“Hmm.”
Weiji Mu-a, who had been savoring the lingering taste of tea with Bu Eunseol standing before him, opened his eyes.
As their gazes met, hundreds of thoughts flooded Bu Eunseol’s mind.
It wasn’t a deliberate assault on his spirit; rather, Weiji Mu-a’s eyes maintained a state of perfect emptiness.
The Profound Demon.
The foremost demonic swordsman, said to wield the most mysterious power among the Three Demons.
Astonishingly, he appeared as a youthful middle-aged man.
“Hyesang, that boy, praised you so highly. And indeed…” Weiji Mu-a scanned Bu Eunseol with mystically glinting eyes. “Ak hyung must have been overjoyed. A prodigy inheriting the power of the Drunken Spirit Fire God and Illusion Upon Illusion has appeared.”
At those words, Bu Eunseol felt an odd sensation.
An intuition that Weiji Mu-a, the Hwa Wu Sword Sect leader, had clashed with Ak Muryeong, the Nangyang Pavilion master, multiple times, with victories split evenly.
“Your appearance is like a divine dragon, so women must line up for you. Truly a dragon among men.” At Weiji Mu-a’s generous praise, Bu Eunseol snapped back to his senses and clasped his hands.
“Nangyang Pavilion disciple Bu Eunseol greets the sect leader.”
Originally, Bu Eunseol intended to assert his status as the Martial Soul Command Lord.
He had no intention of bowing to anyone.
But seeing Weiji Mu-a’s unpretentious demeanor, respect naturally arose in his heart.
“So, how’s life in Majeon?”
“With the help of those around me, I’m managing well enough.”
“Heh heh heh. To say Majeon life suits you, you must not enjoy tea.” Weiji Mu-a treated Bu Eunseol with a familiarity, as if addressing an old friend from the martial world. “The only one there who enjoys tea is that red-faced old man. The rest just sip tasteless Wulong tea.”
Bu Eunseol found Weiji Mu-a’s tone so casual…
It took him a moment to realize ‘that red-faced old man’ referred to Blood Demon Jeok Bung.
“Wait there a moment. I’ll treat you to a tea that’ll open your eyes.” Without waiting for a reply, Weiji Mu-a turned to brew the tea.
Bu Eunseol had never seen someone personally brew tea before.
“Did you know? The process of making tea is much like refining martial arts.” Weiji Mu-a spoke calmly, his hands moving steadily. “Roasting tea leaves from the fields requires intense focus. You must cook them perfectly without burning, maintaining the right temperature.”
He continued, almost singing, as if reciting a tale unprompted. “You need to precisely control the fire’s intensity, keeping the temperature suited to the leaves moment by moment. The higher the heat, the more demanding the task.”
Clink.
Turning, Weiji Mu-a continued. “Roasted leaves are spread out to even their moisture and shape the tea. This process is repeated eight or nine times, then roasted again to deepen the flavor.”
Offering Bu Eunseol a small teacup, Weiji Mu-a smiled warmly.
“Only through such arduous repetition does true tea emerge.”
Bu Eunseol nodded.
Though Weiji Mu-a described roasting tea leaves, he was expounding on martial arts principles. It closely resembled Bu Eunseol’s approach, honing martial arts even while eating or sleeping.
“Now, try it.” Bu Eunseol, without hesitation, sipped the tea.
“…!”
A peculiar taste.
A fresh, grassy note hit first, followed by a rich, smoky aroma tickling his nose.
“How’s the taste?” Weiji Mu-a watched Bu Eunseol drink, observing intently from start to finish.
His demeanor was no different from martial world powerhouses who loved having their tea critiqued.
“I don’t know much about tea.” Bu Eunseol said honestly. “I’ve never properly enjoyed it.”
“That’s to be expected.” Weiji Mu-a gazed at Bu Eunseol with a tense expression. “Still, everyone has their own taste. Just share whatever comes to mind.”
After pondering the teacup, Bu Eunseol spoke softly.
“It’s fresh yet mature at the same time.”
Weiji Mu-a’s eyes gleamed, and he said quietly. “Too abstract. If possible, describe it more vividly.”
Though the taste was unique, it didn’t particularly excite Bu Eunseol. But with the legendary the Profound Demon leaning in eagerly, he had no choice but to elaborate.
“If I must describe it… it’s like the scent of a pure maiden and a courtesan lost in drunken dreams dancing together in harmony.”
“A pure maiden and a drunken courtesan dancing together.”
Weiji Mu-a burst into hearty laughter.
“Hahahaha.” After laughing for a while, he nodded at Bu Eunseol. “You don’t just avoid tea—you dislike it, don’t you?”
“Honestly, yes.”
“But that’s refreshing. A truly novel expression.” Weiji Mu-a smiled. “I’ve enjoyed tea for seventy years, but I’ve never heard such a lively description.”
As a tea connoisseur, Weiji Mu-a knew countless expressions for tea’s aroma.
Thus, Bu Eunseol’s ignorant yet vivid description felt strikingly fresh.
“Those leaves were grown and harvested by this old man from start to finish.” The Hwa Wu Sword Sect leader curiously referred to himself as ‘this old man’ rather than ‘sect leader.’
“Thus, those leaves contain my martial arts and spirit.” Weiji Mu-a said calmly, smiling.
“Would you like another sip?” Oddly, after hearing that the leaves held his martial arts and spirit, the tea’s lingering aroma in Bu Eunseol’s mouth transformed entirely.
Slurp.
He took another sip.
The tea seemed to slice his tongue like a blade, then gently enveloped the wound. With a single phrase, Weiji Mu-a had seized control of Bu Eunseol’s spirit and senses.
‘This is the Profound Demon’s Infinite Realm.’ Sipping the tea, Bu Eunseol realized one truth.
Weiji Mu-a was purer than anyone, yet equally terrifying. And his prowess rivaled Ak Muryeong, who could face the Demon Emperor alone.
‘The pavilion master’s Illusion Upon Illusion directly struck the spirit.’
But Weiji Mu-a, with one phrase, naturally dominated both Bu Eunseol’s spirit and body.
‘A level above the pavilion master, who can challenge the Demon Emperor?’
Strange.
The world ranked the Three Demons as Human Demon, the Profound Demon, Blood Demon.
But to Bu Eunseol, the Profound Demon’s prowess seemed overwhelmingly superior.
‘If the world’s assessment is wrong, the Pavilion Master wouldn’t have tolerated it.’
Nangyang Pavilion’s master, driven by an unmatched desire for martial supremacy, would never accept being outdone. If he believed himself inferior to the Profound Demon, he’d have fought him to the death, not the Demon Emperor, to settle the score.
‘That means…’
Bu Eunseol had a chilling thought.
Could Weiji Mu-a not only dominate others’ spirits and bodies but also perfectly control his own?
If true, the Weiji Mu-a before him was growing infinitely stronger even now. Because he could freely command his own spirit and body every moment.
“You sent me this gift.”
Clink.
Weiji Mu-a placed a dagger on the table. Its blade was short like a dagger’s, but its handle was long, like that of a greatsword.
It was Journey, the cherished blade of the Seven-Finger Demon Blade, Bu Zhanyang.
“Now, let’s hear your story.”
A glint flashed in Weiji Mu-a’s eyes.
“Speak.”
Those four words carried countless meanings.
Bu Eunseol intuited two more truths.
If he didn’t provide a satisfactory story, Weiji Mu-a would shed his pure demeanor for that of a great demon.
And the title of Majeon successor offered no shield against him.
“The deputy leader is alive.”
At that moment, a cold glint flowed from Weiji Mu-a’s eyes. The room’s air froze, as if plunged into a glacier.
“He’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.” Weiji Mu-a still smiled warmly, but his eyes seemed to crackle with blue lightning.
The aura was suffocating.
With one sentence, Bu Eunseol had torn through Weiji Mu-a’s gentle facade.
“If he’s alive, it’d be a great revival for the demonic martial world.” Weiji Mu-a shook his head, smiling. “But that’s impossible, isn’t it?”
“Strange. Is it wrong for Elder Seven-Finger Demon Blade to be alive?”
Weiji Mu-a’s expression turned peculiar. “Setting aside his thirty-year disappearance, isn’t this dagger a fake?”
He scanned Bu Eunseol’s eyes sharply.
“You don’t think I wouldn’t recognize his weapon, do you?”
“Of course, I have other evidence.”
“Then show me.”
“There’s a condition.”
“A condition?”
Bu Eunseol said calmly. “Lift Cheon Ungwang’s restriction.”
“Cheon Ungwang?”
“I heard he’s under harsh seclusion punishment for teaching me the Unmatched Thunderbolt Form.” Bu Eunseol spoke softly. “If you lift his restriction and let me meet him, I’ll show you proof the deputy leader is alive.”
Weiji Mu-a’s gaze deepened.
Cheon Ungwang was a pretext. He now understood why Bu Eunseol had come.
Rumors of Bu Eunseol tracking the Seven-Finger Demon Blade’s whereabouts had spread widely among the Ten Demonic Sects. The Hwa Wu Sword Sect used his birthday celebration as an excuse to probe Bu Eunseol’s intentions.
Weiji Mu-a, knowing this, let it unfold.
He was curious why Bu Eunseol pursued the Seven-Finger Demon Blade and what he planned.
He was even prepared to kill him if necessary.
But Bu Eunseol acted unexpectedly, presenting the Seven-Finger Demon Blade’s sword out of nowhere.
This disrupted Wi Hyeok-gun’s plans and even Weiji Mu-a’s own.
“It was just a toy to draw me out.”
Clang.
At Weiji Mu-a’s glance, the fake Journey’s blade on the table rang clearly.
“Whether it’s real or fake, no one but me could handle this.”
“You’re right. It was merely a tool to summon you.”
“You’re reckless.” Weiji Mu-a’s words carried a hint of admiration.
Bu Eunseol said honestly. “If this opportunity builds a good relationship with you, wouldn’t that be worthwhile?”
If Weiji Mu-a lifted Cheon Ungwang’s punishment at Bu Eunseol’s request, it would signal to the world that Bu Eunseol and the Hwa Wu Sword Sect were close.
As the foremost demonic sect, their support would bolster Bu Eunseol’s position.
“Let me be frank.” Weiji Mu-a sipped his tea and said calmly. “I have little interest in sect affairs or martial world politics.”
He gazed into the void, not at Bu Eunseol.
“It’s not me but my disciples who view you unfavorably.”
“…”
“As long as you don’t corner this sect, I won’t act against you. Understand?”
—I don’t care what a youngling like you does.
Weiji Mu-a was saying he had no interest in Bu Eunseol, and even friendship wouldn’t sway the sect’s stance.
He drew a clear line.
“That’s a relief.” Despite the cold response, Bu Eunseol smiled, as if reassured. “I was worried you held a grudge against me.”
“…”
“But your words put my mind at ease.”
—Profound Demon, it seems there’s no one in your sect but you who can challenge me.
That’s what Bu Eunseol was saying.
“Heh heh heh. Hahahaha!” Weiji Mu-a burst into laughter. “Thirty years ago, after Brother Bu vanished, the demonic martial world became dull and monotonous.”
‘Brother Bu’ likely referred to the Seven-Finger Demon Blade, Bu Zhanyang.
“But with someone like him stirring the demonic path again… something worth watching might happen.” Weiji Mu-a nodded, finally showing interest in Bu Eunseol.
“Let me offer one piece of advice.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Don’t underestimate this sect. Especially Hyesang’s potential—even I, his master, can’t predict it.”
Bu Eunseol felt an odd sensation.
Currently, Wi Hyeok-gun, the chief instructor, was known to lead the sect. Like Dan Cheong in Nangyang Pavilion, Wi Hyeok-gun managed all affairs. As the Sword Demon, his swordsmanship was deemed the demonic path’s finest.
Conversely, the heir, Weiji Hyesang, would need at least a decade to take control.
Yet Weiji Mu-a named Weiji Hyesang as Bu Eunseol’s rival.
Why?
“It was a pleasure meeting you.” Weiji Mu-a signaled the end of the meeting.
Bu Eunseol tilted his head.
“No need to show the evidence?”
“You already did.” Weiji Mu-a smiled faintly. “If you think no one in this sect but me is your match, you’ve surely inherited Brother Bu’s legacy.”
He continued calmly.
“Whether you met him or only inherited his teachings, I don’t know. But spreading rumors through intelligence networks to find his traces… you’re scheming something, as befits Majeon’s successor.”
Bu Eunseol instantly regretted two things.
He hadn’t realized Weiji Mu-a was such a transcendent figure. And by lying about the Seven-Finger Demon Blade being alive, he missed the chance to ask about him.
‘It couldn’t be helped.’
Entering the Hwa Wu Sword Sect, he had to meet Weiji Mu-a. Even Bu Eunseol couldn’t perfectly predict these outcomes.
“Then I’ll take my leave.” Bu Eunseol clasped his hands and exited.
Descending the hill, dozens of people awaited.
“I’m Nam Punggwan, deputy head of the Discipline Hall.” The middle-aged man in front, Nam Punggwan, clasped his hands toward Bu Eunseol. “I’ll guide you to Cheon Ungwang.”
Less than a quarter-hour had passed since his talk with Weiji Mu-a.
Yet they spoke as if they’d heard everything.
‘As expected of the Hwa Wu Sword Sect.’
The sect was warning Bu Eunseol.
From the moment he entered, every word and action was monitored.
No one could escape their scrutiny.
‘The sect leader truly has no interest in sect affairs.’ To place spies at the leader’s residence? Bu Eunseol gave a wry smile and shook his head.
“Alright. Lead the way.”
Nam Punggwan guided Bu Eunseol to a deep forest near the sect’s west gate. Passing a small waterfall, they reached a clearing bathed in sunlight, where a modest hut stood.
It was perfect for a reclusive elder living apart from the world.
“There you go.” Nam Punggwan clasped his hands and left, his task complete.
Bu Eunseol slowly approached the hut.
“Excuse me.” As he stood before the hut, the door opened, and a middle-aged man in gray robes emerged.
His long hair was carelessly tied up, and his face was covered in coarse stubble.
But his eyes blazed like a roaring tiger.
It was Cheon Ungwang.
