The Winner's Quarters
From the moment a match ended, the Dark Tournament made a stark distinction between winner and loser.
The victor was guided amid the cheers and congratulations of those who had won their bets to lavishly prepared quarters reserved for winners alone.
The defeated, cursed and spat upon by those who had lost their money, were seized by the arms by guards and dragged off like so much luggage.
Gwak Ido, who had stolen his sect's secret manuals fully prepared to be expelled for it, was left in despair at the sheer absurdity of having those hard-won arts crushed so thoroughly. Eyes unfocused, he offered not even a token of resistance as he was hauled away by both arms.
"Young Master, this way. I am Yulhui. I have been assigned to attend you for the remainder of the tournament."
A slender maidservant bowed politely as I descended from the arena platform and guided me onward.
"You may rest and recover in the lodgings we have specially prepared for you, Young Master, and wait there until your next match."
Behind me, the endless shouts and screams of life-and-death duels still echoed faintly through the air.
"Lodgings?"
"Yes. Having passed the preliminaries, you are now officially recognized as one of the fighters who will grace our Dark Tournament. We must treat you accordingly. There is a dedicated space for the participants."
I waved my hands hurriedly.
"Ah, I already have companions, so I don't really need a separate place to stay…"
A thought flashed through my mind like lightning.
"…Though looking once wouldn't hurt."
An annex stood beside the three-story temple that housed the arena. I followed the narrow path leading toward it.
I kept reminding myself that simply participating in the tournament with a peaceful mind was not my purpose here. For me, it was crucial to learn the terrain and structure of this place while drawing as little suspicion as possible. Being guided by a maidservant, free to explore one corner of the layout without anyone looking twice — this was clearly an opportunity that would serve me well.
The underground cavern was so vast that even this area, which had to be subterranean, felt like walking outdoors. Insect chirps even drifted on the air. Through scattered holes in the ceiling, starlight and the full moon were faintly visible.
So the night has already grown deep.
Being underground, I hadn't noticed the passage of time.
The entire annex was a single lodging complex.
"This annex is completely soundproofed. It consists of guest rooms for our visitors."
"And below…?"
I had spotted a stone staircase leading down beneath the annex. I asked in a tone of mere passing curiosity. They hadn't gone out of their way to hide it, but the stairs were shabby and half-concealed by thick undergrowth; one could easily have walked past without noticing.
"That leads to a basement through which the waterworks supplying all the living water for the Jeolhae Branch run. There is also a brewery."
"…"
Night wind swept in through the holes in the cavern ceiling, rustling willow leaves with a sound like flowing water.
"A moment — my shoe is loose."
I sat down where I stood and fussed with my footwear. Then I rose and followed the maid again.
In my hand were three gray-white pebbles, each no larger than a little fingernail.
My thumb flicked them one after another — phut, phut, phut — leaving white scrapes on the staircase down to the basement and along the edge of the path.
Twenty-seven… twenty-eight…
I began counting my strides.
She had said there were only waterworks and a brewery, but I couldn't be certain. According to So Yeomgyo, the Nameless Hundred-Eight Seven-Night Rite, by its nature, had to be performed in an underground space that admitted not even a sliver of sunlight. This vast cavern received light through the holes in its ceiling, so it couldn't be here. The great temple where the matches were being held wasn't suitable either. That left a still deeper underground space — I would have to search it out methodically.
So Yeomgyo would be conducting her own investigation of the Jeolhae Branch as an honored guest, but I had resolved to do everything I could from my own position as well.
Locate the site of the Nameless Hundred-Eight Seven-Night Rite — the sorcery that would birth a Guardian of the Blood Sect by sacrificing one hundred and eight children as offerings — and stop it before it could begin. Advance step by step toward victory in the tournament, my final insurance that would grant me a private audience with the head of the Jeolhae Branch, while continuing every effort that might uncover where the ritual was being performed. That was the rational course.
"These are the quarters assigned to you, Young Master."
The room I was shown into was lavish. A massive bed hung with red curtains. A tiger skin spread across the floor. Countless ink paintings and porcelain pieces adorned the space.
"To the right you will find everything prepared for washing. Bedding, side dishes, and liquor have all been laid out as well. As the Jeolhae Branch of Unwol Jiju — which handles pleasure and entertainment throughout Shaanxi — we will provide our participants with the finest hospitality no matter what you desire. Please make yourself completely at ease."
The faint scent of incense candles drifting from one corner of the room made the back of my neck grow warm. Silk hangings stirred along the open doorway with a sound like the brush of a sleeve. Red light and the yellow glow of candle flames cast shadows that filled the room.
"Young Master, is there anything further you require before the night grows deeper?"
Yulhui, the maid who had introduced herself, asked in a soft, yielding voice.
I had already achieved my immediate purpose. Leaving at once, though, would only invite suspicion. I decided to make a few reasonable requests, then withdraw under a suitable excuse.
I considered what I actually needed. Suddenly my left hand, visible at the lower edge of my vision, caught my eye.
"A basin of water, if you would."
"Water? Yes, of course."
The maid lit a candle and slipped quietly out. Moments later she returned with a basin of water, set it carefully on the table, and sat facing me.
The candle flame wavered. In one corner, an incense stick released a violet fragrance that slowly filled the air. The bedding beneath me rustled at the slightest movement. The flickering candle cast the swaying shadows of a man and a woman across the room.
Yulhui clasped her hands and spoke.
"Shall I prepare right away, then, Young Master?"
"…Prepare what?"
The maid simply looked at me. The candle flame flickered. One of her shoulders dipped slightly, then she composed herself again.
"…"
"…"
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Well. This is the underworld. I suppose it was only natural.
Pressing a hand to my faintly throbbing head, I pointed silently at the door.
"Leave. You're a distraction. I'll call if I need anything."
"…Pardon? If I am not to your liking, Young Master—"
I pointed at the door again without a word. The maid bowed her head quietly.
"Understood. Forgive me for troubling you with an unfortunate misunderstanding, Young Master."
She bowed, closed the door, and left.
"…So that shout about growing up was for real…"
A muttered fragment reached me as the door shut. I felt a surge of irritation, but held it in. The door closed. I stared at it for a while.
"…She was pretty, though."
I was about to praise you for growing — until that last remark.
I let out a small sigh and held out my left hand, still sheathed in the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap.
"I have grown a lot, though. I can even tell a woman who matches my type to leave. Who would have thought the special training with Eun Seollyeong and So Yeomgyo would help in this way."
Are you referring to the past when you slept on the bed with your hands clasped in an unmoving posture, staring only at the ceiling? Though it isn't even the past. It was still ongoing until very recently.
I frowned.
"You don't need to spell it out. I know without you saying it."
You bragged about it so proudly to Gwak Ido that I thought it was something the Host was proud of.
I opened my mouth a few times, then shut it. Saying more would feel like admitting defeat. I sighed and scratched my head.
"Well, it is an embarrassing past. Talking about women just brought it back."
I groped through the fog of my mind. Like an old man with dementia recalling the distant past, I spoke while tracing the memory.
"Back when I was crawling through the bottom of the capital, begging for instruction… I could barely keep food in my mouth, but I still had enough vanity as a man. There was an oil merchant in the capital, I think. He had a second daughter, and she was exactly to my liking. I was cutting and delivering firewood for a charcoal seller just to scrape by at the time, and I used to take detours I didn't need just for a chance to see her."
Oh? The Host is sharing a story from his past. Unexpectedly rare.
Mumyeong let out a brief sound of interest.
"Is it?"
It is. I know the Host well, after all.
"Right. We know each other well."
In my mind, I still clearly remembered the words Mumyeong had muttered under his breath last time.
Reign Over All Under Heaven.
Tear them apart. Kill them.
In that moment, his voice had been filled with a fierce hatred for every faction of the orthodox, the demonic, the heretical, and the Blood Cult.
Two voices resounded within me. One was Mumyeong's. The other was a damp voice that seemed to rise from the bottom of an abyss, beginning whenever I chanted the true word Namsang Samadhi.
Compared to Mumyeong's flat, extremely restrained tone, that damp voice had been deeply gloomy, steeped in some lingering grudge. Until now I had assumed it belonged to the master of the Heavenly Demon Jade — the Heavenly Demon himself — and had feared and guarded against it. But the fury Mumyeong had shown, if only for an instant, had been of a different purity entirely.
If through Ryu Hwasa I had witnessed pure madness at its extreme, then in the moment Mumyeong cried Reign Over All Under Heaven, I had felt through him a rage so red-hot it had burned white — the absolute peak of wrath. And yet now, as if he were a different person from that moment, he was calmly listening to my story again and offering his own thoughts.
I pushed my thoughts about him to one side. Even if I worried over it, nothing would be resolved.
Mumyeong asked again.
So, with that girl you liked — did the Host at least honestly confess his feelings?
An interest from Mumyeong that was rare to see.
So, did she accept you? Host.
The candle flame wavered.
Were you happy, even for a little while?
"I don't know."
I flexed the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap with a creak of metal and gave a bitter smile.
"I liked her then, but I had no idea what to say to her. I even wondered if I should hand her something and confess. There was no one to ask. Haha. So do you know what ended up happening?"
…
Mumyeong gave no answer. It was the manner of someone who had been asked a deep question about martial arts and was carefully considering how to respond. It also felt a little like an older brother listening to the worries of a hopeless younger sibling.
The candle flame flickered. Against that light, my shadow crouched on the bed. Facing that shadow, sitting neatly with both paws together, was the shadow of a great black wild dog listening to the tale.
In the empty room, the two shadows talked quietly together.
…I tried thinking about what I would have done if I had been there. I don't know. I think I would have been very nervous. If I approached too hastily, she might have felt burdened or looked at me strangely. That would be frightening in its own way, I suppose.
"Ha."
I gave a short, incredulous laugh.
"You really are impossible to figure out. That was just a throwaway remark, and you went and thought about it that deeply? You, a martial artist of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult?"
If it had been anyone else, I would have let it go in one ear and out the other. But I know the Host would not simply speak of the past for no reason. No matter how lightly he said it. No matter how much he smiled and framed it as a joke.
This time I had nothing to say.
"…Anyway."
So what did you do? I still have not heard the answer.
Mumyeong pressed. I looked at the table. A bottle of liquor and a cup had been set out for the guest. Cold beads of dew clung to the bottle. One rolled free and fell.
"…I'll continue that story next time. Right now I have something I need to deal with first."
I pushed the liquor bottle aside, grabbed the water cup next to it, and drained it in several gulps.
Ah. Yes. I had forgotten.
Mumyeong spoke as if he had just recalled.
Having landed an unexpected big catch, inspecting the hook and line afterward is only natural procedure.
I submerged the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap in the water the maid had brought.
"In a case like this, it isn't just the line — the question is whether the rod itself is broken."
I muttered as I stared at the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap. From the water around the gauntlet came a soft hiss, and a faint steam rose.
"Hoo."
I drew my left hand from the water and held it up before my eyes. I moved the damp, gleaming iron fingers this way and that, examining them carefully.
Something cracked before my eyes, like a hairline fracture running through porcelain. Then another. Then a longer series of cracks.
"…"
I closed my eyes. Slowly I retraced my memories. I called up every childhood I could remember. Every recollection. Every humiliation.
A white, snow-covered field rose before me. My name. My mother. My origins. My mother's face as she froze to death. Myself clinging and begging for instruction. Being beaten in the marketplace. Spilling across the ground with a broken sword. One after another, the images surfaced.
…
As long as I still remembered all of this, I decided, I was still all right.
I clenched my fist tight.
Are you all right?
"Actually…"
I muttered quietly.
"I'm more unsettled by how little burden there is. Far less than I expected."
It cannot be that there is no burden. Just a moment ago—
I cut in.
"Even so, it was second-rate."
That it went so smoothly comes down to two factors.
Mumyeong said.
The first factor is something the Host himself must already understand better than anyone by now. When you copied the Nine Palaces Demon-Slaying Flash, Gwak Ido — who should have served as the original — was not a complete original. He himself had not properly mastered it. He had hastily memorized the entire manual and only just managed to realize the theory in practice — a hollow shell. That is why you were able to skip the entire stretch that normally overloads you by dragging in every mental image and experience, and why there was no pain.
Since absorbing the Guardian pearl of the Jeomchang Sect, the Heavenly Demon's signature power of copying had grown dramatically. Lesser arts that were not high-level techniques like the Nine Palaces Demon-Slaying Flash could now be copied and internalized simply by letting a quiet red light gather in my eyes, without even chanting the true word Namsang Samadhi. The process ran twice as fast, and the load was overwhelmingly lighter.
More than anything, the improved copying ability no longer so much copied a martial art as tore it free wholesale and made a rubbing of it — and in that process, it ripped away every experience and memory bound up in the art as well.
Even accounting for all of that, this copying of the Nine Palaces Demon-Slaying Flash had been in a different league from the usual.
I'm far too fine.
Even before absorbing the Jeomchang pearl, when I had copied the second-rate Blood Demon Four-Wheel Chain Sword, I had felt the vivid pain of my brain being ground down. Yet this time the Nine Palaces Demon-Slaying Flash had been far too easy for the stakes I had prepared myself for, and there had been no side effects of any kind.
Even when I copied Mount Hua's foundational Twenty-Four Forms of the Plum Blossom Sword, one edge of my mind had ached under the waterfall of Eun Seollyeong's memories pouring in. Through this copying process, Gwak Ido's experiences that surfaced in my head had been almost nonexistent. The only things that rose vividly were useless memories — the process of stealing the manual and memorizing it, drilling it by speed-reading, then burning and destroying the original.
Ordinarily it is self-evident that a martial art copied by the Host is inferior in quality to the original. In this case, however, the Nine Palaces Demon-Slaying Flash the Host performs will be incomparably more powerful than Gwak Ido's, and closer to the true original. Once you complete the internalization process, it will draw even nearer. For us, Heaven itself lent a hand. And in truth, the lesser side effects this time owe more to the second factor… This is something I have wanted to discuss with the Host for some time.
"The second factor?"
Mumyeong answered my question.
It concerns the Host's physical condition. Separate from the level of your martial arts, you already know that the Host's body is continuously transforming and metamorphosing from within, with the Heavenly Demon Jade as its foundation.
"Right."
The original plan of the sorcerer who first sought to bring about the complete descent of the Heavenly Demon through this jade was to force all three stages through in a single stroke. Now that entire process has become unstable and is advancing slowly, stage by stage. As it progresses, that may prove a good thing for the Host…
Mumyeong let the sentence trail off for a moment.
Or it may prove a very bad thing in many ways.
"…Which stage am I at now?"
Beyond the darkness, a hallucination of a wild dog writhing into view. The dog flicked its tail as if counting three fingers.
There are three stages in total.
First, the stage of Extreme Demon.
Second, the stage of Demon Escape.
Last, the stage of Demon Descent.
By consuming the Guardian pearl of the Jeomchang Sect, the Host's body has fully entered the stage of Extreme Demon. That is why the side effects of copying martial arts have lessened, and why your strength has increased.
Mumyeong paused a beat, then continued.
And your essence will grow a little more like that of the original master.
"I've been curious for a while, and now that some of your memories seem to have returned, I might as well ask."
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"We'll set aside that you still don't remember who you are. I'll let that go. But I'm not the green novice I used to be. I know a few things now. Just what is this Heavenly Demon Jade — or is it the real Heavenly Demon? Who is the one this jade is aiming at? How long do you plan to keep hiding it? You know by now, don't you?"
…
I wet my dry lips with my tongue and pressed on.
"Who is the specimen my body is trying to transform and metamorphose into? From everything so far, it doesn't seem to be the Heavenly Blood Demon — the founding cult leader of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult. Mara Jin? That unidentified existence even less so. So who the hell is it?"
…I am sorry, Host.
Mumyeong spoke quietly.
Whatever else may be uncertain, this is the truth. I truly do not remember. The last memory I can recall is only one.
Mumyeong murmured.
Being driven into a corner by everyone's spears and blades, looking left and right… and in the end…
Mumyeong drew a sharp breath.
The single scene of hanging myself by the neck. That is all.
"…"
Mumyeong muttered in a voice like grinding metal.
I am sorry. For not being able to answer.
He said it once more.
I am truly sorry.