How much time had passed?
Bu Eunseol slowly opened his eyes. Today, something felt odd inside the iron coffin. It was a cold energy—so chilling that even Bu Eunseol, who had played “corpse games” countless times, found it hard to endure.
“I really want that ceremonial robe and sword…”
Imagining the elegant robe and shining sword, Bu Eunseol gritted his teeth again. Bu Zhanyang had never broken a promise before. If he could just endure until sunrise, he would surely be gifted the robe and sword.
“Ugh.”
But as time passed, the cold didn’t just creep into his skin—it seeped into his very gut.
Clack clack clack.
As his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, Bu Eunseol clenched both fists tightly.
‘No… I can’t give in!’
Unable to withstand the surging cold any longer, Bu Eunseol finally shut his eyes tightly and pushed open the iron coffin. In that moment, he saw a fleeting vision—ceremonial robes and a sword glistening as they soared into the sky.
“Haa…”
Lowering his head, Bu Eunseol rose slowly from the iron coffin.
— “Knew it! I knew you’d do that, rascal!”
The end of the “corpse game” always came with the hearty laughter of Grandpa’s voice. But this time, Bu Zhanyang’s voice could not be heard anywhere.
‘Why is it so quiet?’
Sensing that something was off, Bu Eunseol cautiously stepped outside.
“Grandpa!”
He called out loudly, but there was no response. As he looked around Taepyeong Hall, where the corpses were kept, Bu Eunseol blinked in confusion.
“Did the constable’s office call him again?”
The constable’s office would often summon Bu Zhanyang, regardless of whether it was night or dawn, whenever an unclaimed body came in. Since he was nowhere in sight, there was a high chance he had gone there. With a disappointed look, Bu Eunseol rubbed his eyes and was about to return to his room—
When he passed through the courtyard, his body froze. All the urns stacked to one side of the yard had been completely smashed.
“Ah!”
Startled, Bu Eunseol grabbed a broom and ran out. The area around the urns looked like a storm had passed through—utterly wrecked. Not only that, but the stone storage shed nearby was marked with sharp, pointed marks.
“What is this…?”
As Bu Eunseol reached out to touch one of the marks etched in the stone—
Chiing.
A sharp metallic sound rang through the early morning sky. If Bu Eunseol were a martial arts master, he would have realized that the sound was of two precious swords clashing. But lacking that knowledge, to Bu Eunseol’s ears, it was nothing more than an ominous, eerie noise.
“Grandfather…”
Muttering softly, Bu Eunseol walked out the main gate, as if possessed. Following the direction of the sound, he eventually saw a large tree standing at the entrance of the village. Above its branches, a full moon shone brightly, illuminating the dark path like daylight.
Chiing.
This time, the metallic sound was shorter than before. Sensing an even deeper unease, Bu Eunseol began to run, panting.
Tatata-tak.
After sprinting for quite some time, the blurry outline of the large tree came into sharp focus. And in front of it, a familiar figure was crouched on the ground.
“Grandfather!”
Bu Eunseol shouted in joy upon recognizing the figure. The shadow leaning against the tree in the dark was none other than Bu Zhanyang.
“Grandfa—…”
Eunseol had been running toward him with a smile. But the moment he saw Bu Zhanyang’s face, glistening under the moonlight, his body froze like ice.
The gentle eyes that had always gazed at him with warmth were now gaping black holes.
The frail arm that had always softly patted his head was severed just below the shoulder.
The broad back that had carried him when he couldn’t sleep was now thin and emaciated, with bones protruding and dozens of hidden weapons embedded within like the quills of a porcupine.
Tears streamed from Bu Eunseol’s eyes, down both cheeks and fell to the ground.
At that moment—
“…Seol-ah? Is that you?”
Though he could no longer see, Bu Zhanyang sensed his grandson’s presence and slowly spoke.
“You rascal… I knew it.”
Shhhh.
Tears flooded Bu Eunseol’s vision, blinding him completely. Though his own eyes were lost, Bu Zhanyang smiled gently, as if he could clearly see the boy before him.
“This old man gave you a fright, didn’t he?”
Even in wounds so grave he must have desperately wished for death, all Bu Zhanyang could think about was that his grandson had been frightened.
“Grandfather…”
Choked with emotion, Bu Eunseol stepped forward, slowly and cautiously, and reached for Bu Zhanyang’s face.
“Grandfather… Grandfather…”
“I’m alright.”
Bu Zhanyang smiled faintly, shifting his shoulders slightly. It was probably a feeble attempt to reach up and pat Eunseol’s head like always.
“Grandfather… Grandfather…”
“It’s alright. I’m alright.”
Though his eyes were gone, Bu Zhanyang gazed straight at his grandson with a soft smile.
“This old man… it seems I’ll be leaving soon.”
“…Who was it?”
A sinister gleam, darker than blood, surged in Bu Eunseol’s eyes. From his entire being, an aura of killing intent flowed out—so thick and raw that it was hard to believe he was still a mere boy.
“Who did this to you?! Who made you like this?!”
His anguished cry echoed through the night sky.
“All this old man wants… is just one thing.”
After a long silence, Bu Zhanyang spoke with a gentle voice.
“I don’t need a burial. Use Hwagolsan. Leave no trace that I ever existed in this world.”
Bu Eunseol shook his head. Hwagolsan was the most fearsome corrosive poison known under the heavens—capable of melting a corpse into a mere puddle of liquid. But because it was so difficult to produce, even a single drop was worth more than a bead-sized diamond. Zhanyang had long accepted his inevitable death, and had even told Eunseol where he had hidden the Hwagolsan, just in case.
“I don’t want to!”
“You dare not listen to this old man’s final wish?”
“I’ll avenge you. I will have revenge!”
“Eunseol… if you do that… this old man won’t be able to close his eyes in peace.”
Eunseol swallowed back his tears and gave a small nod.
“Then I’ll die too.”
Tears rolled thickly down his cheeks as he spoke.
“When you pass on, who will take care of you in the afterlife? Who’ll cook your noodles, who’ll help you prepare the dead?”
“…Seol-ah.”
“You always said the afterlife is no different from this world, didn’t you? Then I’ll go too. I’ll follow you.”
At that moment, Bu Zhanyang’s lips began to tremble. The man in black had inflicted such cruel torture that Zhanyang was in unimaginable pain, even in his final moments. Yet he kept a calm expression—only because of the deep affection he held for Bu Eunseol.
“This old man thought… he’d leave this world without forming any attachments…”
And from his hollow, ruined eyes… bloody tears began to fall. He had always believed that his life was worth less than a leaf blowing down a dirty road…
But now, having to leave behind the grandson he so dearly loved—
That alone…
Was enough to keep his eyes from closing.
It hurt.
“Seol-ah… this is your grandfather’s final wish.”
Though he no longer had arms, Bu Zhanyang used the last of his strength to pull his grandson against him in comfort.
“When I’m gone… go far away.”
He could say no more. Not only his empty eye sockets, but his mouth, ears, and nose were all gushing blood.
Chilgongbunhyeol—Seven Orifices Bleeding— The sign that all life force had left his body. Death was upon him.
“Seol-ah…”
With the last breath of life he could muster, Bu Zhanyang said one last thing:
“I was so happy… while we were together.”
A kind smile lingered on his lips as his head slowly drooped forward.
Bu Eunseol held his grandfather’s body tightly, in silence. He buried his face against the cold chest again and again.
***
Upon the shrouding table made of chestnut wood lay a frail old man.
It was the body of Bu Zhanyang, who had drawn his last breath beneath the tree at the village entrance.
“Grandfather…”
With a swollen, tear-streaked face, Bu Eunseol gazed at his grandfather’s body. He had brought a cart, carefully returning the body to the Pyeongan Funeral House’s shrouding table.
“Let’s… live happily in the afterlife too.”
But Bu Zhanyang had wished for only one thing. That the grandson he loved so deeply… would leave, live on, and lead a quiet, ordinary life. He had hoped for it. But Bu Eunseol… couldn’t fulfill that wish. Instead, after performing his grandfather’s mortuary rites, he had resolved to follow him in death.
Lifting a clean cloth from a large basin of water, Bu Eunseol began gently wiping down his grandfather’s body with utmost care. His hands, which had been moving with rest, suddenly stopped. While examining a wound on Bu Zhanyang’s shoulder, Eunseol’s eyes turned red.
“…Grandfather.”
The cross-section where the arm had been severed was impossibly clean—like a glass shard. Even the greatest martial master of the era couldn’t slice off both arms with perfect symmetry in a single moment—not if the target resisted even slightly.
There was only one way to make such a thing possible: the victim had to offer up their arms willingly.
“You did it to protect me, didn’t you?”
Bu Eunseol had uncovered the truth behind Bu Zhanyang’s death. To protect something more precious than his own life, his grandfather had willingly extended his arms to be cut.
“They cut off your arms… and your eyes…”
Tendons, muscles—every critical part meticulously targeted. From Bu Eunseol’s eyes, angry tears fell. The assailant hadn’t just killed Bu Zhanyang—they had done it in the cruelest way possible, making sure he suffered until his very last breath.
Again…
Blood-red fury welled up in Bu Eunseol’s eyes once more. This was an atrocity he could never forgive. He had to find the monster responsible—and tear them to pieces.
“…I have to find them.”
Bu Eunseol began examining every wound on his grandfather’s body with sharp focus. In the martial world, every technique leaves a trace—like a signature. Even if disciples learned the same technique under one master, their executions would differ slightly—in power, in angle, in rhythm.
Each one is different.
“I can find them.”
Bu Eunseol, who had spent years studying wounds and scars alongside Bu Zhanyang, was no ordinary mortician. With a single glance at the wounds on a body, he could deduce how the deceased had moved in their final moments—what stance they’d taken, and what technique had delivered the fatal blow.
“From top to bottom…”
As Bu Eunseol studied the wound across Bu Zhanyang’s shoulder, an image of the most bizarre sword technique in the world unfolded in his mind.
Astonishingly, the killer had slashed upward—not downward—to sever both of Bu Zhanyang’s arms. Among the myriad sword arts scattered across the martial world, upward-slashing techniques were exceedingly rare. What’s more, after cutting off both arms, the assailant had shifted their technique mid-motion to stab Bu Zhanyang in both eyes. There was no doubt—this was not a technique from the righteous sects.
It was unmistakably from a demonic lineage.
“But such a movement should be impossible…”
No matter how grotesque or exotic a sword technique was, it had to be wielded by a flesh-and-blood human. Unless one could stretch and shrink bones and muscles at will, executing such an unnatural motion would be unthinkable.
“…No. It’s possible.”
In that moment, Bu Eunseol recalled something his grandfather had once told him:
“There are countless strange arts in the martial world. Among them, there is something called the Confucian Fist—an art that allows you to freely extend and retract your bones and muscles.”
“The Confucian Fist… from Tianzhu.” The culprit had to be a master swordsman who had mastered Tianzhu Confucian Fist. Bu Eunseol then examined Bu Zhanyang’s back carefully. There, he found the unmistakable traces of ninety-three different concealed weapons embedded in the flesh.
“…How could someone throw ninety-three hidden weapons with a single hand? Don’t tell me… Sky-Brimming Blooms?…”
Bu Eunseol recalled the famed ultimate technique of the Sichuan Tang Clan—but he shook his head. Even the Sky-Brimming Blooms technique, famed as the greatest hidden weapon technique of the Tang family, could only unleash sixty-six weapons at most.
“Could there have been an accomplice? No…”
Shaking his head, Bu Eunseol’s eyes suddenly sharpened.
“They used Sahyang’s hidden weapon device.”
Sahyang.
As an ancient clan of assassins, Sahyang had long held the title of the deadliest assassin family in the history of the martial world. Gathering countless hidden weapon artisans, they were said to have created devices capable of launching hundreds of weapons in a single instant.
“And then, there’s the poisoning…” The underside of Bu Zhanyang’s tongue, and beneath the fingernails of his sewn-up arm, the flesh was stained black. This was a clear sign of extreme poisoning—specifically, of the Rotten Flesh and Decaying Blood type toxin, that is activated upon skin contact alone.
Bu Eunseol bit down on his lip.
“The culprit not only mastered the foreign martial art Tianzhu Confucian Fist, but also possessed Sahyang’s unparalleled hidden weapon device, and uses deadly poisons of the Rotten and Decaying type…”
There couldn’t be many in the martial world who fit that description.
Bu Eunseol growled under his breath—
“I will find them.”
