Chapter 66
Chapter 66
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Manifestation of Madness (1)
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The sun was beginning to settle over the western mountains.
Even though it wasn't quite sunset glow yet, it strangely appeared blood-red.
'Blood color...'
Murong Suhyang's eyelashes quivered faintly.
"Damn it, he's not even trying to put any strength into it."
Grumbling under her breath, she swung the wooden sword with vigor.
There was an unmistakable edge of irritation in her movements.
A moment later.
Thwack!
Panting heavily, Murong Suhyang tossed the wooden sword aside and promptly sat cross-legged, closing her eyes.
How much time passed?
"Hoo."
When Murong Suhyang opened her eyes, her face was filled with unease.
"Why is that idiot taking so damn long?"
Shouldn't she go check on him right now?
Her older sister was right, of course. The Sword Clan Lord wasn't an idiot—in fact, he'd treat her brother with respect for turning the Ten Sword Sect into the mess it was now. He wouldn't attack him.
But still... why did she feel so worried?
"Damn it, is that bastard chugging booze again?"
Chewing on her lips, Murong Suhyang suddenly jumped to her feet.
"I can't take it anymore. I have to go find that guy."
That was when it happened.
"Are you worried?"
"Gah!"
Murong Suhyang whipped around.
There stood Old Man Gwak.
Bathed in the unusually crimson sunlight, his figure seemed oddly shadowed.
"Old Man Gwak, when did you get here?"
"Heh heh, just a moment ago."
Embarrassed, Murong Suhyang scratched her head.
"I see."
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Eh, well... not really."
"Worried about the young master?"
"Worried? As if!"
She reflexively shouted, then let out a sigh.
"Sorry. It just slipped out."
"Heh heh heh."
"I'm not worried. Why would I worry about that guy? He's a drunken fool, a walking disaster, a hopeless wreck..."
"......"
"Forget calling him a hopeless wreck."
"Little miss."
"Yes?"
"The young master will be safe."
"You think so?"
"Of course."
For some reason, Old Man Gwak's voice carried an unusually strong conviction today.
"I heard the young master passed down Mixed Origin Martial Arts to the patriarch and Subduing Dragon Martial Arts to you, little miss."
"Passed down is a strong word... And I've only learned Twin Dragon Ki so far."
"Mixed Origin One Qi Technique and Subduing Dragon Dual Arts are among the Murong Clan's three supreme divine skills—secret arts that, at their peak, let one overlook the world from on high."
"Oh..."
"The great-grand patriarch who mastered Mixed Origin One Qi Technique had no equals back then aside from the Ten Great Masters. And the previous patriarch, who cultivated Subduing Dragon Dual Arts, achieved brilliant feats in the war against Holy Blood Palace."
His words made her heart race.
She couldn't quite grasp it yet, but thinking about it, Old Man Gwak was a living witness to that turbulent era.
"Since he passed such arts to both of you, the young master must be cultivating the clan's secret supreme techniques himself. With power that can overwhelm the Ten Sword Sect Lord Hwang Gyu head-on, there's no chance anything could happen to him."
The same words felt entirely different coming from him.
Her sister had said something similar, but back then it had felt like a vague hope—just wishing for his safety.
But hearing it from Old Man Gwak put her mind so at ease that she wondered why she'd been worried in the first place.
And so, perhaps, she felt a sudden urge to lean on him.
"Old Man Gwak, there's something I've always wondered about."
"Speak your mind."
"Why did you hide for so long that you were Grandfather's bodyguard? Aside from the Chief Steward, none of us siblings knew until we were grown."
Even as a child, she'd always been polite to him because Seok Ung was especially cautious around him.
Old Man Gwak smiled.
It was a slightly bitter smile.
"What would change if you knew? I'm just Old Man Gwak."
The atmosphere made it hard to press further.
Truth be told, there was something else she really wanted to ask.
'Never talk martial arts with Old Man Gwak, miss.'
That was what she'd been told when she frustratingly wondered why her grandfather's bodyguard—a presumed master—wouldn't teach them any skills.
For a while after, she'd avoided him, resenting him needlessly.
But as time passed, she realized he must have his reasons. Seeing how even Seok Ung acted, it was clear Old Man Gwak wasn't pretending to be a mere servant out of choice.
From then on, to her, he was just Old Man Gwak.
And in time, she even forgot he had been her grandfather's bodyguard.
Gazing at him quietly, Murong Suhyang broke into a broad grin.
"You're right. Old Man Gwak is Old Man Gwak."
"Oh dear, these old knees of mine are aching more with age."
"Sit here for a bit."
"Shall I?"
Murong Suhyang settled beside Old Man Gwak, who sat in the corner of the training ground.
"Old Man Gwak, Old Man Gwak. What was the clan like back in the day?"
"Haven't you heard plenty from the Chief Steward?"
"I want to hear it from you too. You were always with Grandfather, so you must know even more."
"You really want to hear?"
"Yes! Tell me!"
Old Man Gwak smiled warmly.
"The Murong Clan in Yonyeong was..."
Bathed in the glow of the setting sun, the two chatted amiably.
They looked for all the world like a grandfather and granddaughter, utterly at ease.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Here! Over here!"
"Damn it all! This is way worse than it looked!"
The Ink Sword Pavilion was in an uproar. The Crimson Sword Trio, battered by Murong Bi, had returned.
But fewer than half had regained consciousness. Even those who had were dragging broken comrades, fractures everywhere, and were barely coherent themselves.
"Damn it! Strip off those conical hats first!"
"Rip their uniforms! Bones are out of place—hurry and stabilize them!"
"Where's Old Man O? If he's not here, get Physician Bang!"
It was absolute chaos.
The squad members were carried not to their quarters but to the inner infirmary. Most of the swordsmen who staggered in collapsed on the spot.
"This is serious."
One of the resident physicians sighed.
"Nearly all have internal injuries. A few squad members avoided those, but whatever technique hit them has them out cold."
Yi Jongbaek, Pavilion Lord of the Ink Sword Pavilion—known for being even more stoic than the Crimson Sword Captain—grimaced deeply.
His voice, however, remained steady.
"Sealed acupoints?"
"Yes. And during..."
"During?"
"From what the senior squad member said, this Murong Bi ambushed them again on the way back."
"What?!"
Whoosh!
A terrifying killing intent surged from Yi Jongbaek's body.
The physician trembled as he spoke.
"B-but no one died... Though it seems First-Class Elite passed out again because of it."
"Why the hell would that worthless scum do that?"
"That's..."
The physician had no way of knowing.
"How's Gong Deokji? Can he talk?"
"Yes."
Yi Jongbaek strode into the infirmary without permission.
"Good grief."
Exasperation mingled with the fury on Yi Jongbaek's face.
It was a bizarre scene.
Some lay stripped to their undergarments; others aligned shattered bones poking through torn pants. One had splints on a leg and both arms, wearing only his hat; another received treatment bare-chested.
Hats and clothes couldn't be removed recklessly lest bones shift further. They'd stay like this until initial treatment was done.
'This is insane!'
Yi Jongbaek turned his head.
Just then, Gong Deokji—mid-treatment on his left arm, hat off—stood from his spot.
"Pavilion Lord."
"Gong Deokji."
"Yes."
He tried to stand straight before his superior but kept swaying.
Clearly severe internal injuries. His legs had taken hits too, crumbling his balance.
Suppressing his anger, Yi Jongbaek asked slowly.
"Did Murong Bi really attack again?"
"......Yes."
"Why the sudden madness?"
"I'm not sure, but he suddenly started laughing like a maniac and came at us."
"......!"
"I'm sorry."
He had nothing more to say.
Getting crushed by a single foe was humiliating enough, but for that bastard to smash them again while they lay beaten on the way back?
It was an outrage against heaven and earth, but the shame burned too hot even for anger.
Yi Jongbaek sighed softly.
"Unless that scum was possessed by a demon, how could he do such a thing? Truly a vicious bastard."
"......"
"Enough. Get treated."
"Yes."
"Where's the Crimson Sword Captain? Has he shown up?"
"Not yet."
Yi Jongbaek's cheek twitched.
'No matter how busy!'
Unlike Hong In, he actually respected Hong Myeong.
He had his moments of excessive coldness, but as next patriarch, it wasn't bad.
'I taught him strict discipline isn't the same as cruelty.'
From childhood, he'd taught Hong Myeong plenty—not quite a master, but a reliable senior to trust and follow.
And now they were direct superior and subordinate.
'......That kid's changed too.'
Since a few years back?
Hong Myeong, who despite his stoicism had shown human warmth, had grown strangely altered.
Especially harsh with subordinates, somehow.
If anything, he lacked empathy. Treating men like chess pieces at times.
Still, his work improved, and his martial arts progressed steadily.
Seemed heir material.
'No. Tonight, I have to whip him straight.'
His anger and regret stemmed from affection.
That was when Yi Jongbaek turned to leave the infirmary.
'......'
He glanced at a squad member slumped in the corner.
The man, breathing raggedly, suddenly hacked violently.
Dried blood crusted his exposed jaw under the hat. His body shivered—internal injuries must be dire.
'My imagination.'
He'd sensed something off, but it must've been a mistake.
Hard not to, really. Outwardly calm, but rage boiled his heart, mind in turmoil.
Yi Jongbaek sighed quietly and stepped out.
"Not enough hands! Where are all the physicians?!"
"They're tied up!"
"Damn it! Round up some outer courtyard laborers! Every second counts!"
"Give him this medicine—I'll go check!"
"Hurry!"
A medical apprentice jabbed a needle into the squad member's jaw.
The man's mouth naturally parted; the apprentice poured in the decoction.
Done, he withdrew the needle and stood.
At that instant, the dosed squad member slithered across the floor.
In the wide, mindless space, no one noticed him trailing the apprentice out.
Going the opposite way, the squad member shed his hat and melted into the shadows.
Swish. Swish.
Stripped of his outer robes, he spotted a scurrying laborer heading to the warehouse.
The shadow-shrouded man slipped between them.
Not a whisper of cloth; chaos from the Crimson Sword Trio drowned all. No one sensed him.
Moments later.
The man emerged from the warehouse in the laborer's clothes.
Messy hair hid half his face, looking every bit the worker. Crusted blood vanished under strands.
"......Over there."
The shadow-turned-laborer eyed a lavish pavilion.
He dashed toward it desperately.
Like a lifelong laborer with no martial arts—a frantic, ordinary sprint.