Ok Hobang’s face paled.
In that moment, he recalled what Black Leopard had said.
—“If you want to see the entire Dongpyoseorang go up in flames, go ahead and do as you please!”
“Bu Eunseol… he’s a warrior of Nangyang?”
“That’s right.”
‘If that’s the case, isn’t he more than capable of wiping out Dongpyoseorang?’ The masters of Nangyang were all unparalleled powerhouses. Even just a few of them storming in could annihilate an entire formidable sect.
And if they had provoked a disciple of Nangyang, of all people? It wouldn’t just be Dongpyoseorang—it’d be Dongpyoseorang’s ancestors who’d be left without even a drop of broth.
“Why would a Ten Demon Warrior of Nangyang…?” So shocked was Ok Hobang that beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “Why would a master from the Ten Demonic Sects come all the way to Guizhou to participate in the Jeongmu Tournament at Dongpyoseorang…?” Muttering to himself, his eyes suddenly widened.
“Could it be that Nangyang has taken issue with Dongpyoseorang?” Mu Samrang shook his head.
“Nangyang generally doesn’t meddle in martial world affairs. Whether Dongpyoseorang dances or destroys itself, they wouldn’t care in the slightest.”
“Then it doesn’t matter, does it?” Ok Hobang, recalling something, spoke up. “If he’s a disciple of Nangyang, shouldn’t he be fighting you instead?”
“That’s not possible.”
“Why not?” At Ok Hobang’s question, Mu Samrang’s eyes curved into crescent moons.
“Because he’s my friend.”
***
A bonfire crackled in front of a desolate, abandoned temple.
Crackle, crackle.
Around the fire, pieces of meat skewered on branches dripped oil as they roasted. Black Leopard, who had been stealing glances at Bu Eunseol, pouted.
“Why are we eating here of all places when there are perfectly good inns nearby?” The area was full of fine inns with skilled chefs.
It wasn’t as if they lacked money either. Bu Eunseol had generously used banknotes to buy fine liquor and snacks before coming here.
“Young Master.”
“I told you to rest at the inn, not to follow me.”
“But I need to eat dinner too.” Black Leopard said curtly. “It’s an unwritten rule in the martial world that the employer provides food and lodging for a hired wanderer.” When Bu Eunseol silently reached into his robes for a banknote, Black Leopard shook his head.
“No, it’s fine. You’ve already bought so much—let’s just eat.” Bu Eunseol had purchased a large jug filled with ten-year-old sorghum liquor and enough roasted chicken to feed five grown men with leftovers.
“I didn’t buy this to feed you.”
“What? You’re saying you’re going to eat all this by yourself, Young Master? That’s too much!” As Black Leopard rambled on, Bu Eunseol, seemingly annoyed, fell silent.
Yet, despite his silence, his gaze held a certain softness, as if he were reminiscing about something.
Crunch.
The sound of leaves being stepped on echoed. Judging by the lively stride, it was clearly a tall, broad-shouldered man.
“I kept you waiting.” Black Leopard turned to see a masked figure cloaked in dark robes standing tall.
Over six feet tall, with arms as long as a monkey’s, the glint in the eyes visible through the mask was reminiscent of a ferocious beast.
‘Why is he here?’ Black Leopard nearly jumped out of his seat in shock.
The masked figure was none other than Mu Samrang, who had forfeited his match against Bu Eunseol.
“Sit.” Bu Eunseol gestured to the spot across from him, as if he’d been expecting him.
Thud.
Mu Samrang sat without hesitation, and Black Leopard subtly shifted further away. The moment Mu Samrang drew near, Black Leopard felt as if invisible needles were piercing his entire body.
‘He’s an even more formidable master up close.’
“Here.” Bu Eunseol tossed the jug, and the masked figure slowly removed his mask.
Swish.
The surroundings seemed to brighten in an instant. Astonishingly, Mu Samrang had a face so refined it could rival a beautiful woman.
Gulp, gulp.
After drinking deeply from the jug, Mu Samrang tossed it back to Bu Eunseol.
“Good liquor.”
“How have you been?”
“Heh, heh, heh.” Mu Samrang chuckled and said, “When did you figure it out?”
“When you said you were forfeiting.”
“You recognized me just from that?” Bu Eunseol, taking a swig from the jug, gave a faint smile.
“You can hide your face, but not your voice.” Bu Eunseol’s smile was unique.
Though it was merely a slight curve of his lips, it felt as if a frozen lake was thawing in spring, stirred by a warm breeze.
“How’s Hell's Blood Fortress?”
At Bu Eunseol’s question, Black Leopard, crouching at a distance, flinched.
‘Mu Samrang is a master from Hell's Blood Fortress?’
“Nothing special. Just eating grotesque poisons and refining venom arts until you’re half-dead.” Mu Samrang, taking another drink, chuckled dryly. “It was better when we fought back-to-back on Hell Island.”
Mu Samrang’s true identity.
He was none other than Seo Jinha, who had once fought alongside Bu Eunseol in the Hell Path. Recognized for his innate talent in venom arts and admitted into Hell's Blood Fortress, why had he appeared in the martial world as Mu Samrang?
“Why…?”
“It’s probably because I completed the Poison Man too quickly. There were two others marked as successors in the fortress.” As if anticipating Bu Eunseol’s question, Seo Jinha spoke calmly. “When my Venom True Scripture showed signs of surpassing theirs, the successor factions persuaded the fortress lord to send me to the Demon Army. Officially, it was to gain experience befitting a Ten Demon Warrior of Hell's Blood Fortress, but…” Taking another swig, Seo Jinha gave a bitter smile.
“They must have been worried. If I kept outshining them, the fortress lord might choose me as the successor.” The Ten Demon Warriors, with their extraordinary talents, were all under scrutiny and pressure from the successor factions after joining the Ten Demonic Sects.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve already joined the Heaven’s Slaughter Unit, so I’m part of the Demon Army now.”
Heaven’s Slaughter (Cheonsal), Soul Extinction (Myeonhon), Dark Heaven (Amcheondae). These three units were not only gatherings of the Demon Army’s elite but also wielded immense authority.
Joining them meant a high likelihood of becoming a high-ranking figure in the Demon Army.
“The Hell's Blood Fortress Lord must have shown some consideration, sending a prodigy like you to the Demon Army instead of keeping you.”
“Maybe. Or perhaps the fortress lord was afraid I’d disrupt the planned successor hierarchy.” Though he spoke as such, a warmth lingered in Seo Jinha’s eyes and expression when mentioning the Hell's Blood Fortress Lord.
From Hell's Blood Fortress’s perspective, sending a prodigy of unparalleled martial talent to the Demon Army was like giving away a treasure. Yet, the fortress lord had willingly let Seo Jinha go, and Seo Jinha respected him for that consideration.
“By the way, seeing you makes Nangyang seem even more terrifying.” Changing the subject, Seo Jinha gave a faint smile. “How do you even get that strong?”
Seo Jinha could sense that the aura emanating from Bu Eunseol surpassed his own.
“I just put in my own effort.”
“Still, Nangyang must be something else. A guy who barely spoke two or three words now talks so smoothly.”
“Did the Demon Army send you?” At Bu Eunseol’s question, Seo Jinha took a deep breath. “Technically, yes. Hell's Blood Fortress made a discreet deal with the main sect. For now, you could say I’ve been sold off to this place.”
“I see.” With that single phrase, Bu Eunseol understood everything. “Even if holding a Jeongmu Tournament is profitable, handing over the Yeongsasin Sword to a complete stranger isn’t easy.”
Seo Jinha, smiling bitterly, asked, “Are you planning to enter the finals?”
Bu Eunseol looked at him as if the question was obvious, but Seo Jinha shook his head.
“Forget about the Yeongsasin Sword. The winner of this tournament has already been decided.”
“The winner’s decided?”
“Guizhou is Hell's Blood Fortress’s territory to begin with. Why do you think the greedy Ok Hobang put up the Yeongsasin Sword as the prize? He was always going to offer it to Hell's Blood Fortress.” Taking another long drink, Seo Jinha continued. “Your opponent in the finals, Yang Myeong. He’s the leader of Hell's Blood Fortress’s Blood Ghost Hall.”
Wiping his mouth, he added,
“And I’m here on the Vice-Sect Leader’s orders to assist in retrieving the Yeongsasin Sword.” Despite the shocking revelation, Bu Eunseol’s expression remained calm.
Staring at the distant sky, lost in thought, he said in a low voice,
“So you defied your superior’s orders because of me.”
“Heh, heh, heh. You’ve really changed. The cold-blooded, emotionless Bu Eunseol is worried about me?” Shrugging as if surprised, Seo Jinha shook his head. “I’ll catch some flak, but there won’t be any punishment. Fighting a disciple of Nangyang as a member of the Heaven’s Slaughter Unit is impossible to begin with.”
Tossing the jug to Bu Eunseol, Seo Jinha said,
“Just give it up.”
“Give up?”
“Divine swords aren’t that rare in the martial world. There’s no need to make an enemy of Hell's Blood Fortress over a single blade.”
Bu Eunseol didn’t respond, only drinking from the jug. Under the moonlight, his face was beautiful yet chillingly cold.
Seo Jinha, glancing at Bu Eunseol’s profile, frowned.
“Think carefully. If you step back from this, you could put both Hell's Blood Fortress and the Vice-Sect Leader in your debt.” But Bu Eunseol remained silent.
Seo Jinha knew.
Bu Eunseol never compromised. He walked his own path, silently and resolutely. A truly cold-blooded, emotionless man.
“Fine. Who could ever break your stubbornness?” If nothing else, the fact that Seo Jinha could say this proved he was indeed Bu Eunseol’s friend.
Knowing he couldn’t sway Bu Eunseol’s resolve meant he truly understood him.
“Can I say one more thing?” Taking a deep breath, Seo Jinha whispered something in a low voice.
***
Boom! Crash!
A rosewood table shattered into dozens of pieces, scattering across the floor.
“Nangyang?” A sinister voice echoed in the dark chamber. Standing before the broken table was a middle-aged man with pale skin and sharp, slanted eyes.
He was none other than Yang Myeong, the Blood Ghost Hall Leader of Hell's Blood Fortress, known as the Venomous Hand Flying Demon.
“Bu Eunseol, that man is a Ten Demon Warrior of Nangyang?” Across from Yang Myeong, by a window where moonlight streamed in, stood a man in black robes and a mask. It was Seo Jinha.
“That’s correct.”
“Why is a Ten Demon Warrior participating in the Jeongmu Tournament?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Who could know the inner workings of Nangyang?” At Seo Jinha’s leisurely response, Yang Myeong’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“Then why did you forfeit?”
“Ten Demon Warriors are disciples directly trained by the Ten Demonic Sects. I can’t fight them, can I?” As Seo Jinha continued to answer nonchalantly, a murderous glint flashed in Yang Myeong’s eyes.
“You must have been watching the tournament closely. You knew he was from Nangyang, didn’t you? Why did you forfeit without consulting me?”
“I really did intend to fight at the time.” Seo Jinha smacked his lips.
“When he dealt with Seomun Kyung, I thought it’d be worth a match. But standing face-to-face in the arena, I realized it wouldn’t do.”
“Enough!” Yang Myeong’s temper finally exploded. “This mission was something I begged the fortress lord to entrust to me!”
Yang Myeong, the Blood Ghost Hall Leader, was a man of great ambition, aiming to become the future leader of Hell's Blood Fortress. That’s why he volunteered for the task of retrieving the Yeongsasin Sword, which he didn’t have to take on.
And yet, Seo Jinha, a member of Hell's Blood Fortress, had acted on his own and nearly ruined everything?
“If you knew he was a Ten Demon Warrior of Nangyang, you should have reported to me first!”
Yang Myeong’s fury was understandable.
Though the position of Blood Ghost Hall Leader wasn’t particularly high, he was still a member of Hell's Blood Fortress, one of the Ten Demonic Sects. When Yang Myeong entered the Jeongmu Tournament, the martial world criticized him.
—Isn’t this tournament blatantly rigged?
A master from Hell's Blood Fortress, which held Guizhou in its sphere of influence, participating in Dongpyoseorang’s Jeongmu Tournament?
It looked like an obvious move to claim the Yeongsasin Sword. Fortunately, the emergence of rising stars like Bu Eunseol and Seomun Kyung had heated up the tournament, but cold gazes still followed Yang Myeong.
“As per the original plan, I was supposed to lose to the unknown master, Mu Samrang, and settle for second place!” Gritting his teeth, Yang Myeong shouted again.
“But because you acted on your own, even winning now won’t look good, will it?”
“You?” This time, Seo Jinha’s eyes, as he stood with his arms crossed, glowed red. “Hall Leader Yang. Do you still think I’m part of Hell's Blood Fortress?”
“What?”
“My affiliation is with the Heaven’s Slaughter Unit. I’m only here to assist with this mission on the Vice-Sect Leader’s orders. I have no ties to Hell's Blood Fortress.”
“Seo Jinha. Have you completely forgotten the grace of those who raised you?”
“Grace?” A viscous green light gleamed in Seo Jinha’s eyes. “You mean the grace of throwing me into a venomous pit to kill me, all to preserve the successor hierarchy? Or when I survived, sending the masters of the Seven Venoms Hall to assassinate me?”
As Yang Myeong fell silent, Seo Jinha snorted and turned away.
“I joined the Heaven’s Slaughter Unit on the fortress lord’s orders. With that, my ties to Hell's Blood Fortress are severed.” Seo Jinha walked slowly toward the door, passing Yang Myeong.
“I’ve forgotten both grace and grudges. So don’t provoke me any further.”
Bang.
As he left the chamber, a murderous aura flickered in Yang Myeong’s eyes.
“No choice, then.” In the darkness, a faint mist rose from Yang Myeong’s body as his eyes gleamed.
Hiss.
The scattered table fragments began to melt silently upon contact with the mist. A truly terrifying venomous art.
“First, I’ll kill that Nangyang mongrel, then deal with you, Seo Jinha.”
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