Hyeok Ryeon-eung was presumed to be one of the top leaders of the Three Realms. To Bu Eunseol, he was a formidable adversary.
Yet, Bu Eunseol approached him with a calm expression.
“Clan Leader.” Bowing respectfully, he offered the utmost courtesy. “Have you been well all this time?”
This greeting wasn’t directed at a Three Realms leader or a spy, but to Hyeok Ryeon-eung, the chief instructor who had saved his life in Hell Island and the Hyeok Clan Leader of Majeon.
“Hohoho.” Hyeok Ryeon-eung, seeing through Bu Eunseol’s intentions, gave a warm smile and nodded.
“It’s been a while.”
The Hyeok Ryeon-eung he had seen in Hell Island exuded an imposing aura, with eyes that radiated unapproachable authority. But now, he seemed like an entirely different person.
His demeanor was gentle, and his eyes were filled with profound wisdom, as if he were a military strategist commanding tens of thousands of troops. If he had altered his voice, expression, or gaze, Bu Eunseol would have taken much longer to recognize him as Hyeok Ryeon-eung.
“You’ve grown splendidly,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung said, looking at Bu Eunseol with an expression of admiration, as if appreciating a fine work of art. “Far beyond my expectations.”
For a moment, Bu Eunseol’s eyes wavered. He recalled Hyeok Ryeon-eung’s urgent expression when he halted the tournament in Hell Island to save him.
That memory alone made it impossible for Bu Eunseol to strike first.
“Why me?” he asked, voicing the question that had long lingered in his heart. “Why did you save me?”
The question carried layers of meaning.
“Hm.” Hyeok Ryeon-eung let out a soft chuckle, looking at Bu Eunseol with a complex mix of emotions.
“Because your comprehension was the most exceptional among the prodigies of Hell Island.”
He turned his gaze to the distant sky. “But what I truly valued was your temperament, capable of surpassing the limits of your physique and martial talent to become a supreme demonic master.”
“…”
“There were many talented prodigies in Hell Island, but you were the only one with the temperament to reach the pinnacle of this domineering path.” Hyeok Ryeon-eung’s piercing gaze swept over Bu Eunseol. “As expected, you became the successor of Majeon. But there was something I didn’t foresee.”
He shook his head with a wry smile. “You possessed far greater abilities and qualities than I anticipated.” Looking at Bu Eunseol with a bittersweet expression, he continued, “As the successor, you were supposed to constantly clash with the Ten Demonic Sects, stirring endless turmoil in Majeon. But there was no such conflict or chaos.”
His sharp eyes wavered like ripples. “You even subdued the Ten Demonic Sects one by one whenever you had the chance. That… was not supposed to happen.”
Bu Eunseol vaguely understood his words.
Hyeok Ryeon-eung had likely expected him to become Majeon’s successor and constantly clash with the Ten Demonic Sect Leaders. But Bu Eunseol’s actions defied those expectations.
Because being the successor of Majeon wasn’t his goal. His only aim was to find the one who killed his grandfather.
But there was a reason even Bu Eunseol himself hadn’t realized: he possessed the qualities of a righteous hero.
His spirit held the potential to become either a supreme demonic master or a righteous martial artist of the orthodox sects. In the end, he chose a middle path, leading to actions Hyeok Ryeon-eung couldn’t have predicted.
“You moved in ways completely different from my expectations,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung was saying.
The Three Realms had always manipulated factions and individuals to suit their desires.
“So that’s why you summoned me,” Bu Eunseol said, his eyes flashing with intensity. “Because the puppet meant to be controlled is moving on its own… you called me to put the strings back on?”
Hyeok Ryeon-eung nodded candidly. “Exactly.”
Bu Eunseol took a deep breath. With such a straightforward admission, there was nothing more to say.
Even if he asked about the Three Realms, Hyeok Ryeon-eung wouldn’t answer. To him, Bu Eunseol was merely a puppet to be strung and controlled, unworthy of explanations.
“Are you confident you can string me up?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“Hohoho. I know your martial progress has advanced at an unimaginable pace. By now, you’ve likely reached the perfect Extreme Heaven Realm,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung said casually. “Even if I’m a master of the Infinite Realm, you probably calculated that escaping alone wouldn’t be impossible. That’s why you came here, right?”
Bu Eunseol nodded. Even if Hyeok Ryeon-eung was an Infinite Realm master, even if all the warriors of the King Wei's Manor surrounded him, he was confident he could break through and escape. That’s why he had come alone.
“In martial history, few have advanced their martial realm as quickly as you. You can take pride in that,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung said with a faint smile. “But unfortunately, you know too little.”
Suddenly, Bu Eunseol’s vision went dark.
Hyeok Ryeon-eung’s voice and gaze, everything he had heard and seen, had woven a transparent net, ensnaring his spirit.
“Soul-Seizing Spirit Words.”
Only then did Bu Eunseol find the answer to a long-standing question: how Hyeok Ryeon-eung had maintained a dual identity in Majeon, even under the Demon Emperor’s watch.
It was because he had not only built an impenetrable mental barrier beyond even the Demon Emperor’s perception but had also reached the pinnacle of the mind-control secret art, capable of manipulating others’ spirits at will.
“What a pity, but there’s no helping it,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung’s voice melted into Bu Eunseol’s ears like silk. “No matter how excellent a chess piece, if it moves on its own, it’s useless.”
Thud, thud, thud…
Each time Hyeok Ryeon-eung spoke, Bu Eunseol’s spirit shook to its roots, and his senses gradually faded.
Soul-Seizing Spirit Words.
Astonishingly, Hyeok Ryeon-eung wielded the mind-control secret art of the Illusion King, Sa Okcheong, with even greater skill and power than the Illusion King himself.
“Were you his sect brother?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“Sect brother? Hohoho,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung smirked. “You mean that poor fool who mastered the Soul-Seizing Spirit Words to only fifty percent and earned the grandiose title of Illusion King, only to die by your hand?”
His sweet voice tightened around Bu Eunseol’s throat like a demon’s claw. “Sa Okcheong was merely one of my disciples who learned the mind-control art from me.”
Bu Eunseol’s eyes trembled. The Illusion King was nearly ninety years old. How could Hyeok Ryeon-eung, not even seventy, be his master? Had he transcended age to take an older man as his disciple?
“You must have many questions, but what’s the point of knowing?” Hyeok Ryeon-eung said, stepping closer. “You’ll soon be a speechless puppet.”
Bu Eunseol furrowed his brow. He had kept talking to Hyeok Ryeon-eung to see how he referred to himself. But he never used titles like “Clan Leader” or “Master,” only the simple “I.”
Perhaps it was a habit from hiding his identity for so long.
Crack.
As Bu Eunseol summoned his inner energy, thick veins bulged across his body. Slowly, his rigid body began to move. Astonishingly, he was breaking through the Soul-Seizing Spirit Words.
Shing.
As he drew his sword, Hyeok Ryeon-eung smiled instead. “I valued you not for your martial skills, but for your mental fortitude.”
He approached Bu Eunseol, who held his dark sword, without a hint of concern.
Freeze.
Bu Eunseol tried to unleash his sword technique in one swift motion, but once again, he couldn’t move a finger. Hyeok Ryeon-eung’s Soul-Seizing Spirit Words was on an entirely different level from the Illusion King’s.
The Illusion King used vivid illusions to trap his victims in hallucinations before exploiting gaps in their spirit. But Hyeok Ryeon-eung dominated Bu Eunseol’s mind with just his gaze and voice.
“You’ll make an excellent puppet,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung said with a smile.
Knowing Bu Eunseol wouldn’t yield to persuasion, he was swiftly seizing control of his mind without hesitation.
“I won’t lose!”
Bu Eunseol bit his lip until it bled.
Clang.
Despite his will, the dark sword he held fell to the ground.
“Remarkable. Your body no longer obeys, yet your mind remains intact,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung said, his voice weaving a mystical force that bound Bu Eunseol’s spirit. “It seems pain is necessary.”
He smiled and extended his left hand. “To break a spiritual barrier, searing pain is most effective.”
Whoosh.
A fiery blaze erupted from his palm, forming a sun-like orb.
“The Flame Emperor’s Flame Energy?”
Bu Eunseol’s eyes widened. Not only was Hyeok Ryeon-eung a master of mind-control, but he could also wield the martial arts of the Eight Emperors and Three Stars?
“No need for such a splendid shell for a mere puppet,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung said, extending his hand.
Sizzle!
White smoke began rising from Bu Eunseol’s face as the Flame Energy began to melt his skin, sparing only his eyes.
“Ugh…”
The pain, as if his soul were burning, forced a groan from Bu Eunseol.
He had miscalculated. No matter how strong Hyeok Ryeon-eung was, no matter if the King Wei's Manor’s warriors swarmed him, he had been confident he could escape any crisis. But Hyeok Ryeon-eung possessed extraordinary martial arts that surpassed even the Infinite Realm—arts Bu Eunseol had always been wary of, wielded with effortless mastery.
Sizzle!
As his reddened skin began to melt, even Bu Eunseol’s iron-like spirit started to erode.
“Resist. Don’t resist. Give up resistance…”
His sense of self was fading, assimilating into Hyeok Ryeon-eung’s spirit before him. But only for a moment.
An unyielding will blazed anew in Bu Eunseol’s eyes.
“You’ll never dominate my mind!”
Crack! Snap!
Golden light flashed in his eyes, and his immobile fingers began to twitch. This time, Hyeok Ryeon-eung had miscalculated.
He had been certain that no matter how strong Bu Eunseol’s mental fortitude was, he couldn’t resist the Soul-Seizing Spirit Words. But Bu Eunseol had endured direct spiritual attacks from Infinite Realm masters multiple times before. His mental barrier was far thicker than Hyeok Ryeon-eung had anticipated, resisting the Soul-Seizing Spirit Words even amidst the agony of his face burning under the Flame Energy.
Flinch!
In an instant, Bu Eunseol’s senses returned. “This is the only way!”
Whoosh!
With all his strength, he leaped backward, hurling himself off the cliff.
“No!” Hyeok Ryeon-eung exclaimed, quickly deploying his movement technique and reaching out with a suction technique to grab Bu Eunseol’s collar.
But just as his fingers brushed Bu Eunseol’s clothes—
Swish!
Bu Eunseol’s body spun rapidly, accelerating his fall downward instead of resisting.
Rip!
With the sound of tearing fabric, only a piece of cloth remained in Hyeok Ryeon-eung’s hand.
Whoosh!
Bu Eunseol plummeted down the ten-thousand-foot cliff.
Hyeok Ryeon-eung could only stare as Bu Eunseol’s body became a distant speck.
Splash!
Below the unfathomably deep cliff, a raging river flowed. The river swallowed Bu Eunseol and continued its relentless current eastward, as if nothing had happened.
“Pursue him immediately!” Hyeok Ryeon-eung shouted.
A black shadow descended behind him, bowing before vanishing swiftly. “Use any means necessary. Bring him back, dead or alive.”
Hyeok Ryeon-eung stared down at the misty cliff with a frustrated expression. “What a terrifying guy. To break my Soul-Seizing Spirit Words and leap off a cliff…”
He realized he had made a grave mistake. He had underestimated Bu Eunseol’s abilities. Instead of trying to control his mind with the Soul-Seizing Spirit Words, he should have killed him on sight.
***
Byeokgye Village.
Located at the foot of Byeokgye Mountain in southern Guangxi, it was a settlement of beggars. The number of beggars here was so large that they couldn’t all live scattered around the nearby villages. Thus, they formed their own community, living together as a group.
And into this beggar village came a young beggar with a grotesque appearance. His face was covered in burn scars and thick, unhealed scabs. He sat crouched all day, silent, eating raw bugs or dead rats when hungry, never begging, and spending his time staring blankly into space.
“That beggar will never get even a bowl of cold rice looking like that,” the villagers said, clicking their tongues and shaking their heads.
Begging was a beggar’s duty. A friendly demeanor and polite speech were not optional but essential skills. But this young beggar ignored people, and his hideous appearance made others uncomfortable just by meeting his gaze.
Perhaps aware of this, he sat alone at the village outskirts, staring into the void.
“Mumu! Sitting there again?” called out a chubby beggar with a round face and belly, approaching the grotesque beggar. His name was Fatso, the one who had found and saved Mumu when he was half-dead by the river.
“Why do you always sit alone in the middle of nowhere?” Fatso asked, but Mumu didn’t respond.
Used to this, Fatso sighed and shook his head. “Man, I picked a good name for you. No name, no answers…”
Fatso recalled the first time he met Mumu, the hideous beggar who neither spoke nor begged, only ate bugs in silence.
***
A month ago, while walking by the river, Fatso was startled to find a man collapsed on the bank. His clothes were torn to shreds, and his face was a mess of melted scars and scabs—a truly horrifying sight.
“He’s still breathing,” Fatso noted, cautiously approaching.
“His clothes look expensive…” Fatso grinned. Despite the man’s grotesque appearance, his attire suggested wealth. If Fatso nursed him back to health, he might receive a hefty reward.
So, he diligently gathered herbs and treated the man, but an unexpected problem arose.
“What’s your name, great sir?” Fatso asked.
“Don’t know,” the man replied.
“You don’t know your name?” Fatso’s face fell.
He had hoped for a generous reward once the man recovered, but this hideous man didn’t know his own name or anything else. He was a complete amnesiac, unaware of who he was or why he was lying by the river.
Then something strange happened. As soon as he regained consciousness, the man, seemingly hungry, began picking up bugs from the riverbank and eating them.
Watching this closely, Fatso slapped his forehead in dismay. “What the—? Not a noble, but a beggar?”
The bugs the man ate were ones that could be consumed raw without harm—knowledge only beggars or vagrants typically possessed.
“Sigh, looks like I’ve saved another pitiful soul,” Fatso muttered, shaking his head as he looked at the man’s melted face through his tangled hair.
Since he was a beggar, expecting a reward was out of the question.
“But wait,” Fatso thought, struck by an idea. If he brought this man into the beggar gang, wouldn’t he gain a direct subordinate?
“You’re just a drifter like the rest of us, right?” Fatso said casually, now speaking informally. “I don’t know where you’ve been scraping by, but now that you’re in Byeokgye Village, join our gang.”
The man, indifferent, kept shoving bugs into his mouth.
“Hey! Are you listening? Hey!” Fatso shouted for a while, then felt something was missing.
No name. He couldn’t keep calling his would-be subordinate “hey.”
“No name, huh…” Fatso muttered, then his eyes lit up. “That’s it! Your name is Mumu! No name, no memories, nothing at all!”
Thus, Fatso named the man Mumu and brought him into the beggar gang.
Over time, Fatso learned one more thing about Mumu: he had a wooden personality, ignored others’ words, and ate anything around him—bugs, trash—when hungry, regardless of who was watching.
“Sigh, what a guy,” Fatso said, crouching beside Mumu after finishing his reminiscing.
Being a beggar was said to be a noble calling, but in reality, it was a tough life, barely scraping by and getting beaten regularly. Yet Mumu seemed utterly indifferent, living peacefully as if untouched by hardship or suffering.
Watching him, Fatso felt an inexplicable sense of calm.
Chomp, chomp.
Meanwhile, Mumu, hungry again, was picking up bugs to eat.
Fatso watched him silently.
“What’s that guy doing? Eating bugs again?” came a voice.
Five beggars from the gang approached from the village outskirts—members of the same Byeokgye Village gang as Fatso.
Comments