Woman
Blood from Hong Chilsong’s severed sleeve soaked into the floor.
"Ugh..."
-Thud. Thud.
The pain was so awful it nearly blanked out his mind, but he quickly pressed his hand to the wound and sealed the pressure points.
"Elder!"
"Don't move! He's not your opponent!"
Dang Gangjin tried to step in to help, but Hong Chilsong raised his voice and held him back.
Then he kicked his own severed arm toward the Divine Doctor.
"...Divine Doctor. Keep it safe for me."
Jeok Hanseong gave a faint smile, though his lips were clenched tight.
"A severed limb I can manage. A neck, even if Great Daoist Immortal La comes down from the heavens, is another matter. Be careful."
Hong Chilsong gave a small nod as well, then turned his gaze back to Cheongwol.
Cheongwol had not moved a single step from where he had first stood, and he was still looking at him with an expressionless face.
If he had meant to kill him, he would have cut off his head in one stroke, not merely his arm.
As Hong Chilsong steadied the ragged breath leaking from his chest, he slowly spoke.
"...Are you Yuguang's granddaughter? No wonder your manner of speech and the way you carry yourself are so similar."
When his grandfather's name spilled from Hong Chilsong’s mouth, the tips of Cheongwol’s brows twitched almost imperceptibly.
"Your grandfather and I were close friends. Though I wasn't able to see him through to the end."
Righteous qi once again began to ripple around Hong Chilsong.
It was far more unstable than before his arm had been cut off, but its force was plainly visible even to the naked eye.
"Still, I made a promise to that friend. That when I someday returned to the Central Plains, I would help avenge the Im family. I hadn't expected you to come in his place, of course, but a promise is still a promise, isn't it?"
Hong Chilsong pulled the wine gourd from his waist, took a swig, and tossed it away with a careless flick.
"Though whether he'll be listening, I don't know."
-Whump!
The moment the gourd hit the ground, Hong Chilsong's foot split the air and flew toward Cheongwol's face.
Cheongwol raised a hand and blocked it without much difficulty, but the path of the attack was so uncanny that he couldn't seize it.
"I'll at least help you gather your wits. You can't have your revenge if you're still dazed, can you?"
---
---
As Hong Chilsong, who had seemed ready to collapse, fought back with renewed ferocity, Yeon Mukseol drew up every last scrap of inner energy he had left.
The power that ran along his meridians and through the Eight Extraordinary Channels soon turned into black thunder that wrapped around his entire body.
"Old beggar! Keep holding him down!"
-Crackle!
Cheongwol reached out to grab Hong Chilsong, who slipped away like an eel, but he hastily twisted aside and took Yeon Mukseol’s fist head-on.
The power was not as overwhelming as the menacing sound suggested, but that did not matter. The real problem came after.
"You should've dodged instead of blocking."
Black thunder climbed over Cheongwol’s body, flickered, and inverted heaven itself as it surged from the ground toward the sky.
Then his left arm, as though bound by invisible restraints, was wrapped in several strands of black thunder and dragged downward.
"Clan Leader Dang!"
Only after seeing the black thunder did Dang Hyeongeuk finally realize the identity of the man with the Divine Doctor.
That black thunder divine art was the martial tradition representing the Yeon family of the Four Evil Alliance.
"How dare a man of the demonic sect step into my clan without permission!"
Even as he thrust a palm shrouded in red energy toward Cheongwol, an angry rebuke burst from his mouth.
"Have you already forgotten? You were the ones who asked us to come!"
"How shameless, to use such vile trickery!"
At the stale words, Yeon Mukseol gave a slight shake of his head.
The Tang Clan's young lady was rather to his liking, but if Dang Hyeongeuk’s reaction was any indication, the road ahead would be rough.
"Concentrate, will you? Unless you'd like to end up crippled like that old beggar!"
At that, Hong Chilsong, sweating from the veins popping across his forehead, shouted in outrage.
"With one hand, I can still wring the necks of demonic bastards!"
Yeon Mukseol wore a faint smile at the corner of his mouth and muttered to himself low enough that no one else could hear.
"What a bunch of hotheads."
Then he unleashed his force even more fiercely, trying to break Cheongwol’s balance.
Though it was said the three of them were attacking together, Cheongwol was still batting away Hong Chilsong and Dang Hyeongeuk’s hands and feet with only one hand.
...So that's why.
Watching the scene, Yeon Mukseol began to understand at last why the Yeon family had spent so many years trying to find and erase the Sunflower Manual.
A master’s battle was decided by who could draw out the greater number of techniques in the briefest breath.
Yet Cheongwol, even while withstanding the assault of two masters, had not disturbed his breathing in the slightest.
Is he even breathing?
As Yeon Mukseol swallowed dryly and stared at the calm crimson eyes that seemed so utterly out of place in such a desperate struggle, Cheongwol’s gaze slid toward him.
It was a chilling look, like a great predator sizing up a tiny piece of prey.
Death.
The terrifyingly cold force was about to cleave Yeon Mukseol in two when someone grabbed the back of his neck and hurled him toward Jeok Hanseong.
"Kuh...!"
"Young Master! Are you all right?"
With Jeok Hanseong’s support, Yeon Mukseol struggled back to his feet and roughly wiped away the blood trickling down from his forehead, his face pale with shock.
"No, that was close. I nearly died."
He ran a hand through his severed hair and looked back toward where he had been standing.
There, Namgung Cheon was drawing his sword and parrying Cheongwol’s hand.
"He won't last much longer,"
Jeok Hanseong said, and Yeon Mukseol gave a slight nod.
Even now, Namgung Cheon was using only the flat of his blade, as though afraid Cheongwol might be injured.
"What can he do? We have to understand him."
Yeon Mukseol rolled his neck until it cracked, then drew his right foot back.
"...Should I just run now?"
He asked with a sideways smile, and Jeok Hanseong shrugged.
"I'm sure the Tang Clan's young lady would be thrilled."
"...Tch."
-KWA-KWAAANG!
No sooner had he spoken than Yeon Mukseol’s body turned into black thunder and shot at Cheongwol like a spear.
Jeok Hanseong was relieved to see that the rumors were true—Yeon Mukseol really had reached the eighth level of the Black Thunder Divine Art—but his face still grew heavy as he glanced around.
...There are a lot of them.
The killing intent that had first numbered in the dozens had already swelled into the hundreds, filling the area all the way beyond the walls.
Still, with such a huge commotion in their own courtyard, who wouldn't be enraged?
And given that none of them had rushed in recklessly, only watched from the sidelines, they were clearly the Tang Clan's seasoned hidden weapons.
And before those people, they were laying bare the martial art of the leader of the Four Evil Alliance without restraint.
Jeok Hanseong’s brow furrowed of its own accord.
This won't end with just a scolding.
---
---
Namgung Cheon, Hong Chilsong, Dang Hyeongeuk, and Yeon Mukseol.
While his body was dealing with the four of them, Cheongwol's mind had sunk into deep darkness.
Through the faint light, the situation outside flickered into view from time to time, but it hardly mattered.
I'm sleepy...
The drowsiness sweeping over him kept dragging his eyelids shut.
The road he still had to walk was far too long for revenge to be finished now, and he was far too afraid to dig into whether Namgung Cheon’s words were true.
Come to think of it, even though his life had been short, hadn't he been running himself ragged all this time?
Then surely there would be no one to criticize him if he closed his eyes for just a little while.
Just as he thought that and tried to let his leaden eyelids fall—
"Who gave you permission to fall asleep here?"
A woman's clear voice seeped into Cheongwol's ear.
"...?"
Startled awake, Cheongwol opened his eyes at once and looked around.
Silver hair, pale as a snowfield under moonlight.
Eyes shining redder than rubies.
She was more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen, and for a moment Cheongwol forgot what he meant to say and even stopped breathing.
"Did I not ask you? Who gave you permission to sleep?"
When the woman asked again, a hiccup escaped from Cheongwol's mouth.
"...I'm sorry."
The hiccups would not stop, so Cheongwol hurriedly covered his mouth with his hand. The woman watched him for a moment, then let out a thin sigh. As Cheongwol continued to stare at her in a daze, she frowned slightly.
"You'd think, from the way you look, that you inherited our blood as strongly as anyone else through your maternal line. And yet how can you be so..."
She trailed off, but Cheongwol could tell the rest of the sentence would not be kind.
The woman exchanged a few brief words with herself in silence, then lifted a hand over Cheongwol's head, where he stood looking oddly diminished.
"Never mind. It's only natural. So much time has passed."
Though her words were colder than ice, the unease churning in his chest somehow seemed to melt away.
"Didn't I tell you I'd only help you once? If you keep relying on my help, it won't end well for you, a living child or not."
As she gently stroked his head, Cheongwol's eyes slowly widened.
Only then did he realize why the woman had never felt unfamiliar.
"So you've remembered,"
the woman said.
Cheongwol nodded as if under a spell.
The person before him was the woman he had glimpsed on the day of the great ritual at Mt. Kongdong, in the waning seconds of consciousness as everything around him blurred.
Who on earth was she, to help him every time he lost consciousness?
He had a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but the woman merely smiled faintly and laid a finger on his forehead.
"Go and ask your father directly who I am."
Then, just as before, she gave him a light push, and Cheongwol was sent reeling backward by an irresistible force.
"I..."
He reached out with all his strength, trying to grab the woman as she receded into the distance like a dot, but it was useless.
By then, Cheongwol's gaze had already fallen on Namgung Cheon, who was clutching his throat, staggering, and bleeding.