The Old Sword Slave of Mount Heaven

There exists a spiritual beast known as the **Human-faced Spider** (인면지주). Named for the pattern on its back that strikingly resembles a human face, this spiritual beast is a spider that grows as large as a tiger through countless moltings over many years.

Furthermore, the Human-faced Spider is venomous. Not all spiders possess venom, nor do all venomous spiders become Human-faced Spiders. However, every single Human-faced Spider is venomous, leading people to surmise that its toxicity originates from its inner core.

It is a lethal poison capable of dissolving a human into a pool of bloody water in an instant if they lack immunity. Such is the inner core that produces this venom. To a martial artist practicing poison arts, the inner core of a Human-faced Spider is as precious as an ice crystal to a practitioner of Yin/Cold arts, or the ten-thousand-year fire carp to a practitioner of Yang/Hot arts.

Thus, along with the Flying Centipede, the Human-faced Spider is a spiritual beast that poison-art practitioners yearn to encounter, even if only in their dreams. And Yoo Jeong's master, the Sword Empress, had actually encountered one in the past.

'She ended up being the embarrassed one because of my reaction.'

Even back then, Yoo Jeong was already quite unflappable. He had simply watched his master leaping here and there with a completely expressionless face. Naturally, her plan to startle him came to nothing, and his master was left to writhe in the belated wave of shame that washed over her.

Yet, that embarrassing memory was not entirely useless.

'Using the terrain. As fast and stealthily as possible.'

Yoo Jeong vaulted over the wall of the Blood Battle Sect.

'It's quiet.'

It was the dead of night. The moon shone alone like a small boat floating on a lake, its delicate light slowly bleeding into the indigo sky as Yoo Jeong walked alone.

Namgung Sua had remained at the Flower Moon Pavilion. There were several reasons. Someone was needed to protect his master, and they had to fill the vacancy in the pavilion's security.

"This humble one is fine. Though the guards must recuperate, I will simply be careful. You do not need to worry, my lord."

Despite her words, the profoundly sorrowful look in her eyes was anything but ordinary. Wearing a pitiful expression like a virtuous woman cast out by her husband, she had made him feel incredibly self-conscious. In the end, Yoo Jeong had to ask Namgung Sua to look after the mistress of the Flower Moon Pavilion as well. By now, Namgung Sua and his master were likely resting in the mistress's room.

'She might have done that with Master in mind.'

How disappointed Namgung Sua had looked when Yoo Jeong snatched his master back from her arms. Although he didn't particularly like her coveting his master, it wasn't a situation where he could bring his master along, so he had gone along with her wishes.

'Anyway.'

He scanned his surroundings with a suspicious gaze. It was quiet. Only the occasional chirp of insects broke the silence. Of course, given the hour, it was only natural, but it was still far too quiet.

The Blood Battle Sect. This unorthodox sect, which had expanded its influence through loan sharking, possessed a surprisingly large compound. Its well-manicured garden offered a different vibe from the dizzyingly extravagant Flower Moon Pavilion, but the overall impression of luxury was the same.

And yet...

'The defenses are sparse.'

Though torches illuminated various spots, there were very few guards. Yoo Jeong, who was not particularly skilled in stealth and infiltration and had braced himself for a fierce battle, felt a bit deflated. There were so few people. Several torches that should have lit up ideal infiltration routes—like near garden trees or blind spots—had gone out due to neglect. Even the few men he did spot had faces lined with exhaustion, barely putting any effort into their patrol.

Still, he did not let his guard down and moved cautiously. Utilizing lightfoot and movement techniques, he suppressed his presence as much as possible. The foundation of his movements was the very technique his master had shown him. It was said that martial arts originally began by mimicking the movements of animals. This was a movement of a spiritual beast, performed by none other than the supreme master, the Sword Empress. Even if the original situation had been absurd, the movements etched in his memory were anything but a joke. Like a spider traversing its own web, Yoo Jeong glided through the Blood Battle Sect, completely undetected.

Thus, he reached the center of the Blood Battle Sect's pavilion. Arriving at a lavish bedroom that was obviously the sect leader's, Yoo Jeong frowned.

'It's empty.'

Up until the moment Yoo Jeong left the Flower Moon Pavilion, he had heard nothing about Jeon Gyeon leaving the Blood Battle Sect. Had they crossed paths? Entertaining that tiresome possibility, he circulated his internal energy.

The **Heavenly Light Unobstructed Divine Art** (천광무애신공). The ultimate technique of the Wuzong Heavenly Sword Style, fully deserving of the title "divine art," surged like a dragon within Yoo Jeong. Rising from his dantian, the internal energy instantly enveloped his entire body. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠True to its name, "Heavenly Light Unobstructed," the energy flowed through his meridians without the slightest hindrance.

Yet, he deliberately suppressed its momentum. What he needed right now was not explosive power, but a stealthy sensory perception. Atop the pavilion, Yoo Jeong stood with his back to the moonlight. Though no wind blew, his fluttering hair and sleeves suddenly settled into stillness, but his eyes shone with greater intensity.

*Drip—*

As if a droplet had fallen onto a still water surface, an invisible wave of energy rippled outward in concentric circles with Yoo Jeong at the center.

'Two places.'

Two likely locations caught his sensory net. They were in opposite directions, east and west. Which way should he go? His hesitation was brief, his movement swift.

*Swish, shhh.*

Even as he stepped across the roof tiles, his footsteps made almost no sound—a testament to his refined movements.

'The probability is higher in the west.'

An expert estimated to be at least a **First-class** or even a **Peak Expert** was in the west. This exceeded the rumored martial prowess of Jeon Gyeon, but it wouldn't be strange for someone claiming to be the leader of a sect to have a hidden trump card. *Hide thirty percent of your strength.* It was a maxim his master had repeated to him countless times. Thus, by all accounts, heading west was the logical choice, but Yoo Jeong did not do so. He headed east—the direction he had just come from.

'Nothing was felt there earlier.'

A large storehouse. Judging by the faint scent of rice, it was likely a building used for storing foodstuffs and various supplies. There were even two guards posted outside. The reason Yoo Jeong had bypassed it earlier was simple: he believed there was no way Jeon Gyeon would be inside a storehouse at this hour. However...

'Someone felt my energy wave.'

The moment Yoo Jeong released his wave of energy, a presence was detected in the storehouse. It was only for a fleeting instant. In the blink of an eye, the person had concealed their presence from Yoo Jeong's senses. Hiding one's presence was not surprising in itself. He hadn't exerted his full power, and the Murim was filled with all kinds of bizarre and mysterious martial arts. What surprised Yoo Jeong was that the opponent had actually sensed his wave of energy. It was internal energy that he had woven and controlled with extreme delicacy. In fact, the martial artist in the west hadn't noticed it at all.

'The Demonic Cult. Is it them?'

That was why Yoo Jeong retraced his steps. The guards watching the storehouse were of no concern. They were the same ones who hadn't even noticed his presence when he passed by the first time. Even as Yoo Jeong's hands struck their acupoints—passing through the Tianzhu and Gegu, then striking the Muncheong and Sigak to render them unconscious—they failed to catch even a whisper of his presence.

The lock securing the storehouse door was no different; it could not stop him. He didn't even draw **Cheonru** ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠(천루). A light brush of his sword-finger gesture was more than enough.

*Creaaaak—*

With his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he pushed the door open. The ungreased hinges groaned loudly, echoing inside the storehouse.

As expected, the storehouse was packed with sacks of rice and long-lasting dry goods. However, contrary to his expectations, there was absolutely no presence to be felt.

'Should I slash the area?'

He scanned his surroundings as he entered, but found no traces of anyone having recently entered or exited. Yet, it was impossible for Yoo Jeong's senses to have erred. Wondering if they were hiding using some method unknown to him, Yoo Jeong contemplated swinging his sword, but ultimately decided against it.

'Jeon Gyeon first.'

Capturing Jeon Gyeon would allow him to trace the tail of the Demonic Cult anyway. He had no desire to cause a commotion and introduce unnecessary variables. Thus, after Yoo Jeong departed, the storehouse fell back into a silence so profound that not even the chirping of insects could be heard.

Back to the present.

"Are you Jeon Gyeon, the leader of the Blood Battle Sect?" Yoo Jeong asked with cold eyes.

A loan shark, they had called him. While Yoo Jeong had no intention of defending a man who ran away from his debts, he didn't particularly care for Jeon Gyeon's methods either. Perhaps because of that, a sharp edge naturally crept into Yoo Jeong's voice.

"Who... are you?"

"The Demonic Cult."

"Gasp!"

Jeon Gyeon's eyes widened so much they looked ready to pop out of his skull. Such was the sheer impact of that name.

'Did I hit the mark so perfectly that he can't even make an excuse?'

As Yoo Jeong thought this, his brow twitched.

"W-what brings an esteemed expert of Mount Heaven to this place?"

Perhaps because he was unarmed, Jeon Gyeon—who had lived several times longer than Yoo Jeong—bowed his head with utmost deference. However, the content of his words was the problem.

'He mistook me for a member of the Demonic Cult?'

There was a saying that unorthodox martial artists were quick-witted. Since betrayal and underhanded tricks ran rampant, it was said that any black path martial artist who lacked quick wits had long since ended up at the bottom of the Yangtze River. Yoo Jeong suddenly found himself doubting that saying.

'There's no way a member of the Demonic Cult would refer to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their own faction as the "Demonic Cult."'

Jeon Gyeon seemed to have decent business acumen, but was his judgment a completely different story? Harboring doubts, Yoo Jeong continued speaking.

"I am not a member of the Demonic Cult. The ones who contacted you, the Demonic Cult faction, are the ones."

Yoo Jeong had no intention of exploiting his misunderstanding. Thus, he quickly corrected the misconception, but...

"T-then, perhaps, are you from the Wulin Alliance?"

Still not fully disabused of his confusion, Jeon Gyeon brought up the Wulin Alliance. Yoo Jeong, who was about to clear up the misunderstanding once more, hesitated. While he couldn't bring himself to impersonate the Demonic Cult, the Wulin Alliance was a different story. Since his companion was a member of the Wulin Alliance anyway, he wasn't entirely unrelated to it. With that thought, he gave a slight nod.

*Click-clack.*

One could almost hear the sound of his eyes rolling. Jeon Gyeon, who had been shifting his gaze busily as if calculating on an abacus, seemed to have finished his mental math and prostrated himself flat on the floor.

"Great Heroooo! Thank goodness you have come! You have no idea how terribly I have been persecuted by those scoundrels!"

'So he's going to play the victim.'

Of course, he might actually be a victim. But considering his behavior just now... his words were hardly trustworthy.

"Yes. I have come to eliminate the Demonic Cult. Are they currently staying here?"

Yoo Jeong continued, lightly stroking Cheonru. His suspicion of Jeon Gyeon remained, but he chose not to press him further on it.

"No, they are not. They only visit occasionally to threaten me, and then they disappear again."

Though Jeon Gyeon wore an awkward smile, he was still an unorthodox martial artist. If Yoo Jeong pressured him too hard, he might shut his mouth entirely or feed him false information. It was better to play along and use him. Yoo Jeong deemed this to be the most rational course of action.

"What did they order you to do?"

However, there was one thing he needed to clarify. The Divine Physician. Jeon Gyeon had tracked the Divine Physician before Yoo Jeong's group did, and he hadn't been hindered by the Demonic Cult. Perhaps he could obtain information different from what Haomen possessed. With that hope, Yoo Jeong casually posed the question, prompting Jeon Gyeon to roll his eyes once more. The Divine Physician was an important and respected figure. Could he really tell a member of the Wulin Alliance that he had hunted such a person under the orders of the Demonic Cult? Watching Jeon Gyeon, whose internal conflict was painfully obvious, Yoo Jeong thought:

'As expected, he is not to be trusted.'

Sure enough.

"Well, they asked me to find a certain person... but I don't know the details myself. At any rate, they did give me a contact method to use once the person was found..."

Slinking back, Jeon Gyeon cautiously ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reached into his robes and pulled something out. Wary that it might be a hidden weapon, Yoo Jeong had prepared to crush his skull at a moment's notice, but he stood down. It was a pouch emitting a peculiar scent.

"They said that if I burn this within our compound, they would come to find me. Yes, that's right. They definitely said that."

'He's trying to change the subject because it's awkward to answer, all while weighing his options?'

*I'll let it slide for now.* Yoo Jeong would soon regret having made that decision.

"Great Heroes! A lackey of the Wulin Alliance was tracking you and threatening me, so I laid a trap for him!"

Not long after the powder inside the pouch was burned, a martial artist in a black cape—a member of the Demonic Cult—appeared. But he was not alone. As their numbers grew from one to two, eventually reaching twelve, Jeon Gyeon, who had been cautiously reading the room, completely flipped his attitude.

'I should have beaten him to a pulp earlier.'

Gripping Cheonru, Yoo Jeong made a silent vow. That bastard would be next.