Stepping outside, a garden filled with beautifully blooming flowers came into view.
The Demon Sect.
Just hearing the name, one might imagine a place teeming with all sorts of malevolent spirits, but in reality, it was adorned like a paradise akin to the Peach Blossom Spring.
Trickle, trickle, trickle.
Following Jin Seol, a small pond comes into sight beside a sprawling flower garden. In front of it stood a picturesque pavilion. Inside the pavilion, a tea table was prepared, and an elderly man, resembling an immortal sage, sat with composure.
“Sit here.”
The old man naturally extended his hand, offering a seat. His voice was low and soft, yet it carried an undeniable authority. As Bu Eunseol took a seat, the old man pointed to a teacup and said, “Drink.”
Those accustomed to giving orders possess a natural aura that overwhelms others. Bu Eunseol could sense that the old man before him not only held a high position but had also commanded countless people.
“This is jade flower tea, made from jade flower petals I personally picked and dried,” the old man said.
Gulp.
After taking a sip of the tea and setting the cup down, the old man asked, “How is it?”
Judging by his expression, he seemed to be asking for an evaluation of the tea’s flavor.
After a moment of hesitation, Bu Eunseol replied briefly, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” the old man asked.
“I’ve hardly ever drunk tea,” Bu Eunseol explained.
The old man, who seemed to already know Bu Eunseol’s background, said with a puzzled expression, “No matter how harsh the life of a coroner may be, to never have properly drunk tea?”
“It was a place where we dealt with those who died without kin or cause,” Bu Eunseol continued calmly. “Most of the work was ordered by the government, and we were paid only a pittance.”
“Hmm,” the old man murmured.
“Above all, I disliked going to taverns. I ate at home, and for tea, I drank plain water.”
“Why is that?”
“I hated the scornful gazes.” Bu Eunseol’s eyes dimmed as if recalling those times. “The stench of death never left my body, so I was often chased out of taverns. Even if I was lucky enough to be let in, I had to gulp down food like it was water.”
“I see,” the old man said, his smile tinged with bitterness. “The Wulong tea from Iron Staff Mountain, where Nangyang is located, is unparalleled in the world. I had hoped you could compare it with this jade flower tea.”
The old man, smacking his lips, looked at Bu Eunseol.
“But it seems you haven’t even been treated to a proper meal, let alone Wulong tea.”
“As soon as I entered, I was too busy training in martial arts,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“That makes sense. Nangyang doesn’t even treat you as a disciple unless you’ve properly mastered martial arts,” the old man said with a chuckle. “Then today, enjoy my tea to your heart’s content. And next time, give me your evaluation.”
He poured more tea into Bu Eunseol’s cup.
“Do you know who I am?” the old man asked.
“I only heard that this is the residence of the Elder Sect Leader,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“Elder Sect Leader, my foot. I’m just the most idle among the old men who can’t seem to die,” the old man said.
This old man was none other than Jeok Bung, the Elder Sect Leader of Majeon and one of the Three Demons among the Three Demons and Three Saints, considered to have reached the pinnacle of martial arts, second only to the Heavenly Demon and Righteous Demon.
He had roamed the martial world for a long time, building a fearsome reputation, with countless righteous sect masters falling by his hand. To think that the legendary Demon Lord, whose terrifying fame shook the martial world, was an old man with the air of a sage.
“Bu Eunseol, a disciple of Nangyang, greets the Elder Sect Leader,” Bu Eunseol said, standing up and bowing formally.
Jeok Bung narrowed his eyes. “You’re a bit different from what I heard.”
Then, he brought up something slightly different from the usual praise.
“I heard you began learning martial arts late, but your joints and muscles are remarkably supple, and your internal energy foundation is solid,” Jeok Bung said, seeming to discern Bu Eunseol’s physical condition and internal energy level with a single glance.
‘Is he testing me?’ Bu Eunseol thought briefly before responding.
“When I was young, I learned breathing techniques while playing a game of lying in a coffin.”
“Breathing techniques?”
“I only realized after entering the sect that it was a method of circulating energy.”
“So, you didn’t start learning martial arts late—you just didn’t know you’d been practicing since childhood.”
“That’s correct.”
“I see,” Jeok Bung said ambiguously, his words carrying dual meanings: “I knew it” or “I didn’t expect that.”
“You’ve been working as a coroner in Pyeongan all this time?” he asked.
“Yes,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“Hmm.” Jeok Bung’s gaze fixed on Bu Eunseol, but it seemed to look far beyond him, deep and profound.
“Well, such things aren’t important,” Jeok Bung muttered softly, a sharp glint spreading from his eyes.
“I’ll get to the point,” he said, his piercing gaze seeming to penetrate Bu Eunseol’s body. “Once you complete your training at Nangyang, join the main sect.”
“Majeon… you mean?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“Yes.”
Clink.
Jeok Bung flicked a droplet from the teacup lid, his eyes sharpening further.
“Though Nangyang is considered one of the Ten Demonic Sects, its structure isn’t suited to be called a true sect.” His voice didn’t seem to come from his mouth but rather struck like thunder from the heavens. “It’s an excellent place for training in martial arts, but for achieving great ambitions, Nangyang is far too small.”
Clink.
“In three years, when you’ve completed your training at Nangyang,” Jeok Bung continued, repeatedly flicking the teacup lid, “I’ll recommend you to the Lord of Majeon as a member of Amcheondae.”
Amcheondae.
Along with Cheonsal and Myeolhon, it was one of Majeon’s elite forces.
In particular, Amcheondae was the Lord of Majeon’s personal elite unit, wielding the greatest authority to “deal with anything” obstructing Majeon. To think that a fledgling disciple fresh from Nangyang would be recommended to Amcheondae?
“You may not know, but joining Amcheondae is akin to grasping the greatest opportunity to rise to the leadership of Majeon,” Jeok Bung said.
Clink.
Flicking the teacup lid again, he asked calmly, “What do you say? Will you accept my proposal?”
After a moment of deep thought, Bu Eunseol looked into Jeok Bung’s eyes and said calmly, “I decline.”
Clack.
At that moment, Jeok Bung’s hand, which had been flicking the teacup lid, stopped. It was merely the act of stopping, but an indescribable sense of unease and danger enveloped the surroundings. The serene air in the pavilion grew heavy as lead, and the bright sky seemed to darken.
“Why?” Jeok Bung asked, the trace of a smile vanishing from his eyes.
In that instant, his appearance seemed to transform from an immortal sage to a demonic fiend.
“I don’t have the luxury to think about such things yet,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“Luxury?”
“Training in Nangyang’s martial arts requires risking my life every day,” Bu Eunseol said calmly. “If I were guaranteed such a position before even mastering the martial arts…”
Pausing to steady his breath, Bu Eunseol continued with a firm voice, “I would fall into complacency and fail to master Nangyang’s martial arts.”
“Hmm…” Jeok Bung let out a low chuckle, then erupted into wild laughter.
“Hahaha! Wahaha!” His earth-shaking laughter carried unimaginable internal energy.
The tremendous shockwave shook Bu Eunseol’s body, his insides trembling, and the coppery taste of blood rose in his throat.
“Good,” Jeok Bung said, abruptly stopping his laughter. The sharp glint in his eyes faded, replaced by a gentle aura. “That’s an excellent attitude for a martial artist.”
Clink.
Nodding, Jeok Bung gently brushed the teacup lid again, and the oppressive air in the pavilion seemed to purify.
“I’ll be watching,” he said in a low voice, closing the teacup lid completely. “To see what kind of person you’ll become in three years.” His gaze shifted from Bu Eunseol to the flower garden—a silent dismissal.
“Then,” Bu Eunseol said, bowing deeply before turning to leave.
He walked slowly back along the path he had come.
Drip, drip.
With each step, beads of sweat fell from Bu Eunseol’s forehead onto his clothes. Though he had maintained a calm expression throughout, his shirt was drenched with cold sweat.
‘If I hadn’t answered carefully…’ Bu Eunseol bit his lip as he walked. When he said, “I decline,” an indescribable, overwhelming killing intent had enveloped him. If his reason for refusal had seemed trivial or displeasing to Jeok Bung? ‘That old man would have ended my life on the spot.’
Drip.
Another bead of sweat slid down his cheek from his forehead.
A wall. For the first time, Bu Eunseol felt an insurmountable wall.
The Elder Sect Leader, Jeok Bung.
He possessed a transcendent aura unlike any master Bu Eunseol had ever encountered. A single movement of his finger could crush Bu Eunseol like an insect. ‘Becoming a martial arts master is a high and treacherous path. I’ve been far too lucky until now.’
In Majeon, in the martial world… there existed monstrous superhumans who had reached unimaginable realms. To achieve his revenge, he realized he still had a long, arduous journey ahead.
Creak.
As Bu Eunseol finally stepped outside,
Swish.
A faint shadow appeared behind the pavilion where Jeok Bung sat. It was a frail-looking young man dressed as a scholar—Shim Wol, who had guided Bu Eunseol to the Demon Sect.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen someone outright refuse your proposal, Elder,” Shim Wol said.
Without turning his head, Jeok Bung replied calmly, “What did you think of him?”
“He definitely has the ability,” Shim Wol said seriously. “The first four moves might be dismissed, but blocking High Lord Go’s final move was no fluke.”
“Wasn’t that just the Hwa Wu Sword Technique?” Jeok Bung asked.
“Even Cheon Un-gwang, who created the Unmatched Thunderbolt, hasn’t perfected that deadly sword technique,” Shim Wol replied, his eyes narrowing as he bowed his head. “If he could use it so proficiently in such a short time after being taught, Cheon Un-gwang would be more than a sect leader—he’d be at least a deputy sect master.”
Shim Wol spoke with great seriousness.
“He was chosen as the successor of the Hwa Wu Sword Sect. Whatever else, his talent for swordsmanship is undeniably genius.”
“Hmph,” Jeok Bung snorted softly. “For now, observe him. See which path he chooses.”
“Understood,” Shim Wol said, bowing before his figure faded into the shadows.
Jeok Bung, as if nothing had happened, slowly picked up his teacup.
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