Chapter 395: I Don't Feel So Good... (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 395: I Don't Feel So Good... (2)
After hearing the Poison King’s death threat—delivered via Tang Soyeol—I wolfed down my meal and got moving. As I walked, I desperately tried to think of a plausible excuse to decline his invitation, but nothing convincing came to mind.
We really are just eating, right?
I prayed that was the case. It probably was, but a chill still ran down my spine.
Nah, there’s no way he’d actually poison me.
Logically, I knew he wouldn't, but his mastery of assassination arts and his infamous obsession with his daughter had me on edge. Normally, I wouldn't worry; he was, after all, a Lord of one of the Four Noble Clans.
…But then I remember the White Heavenly Sword. None of them are normal.
I'd come to realize that not a single Lord from the Four Noble Clans was ordinary. I could've sworn they weren't like this in my past life. Was I just oblivious back then, or had something actually changed?
I doubt anything has changed.
Even if my actions had altered history, it would be strange for this to be affected. The simpler truth was that I just hadn't known how eccentric these men always were. I was sure of it. If that wasn't the case, then the future of the Central Plains was doomed—well, it was always doomed anyway.
“Sigh.”
Everyone I met was crazy and strange. Still, I couldn't afford to turn down the Poison King’s invitation. I was already planning to go to Sichuan, the land ruled by the Tang Clan, and Tang Soyeol had been visibly cheerful when I told her I would go.
Honestly, if I'd wanted to, I didn't have to go to Sichuan with her, nor did I have to see the Poison King. He had a different objective for his trip anyway.
He is transporting a prisoner.
A prisoner from the Murim Alliance’s dungeons—a martial artist from the Unorthodox Faction who had taken part in the invasion of the Heavenly Dragon Academy. The Black Dragon and his crew had played a big role in spreading my name throughout the Central Plains, and the Poison King was tasked with delivering them to the Tang Clan.
I frowned.
What a brutal method.
They insisted on moving these prisoners to Sichuan instead of dealing with them in Henan. Henan had its share of expert interrogators, but some stubborn bastards never talked. The Tang Clan, however, had ways of making even them speak. The Tang Clan was considered a pillar of the Orthodox Faction precisely because they handled this kind of dirty work, a fact most people were unaware of.
But I knew.
In my past life, after the Demonic Cult seized Sichuan, I went to the Tang Clan’s basement immediately after personally killing the Poison Queen. I went there on the Heavenly Demon’s orders, and what I saw was hell. Even I, who had witnessed countless horrors, could only describe it as such. There was no way the clan's Lord, the Poison King, was unaware of that place.
Knowing this, I couldn't help but feel uneasy around him. He might have the characteristic, innocent look of the Tang Clan, but to me, it seemed like a chilling mask hiding the grim truth of what lay beneath their estate. The Murim Alliance knew the Tang Clan’s secret, too, which was why they had requested the Poison King handle the prisoners. It was a reminder that the Alliance wasn't as clean as it pretended to be.
Though that's obvious.
No organization could survive if it were completely pure. I knew that better than anyone, but I still disliked the reality.
Tsk.
Even so, I couldn't reject the invitation this time. While I had reasons to decline, I had a bigger reason to accept.
Nothing ever comes easy in this damned world.
I had a very important objective in Sichuan—the White Demonic Stone. I needed it to stabilize my unstable Fusion Realm and advance to a higher level. To get that stone, I needed the approval of the Tang Clan. Because of that, I couldn't afford to offend the Poison King. Originally, I had planned to ask Tang Soyeol to get me out of this…
But I guess there's no helping it.
Since I had no choice, I had to go meet him. With that resigned thought, I continued on my way, sighing. I reached my destination and had to focus on the immediate matter. The Poison King had invited me for dinner, but I had something to take care of first that afternoon.
The guards at the gate moved aside as they saw me approach; they seemed to have been notified in advance. I gave a slight bow and entered, my eyes briefly tracing the emblem on their chests.
They wore white uniforms embroidered with wind waves—the mark of the Kunlun Sect. There was only one sect in the Central Plains with that symbol. As I walked further in, I felt a similar energy emanating from all directions—the distinct Taoist energy of the Kunlun Sect.
I continued walking, sensing the Qi around me. I had only one reason for visiting this place filled with Taoists: to see the old man behind the door ahead.
Slide.
I carefully opened the door and entered. The old man on the bed welcomed me.
“You came.”
He was an old man with white hair and a wrinkled face. He had lost one of his arms, but he waved at me with his remaining hand. It was the Qinghai Sword.
* * *
I carefully sat down and accepted the tea and snacks offered by a Taoist disciple.
“Have you been well?”
“Yes. You must be busy, so I apologize for calling you here.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
How long has it been since we last met?
Probably about a month. I’d run into him a couple of times after the incident, but this was the first time the Qinghai Sword had formally summoned me.
He spoke to me with a smile. “I hear there isn’t a place that doesn’t know your name anymore. Is that right?”
“…That might be an exaggeration.”
Even as I said it, I knew he wasn't entirely wrong. I’d even heard that kids in the streets of Henan were putting on plays called The Lesser King of Hell. If I ever caught them, I’d give them a good smack on the head, but I never seemed to run into them. If they had seen me, they probably wouldn't see the light of day again.
Whether he sensed my feelings or not, the Qinghai Sword smiled. “You accomplished a great deed. It’s not a bad thing for such stories to spread.”
“…Thank you.”
While it might be positive overall, it bothered me because I knew the Alliance had deliberately spread information about me.
I pushed my feelings aside and asked, “How have you been feeling recently?”
“Better than ever.”
“I see.”
He spoke as if nothing was wrong, but I didn't believe him for a second. Not only was he missing a hand, but the fact that he had been confined to his bed since that day suggested a severe injury.
…Moreover, the situation isn’t good right now.
The Heavenly Dragon Academy was under the Murim Alliance's umbrella, but the Kunlun Sect was responsible for managing it this year. Because of that, they shared some blame for the damage caused by the Black Dragon’s ambush. Jang Cheon had already stepped down as the Alliance Leader.
And I heard the Qinghai Sword is stepping down from his position as Sect Leader, too.
It wasn't confirmed, just a rumor. That said, the Kunlun Sect had acted decisively after the incident. They held a small funeral for the deceased, compiled and sent out information on all the martial artists involved, and used their Qi to preserve the bodies from decay until representatives from each clan and sect could arrive.
I personally thought they had taken sufficient responsibility, but others clearly disagreed. The Kunlun Sect was being called incompetent, led by a false leader. Insulting rumors were spreading far and wide.
But were the rumors about the Qinghai Sword and the Kunlun Sect true?
I’m not sure.
I, for one, didn't think so. But I had no idea what others thought.
After a moment of reflection, I asked another question. “Sect Leader.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you call me here?”
I was genuinely curious.
Hearing my question, the Qinghai Sword took a sip of his tea. He seemed to need a moment to gather his thoughts, so I didn't rush him.
After a silence, he spoke. “First, I called you here… to thank you.”
“…But you already thanked me before.”
He had expressed his gratitude after waking up, thanking me for saving the other disciples. I had hated hearing it then, and it wasn't any different now.
“Gratitude is something one can express more than once.”
“Really, it’s unnecessary—”
“Moreover, I don't believe thanks should be given with words alone.”
Just as I was about to tell him to stop, the Qinghai Sword pulled something from his pocket and handed it to me.
“What is this?”
It was a round, gold object, about the size of a coin. I wasn't sure what it was.
As I stared at it curiously, he explained. “I heard you plan to go to Sichuan in a few days. Is that correct?”
“Huh? Ah, yes, that’s right.”
Where did he hear that? It seemed like everyone knew about my plans.
“This is… my way of showing gratitude. I prepared it after hearing of your trip. Please accept it.”
So this thing will be useful in Sichuan? If that was the case, I supposed I could take it, but I didn't feel I deserved any reward.
“I can’t accept this, Sect Leader.”
I didn't deserve anything from him. Countless people had died because I changed history. All I did was kill a few bastards from the Unorthodox Faction out of sheer rage. The people who were saved because of my actions? Everyone should have lived. Those who died shouldn't have in the first place. Did I deserve a reward for that? I didn't think so.
My response cast a silence over the room. The Qinghai Sword stared into my eyes for a moment before speaking, stroking his beard. “It seems your mind is burdened with guilt for reasons I cannot fathom.”
“…”
“What is it that makes you shrink back so much?”
He asked, but I couldn't answer. This was something I could never tell anyone.
Seeing that I wouldn't respond, the Qinghai Sword let out a small breath and spoke calmly. “I don't know the reason, but if you won't accept it as a reward, then accept it as a gift.”
“…A gift?”
“Do you remember when I told you I was fond of you?”
“Yes.”
He had said that when we first met at the Heavenly Dragon Academy.
“Take that as my reason for giving this to you.”
“But—”
“Are you going to embarrass this old man further?”
“…”
The Qinghai Sword spoke with a slight frown. Left with no choice, I silently accepted the gold token and put it in my pocket.
He seemed satisfied and smiled. “Keep that until you reach Sichuan, and use it there.”
“What do you mean, ‘use it there’…?”
He then told me a specific location.
“…!”
My eyes widened in shock. The location he named was the exact same place where the White Demonic Stone was located.
How does he know?
As I stared at him in disbelief, the old man spoke with an inscrutable expression. “I hope this helps you on your path, even if just a little.”
“…”
I bit my lip, seeing the genuine kindness faintly visible in his eyes.
Noting my expression, the Qinghai Sword continued with a smile. “I hope you find peace. Not for others, but for yourself.”
Peace, huh? I didn't really understand what he meant. That word felt far beyond my grasp.
“…Thank you.”
Even so, I thanked him and bowed respectfully. I didn't have the confidence to ask him to elaborate.
The Qinghai Sword patted my head, seeming satisfied. A flood of thoughts passed through my mind.
Peace, huh…
It felt a long way off, but I, too, hoped I would reach that place one day. That state called peace.
Dinner time arrived, and I frowned as I recalled the Qinghai Sword’s words from earlier.
Peace, my ass.
I was once again reminded that the word was utterly unsuited for me. The dishes on the table looked incredibly delicious, but I hadn't taken a single bite. I wasn't in a situation where I could eat comfortably.
The middle-aged man gazing at me, teacup in hand—the ruler of the Tang Clan, the Poison King—spoke.
“I’ll ask you again, Master Gu.”
Thankfully, the food didn't seem to be poisoned, but the intensity of the man's gaze made my throat feel dry.
As I struggled to endure the oppressive atmosphere, the Poison King spoke.
“Do you have no intention of taking my daughter, Soyeol, as your own?”
And then I realized. This situation was far more difficult than I had ever anticipated.