren't bad enough. A master merely suspected of being transcendent was already a handful, but now a truly confirmed transcendent master had appeared. Recognizing his opponent, Jung Yeom-cheon instinctively knew that his luck had run out today.

“So a half-pint from the righteous path knows this old one’s name. That’s right. I am the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha.”

The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, having landed in the clearing, mimicked Jung Yeom-cheon’s earlier words and let out a savage laugh.

Though he looked to be in his mid-fifties, the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha was actually an old master over seventy. He was a master of the Unorthodox Faction who, despite his monk-like appearance, did nothing of the sort. He took pleasure in raping women who came to pray and made a hobby of beating to death scholarly monks who were out begging.

His name became widely known in the Jianghu about ten years ago after a bloody battle with the famed transcendent master, the “Divine Sword of Shenzhou,” Nu Hyeong-dong. The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha had raped the Divine Sword’s wife when she went to a nearby temple to pray after giving birth. When the enraged Divine Sword came after him, the Evil Buddha slaughtered him as well, proclaiming his wickedness to the world.

Nu Hyeong-dong’s grief-stricken wife took her own life. The Divine Sword's sect, the Great Sword Sect, sent a party to hunt him for revenge, but they only suffered losses and failed to bring the Evil Buddha to justice. The Great Sword Sect, after suffering dozens of casualties, was forced to give up and even seal its gates, a testament to the Evil Buddha’s formidable power.

Even a man as confident as Jung Yeom-cheon could not take such a figure lightly. He stared at the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, his back stiff with tension.

“Hee hee. Excellent. Just excellent. The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Hahaha. Hahahahaha!!”

Lying on the ground and watching the scene unfold, Tang Won-cho began to laugh in triumph. Blood mixed with phlegm flecked his red-stained teeth. His complexion was gradually darkening and the whites of his eyes were turning yellowish; it was clear he wouldn't last much longer.

“This damn son of a bitch!”

Tricked once again by a man he saw as less than an insect, Jung Yeom-cheon couldn't contain his frustration and went to kick him. But before he could even lift his foot, an arrow was fired, and the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha blocked his path with his Zen staff. Unable to handle attacks from two directions at once, Jung Yeom-cheon dodged the arrow only to take a blow from the staff on his calf.

**THWACK!** A horrifying sound echoed, and a terrible pain shot up his shin. Fortunately, the bone didn't seem to be broken, but the muscle was damaged. Caught unprepared, he had suffered a significant blow from a single move.

Staggered, Jung Yeom-cheon lost his balance and stumbled back a few steps. The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha pointed at him with his staff and grinned.

“I have no personal grudge against you. But Tang Won-cho has placed the Qilin Plaque on your head, so I have no choice. Consider it the price for not having the treasure yourself, and give up.”

As the Evil Buddha was about to attack Jung Yeom-cheon, another arrow flew. This time, three men fired at once, and the arrows landed in a line before him.

Annoyed at having his long-awaited action interrupted, the Evil Buddha turned to Jin Gung-in with a furious expression. Jin Gung-in, still smiling leisurely, spoke politely.

“I was speaking with the young Master Jung first, Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha.”

“Ha! So what? Are we to take turns cutting off his head?”

Despite being of similar age and standing, Jin Gung-in used honorifics while the Evil Buddha spoke informally. The difference between them arose from the clear disparity in their known martial prowess.

A transcendent master of the Evil Buddha’s caliber had the right to speak informally even to the head of a clan. In the Jianghu, where the law of the strong prevailed, only the powerful enjoyed all privileges.

“Hohoho. I am not a man of the heretical path like some. I cannot just kill a man to get an item.”

“Then get lost. Stop buzzing around and annoying me!!”

“My, my. Such an impatient temper. What will you do if you just kill him? Shouldn’t we hear Tang Won-cho’s conditions in more detail? The stakes are too high to act on the words of a dying man alone.”

Jin Gung-in and the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha discussed Jung Yeom-cheon’s fate as if he weren’t even there. At the humiliating scene unfolding before his eyes, Jung Yeom-cheon bit his lip. He had never been so insulted in his life. But he had no plan to overcome this predicament.

“I… khak… I have no other motive. I only wish to see my grudge avenged before I die.”

Perhaps worried their conversation was dragging on too long, Tang Won-cho interjected, his voice thick with blood and phlegm. The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, who had been glaring resentfully at Jin Gung-in for blocking his way, saw Tang Won-cho’s worsening condition and stomped his foot, roaring in frustration.

“What if this bastard dies without revealing the tablet’s location? If you really want to talk more, go talk to a corpse. I’m going to kill that one first.”

His fat, enormous body shot forward. The warriors of the Guangdong Jin Clan, startled by his sudden move, reflexively aimed their arrows at him. After a moment of hesitation, Jin Gung-in saw the Evil Buddha hurtling toward Jung Yeom-cheon and signaled with a gesture to change the arrows’ direction.

A short whizzing sound was heard as a sharp arrow flew past Jung Yeom-cheon’s shoulder. The Guangdong Jin Clan had also decided to trade Jung Yeom-cheon’s life for the Qilin Plaque.

From hunter to hunted in an instant because of Tang Won-cho’s single proclamation, Jung Yeom-cheon ground his teeth in fury. He tried to use his movement technique to escape the clearing on his injured leg, but his desperate attempt failed. At every step he took, an arrow shot ahead of him, forcing him to change direction again and again.

The archery of the Guangdong Jin Clan was as amazing as the rumors said. There was no gap between shots; it was as if a new arrow was nocked the instant one was loosed. With hidden arrows flying at a dizzying pace, he was hard-pressed just to dodge, let alone attack.

The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha wasn't idle either. Fearing he might lose the initiative, he charged in like a madman, swinging his massive Zen staff, which had to weigh at least eighty catties.

Each time the enormous weapon cut through the air, a terrifying sound of displaced air followed. The sheer force of it felt like it could shatter bones with a mere glancing blow. Though a swordsman, Jung Yeom-cheon, with his half-sword, didn't dare to face it head-on. No matter how precious his sword was, clashing with such a weapon would surely disrupt his internal energy.

But they were not the only ones attacking him. Unable to just watch the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, Jin Gung-in himself joined the fray. As a result, their assault took on a peculiar form. Both the Evil Buddha and Jin Gung-in would try to kill Jung Yeom-cheon, but if one seemed to be gaining the upper hand, the other would unhesitatingly attack their rival, thus saving Jung Yeom-cheon's life. It became a chaotic affair of trying to kill him with their own hands while simultaneously preventing the other from doing so.

Like a shrimp caught between warring whales, Jung Yeom-cheon struggled to navigate their attacks. The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha was indeed a transcendent master as rumored, and Jin Gung-in, as the stories went, had also reached the transcendent realm. It was only because their skills were evenly matched that Jung Yeom-cheon hadn't been torn to shreds already.

Soon, Jung Yeom-cheon was a wretched sight. His clothes were torn by sharp fist winds, and his body was swollen and bruised from glancing blows of the staff. Although he had never been hit directly, thanks to the two transcendent masters keeping each other in check, his body was in even worse shape because of it.

Jung Yeom-cheon felt like he could vomit blood at his unbelievably pathetic state. How had the great Old Ghost of the Severed Sword ended up in such a state? He had roamed the Jianghu alone, relying on a single sword, only to be cornered like a singed dog by these men at the very end.

Faced with such a colossal battle between transcendent and peak masters, the other onlookers dared not approach. Many had followed Tang Won-cho out of greed for the treasure or hopes of a lucky break, but watching the brutal clash of true masters sent shivers down their spines.

If they had caught Tang Won-cho before Jung Yeom-cheon, they might have been in the same predicament. The only difference between them and Jung Yeom-cheon was that they had been unlucky, and he had been lucky. The old saying about the unpredictable nature of fortune seemed to be made for moments like this.

Thinking that they too could face such a fate at any moment, they even began to feel a sense of camaraderie with Jung Yeom-cheon in his plight.

“My, you’re all making this so complicated.”

In the midst of this situation, yet another master appeared on the scene.

This time, it was a woman. She was not only stunningly beautiful but also dressed in a unique fashion that drew all eyes to her even as she stood still.

She wore a Tang-style blouse that revealed more than half of her alabaster chest, and a fine silk shawl was draped over her smooth shoulders. Her hair was styled in a high coiffure, topped with a silk peony coronet. Her eyebrows were painted like the wings of a silkworm, and a decorative flower mark was placed between them—the complete attire of a Tang Dynasty noblewoman. With her voluptuous, ripe figure and such an outfit, she instantly brought to mind the legendary beauty Yang Guifei.

As the fragrant woman appeared with a graceful sway, she touched a hand to her fair cheek and sighed delicately. The lecherous Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha began to steal glances at her. Jin Gung-in, recognizing her attire, frowned slightly with displeasure. But despite their contrasting reactions, the woman simply smiled sweetly.

“Who are you?”

The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, still unable to identify her, couldn't contain his curiosity and blurted out the question. The woman, her fair fingers still touching her cheek, let out a clear, coquettish laugh and spoke to him.

“The people of the Jianghu call this little sister the Iron Demoness. But you, big brother, may simply call me Ahwa.”

Her introduction was the very picture of coquetry, but upon hearing her name, the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha's expression darkened.

The Iron Demoness was a notorious temptress who had been declared a public enemy of the Jianghu. She looked to be barely thirty, but in reality, she was an old woman nearing eighty, even older than the Evil Buddha himself.

She maintained her flawless appearance by draining the vital essence of countless men between her legs. Her beauty was like that of a praying mantis; no man who fell into her embrace ever left it alive.

`Damn it. The Qilin Plaque is drawing out all sorts of monsters. Even the Iron Demoness has shown up.`

Knowing how terrifying her art of draining life force was, the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha cursed inwardly.

The rumors said she had been captured by the Righteous Path Alliance after being declared a public enemy and imprisoned in the Black Demon Prison, but it seemed those were all lies. The fact that an eighty-year-old hag’s skin was so taut was proof enough. If her martial arts had ever been crippled, it would be impossible for her to still have such skin.

The Iron Demoness, Gi Il-hwa, watched with delight as the fight came to a halt with her arrival. She adored seeing others, especially the arrogant masters who roamed the Jianghu as they pleased, fear her. Their reactions fueled her powerful desire for control.

With a possessiveness so strong that she killed every man she slept with, hating for them to leave, she loved to confirm her influence in this way.

“Senior Iron Demoness, have you also come for the Qilin Plaque?”

Jin Gung-in, being from the righteous path, did not like temptresses like the Iron Demoness. But he couldn't treat a master rumored to have surpassed the manifestation realm with disrespect, so he maintained a semblance of politeness. The Iron Demoness shot a peevish look at the old man who called her ‘senior.’

`Who is this old man with his graying hair calling ‘senior’?`

Feeling as if she'd been insulted, she glared at Jin Gung-in, then turned her head with a haughty sniff.

“Is there anyone here who isn’t interested in the Qilin Plaque? I don’t understand why you ask such an obvious question.”

Though she had been all sweetness and charm with the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, she was as cold as ice to Jin Gung-in. But Jin Gung-in was actually relieved by her attitude. More than a few men had lost not just their internal energy but their lives after catching the eye of this temptress. Being ignored like this was far more comforting than being noticed and ending up as one of her victims.

“I caught this one. I won’t forgive you for sauntering in late and trying to cut in line!”

The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, more impatient than Jin Gung-in, bared his teeth, wary that she might snatch his prize. With the Iron Demoness’s arrival on top of Jin Gung-in and the Evil Buddha, Jung Yeom-cheon, having lost all will to escape, simply stood there, looking utterly lost. His appearance, already pathetic, was now that of a beggar who had lost his soul.

“Oh, big brother, don't misunderstand. As if I would show up late and steal the fruits of your labor. I simply wish for a less troublesome situation for everyone. I know a way that will benefit all three of us.”

Melting the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha’s wariness with a voice as sweet as dripping honey, the Iron Demoness pointed a silvery finger at Jung Yeom-cheon and added softly.

“But to do that, I need that man’s head first. Is there anyone here who would like to gift me his head?”

Though her words were a request for a gift, a finger wind shot from her hand as she spoke. The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, who had let his guard down for a moment due to her gentle demeanor, roared with fury as he saw the finger wind pierce the forehead of the dazed Jung Yeom-cheon. Jin Gung-in also clicked his tongue with a grim expression. This was a classic case of doing all the work just for someone else to reap the rewards.

“Damn it! This stinking wench used a trick to make me let my guard down!”

Unable to control his foul temper, the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha swung his staff wildly. Faced with his ferocious charge, as if he were about to attack her at any moment, the Iron Demoness feigned a shrinking posture and a woeful expression.

“I already told you. What I’m about to do will benefit all three of us. If you want to be angry, at least hear me out first.”

“What honeyed lies is this temptress trying to spin now? Do you think I’m foolish enough to be tricked again?”

“Oh my. You really don’t trust people, do you? Calm down. Or do I have to be the one to calm you down?”

Though the Iron Demoness still whispered pitifully with a shrunken posture, her words held a clear warning. The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha was furious at her audacious attitude, but he had no choice but to hold back. As angry as he was, he couldn't fight the Iron Demoness here. If she were the last enemy, he might risk it, but behind her stood another powerful foe. He couldn’t act rashly.

Just a moment ago, Jung Yeom-cheon was the cicada, but a misstep could turn him into one as well. There were already three transcendent masters here. Who knew who else might show up?

“It’s nice when it’s quiet. It’s easier to organize my thoughts. Hey. You there, the one with the big eyes. Yes, you.”

The Iron Demoness beckoned with a fingertip to the most handsome warrior among the Jin Clan members. The warrior glanced at his master, and only after Jin Gung-in, who had decided to watch her actions unfold, gave a nod of permission, did he reluctantly step forward.

“Listen carefully and do exactly as I say. If you try any funny business I didn't ask for, I won't let it slide.”

“...Understood.”

“First, cut off Jung Yeom-cheon’s head and take it to Tang Won-cho. Then he will give you the Qilin Plaque.”

The Iron Demoness issued her command with the same saccharine tone. Jin Gung-in, who had been watching her closely, voiced his confusion.

“He’ll give us the Qilin Plaque? Didn’t he say he would tell us its location? He said with his own mouth that he doesn’t have it on him.”

“Oh my. How naive. That was obviously a lie. Does the great Head Jin truly believe that a dying man cannot tell a lie?”

Jin Gung-in had asked a serious question, but the Iron Demoness replied teasingly, her voice full of laughter. When he failed to understand her short reply, she was forced to explain her command.

“It’s a simple matter, really. Tang Won-cho has been chased ever since he got his hands on the Qilin Plaque. First, he was pressed for time, and then he was chased by people. He ran without a moment’s rest, so he wouldn’t have had time to hide it. Therefore, the treasure must still be in his possession. If Jung Yeom-cheon had just slit his throat and searched him as soon as he caught him, he would still be alive. A thousand considerations, a single mistake, I suppose? The problem was that he thought too much.”

She spoke with the confidence of someone who had seen it all herself. Jin Gung-in, who had fully believed Tang Won-cho’s story, began to have his doubts. At his command, the Jin Clan warrior did as he was told.

“Serves you right, Jung Yeom-cheon. I bet you never thought it would end like this.”

When the warrior brought Jung Yeom-cheon’s severed head to Tang Won-cho, a sudden light returned to his blackened face. It was not a sign of recovery, but the final, fleeting rally of a dying man.

The warrior ignored him, knelt down, and searched his robes. Tang Won-cho let him search freely, his unfocused eyes staring toward the Iron Demoness.

“Thank you, Senior Iron Demoness. You have resolved a dying man’s grudge.”

Though her intentions were far from noble, being praised was a pleasant thing, so the Iron Demoness smiled sweetly. The warrior, having trouble finding the item, fumbled around inside the robes. Feeling the searching hands, Tang Won-cho muttered as if to himself.

“Lower… at the waist…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence as his voice trailed off. The light faded from his bloodshot eyes, and the gurgling foam subsided into a thin trickle of blood. He had managed to get his revenge on the man who had put him in this state, so perhaps he died without regret, but it was an all-too-hollow end for a human life.

The Jin Clan warrior searched the last place he mentioned and found a palm-sized jade tablet. The intricate carving of a Qilin was so delicate that one look was enough to tell it was no ordinary object.

“I think I found it!” the warrior shouted excitedly. This one item had made him travel thousands of li from Guangdong to Hebei. The forest, which had been watching them in silence, stirred. The Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha, unable to contain his agitation, leaned forward, and Jin Gung-in’s expression also changed as he stared at the object in the warrior's hand.

“Nobody move closer to that item. The first one to make a rash move will be the first one I attack.”

The only person in the clearing who maintained her composure was the Iron Demoness. She issued a cold warning to everyone, then turned to the warrior holding the Qilin Plaque.

“Look at the back, not the front with the Qilin. Are there any pictures or characters carved there?”

At her question, the warrior hastily checked the back.

“Y-yes. There’s something here.”

“Excellent. Can you feel the engravings clearly?”

“Yes.”

The warrior’s face was flushed red, seemingly excited by the fact that he was holding the treasure of Cheonma. A sweet smile on her face, the Iron Demoness took a piece of paper from her sleeve and tossed it at his feet.

The warrior stared blankly at the white paper, and when the Iron Demoness gestured for him to pick it up, he obediently did so.

“To be honest, I don’t need the Qilin Plaque itself. Even if I summoned Cheonma himself, he’s not the type to be swayed by a woman’s charms. All I want is a rubbing of the Qilin Plaque. If the three of us here share the rubbing equally, there’s no need to fight, is there?”

To the men who had been blindly obsessed with the Qilin Plaque itself, she presented an ingenious solution. For those seeking the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault, the tablet itself was meaningless. Only the map leading to the treasury mattered.

As if a fog had lifted from their minds, the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha and Jin Gung-in slapped their knees. That’s right. There was such a way.

Come to think of it, making rubbings offered a double benefit. First, they could obtain the map to the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault as they wished. Second, they could avoid becoming the sole target of the entire Jianghu by being the owner of the complete Qilin Plaque.

It was far safer to be one of three owners of a divided item than to be the sole owner of one, hunted by hundreds or even thousands of people. If attention was divided in such a way, the number of pursuers would naturally decrease.

This new method proposed by the Iron Demoness was far more appealing than dying a dog’s death without ever even setting foot in the treasury. Even if they had to face each other again inside the treasury to decide life and death, it was a better outcome than doing so right now.

With the enthusiastic agreement of the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha and Jin Gung-in, a rubbing of the Qilin Plaque was made. Each taking one copy, they shattered the original tablet without a second thought and scattered in three different directions.

The pursuers, who had been chasing a single object, were now unable to easily choose a direction and milled about in place. They racked their brains, trying to decide who would be the most profitable to follow, and whose trail would be the safest.

From this point on, the commotion surrounding the Qilin Plaque took on a different aspect.

The movement to seize the Qilin Plaque at all costs transformed into a pursuit of the three individuals heading for the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault. With the original tablet gone, their only way to find the treasury was to follow one of the three. The power of the Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon, backed by the name of Cheonma himself, once again began to shake the world.

***

“Brother Guan, over here!”

As Munpyeong appeared for breakfast, Baek Woo-gyeong waved to him from the lower floor. It seemed he was the last to wake up, as most of the tables were already filled with guests. The space was already small, and with people packed in so tightly, it looked like a can of sardines.

The inn they were staying at was the largest in Nanyang, but it was still a tight squeeze for a party of over fifty. Mismatched tables, clearly borrowed from neighbors, had been set up, making the place not only cramped but also lacking in clear walkways.

He would have preferred to just find an empty seat anywhere and eat whatever was served rather than squeeze through that mess. But he couldn’t ignore Baek Woo-gyeong, who was waving so insistently.

With no other choice, Munpyeong squeezed through the narrow passage toward Baek Woo-gyeong’s table. At that table, reserved for the leaders of the group, sat not only Baek Woo-gyeong but also Cheonma and the Broken-Faced Wanderer.

“How are you feeling? Are you better?”

As soon as he finally reached the table and sat down, Baek Woo-gyeong asked after his well-being instead of a morning greeting. The previous day, Munpyeong had disappeared, practically carried away by Cheonma, and hadn't been seen since. It was natural for Baek Woo-gyeong, as the leader of the tracking party, to be concerned.

Munpyeong forced down a blush and smiled silently. He’d had… an incident with Cheonma yesterday, which made this topic awkward, but he had no way of explaining it to the oblivious Baek Woo-gyeong, leaving him at a loss.

“I’m fine. Thanks to your concern, I’m much better.”

“Ah, that’s a relief. It seems Great Warrior Yun’s acupressure treatment was effective.”

“...Of course. It was very effective.”

Munpyeong muttered, recalling the acupressure that had jolted not just his body but his very soul. Cheonma, who should have had something to say by now, remained silent.

Was he still angry? Or was he just trying to ignore it? Munpyeong, who had never once been able to read Cheonma’s mind, was curious about his impassive expression but couldn't fathom his thoughts.

As if the order had been placed for everyone at once, rice and soup arrived without any special request. Munpyeong picked up his chopsticks and began his breakfast.

The side dishes were simple, as they were expecting to ride all day again. Just a few simply stir-fried vegetables and a lightly oiled fish dish. The meal seemed carefully planned to avoid anything that might cause indigestion.

“Still, I’m worried. You haven’t fully recovered from your injuries, and from now on, it will be a forced march every day. You might harm your health if you push yourself like this.”

Even if he was fine now, the daily fatigue could accumulate and lead to illness. An injury that would heal easily with rest could become a chronic problem if mismanaged. As a martial artist, Baek Woo-gyeong knew this better than anyone and was worried for Munpyeong.

He was likely concerned for his health, as he said, but also worried that Munpyeong might slow down the group. While he could understand both possibilities, Munpyeong couldn’t give him the reassurance he was probably hoping for.

“Even so, we only have three days left of our journey. No matter how low my energy is, I can certainly endure that much.”

How dare you think of leaving me behind when my body is in this state? If you were going to abandon me halfway, why did you bring me in the first place? He smiled sweetly, his face conveying an unspoken pressure. Baek Woo-gyeong, who seemed to have more to say, found himself unable to open his mouth.

If it had been Cheonma, he would have bullied and pressured his way to get what he wanted. It was a relief that Baek Woo-gyeong, despite sharing the same bloodline, didn't resemble him in that regard.

“Do not worry, Great Warrior Baek. I brought him along on my own insistence, so I will take responsibility for him. He will not interfere with our journey in any way.”

Cheonma, who had been silently observing their exchange, quietly intervened and settled the matter. At first glance, it sounded like he was simply defending Munpyeong, but on closer listening, one could feel an unyielding wall in his words.

In blunter terms, his words could be summarized as ‘don’t meddle.’ Baek Woo-gyeong, looking awkward, cleared his throat softly. Jo Se-hwa, witnessing his friend and lord being embarrassed, couldn't hide his displeasure and looked back and forth between the two.

“My words were not just about the schedule. If there was any room for misunderstanding in what I said, I apologize.”

Baek Woo-gyeong, who never lost his manners, adjusted his robes and bowed his head respectfully. Cheonma received the apology with a silent nod.

Normally, he’s great at empty pleasantries, but what’s with him today? Munpyeong stared at Cheonma in surprise at his uncharacteristically direct attitude.

It seemed the man had forgotten whose skin he was wearing. How was anyone supposed to react when he acted like Cheonma while wearing Yun Seung-hyo’s face?

“Oh, by the way, Master. We haven’t heard today’s destination yet. How far are we going today?”

Thanks to Cheonma’s unusually cold attitude, which had dampened the mood, the conversation at the table had died down. After a period of silence, one of the party members, unable to bear it any longer, spoke up, trying to steer the conversation to a brighter topic.

The one who took the initiative to lighten the mood was Jo Su-ran, the sole woman at this table full of dark-clad men. She was a young lady of only nineteen, yet she had already reached the first-rate level of martial arts and possessed a clear and kind-hearted nature.

As their surnames suggested, she and Jo Se-hwa were related. They were cousins, but the age gap between them was so large that Jo Se-hwa secretly thought of her more like a niece.

“We plan to reach Xinxiang today.”

Unable to ignore the young lady’s efforts, Baek Woo-gyeong replied with a calm smile. Though he had been publicly embarrassed, there was no trace of resentment; the man's every action was as calm and composed as flowing water.

How could such a proper person come from Cheonma’s family? Munpyeong, who held a prejudice against Cheonma’s tenacious bloodline, marveled at the sight.

It must be a matter of upbringing. The same blood, when raised by the Demonic Cult, becomes Cheonma, and when raised by the righteous path, becomes Baek Woo-gyeong. Thinking about it, the importance of education seemed all the more profound. The story of Mencius's mother moving three times wasn't for nothing, it seemed.

“Wow! Then we’ll be crossing almost the entire Henan province in a single day. But can the horses endure such a journey, even if the people can?”

The kind-hearted Jo Su-ran, upon hearing Baek Woo-gyeong’s answer, immediately worried about the horses. Her party was composed of internal energy masters with deep reserves, so unless there was a special case like Munpyeong, the people were unlikely to be harmed. But she doubted that mere animals could withstand such a forced march.

“Haha. Miss Jo, you need not worry. The horses we are riding are Dawan horses. The legendary Dayuan Ferghana horse that Wang Shuang rode in the old days was one of these. They are not the sweat-blood horses of legend that bleed crimson sweat, nor can they run a thousand li in a day, but Dawan horses are faster and have more stamina than any other breed. Otherwise, how could they dare be called by the nickname Cheonma, the Heavenly Horse?”

“Oh, so Dawan horses are also called Cheonma?”

“That’s right. Cheonma is one of the most common nicknames for a Dawan horse.”

“So we’re riding ‘Cheonma’?”

“Now that you mention it, I suppose we are.”

This Cheonma was certainly not *that* Cheonma, but because the words sounded the same, there was plenty of room for a double meaning. Baek Woo-gyeong and Jo Su-ran were just making light banter, but a cold sweat broke out on the back of Munpyeong, who knew the whole truth.

This is why one should never speak carelessly. The birds hear the words of the day, the mice hear the words of the night, and Cheonma hears the words about Cheonma. Feeling like he was watching children set off firecrackers next to a powder keg, Munpyeong’s heart sank.

They had no idea whose presence they were in, casually mentioning Cheonma’s name. Do you really want to ride Cheonma? If that actually happened, you’d be the ones crying your eyes out.

“Even as a joke, you shouldn't speak of such things so carelessly. Have you not heard what happened to the Blue and White Birds of the Righteous Sword Sect in Xinjiang recently? You must remember that there are always ears listening, no matter where you are.”

It seemed Munpyeong wasn’t the only one displeased with their dangerous joke. Jo Se-hwa, his brow furrowed, stepped in and admonished the two.

Knowing that Jo Se-hwa was a strict man of principle who never strayed from the righteous path, both of them shrank back at his warning.

“I’m sorry.”

After a small apology, Jo Su-ran met Baek Woo-gyeong’s eyes and smiled faintly. Baek Woo-gyeong also closed his mouth, but the corners of his eyes softened. He was forty-one this year, making the age difference between him and the young Jo Su-ran almost that of a father and son. But they seemed so comfortable with each other that the gap was barely noticeable.

Although it ended with Jo Se-hwa’s scolding, the banter between the two had lightened the mood at the table considerably. After finishing breakfast with intermittent conversation and casual chat, the party agreed to get ready in their rooms and gather again. Another day of riding Cheonma—the Heavenly Horses, that is—had begun.

Munpyeong headed to the stables with grim determination. At least he had yesterday’s experience, so he wouldn't be caught completely off guard. He would channel his internal energy from the start and change his posture from time to time. Steeling himself, he looked for his horse, only to stop in his tracks when he saw Cheonma leading two horses at once.

Next to a pure white steed that seemed specially chosen stood his own red horse. Though it was a red horse, it wasn't a magnificent crimson like Red Hare, but a reddish-brown with patches of brown fur.

Cheonma stood in the middle of the stables with the grace of a nobleman out for a stroll, slowly fanning himself with a folding fan as he looked directly at him.

`What new trick is this?`

Having suffered at Cheonma’s hands more than once, Munpyeong’s guard went up reflexively.

“Is something the matter, Great Warrior Yun? Isn’t that my horse?”

Fortunately, he wasn't alone in the stables; many others from the party were there as well. Munpyeong deliberately raised his voice to draw attention as he approached Cheonma.

Cheonma’s blue eyes narrowed as if in amusement. His features were clearly Yun Seung-hyo’s, yet he displayed a peculiar talent for freely expressing both Yun Seung-hyo's and Cheonma’s expressions on that face. Looking at him, it felt like watching a Bian Lian face-changing performance. If he had the nerve to find it amusing, he could have watched that face all day without getting bored.

“I said I would take responsibility, so I must. I am not a man who makes empty promises, Brother Guan.”

Cheonma smoothly replied to Munpyeong’s question. As expected, Cheonma never wasted a word. He would say something casually, then use it to corner a person, leaving them no room to move.

`No, perhaps he said it with this intention from the very beginning. When have I ever seen him act without a plan?`

Munpyeong stood rooted to the spot, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation. But Cheonma had already made his declaration in front of everyone. With a legitimate reason on his side, his somewhat forceful actions would be understood. No matter how much Munpyeong thought about it, there was no escape. And Cheonma wouldn’t let him.

He grabbed Munpyeong’s arm and lifted him onto a horse. Not Munpyeong’s red horse, but his own white one.

`What? Was his solution to switch horses?`

Confused about what he was up to, Munpyeong was stunned when Cheonma mounted the horse behind him.

`W-wait? Why are two people riding one horse? It’s not like we’re short on horses, and we have to ride all day again today!`

“Wait a minute, something’s not right. Is this your plan?”

With two grown men on its back, even a fine steed couldn't possibly maintain its speed. The horse would naturally be slower, making it even harder to keep up with the group.

If that happened, his promise that he wouldn't hinder the journey would become meaningless. What was this man thinking?

“Do not worry. The horse will only feel the weight of one person.”

Hearing Munpyeong’s concern, Cheonma spoke with confidence. Then he wrapped his arms around Munpyeong’s waist and took the reins himself.

Since he was in Yun Seung-hyo’s body, their heights were similar, making the posture a bit ridiculous. With both of them sitting up straight and the person in the back holding the reins, the one holding the reins couldn’t see ahead.

“Don’t sit up so straight. Lean back comfortably. You can lean against my chest.”

To make matters worse, Cheonma made a bizarre request. Hearing his words, Munpyeong’s face flushed bright red.

They weren’t a pair of affectionate lovers. Riding a horse while leaning into the arms of the person behind you was absurd. How awful would that look to others? Munpyeong himself didn't want to see two men in such a pose.

“Why are you making such an unreasonable request? How am I supposed to ride a horse in that position?”

“A person can do anything if they set their mind to it. Stop being difficult and help me take responsibility for my words.”

When Munpyeong resisted, Cheonma bared his pearly white teeth and spoke sweetly. It seemed that was Yun Seung-hyo’s way of saying, You’re being incredibly difficult. Get over here and do as I say, now.

As Munpyeong was about to refuse again, he saw Cheonma’s fingers moving meaningfully. His fingers hovered over the Zhangmen acupoint near Munpyeong’s waist, gleaming with the intent to press the pressure point and force him to comply if he didn't listen.

Weak to violence and threats, Munpyeong had no choice but to surrender. If he resisted and had his pressure points pressed, knowing Cheonma’s personality, he might be left in an even more embarrassing position. Reluctantly, he did as he was told and leaned his back against Yun Seung-hyo’s chest.

The people in the stables, who were busy preparing their horses, stared at them with wide eyes. Humiliated but unable to say anything, Munpyeong, his face burning, turned his head away and pretended not to notice the stares.

Cheonma, who had completely shed his shame by wearing someone else's face, nonchalantly took the reins and guided the horse forward. Baek Woo-gyeong, just then emerging from the inn, saw them and his mouth fell open in surprise. Jo Su-ran, following beside him, was also quite shocked, her round eyes wide and unblinking as she stared.

“Wh-what in the…?”

So surprised was he that the eloquent Baek Woo-gyeong was at a loss for words. As if a cat had gotten his tongue, he stood there speechless. Cheonma turned to him and declared his intentions with a gentle demeanor.

“As you can see, I am taking full responsibility.”

Was *that* what he meant by responsibility? The word ‘responsibility’ had such a broad range of meanings that Munpyeong found it difficult to grasp Cheonma’s true intent. Cheonma had done so many things to Munpyeong that required taking responsibility that he couldn't even tell which one this was for.

Clinging to each other in a posture as intimate as a newlywed couple, the two trotted past the frozen crowd, the sound of hooves echoing.

“...Could you just press my pressure points instead?”

Realizing that reality was far more shocking than he had imagined, Munpyeong asked Cheonma. Cheonma let out a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest and shook his head nonchalantly.

“No. What fun is there in carrying an unconscious man? I’m going to all this trouble for you, so I should at least have some enjoyment out of it.”

It was truly impossible to make Cheonma understand common sense. Munpyeong, once again regretting how he had gotten involved with such a man, dropped his head in despair.

Excluding the shameful posture, Cheonma’s prescription was certainly effective.

Munpyeong realized this less than half a day after they set out. They had been riding at a similar pace to yesterday since morning, yet his back didn't hurt at all. He was distributing half his weight to Cheonma, and he wasn’t holding the reins himself. His lower back ached from being on a horse for so long, but that was tolerable.

Cheonma’s equestrian skills were superb. It was unclear if martial arts helped in handling a horse, but Munpyeong had never seen someone handle a horse so freely.

He rode as if he had been born on horseback, calm and comfortable. The ride was smooth with minimal vibration, and his posture was so stable that Munpyeong, leaning against him, fell into the same rhythm. His claim that the horse wouldn’t feel his weight must have been true, as the horse’s speed, despite carrying two people, was nearly the same as the others.

At first, the party members had looked at them strangely, but soon their gazes turned to admiration. They had never seen someone ride a horse like this before. The stares, as if they were looking at a strange animal, diminished considerably. They had concluded that while the posture was unique, there must be a good reason for it, and left it at that.

“Where did you learn to ride a horse like this?”

Cheonma couldn't have been born with every skill. He must have put in effort, and surely faced difficulties in the process. But he had so many talents that sometimes, even such an obvious fact seemed doubtful.

It was difficult enough for a person to become skilled in one thing, but this man had too much. It was as if his head was so full of talents that things like humanity and common sense had overflowed and been lost.

“I learned from my late father.”

“Your late father? Do you mean the previous Cult Leader?”

Publicly, Cheonma was known as the son of the previous Cult Leader, the Wind Chime Demon Lord, Hyeokryeon Mu-gi. Only fellow members of the Demonic Cult knew he was adopted. Munpyeong, having been in the cult for a long time, also knew this. That was why he didn't know which of the two Cheonma was referring to.

Hearing Munpyeong’s question, a crooked smile appeared on Cheonma’s lips.

`Ha. Father.`

In Cheonma’s opinion, Hyeokryeon Mu-gi was not worthy of such a title.

“Not a chance. He was my master, but never my father.”

In truth, he was more of a martial arts instructor than a master, but not wanting to elaborate, Cheonma left it at that.

“Then your birth father?”

The biological parents of Cheonma and the Sword Saint, heroes representing the demonic and righteous paths respectively. It was hard to imagine. No matter how he tried, he could only picture either god-like beings or monsters with three heads and six arms. This was partly due to Munpyeong’s lack of imagination, but also because of the immense reputation of their children.

Indeed, they were already heroes of the world before Munpyeong was even born. Both Cheonma and the Sword Saint had made their names long ago. To think of the parents who were the beginning of such figures felt almost like reaching back to the origin of time itself.

“Yes. My late father.”

“Was your father a skilled horseman?”

“Our family ran a horse stable. Back then, the Baek Family Manor was famous as the best stable in Gansu.”

Cheonma shared his old story without any hesitation.

He had never spoken of his childhood to anyone before. They were not pleasant memories to end on, so he rarely reminisced. But for some reason, today, talking about it didn't darken his mood. Instead, memories of a carefree and happy childhood surfaced, bringing a gentle smile to his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had recalled his childhood with such a light heart.

“Ah, I’ve heard of the Baek Family Manor. It was a famous stable back in the day. Stories about it are still told in the Yumen Pass.”

Munpyeong, who was born and raised in the barracks of Yumen Pass, had heard many old tales from the older soldiers. Among those tales, as he had said, there were certainly mentions of the Baek Family Manor.

The number one complaint among soldiers was always supplies. As times grew tense, the soldiers would complain that supplies weren't coming in as they used to, even on the border. They would reminisce, saying, "The best times were when the Baek Family Manor supplied the horses and the Hwajong Ironworks supplied the weapons."

At the time, he didn't know when the Baek Family Manor had existed and just took it as it was. But now he realized it had been nearly seventy years ago, a distant past. None of the soldiers who had complained could have actually seen a horse supplied by them.

It seemed that even such complaints were passed down through generations, he thought with a slight smile. It was a habitual complaint for soldiers, so the names of the Baek Family Manor and the Hwajong Ironworks had probably become like idioms.

“Is that so? After all this time, there are still people who remember that place?”

“Yes, quite a few. Though it seems they heard the stories from their elders rather than remembering it themselves.”

But among those people, none knew that two peerless masters had come from the Baek Family Manor.

“...But I heard that place was mysteriously wiped out. What happened? The vast stables were all reduced to ashes overnight, and even the horses disappeared, causing a huge uproar, right? I heard there were even grim rumors that it was the work of Mongolian tribes after the horses.”

Racking his memory for rumors about the Baek Family Manor, Munpyeong tilted his head, belatedly realizing that the place had suffered a devastating massacre.

He had heard that the Sword Saint was very young when his family was annihilated and he entered Kunlun. Considering that, the Baek Family Manor must have been destroyed at least a full sixty-year cycle ago.

How could such a large stable, one that supplied horses to the state, have met such a tragic end? Munpyeong couldn't solve the mystery that arose in his mind. Even though Gansu province was a border region, it was still within the Yumen Pass. He couldn't understand how such a thing could have happened.

“That’s how the Demonic Cult operates. If you want to keep what you’ve done a secret from others, you must be thorough in cleaning up afterwards.”

“What does that…?”

“It means that even with the cult's scattered power back then, they were capable of orchestrating such an event.”

Munpyeong, not fully grasping Cheonma’s meaning, blinked for a moment. Then, very slowly, as if in a daze, he understood what he was saying.

`What! What did he say? The ones who wiped out Cheonma’s family were none other than the Demonic Cult?`

Realizing the truth, Munpyeong felt his vision swim. He wondered what kind of story this was. From Cheonma’s occasional remarks, he knew his past was unusual, but he had never dreamed that such a shocking story was hidden within it.

`W-wait a minute. Then all those mysterious deaths when Cheonma rose to the position of Cult Leader… was that a purge? There were so many strange deaths back then that rumors of a mysterious plague were spreading.`

Among those who died strangely at that time were Hyeokryeon Mu-gi, Hyeokryeon Sang’s adoptive father, and his wife, Gam Gyo-ryeong. As far as Munpyeong knew, Hyeokryeon Mu-gi had died suddenly, and his wife followed him less than a year later. But no clear cause of death was ever found for either of them, leading to much hushed gossip.

An unexpected truth was hidden in an old story he had only known as a strange affair. Knowing this made a chill run down his spine. How many more secrets were hidden in the countless stories exchanged over drinks?

All the words he had carelessly spoken, thinking they were just someone else’s stories, now felt rash. A proper judgment on such matters could only be made after knowing not just the surface events, but the stories behind them as well.

`Why is this man’s life so tragic? Why is every story he has so far from ordinary?`

Munpyeong, who usually stumbled and struggled under the weight of each secret Cheonma threw at him, couldn't dare to think such thoughts this time. Imagining the impact the annihilation of his family had on Cheonma’s life, he felt sorry for even complaining.

He himself had been an orphan from birth, but Cheonma had been a person who grew up happily under good parents. After his family was suddenly wiped out by his own sect, what thoughts must have gone through the young Cheonma’s mind as he grew up?

Considering the environment he grew up in, it was pitiful. He was raised by the man who killed his parents, and must have had to call his enemy ‘father’ every day.

It takes decades for a child to become an adult. Cheonma had to endure that long, long time alone. And did he find peace after taking his revenge? Unlikely.

The targets of his revenge were none other than his adoptive father and mother. He had killed the people who, though they hadn't given him birth, had raised him. It is never easy to draw a sword against those to whom you are bound by apprenticeship and personal ties. Munpyeong couldn’t even begin to imagine what Cheonma must have been thinking at the time.

The more he thought about it, the more complicated the tangled web of fate seemed. A vicious fate, hard to find anywhere else. Only after learning this could Munpyeong understand why the Cheonma of today was such a twisted person. A person who had gone through such things could not be the same as an ordinary person. Nature may be innate, but it is time that forges character.

Munpyeong couldn't bear the heaviness in his heart and let out a low sigh. A thoughtless word had created ripples in his heart. The more he learned about Cheonma, the more he realized that this man was not whole.

His talent reached the heavens, and his brilliance was peerless, but his heart had too many knots. His twisted character, like a gnarled tree, was perhaps because those knots remained as scars.

“It’s all in the past. Why sigh now?”

Seeing Munpyeong become overly somber from a single word he'd spoken, Cheonma looked down at him with an uninterested expression and chided him lightly.

Thanks to Munpyeong, he had been in a good mood, recalling pleasant memories. But the topic of the massacre had come up, bringing back things he didn't want to think about and ruining his good mood. Considering he had almost never had the chance to recall his childhood with pure joy, it was a truly precious opportunity lost.

Munpyeong rested the back of his head on Cheonma’s shoulder and gazed at the distant mountains. This man, who became unknown the moment you thought you finally understood him, was a mystery even when they were this close.

A man who was both Hyeokryeon Sang and Yun Seung-hyo. A man who was both Cheonma and Baek Un-gang. There were many names to call him, but none of them could accurately describe him.

“Does it get forgotten just because it’s in the past?”

Munpyeong asked, genuinely curious.

“Because it’s in the past, there’s no need to forget it.”

“Doesn’t it weigh on you, to carry so much in your heart?”

“The weight of the heart is what you make of it, isn't it? If you think it’s heavy, it’s heavy. If you think it’s light, it’s endlessly light.”

Cheonma spoke so simply of things most people couldn’t easily say. Munpyeong smiled bitterly. What an incredible person. Terrifying, difficult, and sometimes, impossible to understand.

“...If you don’t mind, please tell me more about your childhood. I want to hear it.”

For the first time, Munpyeong found himself curious not about Yun Seung-hyo, but about Cheonma. He didn't know what kind of feeling prompted this curiosity, but he wanted to know him, even just a little more.

Cheonma looked down at Munpyeong with a surprised expression and tilted his head. It seemed he couldn't guess his intentions.

“What’s this all of a sudden? Are you asking your old man to tell you a bedtime story?”

“Just tell me about your ordinary childhood. I grew up on the battlefield, so I don’t know how children in the world grow up. I see them in passing, but you can learn very little just by looking.”

“An ordinary childhood, huh? I don’t know what fun there would be in that. Should I tell you about setting a horse’s tail on fire, or putting glue on a horseshoe?”

“Even stories like that are fine. ...But, did you really do those things?”

“Of course I did. There was a wretched horse in our stable that just wouldn’t be broken. It had excellent stock and would have become a world-class steed if only it could be tamed, but it was so damn disobedient that all the trainers in the stable suffered. I tried to ride it once and got a nasty kick. My arm was broken, and I was laid up for three months. So I decided to get my revenge.”

As if yielding to Munpyeong’s urging, Cheonma once again sank into his old memories. Munpyeong leaned his back against him and listened quietly to the story he told. He had asked for a story of an ordinary childhood, and Cheonma truly began to unravel the memories of that time.

Munpyeong found it hard to believe that even someone like Cheonma had had such a childhood, but the story itself was fascinating.

Listening to the story of a childhood he could never have, Munpyeong felt a faint nostalgia. It wasn’t a feeling he had experienced himself, but rather as if he were sharing in the longing of Cheonma as he recounted his old memories.

If the Baek Family Manor had not burned down that day, and if Cheonma had not become the leader of the Demonic Cult, the two of them would not be here today, sharing old stories side by side. Thinking about it, the connections between people were truly strange. Not good or bad… just strange.

***

When they arrived in Xinxiang, the chief of the Zhengzhou branch of the Henan province was there in person to deliver an urgent message. Zhengzhou was a place they had passed on their way, but the branch chief, fearing he might slow them down, had instead ridden ahead to Xinxiang to wait for them.

At his urgent summons, the party headed to the Righteous Path Alliance’s safe house without even dusting off the dirt that had accumulated on their heads. Munpyeong, who had maintained his energy after a full day of riding thanks to Cheonma, found himself attending the leadership meeting due to Cheonma’s insistence on not leaving him behind.

Five people were seated to receive the Zhengzhou branch chief’s report: Baek Woo-gyeong, Jo Se-hwa, Cheonma, Munpyeong, and as an extra, the Broken-Faced Wanderer. Jo Se-hwa was there as Baek Woo-gyeong’s aide, but Munpyeong and the Broken-Faced Wanderer had no official role.

Where Cheonma went, Munpyeong went, and where Munpyeong went, the Broken-Faced Wanderer followed. Cheonma’s order for the Broken-Faced Wanderer to act as a bodyguard had not yet been rescinded.

“What is it? Has there been a new development in the Hebei incident?”

Technically, the Hebei Bloodbath itself was a new development, but Baek Woo-gyeong, having no time for such details, asked hurriedly. The Zhengzhou branch chief, looking as if he had ridden just as frantically as their party, brushed the dust from his shoulders and informed them of the situation.

“Yes. A major development. A huge storm of blood is brewing in Zhao County right now.”

The party, who had thought there was still time before the Qilin Plaque reached Zhao County, was shocked.

“What? The Qilin Plaque has already reached Zhao County?”

“To be precise, it’s not the Qilin Plaque that arrived, but its rubbings. The Qilin Plaque has essentially multiplied into dozens of copies.”

The party, who had been on the road and out of touch with the latest news, couldn't understand his words. Seeing their confused expressions, the Zhengzhou branch chief, nervously licking his thick lips, began to explain in detail what had happened in Hebei.

When the three first shared the rubbings, they had thought that the pursuit would be divided as the item was. They naively assumed that since one item had become three, the number of pursuers would be split. But that was a foolish miscalculation. As rumors of the rubbings began to spread in earnest, the entire Jianghu was turned upside down.

People who had been skeptical about the Qilin Plaque, despite the uproar, were finally convinced of the existence of the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault because of the rubbings. But by then, the original Qilin Plaque had already been destroyed by the three. Thus, for everyone else, the rubbings they held were the only key to finding the treasury.

With the sudden appearance of the rubbings, the already chaotic situation swelled like a snowball. Reclusive masters and giants of the previous generation, who had been silently watching the situation unfold, began to emerge, all vying for the rubbings. An incredible number of powerful figures appeared one after another, as if they had all been hiding in the woodwork.

Brutal battles erupted everywhere, either to seize the rubbings or because old enemies crossed paths again. As the number of masters increased, the number of deaths grew exponentially.

Of the three who had shared the rubbings, the first to lose his life at the hands of pursuers was none other than the Seven-Fingered Evil Buddha. He was tracked down by the righteous Seo-gwon Mun of Henan and was ultimately killed by the combined attack of five peak masters.

The next to disappear was the Iron Demoness. It was unknown how she vanished, but her disappearance became known when her share of the rubbing began to circulate on its own.

Alarmed by the successive disappearances of the other two, Jin Gung-in, in an act of self-preservation, began to copy the rubbing and distribute it widely. He believed that the more copies there were, the less rare the rubbing would become, thus reducing the threat to himself. Thanks to him, dozens of rubbings began to circulate within Hebei province. Among them were clear forgeries, which only added to the chaos as people tried to determine their authenticity.

“This is a copy of that rubbing. After a separate appraisal, it does not seem to be a forgery.”

The Zhengzhou branch chief placed a piece of paper before them. Indeed, in the center of the large paper, a small, square drawing was clearly visible.

Baek Woo-gyeong pulled the copy closer to examine it. Unable to contain his curiosity, Munpyeong also peeked over to see what it was. But the characters were like a code and the drawing like a scribble; he couldn't make any sense of it.

“Do you know what location this map represents?”

Knowing that the rumors circulating in the Jianghu were likely clues planted by their enemies, Baek Woo-gyeong asked, his brow furrowed. The Zhengzhou branch chief nodded at his question and took another piece of paper from his sleeve.

The new paper was a detailed map of Hebei province. The official seal of the governor of Hebei was stamped at the bottom, indicating it was an official document. Such an item would never be leaked to civilians. How had he obtained it? Munpyeong, with his experience in the military, marveled at the branch chief’s resourcefulness as he looked down at the map.

“There are many rumors circulating, so some things are uncertain, but to summarize the main points, it is as follows. First, the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault is said to be in Zhao County. Mount Bulyun, located about ten li northwest of the Zhaozhou Bridge, is often mentioned, but the exact peak is not yet known.”

His finger pointed to a mountain labeled Mount Bulyun. A place only ten li from a large town like Zhao County was not particularly remote. If the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault really existed there, it was a mystery how it had remained undiscovered for so long.

“And?”

“Second, there are rumors that once the treasury is opened, no one will survive. The Demonic Cult is said to have installed powerful mechanisms to prevent grave robbers and intruders, and these mechanisms are said to be truly vicious. However, these rumors are paradoxically fueling the fantasy that the Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon actually exists. The logic is that there would be no need for a heavy lock if there were no treasure.”

`The Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon?`

Despite being a member of the Demonic Cult, Munpyeong tilted his head at the unfamiliar name. He had heard of the Art of the Heavenly Demon, but the Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon? Did the Demonic Cult have such a technique?

He wasn’t the only one who was poorly informed. Baek Woo-gyeong also failed to understand the name. Realizing they were hearing it for the first time, the Zhengzhou branch chief wiped the sweat from his brow and explained the identity of the Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon.

“The Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon here refers to the foundational art of the Demonic Cult that is said to exist within the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault. It is said that because the location of the treasury was lost, the martial art was also lost.”

Whoever was making up these rumors, their storytelling skills were exceptional. The Demonic Cult’s version of an elephant’s graveyard, which existed only in rumors, had been given the plausible name of the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault. And now, a foundational art whose very existence was unknown even to Cheonma himself had been given the grand title of Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon.

Unable to listen any longer, Cheonma let out a short, incredulous laugh. He hadn't realized it before, but it seemed Gwak Hyo had a talent for storytelling.

`Good heavens, the Supreme Art of the Heavenly Demon. If you’re going to be that tacky, why not just go all out and call it the Prostration Art of the Heavenly Demon?`

“It’s no secret now that the rumors in the Jianghu are information deliberately spread by them. It seems they want us to enter that place, the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault.”

Unlike the others who were caught up in the rumors, Baek Woo-gyeong’s party knew that this entire commotion was a trap set by their enemies. Like a carnivorous plant luring insects with the scent of sweet fruit, the enemies had dug a fictional tomb for the martial artists and were tempting countless of them to their doom.

But even knowing all this, there was nothing they could do to stop it. The people currently caught up in the Hebei Bloodbath were in no state to listen to reason. They were blinded by greed, had already tasted blood, and were infected by the frenzied atmosphere, all in a state of semi-madness.

Shouting at them that it was all a fabrication and they were being deceived would be useless. They would likely be laughed at for trying to pull some trick.

The fact that they knew it was all the enemy's doing, yet were unable to stop their vicious scheme, pushed Baek Woo-gyeong’s party into a dilemma.

As a coalition of the righteous path, the Righteous Path Alliance couldn't just stand by and pretend not to know that countless deaths would occur. But to save the people who would die in vain, they too would have to walk into the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault. Even if they were willing to sacrifice themselves, they didn't know how many lives they could save.

That was the biggest reason for their hesitation. Their sacrifice could be a meaningless death. The mechanisms of the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault would not spare them. They might end up like someone who jumps into the water to save a drowning person, only to drown themselves.

“What if we block the entrance to the treasury and prevent people from entering? If we block the entrance, the trap itself won’t be activated.”

Jo Se-hwa, knowing what was troubling Baek Woo-gyeong, proposed what he thought was the best compromise. But Baek Woo-gyeong shook his head as if it were out of the question.

“Fifty first-rate masters, five peak masters, and two transcendent masters are enough to destroy a medium-sized sect overnight. But the number of martial artists flocking to the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault is in the hundreds, if not thousands. We don't have the strength to stop them all.”

“Then what should we do? We can’t just walk into a place we know is a death trap, can we? We might not mind, but the members of the Dragon-Tiger Brigade are still young. I value their precious lives. Those children, who have yet to bloom, shouldn't be cut down so senselessly.”

For once, emotion crept into the voice of the usually stoic Jo Se-hwa. Even a man of stone had feelings. Having recently watched his brothers-in-arms in the Azure Blood Corps die in vain, he did not want to sacrifice any more innocent young lives.

While he valued the lives of the other Dragon-Tiger Brigade members, what he was most concerned about was the safety of his cousin, whom he loved like a daughter.

Knowing that Jo Se-hwa was more compassionate than he appeared, Baek Woo-gyeong looked at him with a pained expression. But the lives involved were too numerous to be swayed by one person’s feelings.

“If we know it’s a place of death, there’s no need for everyone to go. A person with weak skills would only be a hindrance and might even endanger others. Only those who can take care of themselves should enter the tiger’s den.”

With so much at stake, a decision was not easily reached. As the weight of silence pressed down on their shoulders, Cheonma suddenly spoke.

The party’s attention turned to him. Even the Zhengzhou branch chief stared at him, his button-like eyes shining. Cheonma, fanning himself with a fan he had opened at some point, met their gazes coolly.

“Trying to block the entrance with our numbers is suicide. And leading the entire party inside will only result in needless casualties. If that’s the case, it’s better for a few reliable people to go in and handle things. If the enemy has set a trap, we must dismantle it. Only then can we save the lives of those foolish souls, can we not?”

“What do you propose we do? Dismantle the trap?”

Cheonma’s tone was so confident that it swept up his listeners. Baek Woo-gyeong, who had been at a loss just moments before, now felt as if he had found a lifeline in the darkness. He eagerly asked for more.

“According to the information spread by our enemies, the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault is in the mountains of Mount Bulyun. If there were an exposed structure, it wouldn’t have remained undiscovered, so it must be underground. As Great Warrior Baek would know, with his family ties to the Zhuge Clan who are masters of mechanisms, creating intricate mechanisms underground is five times harder than on the surface. The rumor that the treasury is thousands of years old is likely false, so the mechanisms must be operated by people, not on their own. To build self-operating mechanisms underground would require an astronomical sum of money, and a fool who would pour that much money into mere mechanisms wouldn't have been able to orchestrate something of this scale.”

Cheonma’s analysis grew more incisive with each passing moment.

To Munpyeong, it seemed he was half Yun Seung-hyo, half Cheonma. But in this situation, the others failed to notice the subtle difference. They were simply dumbfounded by his accurate analysis.

“So we have only one option. When the treasury doors open, we will be the first to enter, find the ones operating the traps, and eliminate them. After that, we can disable all the traps, and those who covet the treasury can search for what they want at their leisure. Let them roam as they please. A life is a life, so we save it out of pity, but it’s impossible to save them from their own foolishness.”

At his clear conclusion, Baek Woo-gyeong and Jo Se-hwa exchanged glances. They found Cheonma’s words credible.

“Then, Great Warrior Yun, who do you think would be suitable for this mission?”

Having gained faith in Cheonma, who had pointed out things they hadn't considered, Baek Woo-gyeong even entrusted him with the selection of the team, his eyes shining.

Yun Seung-hyo smiled softly and looked around the room. Munpyeong, whose eyes met his as his gaze passed by, felt an ominous premonition for some reason.

“There’s no need to overthink it. It would be troublesome if we’re not in sync in a confined space, so let’s go with people who are familiar with each other. Great Warrior Baek, Great Warrior Jo, myself, the Broken-Faced Wanderer, and finally, this man, Guan Ryang. That should be just the right number. The other peak masters should stay behind to lead the Dragon-Tiger Brigade.”

Cheonma’s answer was unhesitating, as if he had thought it out beforehand. Baek Woo-gyeong nodded seriously at his words. On the other hand, Jo Se-hwa, who had been listening intently, had a look of suspicion. The selection of the others was more or less acceptable, but he couldn't understand why Munpyeong was included.

Excluding Munpyeong, everyone else was a master at or above the peak level, capable of protecting themselves. But Munpyeong was only a first-rate master, and his physical condition was poor. In Yun Seung-hyo’s own words, he was highly likely to "endanger others."

“But, the selection is a bit strange.”

It's not that I want to object, but… Jo Se-hwa began, his expression making it clear he was choosing his words carefully. That man, at least, is not suitable, is he? Munpyeong, who vehemently agreed with his unspoken thought, didn’t feel the slightest bit offended that Jo Se-hwa was questioning his inclusion.

“I can understand the others, but I don’t understand why Brother Guan, who is not yet in good health, is included. Can he perform such a difficult mission in his condition?”

Not wanting to openly disrespect the man, Jo Se-hwa phrased his concern diplomatically.

Cheonma listened and then unhesitatingly shook his head. The corners of his mouth, which seemed to be permanently fixed in a smile, were somehow irritating. He was pushing someone into a deathtrap, yet what was so amusing that he was still smiling?

“You need not worry about him. As I said before, he is someone I must take responsibility for. Just think of him as an extension of myself.”

“What do you mean by that? If you have to take responsibility for him, shouldn’t you leave him behind? We will face life-and-death situations countless times inside the treasury. In a situation where it’s hard enough to save oneself, you can’t be responsible for someone else’s life, can you?”

One man was a man, the other was a man, and both were able-bodied men. Why did one keep insisting he had to take responsibility for the other? The excuse Cheonma gave only made Jo Se-hwa’s gaze turn even more peculiar.

`What is this man doing? What kind of nonsense is he about to spout now?`

Munpyeong looked at Cheonma, who was spouting strange things, with wide, startled eyes. But Cheonma, though clearly feeling Munpyeong’s surprised gaze, didn’t look at him. He simply smiled with his alluring red lips and continued to fan himself.

“That’s enough. If Great Warrior Hwa says it’s fine, then it’s fine. He is a brilliant man and would not have made a wrong judgment. Perhaps there is a reason we are not yet aware of.”

When Jo Se-hwa seemed about to object again, Baek Woo-gyeong subtly intervened and stopped him. Whether he truly thought so or was just trying to prevent a dispute, his intervention meant Jo Se-hwa could no longer object. He could not embarrass his friend, who was also his lord, in front of others. Though he was not convinced, Jo Se-hwa had no choice but to fall silent.

Baek Woo-gyeong turned to Cheonma with a smile that asked for his understanding. Cheonma returned the smile with a thin, knowing one of his own, their gazes meeting in mid-air.

A weakness should not be left where others can see it, Cheonma thought to himself, a glint of light flashing in his blue-green pupils.

He had made such a fuss over Munpyeong on the way here that Gwak Hyo must have noticed his existence. As a former member of the Demonic Cult, Gwak Hyo would know of Cheonma’s homosexual tendencies, and as a former confidant, he would surely know his tastes in detail.

In this situation, leaving Munpyeong alone was like leaving a chick out in the sun without its mother hen. If he looked away for even a moment, a cat or a hawk would snatch it up.

Munpyeong, oblivious to his master’s inner thoughts, seemed to have his lips pouted, complaining about being dragged into the most dangerous place of all.

`He values his own life like a religion, so this must feel unfair to him. He might even wait until we’re alone to confront me. He’s gotten quite bold lately and always says what’s on his mind, so he won’t let this slide either.`

But Cheonma was truly convinced. The safest place in the world for Munpyeong was right by his side. Having suffered a harsh lesson after thoughtlessly entrusting him to someone else, Cheonma no longer trusted others. He had no intention of making the same mistake twice. The first time is a mistake, the second is a failure. And failure was one of the things Cheonma hated most in the world.

Cheonma, who had expected an earful when they were alone, was instead unsettled by Munpyeong’s unexpected silence.

This man wasn’t one to let things go so meekly, yet he was strangely quiet. Considering his personality, this was unusual. Normally, he should have been screaming about why his schedule was decided without consultation, or begging with a pleading tone to be left out just this once.

But Munpyeong just lowered his eyes thoughtfully, showing no particular reaction. At first, he seemed angry, but then even that subsided, and he became quiet and calm.

What on earth could have caused such a change of heart? Even as they packed their bags the next day and rode for Zhao County, Cheonma couldn't help but wonder. But he couldn't very well ask why he wasn't nagging. There was no need to stir up trouble with someone who was being quiet.

Even before they entered Zhao County, the signs of the bloodbath were visible. It was the season for harvesting wheat, yet the fields were bare. The land was scorched black and red from fires someone had set.

To the eyes of Cheonma, riding past, the face of a farmer sitting on the ground, as if he had lost his soul, was more vivid than the piles of corpses strewn across the fields.

The traces of the violent storm of blood did not end there. As they entered the town, they saw a river of red flowing under the famous Zhaozhou Bridge, built during the Sui Dynasty.

Whatever had happened on this bridge last night, it seemed there were more corpses submerged in the river than fish.

The townspeople, frightened by the sudden rampage of the martial artists, had locked themselves in their homes. Even the windows were tightly shut, leaving no trace of human presence. Despite being a sizable town, the entire place was as silent as a tomb. It seemed even the local officials had been unable to withstand the martial artists’ onslaught, as the county office was also empty.

“What a truly horrific sight. What kind of outrage is this against innocent commoners?”

The tragic scene, like that of a war-torn land, made Baek Woo-gyeong sigh deeply. Cheonma, holding the reins, looked at the sight of Zhao County with cold eyes.

`Yes. This is the true face of the righteous path.`

Cheonma muttered to himself with a sneer, his blue eyes taking in the scene.

These were the people of the righteous path, capable of committing such acts for their own goals without batting an eye. No matter how Gwak Hyo had tempted them with honeyed words, how could today’s tragedy have occurred if there was no greed in their hearts? And yet they could still speak of justice and mercy. Their shamelessness was truly astounding.

Countless martial artists had died for a non-existent martial art. While the main forces of the Righteous Path Alliance feigned ignorance, the masters of the neutral factions and smaller sects, who didn't know the truth, were swept up in the chaos.

The immense losses they were suffering would ultimately benefit the major sects. But those blinded by immediate greed could not see such an obvious future.

The martial artists who had caused the bloodbath had brought it upon themselves through their own greed, but in Cheonma’s opinion, their suffering was nothing compared to that of the innocent commoners. Innocent people had been caught up in their bloodbath and died. What crime had the orphaned children committed to be turned into living corpses? And what sin had the residents of this town, who simply lived here, committed to deserve such a massacre?

It wasn't just here. The same things had happened in Liangyuan and Yixian, where the Qilin Plaque first appeared, and in every place the Hebei Bloodbath had occurred. Senseless deaths for no reason at all. What disgusted Cheonma most was that all of this had been done in his name.

Everyone associated this with his name, as if he had anything to do with it. Even the ones who had planned it all would surely think he was the original cause.

`I don't even need to ask to know. They believe that if I didn't exist, they would never have committed such an atrocity. The shameless bastards can't see their own greed, yet they're convinced they can read the hearts of others. They can read the ambition in my heart, but they can't see the hell in their own.`

They didn't know how to take responsibility for their actions, nor did they reflect on them. It was their intoxicated arrogance, their belief that only they were just, that had corrupted them so.

That was why Cheonma could not forgive the Righteous Path Alliance. The ones who had orchestrated these events were the same ones who had taken his brother from him using the very same dirty tricks.

Their vile habits hadn't changed even after decades. Then and now, they still measured the world with their own selfish yardstick.

`I shouldn’t have listened to that boy’s last wish back then.`

Cheonma belatedly regretted the past. He felt sorry for the boy, but looking at the tragedy of Zhao County, he couldn’t help but think it.

If he had just closed his eyes and purged the righteous path back then, if he had properly shown them that their dirty tricks would no longer work, then a tragedy like this would not have happened again today. From that perspective, their thought that Cheonma was the cause of all this was not entirely wrong.

“We must end this as quickly as possible. Let’s go to Mount Bulyun.”

Baek Woo-gyeong led the party with a heavy voice. The rest of the party followed him in somber silence.

As soon as they entered the foothills of Mount Bulyun, the thick smell of blood filled the air.

The traces of the ongoing bloodbath manifested before them in various ways. The once dense forest now had several clearings, created by the ferocious battles of powerful masters. Even just walking along the mountain path, they could see corpses scattered everywhere. Mountain animals that had been feasting on the bodies scattered at their approach. A flock of crows circled overhead, waiting for the next fresh meal.

From a distance, the faint clash of swords could be heard. The cries and groans of people, and the final death rattles. The once-quiet mountain had been turned into a hell by human greed.

In the mountains of Mount Bulyun, it was none other than Baek Woo-gyeong who led the party, holding the interpreted copy of the rubbing. He had been engrossed in it even while riding here, and had managed to decipher the illegible script and drawings to pinpoint the location of the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault.

Knowing that this copy was now widespread and countless people might know the location, the party moved quickly, hoping to be the first to arrive.

The place Baek Woo-gyeong led them to after deciphering the map was near a peak called Tianxiang Peak.

“This is a truly ingenious place.”

Munpyeong, who had been silent all this time, muttered to himself as he looked around at the path Baek Woo-gyeong was leading them on. The others also shook off their solemnity and looked around with curious eyes. As Munpyeong had said, the terrain revealed by the map was strangely shaped, something rarely seen.

From the outside, a magnificent waterfall cascaded down the mountain, so high that from below it looked as if water were falling from the sky. But when they followed a small path up alongside the waterfall to the top, they found another waterfall right behind it.

The original stream was one, but its path was split in two, flowing down the front and back of a single cliff. And below the waterfall lay a deep, hidden valley. It was a terrain like a prank played by the Creator.

They followed a narrow path down into the valley. It was not a man-made path, but one made by mountain animals, with intermittent breaks that made it difficult to walk. But the party considered this difficulty a blessing. The state of the path suggested that no one else had been here yet.

Having fully descended to the bottom of the valley, Munpyeong looked around with a sense of wonder. He saw a cliff that had been scooped out exquisitely, like a spoon taking a scoop from the middle of soft tofu. Above the round, hollowed-out valley, the blue sky hung like a giant moon.

Looking up at the sky from below, it truly felt as if they had arrived at some unknown mystical place. The sight was not just mysterious, but almost dreamlike.

“I think we’ve found the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault.”

Baek Woo-gyeong, who had been comparing the map and the terrain all along, finally said. Cheonma heard him and approached. Baek Woo-gyeong went to one side of the cliff, pushed aside the damp vines, and revealed the characters carved into the rock.

HVENLY DEMN'S SECRT TREASRY.

The four characters, written in seal script, were revealed before him.

As if to claim it had endured hundreds of years, the character for ‘Heavenly’ was badly broken and unreadable, and the other characters were covered in moss.

Whoever the forger was, their skill was excellent. They had even recreated the worn-out edges of the characters, weathered by time and the elements, making them look like a master’s work.

“The disguise is very well done. If I didn’t know better, I would have been completely fooled.”

Cheonma, confirming that this was indeed the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault, stepped back a few paces and said.

“We must enter here. There are traces of a stone gate on this side.”

Baek Woo-gyeong stroked his chin, pondering how to open what appeared to be a stone gate. From the outside, the rock and the gate seemed to be one solid piece, and he had no idea how to proceed.

Cheonma turned his head and looked at Munpyeong. With no specific task assigned to him, Munpyeong seemed to be in a semi-bystander mood. He wasn’t paying attention to what was happening inside, but was leisurely looking around like a spectator.

*"Step back."*

Cheonma sent a telepathic message to Munpyeong. Munpyeong, who had been lost in thought, flinched and looked up.

*"Don’t make it obvious, just step back. Pretend you’re admiring the waterfall."*

Munpyeong knew nothing about the current situation. Worried he might get caught up in something unexpected, Cheonma sent him as far away as possible and even gave him specific instructions on how to act.

Fortunately, Munpyeong was not completely clueless. He immediately understood his meaning and, pretending to admire the scenery, approached the dragon’s pond.

Unlike the waterfall on the other side, the still water was collected in a round pool like a lake. There was water flowing in, but no visible outlet, so there must have been another waterway deep inside the pond. It was indeed a very unusual formation, one rarely seen elsewhere, and Munpyeong soon became deeply interested in watching the waterfall.

“How do we get in? My maternal family is the Zhuge Clan, but embarrassingly, I know very little about mechanisms. Do you have any ideas, Great Warrior Hwa?”

Unable to find a way, Baek Woo-gyeong, who had been pushing, pulling, and knocking on the wall, turned to him with a look of undisguised difficulty. Cheonma, with his arms leisurely crossed, watched Baek Woo-gyeong’s excellent performance.

Baek Woo-gyeong, or rather, Gwak Hyo, was as fine an actor as he was. If he hadn't already guessed the situation, he might have been completely fooled by that sincere-looking face.

“The man who made this thing himself doesn’t know anything about its mechanism? Have you perhaps developed a case of amnesia lately?”

Cheonma feigned a naive expression and tilted his head in wonder. The tremendous insult, completely at odds with his whispered tone, made Baek Woo-gyeong turn to him with a shocked expression.

“...What did you say?”

“Do you still not understand what I mean? I appreciate your efforts in bringing me this far, but I don’t think there’s any need to go inside. As you well know, when catching a tiger, it’s easier to lure it out than to enter its den.”

Cheonma whispered sweetly, a crooked smile on his lips.

Jo Se-hwa, who had no idea what was going on, looked back and forth between the two in confusion. Munpyeong, who had been watching the waterfall from a distance, also sensed that something was wrong and turned to look.

The expression slowly drained from Baek Woo-gyeong’s handsome face. He was a man with such a gentle impression that a warm aura emanated from him even when he was silent, but that quality was slowly disappearing, as if washed away by water. Cheonma looked at this Baek Woo-gyeong, no, this Gwak Hyo, with cold eyes.

“My greetings are late. It’s been a long time, Cult Leader.”

A voice completely different from before came from Baek Woo-gyeong’s lips. A cold voice, reminiscent of a sharpened dagger.

Startled by the unexpected turn of events, Jo Se-hwa’s eyes widened. He moved his lips as if to ask something, but in the end, he said nothing and just shook his head.

From his oblivious perspective, it must have seemed as if the two had suddenly been possessed by ghosts. They were spouting incomprehensible words to each other, and their voices and auras were changing abruptly. A man he had once considered his closest friend had suddenly become a complete stranger.

But even Munpyeong, who had experienced a similar confusion before, couldn't spare a thought for him now. He was in the same boat as Jo Se-hwa, completely bewildered by the situation. Unable to adapt to the rapidly changing events, he just watched them.

`Good heavens. What is going on? Was Baek Woo-gyeong Gwak Hyo all along? Then what happened to the real Baek Woo-gyeong?`

Shocked by the new revelation, Munpyeong’s mind raced. If the Baek Woo-gyeong before him was a fake, where was the real one? It was unlikely they had simply swapped identities like Cheonma and Yun Seung-hyo. Considering all he had done, it was more likely that he had killed Baek Woo-gyeong and usurped his place.

The atrocities committed under the name of the Wusheng Cult, and what he had done to his own wife. The man who had unhesitatingly used his wife to plot a rebellion was Gwak Hyo. For such a man, killing one young man who meant nothing to him would not have been difficult.

“I thought I had hidden it well, but this is unexpected. You have never met your nephew before, so how did you know I wasn’t him?”

Despite his true identity being revealed to Cheonma, Gwak Hyo’s reaction was remarkably calm. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but at least on the surface, he showed no signs of agitation.

Hearing Gwak Hyo’s question, Cheonma let out a short laugh. It was closer to a sneer than a smile.

“I was almost fooled, it’s true. If you had made yourself look a little more like my brother, I would have been fooled more easily.”

“You share the same blood, so it’s possible to resemble anyone. You couldn’t have been sure with just that, could you?”

“That’s right. I had my suspicions, but I couldn't be sure. Ninety percent of me said no, but that remaining ten percent kept me from acting. I never knew I would feel so strongly for a nephew I’d only met once. It turns out that affection is a terrifying thing.”

Cheonma replied with a tone that was hard to tell if it was sarcastic or self-deprecating. Gwak Hyo looked at him silently. One man wore a mask with a smiling face, the other a mask with a blank expression.

Masks, upon masks, upon masks. Munpyeong was once again reminded of Bian Lian. The two men before him, who could create masks with their bare faces, seemed more impressive than a Bian Lian master who could change seven masks with a single step.

“But you made one mistake. If you want to keep what you’ve done a secret, you must be thorough in cleaning up afterwards. Did you really not know that a fake is bound to be exposed when the real one is still alive? You should have killed him cleanly when you had the chance. Then you wouldn’t be in this situation today.”

Cheonma gestured with his eyes toward the motionless Broken-Faced Wanderer. Gwak Hyo, who had turned to him with a look of disbelief, gave a bitter smile as the Broken-Faced Wanderer slowly removed his bamboo hat, revealing his face.

`So he really was alive.`

Gwak Hyo shook his head inwardly, feeling a sense of disbelief. He had never imagined that Baek Woo-gyeong could have survived in such a state. He had assumed he had become food for the wild animals when he was left on the mountain that day. As Cheonma had said, his failure to confirm his death had become an eternal regret.

`...I see. Was I already failing back then?`

The illusion that everything was proceeding perfectly shattered without a trace. If what he was seeing now was true, he hadn't lost to Cheonma, but had tripped over his own mistake.

The truth brought an unbearable bitterness. More than the fact that his decades-long plan had failed, what frustrated him was that his mistake had been laid bare before Cheonma’s eyes.

Once again, Cheonma stood before him as the victor. Cheonma’s always composed and confident demeanor hadn’t changed a bit, even after decades.

Before him, he was always the loser. The failure, the beaten dog. He had dedicated twenty years of his life, but everything was back to where it started. Despite his desperate efforts, the hierarchy between them had not changed. As if it were a predetermined fate.

“But must we talk in this form? It’s hard for me to kill you when you look like that, it makes me feel uneasy.”

“It makes no difference to me. Since I've been found out, I might as well talk in my true form. Even though you say that, you have no intention of holding back just because of this face, do you?”

Gwak Hyo tried to hide his bitter sense of defeat and mimicked Cheonma’s composure. He didn’t want to show a pathetic side in front of the man who always existed in the form he most desired. Since the topic had come up, he even released his disguise. A strange sound echoed as his form began to change.

His tall, imposing figure shrank somewhat, replaced by sharp, intelligent eyes. The mouth that resembled Gwak Jin-mu’s and the high cheekbones characteristic of the Gwak family were revealed. His face was older than before, a new impression. He must have undergone a complete transformation, as the scars on his face were gone without a trace. It was Gwak Hyo’s true face, revealed for the first time in decades.

In response, Cheonma also revealed his true form. In contrast to the shrunken Gwak Hyo, Cheonma’s frame grew larger. He was a head taller, and his physique was imposing. The most bizarre thing was that his face was becoming more and more like Baek Woo-gyeong’s. To be precise, he looked like a version of Baek Woo-gyeong about ten years younger.

Watching this spectacle, Jo Se-hwa’s eyes even lost their focus. As time went on, it became more and more like a ghost play. For someone who had never imagined such a situation, it was too much to handle.

“Wh-wh-wh-what is this…?”

As Jo Se-hwa, half-dazed, began to point at Cheonma, the annoyed Cheonma lightly flicked a finger wind and pressed his mute acupoint. He had brought him along on the suspicion that he might be Gwak Hyo’s accomplice, given how closely he stuck to Baek Woo-gyeong as his friend and sworn brother, but it seemed that was an unfounded fear.

If Jo Se-hwa truly knew nothing, there was no need to involve him in this. Putting him to sleep until everything was over was more convenient for both of them.

Gwak Hyo, now a rather handsome middle-aged man with a slightly narrow jaw and cold eyes, lightly touched his own face. It had been so long since he had returned to his true form that his touch felt unfamiliar.

“You’ve gotten quite bold.”

Just before everything he had worked for was complete, Cheonma had tripped him up. If he had at least made it inside the Heavenly Demons' Secret Vault, he might have had a slight chance. Now, not only was there no chance, but he had to worry about his own life. Yet Gwak Hyo seemed remarkably calm. It didn't seem like he was disregarding his own life; he must have another trick up his sleeve.

“To dare to challenge the Cult Leader for the world, one must cultivate boldness. To tremble in fear and wait for death just because one’s deeds have been exposed would be too pathetic, wouldn't it?”

“It is just as pathetic for a beaten dog not to frankly tuck its tail between its legs.”

“And you have kept this beaten dog alive until now. Is it not because you found my spirit amusing?”

Gwak Hyo, not wanting to show a defeated side in front of Cheonma, spoke with forced confidence. Seeing this, Cheonma found it truly amusing and let out an incredulous laugh.

“You’re seriously delusional. Don’t make me laugh. I didn’t keep you alive because I like you. It’s because there are still more people to come.”

“More people? Who?”

“You’re really annoying. Why don’t you see for yourself when he gets here?”

Cheonma barely restrained the urge to beat him to death right then and there.

“Don’t tell me that man, Cho Ji-baek, has come? Is he finally here to repay the debt for his severed arm?”

Just as Gwak Hyo finished speaking, a voice came from above them.

“No.”

Even the unflappable Gwak Hyo was startled and looked up. Turning hastily in the direction of the voice, he saw a figure slowly descending the steep hillside. The person answered Gwak Hyo’s question in a clear voice on behalf of Cheonma.

“King Yama was busy with the cult’s affairs and could not come. So I came instead.”

He was dressed in a rare white silk robe, but it was so splattered with blood that the new clothes were a waste. Dark red blood dripped from the tip of the sword he held at his side. The sight of him, so clearly having just come from killing people, made Gwak Hyo swallow hard.

As he appeared, the previously empty cliff top was filled with the shadows of people. As if they had just fought a silent battle in the darkness, the figures that appeared on the cliff were all covered in blood.

“Have you been well in my absence, Father? Your son greets you after a long time.”

Gwak Jin-mu, his gruesome appearance splattered with human blood and viscera, bowed his head lightly. Gwak Hyo looked at him with a cold gaze, then looked past his shoulder as if searching for something. Noticing his gaze, Gwak Jin-mu smiled. He flicked the blood from his sword and said as if to himself.

“Ah, are you perhaps waiting for the ones you left behind? What were they called? The Geonyeja, those puppets? I’m sorry to say, but they can no longer come here. That’s why I was late for our long-awaited reunion. They were surprisingly more trouble than I expected, so it took some time to clean them up.”

As Gwak Jin-mu finished speaking with a serene smile, Gwak Hyo’s face paled slightly. The man who had been so confident just moments ago now looked as if he had lost his last card.

`Hmph. Was he planning to play tricks with mere living corpses?`

Watching Gwak Hyo’s hidden trump card be completely neutralized, Cheonma clicked his tongue in disdain. Gwak Hyo always prepared many things in advance but always lacked follow-through. Once you deflected the dagger aimed at your belly, the rest of his plan would collapse with surprising ease.

How could a grand conspiracy to overthrow the world move flawlessly according to a plan drawn up on a desk? Gwak Hyo was always weak to variables. In that respect, Jin-mu was better than his father.

“Hahaha. This is truly amazing. I thought I was cornering you, but in fact, I was the one who fell into the trap. You are truly a difficult opponent, Cult Leader. I have lost to you twice now.”

Realizing that his own son had destroyed the last card he had believed in, Gwak Hyo looked up at the sky and laughed hollowly. Now, Gwak Hyo had nothing left in his hands. The entire board had been shattered before he could even play his cards. Even a man like Gwak Hyo would be unable to move any further.

Gwak Hyo maintained his composure to the end, hiding his despair, but Cheonma had no interest in him feigning the role of a dignified loser. If he had wanted to attract even a little of Cheonma’s attention, he should have charged at him, even if it meant death. Or he could have taken his own life. But Gwak Hyo did neither.

To Cheonma, Gwak Hyo was just a foolish man who had ruined not only himself but his entire family because of his inferiority complex and sense of defeat. His reckless attempt had not only cost him a promising future and position but also the wife who loved him.

In Cheonma’s eyes, his half-baked pride was pitiful and pathetic. He was so repulsive that he didn't even feel the urge to kill him with his own hands. Besides, there were two young ones by his side, burning with a desire for revenge. The thirst for vengeance of Gwak Jin-mu, who had had his mother snatched from before his eyes, and Baek Woo-gyeong, whose entire life had been stolen, would be more fervent than his own.

Cheonma decided to leave Gwak Hyo’s life to whichever of the two wanted it. He had no desire to stain his own hands with the blood of that lowly man and grant him a final satisfaction.

“But, I will not lose next time. I have failed twice already, so I will be a little better then.”

“A next time? Do you think you’ll have such an opportunity, Gwak Hyo?”

“I believe I will. I’m sure of it.”

Gwak Hyo, who should have had nothing left, smiled meaningfully. The smile on his face was by no means born of bravado. In that moment, an intuition pierced Cheonma’s spine. An almost instinctive, inevitable feeling shot through his entire body like an electric shock.

“Aaargh!”

Before he could react, it happened suddenly. A sharp scream echoed from behind him, followed by the sound of something heavy falling into the water. Cheonma whirled around and looked at the dragon’s pond.

The person who had been standing by the pond, watching them, was gone in an instant. He thought he saw a hand on the surface of the water, but even that was quickly dragged under.

“What have you done!!”

Startled, Cheonma roared in a fiery rage.

“The Geonyeja. They are not alive, so they can play in the water without breathing. But how long will that man, Brother Guan, last? A minute? A quarter of an hour?”

Cheonma, who had not expected the Geonyeja to be hidden in the dragon’s pond, ground his teeth. But there was no time for anger. If he had been caught by a living corpse and dragged into the water, it would be impossible for Munpyeong to escape on his own. Cheonma turned urgently to save him.

As if he had expected it, Gwak Hyo laughed loudly. He raised his voice as if to mock the flustered Cheonma and shared one more piece of information.

“Oh, and one more thing. Did you know there’s a long underwater tunnel at the bottom of the dragon’s pond? It’s dozens of zhang long, so once you’re sucked in, you can’t come out alive. That’s where the Geonyeja stay. Having finished their task, they should be heading back there now. With their new toy.”

“Jin-mu, Woo-gyeong! Get that bastard! If you let him escape, I won’t spare you either!!”

“Hahahaha. We’ll meet again. I do hope you can save your cute little fledgling.”

Gwak Hyo leisurely launched himself into the air and left the scene. The alarmed Gwak Jin-mu and Baek Woo-gyeong gave chase, but it was impossible for them to properly pursue a man who had undergone a complete transformation and reached the manifestation realm.

Knowing this, Cheonma couldn't spare a thought for the fleeing Gwak Hyo. His flowerbed, his weed, had completely disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

`Damn it all to hell!!`

Cheonma cursed inwardly and rushed frantically to the dragon’s pond. The water, so deep its bottom was invisible, was a dark indigo color, making it difficult to see what lay beneath.

Without hesitation, he plunged into the endless darkness. The coldness of the waterfall enveloped his body. The swirling currents wrapped around his legs, pulling his robes down. The deeper he dove, the stronger the pressure crushing his body became. Cheonma swam through the pitch-black water, diving deeper and deeper.

But no matter how desperately he searched, there was no sign of Munpyeong.

It was as if this deep, dark water had swallowed him whole.