Death Shadow Pavilion, Bu Eunseol’s office.
Bu Eunseol looked at Yoo Hwaryeong, guided in by gate guard Mo Gwang. Having gained much Kangho experience since then, his aura had improved tremendously. However, his complexion wasn’t good, and worry filled his eyes.
“Come in.” Bu Eunseol greeted Yoo Hwaryeong first upon seeing him. “Have you been well?”
His voice was friendlier than before.
Yoo Hwaryeong was the one who had approached him unreservedly after the Dongpyoseorang Contest and led him to the Thousand Swords Society. And thanks to that, he had been able to master the Radiant Sword Control, becoming a great help in crises….
For that alone, Yoo Hwaryeong was someone worthy of Bu Eunseol’s warm greeting.
“Whew.” Seeing Bu Eunseol, Yoo Hwaryeong couldn’t hide his surprise and widened his eyes. “You’re really…. the same person who traveled Sichuan with me?” Exclaiming repeatedly, he swallowed his astonishment and shook his head.
“I’ve been hearing rumors of you shaking the martial world through our society’s network…. but to progress this much.” Bu Eunseol’s appearance hadn’t changed at all from when he saw him in Sichuan.
But the aura flowing through his entire body was incomparable to then.
‘Human ability has limits….’ Yoo Hwaryeong drew a deep breath.
Bu Eunseol’s martial progress was truly unprecedented.
“Moreover, now you’re the Death Shadow Corps Corps Leader of Majeon….” Continuing while gazing at Bu Eunseol in formal Corps Leader robes, Yoo Hwaryeong made an “ah” sound.
“My apologies. My apologies. I’ve committed a grave discourtesy.” Only then realizing his mistake, he clasped his hands. “Old memories surfaced uncontrollably…. and I was rude.”
A Majeon first-class Corps Leader transcended rank and status, conversing equally with most sects’ leadership. As flustered Yoo Hwaryeong bowed his head, Bu Eunseol smiled faintly.
“It’s fine. Call me as you please.”
“How could I dare.”
“I haven’t fulfilled my promise with the Thousand Swords Society yet.” Bu Eunseol looked at Yoo Hwaryeong with clear, upright eyes. “Until then, before the Thousand Swords Society, I’m merely Nangyang Pavilion disciple Bu Eunseol.”
—Until I keep my promise with the Thousand Swords Society, no matter my status, I’m just a mere disciple.
That was what Bu Eunseol was saying.
“I see. You’re still the same.” Deeply moved, Yoo Hwaryeong’s body trembled lightly. “Just like when we traveled Sichuan together.”
He was moved.
The Thousand Swords Society had received Bu Eunseol’s promise to kill one person in exchange for transmitting the Radiant Sword Control. But Bu Eunseol’s current status was Nangyang Pavilion’s legitimate successor and a first-class Corps Leader of Majeon.
Even for the Thousand Swords Society, with wealth and power rivaling great powers, he was untouchable. Yet Bu Eunseol hadn’t forgotten the promise and showed resolve to fulfill it faithfully.
“My late master said as much.” Drawing a deep breath, Yoo Hwaryeong said in a calm voice. “That even if the heavens fell, you’d keep your promise. That’s why he unreservedly transmitted our society’s secret ultimate art.”
“Late master?” Bu Eunseol wore a puzzled expression. “Did the Master of the Seventh Seat pass away?”
“Yes.” Yoo Hwaryeong bit his lip and said as if vomiting blood. “By the hand of the one who destroyed our society.”
Bu Eunseol’s expression blanked momentarily.
The one who had slain all of them despite receiving the full sword arts essence of the Thousand Swords Society’s Tenth Seat and fled. The peerless sword demon whom Seok Song and Woo Hak called a ‘devil,’ the Thousand Swords Society’s arch-nemesis.
Had they finally found him?
“You’ve located him?”
“Yes.” Agonizing pain dwelled in Yoo Hwaryeong’s eyes. Only then did Bu Eunseol understand why Yoo Hwaryeong’s complexion had been poor.
“I see.”
“Could you kill him for us?” Bu Eunseol couldn’t reply immediately.
Of course, he had no intention of breaking his promise with the Thousand Swords Society. However, in a month, he had to lead the Blood Martial Corps to annihilate the Black Alliance.
Moreover, wasn’t he resolved to pursue the forces that burned the Seongga Ironworks and manipulated Seok Woohaeng from the shadows?
‘Is this fate too?’ Conversely, he had a month, and pursuing Seok Woohaeng’s manipulators could wait.
And Yoo Hwaryeong’s arrival felt fated.
—In the end, fate decreed I couldn’t go to the Thousand Swords Society.
The words of the Bullet King, Bukgung Ryeong, whom he met in the Martial Emperor’s Secret Vault, flashed in his mind.
“Does this involve the Bullet King by any chance?” Yoo Hwaryeong’s expression turned surprised.
“How did you know? Ah, don’t tell me….” He recalled the long-ago false rumor that Bu Eunseol, Majeon’s successor candidate, had clashed with the Bullet King and perished.
“Did you hear it directly from him?” Recalling that time, Bu Eunseol shook his head.
“No. I just heard that he intended to visit the Thousand Swords Society but ultimately missed the deadline and couldn’t go.”
“I see.” Yoo Hwaryeong said regretfully. “He was close with the First Seat. He promised to help with this matter but never appeared.”
Only then could Bu Eunseol grasp the situation.
Bukgung Ryeong had been trapped in the Martial Emperor’s Secret Vault while pursuing him, failing to keep his promise with Seok Song.
‘It really feels like fate.’ Nodding, Bu Eunseol asked calmly.
“What faction does he belong to?” Back then, the reason the other prodigies, excluding Bu Eunseol, refused the Radiant Sword Control despite eligibility was one.
They couldn’t identify their enemy’s identity.
For instance, if he were family, friend, or sect elder?
Rash vows couldn’t be kept.
“A demonic path figure?” At Bu Eunseol’s question, Yoo Hwaryeong shook his head.
“No.”
“Then, an orthodox faction member.” As Bu Eunseol sighed lightly, Yoo Hwaryeong shook his head again.
“He belongs to no martial faction in the world.”
“What do you mean?” Pressing, Bu Eunseol asked, and Yoo Hwaryeong said with a meaningful expression.
“He’s a government official.” Bu Eunseol couldn’t hide his shock.
For the terrifying expert who single-handedly slew the Thousand Swords Society’s Ten Seats to be not a martial artist but an official?
‘Then.’ A peculiar intuition flashed through Bu Eunseol. Perhaps the Thousand Swords Society’s man was connected to whoever moved the government to burn the Seongga Ironworks.
“Very well.” Without further words, Bu Eunseol nodded. “Let’s depart immediately.”
The swiftly galloping carriage exited Majeon and raced along the official road.
Inside rode Bu Eunseol and Yoo Hwaryeong.
Their destination was a small village in western Sichuan’s Luo Province. There, the one who brutally murdered the Thousand Swords Society Lord and Ten Seats was said to be.
‘Tianzhu Confucian Fist Technique….’ Bu Eunseol, deep in thought, fixed his gaze outside the window.
A foreign arts technique extremely difficult to acquire without innate martial bones, and unreachable in great achievement without lifelong cultivation from childhood.
According to Seok Song and Woo Hak, he had mastered the Tianzhu Confucian Fist Technique, allowing unrestricted, free swordplay. For this reason, few in the martial world cultivated the Tianzhu Confucian Fist Technique. With myriad superior martial arts available, few would waste childhood years on an uncertain palm technique.
“But how did you learn he was in that village?”
“My master said that wherever he appeared, plagues always followed.” As if reminiscing, Yoo Hwaryeong’s gaze deepened momentarily. “Thus, our society had long sought villages plagued by disease. Coincidentally, we found one where the plague began, and the late master headed there with Second Uncle Seok.”
“Did the First Seat go as well?”
“Yes. And I accompanied them on that journey.” His expression gradually twisted as he continued. “But deeming it too dangerous, while I slept at the inn, the two secretly slipped away to investigate the village. That’s when they encountered him.”
Drawing a long breath, azure flames seemed to blaze in Yoo Hwaryeong’s eyes.
“But they couldn’t overcome that devil-like man. In the end, Seventh Uncle staked his life to block him, allowing the master to barely return to my inn.” Clenching his fists, he bowed his head and said. “But the master was also mortally wounded…. and left me final words before drawing his last breath.”
Widening his eyes, he said as if vomiting blood.
“He’s a government official, and soon to appear in another plague-ridden village.”
“With such scant clues, it’ll be difficult.” Bu Eunseol, listening silently, furrowed his brow. “Government official and plague-afflicted village. Pinpointing someone with just these two is bound to be hard, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry. Seventh Uncle left a trace.”
“A trace?”
“Yes.” Yoo Hwaryeong said with a pained expression. “The master said Seventh Uncle, resolved to die, left a mark of the Radiant Sword Control on his scabbard.”
Seok Song had secretly left a Radiant Sword Control trace on the scabbard to never lose his trail. As a defensive sword form launched utterly unlike ordinary techniques, Bu Eunseol would surely distinguish it.
“If only the two had possessed innate killing intent like you….” Yoo Hwaryeong clenched his fists. “They never would have died by his hand.”
Bu Eunseol nodded in agreement.
The profound Radiant Sword Control that reacted to killing intent. Hadn’t that mysterious energy sword art perfectly blocked even the Beggar King’s killing blow at point-blank range?
“You missed the most important part.” Sharp light gleamed in Bu Eunseol’s pupils. “If the Seventh Seat mentioned he’s an official, he surely specified affiliation. Right?”
In an instant, Yoo Hwaryeong’s face turned ashen.
Now it was clear: he had known the official’s affiliation all along but hadn’t told Bu Eunseol.
“He is….” After a long silence, halting words spilled from Yoo Hwaryeong’s mouth.
“From the Eastern Division.”
“Eastern Division….”
Interest sparked in Bu Eunseol’s eyes.
The Eastern Division was the court’s special agency boasting the mightiest power, wasn’t it? Holding extralegal authority over arrest, judgment, execution—targets including high officials, imperial kin, founding merits….
None could escape their grasp.
“I’m sorry for not saying sooner.” In truth, it was natural.
Killing an Eastern Division member was tantamount to making the entire government an enemy.
Bowing his head, Yoo Hwaryeong said.
“Actually, since learning you’re a Majeon’s successor candidate, I’ve agonized over it.”
Bowing lower, he muttered lowly.
“But if I told you it was the Eastern Division beforehand, I thought you’d absolutely refuse to help….”
“That’s fine. But there’s one thing I can’t understand.” Crossing his arms, Bu Eunseol furrowed his brow and said. “The Thousand Swords Society has no small wealth or power—why not seek revenge with your own hands, be it Eastern Division or whatever?”
At Bu Eunseol’s question, Yoo Hwaryeong’s head drooped as if to bore through the floor.
“After those two pillars and elders passed, the internal atmosphere changed drastically.” Biting his lip, he said. “Most disciples wish to maintain our society’s formidable wealth and power. If we antagonize an Eastern Division official…. our society wouldn’t survive unscathed.”
Only then did Bu Eunseol roughly understand.
Seok Song and Woo Hak had made avenging the Thousand Swords Society Lord and Ten Seats their life’s goal.
But the disciples thought differently.
They wanted to sustain the Thousand Swords Society’s solid wealth, maintaining formidable intelligence without revealing themselves in the martial world. Even if it meant forgoing revenge on their masters’ killer.
“All my fellow disciples hope our society returns to the light. But killing an Eastern Division official would shatter us.” Ashamed, Yoo Hwaryeong couldn’t lift his head.
In the end, the Thousand Swords Society’s disciples had chosen self-preservation over avenging their masters. Realizing Bu Eunseol was the only remaining way to revenge, Yoo Hwaryeong had come alone to Majeon.
Desperately hoping he would keep his vow.
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Bu Eunseol said calmly. “I’m just repaying a debt.”
Tap tap.
Overwhelmed, Yoo Hwaryeong shed tears of emotion.
From his view, Bu Eunseol was soon to ascend Majeon’s successor throne. No need for such a risky venture as killing an Eastern Division official to keep a promise—nor should he.
Yet Bu Eunseol kept it without hesitation.
Because he valued trust over fame or power.
‘Though a demonic path figure, he has a famed hero’s qualities.’
“Thank you.” Wiping his tears, Yoo Hwaryeong said in a voice laced with desperate resentment. “Kill him for us, no matter what.”
Exiting the carriage, they immediately unleashed qinggong.
Racing three days and nights nonstop, leaving Hunan behind, they arrived at a marketplace before a small Sichuan village. The marketplace, which should bustle with hurried people and vitality, was swept only by desolate winds. Due to adjacency to the plague-ridden village, foot traffic had ceased, leaving only ominous desolation.
“Use this.” Reaching the village entrance past the marketplace, Yoo Hwaryeong offered cloth to cover nose and mouth.
Bu Eunseol accepted and wrapped it around his face. Then, suppressing his presence, he climbed to the roof of a large manor overlooking the village.
The healthy seemed indoors, nowhere in sight.
Patients lay in the plague tent erected in the center of the village.
“Bear with it just a little longer.”
“There, if the decoction’s ready, please turn them over.” Yet in that plague tent, a woman veiled in cloth frequently checked patients, boiling decoctions.
‘Skilled hands.’
Watching from afar, Bu Eunseol nodded. She appeared quite young, but her handling of patients was swift and precise. From the sharp energy pervading her form, she clearly possessed renowned medical arts and was a martial artist.
“No sign of Eastern Division officials.” Bu Eunseol transmitted, and Yoo Hwaryeong strained his eyes and said.
“Even if not now, they’ll surely come.”
His gaze held certainty.
But contrary to expectation, as day waned, not even ordinary constables appeared, let alone Eastern Division. Yet Bu Eunseol and Yoo Hwaryeong patiently waited steadfastly.
At nightfall, pitch-black shadows arrived one by one near the village.
They pulled large carts, carefully loading those who had perished from the plague.
From their attire, they seemed like villagers that had come to handle corpses. Watching, Bu Eunseol’s eyes flashed.
“Suspicious.”
“What do you mean.”
“Villagers handling corpses themselves?”
“What’s odd? As villagers, they’re naturally collecting the village dead.”
Bu Eunseol shook his head.
“Ordinarily, handling plague corpses falls to coroners dispatched by local magistrates.” And he transmitted with utmost gravity. “Villagers can never arbitrarily collect and dispose of corpses.”
“Is that so?” Meanwhile, the people pulled the corpse-laden carts from the village.
“They seem suspicious.” As Bu Eunseol covertly pursued them, Yoo Hwaryeong followed reluctantly.
But something was strange.
Instead of burning corpses far from the village, weren’t they pulling the carts deep into the mountains?
