The Great Heavenly Demon Sovereign – Chapter 732

Sparks seemed to fly in Bu Eunseol’s eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said. The Baekri family has always remained intact; they’ve simply been crouching in a place no one can find.”

“Why bring up the Baekri family all of a sudden?”

“I heard it from the elder. That you might be of Baekri blood.”

The possibility that he himself might be of the Baekri lineage was something Bu Eunseol had vaguely suspected for a long time.

But the Baekri family was still intact?

Hadn’t they vanished without a trace three hundred years ago?

“The Martial Venerable said that?”

“Master told me. All three legendary families are still thriving—they have merely hidden themselves away.” Mu Gyeol spoke with utmost solemnity. “And the greatest master of the martial world, Baekri Muha, is said to be a descendant of that legendary Baekri family.”

Bu Eunseol clenched his fist tightly.

It was a fact he had more or less anticipated all along.

Yangseol Rin’s mention of the Heaven-Dark Star, the Baekri family’s ability to enter the Mind Realm, and the fact that Baekri Muha—who had only briefly appeared in the martial world—possessed such extraordinary martial prowess…

He could not possibly be an ordinary person. It was reasonable to think he might belong to the legendary Baekri lineage.

But suspicion and truth are different things.

When Mu Gyeol now confirmed everything Bu Eunseol had only guessed at as fact, the shock was inevitable.

Moreover, they had remained intact all this time?

Did that mean… the Baekri family, like the Yangseol family, had established a main base somewhere and was secretly involved in the affairs of the martial world?

“The Martial Venerable told me that Baekri Muha is the successor of the Three Realms.”

After pondering for a moment, Bu Eunseol asked the one thing he still could not understand.

“But how can a descendant of the Baekri family become the successor of the Three Realms?”

“That part puzzled me too, so I asked the elder.” Mu Gyeol stared straight into Bu Eunseol’s sharply glinting eyes. “And he simply smiled and said, ‘Of course it has to be that way.’”

Bu Eunseol let out a deep, complicated sigh.

‘I would have suffered less if I had simply been an ordinary orphan.’

In his memories, his parents had been kind, ordinary people who simply loved him.

Yet in reality, they were transcendent divine beings deeply entangled in the affairs of the martial world.

And if everything Mu Gyeol said was true… then the Three Families and the Three Realms were inseparably linked.

For Bu Eunseol, who had resolved to destroy the Three Realms, this realization could only bring more turmoil.

“I see.”

Brushing away the rising thoughts, Bu Eunseol clasped his hands together.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“You kept your promise with your life on the line, so I’m merely repaying that debt.”

There was a faint trace of friendship in Mu Gyeol’s words, but Bu Eunseol had no mental space to savor it.

“Then.”

With a troubled expression, Bu Eunseol immediately left Cheongmyeong Pavilion.

‘Was it simply my fate to enter the martial world after all?’

Even without his grandfather, he had been destined to step into the martial world eventually.

Gazing at the distant sky, Bu Eunseol shook his head with a hollow expression.

‘Me, talking about fate.’

He had never believed in fate.

Only now did he begin to understand why the wise men of the martial world so often spoke of destiny.

The further he advanced toward his goal, the more it felt as though some unknown force was deliberately pushing him toward certain places.

‘I don’t want to stay here any longer.’

Compared to this place, Majeon—which he had thought was full of schemes and treachery—seemed almost peaceful.

The Martial Alliance was like a bottomless abyss, endlessly swallowing the fates of countless people into its pitch-black depths.

It made him want to retch.

Bu Eunseol left the Martial Alliance that very moment.

His mind was a mess.

In this state, he could do nothing.

‘Let’s go somewhere quiet for a while.’

Looking back, both Majeon and the Martial Alliance were places where endless conspiracies unfolded and crowds constantly bustled.

And he had always stood at the center of it all.

‘Right now…’

Right now, he did not want to remain in a place where the fates of martial artists intersected.

Buzzing.

Though he wandered out into the streets of Chengdu as if in a daze, the noisy marketplace only amplified his chaotic heart.

Boom!

With a explosive sound, Bu Eunseol’s figure instantly vanished from Chengdu and reappeared in a quiet outskirts area.

“Ah.”

While executing qinggong, he let out a soft exclamation.

Far from the village, on one side, stood a very familiar-looking building with an old signboard.

Xi’an Funeral Home.

It was a building strikingly similar to the Pyeongan Funeral Home his grandfather had once run, quietly situated away from the village.

Step, step.

As if drawn by an invisible thread, Bu Eunseol walked toward it.

It was a place that reeked of corpse stench year-round, a place people cursed as inauspicious just for looking at it.

Yet to Bu Eunseol, it was nothing but a beautiful sanctuary—one that cleansed and respectfully buried the physical remains left behind when one departed this mortal world.

‘How could I possibly enter such a place carrying a bloodthirsty weapon?’

Glancing at the Silent Tiger Soul Sword hanging at his waist, Bu Eunseol’s eyes flashed.

Shuuuk! Thunk!

The Silent Tiger Soul Sword plunged deep into the earth of a dense forest more than a hundred jang away in a single motion.

Crunch.

Then, with an utterly ordinary-looking face after disguising himself as Seolso, Bu Eunseol approached.

Creak.

Opening the old door, he saw a neatly swept front yard.

To the right was the Taepyeong Hall where bodies were kept. 

Perhaps hearing the sound of the main gate opening, the door to Taepyeong Hall slid open, and an old man in shabby gray robes appeared.

Judging by his tired face, he had likely just stepped out from embalming work.

‘Hm.’

Bu Eunseol’s eyes narrowed as he looked through the open door of Taepyeong Hall.

Though no plague had broken out, wasn’t the interior piled high with corpses?

“Who are you?”

The old man looked at Bu Eunseol with an anxious expression.

“Another body?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” 

Bu Eunseol bowed politely. 

“I was wandering around and happened to come here by chance. I’m sorry for disturbing your work.”

The old man frowned and carefully examined Bu Eunseol’s disguised appearance as Seolso.

His entire body was covered in dust from running hundreds of li at full speed, and his clothes were torn in many places from the sheer velocity of his qinggong.

Swoosh.

Without a word, the old man went into the kitchen on the opposite side of Taepyeong Hall.

When he came back out, he was holding a steamed bun in his hand.

“Take it.”

Caught off guard, Bu Eunseol accepted the bun.

It was cold—likely something the old man had set aside to eat after finishing work but never got around to.

“It’s fine.”

When Bu Eunseol tried to decline, the old man waved his hand.

“It’s fine. There are more inside.”

Even beggars avoided coming near funeral parlors.

People believed that just approaching one would bring bad luck.

Seeing Bu Eunseol’s torn clothes and dust-covered figure, the old man assumed he was someone who had endured hunger until desperation drove him here to beg.

‘It’s an understandable misunderstanding.’

Bu Eunseol gave a wry smile.

Indeed—who would stand at the gate of a funeral parlor staring inside with such longing eyes?

From the opposite perspective, anyone would think the person had come here out of sheer starvation.

“Thank you.”

Bu Eunseol no longer refused and bit into the cold steamed bun.

It was rock-hard, yet it tasted better than any delicacy he had ever eaten and carried a familiar flavor.

Watching Bu Eunseol eat the completely cooled bun with such relish despite being covered in dust, the old man looked at him with pity.

“Cough.”

Perhaps his mouth had gone dry, or perhaps it was longing that parched his throat.

Without realizing it, Bu Eunseol let out a dry cough.

“Eat slowly.”

The old man fetched a bowl of clear water from the kitchen and offered it to Bu Eunseol.

“Here.”

Lifting his head, Bu Eunseol saw the old man’s face bathed in sunlight.

Deep, sparse wrinkles covered his face and his eyes were small, almost closed.

Yet within those eyes shone a gentle, warm light.

When he used to cough as a child, his grandfather would hurriedly bring him a bowl of water just like this.

And he would look at Bu Eunseol with boundless concern.

Exactly like now.

Drip, drip, drip.

Tears fell from Bu Eunseol’s eyes as he held the bowl.

They were not intentional; they flowed naturally from an overwhelming, bone-deep longing.

“Oh dear.”

Seeing Bu Eunseol cry, the old man spoke with sympathy.

“Hold on. Life is long… someday a good day will come.”

He gently patted Bu Eunseol’s back.

Trickle.

The moment that warm hand touched him, a single tear turned into hot, burning droplets.

If only he could see his grandfather’s face just once more.

If only he could be held in that warm embrace once more.

If only he could smell that nostalgic, bittersweet scent again…

He would give up everything he possessed without hesitation.

“Here.”

When the old man offered more water,

Gulp.

Bu Eunseol drank a sip, wiped his tears, and bowed his head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? It’s only natural.”

With a kind smile, the old man nodded toward Bu Eunseol.

“Then take your time eating and go on your way.”

He turned and went back inside Taepyeong Hall.

Having given away the steamed buns he had saved for lunch, he seemed intent on continuing to prepare the bodies.

“Elder.”

Bu Eunseol called out to the departing old man.

“Let me help you.”

“With what?”

“I’ve eaten your food—shouldn’t I repay you somehow?”

When Bu Eunseol pointed toward Taepyeong Hall, the old man waved both hands vigorously.

“No need, really.” He shook his head emphatically. “This kind of work isn’t something you do carelessly. If you don’t know the proper method, it’s better not to do it at all.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Bu Eunseol said, “Even though I may not look it, I’ve done embalming work for a very long time.”

“Embalming? You?”

“Yes. You can trust me with it.”

Entering Taepyeong Hall, Bu Eunseol began rinsing clothes with familiar movements.

Embalming was grueling because corpses released a great deal of fluids.

Especially those who died alone outdoors, who were often not discovered for days and only reported to the authorities after significant decay, tended to produce as much discharge as stab-wound victims.

‘This elder must mainly handle people who died alone, just like Grandfather did.’

Looking at the bodies, Bu Eunseol could tell at a glance that the old man running this Xi’an Funeral Home was taking on corpses of the unattended dead at the request of the local authorities.

‘Even if you handle unattended corpses on behalf of the authorities, you barely earn a few coins at most.’

Moreover, there was no money for proper burial clothes.

In such cases, most embalmers simply buried the bodies carelessly anywhere.

But this old man was carefully and meticulously embalming them without regard for payment.

Just like Grandfather—Bu Zhanyang.

“You’re… you’re doing very well.”

The old man, watching Bu Eunseol work, spoke in admiration.

With every touch of his hands, the corpses became clean and some even seemed to regain the appearance they had in life.

His movements were swift and precise.

What would have taken the old man three full days and nights, Bu Eunseol finished in half a day.

“You’re better at this than an old man who’s done it his whole life. Impressive.”

Bu Eunseol smiled bashfully.

“It’s nothing special.”

“With skill like that, you must have made quite a name for yourself as an embalmer. What’s your name?”

When Bu Eunseol hesitated, the old man—Seo An—shook his head.

“I have a past I can’t speak of, so I used to live as a drifter. But by chance, this place had the same name as mine… so it felt like fate, and I ended up doing this work.”

‘That’s why he treated me so warmly.’

The old man, Seo An, must have seen something of his own past self in Bu Eunseol, a wanderer who had come here.

“I’m called Seolso. In the past I did embalming work like you, Elder… but now I just drift from place to place.”

“Calling me Elder when it comes to embalming, tch.”

“Please speak comfortably. Since you started this work before me, doesn’t that make you my senior?”

At Bu Eunseol’s words, the old man burst into laughter, wrinkles piling up on his face.

“Senior? There’s rank in embalming now?”

“Of course there is.”

Seeing Bu Eunseol’s utterly serious expression, Seo An nodded with a chuckle.

“All right, all right. Anyway, you’ve done more than enough for the meal. Go on your way.”

“There’s more?”

When Bu Eunseol blinked, Seo An sighed.

“There will be more. Lately, the sick and suffering keep dying one after another.”

“Is there a plague?”

“No, not quite—but the ill and weak are dying in droves. Even though Physician Yeon is working so hard.”

“Who is Physician Yeon?”

“You must be new around here.”

“Yes, I am.”

Seo An sighed again and explained.

“Six months ago, a wandering physician named Yeon Wol came here. There were so many sick people nearby… so he settled down and began treating them for free.”

“A wandering doctor?”

“Who else but a wandering doctor would treat the poor and sick without charge?” Seo An spoke with a bitter expression. “Though he may wander, his medical skills are truly outstanding. He’s saved many lives.”

Seo An shook his head.

“But even the best physician can’t save every patient… so that’s why so many are dying.”

Creak, creak.

At that moment, the sound of old wheels rolling came from outside the gate.

Stepping out, they saw a cart piled high with bodies covered in rags approaching.

“See? Another one already.”

As Seo An sighed and started to go out, Bu Eunseol raised a hand.

“Please leave it to me.”

“You?”

“Is there a problem?”

Seo An shook his head apologetically.

“I barely scrape by embalming—I don’t have the means to hire anyone.”

“There’s no need to worry about that.”

Bu Eunseol gave a bright, reassuring smile.

“I don’t need wages. Just give me one steamed bun a day.”

“You’d work without pay?”

“What would a drifter do with money? If I can put even one steamed bun in my mouth each day, that’s already fortunate.”

Seo An looked baffled.

“With your skill, you could easily find work as an embalmer anywhere. Why on earth…?”

“There are circumstances.”

Bu Eunseol spoke with a slightly apologetic expression.

“But I can’t stay long. I’ll have to leave again eventually.”

“In that case, fine. Stay as long as you like, make yourself comfortable.”

With Seo An’s permission, Bu Eunseol smiled brightly, like the boy he once was, happily spending time with his grandfather.

At that moment, he had no idea.

That meeting Seo An would become the opportunity to see the face of his mother whom he had longed for so desperately, and would bring about events beyond imagination.

***

Bu Eunseol stayed at Seo An’s funeral parlor and helped with the work.

While he was embalming here, he could temporarily forget about the Martial Alliance, about the affairs of Majeon and even the revenge that had always weighed on his heart.

Seo An’s personality was as warm and kind as Bu Zhanyang’s; he never hesitated to help others.

Though his skill was not outstanding and embalming took him a long time, he treated the unattended dead with the care one would give family.

However, because he was so poor he could not afford proper burial clothes. Thus, while Bu Eunseol embalmed, Seo An would repeatedly wash the corpses’ old clothes and dress them again.

Perhaps because he saw Bu Eunseol so happy?

Having watched this, Soyo contacted the Death Spirit Corps and asked them to fabricate a cover story: that Bu Eunseol would be carrying out a secret mission for a while.

‘Rest a little.’

And Soyo herself quietly withdrew from Bu Eunseol’s side.

She knew well that as long as she remained nearby, he would not be able to truly rest.

Creak.

When the sun reached its zenith, the door of Taepyeong Hall inside Seo An’s funeral parlor opened.

Bu Eunseol had come out for a short break.

As he gazed at the distant sky, peace had finally settled into his eyes.

‘I think I understand now why Grandfather told me to live an ordinary life.’

Here, there was no need to devise schemes against powerful enemies, and no need to train superhuman martial arts.

Just work diligently.

Eat when hungry.

Sleep when tired.

The world might be harsh, but there was no need to stare into its cruelty.

He could simply use what he had to do small acts of kindness each day and live one day at a time.

Splash, splash.

The constant sound of water came from the yard.

Seo An was washing blood and fluid-stained clothes in a large wooden tub.

‘I said I’d do everything—please rest, Elder.’

Even though Bu Eunseol had insisted so earnestly, Seo An was doing the laundry to lighten Bu Eunseol’s burden.

‘Is embalming a job that only certain people can do?’

Seo An possessed the same goodness and gentleness as Grandfather Bu Zhanyang.

And it was no coincidence.

‘From the beginning, it was a profession only a truly good person could do.’

Every day, facing the bodies of the dead, performing rites with utmost care and respect so their souls could go to a better place, yet earning almost no money, constantly pointed at and scorned by others.

In other words, the profession of embalmer could not be done by anyone except someone sincere and inherently kind.

Swoosh.

While watching Seo An do laundry in the yard, Bu Eunseol quietly slipped back into Taepyeong Hall.

Preparing to embalm again, he noticed the chaotic diagrams drawn on the floor and gave a wry smile.

‘Come to think of it… somehow I ended up training in the Seven Blood Tear Forms.’

While spending several days embalming at Seo An’s funeral parlor, he had unintentionally gained several insights, specifically regarding his grandfather’s saber art, the Seven Blood Tear Forms.

What had made the Seven Blood Tear Forms the ultimate saber art was not merely its divine techniques, nor the saber principles that dragged even the practitioner into the domain of death.

The Seven Blood Tear Forms had been born from death itself.

‘Grandfather must have created it while mourning the dead and analyzing the causes of their deaths.’

Unlike in his childhood, now that he was a martial artist once again carefully embalming corpses, he could perceive principles of martial arts he had never noticed before, and once more grasp the profound subtleties of the Seven Blood Tear Forms.

‘Grandfather was not simply someone who craved death because life was painful.’

To kill an enemy, one must ultimately enter the domain of death oneself.

Because of that, until now Bu Eunseol had thought the Seven Blood Tear Forms were a death art that only someone who yearned for death could perform.

But that was a mistaken interpretation.

Grandfather had not craved death.

Like a reaper who presides over death, he had completely mastered the realm of death.

‘That’s why I still cannot perform the Seven Blood Tear Forms properly.’

Bu Eunseol had not yet reached that same realm but by emptying his mind and focusing solely on embalming, he had once again savored and embodied the unknown meaning of death—that boundless realm.

As a result, his attainment in the Seven Blood Tear Forms deepened further.

Now, he could perform it faster, more precisely, and more powerfully than ever before.

Rattle.

But at that moment, the sound of a cart rolling came from outside.

The cart was loaded with the corpses of patients who had died from illness.