For a thousand Autumns: chapter 2

 

Chapter 2

His earliest memory began with the flapping hem of a barracks tent. A canvas flap, beaten by the fierce winter wind, relentlessly pushed a draft of cold air inside. Someone shook him awake.

“Hey, you. Go hold that down.”

A man’s irritated voice pierced the air. Woken from his sleep, he rubbed his eyes and did as he was told, staggering over to grab the barracks door flap. The old, coarse fabric felt heavy in his small hands.

Teased by the violent winter gale, the cloth was as cold as ice. The knife-like wind slipped without hesitation through the collar of his thin, shabby clothes.

As a child, he didn't know any other way to secure the flap. No one taught him what to do or how to do it. So, he simply stood there all night, clutching the fabric with both hands, helplessly guarding the entrance.

His small, tender hands quickly froze solid. His small body was no different. The harsh winter wind clawed at his skin as it passed. He tried to curl up to escape the cold, but it only made his hunched back ache; it was of little use. Still, he couldn't utter a single word of complaint. He knew that whining would only annoy the adults and make things harder for himself.

Munpyeong was an orphan. He had been one for as long as he could remember. Yet, for someone in his position, he was also quite lucky. At the very least, he’d been abandoned in a place where he wouldn’t starve, and there, he was able to learn a skill that would provide him with a livelihood for the rest of his life.

The place he’d been left was a border garrison filled with military barracks. He had no idea whose hands had raised him during his infancy when he couldn't even look after himself. He suspected he might have been the child of a camp-following prostitute who, finding herself unexpectedly pregnant, had given birth and simply left him behind. But this was just his own speculation, a thought without any basis in fact.

When he came to his senses, he was alone, surrounded by towering adults whose faces he couldn’t see even if he craned his neck all the way back. They found the existence of Seok Munpyeong, who was always getting underfoot, to be a great nuisance.

For the young Seok Munpyeong, being kicked for being in the way or beaten for being slow was just a part of his ordinary life. In the barracks, where anyone who couldn't wield a weapon was merely a surplus mouth to feed, a child who couldn't even earn his own keep could be treated as nothing more than a troublesome burden.

Occasionally, he would receive pitiful glances from soldiers who had left young children back in their hometowns, but their interest never lasted long. In a situation where their own lives were on the line, no one was meddlesome enough to care for an orphan with whom they shared not a single drop of blood.

And yet, life went on. Though he might only get a lump of cold rice and a side of soured vegetables, he never went hungry. And though he might have to sleep curled up like a shrimp at the edge of the drafty barracks, he never had to sleep outside.

The child survived by learning to read the mood, run errands without being told, and exist like air. Uncared for, the young boy quickly learned the tricks to living. No one had ever taught him, but like a wild animal’s cub, he instinctively knew how to survive.

`…Even after surviving all that, I’ve never once had to sell my body. These damn bandits. Do they really think they can just take my virtue for nothing? I wouldn’t complain if they at least paid me for it. All they did was give me a little raise, and now they’re adding how many new duties? They want me to be Cheonma’s nighttime companion *and* tail him? So I’m supposed to follow Cheonma around with a torn-up ass? Ha! What do they take me for? A limpet, supposed to cling to him even after he’s taken a shit?`

The raise he’d received upon his promotion to Demon Shadow was by no means “a little,” but Seok Munpyeong conveniently ignored this fact as he seethed with indignation.

He was in no mood for fair and reasoned judgment. How could he think rationally and logically when Cheonma’s massive manhood was floating around in his head? The unfortunate incident in the bathhouse was still vivid in his memory. He remembered exactly how painful it was, and he was determined not to let his poor backside suffer such agony a second time.

One could argue that the bandit leader deserved what he got as punishment for daring to attack Cheonma, but what had he—who had only been diligently carrying out his mission—done to deserve such a fate?

If the Demonic Cult expected him to offer his body just because they were providing for his livelihood, they were seriously underestimating him. A warrior dedicates his all to the one he has sworn loyalty to, but a mercenary works exactly as much as he is paid.

The first thing a mercenary looks after is his own body, and the second is his money.

The Demonic Cult had properly promised Munpyeong neither of these. Far from promising compensation, they were forcing him into a mission that wasn’t in his contract and had even threatened his life when he tried to refuse.

It seemed they had forgotten that Munpyeong was an outsider, someone from beyond the Cult. He didn’t possess the same blind loyalty to the Cult Leader as those born and raised within it. Munpyeong fully intended to give only as much as he received.

`How the hell am I supposed to solve this? Just say no? If I refuse and resist to the death, will they listen? No. No way. Not a chance. He’s someone who tried to do as he pleased right in front of his own disciples. Would he meekly listen to someone like me? He’d probably just laugh and do whatever he wanted anyway. If I’m not careful, he might beat me to death for being a troublesome resistor. He said he wouldn’t kill me, but he never said he wouldn’t beat me.

Should I run away? Instead of sticking around to see this and that, maybe just leaving this place isn’t a bad idea… No. That’s even more impossible. I barely escaped the Tang Clan’s pursuit, and now I’m supposed to be hunted by the Demonic Cult? How could I go through that twice? Besides, I have nowhere left to run.`

He thought about resisting, but Cheonma wasn’t the type to be swayed by that. He considered fleeing, but Ho Wan-pyeong was a constant worry. It was truly a case of a tiger at the front and a wolf at the back.

No matter how hard he racked his brain, no plausible solution came to mind. Seok Munpyeong clutched his head in frustration. He wished someone smart were here to give him advice, but the nature of the problem made it impossible to consult anyone.

**Tap.**

Munpyeong, who was in a miserable posture with his head in his hands and his face buried in his knees, lifted his head at an unfamiliar sound. He traced the noise to the window. **Tap. Tap.** The sound, clearly made intentionally by someone, tapped on the window frame at regular intervals.

`Who could it be, at this late hour?`

Munpyeong frowned and looked toward the window.

It was the dead of night. The hour was the third watch. Except for outliers like himself, kept awake by special circumstances, everyone should have been asleep. Yet, someone had come at this hour and was tapping on his window, not his door.

This did not seem like a normal visit. Suspicious of the visitor's identity, Munpyeong picked up the sword he had left beside him and stood up. He moved cautiously toward the window, senses on high alert for any presence outside.

“Who is it?” he asked, pressing his back against the wall next to the window. He lowered his voice, questioning the visitor’s identity, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at any moment. For a moment, there was no answer from outside.

`Why no answer?`

His suspicion deepened at the strange silence. Munpyeong tightened his grip on the sword hilt.

“…Seok-hyung. Is that you, Seok-hyung?”

A cautious voice came from below the window. Unexpectedly, it was a familiar one.

`Hak? Is it Im Hak?`

Startled by the unexpected identity of the visitor, Munpyeong questioned his own ears as he asked back, “Is that you, Hak?”

“Yes, Seok-hyung. It’s me, Hak. May I come in?”

Listening again, it was definitely Im Hak’s voice. Certain of the visitor's identity, Munpyeong hurriedly opened the window.

As he opened it, Im Hak, who had been hiding below the window frame, revealed himself. Though the only light was the faint moon, and the surroundings were dark, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize the face of Im Hak, with whom he had shared joys and sorrows for years.

He grabbed Im Hak’s arm and quickly pulled him into the room. Pulled up through the window despite there being a perfectly good door, Im Hak watched with a serious expression as Munpyeong, wary of their surroundings, closed the window.

“How did you find me?” Munpyeong whispered to Im Hak. Im Hak, lowering his voice as well, answered.

“I saw you pass by during my patrol today. At first, I thought I was mistaken, but I asked around just in case, and it seemed it was really you, Seok-hyung. So I came to see for myself.”

The thoughtful young man didn’t need to be told to keep his voice down. Although there were only the two of them in the room, they were inside the living quarters of the warriors serving in the Inner Sanctum. Even if they were asleep, the martial artists nearby had sharp senses and keen hearing, so they had to be careful.

Munpyeong latched the window securely and pulled him further into the room. Im Hak’s gaze grew sharper at Munpyeong’s cautious attitude, even over small things. In the darkness, Munpyeong looked at Im Hak's eyes, which shone alone. In the dark room with no candle lit, the only thing visible was the glint in their eyes.

“It’s been a while, Hak. Have you been well? Are the others okay?”

They had been inseparable, but now it had been over a fortnight since they had suddenly been separated without seeing each other. It wasn’t a long time, but it felt strangely distant. Im Hak’s sudden appearance made Munpyeong miss his friends, and he asked after the people he had left behind.

“How could we be okay? After you disappeared so suddenly, Seok-hyung. You vanished without reason, and there was no word no matter how long we waited. Even your things were gone from your room. Everyone is worried sick. What on earth is going on? How could you be right here in the Cult and not send a single word?”

Im Hak spoke clearly, without raising his voice. It wasn’t an emotional tone, but Munpyeong could read the worry in his voice. If he hadn't been worried, he wouldn't have risked venturing into the Inner Sanctum, a place that was all but forbidden to warriors from the Outer Sanctum. Munpyeong felt a pang of guilt.

“I was assigned an unexpected mission. It’s top secret and cannot be spoken of to anyone other than those directly involved. The confidentiality rules are so strict that I couldn't even send word, though I knew you'd worry. I'm sorry.”

Munpyeong was overjoyed to see Im Hak after so long. He truly wanted to talk his heart out, sharing every story he could think of. But the chilling image of Ho Wan-pyeong held him back.

Ho Wan-pyeong was a man who had been willing to kill even Munpyeong, whom he had handpicked, to protect Cheonma’s secrets. There was no telling what such a man would do if he found out that top-secret information had been leaked to Im Hak. It was best not to give any excuse to a man who believed killing to silence someone was a convenient way to keep a secret.

“So that was the situation. Is your presence in the Inner Sanctum also because of the mission?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“That’s a relief, then. We were very worried since you were taken away so quietly. The whole affair was so secretive that we suspected you might have been dispatched on some dangerous mission outside. It seems that’s not the case, thankfully. That eases my mind, at least.”

Im Hak was a wise man. Once he had confirmed what he wanted to know, he asked no more questions. He was considerate enough to understand Munpyeong's difficult position.

Seeing this, Munpyeong thought it was a blessing that Im Hak was the one who had found him. If it had been the sincere but slow-witted Hyung Ak, or the frivolous and shallow Choi, things wouldn't have ended so smoothly.

“Thank you for your concern. Please give my regards to the others. Don’t go into detail; just tell them I was dispatched on a mission and can’t return until it’s over. And this is just in case, but tell them not to acknowledge me even if they see me. It’s better to pretend I don't exist until the mission is finished. That goes for you too, not just the others.”

Hearing his request, Im Hak nodded silently.

`This kid would have been a great person to talk to about this…`

Looking at Im Hak’s reliable figure, Munpyeong smacked his lips in regret. Though still young, Munpyeong knew no one better to consult with than Im Hak. He was smart, thoughtful, and, on top of that, tight-lipped—a rare combination. Munpyeong knew no one more trustworthy to rely on.

But he had to give up on what couldn't be. He wasn’t some sort of water ghost, dragging Im Hak down with him just because his own problems were overwhelming. To discuss his worries, he would inevitably have to talk about Cheonma, and as he knew, all information about Cheonma was top secret and could not be carelessly revealed. Moreover, he was a Demon Shadow. If Im Hak were to learn that fact, it wouldn’t just be Munpyeong who wouldn’t survive.

The Demon Shadow Corps was an organization whose existence was known, but the identities of its members, its leader, and even its numbers were all shrouded in shadow.

The Demon Shadow Corps imposed a special duty on its members: the duty of strict secrecy. Because of this, the Demon Shadow were forbidden not only from revealing information about the unit to outsiders but also from revealing their own identities to others.

If someone broke this vow and revealed their identity, the Demon Shadow’s rule was to purge not only the speaker but also the one who heard the information. Munpyeong secretly thought that for a group led by *that* Ho Wan-pyeong, such a rule was fitting, but that made it all the more something he couldn't take lightly.

“Don’t come looking for me anymore. Let’s catch up properly after all this is over. I’ll make all my apologies then.”

Munpyeong was quick to give up on things he couldn't achieve anyway. He cut off his lingering regrets and spoke to Im Hak.

“There’s no need to apologize. You were only following orders from above. It’s not something we can argue about. We’re all in the same boat, Seok-hyung. We’re not so dense that we can’t understand something like this.”

Im Hak shook his head, smiling for the first time since entering the room.

“I should be going now. Please stay healthy until we meet again.”

After saying his goodbyes, Im Hak climbed back out the window. His younger brother had come all this way out of worry, and he couldn’t even offer him a cup of tea. He came and went through a window like a thief. That kid is going through needless trouble because of me.

His mind grew complicated, but for a different reason than before. Even after Im Hak had left the room, Munpyeong couldn't bring himself to close the window for a long time. The desolate late autumn wind chilled his body, but Munpyeong stood motionless, blankly staring outside as the wind blew over him.

In the end, Munpyeong couldn't sleep all night.

With bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep, he headed toward the Thunder Palace. Seok Munpyeong, who had been dragging his feet reluctantly, like a cow being led to the slaughter, let out a heavy sigh that seemed to shake the very ground as the magnificent form of the Thunder Palace came into view.

When he arrived, Cheonma was still asleep. It wasn't the first or second time he’d seen the man sleep until the sun was high in the sky, so seeing him sleep in was no longer surprising. Munpyeong walked silently to his designated spot.

His post for the past few days was a small space right next to the entrance, between the door and a scroll bearing the calligraphy of Zhao Mengfu. It was a place too narrow for his frame, making it uncomfortable to stand still, and it had the disadvantage of having to move aside every time the door opened. But Munpyeong liked this spot because it was where Cheonma's gaze was least likely to fall.

`I should have learned stealth techniques if I knew it would be like this.`

But today, even this spot felt precarious. It was a place where gazes were *less* likely to fall, not a place where they *never* fell. And with his body completely exposed, visible with just a turn of the head, how could he not be anxious? He was incredibly envious of the other Demon Shadow, who were in the same room yet managed to completely hide not only their forms but even their presence.

What Munpyeong truly needed was that kind of martial art. A martial art that could hide him from the eyes of others, especially from the eyes of Cheonma.

Before long, Cheonma rose from his bed. Yawning languidly like a beast just awakened, he emerged from the covers in the same state as the day he was born and stretched. His body, resilient as a well-made bow, tensed and then relaxed. The beautiful nude form, composed of muscles balanced with an almost sublime grace, glowed an ivory color in the soft morning light.

Perhaps due to his morning constitution, Cheonma’s member was half-erect. Even at half-mast, the massive thing looked to be about twice the size of an ordinary man’s, but attached to Cheonma’s body, it didn’t particularly stand out or look grotesquely ugly. In fact, it created an optical illusion of being just the right size, so much so that if he could have, he might have rubbed his eyes and looked again.

Cheonma was like a wild beast, unashamed of his naked body. Like a predator that passes indifferently by a human who has frozen in terror at its sudden appearance, Cheonma nonchalantly sauntered about, completely ignoring Munpyeong's flustered gaze, which he displayed every time he saw it.

He pulled the bell cord, and Ranran and Yehwa entered side by side. As always, Yehwa carried his clothes, and Ranran prepared the tea tray.

While Cheonma drank his tea, Yehwa and Ranran expertly dressed him. Their hand movements, dressing him without hindering his casual movements, were nothing short of miraculous.

Cheonma washed his face while seated and ate a simple breakfast right there. The skilled maids moved like tongues in a mouth, attending to his every need. They moved smoothly and naturally, like flowing water, without needing specific orders. They moved like intricately interlocking gears.

After the morning routine was finished and the maids had withdrawn, Cheonma picked up a book. He didn't sit properly at a desk to read but piled up silk cushions on the plush rug that his ankles sank into, and read in an exceedingly delinquent posture, leaning his back against them.

Fortunately, the book Cheonma held this time was not that book on Jiangshi arts. It was a smaller, thinner, and peculiar book with a hard cover like a beetle’s shell.

Quiet time passed. Cheonma continued to lie on the floor, reading, while Seok Munpyeong stood plastered against the wall, trying not to even breathe too loudly.

One hour passed, then two. Cheonma didn't even acknowledge him. A rather late lunch was served, and while Cheonma ate, Munpyeong went outside for a quick meal of a rice ball and a cup of tea before returning. After lunch, Cheonma remained engrossed in his reading.

He was ignoring Munpyeong completely, just as he had for the past few days. Judging by his actions, it wasn't just ignoring; he seemed to have genuinely forgotten Munpyeong was even there.

He yawned when he felt like it, scratched his head when it itched. He rolled around on the floor while reading and drank tea when he was thirsty. He acted as if he were completely alone in the room.

Watching him, Munpyeong himself was on the verge of forgetting his own existence. Munpyeong, who had wanted to become air, had his wish granted thanks to Cheonma.

`…What’s this? Nothing’s really changed.`

Having completely escaped Cheonma’s line of sight to a degree that made him no longer envious of the other Demon Shadow’s stealth, Munpyeong gradually fell into a strange mood as Cheonma’s attitude remained unchanged. To be honest, he felt like an idiot. Cheonma’s indifference towards him was so consistent that he began to suspect he had been needlessly mistaken.

The words Gwak Jin-mu had spoken the day before had been so shocking, and the memory of almost being assaulted before had made him overly sensitive. As he watched Cheonma’s unchanged demeanor, Munpyeong felt his reason slowly returning.

The longer he existed as air, the more his agitation subsided and his head cooled, and thoughts from a different direction began to surface. He wondered if he had made a fuss over nothing and questioned whether he had over-interpreted what Gwak Jin-mu had said.

Thinking back now, it was only Gwak Jin-mu who had insisted Munpyeong was Cheonma's type; Cheonma himself had never affirmed it. No, even if, giving him the benefit of the doubt, Munpyeong did fit his type, it was impossible to judge if only a part of the type fit, or if all of it did.

And wasn’t it possible that even if his disciples thought so, Cheonma himself might not see it that way? In fact, Cheonma hadn’t seemed particularly pleased when he first saw Munpyeong.

The story about the bandit leader was the same. Thinking about it carefully, that story meant Cheonma always let men who were his type go alive, not that he went around assaulting any man he found attractive.

It made sense when he thought about it. Not every man dragged off and raped every woman of his type he came across. It was unlikely to be different for a man who preferred men.

`Wouldn’t he not touch me again, if only out of spite for Ho Wan-pyeong? It looks like he used a blatant honey trap. Even if the bait is tempting, seeing such an obvious ploy would kill any desire. His relationship with his first disciple doesn't seem good, so would he really gobble up the rice cake given by a disciple he dislikes? Cheonma has his pride.`

Munpyeong eventually came to this conclusion. He was well aware that it was an overly self-comforting speculation. But with no way out of the situation, he wanted to find some peace of mind, even if it was through such thoughts.

A person caught in the rain in the mountains doesn't wish for the rain to stop, but for a place nearby to take shelter. Munpyeong, facing Cheonma who was no different from a natural disaster, felt something similar. Since he couldn't escape on his own, his honest wish was for the other party to pretend not to see him.

`I’m like a turtle with its head stuck in its shell.`

Munpyeong gave a bitter smile at his own pathetic state. He felt ashamed of how he’d ended up in this situation. He had prided himself on taking good care of his own body until now. But being swept up by someone so absurd made it difficult to keep his footing.

This is why people in the Jianghu sought to build their strength. So they could stand firm with deep roots, unbent by any external winds.

Munpyeong sincerely repented for his rather complacent past. He had thought it was enough just to have food to eat, so he had lacked enthusiasm for training and made no particular effort. The laziness of his past had led to today's results, so he had no right to blame others.

Hadn't Ho Wan-pyeong said it himself?

“If your martial arts had been at the peak level, I wouldn't have chosen you.”

He had bluntly pointed out Munpyeong’s situation, and now Munpyeong understood just how painful those words were.

`I need to start training again. My body has grown stiff from taking it easy, so it'll be tough for a while. Let's set my first goal as a peak master. Just in case, I should also get the secret manual for the Art of Invisibility and Stealth from the Unit Leader. He clearly said I'm a Demon Shadow too, so he wouldn't be stingy with a manual, would he?`

For the first time in a while, Munpyeong made a productive resolution. He would increase his training time starting this very evening. If he lacked time, he would cut back on sleep. He steeled his resolve and looked forward.

Cheonma was still rolling around on the floor. He looked lazy, lying there reading a book, yet his characteristic arrogance remained. It was to the point where it felt less like he was reading the book and more like he was looking down on it.

It’s not easy to be that strong-willed. Munpyeong sighed inwardly as he looked at Cheonma, whose age was impossible to guess.

Looking at a Heavenly Demon like that, Munpyeong felt he could understand why the ancient sages said to go against the unnatural and follow the natural order.

***

Po Yeong-ui stopped reading the report and looked at the man sitting before him. The man sat with a prim posture, looking at the report Po Yeong-ui had submitted, but he didn't seem to be reading it with any particular attention. As proof, the man hadn’t even noticed that he had stopped talking. His lowered gaze was unfocused and clouded. He was lost in thought again.

“First Senior Brother. Senior Brother?”

Po Yeong-ui called to Ho Wan-pyeong in a cool voice. It took a couple of calls before he came to his senses and raised his head with an awkward expression. Po Yeong-ui looked at Ho Wan-pyeong with a face as impassive as a mask.

“My apologies, Third Junior Brother. I was lost in thought again.”

“If your circumstances are such that you cannot listen to my report, I will return later. It is not an urgent matter.”

“No, there’s no need for that. Why should I waste your time twice?”

“Whether you waste it then or waste it now, the fact that my time is being wasted does not change. So please, call me again later when your mind is clear.”

Po Yeong-ui spoke coldly and stood up from his seat. A troubled Ho Wan-pyeong tried to stop him. This junior brother of his had a personality as sharp as a blade. He was competent but exceptionally unaffectionate and cold, making him difficult to deal with even on a normal day. He couldn't just let him leave after offending him without an apology.

As Ho Wan-pyeong repeatedly insisted, Po Yeong-ui had no choice but to sit down again. Privately, he was his senior brother, and by rank, his superior, so he couldn’t just be as firm with him as he would with others. But his face was even more coldly set than usual, making the already troubled Ho Wan-pyeong feel even more so.

“What is the matter, First Senior Brother? Do you have some worry?”

Po Yeong-ui asked Ho Wan-pyeong in a stiff voice. At a glance, it might sound like a concerned inquiry, but it was, in fact, an interrogation as to why he had made the same mistake twice.

Ho Wan-pyeong gave a troubled smile toward his unforgiving junior brother. Given his nature, it seemed a vague, patched-up excuse wouldn't work.

“I was worrying because it seems the time has come.”

Ho Wan-pyeong had no choice but to confess the problem that had been weighing on his mind.

Po Yeong-ui briefly furrowed his pristine brow. He wracked his brain for a moment, not understanding what Ho Wan-pyeong was referring to, but soon realized what he was talking about and quietly nodded.

“Now that you mention it, that’s right. Is it already October?”

“Yes. It’s already October. The nineteenth, to be precise.” Ho Wan-pyeong muttered worriedly.

“He will be on the move soon. Within a day or two at the latest, right? Unless he plans to skip it entirely, he will depart by then.”

“I think so too. And when he goes there, he will hear about Lady Baek.” Ho Wan-pyeong murmured with a sigh.

“Sooner or later, it’s a story he was bound to hear. No, he may already know. You know this as well, Senior Brother. Although Master remains within the Thunder Palace, his information is faster and more accurate than mine. You cannot hide the sky with the palm of your hand. Especially not from Master.”

Compared to Ho Wan-pyeong, who was worrying as if it were his own affair, Po Yeong-ui’s attitude was far more objective. As different as their personalities were, so were their thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, Ho Wan-pyeong rubbed his forehead with his fingers. His youthful face, which usually looked no older than his mid-thirties, now looked its true age.

“…How is Lady Baek’s condition? Has it worsened?” Ho Wan-pyeong, unaware of recent developments, asked quietly. Po Yeong-ui replied calmly.

“It’s her age. She has passed her seventieth year. If she weren’t a martial artist, it would be rare to live to that age.”

“I heard the Zhuge Clan, concerned for her health, called for the Divine Doctor from the Bolin Sect. What happened with that?”

“Yan Manxing may be famous as a Divine Doctor, but how can he defy the laws of nature? Lady Baek’s illness is due to old age; it cannot be cured by human medicine.”

“Is that so? It was no help, then.”

“Yes, Senior Brother. Yan Manxing himself said so. That Lady Baek is unlikely to make it past this year.”

Hearing this, Ho Wan-pyeong’s expression grew even more somber. He lost the smile that always hung on his lips and fell deep into thought. As his rarely-seen stern expression took over, the true hardness and austerity of his features, usually hidden behind a friendly demeanor, became starkly visible.

Just because a beast doesn’t show its claws doesn’t mean it’s not a beast. Just because Ho Wan-pyeong always treated people with ease didn't mean he wasn't a fearsome man. People didn't know it, but among the Four Scions of the Demon, Ho Wan-pyeong was the strongest master and the most dangerous being. Po Yeong-ui knew this well, and that was why he was worried for his senior brother.

“It is unavoidable, Senior Brother. I hear that word has even reached the Jade Qilin in Fujian Province. He, who swore not to return until he had driven out all the Japanese pirates from Fujian, is now heading north to be at his mother’s deathbed. It seems there is nothing we can do.”

“Is that so? Baek Woo-gyeong is returning to the Central Plains?”

Ho Wan-pyeong softly muttered the name of Baek Woo-gyeong, the number one swordsman of the Wudang Sect, known in the Jianghu as the Jade Qilin, and fell silent.

`Baek Woo-gyeong. Baek Woo-gyeong.`

The face of Baek Woo-gyeong, whom he had met by chance a few years ago, surfaced in Ho Wan-pyeong’s mind. Baek Woo-gyeong was truly a handsome man. He was as tall and sturdily built as Ho Wan-pyeong, but thanks to his elegant appearance, which had earned him the title of Jade Qilin, he didn't look bulky at all. He was a master revered by the entire Orthodox Faction, a prodigy of his generation hailed as the next potential number one under heaven.

Befitting a great hero of the Orthodox Faction, Baek Woo-gyeong had an upright character, could not stand injustice, and possessed a nature that showed compassion for the weak. He was known as the Orthodox Faction’s only hope against Cheonma’s disciples, the Four Scions of the Demon. The world believed that the future of the Jianghu would be determined by who won between the Four Scions and the Jade Qilin.

But it wasn't because of these public expectations that Ho Wan-pyeong was concerned about Baek Woo-gyeong. He had taken Baek Woo-gyeong to heart for a completely different reason.

`When Lady Baek dies, Baek Woo-gyeong will inherit ‘that’. But he will only inherit the object. The secret she has guarded so fiercely her entire life will never be passed down. Perhaps a bloody conflict will erupt once more. Master is not one to make excuses to others, so this time too, he will accept everything without any defense.`

The more he thought, the heavier his heart became. His arrogant master considered defending himself to be shameful and never made excuses, even when faced with unjust accusations. He solved the troublesome matters that arose from this with force and silenced unpleasant voices by making them shut up themselves.

Cheonma’s martial prowess was so overwhelming that this method had worked until now, but there was no telling if it would work on Baek Woo-gyeong.

Ho Wan-pyeong closed his eyes deeply and then opened them. The light of a firm resolve rose in his dark, sunken eyes.

“Yeong-ui.”

Po Yeong-ui felt a sense of foreboding. Whenever Ho Wan-pyeong had that look in his eyes, unmanageable things happened.

What is this reckless man planning to do now? Whether he knew his third junior brother’s worries or not, Ho Wan-pyeong continued in a heavy tone.

“There is no other way. We must retrieve the Qilin Plaque before it’s too late.”

As always, the scale of his senior brother’s plans far exceeded Po Yeong-ui’s expectations. His mouth fell open, and he could only stare at his senior brother, speechless.

“First Senior Brother!!”

Po Yeong-ui cried out in shock, calling to Ho Wan-pyeong without thinking. His face, which rarely showed surprise, was contorted in alarm.

***

“Damn it all!”

Seok Munpyeong gasped for breath. After running for a day and a half without rest, his mouth tasted metallic. It wasn't just metallic; there was a bitter, acrid taste as well, which meant stomach acid had refluxed and bile had risen.

`My god. The taste of bile in my mouth!`

Munpyeong realized his body had reached its limit, just as it had when he was chased by the Tang Clan. He had no choice but to stop running. As he released the internal energy circulating through his body, his exhausted legs buckled.

Barely managing to support his trembling legs, he leaned against a tree and checked the energy in his dantian. Because he hadn't even been able to perform breathing exercises, only a chestnut-sized amount of energy remained. With this much qi, he could only run for another half-day at most.

It wasn't just his energy; his body was also a problem. Even the body of a trained martial artist has its limits.

His muscles, pushed to their extreme, were already showing faint spasms. If he ran any further, he might suffer a severe cramp. For a martial artist whose body was his livelihood, that was a fatal situation.

`Damn it. Where am I?`

After checking his own condition, Seok Munpyeong raised his head and looked around. It was still daytime, but the surroundings were dark and gloomy. Towering trees that blocked out the sky obscured his vision.

It was a deep, primeval forest, completely untouched by human hands. Giant trees that a grown man couldn't wrap his arms around filled the area, and thick undergrowth made it difficult to forge a path. In the dim forest, there was only the sound of a flowing stream and birdsong. Occasionally, he could hear the rustling of wild animals, but there was no sign of people.

I’m going to get stranded. Seok Munpyeong thought gloomily. Or maybe he was already stranded.

He knew he was in the mountains, but he couldn't tell exactly which mountain or which forest. He had run so frantically, chasing the faint traces left by Cheonma, that he had ended up here without realizing it.

`The forest is so dense, I must have left the Xinjiang region… but where the hell am I?`

He tried to retrace his path in his mind to get a rough idea of his location.

`I came a long way east, so is this Gansu? Or Qinghai? Dammit. The trees are too thick, I can't even see the shape of the mountain.`

Munpyeong sighed and sat down on the ground. The dampness from the wet earth soaked into his clothes, but he didn't care. His clothes were already a mess from the sweat of the past day and a half. If he were to wring them out and dry them, he’d have enough salt for the winter. He was hungry from missing meals, and his thirst was indescribable.

Letting out a deep sigh, Munpyeong rubbed his face with both hands.

This is insane. The ways this man finds to torment people are truly varied.

Recalling the face of the culprit who had driven him to this state, Munpyeong ground his teeth. If he could, he would kick him in the jaw the moment they met, but his opponent was not someone he could do that to, so he could only grind his teeth.

Munpyeong's ordeal had begun a day and a half ago, when Cheonma had woken up.

That day, too, Munpyeong had headed to the Thunder Palace. The tense atmosphere that had followed Gwak Jin-mu's careless remarks had loosened somewhat after a few days had passed without incident.

He hadn't completely let down his guard, but being so routinely ignored by Cheonma had gradually eroded his initial caution.

`What could happen? It's been fine so far.`

As time passed, his mind eased, and he even began to have carefree thoughts. He had developed a so-called "safety complacency."

He arrived at his usual time and entered the bedchamber. As expected, Cheonma was still in the middle of his night. "What does he do at night to be so deep asleep every morning?" Munpyeong wondered idly as he went to his spot and resumed his game of becoming air.

Cheonma woke up long after Munpyeong had assimilated with the air. He pulled the bell cord as always, and the morning ritual that followed, almost like a ceremony, proceeded in nearly the exact same order.

Yes, ‘nearly’ the same. If not for the unexpected event at the very end, that day's morning ritual would have ended as peacefully as any other.

“Bring me my long robe.”

After finishing his breakfast and rinsing his mouth with tea, Cheonma spoke in an indifferent tone. Yehwa and Ranran, who were just about to withdraw after attending to him, looked up.

They cautiously met each other's eyes before turning to look at Cheonma. Yehwa, being the older of the two and acting as the elder sister, spoke quietly.

“Which robe shall I prepare?”

“Anything will do. And put some E'rui tea in a tea caddy for me.”

The next thing Cheonma ordered was not his usual favorite tea, but the famously mild E'rui tea. E'rui tea was a famous tea from Sichuan, known for its delicate taste and subtle aroma.

It was a tea completely contrary to Cheonma's tastes as Munpyeong had observed them so far. And he wasn't asking for it to be brewed, but to be put in a caddy. From this point, Munpyeong began to feel a sense of foreboding.

The swift maids prepared what Cheonma had ordered in an instant. Draping a black long robe over his comfortable white under-robes, Cheonma slipped the tea caddy into his sleeve and stood up.

At Cheonma's clear intention to go out, the two maids knelt and said in clear voices, “Have a safe journey.” Cheonma silently accepted their farewells and walked towards the door.

Munpyeong, who had been fidgeting anxiously at this unexpected turn of events, couldn't help but look up in surprise as Cheonma, approaching the door, suddenly stopped.

His gaze, lifted unconsciously, met Cheonma's. It was the first time their eyes had met in almost ten days, but it didn't last long. Cheonma, passing by Munpyeong in a fleeting glance, looked back. He quietly surveyed the room, where only the kneeling maids remained, and in a quiet voice, called the names of those who did not show themselves.

“Demon Shadow.”

“Yes, Cult Leader.”

Voices, their source unknown, came from all directions. It sounded like at least three or four people. Munpyeong, who knew there were Demon Shadow in the room but not how many, was frankly a little surprised. He wondered how so many people had managed to remain hidden without a trace until now.

“Do not follow. I will cut you down.”

Cheonma’s warning was indifferent. But that made it all the more absolute.

Despite receiving the supreme command, the Demon Shadow couldn't readily answer. Their mission was to follow Cheonma from the shadows and protect him, but being repeatedly ordered to abandon that mission put them in a difficult position.

But it wasn't as if they could dare to say no. Cheonma was Cheonma, after all. He was the master of not only their lives but their very souls. Defying his command was not an option for the Demon Shadow, who were more loyal to the Cult and the Cult Leader than anyone.

The Demon Shadow did not answer, but Cheonma turned away. He then walked out of the room with an air of not doubting for a moment that his command would be obeyed.

Munpyeong froze on the spot. Cheonma's command applied to him as well. He was also a Demon Shadow. Though he had yet to see the face or even the tip of a shoe of another Demon Shadow, he was called a Demon Shadow and received a salary befitting one, so he couldn't deny his own identity.

`It's better to follow Cheonma's order, right? Cheonma is much higher up than Ho Wan-pyeong. A member of the Demonic Cult is loyal to the Cult Leader, not the Four Scions.`

Though he had received special orders from Ho Wan-pyeong, Munpyeong, fearing the Cult Leader's command, tried to console himself by thinking that the Cult Leader was much higher in rank than the Demon Shadow Corps Leader, and stood his ground.

Just then, a thin thread of telepathic sound entered his ear. A soft, gentle woman's voice. It was unmistakably Ranran's.

*"The Unit Leader left a message in preparation for today's events."*

Munpyeong, stunned by the abrupt telepathic message from her—who, like Cheonma, usually treated him like a shadow and never even greeted him when their eyes met—doubted his own ears.

But when he narrowed his eyes and looked closely, Ranran's lips, as she pretended to ignore him and clean up, were indeed moving slightly. She was the one sending the telepathic message.

*"A special order is issued to new member Seok Munpyeong. You are to track the Cult Leader's movements. For member Seok Munpyeong, this order takes precedence over any other. Even if you receive a conflicting order, you must follow the initial order."*

Ranran, moving her small, cute lips, relayed an absurd command. Hearing it, Munpyeong felt his breath catch in his throat.

What on earth is she talking about? Munpyeong genuinely wanted to ask.

`Is the Demon Shadow Corps Leader stronger than Cheonma? Can Ho Wan-pyeong beat Hyeonryeon Shang?`

Why was she ordering him to do something she couldn't do herself? She was telling him to go die, and she said it so easily. Munpyeong felt so resentful that he wanted to openly defy her and ask why on earth he had to follow such an order. That is, he would have, if he could.

Dammit, Munpyeong still couldn't use telepathy.

Munpyeong looked at Ranran with a resentful heart. He knew she was using telepathy to hide her identity, so he couldn't openly ask for a reason. Ranran, while tidying up the silk pillows Cheonma had carelessly thrown on the floor, continued to send telepathic messages.

*"Even if you disobey the Cult Leader's order, you will not lose your life. But he said that if you disobey the Unit Leader's order, you will surely die. So, I think it would be best for you to move quickly."*

Her way of commanding something absurd in a calm tone was no different from Ho Wan-pyeong's. Seok Munpyeong shuddered at the perfect reenactment of something he had experienced before. Their actions and their way of speaking were identical.

`Why are they so alike? I've never heard that Ho Wan-pyeong was married, so she can't be his biological daughter… Is she an adopted daughter?`

Seeing the two of them, who were too alike, that was the only thought that came to mind. But what could he do? Whether Ranran was Ho Wan-pyeong's adopted daughter or not, the powerless Seok Munpyeong had no choice but to follow the order she relayed from Ho Wan-pyeong. She had even arranged for Ranran in case he didn't listen, so there was no telling what measures had been prepared in case he refused to the end.

His guess was that Ranran was a spy planted by Ho Wan-pyeong. It probably wasn't a far-fetched assumption. Although being a maid to Cheonma was a high position among maids, a maid was still just a maid. For a woman in her position to be skilled enough in martial arts to use telepathy was difficult unless she was something like Cheonma's favorite concubine. It was unlikely she was recruited late and learned martial arts; it seemed much more likely she was trained in advance and secretly placed there.

Cheonma was frightening, but Ho Wan-pyeong was loathsome. Why had he singled him out and tormented him like this? Seok Munpyeong, who wanted to run out of this damn Demonic Cult not because of Cheonma but because he was sick of Ho Wan-pyeong, ground his teeth, but his body had no choice but to move as commanded.

`Damn it all.`

Muttering a low curse, Seok Munpyeong began to run like mad. Cheonma, with his ethereal movement technique and internal energy far superior to his own, must have already gone quite far. To catch up, Munpyeong had no choice but to run with all his might.

And so he ran.

Until now. For a day and a half. He ran without rest.

During that time, Munpyeong hadn't slept, drunk water, or eaten; he had only run. Of course, he hadn't relieved himself either. He had run for so long that he didn't even feel the need to. He'd probably be constipated after this, but he wasn't in a state of mind to think that far ahead. Whether you die and can't shit, or you're constipated and can't shit, not shitting is the same. If he got constipated, he'd probably curse Ho Wan-pyeong every time he took a dump, but for now, he had to run.

Running like that, he had finally reached this place, and now he felt his physical limits. He had no strength left.

Stopping for a moment, he rested briefly to replenish his energy and then performed a quick breathing exercise. He didn't have time for a full grand circulation, so he only did a simple small circulation, and the qi gathered in his dantian was not much. But it was at least enough to perform the Thousand Li Earth-Listening Technique.

Taking a deep breath, Seok Munpyeong pressed his ear to the dirt floor. As he pressed his ear firmly against the damp earth, he heard a low resonance in time with his own heartbeat. He carefully channeled qi into the Tianxi acupoint behind his ear, which was used for the Earth-Listening Technique. It was an acupoint where a mistake could cause his brain to explode, so Seok Munpyeong's handling of the qi was extremely cautious.

The qi that flowed out through the Tianxi acupoint spread through the ground. The more qi he sent out, the louder the thumping sound became. Eventually, it became as loud as if someone were beating a large drum right next to his ear, but Munpyeong closed his eyes and waited for the moment to pass.

A short while later, the drumming sound changed into other sounds. The hearing, amplified by his qi, had finally moved beyond the pulse of the blood vessels in his eardrum and begun to spread to his surroundings.

Munpyeong lay with his ear to the ground and listened to the sounds of the forest moving. A desolate wind swept through the forest, causing a faint vibration in the tree trunks. He heard the sound of a deer leaping over a rock a hundred feet away, and the sound of a rabbit's front paws digging a burrow in preparation for winter.

As the old man Man had taught him, Munpyeong analyzed the incoming sounds, filtering out the unnecessary ones and searching for what he wanted. He heard the footsteps of animals. The sound of normal walking, running, tumbling, crawling, and, and…

Expanding his senses far out, he detected a bustling noise coming from deep within the forest. The sounds of different animals crying out at once meant that they were fleeing from something in alarm. The sound was spreading to more distant places in a short period of time, at a speed that not even a tiger running at full tilt could achieve.

The sense of a presence suddenly appearing, startling the animals into a hasty retreat, and then their bewildered head-turns was vivid. A speed that passed in an instant. A short landing, a long leap.

`There!`

Munpyeong knew instinctively that the person making that presence was Cheonma.

Because Cheonma's movement technique was so outstanding, Munpyeong, despite his excellent tracking skills, could barely find any traces he left behind. He had been barely managing to follow him by reading the direction from the disturbances in his surroundings like this. This method only told him the immediate direction; if Cheonma changed direction in the middle, he would lose track until he could perform the Thousand Li Earth-Listening Technique again, and if the distance between them grew to more than a thousand li, even that method would be useless. But he had no other viable method, so he had no choice but to try not to fall too far behind and desperately chase after him.

`Dammit. He doesn't even rest.`

Even in the brief time he was performing the listening technique, Cheonma was moving away at a terrifying speed. It was a pace that even he, tracking the traces by sound with his ear to the ground, couldn't keep up with. Growing anxious, Munpyeong stabilized the qi he was circulating for the technique as quickly as possible, got up, and started running in the direction Cheonma was heading. The mountain was so untamed that there were no proper paths, making it difficult to use his lightness skill, but he truly ran with all his might.

The hem of Cheonma’s robe fluttered in the air.

As if there were invisible stairs in the air, he descended slowly into the valley using the Art of Stepping on Air. Watching him, a serene nun with a cleanly shaven head smiled gently.

“Amitabha.”

The nun, quietly chanting the Buddha’s name, approached Cheonma. Though she looked to be well over forty, her elegant features, which hinted at her youthful beauty, still had a way of drawing one’s gaze.

“You’ve arrived, Benefactor Heavenly Demon… Oh my, Benefactor Heavenly Demon?”

She approached to offer a polite greeting but let out an exclamation of surprise upon seeing Cheonma’s newly youthful face. Then, as if flustered by her own reaction, she blushed faintly, a sight that was also quite beautiful.

“How have you become so young? It is you, isn't it, Benefactor Heavenly Demon?”

Just last year, he had visited the hermitage looking like a dignified man in his fifties. Unable to adjust to his suddenly youthful appearance, she asked again in confusion.

The features were clearly those of Cheonma she remembered, but the face was too young. He looked younger than Cheonma’s son, let alone his grandson.

Annoyed by the same reaction he got from every old acquaintance, Cheonma pulled the tea caddy from his sleeve and tossed it to the nun. She caught the caddy, which flew accurately towards her chest, and opened the lid.

Inside was her favorite E'rui tea, and of the highest quality at that. The only guest who brought E'rui tea at this time of year was him. Confirmed of Cheonma’s identity by this proof, she smiled gently. She had been surprised at first by the suddenness of it all, but upon reflection, she thought she could guess the reason for his transformation.

“You have achieved *Rejuvenation*. What incredible internal energy, Benefactor Heavenly Demon.”

Like a mother praising a child for a commendable deed, the nun spoke with a proud expression and joyfully pressed her palms together.

Cheonma, finding this absurd, gave her a light glare. Though she was ten years his junior and her generation was that of his disciples—truly a distant junior—she always acted like an older sister.

If he hadn't known this was her inherent nature, he would have lost his temper a dozen times over, but unfortunately, such a disposition was a gift from heaven and not something his own foul temper could fix.

“For a renowned master of the Orthodox Faction, you seem to rejoice in strange things. I heard the Five Great Clans shut their gates and the Nine Great Sects didn’t even sweep their entrances for days after hearing I’d achieved Rejuvenation. Shouldn't you at least pretend to be a little disappointed? For the sake of your roots, you should at least do that much.”

But Cheonma, being who he was, couldn’t let it pass completely. He teased the nun with a slightly twisted sarcasm. It was a jab suggesting that she, a respected master and a leading figure of the Orthodox Faction, couldn't possibly be genuinely congratulating the achievement of a demon among demons like himself.

“It is because I am of the Orthodox Faction that I am like this, Benefactor. You, who were already without rival in the world, have now become even younger. The world will surely be quiet for a while, will it not? Thanks to you, there will be no needless bloodshed for some time. As a member of the Orthodox Faction and a Buddhist, what could be more joyous than this?”

“So? As long as there’s no bloodshed, it doesn’t matter if the ruler of the world is a demon or a hero, is that it?”

“How can the world belong to one person? You know as well as I do how vast this land is, and how many people live upon it.”

No matter how he tried to pick a fight, the nun just responded gently. Yet, she didn't yield an inch, which was just like her. Cheonma laughed in disbelief and sat down on the flat bench in front of the hermitage. The nun, who had been drying vegetables for the winter on the bench, cleared them away with a neat hand and brought out a tea set from inside.

Cheonma looked around the hermitage, which was as humble as ever. The hermitage, with just one room and one kitchen, was not just small but shabby. The scenery of the valley, with peaks surrounding it evenly like a folding screen, was beautiful, but there was nothing else to see. In the backyard, there was a vegetable patch she tended herself and a quaintly arranged flower garden, but the rest was untouched nature.

This ordinary and simple hermitage had no corner that looked like the abode of the former number one female master, the Sword Empress, Cho Yak-yeong.

`What a frugal old hag.`

Cheonma clicked his tongue softly, tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, and picked another pointless fight.

“Does this damn hermitage ever collapse? It's been teetering for years, but it’s still standing.”

“That’s because I take good care of it, Benefactor. An old body may be old, but a diligent nature doesn’t go anywhere. There’s nothing like a little work to clear away idle thoughts.”

In her youth, she was known by the beautiful name of Red Lotus Dame. In her prime, she earned the title of Sword Empress, the highest honor for a female master. In her old age, she became a nun and received the Buddhist name Myo-won.

She had lived a turbulent life, as varied as her frequently changed names. Yet her gently smiling face was as serene and beautiful as a painting, allowing one to feel her firm, upright spirit.

“Have some tea.”

She had brewed tea with the set she quietly brought out and offered it to Cheonma. Realizing the tea Myo-won brewed was the E'rui tea he had brought, Cheonma quietly furrowed his brow. Seeing the clear displeasure on his face, Abbess Myo-won smiled faintly.

“I’m sorry. This is the only tea I have.”

Abbess Myo-won said, though she didn't sound particularly sorry. Served a bland tea that was neither here nor there, Cheonma grumbled in annoyance.

“What kind of taste is this supposed to have? Why is this always the only thing you have?”

“I can’t help it. You are the only one who sends tea to this old nun, Benefactor.”

Myo-won replied calmly. If that was true, then it was indeed something she couldn't help. Cheonma always brought her the same E'rui tea. As tea was the only luxury the abstemious Abbess Myo-won enjoyed, Cheonma, who always brought her this particular one, creased his brow again.

“Try to enjoy other teas from now on. There are so many famous teas in the world, why do you stubbornly stick to E'rui tea?”

“Why? I like this tea. The times pass and people change, but the one thing that never changes is this E'rui tea. So I feel a lingering attachment. It’s the taste of my childhood, so I never tire of it.”

E'rui tea was grown only near Mount Emei in Sichuan province. Myo-won, who was from the Emei Sect, had grown up drinking it. If she had remained in the Emei Sect, she could have drunk it to her heart’s content, but this was not Sichuan but Qinghai Province, and within it, the deep and high Kunlun Mountains.

Cheonma knew why she had chosen to live in seclusion in this faraway Kunlun Mountains of all places, and so he couldn't reply to her words. He drank his tea in silence, and Myo-won smiled as she poured tea into her own cup.

During the not-so-short time it took to drink a cup of tea, neither of them spoke. Myo-won, who had long finished the tea she received last year and hadn't had proper tea for a while, quietly savored the aroma. Cheonma, his mind complex with various thoughts, silently gazed at the scenery outside.

After some time had passed, Myo-won, having savored the tea to her satisfaction, gently set down her cup. Cheonma was still sitting silently, staring blankly at the cliffs surrounding the Valley of Returning Souls.

“The memorial service this year was held well. As always, the Zhuge Clan sent offerings. They send them to this distant place without missing a single year. It’s truly just like Benefactor Zhuge, isn’t it?”

Myo-won set her teacup on her lap and began to speak in a somewhat nostalgic tone. Cheonma heard her words and smiled coldly.

“Yes. Definitely like her.”

Cheonma answered as if to himself.

Indeed, she never knew how to forget anything. Love, hatred, resentment. Even after more than forty years had passed, she had forgotten nothing. She forgot nothing and forgave no one.

Cheonma was both grateful for and hateful of such a woman. He was grateful that she never forgot ‘him’ for her entire life, and he hated and loathed her attitude of blaming him for the consequences of the sins she herself had committed.

“…You’ve heard that her condition is not good, haven't you?”

“Yes. So I’ve heard. Well, she’s over seventy now.”

Though he recognized her careful, concerned tone, Cheonma answered indifferently. Myo-won looked up at him with a worried expression.

“What do you plan to do?”

“About what?”

“The Qilin Plaque.”

“What about it?”

“Once Benefactor Zhuge Hui-ryeon passes away, the Qilin Plaque will fall into that child’s hands. Since Uncle Un-jeong passed away, there is no one in the world who doesn’t know what the Qilin Plaque can do. If that child, Woo-gyeong, gets his hands on that pendant, it’s obvious what he will do. Even if he has no intention of doing so himself, he will be pushed by the pressure from those around him.”

“Let him. Who cares.”

“Benefactor Heavenly Demon.”

“It’s none of my business, so let him do as he pleases. No matter what anyone says, I am his father’s killer. I have no intention of stopping a rightful revenge.”

Cheonma twisted his lips into a sharp smile. Myo-won, at this response so typical of him, let out a low sigh and lowered her head.

Cheonma’s words were not wrong. He had indeed killed the Sword Hero, Baek Un-jeong, and Zhuge Hui-ryeon’s son, Baek Woo-gyeong, was also the Sword Hero’s son.

Baek Un-jeong, a native of the Kunlun Sect, was a chivalrous and kind-hearted man. In his youth, he was a sworn brother to the Red Lotus Dame, Cho Yak-yeong, and, like her, he was the lover of one of the three divine maidens of the Jianghu, the Green Bamboo Dame, Zhuge Hui-ryeon. He was a hero among heroes who had captivated an era.

The title ‘Dame’ was a term of respect for a celestial fairy, a beautiful way of addressing a goddess. Some forty years ago, the three most beautiful women of the Orthodox Faction were known by the lofty titles of Red Lotus Dame, Green Bamboo Dame, and White Flower Dame. They were known for wearing red, green, and white clothes, respectively, just as their names—red lotus, green bamboo, and white pear blossom—suggested. They were very close, calling each other sister.

Unlike Cho Yak-yeong, who was more interested in martial arts than love, or Nangong Hohye, who was already betrothed in the womb and married early, Zhuge Hui-ryeon, who enjoyed being the center of attention, spread numerous rumors of romance, as befitted her outstanding beauty. As the precious daughter of the Zhuge Clan, recognized for her brilliant talent, and a beauty of her time with countless followers, it was perhaps a natural course of events.

But her lighthearted love affairs ended when she met the Sword Hero, Baek Un-jeong, from Kunlun. She fell for his handsome looks and steadfast attitude at first sight and, forgetting all shame, followed him around until she finally won his heart.

`Those were dream-like days…`

Everyone tends to beautify their youth, but for Cho Yak-yeong, it was especially so. For her, youth referred to the time when the Sword Hero was alive, and in her entire life, there was no time more beautiful than that. Her friends were bound by chivalry and justice, never hesitating to do the right thing, and were bold in their ambitions.

The righteous and steadfast Sword Hero, Baek Un-jeong. The brilliant and witty Green Bamboo Dame, Zhuge Hui-ryeon. The virtuous and lovely White Flower Dame, Nangong Hohye. And the husband of the White Flower Dame, Peng Jiahui of the Five Tiger Fists, known as the most dashing man in the Jianghu.

Cho Yak-yeong still vividly remembered the dazzling days of laughing with those dear friends. The memories of discussing poetry and literature while walking among the willows by the lake, and riding their horses through the night to solve problems upon hearing of injustice, were a persistent illusion that still held her captive.

But those radiant days could never return. Peng Jiahui and Nangong Hohye had disappeared in the Hunan Bloodbath that occurred over forty years ago, and the Sword Hero, their pillar, had died at Mount Longzhong because of the Qilin Plaque.

“As you say, the whole world knows what the Qilin Plaque is. Un-jeong’s death made the pendant so famous, how could they ever forget its name?”

Saying this, Cheonma smiled coldly.

Cho Yak-yeong, who had once hated and resented Cheonma to the point of death, could only give a bitter smile at his unchanged appearance after all this time. He was the one who had started the Hunan Bloodbath and the one who had killed her sworn brother, the Sword Hero. If she hadn't by chance learned the truth about the Qilin Plaque, she would still be viewing Cheonma as her enemy, dreaming of the day she would take her revenge.

Unfortunately, she was the only one who had learned the truth about the Qilin Plaque, albeit belatedly. There were three people who knew the true nature of what happened at Mount Longzhong that year: Cheonma himself, who knew not how to make excuses; and Zhuge Hui-ryeon, who only thought of herself as a victim and refused to acknowledge the truth. So the world only knew the story Zhuge Hui-ryeon claimed, and only believed that story.

Baek Un-jeong’s son, Woo-gyeong, was in the same situation. He only knew that Cheonma had killed his father, not why. The stubborn Zhuge Hui-ryeon did not tell her son the truth she refused to acknowledge.

“It is enough that the Qilin Plaque has called for the blood of the Baek family once. Making the name of the Qilin Plaque famous once more is not something you would wish for, is it?”

Myo-won, having forgotten the resentment of her youth and now living her remaining life in peace, spoke earnestly, unable to sever the few remaining ties to the common world.

She didn't want either of them to get hurt. Baek Woo-gyeong, the son of her tragically lost brother, and Cheonma, who had to kill that brother with his own hands. To her now, both were precious beings.

“In your Orthodox Faction, they say it’s not the duty of a son to live under the same sky as his father's killer, right? Then I should let him fulfill his duty. Is it not enough that I made the child fatherless, you want me to make him a son who failed his duty as well? I can’t do that.”

“You are not making him a dutiful son, but creating a lifelong regret. Please, Benefactor Heavenly Demon. Retrieve the Qilin Plaque. That is the best way.”

“Take back what I once gave? I may have done all sorts of things, but I’ve never done anything like that.”

Myo-won, though it was not her own affair, was deeply concerned and repeatedly made the same request to the unlistening Heavenly Demon. Cheonma, on the other hand, despite her words of concern, repeatedly made nonsensical remarks and deflected the point.

“The Qilin Plaque has two more chances left. No one knows how many more lives those two chances will claim. A bloody catastrophe could erupt unintentionally. We must avoid such a situation, mustn’t we?”

“No. One chance left.”

“What did you say?”

“There is only one chance left, I said. Zhuge Hui-ryeon used a chance at her own whim. It was probably about seven years after that incident.”

Cheonma still remembered that day clearly. The sight of that woman, whom he wouldn't be satisfied with even if he tore her to shreds, Zhuge Hui-ryeon, standing before him with a child who looked just like Un-jeong—that was a memory he could never forget.

“You met with Benefactor Zhuge after that incident?” Myo-won, learning a fact she hadn’t known, asked in surprise.

Cheonma nodded. He leaned back, supporting his upper body with his arms in a relaxed posture, and spoke of that day's events as if they were nothing special.

“I came out when she called with the Qilin Plaque, and there was Zhuge Hui-ryeon. She even had that child, Woo-gyeong, with her. Seven years had passed since Un-jeong’s death, but that wench hadn’t changed a bit. The same snake-like eyes, filled with cold poison, and the same stubbornness that would never admit her own faults.”

Cheonma’s gaze towards Baek Woo-gyeong was bound to be complicated. The sharp jawline, clearly inherited from his mother, and the deep eyes, a spitting image of his father.

In the boy’s face, the image of the only person he had ever loved in the world and the image of the enemy who had erased that person from the world were exquisitely mixed. For a moment, he was endearing because he felt his father in the child, but looking at the mother holding the child’s hand, the child became repulsive.

“Did anything happen when you met?” Myo-won asked worriedly, knowing well both Zhuge Hui-ryeon’s venomous personality and Cheonma’s unbridled temper.

“Ah, nothing much happened. Zhuge Hui-ryeon may be stubborn, but she’s not foolish. In fact, she’s annoyingly smart and clever. And she’s the type who has to have her way in everything.”

She had used the Qilin Plaque to summon him to a mountain valley where two cliffs faced each other. When he arrived, Zhuge Hui-ryeon was standing on the opposite cliff from the promised location. She stood on that cliff and pointed a finger at him, telling the child that he was Cheonma.

“That man is your father’s enemy. You must kill him to avenge your mother’s sorrow.”

Her voice, filled with a desperate grudge, was so detestable. And then, without another word, she descended the mountain. Cheonma was so dumbfounded that he didn’t even chase her.

“…If not for the child in her womb, I would have erased the Zhuge Clan.”

Cheonma said, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

“No, even with the child, I hesitated. I truly wanted to destroy the Zhuge Clan. I wanted to erase from the world anyone who had even a single drop of Zhuge blood.”

Cheonma’s deep eyes darkened. He clasped his hands in front of him and stared down at them. A vivid vision formed and disappeared over his clasped hands. The image of that time when his hands were stained with the blood of someone who should never have been buried was still so clear that he could never forget that person.

“In that respect, the child is no exception. He may be Un-jeong’s son, but he is also that wench’s child. Do you ask if I find the child endearing? Yes. He is endearing. But at the same time, he is also hateful. So I cannot show him complete goodwill, nor can I completely hate him. I still haven't made a decision. Which of the two bloodlines he inherited I should prioritize.”

Abbess Myo-won looked at Cheonma with sad eyes. She knew well what he must be feeling. When she learned the truth of the Qilin Plaque and everything was in chaos, she had felt the exact same way. She felt sorry for Cheonma, yet she couldn't forgive him. She was angry at him for creating such a result, even though she knew it was unavoidable.

An obvious contradiction. A sad self-dilemma of being unable to do either.

“Go and meet the child, Benefactor Heavenly Demon.”

Having passed through so much sorrow and countless regrets, she, now settled in peace, advised Cheonma with a composed demeanor. Cheonma's bitter gaze turned to her. She looked into his deep, dark eyes and smiled quietly.

“If you carry this burden alone, you will never resolve it. Your anguish is too deep and old to be solved by your strength alone. So, go and meet the child. I’m not saying to keep him by your side. Just watch him from a distance. If you meet him directly, even like that, you will know. What kind of existence that child truly is to you.”

Myo-won’s eyes, as she looked at Cheonma, were pristinely clear. Calm, contemplative, yet transparent.

Go and meet the child? Cheonma silently mulled over Myo-won’s advice.

`You mean I should go see the grown-up child, the child who is now the same age as the deceased Un-jeong?`

It wasn't a particularly appealing idea, but her advice had merit. Myo-won was right. If it were a problem that could be solved by just thinking about it, he wouldn’t still be carrying it in his heart.

**Tinkle. Tinkle. Tinkle.**

As he was deep in thought, the unexpected sound of a bell reached his ears. Surprised by the frivolous bell sound, which didn't fit the serene atmosphere of the hermitage at all, Cheonma raised his head.

Abbess Myo-won looked towards the outside of the valley with a slightly flustered expression. The Valley of Returning Souls was a basin shaped like a gourd, with a round belly and a narrow neck. Unless one descended from the sky as Cheonma had done, there was only one way in and out. That was the entrance of the valley, corresponding to the neck of the gourd, and the loud bell sound was coming from there.

“What is that sound?” Cheonma asked. Abbess Myo-won, listening to the incessant bell sound, answered distractedly.

“It’s the sound from the formation I set up outside the valley. It seems someone is trying to enter.”

“Who would dare to do such a thing? Are there still people who don’t know that this place, though named the Valley of Returning Souls, is actually the Valley of No Return?”

“The mountains are not only visited by guests who know the way. Sometimes, people get lost in the mountains and wander here.”

As they talked, the bell sound continued without stopping. Cheonma was getting a little annoyed by the loud noise, and Abbess Myo-won’s face grew worried.

After listening to the bell sound for a while, she finally seemed unable to wait any longer, stood up, and put on her shoes.

“It seems someone has entered too deep into the formation. The outer formation is designed to simply turn back people who wander in by mistake so they don’t suffer, and one only gets trapped upon entering the inner formation… The bell is still ringing, so it seems someone is trapped in the inner formation. I should go and get them out.”

As if she really intended to just go and get them out, Abbess Myo-won stood up empty-handed.

“It is said, ‘The kind do not come, and those who come are not kind.’ How can you go empty-handed, not knowing who has come or with what intentions?”

For someone who had lived her entire life in the Jianghu, her lack of caution was excessive, and Cheonma lightly chided her. It would be one thing if she were a master of palm techniques, but Myo-won was a sword fanatic who had lived her entire life with a sword in hand. What would she do if she went out empty-handed and got into trouble?

“What a strange thing to say. Should a Buddhist carry a sword then? You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

But Myo-won brushed off Cheonma’s concern. She just gave a faint smile as if to say it was fine and left, still empty-handed. Watching her retreating back, Cheonma clicked his tongue.

`The grudges of the Jianghu are so persistent, how can she be so careless? Does she think that just because she has laid down her sword in her heart, everyone else in the world will do the same?`

Cheonma dismissed her excuse of not carrying a sword because she was a Buddhist as something not even a passing dog would laugh at. If what she said was true, then the likes of Shaolin and Emei, who wielded precept blades instead of Zen staffs, were all just fake monks.

Well, that wasn't exactly wrong, but even if they were fake monks, they were smarter than that foolish Myo-won. They never forgot the fact that there was no mercy for the wicked.

The bell sound still hadn't stopped. Cheonma, worried about Myo-won going empty-handed, couldn't endure the incessantly ringing sound that seemed to be urging him on.

He had no choice but to get up from his seat and follow after Myo-won. He owed a debt of gratitude to Myo-won for holding a memorial service for Un-jeong every year. He couldn't let her get hurt in a place where he was present, even if it might be different if he were not there.

When Cheonma arrived at the formation set up at the valley entrance, the situation was a little different from what he had expected. Cheonma lightly tapped the back of Myo-won, who was looking into the formation with an expression of utter bewilderment, unlike her usual calm self.

Like someone caught doing something they shouldn't, the startled Abbess Myo-won whipped around to look at him.

“What is that?”

Knowing full well that she was in a difficult situation, Cheonma bluntly asked the question. Myo-won’s cheeks flushed red. She looked as if she could die of embarrassment and stammered out.

“There’s a person, trapped in the formation…”

Yes, it looked that way to him too. There was a person trapped in the formation. Not at all aware of their presence, though they were only a dozen paces away, the person was writhing on the ground, panting with feverish eyes. It was clear.

Cheonma looked down at the man with an interested gaze. The man, writhing and rolling on the ground like a snake sprinkled with salt, had a face that was familiar to him.

The tail that Ho Wan-pyeong had attached to him. The self-proclaimed Demon Shadow, Seok Munpyeong, whom he had briefly sampled before.

`He didn’t listen to me.`

Cheonma clicked his tongue and thought. He had specifically ordered him not to come, yet he had followed and ended up in this state. What kind of creature was this?

Cheonma was usually merciless towards subordinates who disobeyed his orders, but strangely, he wasn't very angry this time. He had a rough idea of the scheme his disobedient disciple Ho Wan-pyeong had cooked up, and besides, the scene the man was presenting to him was quite a spectacular view.

Seok Munpyeong was lying on his back on the ground. His waist was arched high as if someone were holding him, and his legs were spread wide in a lewd posture.

His upper garment was almost off, having come undone while he was rolling on the ground, and his lower garments were in a precarious state. His flushed face was matted with hair. His unfocused eyes held a mixture of fear and pleasure, a dizzying sight to behold.

“Ugh. No. Don't do this.”

Seok Munpyeong's desperate plea was tinged with tears, his voice trembling faintly.

His reactions were so intense that one could tell at a glance where he was being touched and what was being done to him. He gasped for breath, twisted his waist, and trembled rigidly as if someone had grabbed his buttocks. Tears streamed down from the corners of his reddened eyes.

“No. Please.”

His voice was full of deep anguish, but what followed was a moan so sweet it could make a eunuch hard.

Anyone could see that the man was being raped. Judging by his desperate attempts to push his assailant away, it was a rape by another man. His body bucked helplessly, as if he were being overpowered by a relentless aggressor.

His assailant was invisible, but that made his reactions all the more explicit. Cheonma, finding a rare spectacle, felt his mood improve considerably.

From a human perspective, it was an infinitely pitiful and miserable sight, but Cheonma, watching it, was aroused.

When he had touched him before, he had been just stiff and unyielding, but now he saw that he could put on quite a show.

`Oh my. Look at how he moves that waist.`

Cheonma’s gaze fell on Munpyeong’s instinctive hip movements. He licked his lips greedily, his eyes glinting.

“What kind of formation did you set up to get the kid in this state? Did you set up a Joyful Honey-Sweet Array or something?”

Cheonma asked with interest, a dark smile on his face as he enjoyed the delightful scene. The Joyful Honey-Sweet Array, designed to drain a man's vitality, was a type of lust-inducing illusionary formation and a secret art of the Joyful Pavilion, a group of female cultivators who practiced yin-nourishing techniques.

Abbess Myo-won, who had maintained her purity for over seventy years, was so aghast at Cheonma’s outrageous accusation that her mouth fell open.

She was already flustered by the intruder's absurd state, which didn't match the nature of the formation at all. With a flushed face, she hurriedly explained.

“No, it’s not that. The Annoyance Array is a simple illusionary formation. It's meant to trap someone by showing them what they fear most. It's ambiguous whether it’s an illusion or reality, so one doesn't get too deeply engrossed, and since you only see it, you don't feel it so intensely… I don't know why that person is like this.”

Before she could finish her explanation, another high-pitched moan was heard. As if trying to stop someone from forcing their way into his body, Munpyeong gritted his teeth and raised his arms as if to push someone away. But his assailant seemed to be pushing forward relentlessly, as his waist bucked and his legs twisted even more lewdly.

He was experiencing it so realistically that if one didn't know he was trapped in a formation, they might think he was being molested by a ghost.

“I really don’t understand. It’s not a lust formation like you said, nor is it a formation that induces such strong illusions.”

“Maybe he touched something wrong. Or maybe it’s been set up for so long that a part of it is broken.”

“That’s what I was thinking, so I can’t just rashly deactivate the formation.”

Abbess Myo-won said, still looking perplexed.

“This is going to take some time. What should I do?”

She grew more and more anxious as the virtual intercourse before her eyes deepened, trying her best to safely deactivate the formation. On the other hand, Cheonma, for whom a delay in deactivation meant more entertainment, leisurely devoted himself to watching.

Munpyeong, with his long legs perfect for wrapping around a man's waist, a strong back, and a firm, well-formed ass, was originally Cheonma's type.

If he had met him by chance on the street instead of having him selected by his disciple, Seok Munpyeong would have already experienced in reality what he was now experiencing in an illusion.

“That's strange. The formation is fine. There’s nothing particularly wrong with it.”

Myo-won, who had been painstakingly checking various parts of the formation to rescue Munpyeong from his self-induced violation, turned to Cheonma with a frustrated look. Cheonma just silently raised an eyebrow at her.

She looked wronged again. Though she knew Cheonma was teasing her, she was so upset by the suspicion that her gentle face was filled with vexation.

“I think this is happening not because of the formation, but because of that person. I don't know what it is, but he seems to be fearing something so deeply that he has fallen into the illusion himself. Maybe he has recently exhausted his body, or if not, he might have been subjected to some terrible ordeal. For example…”

“Cult Leader! No. Please, **keuk**.”

“…being subjected to something similar by someone called ‘Cult Leader’?”

Her expression, as she was making excuses, strangely hardened. She listened carefully to the word “Cult Leader” that Seok Munpyeong was repeatedly muttering, and then looked at the “Cult Leader” in front of her with a suspicious face.

Despite being the subject of her suspicious gaze, Cheonma just shrugged as if it had nothing to do with him.

“What do you want me to do? What did I do?”

“The ‘Cult Leader’ that person is calling out to, that’s you, isn’t it, Benefactor?”

“It seems so.”

“…What on earth did you do?”

“Nothing much. At least, I didn't go as far as that kid is imagining on his own. He must have admired me in secret. I am quite handsome, after all.”

Cheonma replied shamelessly.

It was a little-known fact now, but in the previous generation, everyone knew that Cheonma was attracked to young men. Of course, it wasn't the kind of thing that could be said openly, so everyone kept it quiet, but Myo-won, who knew full well that Cheonma only bedded men and never touched women, didn't easily believe his excuse.

“Are you seriously saying that right now? That benefactor is younger than Woo-gyeong. He looks like he could be your grandson!”

“It’s an old tradition for men to seek out younger partners.”

“What kind of…”

“Are you going to leave that kid like that? If you leave him be, he’s about to have another round with ‘me’.”

At Cheonma’s sly remark, Myo-won turned her head and saw the man panting and shaking his hips as if reaching a climax. She hurriedly began to deactivate the formation.

The front of the man’s pants, who was alternating between sweet moans and gasps, was already soaked with the white fluid that had burst forth.

“Namu Amita Bul. Namu Amita Bul.”

She chanted the Buddha’s name fervently in her heart as she deactivated the formation and approached the writhing man. The young body thrashed obscenely.

It was a lust-filled scene she had never witnessed even in her prime, and she didn't know where to look.

Even after deactivating the formation, she approached the man, who was still out of his mind, and pressed his sleep acupoint. The sweat-soaked body went limp in her arms. The young man’s face, after being violated in an illusion, was as pale as if his essence had been drained.

***

A huge shadow fell over him.

Munpyeong struggled to break free from the weight pressing down on him, but the man on top didn't budge. Instead, his body pressed down with terrifying force, as if applying a crushing knee.

Their naked skin touched directly. The man’s deep chest, hard collarbones, firm abs, and the iliac crest below—the contours of the man's naked body were felt with frightening clarity against his own.

The man raised a large hand and grabbed his waist. The waist, caught in a hand of an inhumanly large size, ached as if it would break. A long tongue licked down his nape. A thick, long tongue that felt more like a beast’s than a human’s. Goosebumps rose on his skin. His heart pounded wildly with terrifying fear.

“D-don't.”

Overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of intimidation, Munpyeong couldn't confidently push the man away and instead pleaded with him in a tone that sounded more like begging. Hearing his own pathetic plea, the man let out a low chuckle. As he laughed, a low vibration flowed through their pressed chests. Munpyeong shuddered at the sensation, which made him acutely aware of their closely adhered skin.

“Spread your legs.”

The man commanded in a low voice, pinching Munpyeong’s nipple. Munpyeong let out a low scream as the sensitive spot was mercilessly pinched.

`Spread my legs? Why should I!`

Alarmed, Munpyeong tried to close his legs, but he couldn't stop the man's knee from parting his thighs. A thigh as thick as an average woman's waist pushed between his legs, crushing his soft testicles and vulnerable perineum. Munpyeong let out a low groan at the feeling of having his delicate parts mercilessly exposed. He was so scared that tears came to his eyes.

He desperately tried to push the man’s body away, but he could only squirm; the body on top of him didn't move an inch.

“I’ll fuck you, so spread your legs. Shh. It’s okay, right?”

The man said, as if soothing a child, and grabbed his buttocks.

`Fuck me with what, you son of a bitch? What’s okay about this!`

Curses erupted in his mind, but they didn't come out of his mouth. Only a plea that he himself could only think of as pathetic managed to escape.

Naturally, the man didn't react to his words at all. His buttocks were caught in the man’s massive hands without much of a struggle. The man grabbed each cheek of his round ass and spread them.

Munpyeong tried to kick the man off. But the man, who had sunk his teeth into his nape, just chuckled playfully and didn't stop what he was doing.

“Don’t. Please, don’t!”

Munpyeong just repeated his stale pleas and sobbed. Nevertheless, his ass was still being pried open, and a hot weapon was placed at his entrance. Knowing all too well what that hot, terrifying thing, like a red-hot poker, was about to do, Munpyeong used all his strength to pull his hips back and raised his voice in a plea.

“Don’t do it. Don’t! Please, don’t!!”

But despite his pleas, the man’s laughter only grew louder. Hahaha. The man laughed as if he were genuinely enjoying himself and pushed the terrifying weapon in. The narrow opening was mercilessly stretched as a torrent of fire rushed into his body.

“Agh! Aaagh!!”

Munpyeong thrashed in agony like a harpooned fish and screamed. The weapon went deeper and deeper between his buttocks. It felt like his body was being split in two. The impact, like a log being shoved in, not just a club, made him choke. Munpyeong gasped, unable to catch his breath.

“S-save me. Please!”

Feeling a threat to his life, Munpyeong grabbed the man's shoulder. The man who was tearing him apart responded to his words by thrusting his hips even deeper.

`Not that! I mean save my life, you bastard!!`

“Urk!”

Munpyeong woke up with a choked sound. He had opened his eyes unconsciously, but his breathing, once lost, was not easy to regain. **Cough, cough.** He coughed as he hastily drew in a breath. Munpyeong, dazed and confused, scrambled to sit up.

He was completely disoriented, as if he had just suffered a terrible ordeal. His back was damp with sweat, and his whole body ached. It felt as if his bones and muscles had rebelled and separated from each other.

The most painful part was his lower back. Every vertebra ached as if something was wrong. Munpyeong put a hand to his aching back and looked around with eyes that still hadn't focused.

`Where am I?`

The room he was lying in was very simple. The bed and the table in the middle of the room were crudely made, as if hand-carved, and on the opposite wall hung a thangka of simple brushwork, clearly not the work of a professional painter. Though the walls were just plastered with mud, the room was neatly organized, and a faint scent of incense wafted from somewhere.

`A hermitage… is it?`

Feeling the overly neat atmosphere of the room, Munpyeong cautiously guessed. If not a hermitage, it would be the house of a devout old villager.

`Is this the house of the person who saved me?`

Munpyeong, wiping the sweat from his clammy neck with his hand, fell into thought.

`What happened to me to end up in the care of the owner of this house?`

Munpyeong, puzzled that he couldn’t readily recall the situation before he lost consciousness, paused while rubbing his neck. He felt a wound on his fingertips. He had rubbed it without thinking, and a scab must have come off, as his skin stung.

Munpyeong carefully examined the condition of his nape. The skin on the back of his neck was scraped, as if it had been rubbed on the bare ground. It wasn't a deep wound, but a fairly large area seemed to have been abraded, as his entire back neck stung. It looked like someone had wiped the blood and applied herbs, which was why he smelled of a foul odor.

`What is this…?`

Staring blankly at his fingers, stained with the green juice of crushed herbs, Munpyeong searched his confused mind. After some effort, the memories began to return. Munpyeong closed his eyes and slowly retraced his memories.

His memory began again from the point where he was tracking Cheonma. After repeatedly performing the Thousand Li Earth-Listening Technique, Munpyeong had finally managed to barely read the direction Cheonma was in. Munpyeong ran in that direction without delay. He thought he shouldn't fall too far behind, so he used his lightness skill desperately. The distance between them was so far that he was in danger of losing the trail. Munpyeong ran and ran, with no time to look around.

How long had he run like that? Munpyeong, with his exceptional senses, suddenly felt something was amiss but ignored it and kept running forward. Then, he suddenly realized that his surroundings were strange. A moment ago, it had been broad daylight, but suddenly the surroundings became dark, and the perfectly normal forest and rocks had all disappeared.

`Something is wrong.`

Startled, Munpyeong hastily stopped and looked around.

His senses suddenly became numb, as if he had entered water. No matter how hard he listened, there was no sound, and no smell stimulated his sense of smell. Even the air that touched his skin felt heavy and oppressive. There was only darkness around, and a ghostly silence flowed as if nothing existed in the vicinity.

`Damn it. I'm trapped in a formation!`

Munpyeong thought, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. In such a deep mountain, he should have guessed there might be a hermit's abode… Munpyeong, who had just run without thinking, belatedly realized his mistake and berated himself painfully.

He didn't know what kind of formation it was, but once he was caught, he couldn't move rashly. Munpyeong, knowing well what happens when one moves carelessly inside a formation, stood frozen in place as if he had stepped on a venomous snake.

`What should I do?`

He stood there, fidgeting and in deep thought. He had no idea how to get through this difficult situation. He knew nothing about formations and felt completely helpless.

Just then, the shadow of a person appeared before him.

Munpyeong looked up with a wary expression. A man walked towards him, parting the dense darkness. He was a towering figure, at least four inches taller than his own six-foot frame, with an overly perfect body. The man was someone Munpyeong knew well.

“C-Cult Leader?”

Munpyeong called out to the man in a bewildered voice. The person who had appeared before him was none other than Cheonma Cult Leader. He stared at Munpyeong with a blank expression.

Munpyeong was startled by the appearance of the unexpected person. As soon as he realized who the man was, his timid heart began to pound violently.

`Did he know I was following him? Is that why he lured me here on purpose?`

As he tried to figure out how Cheonma could have appeared in this situation, he came up with increasingly ominous hypotheses.

`Don’t tell me Cheonma set up this formation?`

He had boldly disobeyed a direct order from Cheonma and had been caught red-handed by the man himself. Munpyeong, with more than a few things to feel guilty about, was so on edge that he couldn't stand it.

Munpyeong couldn't even meet his eyes and lowered his head. Cheonma was staring down at him. The gaze that fell on his lowered head was so indifferent that he couldn't even guess what Cheonma was thinking as he looked at him.

“I behold the glorious master, the Cult Leader. L-loyalty.”

After standing there foolishly for a moment, Munpyeong belatedly composed himself and paid his respects. As he knelt, trembling, the shadow of Cheonma fell over his head.

`Oh, oh no.`

A heavy hand came down on the shoulder of Munpyeong, who had stiffened at the ominous premonition. *Hah*, Munpyeong let out a low gasp and looked up at Cheonma with frightened eyes. As he looked up in a daze, he saw Cheonma’s face, which had come right up to his.

Unexpectedly, Cheonma was smiling. With terrifying eyes glittering with an unusual emotion.

Munpyeong tried to scream, but unfortunately, the sound couldn't escape his mouth. Cheonma's hot tongue had descended upon him. Cheonma ruthlessly pushed him to the ground, and Munpyeong fell backward, pinned beneath him.

The rest was a hell he didn't even want to describe. Cheonma, as if regretting the unfinished business from before, came at him relentlessly, and Munpyeong was violated again and again, crying until his throat was hoarse.

His ass, mercilessly impaled by Cheonma’s massive member, was covered in blood, and his back, which swayed along with Cheonma's thrusts, was so pained that he couldn't even straighten it.

It really hurt. It was to the point of wanting to die. All his worst imaginings had become reality.

`In the end, it happened. I shouldn't have dismissed Gwak Jin-mu's words so lightly. I should have expected this to happen!`

Recalling all the past memories, Munpyeong fell into a deep sense of despair.

Munpyeong shed tears of injustice, yet he couldn't stop blaming himself for being so foolishly careless. The sensation of Cheonma tearing through his insides was too vivid. His back was still stiff and his ass heavy, as if he were still inside him. His anus must be severely torn as well.

`My poor ass. My poor anus.`

Munpyeong caressed his backside with a deep sense of mourning. He wanted to check for himself just how terrible the damage was.

But for some reason, his ass was fine.

`Huh? This can’t be right.`

Flustered, Munpyeong threw off the covers and examined his body from head to toe. He undid the black long robe he wore over his naked body and meticulously inspected himself, his expression turning pale with astonishment as time went on.

Contrary to his expectations, his body was surprisingly undamaged. There were no hickeys that had stained his skin, no bruises from a strong grip. There were a few scratches that looked like they were from tree branches, but no other injuries were found anywhere. And most surprisingly, his ass was really fine!

It was a little sore, but there was no blood, and it wasn't torn. He even put his hand in to check, just in case, but there was really no injury.

“To start masturbating the moment you wake up. An unbelievably lewd body.”

A very familiar voice came from the doorway. Munpyeong, who was about to snap back at the person for making such a shameless remark, turned and paled upon realizing the person's identity. It was, of all people, again, Cheonma.

Cheonma, dressed in a white casual outfit, was leaning against the doorway. He stood with his arms crossed and his long legs crossed in a delinquent manner, a thoroughly rascally posture.

His handsome face was full of mischief, and Munpyeong, realizing the reason was his finger inspecting his own anus, quickly pulled his hand away. To be precise, he hadn't inserted it into his anus but had been feeling around the area, but since he was sitting with his legs spread and his hand behind him, it was an easy mistake to make.

“…C-Cult… Leader. Glory… It’s an honor…”

Munpyeong, so ashamed of being caught in a compromising position that he felt like he could die, stuttered incoherently. He had opened his mouth to greet him, but his mind was in such a jumble that no proper sentence came out.

Munpyeong’s dark complexion turned not just red but crimson. His face, flushed as if he had been doused in mulberry juice, was a mess of shame and humiliation.

Like someone whose clothes had been forcibly stripped, Munpyeong pulled up the blanket to cover his body and couldn't even lift his gaze, lowering his head.

“You were up to some interesting things.”

Cheonma, observing Munpyeong’s state with a savoring gaze, slowly began to speak.

It was a series of incomprehensible situations. Munpyeong, lost in confusion, curled up his body until his hot nose touched his knees and scooted backward. It was an unconscious action to avoid Cheonma's gaze, but Cheonma’s eyes, watching him, narrowed even more with amusement.

“Was I good?”

He asked an abrupt, out-of-the-blue question. Munpyeong reluctantly raised his head at the question, which was clearly directed at him. He wanted to disappear into the ground, but Cheonma kept talking to him, and it was driving him crazy.

But whatever his feelings, he couldn't ignore the Cult Leader’s words. Munpyeong opened his mouth with difficulty.

“What, what do you mean by that…?”

“In the formation, I mean. Judging by your reaction, it seemed you were seeing an illusion featuring me, and it was quite interesting. It was the first time in my life I’ve been cast as the lead in such a flamboyant illusion.”

`Illusion? What illusion?`

Munpyeong didn't immediately understand what Cheonma was saying and just blinked his eyes. Cheonma kindly provided a supplementary explanation for him.

“Don't you remember? You were caught in the formation at the valley entrance. It was just a simple illusionary formation, but you were so thoroughly enchanted that you were rolling around as if you were being molested by a ghost.”

Cheonma taunted him in a soft, gentle tone.

`I-illusion? That was an illusion?`

Feeling a dull pain as if he had been hit on the back of the head with a blunt object, Munpyeong was speechless for a moment.

No way. He couldn't hide his shock. Was all of that really an illusion? The strong grip that had forcibly spread his legs, the immense weapon that had pierced his body, the pain of being bitten and chewed on at the end—all of it?

`S-so that’s why there were no scars? Because it was all an illusion?`

Considering his own surprisingly clean body, it was a plausible explanation. But Munpyeong, despite the clear evidence before him, couldn't readily believe Cheonma’s words. He felt as if Cheonma were deceiving him.

“…Lies.”

Munpyeong muttered without realizing it.

`Where in the world is there such a realistic illusion? Is the person who cast the formation some kind of Guiguzi?`

Munpyeong vividly remembered the weight of the man on top of him, the sensation of his skin touching his, and even the breath whispered into his ear. But he was being told that all of it was fake.

`That was an illusion caused by the formation? I was deluded?`

Hearing this after going through everything made him feel somehow wronged. In his heart, it felt as if he had really been violated, but to be told that it wasn't true, he didn't know who to seek compensation from for his feeling of injustice.

“How was I in your illusion?”

Cheonma walked towards Munpyeong, who was still reeling from the shocking truth. Sauntering. That was the only way to describe his slow footsteps, yet Munpyeong was reminded of a predator. Like a leisurely beast before its cornered prey, Cheonma, approaching Munpyeong who had his back to the wall with nowhere else to run, exuded the aura of a perfect predator.

“What did I do for you? Did I suck you well? Surely I didn't just fuck you without any foreplay, right? Did I give you any foreplay? I noticed last time that your nipples seemed sensitive, I hope I touched them properly.”

Munpyeong thought that every word Cheonma uttered was like a fatal technique mixed with killing intent.

`What is he asking? What kind of answer does he want from me!`

The act that had felt completely real was actually an illusion, and while he had been mentally raped, in reality, he hadn't.

Munpyeong, unable to collect his thoughts at the news he didn't know whether to be happy or sad about, was mentally battered by the relentless barrage of Cheonma’s attacks.

“Judging by your expression, it seems not. Yes. I thought so. I watched you being subjected to my illusion, and you didn't look like you were enjoying it much.”

Cheonma, who had been speaking nonchalantly, suddenly furrowed his brow. At the displeased look on his face, Munpyeong’s heart sank.

“To be honest, I wasn't pleased. Even if it was an illusion, it was an illusion based on me. The idea that I just made my partner cry without letting them feel properly is a blow to my pride. Do you think I'm that bad? Do you think at my age I can't handle a partner properly and just cause pain?”

Munpyeong wanted to retort, "Didn't you actually do that?" But directly challenging a man's pride was a very dangerous thing, so he couldn't bring himself to say what he truly thought. Munpyeong just mumbled evasively.

“No, not really…”

While he was struggling to answer, Cheonma didn't listen.

“Don’t tell me you’re judging based on what happened last time, are you? Without taking into account that it was a rather special situation. If that’s the case, I’d be disappointed. Very disappointed.”

“C-Cult Leader.”

“I'll make you scream in a different way from what you experienced in the illusion. I'm not the type to leave someone who misunderstands me alone.”

After finishing his words with a firm tone, Cheonma smiled ominously. Munpyeong didn't know exactly how he smiled, but at least, that's how it looked to him.

`Is this what they call adding insult to injury? No. This is like falling backward and breaking my nose, my ribs, and all ten of my toes.`

Munpyeong tasted a dizzying despair, as if the ground beneath his feet had completely disappeared. To be in a position where he had to be pinned down and made to cry by Cheonma just because he had one bad illusion. Munpyeong was so wronged he couldn't stand it.

`Why is it my fault I had that illusion? If you want to complain, go complain to the person who made the formation that way! Why are you picking on me? What did I do? What did I do so wrong?`

His lips, which had held back all the words he wanted to say, had to say, began to tremble.

“What are you doing here, Benefactor Heavenly Demon?”

Seok Munpyeong, who felt wronged, resentful, and utterly frustrated to the point of going crazy, couldn't hold back any longer and opened his mouth. Or rather, he was just about to open his mouth when a clear voice, completely out of place in the room's atmosphere, cut in between them.

Munpyeong, his eyes welling up with tears from immense frustration, looked up towards the source of the sound.

Cheonma, clicking his tongue in disappointment, moved aside, revealing the figure of the person who had been hidden by his oversized body.

The person who had spoken to them was a nun in a gray robe, with a petite frame. Though she looked to be over forty, she still retained the delicate beauty of her youth and was very elegant and beautiful.

She was carrying a basin full of clear water and a dry towel at her waist. Seeing this, it seemed the nun before him was the one who had treated the wound on his neck.

“He’s mine, so I was just checking his condition.”

`Of course, he must mean ‘my subordinate.’` Munpyeong, even at this point, tried to escape reality.

“Don’t torment him already. He just woke up.”

She chided Cheonma in a soft but clearly reproachful tone. Cheonma shrugged as if to say, "What did I do?" and slowly backed away.

The nun, sighing quietly at Cheonma's shameless attitude, turned to look at Munpyeong. She put on a bright smile on her dark face and spoke to him kindly.

“You’ve woken up earlier than expected. I’m glad. Your energy was very weak, and I was worried you might not wake up for a long time.”

Her smile was truly benevolent. With a warm nature that could be felt in her gentle gaze and a clear, soft demeanor like a child's, she had a way of making people feel at ease. A complete opposite of someone who made you feel an ominous aura just by standing there.

“Thank you, Abbess. I am indebted to you.”

Munpyeong, who had barely managed to compose himself at her sudden appearance, respectfully bowed to her. The nun smiled slightly and quietly pressed her palms together.

Up close, she looked a bit older than her first impression. She looked to be well past not only her forties but her fifties. Nevertheless, her still delicate beauty hinted at how glorious her youth must have been.

`Who is she?`

Munpyeong, while captivated by her beauty, did not let down his guard about her identity. He judged that a person who could casually scold Cheonma and lived in a valley armed with such a strange and frightening formation could not possibly be a normal human being.

She may look beautiful and kind on the outside, but she might actually be an old demoness of a previous generation. Munpyeong was even taking it a step further and making such speculations.

`Who knows? Maybe even that beautiful appearance is maintained through some wicked method. Maybe this nun is actually an old master from the Joyful Pavilion who maintains her youth by stealing the vital essence of young men. That formation was strange too. It was just like a lust formation. Cheonma said it was an illusionary formation, but what kind of illusionary formation would make you see such a terrible scene? It must have been a lust formation.`

Munpyeong, having just been violated by Cheonma, was on high alert. He steeled himself not to be deceived by the nun’s appearance and clutched his robe.

Abbess Myo-won, though she couldn't know what Munpyeong was thinking, clearly realized he was wary of her and smiled bitterly.

`Poor child. Well, it's not surprising he's reacting this way.`

Abbess Myo-won thought, chanting the Buddha's name inwardly.

She had a fairly accurate guess of what had happened between Cheonma and Munpyeong, and she pitied Munpyeong with a sense of sorrow.

To her, who was over seventy, Munpyeong was a person of a much younger generation, almost like a grand-disciple. Though he was a robust adult man, in the eyes of an old woman, he wasn't entirely so, and she was thinking of his predicament with the feeling of tending to a lost child.

“Since you are a martial artist, you must know your own body well. Your mind and body are not in a good state right now. You have been greatly disturbed after pushing your body to the point of exhaustion and seeing illusions. You should rest as much as possible. My hermitage is a humble place for one person, so it may be inconvenient, but you are welcome to rest here for as long as you wish.”

She placed the basin and towel she had brought on the table next to the bed. If Munpyeong had remained unconscious, she would have washed him, but since he was awake and wary, she was considerate enough to let him wash himself.

“Then, rest a little more. If you get hungry, go to the kitchen. I’ve buried some yams in the ashes of the hearth.”

She stood up from her seat and urged Cheonma to leave the room. Munpyeong watched her leave with an anxious expression until the end.

When the door closed and the two of them disappeared, the tension finally left his shoulders.

His back was clammy with the cold sweat he had shed from excessive tension. Munpyeong took off the black long robe that was sticking to his skin due to the sweat and cleaned his body with the water from the basin she had left.

As he washed his body and inspected it carefully, there were no signs of a sexual encounter. All of it had truly been an illusion conjured by the formation.

As time passed, Munpyeong, feeling more and more that what he had experienced was not real, sighed while washing himself.

He had really experienced some strange things in his life. Was it Zhuangzi's dream, where he couldn't tell if he was a man who had dreamed of being a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming of being a man? Munpyeong truly felt like he had just had a long dream.

`Well, anyway, let’s put that aside.`

The troublesome situation before him did not end there. In fact, the worst possible situation that could arise from it was now facing him, so Seok Munpyeong couldn't dwell on his thoughts for long.

It was all well and good that what he had gone through was all an illusion. No matter how unfair it felt to be swayed by an illusion, it was better than it being real.

What was troubling Munpyeong now was the aftermath. Cheonma, using the incident in the lust formation as an excuse to demand something absurd. How on earth was he to escape from such a Heavenly Demon? That was the immediate challenge before him now.

`Why is he so bent on devouring me? Am I the only man in the Demonic Cult? Am I the only easy subordinate? Why me!!`

It was a threat to his chastity that he had never experienced even when he was a helpless orphan rolling around the barracks. He wasn't a beautiful boy of thirteen or fourteen; he was over thirty, six feet tall, and had never been called small, let alone pretty or handsome. Yet Cheonma was seriously eyeing him. He might not have been before, but he certainly was now.

Munpyeong, holding the wet cloth in his hand, fell into deep thought. The water dripping from the cloth ran down his thigh, but he didn't even feel the cold.

How could he avoid the "imperial favor"? It was a worry that the concubines in the nine-layered palace would scold him for, saying he was blessed and didn't know it, but for him, it was a real problem.

***

“On that matter, absolutely not.”

His pale eye-rims flushed red with agitation. On another person, it might have been an unsightly blush, but on Po Yeong-ui, whose skin was exceptionally fair, only a faint flush colored his eye-rims. It was a peach-colored blush that spread beautifully, like a woman’s carefully applied eye makeup. Ho Wan-pyeong, his face set hard, looked at Po Yeong-ui. Po Yeong-ui, with a sharp gaze, met Ho Wan-pyeong’s without flinching.

Several days had passed since he first brought up the Qilin Plaque. Yet Po Yeong-ui’s attitude had not changed. Despite Ho Wan-pyeong’s repeated persuasion, Po Yeong-ui remained stubbornly opposed. Not only stubborn, but also firm, to the point that it was Po Yeong-ui who was now trying to persuade Ho Wan-pyeong.

He, who always maintained a cool demeanor and rarely got excited, was now angry and even shouting over this issue. Thanks to this, the war of nerves between the two of them always ended up going nowhere.

“No. This time, absolutely not.”

Po Yeong-ui repeated the word “no” as if it were the only word he could say.

“Do you not know our Master? No matter how much Master favors you, Senior Brother, he will not forgive such a thing. My god, the Qilin Plaque! You know as well as I do how sensitive he is about matters related to the Qilin Plaque! He is a man who has never allowed any interference, let alone mention, of that matter until now. Do you think he will forgive it now?”

Po Yeong-ui said, almost shouting. But Ho Wan-pyeong did not budge. He had anticipated this reaction from the beginning. It would have been stranger if Po Yeong-ui had meekly accepted it without this much of a reaction.

“I know. But what can I do? There is no other way to prevent the coming tragedy.”

“Is what will happen to Baek Woo-gyeong the only tragedy? Is what will happen to you not a tragedy, Senior Brother?”

Po Yeong-ui, flabbergasted, openly sneered.

“Those are two different problems.”

“How are they different? Whether a kinsman kills a kinsman, or a master kills a disciple, the blood on one’s hands is the same. Do you think this is for Master's sake? I absolutely do not. It seems to me that you are just wasting a life to postpone something that will happen anyway! Even if this matter is settled with the price of your blood, Senior Brother, what will you do next? The next time this happens will be after you are in the other world. How do you plan to stop it then?”

“I will block the path so that the next thing doesn't happen.”

“By what means?”

“I intend to destroy the Qilin Plaque.”

“Senior Brother!”

“That is the cleanest way. If I destroy the path itself, how can he ever reach this place?”

While one man was about to die of frustration, Ho Wan-pyeong, the one who had set his heart on fire, even smiled. Po Yeong-ui, feeling that he couldn’t change his mind, clutched his forehead at the surging headache.

He didn't know what to do with this crazy senior brother. This mad dog, who saw nothing but his master, who threw away his own life and everything else to follow only his master—how on earth was he supposed to stop him?

Their master, Cheonma, was a person who lived by a standard distinctly different from ordinary people. He would accept what others considered an unforgivable rudeness as a matter of course, yet he would fly into a rage over things that most would let pass.

His standards of judgment also changed with his mood of the day; he was extremely whimsical, forgiving one day what he wouldn’t the next.

Despite such a capricious nature, he was completely different when it came to matters related to the Qilin Plaque. On this matter, the master maintained a consistent attitude; he had always been firm, allowing no access to it whatsoever.

“But I can’t do it alone. I will need your help.”

Ho Wan-pyeong looked up at Po Yeong-ui with serious eyes. It was a place of certain death, as they both knew, yet there was not a shred of shame in Ho Wan-pyeong’s attitude as he asked him to go hand in hand.

“You speak of dying together so easily. I will pretend I didn’t hear you.”

Po Yeong-ui coldly cut off his request.

“Yeong-ui.”

“Senior Brother, if you think of me as your junior brother, please do not drag me into such matters. Just because your own life is cheap, does that make other people’s lives cheap too? I, who am trying to stop you, am right, and you, who insist on doing it, are wrong. Do not show me any more disappointing behavior, Senior Brother.”

Po Yeong-ui said, grinding his teeth. Ho Wan-pyeong, at Po Yeong-ui’s attitude, could clearly see how angry he was with him over this matter. Yet he couldn’t give up on persuading Po Yeong-ui. As he himself had said, this was something he couldn't even attempt without Po Yeong-ui’s help.

Zhuge Hui-ryeon, from the Zhuge Clan, a heroine who had commanded her era, was not an easy person to deal with, even on her sickbed. And the Zhuge Clan estate where she resided was a fortress among fortresses, surrounded by all sorts of strange formations and traps, a place that could truly be called a dragon’s den and a tiger’s lair.

It was a mission to infiltrate such a Zhuge Clan estate and find the location of a treasure. Without the information network of the Privy Council, which Po Yeong-ui controlled, finding the whereabouts of the Qilin Plaque was truly impossible. Moreover, stealing the Qilin Plaque might be a task that even with the Privy Council’s information network, would still be insufficient.

“This is for Master’s sake. Isn’t it?”

“I have told you I do not think so.”

“I believe this is the right path. One should not stain one’s hands with the blood of family, if nothing else. No matter how magnanimous our Master is, he will not be able to easily forget such a thing. Yeong-ui, I do not want such a tragic thing to happen to him. He is the one who raised you and me.”

“I am well aware that I owe a great debt to Master. He is the one who raised me to this position, when I might have ended up as just a male concubine. That is why I cannot waste myself so carelessly. Because I cannot throw away the opportunity he has given me so recklessly.”

Bickering. The conversation between the senior and junior brothers continued for a long time without any progress. Both Po Yeong-ui and Ho Wan-pyeong did not back down an inch from their respective positions.

Ho Wan-pyeong, who couldn't achieve his goal without Po Yeong-ui’s help, clung to him tenaciously, and Po Yeong-ui, who had no intention of getting involved in a dangerous matter that could cost him his life, continued to refuse his plea.

Po Yeong-ui’s angry face was now so flushed that his cheeks and neck were mottled with red. It was an angry face that even Ho Wan-pyeong, who had known him his whole life, had never seen before.

Unable to bear it any longer, Po Yeong-ui stood up from his seat. Ho Wan-pyeong also stood up and grabbed Po Yeong-ui’s wrist.

“Yeong-ui!”

“Let go of me. I will take my leave.”

“Help me.”

“I cannot.”

“I’m begging you. Please reconsider. This will not be a bad thing for you either.”

“Do you think I am a child who can be swayed by sweets? I know better than anyone that this will not turn out as you say.”

Despite Ho Wan-pyeong’s assurance, Po Yeong-ui was cynical. Of course. He knew his master’s temperament as well as Ho Wan-pyeong did.

“I will not let any harm come to you. I will try my best to end it with just my life.”

Perhaps realizing his words were not working, Ho Wan-pyeong added a condition. Hearing this, Po Yeong-ui snorted in disbelief. This wasn't child’s play. What kind of promise was that? Was that something he could just promise on his own?

“Do you think that will go as you wish, Senior Brother?”

“I will make it so. That is my promise.”

“I don’t want your life to be lost either. What are you trying to do right now?”

“Don’t think of it that way. This won’t be a great loss for you either. Think about it. If I disappear, the person closest to the position of Little Cult Leader will be none other than you. The second brother, who has no interest in worldly affairs, and the youngest, who is a woman, cannot inherit the position, so you are the only one left. The position of the next number one under heaven. The leader of the Demonic Cult, the successor of Cheonma. That position will be yours.”

Ho Wan-pyeong said desperately. Hearing his words, Po Yeong-ui’s face froze. Po Yeong-ui, who stood motionless for a moment, finally lifted his eyes after a long time. He stared at his senior brother, who was speaking such presumptuous words about something he had never even imagined, with a look of disbelief.

“Did you think that was what I wanted, Senior Brother?”

Po Yeong-ui asked coldly, barely managing to calm his trembling voice.

It was just a facade that he seemed to be maintaining his composure; inside, he was completely shattered. His lips trembled with an unspeakable humiliation. An enormous sense of betrayal, which he had never thought he could feel until this moment, engulfed his heart.

`All the sincerity I have shown until now, did Senior Brother interpret it all as just that?`

Po Yeong-ui was speechless at the unexpected shock. The loyalty he had offered him. The heart that would willingly follow his will, whatever it was. Ho Wan-pyeong had not seen it properly.

He had unhesitatingly done things he didn't want to do for his sake, and when the situation required him to get his hands dirty, he had willingly stepped forward and dirtied his own. But Ho Wan-pyeong had dismissed all the sincerity and affection he had shown as mere pretense. The true thoughts he had harbored in his heart, though not outwardly expressed, were ultimately that.

He saw Po Yeong-ui as an ambitious man who was covetously eyeing his senior brother's position, while acting with utmost loyalty in front of him.

He thought Po Yeong-ui was trash.

It felt as if the mask on his face would fall off at any moment. His stomach churned, and bile rose in his throat. He felt like he was going to vomit. Not wanting to show how awful he felt, Po Yeong-ui tried to maintain a cool demeanor and pull his arm away from Ho Wan-pyeong’s grasp. But Ho Wan-pyeong tightened his grip. It was useless to try to use his internal energy in his frustration; a stronger force was pressing down on his wrist.

“I am not insulting you. I am telling you how desperate I am. So desperate that I would abandon the position in the cult that was everything to me. I am saying that this matter is so important to me that I would willingly abandon the position of Master's successor, the position of the next number one under heaven.”

“Don’t lie. I know well that you are not one to place meaning in such things, Senior Brother.”

Po Yeong-ui replied coldly.

“You overestimate me. Am I not human? I am a martial artist and a man, why would I not have ambition? If it weren't for this matter, I would never have abandoned them. They are positions I would have cherished and worked hard to make my own.”

Po Yeong-ui bit his cold lips. He stared at Ho Wan-pyeong with bruised eyes and thought.

`No. That’s not it. You would have cherished them because Master gave them to you. Because he was going to place them in your hands, you couldn't throw them away even if you thought them unnecessary.`

Po Yeong-ui, who knew Ho Wan-pyeong better than he thought, saw through his lies at once.

This man was always like this. Po Yeong-ui closed his eyes with a desolate heart. From the first time they met to this very moment. For that dizzyingly long time, his eyes had been fixed on only one person.

Like a loyal dog that crawls back to its master's feet no matter how many times it's kicked away, Ho Wan-pyeong, who had aligned all his values with Cheonma alone, was sickeningly obsessed with just one thing.

`To a person like that, to a person who desires only one thing so much, what on earth was I hoping for?`

Po Yeong-ui, knowing everything, laughed hollowly at his own heart for being hurt anew.

A terrible emptiness filled his heart. It felt like something used to be there, something very bright and important, but now, he truly felt nothing.

`Do you want to give it all away that much? Do you really not regret it at all? Not even a little hesitation? You’re giving away your entire self. Your life, your very being, your honor. It’s no different from throwing away everything you’ve built up your entire life. Are you really okay with that?`

Po Yeong-ui asked Ho Wan-pyeong’s face in his mind with a cynical sneer.

“Senior Brother.”

He knew without hearing the answer. Ho Wan-pyeong would surely say he was fine. He might even go a step further and say it was an honor to be able to do so for his master. The Ho Wan-pyeong he knew was that kind of man.

But, even if Ho Wan-pyeong was fine with it, Po Yeong-ui was not. He could never tolerate seeing the things he could never obtain, no matter how much he wished for them, being thrown away like trash.

“I do not desire such things.”

Po Yeong-ui opened his eyes, his face frozen cold. His trembling heart began to freeze. The tears that had gathered heavily, the shattered and broken pieces of his heart, everything in his chest froze like ice. No, it was more like it had become a corpse.

“The things that Senior Brother never truly cherished. The things he only considered a burden—I have no interest in them either. If you need my help so much, Senior Brother, then give me something else. Give me not what you want to give, but what I want to receive.”

Po Yeong-ui heard his own dry, rustling voice. Though it was his own voice, it sounded vague and distant, as if he were listening to someone else speak.

“If you do that, I will help you.”

Finally, Po Yeong-ui answered. To Ho Wan-pyeong, who had been trying to persuade him by betting everything, he had surrendered, not on the condition of receiving the trash he was throwing away as unnecessary, but on the condition of getting what he wanted.

Ho Wan-pyeong’s face brightened upon hearing Po Yeong-ui’s answer. Po Yeong-ui saw this and smiled faintly.

`Yes. I knew you’d be happy. You really did bet everything. But you have no idea, do you? What price you will have to pay me. You can’t even begin to imagine.`

At least, until after everything was over, until he personally demanded the price in front of him, Ho Wan-pyeong would not realize what he had to give Po Yeong-ui. Not until he had finally taken what he had always wanted from him.

Po Yeong-ui looked at Ho Wan-pyeong’s face with a feeling he couldn't tell was joy or sorrow. It occurred to him that he was no less a fool than Ho Wan-pyeong, but that didn't matter either. When it came to matters concerning Ho Wan-pyeong, he had never been smart to begin with.