Majeon, Suppressed Demon Pavilion. Conference room.
Upon hearing the news that the Martial Alliance’s Qizhou branch, which had been preparing to attack, had voluntarily withdrawn their forces and retreated, Yoo Unryong and Myo Cheonwoo looked at each other with stunned expressions.
“This… actually worked?”
―The Martial Soul Society branch must be built adjacent to the Martial Alliance’s sphere of influence.
These were Bu Eunseol’s words when he selected the location for the new Martial Soul Society mercenary market.
If it were a place where Majeon and the Martial Alliance were already locked in a power struggle?
They would have faced attacks from both sides from the very beginning, making construction impossible.
But if they started in a sphere of influence that even the Martial Alliance barely paid attention to?
Because they prioritized justification and placed great importance on external appearances, they might obstruct the market’s construction, but they would never openly use force or kill the laborers.
―Moreover, it must be a location where common folk can later make their home.
The predecessor of the Martial Soul Society, the Red Sky Veil, was one of the largest mercenary markets in the Central Plains. Because of its massive scale, it could be self-sufficient even in a remote location.
But for a smaller mercenary market, the story was different.
Without any foundation, the market itself could not be sustained. It could not be built in an empty field—it had to be in a place where commerce was already forming.
Yet places with established commerce were naturally included in either Majeon’s or the Martial Alliance’s spheres of influence.
For a newly born coalition like the Martial Soul Society to squeeze in and take root in such a place was nearly impossible. That was why Bu Eunseol decided to create an entirely new commercial district and build the mercenary market there.
―Where there are jobs, commerce will arise.
It was obvious that the Martial Alliance would not sit idly by and watch buildings being erected.
Therefore, Bu Eunseol had anticipated destruction from the start and instructed the carpenters to focus solely on laying foundations and erecting frameworks.
Because the mercenary market was planned on a considerable scale, even seeing just the skeletons of the halls would cause them serious alarm. And just as expected, the Martial Alliance hired black faction gangsters or came at night to demolish everything the carpenters had built.
As this cycle repeated endlessly, even the Martial Alliance gradually grew exhausted.
Eventually, they slowed the frequency of their raids and instead began blocking incoming materials or intimidating arriving laborers. The longer construction was delayed, the more astronomical the losses would be for the Martial Soul Society.
And indeed, the Martial Soul Society suffered enormous damage.
But those very processes… became the catalyst that slowly drew countless laborers and merchants to the site.
―That village was originally where retired carpenters gathered to live… If buildings are constantly destroyed and rebuilt without end, more and more people will come to learn from them.
That was the strategy Bu Eunseol had devised.
―Winning the goodwill of common folk with money won’t last long. They must build their own nests themselves.
And his plan worked perfectly.
As construction continued relentlessly, retired carpenters began to showcase their skills once more.
Young people flocked to learn from them.
As more people gathered, food stalls appeared, and gradually a proper commercial district began to form.
When the carpenters developed techniques to reuse damaged materials effectively, the village soon became renowned as a prestigious school for carpentry.
―When our society’s mercenary market is established, we will drive out any black path groups that try to maintain the commercial district while demanding protection fees or stall rents.
When the Martial Soul Society made yet another bold proposal, the merchants and common folk were thrilled.
In such a situation, when the Martial Alliance resolved to destroy the place entirely… carpenters and merchants alike risked their lives to drive them away.
Seok Gang was a tactician well-versed in military strategy, yet he was utterly helpless against this method.
What kind of martial artist in the world… swallows a sphere of influence by creating jobs?
No one in the martial world had ever employed such a tactic before.
“Bu Eunseol. Just what kind of man is he…?”
Finishing his recollection, Yoo Unryong shook his head in disbelief.
What kind of life must he have lived to be so profoundly versed in the ways of the world?
What kind of education did he receive to be capable of devising such ingenious schemes?
“Just give up trying to understand that guy.”
Myo Cheonwoo patted Yoo Unryong on the shoulder.
Then, with a faint smile, he said firmly, “It’ll make things easier.”
The smile on Myo Cheonwoo’s lips resembled that of an old man who had already given up on everything in the world.
For a long time now, he had abandoned any attempt to comprehend Bu Eunseol’s resourcefulness or martial prowess.
“I-I guess so.”
Yoo Unryong, still dumbfounded, shook his head.
“Oh, right.”
At that moment, Myo Cheonwoo remembered something and took a deep breath.
“Actually, you and I have business there now.”
“What?”
He pulled a single intelligence report from his robes and handed it to Yoo Unryong.
It was a letter sent by Bu Eunseol.
As Yoo Unryong read through it, his eyes gradually lost focus.
“This…”
He said to Myo Cheonwoo in a trembling voice.
“Just how far ahead did he see? Is this even possible?”
Myo Cheonwoo shook his head with a wry smile.
“Probably from the moment he planned to build the mercenary market there, he investigated everything thoroughly. He’s always been meticulous.”
“Even so… he’s not a fortune-teller—how could he predict this far?”
Myo Cheonwoo patted Yoo Unryong’s shoulder again, laughing once more.
“…Give up.”
“What?”
“Give up.”
Myo Cheonwoo showed a childlike, innocent smile.
“Then… it becomes easier.”
***
―Wi Cheongyeong will take charge of training the newly reorganized Flying Demon Corps, while Won Semun and Jo Namcheon will handle the training of the newly recruited martial artists for the rest of the Death Shadow Corps.
Finally, with the completion of the Martial Soul Society’s mercenary market in the Qizhou village, the Flying Demon Corps under Tak Ilhon, along with the newly reinforced martial artists of the Death Shadow Corps, began their training.
The martial artists newly recruited to the Death Shadow Corps this time were more like direct subordinates of Bu Eunseol than members of Majeon. Therefore, they intended to conduct training in a place that belonged as little as possible to either Majeon or the Martial Alliance’s spheres of influence.
Won Semun, Jo Namcheon, and Wi Cheongyeong trained the Death Shadow Corps martial artists without missing even a single day.
They were veterans with abundant combat experience, survivors of any battlefield.
Excluding Myo Cheonwoo, there was no better martial instructor for training newcomers than these three.
In a small village near the Martial Soul Society mercenary market in Qizhou, dusk was quietly settling.
Thud, thud.
At that moment, three men entered the village.
The man on the left carried twin swords on his back, with a bristling beard jutting out wildly.
His eyes were fierce and piercing, his build solid—like the incarnation of Zhang Fei himself.
It was Won Semun.
Beside him walked a man with disheveled hair and an expression that seemed annoyed by everything in the world.
Though slightly smaller than Won Semun, his frame was even more compact, resembling a massive heavy weapon.
It was Jo Namcheon.
“Ugh, my whole body aches.”
Jo Namcheon muttered, placing a hand on Won Semun’s shoulder.
“When will we ever escape this hellish training cycle?”
For martial artists who had already reached a certain level, it was enough to impart profound martial mysteries or high-level insights.
But basic training was different.
It was nothing but endless repetition, repetition, and more repetition.
Every day they had to shout until their throats grew hoarse, demonstrate movements personally, run alongside them to check each martial artist’s mental fortitude, manage their physical condition, and instill a sense of belonging.
By now, both Won Semun and Jo Namcheon had reached a stable level of martial prowess so they could cultivate sufficiently through meditation alone.
Yet here they were, training like crazy alongside raw recruits who were like newly hatched chicks.
No wonder they were somewhat exhausted.
“We have to endure it.” Won Semun also wore a gloomy expression.“With the Lord’s personality… he’ll probably keep ordering training until the day we die of old age.”
“Probably.”
Jo Namcheon shook his head with an equally gloomy look.
“If I’d known, I would’ve made the vice unit leaders handle training those fledglings.”
Thud, thud.
At that moment, a tall man appeared behind them like a ghost.
“Don’t say such things.”
A handsome man of impressive height with cold, lake-like calm eyes grabbed both their shoulders and spoke.
“Occasionally moving the body and tempering the flesh is necessary to further advance one’s martial arts.”
Though somewhat slender, giving him more the air of a scholar than a martial artist, it was Wi Cheongyeong.
“If the foundation is not solid, no matter how high the tower is built, it will inevitably collapse. Don’t forget that.”
Gazing at the distant sky, he spoke with a somewhat lonely look.
“Since we were born martial artists… we must train for life.”
“Hmph, who doesn’t know that?” Jo Namcheon pouted and shook his head. “But the problem is that the ones I’m teaching all inherited Won Semun’s bloodline. That’s why it’s killing me.”
“What do you mean, inherited my bloodline?”
“These gluttons don’t think with their heads—one and all, they try to solve everything with their bodies.”
Thump thump thump.
Won Semun and Jo Namcheon grabbed each other by the collar and began to fight.
Watching them, Wi Cheongyeong waved his hand.
“Have fun.”
“Why? You’re not coming?”
The two, still clutching collars, rushed over and grabbed Wi Cheongyeong’s arms.
“It’s been a while—let’s have a drink together.”
“Yeah, we’ve never drunk together even once.”
Every time training ended, Won Semun and Jo Namcheon would always head straight to drink. But Wi Cheongyeong would simply return to his quarters to rest.
He had never once joined them for drinks.
“No thanks. Drink among yourselves.”
When Wi Cheongyeong waved them off, the two shrugged helplessly.
“Fine, fine.”
“If he doesn’t want to, there’s nothing we can do.”
Shrugging, they hurriedly ran toward the tavern.
Wi Cheongyeong watched the two scamper off like children, then shook his head.
“When will those two ever grow up?”
As he headed toward the inn where he was staying, he suddenly glanced at the distant brothel.
“Hmm.”
He hadn’t had a single day of proper rest while training the Flying Demon Corps.
Seeing Won Semun and Jo Namcheon swagger off to drink, he too felt like indulging for once.
“Buy flowers, sir.”
As he walked toward the brothel to have tea, a little girl ran up to him from in front.
Her clothes were worn, her face smudged with dirt, but her eyes were pretty.
At her feet stood a basket full of flowers.
It seemed she was selling flowers in front of the brothel where somewhat respectable people came and went.
“Sir, please buy just one flower.”
Wi Cheongyeong looked at the bright-eyed girl, then asked helplessly, “How much for one?”
“One coin.”
“Here.”
Taking the single flower, Wi Cheongyeong sighed.
Judging by the condition, the flowers would probably wither by tomorrow or the day after.
Moreover, it seemed she hadn’t sold even one yet—the basket was still overflowing.
“Just give me all of them.”
Realizing what he meant, the girl shook her head.
“It’s okay, sir. Even one is enough…”
“No, I have a use for them.”
At his words, the girl said in a trembling voice, “Eighty coins.”
“Fine.”
Wi Cheongyeong smiled generously and reached for the money pouch at his waist.
His expression immediately stiffened.
No matter how much he searched, the pouch was gone.
‘Those damned bastards!’
In an instant, the bare faces of Won Semun and Jo Namcheon flashed through his mind.
While pretending to drag him along for drinks earlier, they had secretly lifted the pouch from his waist.
‘They drink like fish every day and, having no money themselves, tried to drag me along to pay.’
No wonder they had clung to him so unusually warmly.
Thanks to the harsh training they had endured for so long, they had mastered lightning-fast sleight-of-hand and robbed him clean.
‘I won’t let this slide!’
Swallowing the rising curses, Wi Cheongyeong hesitated, then pulled a small metal fragment from his robes.
“This should fetch a good price.”
It was a leftover piece of black gold and dark iron from when a statue had been made in honor of Bu Eunseol in the past.
“This is black gold and dark iron. It’s rarer and more valuable than silver.”
Wi Cheongyeong placed it in the girl’s hand.
So heavy that she staggered and her arm drooped fully under the weight.
“S-Sir.”
“If you sell it to the blacksmith over there, you’ll get at least a hundred taels.”
“No, really.” At the mention of a hundred taels, the girl hurriedly waved her hands. “Eighty coins is enough.”
“It’s fine. I just don’t like owing anyone.”
Wi Cheongyeong gave a wry smile as he glanced toward the brothel.
“Just now, my so-called comrades—no, those damned bastards—stole my money pouch so they could drink. That’s why I’m giving this.”
Hearing the refined-looking Wi Cheongyeong mutter through gritted teeth, the girl couldn’t help but giggle.
“One with a bristly beard, and the other big with fierce bulging eyes, right?”
“Yes. You know them?”
“They always rush to the brothel around this time.”
Holding back her laughter, the girl said, “Then come back here tomorrow.”
She held out the heavy dark iron and black gold with both hands and smiled prettily.
“Take it back then.”
“I don’t do credit.”
True to his origins in the Rootless Brigade, Wi Cheongyeong had a stubborn streak.
Seeing his resolute expression, the girl nodded.
“Then I’ll keep these safe until then.”
“Good.” Wi Cheongyeong nodded. “I’ll come early tomorrow.”
Then he slung the girl’s flower basket over his shoulder and walked off briskly.
Having had his money pouch stolen, Wi Cheongyeong couldn’t go to the brothel and instead returned to the annex of the inn he had rented.
He placed the large flower basket on the table and began arranging the flowers in the various vases around the room.
Even so, plenty remained, so he displayed them here and there.
“Much better.”
With flowers decorating the interior, the drab atmosphere brightened considerably.
In truth, one could drink tea here as well.
But those who truly loved tea never drank at inns—they always went to the brothel.
The tea there was of higher quality than at inns, and above all, it carried the unique serene charm and ambiance of a brothel.
Though a bit regrettable, placing flowers everywhere made the mood feel much more pleasant.
Creak.
As he opened the old windows,
rumble, whoooosh.
Suddenly, thunder roared and torrential rain poured down like a waterfall.
‘Good thing.’
Since he had bought all her flowers, the girl had surely gone home safely.
She wouldn’t have gotten caught in the rain.
Listening to the rain, Wi Cheongyeong leisurely sipped his tea.
The next day.
After visiting Won Semun and Jo Namcheon—who had stolen his money, drunk themselves silly, and passed out—Wi Cheongyeong used the brush, ink, and paper he had prepared to draw a huge turtle on their faces.
And on their backs, he wrote the characters for “King of Bastards”, meaning “sons of bitches.”
“Haa.”
With a refreshed expression, Wi Cheongyeong stepped outside, went to the exchange office to retrieve more money, then headed back toward the brothel.
Bu Eunseol provided unlimited funds for mission-related matters.
But salaries—for himself and for the unit members—were handled strictly and rather stingily.
Nevertheless, Wi Cheongyeong came from a prestigious martial family with generations of wealth. Even back in his Rootless Brigade days, he had always been the one paying for everyone’s drinks.
Arriving near the brothel again, Wi Cheongyeong looked around.
The girl selling flowers was nowhere to be seen.
‘Caught a cold, perhaps.’
Shaking his head, he entered the brothel.
Seeing his appearance, the attendant guided him to the best seat on the second floor with the finest view.
“Where is the child who sells flowers here?”
When he asked the attendant bringing tea, the man shook his head.
“I don’t know, sir. She seems to come every day, though.”
Well, an attendant wouldn’t pay attention to a street flower seller.
Rumble.
But in the distance, he suddenly saw men in official uniforms moving around the village.
Looking closely, they were constables from the local government office.
“What are they doing now?”
As Wi Cheongyeong frowned, the attendant looked out the window and said, “Last night, more children disappeared again.”
“Again?”
“Yes. For several years now, children have been disappearing intermittently across Qizhou.” The attendant sighed. “The government office has investigated several times, but they’ve never caught the culprit.”
“Hmm.”
“Moreover, most are children of poor commoners or vagrants… so the investigations are usually half-hearted.”
“I see.”
Wi Cheongyeong gave a small reward to the diligent attendant who had answered sincerely.
“Several years…”
Arms crossed, staring into space, his gaze deepened.
Children disappearing for years.
He intuitively sensed a high probability that this was the work of a serial killer.
“Wait—if it’s children…?”
Feeling an ominous chill, Wi Cheongyeong left the brothel and began thoroughly searching the village.
Near a crumbling abandoned house, he found a small metal piece.
It was the fragment of black gold and dark iron he had given the girl.
‘Kidnapped?’
Wi Cheongyeong’s pupils rippled like water.
The girl had clearly been abducted.
Perhaps she had deliberately dropped the metal from her robes or perhaps it had fallen out during the abduction.
Flash!
A fierce light burst from Wi Cheongyeong’s eyes.
He was essentially the intelligence chief of the Death Shadow Corps and had spent years analyzing and refining vast amounts of information.
Moreover, possessing analytical ability and resourcefulness on par with Yoo Unryong, in emergencies, he was the one who took command of the Death Shadow Corps.
After meticulously searching the area, he discovered the culprit’s footprints and several clues.
“Judging by the stride, height is six cheok three chon.”
Wi Cheongyeong’s eyes gleamed sharply.
“The right footprint is slightly deeper—likely a left-handed swordsman who carries a heavy weapon at the right waist.”
In truth, such clues alone were not enough to identify the perpetrator.
But fortunately, the very significant clue of “left-handed sword” remained.
Left-handed swordsmen were rare in the martial world.
“If it’s a left-handed swordsman active in the Qizhou region… it won’t be hard to find him.”
Of course, some killers deliberately operated far away to avoid tracking but if he had consistently targeted only vagrant or poor families’ children in Qizhou?
Then he was either someone well-known locally in the Qizhou area, or the descendant of a powerful family that the government would never investigate without ironclad evidence.
And with these clues… he could definitely catch the culprit.
“The Seomun family?”
In the annex where he was staying, while meeting alone with Wu Gyeong, a member of the Death Spirit Corps who had brought information, Wi Cheongyeong narrowed his eyes.
The person matching the remaining clues was the youngest of the Seomun family, who had periodically gone out for secret night excursions and erased all traces of his movements to and from the family estate.
Seomun Kyung.
‘Wasn’t that man once briefly famous as the Sword Ghost?’
Seomun Kyung.
Born into the Seomun family, renowned for formations, he was one of the rare members with exceptional talent in the sword.
With the full support of the family head, he had received sword instruction from numerous renowned masters since childhood.
When he reached his twentieth year, during the political conference where the Yeongsasin Sword was contested at Dongpyoseorang, Seomun Kyung had participated without hesitation and displayed outstanding skill.
But unfortunately, it so happened that Bu Eunseol, who was making his first step into the martial world from Nangyang Pavilion, was also participating there.
In the end, before he could make a name for himself in the martial world, he suffered a crushing defeat… and vanished from the martial scene.
