Nine Deaths and One Life (3)
Revenants fell into two broad categories.
Those that retained their reason and could think.
And Blood Ghosts, mindless husks driven solely by thirst for blood after their souls had fled.
The truly dangerous ones were the former. They hid among the living, concealing their identities, infecting others one by one with the Blood Thread Worm.
They were hard to detect, and if you missed your chance, the entire group could turn into a revenant horde in no time.
That was why those familiar with revenants called the intelligent ones the true revenants.
Ordinary folk, on the other hand, feared Blood Ghosts more. Or rather, they believed Blood Ghosts were the only kind of revenants out there, since most had never laid eyes on a true one.
It was only natural—they knew that getting bitten by a Blood Ghost meant your corpse would rise again after some time.
Especially horrifying were the ones where flesh had rotted away and maggots writhed in their eye sockets; the sight chilled the blood of any who beheld it.
For Seo Baek, dealing with Blood Ghosts was the easier task.
Control your breathing, your expression, the scent of your blood.
Master those three, and Blood Ghosts wouldn't sense a living person nearby. Stealth was entirely feasible.
But as with all things in the world, it depended on the situation.
Even the visible Blood Ghosts numbered in the hundreds.
Who knew how many more lurked beyond the fog.
This was no simple matter.
Yet the greater the crisis, the sharper Seo Baek's focus became.
With his signature impassive gaze, he observed the revenants' movements.
Back in the Jegal clan's underground revenant den, the ones controlled by Jegal Hyeok's sorcery had moved in rigid patterns.
These, however, were chaos incarnate—no rules, no order whatsoever.
Hide the breathing and expression, and it shouldn't matter.
Seo Baek stepped lightly in his footwork, weaving past the revenants.
Their appearances varied wildly.
Some had flesh sloughing off in decay; others, freshly turned, looked almost human save for their vacant stares.
Then he spotted one revenant grasping another's hand as they shuffled along.
A mother—still recognizable as such from life—clung tightly to the hand of a little girl, no more than ten years old perhaps, stumbling forward.
Seeing a child in the prime of her youth reduced to this stirred an inexplicable sorrow in him.
At that moment, the girl whipped her head around.
Her eyes met Seo Baek's.
...
He'd felt a pang of sadness just now, but not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. Endless training at Shika Manor had drilled that out of him.
Yet something was off about the girl's gaze.
Strange. Could it be?
Suddenly, she sniffed the air, curling her lips like a wolf to bare her fangs.
Grrrrrr.
His breathing was held, expression masked.
That left only one possibility.
Blood scent.
Where is it?
Seo Baek focused on sensations across his body—limbs, torso. Then he pinpointed a stinging ache.
His right side.
During the crash against the cliff face and slide with his sword embedded, his ribs had bruised, forming a deep contusion.
In the heat of his desperate gamble, he'd overlooked it.
But moving with the bruise and torn flesh had caused blood to seep out.
A Blood Ghost wouldn't miss that.
Kieeeek!
The girl flung her jaw wide and lunged. Seo Baek swung his sword without hesitation.
Whoosh. Slash.
The blade severed her neck and one wrist clean off.
Instantly, surrounding revenants turned toward him in eerie unison, as if on cue.
Snap!
Found out.
Now it was down to two choices: cut them all down, or get bitten and join them.
Seo Baek had zero interest in the latter.
Then, the severed wrist—from the revenant he'd just beheaded—began to twitch. Bare bones flexed; only the index finger stood straight, others folded, pointing directly at him.
A soulless Blood Ghost's finger accusing the living...
"Ridiculous."
Seo Baek chuckled dryly. No point hiding emotions now that the blood scent had given him away.
"Pointing fingers at a stranger? Manners are sorely lacking."
Kieeeek!
Hundreds of Blood Ghosts surged toward him from all sides.
Song Hyeon's group followed Jin-mun down the plank road.
Hopping across the precarious bridge like stepping stones wore on body and mind. The thick fog obscured the next stretch, piling on the fatigue.
And one slip meant plummeting into the revenant horde below...
Song Hyeon, Joo Eun-ri, and Jin-mun navigated it effortlessly, but Wang Yi Sam—who'd spent his life honing outer arts while neglecting lightness skill—broke a real sweat.
How far had they traversed the makeshift path?
Finally, solid ground emerged from the fog ahead.
Wang Yi Sam rolled up his sleeves, ready to leap down.
"Hold up, junior brother. We're almost there."
Song Hyeon called him back.
"Wait."
"What's up?"
"Jumping down blind could get us swarmed."
"You see your junior brother right there—are you saying we just watch?!"
Wang Yi Sam snapped, and Jin-mun interjected with an explanation.
"Senior Brother Song is right. The revenants around Song Mountain outnumber imagination. Get caught in one horde, and you'll be buried under thousands—no, tens of thousands."
...
Jin-mun's words made the dire state of Song Mountain Shaolin Temple hit home; Wang Yi Sam swallowed hard.
Tens of thousands of revenants.
Not just for commoners—even martial artists rarely witnessed such numbers in life.
Thousands appeared at inter-sect alliances or Shaolin-hosted murim conferences.
But tens of thousands? Impossible without war between nations. Even all Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families combined might not muster that many.
Song Hyeon slipped a hand into his robe.
"The more urgent the situation, the more thorough the preparation."
Wang Yi Sam wondered what he'd pull out.
It was a worn, shabby book.
"A book? You boasted big, and this is your 'preparation'?"
Wang Yi Sam gaped, but Song Hyeon ignored him, turning to Jin-mun.
"I have a favor to ask of Shaolin."
"Speak."
"This is a copy of the Black Wolf Secret Book. Permit its use."
Everyone froze at his words.
Joo Eun-ri had protected Yongjeong Inn from revenants thanks to talisman secrets from the Black Wolf Secret Book, passed on by Pyeon Bok Teacher.
Song Hyeon was the one who'd told them that.
He'd also claimed to be the one who found it at Black Wolf Castle.
Now suddenly producing a copy from his robe? No wonder they were stunned.
"I've heard of Senior Brother Song's renown from the Abbot. But how did you obtain a copy from Shaolin's Janggyeong Pavilion?"
Jin-mun's tone was calm, but thorns laced his words.
His glare was ferocious, tiger-like; even onlookers Wang Yi Sam and Joo Eun-ri flinched. A non-martial artist would've wet themselves.
His intent was obvious, even to Wang Yi Sam.
Janggyeong Pavilion is one of Shaolin's three secret vaults, right? Did he steal a manual from there?
Shaolin's famed three secret places were:
Nahan Hall, home of the 18 Arhats; Geumgang Vault, storing rare weapons; and Janggyeong Pavilion, where Shaolin monks studied and recorded not just their own arts but those of every murim sect.
Even an 18 Arhat couldn't access Janggyeong Pavilion's manuals without the Abbot's permission.
Song Hyeon producing one now? Jin-mun's suspicion was warranted.
Song Hyeon explained impassively.
"This copy came from the Jegal clan."
He detailed how he'd acquired it, adding a guess that Jegal Seong might've given it to his brother Jegal Hyeok.
But he withheld his true suspicion.
That a Murim Alliance elder had leaked it to Jegal Hyeok.
No need to tell Jin-mun yet.
Shaolin would need to root out Murim Alliance traitors first.
He didn't suspect Jin-mun, but fewer knowing a secret was always better.
Too many mouths, and rumors spread.
Jin-mun nodded, seemingly satisfied.
"Understood. So, you mean to use the Black Wolf Secret Book..."
"Lady Joo here will study it and craft talismans to repel revenants."
Song Hyeon handed the copy to Joo Eun-ri.
She accepted it with haughty poise, flipping it open at random and skimming.
But her eyes soon gleamed like candle flames in the dark.
"Talismans against revenants."
She played it cool, but her excitement was obvious even to a child.
"No wonder that mustache Taoist had such skills. It was all here."
Sensing her thrill, Chorang poked its head from her sleeve and barked kyang!
"Ho, so this is possible? Let's see, what's this? A talisman to lure revenants? Incredible. Truly incredible. To think such a treasure exists in the world—Shaolin's Janggyeong Pavilion lives up to its fame."
Wang Yi Sam watched her, thinking:
Whoa, look at her light up. Like she owns the world. And it ain't even hers.
At his incredulous stare, Joo Eun-ri schooled her face back to arrogance.
"Well, I suppose I can whip up a few talismans."
Wang Yi Sam was floored.
Check out that poker face...
The mercenary swordsman who'd gambled away fat paydays recognized it instantly—the look of someone feigning nonchalance after drawing a killer hand.
Joo Eun-ri selected a wide stone step and set up shop.
The group shifted to nearby steps to give her space, watching.
Song Hyeon cautioned her, lest excitement make her forget the peril.
"Time's short. Just the essentials."
"Got it."
From her spacious robe, she produced a leather pouch of blood ink for talismans, a bundle of paper, and three brushes.
Wang Yi Sam gawked anew as the items kept coming.
"What, you heading to market? All that crammed in your clothes?"
"Ever-prepared means no regrets later. The unlearned can't grasp that."
"Grr..."
Her invocation of "ever-prepared, no regrets" shut him up—Yubi muhwan was a creed cherished by his prized junior, Seo Baek...
Did she know?
Joo Eun-ri dipped her brush in the blood ink pouch and drew with bold strokes.
Strange runes bloomed on the paper pinned to the stone.