Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: The Solitude Curse
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He rummaged through the limp corpse's pockets, but there was nothing to identify the man.
Won-yeong, who had dealt with the enemy on the opposite side and returned, had come up empty-handed as well. She shook her head slowly and spoke.
"Total bust. These guys were infected with the solitude curse too."
"Same here."
"So, what's up with that? It's just too suspicious."
Won-yeong frowned, stomping on a wriggling worm on the ground as she spat it out.
"Even if assassins are weaklings, vile, and ignorant of basic human decency, they don't casually use something like the solitude curse on their comrades or subordinates."
"......"
"Why are you looking at me like that? It's the truth. Anyway, that's the kind of stunt you'd expect from bottom-feeders like the White Lotus Cult."
"You think the Phantom Sword Society's leadership has already been taken over?"
Won-yeong nodded.
"Even if the Society Lord hasn't been replaced, the White Lotus Cult's influence has definitely grown stronger."
It was a reasonable deduction. Assassins rarely abandoned their comrades or underlings.
Not out of some naive sentimentality, but for more practical reasons.
Training a single assassin cost a fortune—comparable to raising a top-tier expert.
They needed skills in infiltration, deceptive rhetoric, lethal killing techniques, and evasion to shake off pursuers. Even the lowliest grunt.
And above all, hardly anyone volunteered to become an assassin.
Even villains who lived by the law of the jungle preferred freer black path sects. Securing and training manpower was always a challenge compared to regular sects.
Demonic cults versed in sorcery were different. Their sinister arts usually demanded sacrifices for power, so they didn't care about the lives of mere foot soldiers.
Won-yeong muttered.
"In any case, if someone made it this far undetected... We have no idea how far the Phantom Sword Society's reach extends."
"But it's strange."
"What is?"
Yuk Jin-yang looked up and scanned the surroundings.
"If they awakened the solitude curse themselves, fine. But otherwise, there should be someone nearby who can trigger its effects, right?"
"No way?"
Won-yeong whipped her head around. Her sky-blue eyes darted about.
Suddenly, a black hill mynah caught their sight. It was moving at impossible speed—not the flight of any natural bird.
Too late to chase with lightness skill.
'Have to shoot it down.'
Yuk Jin-yang kicked up a crossbow bolt from the ground. At the same time, he drew Cheong-ram and swung. The bolt struck the flat of the blade and rocketed off in a white trail, piercing the mynah's wing. It happened in an instant.
The two leaped from the roof toward where the bird had fallen. The mynah rolled pitifully on the ground, one wing mangled.
It lifted its head to meet their gazes, then clacked its beak loudly. The sound that emerged was not a beast's cry, but a human voice.
—You two are amusing.
The mynah's eyes gleamed red. Not natural, but a sign that sinister power had stolen its intelligence.
—Blue eyes. No chill of the Ice Palace, features not of the Red Haired People. And wearing an imperial envoy's robe? What an odd mix.
"Beats me. Is a bird that speaks human words in any position to talk about odd mixes?"
—But we are not ignorant of history. Your blue eyes remind me of something. In the late Han, there was a certain house. The illustrious Yeonam Won Clan, holding the Three Excellencies for generations.
The words flowing from the mynah carried a bewitching power, like the ravings of a sorcerer.
—Yet they summoned the yokai Dosak Army from the north. They consorted with the demon and begot offspring, spreading its bloodline to scheme for the throne in future generations.
Won-yeong's face hardened. She slammed her halberd toward the ground. But the mynah easily dodged the blade and took to the air. Its wing had already regrown.
The mynah clacked its beak again.
—Thus was born Yuan Shao, traitor and warlord of the late Han, with his majestic bearing. He inherited Dosak Army's blood, born with white hair and blue eyes. Surely your blue eyes come from him.
"And you reek of the White Lotus Cult. Abuse sinister sorcery too much, and you devolve into a mere beast?"
Won-yeong retorted with a smirk. She seemed to smile, but suppressed fury simmered beneath.
The mynah let out a bizarre cry, oddly reminiscent of mocking laughter.
—The man beside you is equally strange. His soul and body clash like mismatched partners— no different from a corpse ghost. Like a short life forcibly stretched out.
This time, it was Yuk Jin-yang's face that stiffened.
—Yet stranger still. The body yielding to a foreign soul. Did you devour your kin to take his flesh?
"I've heard enough."
Yuk Jin-yang drew Cheong-ram from his waist and hurled it. A blue flash tore through the air, decapitating the mynah in one stroke. Sparks flew from the severed neck, reacting to the sword's spiritual energy.
The mynah regenerated no more.
A vast cavern lined with torches.
"Wielding the mystical energy on his sword. Beyond the Yeonam Won daughter, another intriguing one."
The man shook his head and tossed the object in his hand to the ground. It was a straw decoration shaped like a bird, its head severed and body charred black.
Thud.
The sound of footsteps snapped him alert. He turned at the approaching presence. A burly, masked warrior glared at him.
The man's name was Gong Son-an—the true identity of the infamous Phantom Sword Society Lord.
"Sent a spirit beast to spy, eh? Did it go smoothly?"
"So-so. Not much payoff."
"Then my men died pointless deaths again?"
His indifferent tone hid a dagger-sharp intent. Murderous glare leaked from his eyes. With no reply, the Society Lord continued.
"Six dead. All personally trained by me. Elites useful for the coming decisive battle, squandered like that?"
"Do assassins cling to personal sentiments?"
"I'm not talking grudges—I'm talking profit. Only fools think only the righteous spare their men. You value subordinates because it's efficient, not out of affection."
"Profit and efficiency."
The man muttered briefly and fully turned.
Suddenly, his shadow swelled grotesquely. The torchlight dimmed and muddied. An otherworldly aura began overtaking the surroundings. Even the Society Lord shuddered involuntarily.
The man smiled softly.
"If you're curious, ask. When have I ever hidden the full plan from you?"
"Why trigger the solitude curses in my men? Why rouse their vigilance? We still have days until the planned showdown."
"Precisely for that. To make those huddled rats sense crisis and come charging out."
The man replied smoothly, then added a question.
"Besides, we already agreed on the solitude curses."
"True. When I sought your aid, that was your condition—implanting them in my assassins."
The Society Lord grimaced, as if the thought alone made his teeth grind.
Right after formation, the Phantom Sword Society's might had pierced the heavens. It crushed rebellious assassin gates under its banner, absorbing them, and its fame spread across Sichuan.
Given more time, it might have dominated the southwest and reshaped the black path martial world.
But the surprise raid by the Super King Clan derailed everything. Their base burned, suffering crippling losses.
Without that, there'd have been no need for this humiliating pact with a demonic cultist.
"But you've never explained why."
"Ah, right. They'll nourish the grand ritual."
"Nourish the grand ritual? Mere sacrificial pawns?"
The blunt words made the Society Lord's brow twitch.
The White Lotus Cult's Sichuan branch head—known as the Not Vulgar Man—ignored it and shifted topics.
"Do you know the origin of 'common folk'?"
"What the—? Answer straight. What meaning did their deaths have?"
Despite the bark, the Not Vulgar Man recited the old tale like a song.
"The Shang distinguished 'person' from 'folk.' To them, nobles were 'scholars'—true persons—while commoners were slaves."
"So?"
"They gouged out commoners' eyes for easier sacrifice to ancestors and heaven. Thus, 'cut' + 'eye' birthed the word 'folk'."
The Society Lord bared his teeth.
"If you're just gonna spout dusty legends, I'll send you to join those corpses with this blade."
"Here's the key. Their acts weren't futile. Appeasing heaven is inherently prayer and equivalent exchange. So, doesn't it beg the question? Did their ancestral spirits not reward descendants for countless lives offered?"
"......There's a saying: Human sacrifice brings calamity; even burying clay figures severs your line."
The Not Vulgar Man burst into laughter.
"Confucius! Even an assassin like you knows such drivel? Straight from the scriptures beloved by lofty scholars."
"You bastard."
The Society Lord gripped his sword hilt. A killing intent surged, ready to draw and swing.
The Not Vulgar Man pressed on undeterred.
"Change perspective. Why did Spring and Autumn lords bury valuable retainers and soldiers alive?"
"......"
"To summon their enshrined ancestors back to the mortal realm. An outrage Confucius, admirer of Zhou conquerors, couldn't stomach."
The Society Lord recoiled, countering.
"Human sacrifice was a revival rite?"
"Exactly! Your ancestor was the peerless assassin Gong Son-sul, no? Foe of Emperor Guangwu. If we could summon that ancient supreme expert here, wouldn't petty sacrifices be worth it?"
Gong Son-sul, supreme assassin of the late New Dynasty to early Han.
A warlord who seized Sichuan and claimed emperorship, repeatedly delaying unification by assassinating Guangwu's generals.
His end was gruesome: body devoured by birds, no tomb allowed, rites forbidden, descendants forced to change surnames.
Yet his infamy endured; Phantom Sword assassins still revered him as grand master.
The Society Lord's voice trembled as he asked again.
"Is it truly possible?"
"Of course. Just wait. Their deaths will nourish a grand bloom. A beautiful white lotus."
The White Lotus Cult's Not Vulgar Man gazed ecstatically at the cavern ceiling, where an unfinished white lotus painting adorned it.
"Countless souls are already gathering here. Not long now. When that lotus fully blooms, the ancient master will open his eyes."