It was a clear, cloudless day.
Mo Kwang, the gatekeeper guarding the entrance to the Demon Sect, let out a long yawn. Glancing up at the sky, he spoke to his colleague, Jang Sam, standing beside him.
“When we’re busy, I wish things would calm down a bit… but now that it’s quiet, it’s just boring.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Weren’t you the one praying for no one to show up?”
“Who? Me?” Mo Kwang retorted.
“Don’t you remember? Back then.” At that moment, Mo Kwang recalled the carts being carried out of Majeon a few months ago.
The Ten Demon Successors Tournament.
Countless boys and girls who had entered the Demon Sect for the tournament had left as cold corpses.
“Let’s drop that topic,” Mo Kwang said, shuddering and shaking his head.
Though he lacked exceptional talent and served as a gatekeeper, he too had once entered Majeon in his youth with grand ambitions. Witnessing Young Masters, full of dreams, being carried out as mangled corpses filled him with indescribable anguish.
“By the way, I wonder what those chosen as the Ten Demon Successors are up to,” Jang Sam muttered, gazing at the distant sky. “I heard they were sent to the Ten Demonic Sects to learn ultimate martial arts… but what would gatekeepers like us know about such things?”
“Didn’t I just say to drop it?” Mo Kwang snapped, frowning.
At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed.
Step, step.
A figure approached the entrance of Majeon from afar. Dressed in tattered martial robes, the figure had an imposing presence and sharp, gleaming eyes. His face suggested he had just shed the look of boyhood, yet he carried the majestic aura of a lion.
‘This is no ordinary person,’ Mo Kwang thought. Having served as a gatekeeper for twenty years, dedicating his youth to the role, his ability to read people was as sharp as a fortune-teller’s.
“What brings you here?” Mo Kwang asked, maintaining a polite yet dignified demeanor befitting a gatekeeper of the Demon Sect.
But as his eyes met the boy’s, his confident air vanished, and he felt his throat tighten.
“I’m here to see Lord Manbak,” the boy said.
“Lord Manbak?” Mo Kwang tilted his head.
Lord Manbak, Baek Jeoncheon, rarely showed himself and always resided deep within Majeon.
“He’s not someone you can meet just because you ask. Do you have an appointment?” At that moment, Jang Sam, snapping out of his daze, nudged Mo Kwang’s side.
“Didn’t we receive instructions from Manbak Hall yesterday?”
—Within a few days, someone will come to see Lord Manbak. Don’t question their identity and escort them respectfully to Manbak Hall.
“What instructions? I didn’t hear anything,” Mo Kwang replied, having been absent when the message was delivered.
“Forget it. I’ll handle this, so don’t worry,” Jang Sam said, scratching his head as he stepped forward. “Follow me, please. I’ll guide you to Manbak Hall.” As he began to lead the way, Mo Kwang waved his hand.
“What about the guest ledger? He needs to sign it.”
“Shh. This is an order from Vice-Sect Leader Go Hong of Manbak Hall,” Jang Sam whispered.
But Mo Kwang grabbed his shoulder.
“Don’t you remember Lord Kyung-hwa’s warning not to let anyone into the main hall without following protocol?”
“Oh, you inflexible man! I told you, this isn’t your business!” Jang Sam hissed.
As Mo Kwang and Jang Sam bickered in low voices, the boy spoke up with an innocent expression.
“I’ll sign the ledger.” Mo Kwang politely gestured to the table.
“You can write here.” Nodding, the boy picked up the brush and began writing.
—Zhanyang Sect…
The boy gave a wry smile.
“I’ll rewrite it.” Shaking his head, he took the brush again and wrote swiftly with confident strokes.
‘Zhanyang Sect?’ Mo Kwang thought, catching sight of the crossed-out words. A memory suddenly struck him.
‘The boy who came on the last day of the Ten Demon Successors Tournament?’
Mo Kwang could never forget that day. The image of a boy in tattered robes, unflinchingly tearing off his own finger with a crunch and letting blood drip…
‘Has he grown this much in such a short time?’ Mo Kwang discreetly rubbed his eyes. The scruffy boy in tattered robes had transformed into a refined martial artist.
“Is this enough?” the boy asked.
Snapping back to reality, Mo Kwang looked down at the ledger.
—Nangyang Pavilion, Bu Eunseol.
‘Nangyang Pavilion!’ Mo Kwang’s eyes nearly popped out. The Ten Demonic Sects. One of the ten faction names that upheld the Demonic Martial World was written in the ledger!
‘He’s become one of the Ten Demon Successors!’ Mo Kwang’s chest swelled with pride. The last boy he had escorted had overcome all odds to become one of the Ten Demon Successors. It felt as though he had played a part in that achievement.
“Y-Your humble servant…” Mo Kwang stammered, clutching his pounding heart and bowing deeply. “Please, follow me!” Bu Eunseol followed Mo Kwang’s lead, slowly stepping into the Demon Sect.
‘This feels strange,’ he thought. He, too, was filled with emotion. When he had first come here, he was a lowly mortician ignorant of martial arts. Now, he walked through Majeon proudly as a warrior of Nangyang Pavilion.
‘Am I the only one who’s changed?’ Majeon remained as grand and solemn as it had been back then.
“This is Manbak Hall,” Mo Kwang said, bowing as they arrived before the hall near the western courtyard of the Demon Sect. “Someone inside will guide you further.” Bu Eunseol nodded lightly and stepped into Manbak Hall.
As Mo Kwang watched Bu Eunseol’s retreating figure, he clasped his hands together. Wishing blessings upon the boy who had survived trials and tribulations.
“May fortune be with you.”
***
Manbak Hall
Known as the brain of the Demon Sect, Manbak Hall was where brilliant strategists gathered, comparable to the General Strategy Hall of the Martial Alliance. However, unlike the General Strategy Hall, which focused solely on strategy and tactics, Manbak Hall also managed the operations and administration of the Demon Sect.
“Young Master Bu,” a young man greeted Bu Eunseol with a light bow as he entered. “I am Shim Wol of Manbak Hall.”
Shim Wol, with his refined appearance, seemed close in age to Bu Eunseol. Seeing someone his own age, Bu Eunseol realized how Nangyang Pavilion was filled with older men.
“Bu Eunseol of Nangyang Pavilion,” he replied.
“I’ve heard much about you from Lord Manbak. Please, follow me.” Following Shim Wol deeper inside, Bu Eunseol saw a heavy iron door. “Lord Manbak, it’s Shim Wol,” the young man said respectfully before the door.
“Young Master Bu of Nangyang Pavilion has arrived.” As soon as he spoke, the door opened with a heavy groan, likely operated by a special mechanism rather than human hands.
“Come in,” a voice called.
Inside, shelves lined with books came into view, and beyond a wooden partition was an office with a desk and writing materials. Seated there was a middle-aged man with a refined demeanor—Baek Jeoncheon, Lord of Manbak Hall.
“You’ve grown even more imposing,” Baek Jeoncheon remarked.
Bu Eunseol looked puzzled. Baek Jeoncheon was a high-ranking figure, with intelligence and agility rivaling any master. Why, then, was he showing such courtesy to a novice like him?
“Haha, no particular reason. It’s just a habit,” Baek Jeoncheon said calmly, as if reading Bu Eunseol’s thoughts. “Unlike the Martial Alliance, the Majeon doesn’t place much value on strategists.”
In the orthodox factions, talented strategists were highly valued and utilized. But in the Demon Sect, strategists were often seen as weaklings who relied on brains rather than martial prowess, a reflection of the Demonic Way’s emphasis on dominance and strength.
“Bu Eunseol of Nangyang Pavilion pays his respects to Lord Manbak,” Bu Eunseol said, bowing with utmost courtesy.
He had seen Baek Jeoncheon frequently during the Ten Demon Successors Tournament, and the lord had played a significant role in saving his life alongside Hyeok Ryeon-eung.
“You’re too formal for a Ten Demon Successor of Nangyang Pavilion,” Baek Jeoncheon said with a playful smile. “How is it? I hear Nangyang Pavilion has a unique lifestyle compared to typical factions.”
“It suits me perfectly,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“That’s good to hear.” Smiling warmly, Baek Jeoncheon’s expression turned serious as he broached the main topic. “You’ve heard everything, I presume?”
“Yes,” Bu Eunseol confirmed.
“This situation has put our Majeon in a difficult position. We can’t simply ignore the demands of the Ten Demonic Sects.” Bu Eunseol furrowed his brow.
Ignorant of the martial world’s politics, he knew little about the relationship between the Demon Sect and the Ten Demonic Sects.
“Are Majeon and the Ten Demonic Sects separate entities?” he asked.
“It seems Nangyang Pavilion remains indifferent to martial world affairs, not even informing you about the Ten Demon Successors,” Baek Jeoncheon said with a slight smile. “Majeon is a coalition of the Ten Demonic Sects. They are inseparable, yet not entirely one entity.” Seeing Bu Eunseol’s puzzled expression, Baek Jeoncheon elaborated.
“Typically, the leader of Majeon would come from one of the Ten Demonic Sects, but the current leader is not. Moreover, not all Demonic factions view Majeon favorably. To be frank, the Ten Demon Successors plan is just that—a plan to create ‘warriors’ for the Ten Demonic Sects. It was designed to forge ten sharp blades to deal with the orthodox factions’ great masters.”
Bu Eunseol’s expression remained unchanged. He had already anticipated as much.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Baek Jeoncheon said with a smile, continuing. “In other words, the Ten Demon Warriors Tournament was the Demon Sect’s plan to counter the Martial Alliance’s great masters. Most of the Ten Demonic Sects initially opposed it.”
With a wry smile, he added, “There’s no need to bring in external disciples to kill great masters. That’s why we’re in this situation now.”
—The current Demon Sect has no choice but to heed the Ten Demonic Sects.
That was likely what Baek Jeoncheon meant, explaining why they had no choice but to summon Bu Eunseol, who was training at Nangyang Pavilion.
“I’m fine with it. I’ll face any test,” Bu Eunseol said resolutely.
Baek Jeoncheon let out a deep sigh.
“Do you remember Kang Muryun, the grandson of the White Horse Temple’s master?” Bu Eunseol shook his head, and Baek Jeoncheon continued. “He was one of the three who attacked you at the end. He inherited the ultimate techniques of White Horse Temple but underestimated you and was killed.”
“Three against one… and you call that underestimating me?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“Don’t misunderstand. I know how exceptional your talent is,” Baek Jeoncheon clarified. “But what makes White Horse Temple’s techniques fearsome is their ability to fight multiple enemies as if facing a single opponent.” His voice grew somber.
“But Young Master Kang, by joining forces with his comrades, diluted his focus and failed to showcase the true power of White Horse Temple’s techniques.” Joint attacks required precise coordination and discipline. Without it, allies could destroy each other. That’s why the martial world developed techniques like “combined strike arts.”
“If it had been one-on-one… you might not have defeated Young Master Kang,” Baek Jeoncheon said.
Bu Eunseol didn’t respond, instead changing the subject.
“Is the Chief Instructor not at Majeon?”
Chief Instructor Hyeok Ryeon-eung had risked punishment to save Bu Eunseol. If he were at the Demon Sect, he would have come to see him.
“He’s out in the martial world handling various matters,” Baek Jeoncheon replied.
“Because of me?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“Yes,” Baek Jeoncheon answered honestly. “The Chief Instructor is normally responsible for protecting the main hall. But by stepping away from his duties as a lord to handle matters in the martial world, he’s receiving a form of punishment.”
“Why?” Bu Eunseol asked, voicing a question that had lingered in his heart since surviving the hellish ordeal. “There’s no connection between me and the Chief Instructor.”
His eyes, fixed on Baek Jeoncheon, gleamed with intensity.
“So why did he risk punishment to help me?”
