The False King (1)
The quarters the four entered were far too comfortable to imagine as mere rooms carved into an underground cavern. Not particularly ornate or antique, but spacious enough, complete with beds and tables. Like the open area before, night-luminescent pearls studded the walls, bathing everything in bright light.
“Oh ho?”
Gadeuksang ran an admiring hand over a small orb embedded in the wall. “Never thought I’d see one of these down here.”
Paeryul cocked his head. “What’s so special about it?”
“It’s a humidity-repelling pearl.”
“Humidity-repelling pearl?”
“Yeah. An artifact that clears moisture from a set area. Worth three or four times a night-luminescent pearl of the same size.”
Paeryul eyed the pearl anew. It looked utterly ordinary, just like any other bead.
Gadeuksang’s gaze deepened. “And this isn’t even a basic one. It doesn’t just remove humidity—it regulates the exact level.”
“Even pricier, then?”
“Like night-luminescent pearls, these vary wildly in price by quality. This is upper-grade—not the absolute best, but something even wealthy nobles struggle to obtain.”
Paeryul smacked his lips. “You know your stuff, huh?”
“I’ve seen all sorts of things in my time. Gotta know what’s what.”
At that moment, Jegal A-yeon frowned. “That’s odd.”
“Hm?”
“Value comes from supply and demand. Humidity-repelling pearls are expensive for good reason—they don’t come from the Central Plains.”
Gadeuksang nodded. “Right you are. I hear they’re from the Western Regions.”
“Exactly. The real question is, how many of these are embedded in this massive cavern?”
“Hm……”
“Even if it’s only for VIPs, the scale here defies belief. There must be dozens at least.”
“True enough.”
A grave shadow crossed Jegal A-yeon’s face. “I can’t help but wonder. It’s bizarre. How loaded is Yang Cheon to plaster a place like this with such rarities?”
Paeryul chimed in. “Or maybe he’s got backers footing the bill.”
“Even so……”
“What? Too extravagant?”
“Yeah, that’s my take.”
“Doesn’t strike me as that weird. Impressive, sure, but not impossible.”
The three turned puzzled eyes to Paeryul.
He tapped his sword sheath. “In the martial world, martial prowess is power, a title is worth, and battle records are proof, right?”
“……!”
“The Thirteen Thrones of Sacred Heaven are called transcendent masters rivaling—or surpassing—the absolute peaks from three hundred years ago, the golden age of the martial world. Monsters who’ve outgrown humanity.”
Dang Sang-a, silent until now, spoke up. “So you’re saying Yang Cheon merits this level of support?”
“That’s how I see it. Plenty of ways to make money, but getting as strong as him? Near impossible.”
Paeryul glanced at her. “You’d know better than most.”
He wasn’t wrong. Every one of the Thirteen Thrones of Sacred Heaven was dubbed a god of martial arts. Even the Three Sovereigns, said to lag behind the Ten Immortal Emperors, could have claimed the title of supreme under heaven in the right era.
In short, their very existence was priceless. Regardless of ideology, they stood in a position worthy of such backing.
“That leaves one question.”
“Hm?”
Jegal A-yeon’s eyes sparkled like stars. “If there’s a person or group providing this support, what do they want from Yang Cheon in return?”
* * *
“Here.”
The old man leading Yeon Hojeong halted before a pitch-black stone wall. Ominously dark, it loomed as tall as a city gate.
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes sharpened.
Hyeon Am Mun.
The deepest independent chamber in the Blood Dragon Vein—no, Muk Ryong Bu. High terrain overall, with the best air circulation. Beyond the door lay stairs rising straight up—ninety-nine steps in total. Its unique traits made it unforgettable.
And the way to open it was……
“Deputy Leader.”
The old man bowed, voice deferential. “I’ve brought the representative of the Mujong Sect.”
Then—
Ku-gung!
With a heavy thud, Hyeon Am Mun shifted inward by half a foot.
Kwa-rung!
It slid slowly leftward, vanishing into the wall. A sliding door mechanism.
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes gleamed fiercely.
It’s different.
Originally, a massive protrusion at chest height jutted from the right side. Immovable without inner energy, pressing it opened the door.
Now, that spot was hollowed out. They’d ripped it away and redesigned the mechanism entirely.
Not ordinary at all.
Not crude reassembly of parts, but masterful reconfiguration of an existing divine mechanism. Incredible engineering.
Countless trap experts must have been poured into turning the Blood Dragon Vein into Muk Ryong Bu.
The more he saw, the more he thought—the more Yeon Hojeong sensed it.
This was beyond what Yang Cheon could build alone.
Yang Cheon.
He quelled his surging doubts and killing intent.
Are those bastards really behind you?
He didn’t know yet. No jumping to conclusions.
He took a deep breath.
Stay calm.
For this mission, Yeon Hojeong vowed not to assume anything rashly. Even his instincts would be set aside for now.
Transparency and certainty. No presumptions without solid reasoning and confirmed facts.
Kung!
At last, Hyeon Am Mun swung fully open. Stairs ascended directly before him, at a gentle angle that promised an easy climb.
“Go in,” the old man said.
Yeon Hojeong stepped forward without a word.
“One bit of advice, out of concern.”
“……”
“Show no disrespect to him.”
Yeon Hojeong glanced sidelong at the old man. He hadn’t seen this one in his past clashes with Yang Cheon. Nor had Cheong Ho.
Yet he was strong. Astonishingly so—his restrained explosive power evoked Yeon Wi himself. At Yeon Hojeong’s current level, even tracing the old man’s inner energy roots was a challenge.
Yeon Hojeong spoke. “I’ve got a question too.”
“……”
“Are you from the Central Plains?”
The old man offered no reply.
Yeon Hojeong stared a moment longer, then ascended the stairs.
Ku-gu-gung!
Hyeon Am Mun sealed shut the instant his foot touched the first step. How it worked escaped even Yeon Hojeong.
Thus, he climbed—one step at a time.
Yang Cheon.
The man who had emerged into the world with fierce ambition blazing in his eyes. The Black Lion who roamed a path to supremacy apart from the White Path.
What an ironic fate. To meet again here, in the place where I buried you.
Before the bold challenge of a young black path prodigy, Yang Cheon had shown not anger, but delight. Perhaps the loneliness of an unmatched warrior tormented him. Or maybe excitement at the prospect of bringing him under his wing.
Whatever the reason, Yang Cheon’s vessel was no ordinary one.
I killed you with my own hands, but I never hated you.
A forceful driver, yet lacking in many ways to realize his ideals—had he simply existed as the Earth King, he could have etched his name in history.
That was the Yang Cheon in Yeon Hojeong’s memory.
So he hoped.
The world has changed in so many ways since my return, but I don’t want to come to hate you anew—the one tied to memories that weren’t so bad.
Wuuuung!
With each step upward, he felt it more keenly. The oppressive presence bearing down on his entire body.
The overwhelming power seeping out, dominating the whole space.
Pa-sak!
The stair edge crumbled slightly. He’d unconsciously tensed his foot against the immense pressure.
So please, don’t tell me you’ve joined hands with those damnable scum.
Huuuung.
A hot gust blew in.
Pa-ra-rak.
A wind of considerable force. Yeon Hojeong’s robes flapped wildly against it.
His body grew heavier by the step. The closer he drew to “him,” the exponentially greater the physical burden.
Come on, old man.
A wry smile tugged at Yeon Hojeong’s lips.
What’s so curious? So bored that you’re testing me like this?
He’d resolved to shelve his instincts for now, but he couldn’t ignore their clamor.
This wasn’t Yang Cheon. He was bolder, weightier—a man closer to a fierce hawk than a scheming villain.
Not one to recklessly unleash his power just to test some hot-blooded young master.
Already drunk on the throne’s allure?
Yeon Hojeong closed his eyes.
Pa-sak!
The ninety-seventh step cracked.
Kwa-deuk!
The ninety-eighth—his foot sank half an inch deep.
And finally, the ninety-ninth.
Wuuuung!!
The air roiled.
Tsu-tsu-tsu-tsu.
A subtle cyan glow rose from Yeon Hojeong’s body. The manifestation of Azure Dragon Qi.
The azure dragon was a surging wave, adept at evasion and counter. Not just its forms, but its true energy shared those traits.
Huuung.
Much of the crushing pressure dissipated. The Azure Dragon Qi spread through him, guiding him through the gaps.
Kung!
His left foot hit the final step.
Seu-reuk.
The mountain-like pressure vanished as if washed away.
A low voice cleaved the air. “Impressive.”
Yeon Hojeong opened his eyes.
There, at last, stood the Black Lion—faded mane whipping in the wind.
“Cheong Ho needs more training. Equal footing? Absurd. Even unleashing Tiger Dance, I doubt he’d last twenty exchanges—yet dismissed in one line as ‘usable’?”
Yang Cheon sat on a grand dais, surprise flickering across his face.
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes deepened.
Yang Cheon!
A distant bond rekindled at last.
“Youth is a time of countless strengths matched by fatal flaws. They deny it, but they swing wildly on others’ words.”
“……”
“Knowing that, I still can’t help saying it.”
Yang Cheon admired him openly. “A truly remarkable young man. I haven’t been this shocked by anyone in ages.”
A faint, enigmatic smile touched Yeon Hojeong’s face. Yang Cheon’s brow twitched.
Yeon Hojeong clasped his hands in a crisp salute. “Greetings, Deputy Leader Yang. I am Jeong of the Mujong Sect.”