Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Secret Place, Secret (5)
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Thud.
The iron door hit the floor with a heavy clang.
Beneath the iron doors on either side, a large wooden door leading underground came into view, along with its sturdy lock.
"There's a specially made key between these iron doors. Like this."
Ching.
Even after nearly thirty years, the key showed no sign of rust.
The lock was the same, and the wooden door wasn't ordinary material either—it gleamed with a faint purple hue.
Clank!
The lock sprang open.
"No one short of a supreme master could break this lock or door. The lock is made from solid black iron, and the door from thousand-year thunderstruck jujube wood."
"Thunderstruck jujube wood... you mean jujube trees struck by lightning?"
"It wards off evil. It's said to carry an extremely yang energy that repels ghosts and demons."
"I've never heard of thousand-year thunderstruck jujube wood. Is it different?"
"When a jujube tree that's grown spiritually larger and longer-lived gets struck by lightning, it becomes thousand-year thunderstruck jujube wood. It's a rare spiritual tree that boosts its elasticity and hardness several times over, with the power to bounce back the strength of those who've cultivated demonic arts."
"I... see."
"It's natural you wouldn't know. Not many do."
Creeeak.
The door made of thousand-year thunderstruck jujube wood swung open.
It had clearly been sealed for ages, yet the air rising from within wasn't stale at all. If anything, it felt clearer than outside.
"Force it open or break it, and the internal mechanisms activate, causing the entire area to collapse. It's linked to an underground water vein, designed to sweep all the contents inside away with the flood."
"I see."
"It's the work of the Heavenly Mechanism Immortal from the Sima family, who rivaled the Zhuge house."
The Heavenly Mechanism Immortal.
She was the second head of the Sima family, a woman of unparalleled talent who broke from family rules to rise as the clan's number two—a legendary figure.
"I know of her. A heroine of the previous generation in the martial world."
"Her end was tragic."
"Yes. I heard she delved too deeply into forbidden tech, got caught meddling with demonic paths, and was imprisoned in the Martial Alliance's thunder prison."
"The truth is worse."
"Pardon?"
"She was over fifty and had an affair with a young man."
"Ahem! I... see."
"And that lover was a spy sent by the Holy Blood Palace. They schemed to steal her techniques."
"......"
"In the end, the Martial Alliance buried the matter."
"......How do you know this, Young Master?"
"Come inside."
And so the two stepped within.
Whoosh.
A refreshing breeze blew from somewhere.
Whatever the design, ventilation was excellent. Even connected to the water vein, the humidity wasn't high.
Old Man Gwak looked around with trembling eyes.
'Night-luminescent pearls.'
Fist-sized night-luminescent pearls were embedded one by one in the corridor ceiling.
Perhaps due to the long time passed, their glow was dimmed, but it was more than enough to make out objects clearly.
Thus, the two traversed a corridor some ten-odd zhang long.
And emerged into a plaza.
"Whoa."
Old Man Gwak couldn't help but gasp in admiration.
It was called a plaza, but it wasn't vast. Maybe seven-tenths the size of the current Murong estate's main compound.
Yet it was magnificent.
A bit dim, but there was a spacious bedchamber and even a study. Dew-dispelling pearls embedded in the walls everywhere evaporated moisture—these treasures cost more than night-luminescent pearls of equal weight.
Even more astonishing, far off was a large pool connected to a stream. Water flowed in and out at a steady rate, circulating perfectly.
The most shocking sight was on the left wall at the corridor entrance: weapons hanging there.
"Heavens!"
Dozens of weapons were arrayed on the wall.
Every one a masterpiece. Untended for ages, yet they gleamed with extraordinary luster and sharp auras that crackled faintly.
Some were divine weapons that could credibly be called heirlooms of great clans.
"Incredible."
One sword in particular caught Old Man Gwak's eye.
Plain decoration. No sword aura typical of blades. Nothing special aside from the sword body looking exceptionally sturdy.
Yet Old Man Gwak knew. The immense power veiled within that plainness.
"They've stored the Sword Guardian of Justice here."
"Th-that's the Sword Guardian of Justice?"
"Indeed."
A legendary famed sword said to have been wielded by the Alliance Leader two or three generations before Murong Cheon. Known especially for its sensitivity to killing intent—a divine relic.
Staring blankly at the weapons, Old Man Gwak's gaze naturally shifted beside them.
A storage shelf carved into the stone wall. From the size and shape, it seemed meant for medicines.
After surveying the surroundings for a while, Old Man Gwak spoke.
"Is this really the secret repository?"
"......"
"To me, it looks like an emergency safehouse built for some extraordinary person."
Too grand and perfect for a mere safehouse, yet too meticulously prepared—down to the furnishings and layout—to be anything else.
Murong Bi, who had pulled a book from the study and was reading it, spoke calmly.
"Safehouse or repository, what does it matter? No one knows but us."
"Young Master."
"Speak."
"Where is this place?"
Old Man Gwak's voice was steady, brimming with gravity.
Murong Bi, who had been flipping through pages for a while, closed the book.
The book shut, but his mouth opened.
"Where this place is?"
"No matter how I look at it, this doesn't seem like the secret repository the previous Patriarch mentioned."
"It is that repository."
"But I doubt House Murong's manuals are stocked here. This place feels more like......"
"Whatever it is, this was prepared for the main house. Made for main house blood, so ultimately, it belongs to the main house."
"Then, for whom was it made?"
Murong Bi, silently gazing at the book's title, closed his eyes.
For whom was it made? Why was it made?
Why were so many treasures hidden here?
Why hadn't this place been discovered until now?
"Me."
"......?!"
"This place was made for me."
"Young Master."
Old Man Gwak refused to back down further.
The doubts he'd mulled over and suppressed these past fortnight.
"What is your true identity, Young Master?"
Murong Bi opened his eyes.
"Asking about my identity?"
"Yes."
"Then who are you?"
"Pardon?"
"The bodyguard of Murong Heon, the late king of Yonyeong and elder brother to the Martial Alliance Leader?"
"......?!"
"Or an old retainer of the Gwak clan, rotting away his fine skills as a kind old servant even as the house fell to ruin?"
"......"
"Or perhaps not even that."
Murong Bi's gaze intensified.
A look of true authority, brimming with dignity that even Old Man Gwak—once a famed expert—found burdensome to meet.
"A man consumed by resentment, too afraid his own kin might slaughter the master's bloodline to dare pass on martial arts?"
"......!!"
His heart felt ready to burst.
A silent wail of a ghost escaped his gaping mouth.
The guilt and hesitation he'd buried deep, twisted together—an outcry from a soul he hadn't dared examine, unsure if it even existed.
Murong Bi took a step forward.
Old Man Gwak instinctively stepped back.
"I've wondered from the start."
From the start? What start?
Just when was this "start" the Young Master meant?
"Even with the house in such a state, you never trained a single warrior. Not Sujing, not Suhyang—they knew no main house martial arts. Half-baked doesn't even cover it. You have no idea how shocked I was to see some rural old codger practicing basic health tonics belatedly."
"......!"
"That wound on your leg too. At first, I thought you'd been injured by someone. But thinking it over, it wasn't a wound from another. Considering depth and angle, no way it was inflicted by an outsider."
Old Man Gwak's face paled.
The veil hiding a terrifying truth lifted.
Astonishingly, behind it was himself. He had been the one fearing himself all along.
"You crippled your own leg."
The truth he'd desperately tried to forget surfaced bit by bit.
Memories he'd averted from, so starkly obvious.
Once acknowledged, they sharpened crystal-clear, as if from yesterday.
His calf throbbed.
The leg he'd severed himself with his own sword. That deep scar conjured phantom pain from the first cut.
"Your dantian too? I thought you'd destroyed it yourself. But no."
"......"
"You didn't destroy your dantian. You poured out all your inner energy to shake off the vicious shadow that was turning you demonic."
A horrifying aura writhed and spread.
Nonexistent waves churned into a tsunami. An avalanche from the highest peak raged, poised to engulf the world.
Truth, past, loathing, worry, self-reproach, killing intent, rage, madness.
All concepts, emotions, phenomena, words erupted chaotically, shaking Old Man Gwak's mind.
"A few days ago, when I sent the Hong Sword Clan's eldest son—who'd cultivated demonic arts—to fetch the Patriarch, it reminded me of a conversation with my most respected and beloved brother from the past."
"......Brother?"
"Soul-Calming Demonic Chant."
"......!!"
"The Holy Blood Palace scum created it—a heaven-defying sorcery and sound art to sow discord in the righteous martial world. You know it better than anyone. Why?"
Murong Bi pointed a book at Old Man Gwak.
"Because you're the only one who ever perfected the Soul-Calming Demonic Chant! The unparalleled demon who slew the Soul-Returning Witch, head of the Holy Blood Palace's law enforcement!"
Old Man Gwak's body shuddered violently.
Soul-Returning Witch. Soul-Calming Demonic Chant.
A voice from the past echoed like hallucination.
'......Even in death, you'll never escape the demonic chant I left in you.'
'Shut up!'
The bewitching witch who mocked him to the end, even as his sword pierced her heart.
He'd thrown in his lord and a hundred Murong house troops, charging madly to barely sever her head—that female demon.
To kill that one she-devil, a hundred comrades who'd shared joys and hardships were annihilated.
Tears of blood flowed, but he thanked the heavens for slaying the Soul-Returning Witch. It had been that perilous—a single slip, and he'd have fallen.
On the way back with her severed head.
At last, Old Man Gwak—no, Gwak Hogun—realized.
He was the one who'd killed the hundred elites.
Enthralled by the Soul-Calming Demonic Chant, he'd slaughtered his allies in an instant. Only regaining his senses at his lord's shout did he plunge his sword into the witch's chest.
Facing the reality of slain comrades, he nearly went mad—but couldn't even afford that. The true ordeal began then.
The Soul-Returning Witch's curse was real.
The seed of that heaven-defying technique sprouted wildly in his mind.
The mad directive to leave not one cursed Murong bloodline alive consumed him.
Those bearing his lord's blood.
Those wielding his lord's arts.
Those remembering his lord's will.
All became targets for Gwak Hogun.
Gwak Hogun couldn't escape that horrifying madness. Nor did he live fully by the witch's will.
What was the price of his blood-soaked loyalty, sacrificing all he'd built?
"......Who are you?"
Old Man Gwak's face, twisted as if about to burst into sobs, reverted to Gwak Hogun's from that era—filled with despair.
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm you."
A wistful emotion flickered in Murong Bi's eyes.
"A man just like you, writhing to escape the curse scattered by a past life, witnessing a reality where even despair is denied."
"......!"
"Long time no see, Gwak."