Chapter 592: Secret Casket, What Do You Think?
Chapter 592: Secret Casket, What Do You Think?
A man with bandages wrapped around both hands sat in the spectator stands, gazing down at the empty sparring arena.
Yeon Baek-in entered the area cautiously.
"I am Yeon Baek-in, the Hall Master of the Yellow Dragon Martial Arts Hall."
He introduced himself first. Of course, the man likely already knew who he was, considering he was sitting in the very place Yeon Baek-in held most dear. Nevertheless, he offered the greeting to show respect to this terrifying individual.
Earlier, he had fled in such a state of panic that his memory had momentarily blanked out. The killing intent radiating from this man had triggered a primal, bone-deep fear within him.
"Since I have joined hands with the man in the basement, you could say we are on the same side."
Normally, he should have run. Even if he didn't flee the city, he should have hidden in his office until the fighting was over. However, the last words the Fist Demon had spoken in his office had driven him out here.
“Didn’t I cast out everyone who didn’t belong in hell? If you’re still here, it’s because this is where you belong.”
Yeon Baek-in interpreted those words as a death sentence. Now that the Demonic Cult was involved, he knew begging wouldn't solve anything. They would strip him of everything and kill him regardless.
He decided that trusting the man in the basement offered a better chance of survival. And if this terrifying man before him was on the same side, he might just be the one to wipe out those Demonic Cult bastards.
I will never give up.
The fact that the Demonic Cult looked down on him, and that this man was staring at him with such contemptuous eyes, was all because he was weak. It was because they didn't recognize a mere Hall Master as a true martial artist.
Once I get my hands on that martial manual!
He would work himself to the brink of death to become strong. And in that moment, he would look back into those eyes that mocked him and say:
— Lower your eyes.
It was this burning desire that allowed him to stand tall now.
"The reason I came is to deliver important information. The opponents are from the Demonic Cult."
The man didn't show the slightest agitation at the mention of the Demonic Cult. Seeing him so unfazed, it was clear he already knew.
And those bastards didn't even tell me.
It was uncomfortable to keep staring at the silent man, so Yeon Baek-in turned his gaze aside.
Dozens of people, seemingly the man's subordinates, stood scattered around the area. Instead of weapons, they wore gauntlets on both hands.
They are all practitioners of fist techniques.
If there was ever a time to use the phrase "subordinates take after their leader," this was it. Every single one of these martial artists exuded an aura as cold as ice, devoid of even a shred of mercy. Yeon Baek-in could feel it. These weren't ordinary subordinates; they were killing machines raised without a hint of emotion.
Who on earth are you, to not even fear the Demonic Cult?
Yeon Baek-in didn't know, nor did the Fist Demon or the One Flower Sword Venerable. Only Geom Mu-geuk knew his true identity.
One of the Twelve Zodiac Kings, the Fist King Kang Hu.
He was the Fist King, the twelfth and final king among the Twelve Zodiac Kings. Back when they ruled the Murim, a certain saying was popular:
The Twelve Zodiac Kings begin with the sword and end with the fist.
Being the twelfth didn't mean he was the weakest. Aside from the first, the Sword King, the order had been determined regardless of skill.
In his life before the regression, countless people had died by his hands even after he ascended to the position of Fist King. The martial artists of that era lived through a time when no one could stop those fists, which carried an innate, lethal killing intent.
Just then, Kang Hu’s gaze shifted. It was the first time emotion flickered across his indifferent expression.
Yeon Baek-in turned to see a young man walking in. His hands were wrapped tightly in red bandages, looking as if they had been soaked in blood. He stood in stark contrast to Kang Hu and his white bandages.
"I have returned."
The young man offered a respectful fist salute, and Kang Hu nodded.
The aura of this newcomer was also extraordinary. He introduced the two people who had come with him.
"These are the people who came to support us for this task."
Both appeared young, but one man's attire was peculiar. He wore red martial robes embroidered with white lines in the shape of a ghost. The moment Yeon Baek-in saw that outfit, he knew who it was.
Ghost Blade!
He was an absolute master of the Unorthodox Faction, nicknamed Ghost Blade because he wielded his blade like a phantom.
Ghost Blade was that young? How long has he been around?
Could he have achieved Rejuvenation? Or was another young master imitating his clothes? Yeon Baek-in couldn't tell.
The other man had long, narrow eyes and unusually long limbs. He didn't carry his sword on his waist or back; instead, he cradled it against his chest. Both men possessed appearances that were difficult to forget once seen.
To Yeon Baek-in, Kang Hu seemed like the type who wouldn't greet anyone, yet he accepted their greetings. As the two offered a respectful fist salute, Kang Hu returned the gesture from where he sat.
Seeing this, Yeon Baek-in felt an even greater sense of humiliation. While he had been talking, the man had only looked at him with contempt.
After finishing their greetings, the three men walked past Yeon Baek-in toward the spectator stands where Kang Hu was sitting. They didn't spare Yeon Baek-in a single glance as they passed.
Yeon Baek-in realized that the terrifying Demonic Cultist had been right. Cold and heartless. The people gathered here truly belonged in hell.
And before he knew it, he had become one of them.
It was then.
Everyone's gaze shifted toward a single point. People were walking toward them, carrying an immense presence.
Leading the way was the Fist Demon, followed by the One Flower Sword Venerable and Lee An on either side. With these three walking together, they commanded the attention of the entire arena. Despite the dozens of people on the other side, they marched forward with long, confident strides.
An overwhelming killing intent poured out from Kang Hu’s subordinates. It was the first time Lee An had ever encountered such concentrated malice in a real-life situation.
Yeon Baek-in, standing closest, locked eyes with the Fist Demon. He was terrified, but he refused to be crushed by the pressure. He met the Fist Demon's gaze without flinching.
"Didn't you say it yourself? That I belong in this hell too. Did you think I'd run away in fear just because you're from the Demonic Cult?"
The Fist Demon said nothing to him, simply staring at Kang Hu. Yeon Baek-in bristled at being ignored again, but he didn't dare complain to that terrifying face.
Finally, for the first time since Yeon Baek-in had arrived, Kang Hu spoke. He hadn't even spoken to those who had come to support him.
"Fist Demon, I've been wanting to meet you."
The Fist Demon merely nodded once, not asking who the man was. He didn't even seem curious.
Instead, it was Yeon Baek-in who reacted. He was struck with utter shock.
What? Fist Demon? The Fist Demon? That man was a Demon Lord?
He thought he was just a high-ranking expert of the Demonic Cult. He never dreamed that one of the Eight Demon Lords would be here. Had he really just shouted at such a person?
And there wasn't just one.
"And even the One Flower Sword Venerable. As expected of the Young Cult Leader."
Yeon Baek-in didn't even have time to process the name One Flower Sword Venerable. His mind went blank at the mention of the "Young Cult Leader."
Young Cult Leader? What Young Cult Leader? Don't tell me... the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult?
While Yeon Baek-in was reeling from the shock, the gazes of the Fist Demon and Kang Hu locked in mid-air. Yeon Baek-in could tell the man was a true Demon Lord. When Kang Hu’s terrifying killing intent met the Fist Demon, it no longer felt quite as overwhelming. The killing intent and demonic energy were perfectly balanced.
This time, the Fist Demon was the first to speak.
"The martial arts hall is closed today."
The Fist Demon looked slowly around at all of them and spoke coldly. It was the kind of authority Yeon Baek-in had only dreamed of wielding.
"So, everyone, please exit through the door we are about to open."
*
"We're here! Everyone, get up!"
Geom Mu-geuk snapped his eyes open at the sound of someone shouting. The moment he opened his eyes, he was met with a situation he truly hadn't expected. This was the first time he had regained consciousness since being absorbed by the Secret Casket.
Rattle, rattle.
He was inside a moving carriage.
A foul stench hit his nose. About a dozen men were packed tightly into the windowless cargo area of the carriage. Seeing that they were all carrying swords, it didn't seem like they were being taken away as prisoners.
Did some kind of formation activate inside the Secret Casket?
A dangerous formation meant to threaten him? But he had felt so comfortable and at peace when he was being pulled in. He didn't think the Secret Casket would try to kill him.
Geom Mu-geuk first checked his physical condition. He checked if his limbs were intact. Arms normal, legs normal. He could see and hear clearly. His physical condition was good.
The problem was his internal energy.
He only had as much internal energy as a novice who had trained for a few years. It wasn't enough to use the techniques of the Nine Calamities Demonic Art or the Flying Heaven Sword Technique.
Thank goodness.
At least he had a few years' worth. Even a handful of internal energy could help him avoid death in a crisis. That was the extent of his skill for now.
Next, he checked his sword. It wasn't the Black Demonic Sword, but an ordinary steel blade. Of course, once he left this place, it would likely turn back into the Black Demonic Sword. However, one thing remained the same: the Secret Casket was still tucked inside his robes.
Secret Casket, what kind of test is your father trying to put me through?
Geom Mu-geuk assumed this situation was some kind of trial the Secret Casket was presenting to him. If this was a test, there would surely be a way to pass it, and there would surely be a reward. He had to think positively.
Shring.
Geom Mu-geuk drew his sword slightly to see his reflection.
It's my face.
At least he hadn't entered someone else's body.
Seeing this, the man sitting across from him asked, "What did you say your name was?"
He was the owner of the voice that had just woken him up. Mu-geuk pondered how to answer, then decided that in this place, he was just a presence that would eventually vanish like smoke.
"It's Geom Yeon."
"Is this your first time?"
He didn't know what was supposed to be a first, but...
"Yes, it's my first time."
"I knew it. I told them not to let rookies volunteer."
Hearing the word "volunteer," he could roughly grasp the situation.
"I didn't hear anything about that."
"If you don't keep your wits about you, you'll die. Rookies like you are the first to go."
"I'll stay sharp."
He never dreamed the Secret Casket would absorb him, and to make matters worse, he was in this situation. Suddenly, he thought of the Sword King, who would be outside.
If he saw me get pulled in here, he won't just stand by.
His concern was that the Sword King might destroy the Secret Casket to save him, but that was unlikely. The Sword King wasn't that reckless, and since he had seen Mu-geuk being absorbed, he would be certain that this hunk of metal was the true objective. He was probably looking for a way to get inside.
However, Mu-geuk had a feeling the Sword King wouldn't be able to enter. He sensed that one could only enter if they possessed the Secret Casket or had the energy absorbed by it within their body. After all, he had clearly been invited by the Secret Casket.
Eventually, the carriage came to a halt. The curtain was pulled back, and dazzling sunlight poured in.
"Alright, everyone out!"
Geom Mu-geuk stepped out of the carriage. He was in a vast field at the foot of a mountain, where dozens of tents were pitched and hundreds of martial artists were moving about. People shouting, people carrying the wounded, people running somewhere. He could tell instantly.
It's a battlefield!
Everyone who had come in the carriage had volunteered for this war.
"Alright, you lot are over here."
The martial artist who took charge of them divided the carriage passengers into various tents.
"Take the new recruits."
Geom Mu-geuk entered one of the tents. There were three or four martial artists inside. Some were sleeping, some were eating, and one was sitting on a cot sharpening his weapon. All of them looked exhausted and weary.
One of the men frowned as he looked at Geom Mu-geuk.
"Damn it! They sent another rookie."
He still didn't know why he was in this situation, but as always, Geom Mu-geuk did his best in the circumstances he faced.
"I'm Geom Yeon. Fortunately, I'm very lucky. I'm sure I'll be of help."
At that, the man who had frowned at the "rookie" stood up from his cot and shoved a leather pouch into Mu-geuk's arms.
"I'm your superior, Jeong Dae, the Team Leader of the White Tiger 17th Team. Stop talking nonsense and just listen to what I say from now on! Got it?"
"Yes!"
"Your spot is over there."
He was assigned a crude, old cot made of roughly carved wood. Geom Mu-geuk considered asking Jeong Dae about the situation, but he decided to check the outside first and stepped out of the tent.
By the way, where is this?
He had traveled all over the Central Plains, but this place was unfamiliar. If this was a world created by the Secret Casket, it could all be a virtual world. But for that to be the case, too many people were speaking and moving like real human beings.
Secret Casket, what do you think of this situation? Is this a test to see if I can survive this war?
No, it couldn't be such a simple test. With his martial arts, would he really fail to survive even without internal energy?
It was then.
"It's the Murim Alliance Leader!"
"The Alliance Leader has arrived!"
Geom Mu-geuk was startled by the cheers around him. Martial artists began to rush toward the commotion.
Leader Jin came here?
Geom Mu-geuk ran toward the crowd. A middle-aged man wearing robes embroidered with dragons and tigers was walking toward them. His presence was truly overwhelming!
The moment he saw him, Geom Mu-geuk was stunned. This was not the Murim Alliance Leader he knew, Jin Pae-cheon.
The surrounding martial artists cheered for him in unison.
"Martial Emperor Divine Sword! Martial Emperor Divine Sword!"
Geom Mu-geuk was shocked to hear that name. He knew who the Martial Emperor Divine Sword was. Or rather, he had heard of him. He was one of the most famous leaders in the history of the Murim Alliance.
Geom Mu-geuk realized then. The place where he had awakened was not his own era.
This was the Murim of three hundred years ago.