Han Yeongbaek shouted at the top of his lungs, but no one stepped forward.
Bu Eunseol had fought a fair duel, only to be ambushed by a coordinated attack and emerge victorious.
“Master Han,” a voice called out.
Among the onlookers, Gu Cheonggak, a master from the Radiant Martial Alliance, stepped forward, unable to stand by any longer.
“When righteous masters violate the code of honor and launch a joint attack, how would we be any different from the vile heretics if we all slaughtered him together?”
“What are you saying?” Han Yeongbaek roared. “My son is dead!”
“Master Han,” Gu Cheonggak said, shaking his head.
At that moment, another voice interjected, “Great Hero Gu.” Yang Incheong, an elder of the Jeongju Fist Sect and a close ally of Han Yeongbaek, stepped up to support him.
“Great Hero Gu, your words have merit. But didn’t they sneak into the Janggeom Manor and attempt an assassination? What honor or righteousness is there to discuss with assassins?”
Gu Cheonggak shook his head again. “Wasn’t the Golden Purification Ceremony itself a trap set for the Ten Demon Warriors? If we resort to any means necessary to capture them, how are we different from those heretics?”
“Great Hero Gu,” Yang Incheong began, ready to argue further.
But Gu Cheonggak cut him off. “I’m saying this for Master Han’s sake. Young Master Han and Lady Qing intruded on a fair duel with a joint attack. If the righteous guests here draw their swords and slaughter him in revenge, the reputation of Janggeom Manor will fall to ruin.”
For a moment, Han Yeongbaek was speechless.
Janggeom Manor had long been a prestigious sword sect in the martial world. But if they were killed in a dishonorable joint attack rather than a fair duel—and worse, if hundreds of guests were mobilized for a vengeful bloodbath—Janggeom Manor would lose all standing in the martial world.
“This is…” Han Yeongbaek gasped, struggling to breathe.
His son had committed an act unbecoming of a righteous hero. If the joint attack had succeeded and they had all been killed, it might have ended cleanly. But now, they stood alive, eyes blazing with defiance.
In the end, there was nothing he could do.
But then, a voice rang out. “You didn’t fight our sect’s disciple, Pyeong Seoun, in a fair duel. You ambushed him.”
Kang Jung-ryang, leading the disciples of the Kongtong Sect, stepped forward solemnly.
“Do you admit it?”
“I do,” Seok Woohaeng replied, stepping forward. “I ambushed him.”
Kang Jung-ryang bit his lip. “We should seize this chance to deal with all of you, but we won’t. Because we are disciples of the Kongtong Sect.”
“Are you pretending to be righteous now?” Seok Woohaeng sneered coldly. “You came in a group and attacked together. Now that it’s inconvenient to gang up again, you’re retreating, aren’t you?”
The only option left was to overwhelm them with numbers using the Wheel Formation. But since righteous masters had already died in a joint attack, the Kongtong Sect couldn’t resort to such a shameful method again.
“A mere assassin like you could never understand the heart of a righteous warrior,” Kang Jung-ryang said.
“Is that so?” Seok Woohaeng replied.
“Hmph, how could a sparrow comprehend the will of a phoenix?” Kang Jung-ryang shot him a contemptuous glare before turning away.
Then, Du Yue of the Zhongnan Sect fixed his gaze on Seok Woohaeng and spoke. “Did you also kill our sect’s disciple?”
“That was me,” Bu Eunseol said, stepping forward. “I challenged him and fought a fair duel.”
“The elders of our sect didn’t believe it,” Du Yue said, sighing deeply and shaking his head. “But seeing you today… I can’t deny it.”
From Yeo Hwanjin’s wounds, the Zhongnan Sect had deduced that he fought a one-on-one battle with a Ten Demon Warrior. But most elders insisted that no Ten Demon Warrior could defeat Yeo Hwanjin alone and that it must have been a cowardly ambush. That was why the Zhongnan Sect had sent warriors into the martial world to hunt down the killer.
“But the fact remains that you killed our disciple,” Du Yue said, biting his lip again. “I lack the strength to act now, but one day, I will challenge you.”
“Anytime,” Bu Eunseol replied calmly.
Du Yue, biting his lip, turned and walked away.
‘He’s just saving face,’ Bu Eunseol thought. He knew Du Yue recognized the gap in their skills and would never challenge him. If Du Yue truly intended to train and challenge him later, he would have at least demanded Bu Eunseol remove his mask.
“Now, then,” Bu Eunseol said, turning to leave.
Suddenly, Han Yeongbaek and over a hundred guests surrounded him.
“I can’t let this go!” Han Yeongbaek shouted, his eyes filled with bitter resentment. “I don’t care about the others, but you—I cannot let you leave! Even if it means sealing Janggeom Manor forever, I will kill you today!”
With that cry, Han Yeongbaek and the hundred or so masters who sided with him drew their weapons.
“Seok Woohaeng, it looks like a brawl is inevitable,” Myo Cheon-woo said, turning to him.
But his jaw dropped. Seok Woohaeng, who had been standing beside him, had vanished without a trace.
“That bastard!” Myo Cheon-woo cursed.
Seok Woohaeng had taken advantage of the chaos to slip away from Janggeom Manor.
“Damn it, I’ll help you, Bu Eunseol,” Myo Cheon-woo said. He was a man of loyalty. Seeing Bu Eunseol about to face over a hundred martial artists alone, he stepped forward without hesitation.
“We’re probably going to die, but still…” Myo Cheon-woo grinned, looking at Bu Eunseol.
Then his expression froze.
Whooosh!
A fierce gust of energy erupted from Bu Eunseol’s body, and a crimson light began to glow in his hands.
“What are you doing…?” Myo Cheon-woo stammered.
“Seven Fist Demon Forms…” Bu Eunseol muttered.
A red mist swirled in his eyes as he traced a semicircle with both hands.
Boom!
A terrifying aura surged from his back, shooting into the sky.
Bu Eunseol had reached the early stages of the Fifth level of the Ban-geuk Method. As he unleashed his full inner power, the terrifying force hidden within the realm of Ban-geuk Energy materialized, visible to the naked eye.
“Attack him!” Han Yeongbaek shouted, sensing the ominous energy.
But at that moment, Bu Eunseol thrust both hands forward.
“Heaven Hand Void Break!”
Whoosh!
A massive gust of energy swept past the hundred armed martial artists.
Crack, crack, crack!
The walls and pavilions beside them began to fracture.
Boom!
With a thunderous roar, they collapsed into rubble.
Crash, crash, crash!
The pavilions and walls crumbled like brittle snacks.
Han Yeongbaek and the other martial artists stood frozen, eyes wide, mouths agape, unable to believe the scene before them.
“Is this… the power a human’s fist can unleash?” one of them muttered.
Bu Eunseol’s outstretched hands were slightly angled to the left, not aimed at them. If he had directed that strike at them, dozens would have been gravely injured or killed.
‘Ugh,’ Bu Eunseol thought, swallowing the blood rising in his throat. ‘I overdid it.’
The Heaven Hand Void Break was a devastating technique that unleashed all his inner power in a single blow—an unprecedented fist strike. Using it without fully mastering it had caused him significant internal injuries.
But without showing any sign of pain, Bu Eunseol calmly regulated his breathing and said to Myo Cheon-woo, “Let’s go.”
Without looking back, he walked toward the collapsed wall. Myo Cheon-woo, who had been frozen in shock, snapped out of it and followed Bu Eunseol out of the manor.
Countless martial artists stood there, but none dared to block his path.
***
“What was that fist technique? It felt almost like our sect’s ultimate technique, the Annihilation Wall-Breaking Strike,” Myo Cheon-woo said, trailing behind Bu Eunseol.
“…”
“And that sword technique you used to kill Han Seong and Qing Choxian—what was that? Is it the supreme art of the Nangyang Pavilion?” Myo Cheon-woo bombarded him with questions, but Bu Eunseol walked on silently, as if he hadn’t heard a word.
“Seok Woohaeng, that jackal has no sense of loyalty,” Myo Cheon-woo said, grinding his teeth as he recalled Seok Woohaeng’s face. “That guy could’ve escaped earlier, but he stayed to watch your fight with the righteous masters. Then, when things got serious, he slipped away alone.”
Bu Eunseol continued walking, his lips sealed.
“What’s wrong? You’re injured!” Myo Cheon-woo exclaimed, finally noticing Bu Eunseol’s unsteady steps and the thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. “Take my hand,” Myo Cheon-woo said urgently. “We need to use our movement techniques to get out of Janggeom Manor’s territory. If they realize you’re injured, they’ll come after us—”
He tried to support Bu Eunseol and use his movement technique to escape. But then, a faint mist began to rise from Bu Eunseol’s body.
He was channeling his energy to heal while walking.
“You’re… healing while walking?” Myo Cheon-woo’s face looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
As a Ten Demon Warrior who had inherited the supreme arts of the Ten Demon Sects, he knew Bu Eunseol’s martial arts were unlike anything he’d ever seen. They had surpassed the limits of a Ten Demon Warrior.
‘So that’s how it is,’ Myo Cheon-woo thought, beginning to understand Seok Woohaeng’s feelings. Bu Eunseol was a wall that kept rising higher. Myo Cheon-woo had once believed he could climb it, but now that wall loomed so tall it was out of sight.
For Seok Woohaeng, that towering wall must have been an object of resentment.
“Go ahead,” Bu Eunseol said, pausing his energy circulation. “Get out of this area quickly and treat your arm. If you don’t, you might lose the use of it.”
His indifferent voice carried a trace of concern. Seeing Bu Eunseol stand calmly, unmindful of his own injuries, Myo Cheon-woo’s eyes softened.
“Bu Eunseol,” he said, his voice tinged with confusion. “Why did you do it?”
“What do you mean?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“You weren’t always like this,” Myo Cheon-woo said. “You…”
In Hell Island, Bu Eunseol had been the coldest, most detached of them all. He never mingled with others or cared for anyone. He lived alone in the shadows, determined to survive alone until the end.
“Seok Woohaeng and I—we had no real connection to you. Why did you save us?”
“I didn’t save you,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“Don’t lie,” Myo Cheon-woo said, his expression one of disbelief. “If you had no intention of helping us, you wouldn’t have bothered wearing a mask, would you?”
Bu Eunseol fell silent.
Myo Cheon-woo pressed on. “They say the Demon Emperor is emerging from seclusion. If you hadn’t helped us, you could’ve easily become the top candidate to succeed him.”
When Bu Eunseol remained silent, Myo Cheon-woo asked, “Back in Hell Island, we teamed up to try to kill you and Seo Jinha. Don’t you resent us?”
“Everyone was just doing what they had to,” Bu Eunseol said, his expression nonchalant. “I was only trying to survive, too.”
He felt no emotions toward the other Ten Demon Warriors—no hatred, no jealousy, no ambition to surpass them. His only desire was to survive and grow stronger.
“You really… feel nothing for us?” Myo Cheon-woo asked, frowning.
Bu Eunseol paused, then spoke slowly after a moment of deep thought. “Not entirely.”
“What does that mean?”
“We were in the same hell, and we survived it.”
It was an honest sentiment.
In the past, he had been incapable of feeling anything for others. But after entering the martial world, experiencing many things, and forming bonds with like-minded friends, a faint thread of emotion had emerged in Bu Eunseol—a sense of kinship with the Ten Demon Warriors who shared his fate.
“So that’s it,” Myo Cheon-woo said, finally understanding Bu Eunseol’s heart.
In the harsh, unforgiving storms of the martial world, there was a bond with those who shared the same fate—a subtle, inexpressible feeling.
“Honestly… I helped Seok Woohaeng for the same reason,” Myo Cheon-woo admitted openly. “I knew he was using me, but I didn’t hate him for it.”
“…” Bu Eunseol remained silent.
“To be honest, I’ve always wanted to get closer to you,” Myo Cheon-woo said, rubbing his nose sheepishly. “You’re a bit grim and strange, but there’s something lonely about you.”
Bu Eunseol stared at him, and Myo Cheon-woo looked away, embarrassed. “That’s just how it is.”
“I see,” Bu Eunseol said, nodding.
Having recovered enough to use his movement technique, he spoke briefly. “I’m leaving.”
With a whoosh, Bu Eunseol leaped into the air.
“I won’t forget this debt!” Myo Cheon-woo called out, watching Bu Eunseol’s retreating figure.
He nodded to himself, as if making a decision.
“Bu Eunseol,” he murmured, staring in the direction where Bu Eunseol had vanished. “We’ll meet again soon.”
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