The Approaching Black Thunder
Splat!
The black centipede’s blood sprayed in every direction. White smoke rose as it ate into the martial robes. The garments Yun Hyeon had specially crafted—resistant to poison and heat—held up far better than expected even against the fiercely acidic blood.
“Moyong Bi, how dare you kick this lady…!”
Seol Ye-rin, sprawled on the ground, flared up in fury—then trailed off the moment she saw me standing between her and the threat.
“…You blocked it for me?”
“…”
I straightened my stance. Ahead lay Chu Ryung-tae, his head and entire upper body blown apart as if detonated from within. From the ruptured cross-section, half-burst small insects poured out in a writhing mass, shoving aside fragments of the corpse.
Woong.
A black dog rose from my shadow. It slipped like smoke into the shadow of the headless Chu Ryung-tae and began sniffing here and there, searching for something.
“It’s the scent of the White Lotus Demon Sect.”
I had expected as much the moment Mumyeong approached the corpse. The nightmare of the Demon Sect showed interest in nothing beyond its own survival—except that one thing.
Seol Ye-rin spoke.
“This is clearly the remnant of the Explosive Sound Poison Centipede used only in the old days of the previous generations of the Jianghu…. Why would traces of those old martial artists—trained to react to the cadence of specific words—appear here?”
“He must have blurted out information he wanted to keep all to himself, and it triggered by accident.”
I drew a deep breath.
“In short, the information Chu Ryung-tae spoke just before dying is valuable enough that it had to be silenced by murder and erasure.”
Chu Ryung-tae had clearly died with his head exploding the instant he uttered the words “legacy of the White Lotus Demon Sect.” According to him, a clue to that legacy—sleeping somewhere in this frozen land—lay in the jade ring worn by the eldest son as the heirloom of the Wiji Clan.
There was nothing to deliberate. I looked at Seol Ye-rin.
“I don’t care about the affairs of the Jianghu, but…”
I hesitated for a moment. Then I made my decision.
“That group under Dokgo Cheon—the ones heading toward the Second Hall Master of the Blood Sect, Taejacheon, after kidnapping the eldest son of the Wiji Clan. Any idea where they might be going right now?”
Seol Ye-rin’s face lit up.
“…That means!”
I nodded.
“It seems the Second Hall Master of the Blood Sect, Taejacheon, and I want the same thing.”
“This… fucking shit. Dog-like…”
Dokgo Cheon spat blood.
Hah… hah… hah…
In front of him stood a man wearing a boar’s mask, his upper body bare and gleaming. Around his thick neck hung a necklace of boar tusks strung in a neat row. In his hand was a dagger whose blade curved with elegant grace. That curved blade was buried in Dokgo Cheon’s heart.
Dokgo Cheon spoke in a voice thick with resentment.
“That’s why I never wanted to join hands with those beast-like Blood Sect bastards, no matter how much Lord Moyong Jinryong guaranteed it…”
“Oh my, listen to the way you talk.”
A mocking chuckle, thick with scorn, drifted out from beneath the boar mask.
“A hunting dog should act like a hunting dog and quietly drag the hostage as its master orders. Why go and covet the master’s belongings midway… hmm?”
Crunch.
With the sound of ribs shattering, the dagger drove deeper into Dokgo Cheon’s chest. His eyes flew wide.
“Keuk!”
“That’s why rootless unorthodox bastards can never be trusted—if only for their sticky fingers.”
Clatter.
From Dokgo Cheon’s limp hand, the jade ring stamped with the Wiji Clan’s seal tumbled free. Blood from his split heart ran down his wrist and soaked his fingertips. It gathered in beads on his nails and dripped. It fell onto the jade ring. The ring resonated faintly with the blood, trembling, then slowly sank once more into the sticky crimson.
Dokgo Cheon whispered, almost without strength.
“White Lotus Demon Sect…. So the rumor that this jade ring is connected to the White Lotus Demon Sect was true. I thought there had to be something—Second Hall Master Taejacheon was pressing so hard with carrier pigeons.”
“…”
The boar mask spoke.
“Yeah. You’ve finished your role as a hunting dog, so just die already.”
“You… you son of a bitch. Shall I give you one piece of advice…”
Dokgo Cheon’s trembling hand slowly rose. The boar mask tilted its head.
“Advice? From a dog?”
“Since you’ve also learned—unintentionally—that this ring is tied to the White Lotus Demon Sect because of this—”
Dokgo Cheon’s hand seized the boar mask. He grinned, baring blood-soaked white teeth.
“The moment you arrive, you’ll be discarded and killed by your master just like me. Better prepare yourself.”
“Hmm.”
The boar mask answered indifferently.
“Is that so? That’s a bit of a shame. I can’t live up to a dying man’s expectations.”
Dokgo Cheon froze.
“…What?”
Grab.
The man clasped the hand gripping his mask and pulled.
Whoosh!
The boar mask came free. Beneath it was a man with pale, razor-sharp eyes that blazed with ferocious light, and long white hair.
“I don’t have the bad habit of killing myself with my own hands, you see.”
“…You… you’re Taejacheon!”
Dokgo Cheon’s eyes flooded with shock. But only for a moment—his gaze rapidly lost its light. Taejacheon did not pull the dagger from the heart, yet the blood flowing steadily along the blood groove of the curved blade had already pooled so deeply that the two figures were reflected symmetrically in its surface.
Dokgo Cheon began to laugh weakly.
“…Shit. Life is pure dogshit. Couldn’t even avenge my brother, and now like this—”
Watching him with a bored expression, Taejacheon spoke coldly.
“Die already.”
He yanked the dagger free.
Pwah!
Blood erupted more than two spans high. Dokgo Cheon toppled backward. The Second Hall Master, as if he had already lost all interest, bent down and picked up the ring. He turned.
This place bordered the frozen wastes. A barren world of dry, frozen sand stretched in every direction. Cold air descending from the north met the scorching winds rising from the Central Plains desert and neutralized into something neither fully hot nor cold.
A land without a single blade of grass, without a single drop of moisture. A hellish world empty of beast or insect. In the sky hung a pale, blazing red sun. Beneath it stood hundreds of men wearing beast masks, accompanied by hundreds of horses. In their hands they held cavalry weapons smeared with various beast bloods and bristling with spikes. They stood utterly motionless, not even breathing, and watched him.
In front of them trembled the eldest son of the Wiji Clan, Wi Ryong-ha, shaking like an aspen leaf.
“Sa… sa… save me. Blood Sect lords. I didn’t see anything…!”
“Oh my, our precious guest from the Central Plains seems to have many misunderstandings.”
Taejacheon smiled in a slow circle. He flicked the bloodied dagger through the air with casual snaps of the wrist and approached Wi Ryong-ha.
“People say all sorts of things about the Blood Sect.”
“Y-yes?”
Walking forward, Taejacheon continued.
“Especially the closer you get to the Central Plains. That the Blood Sect sacrifices people to grow stronger, that they value human lives less than ants, that they only follow their instincts… all manner of claims. Listening quietly, it’s truly outrageous.”
He stopped in front of Wi Ryong-ha and looked down at him with idle curiosity.
“Do you think so too?”
“Th… th… that is…”
Taejacheon crooked a finger at him.
“Hold out your hand.”
“Huk…!”
Wi Ryong-ha, terrified, refused to extend it. The surrounding Blood Sect members in beast masks closed in, seized his hand by force, and thrust it forward. He struggled and resisted. Resistance was meaningless. Wi Ryong-ha’s pale hand was shoved out. With a face drained of all color he screamed madly.
“Ah, no… no! My hand! Don’t cut my hand—!”
Click.
The jade ring slid back onto Wi Ryong-ha’s finger.
“…Huh?”
“It’s more comfortable for the owner to keep the owner’s belongings, don’t you think?”
The Blood Sect members released him. Wi Ryong-ha stared at his freed hand. Looking at the fingers that had not been severed anywhere, he muttered blankly.
“…The ring… you returned it?”
Taejacheon nodded. Wi Ryong-ha’s face brightened.
“Th-then… are you letting me go as well?”
Taejacheon said nothing. The hundreds of Blood Sect members surrounding him also remained silent. Wi Ryong-ha looked around anxiously.
“Ah, no. Why is everyone so quiet…. You returned our family heirloom, the jade ring, didn’t you? You’re different from those lowly unorthodox bastards who only covet wealth… aren’t you?”
“You seem to be mistaken.”
Taejacheon squatted in front of him and gazed at the sand. His dull grayish-white long hair slid down, veiling his vision. He brushed it back and looked at Wi Ryong-ha.
“To us, you’re nothing more than a human pig that already belongs to us—who happens to serve as a convenient storage box for the ring. Understand?”
“…What?”
The surrounding Blood Sect martial artists began to close in. Wi Ryong-ha sprang up and tried to back away.
Thud.
His head already struck the chest of a Blood Sect member blocking the rear. Wi Ryong-ha cried out in terror.
“D-don’t joke around! Didn’t you just say that those claims about the Blood Sect—sacrificing people, valuing lives less than ants—are outrageous?!”
“Ahh, very outrageous. Extremely so!”
Taejacheon bared his teeth.
“How do those Central Plains bastards who’ve never even seen us know so accurately! Kids, tie him up.”
The Blood Sect members bowed their heads as one.
“We receive your command, Second Hall Master.”
“-!”
In an instant the upper garment was torn from Wi Ryong-ha’s plump, fat body. Hands and legs were bound. A gag was forced into his mouth. Both eyes were covered. A massive Blood Sect member brought a long pole. Wi Ryong-ha was lashed to it like a banner and hoisted high into the air.
“Uup! Uuuup!”
Wi Ryong-ha wailed in terror around the gag. At the sight, Taejacheon laughed as if his face would split and shouted.
“It’s been far too long since we had a fresh martial artist from a great family who cultivated righteous energy! There’s a mountain of things to test while we brainwash him—perfect! Let’s hurry back…!”
“…You think that will go as you please.”
Taejacheon stopped mid-sentence. Frowning, he looked back. Behind him, Dokgo Cheon was now fully dying.
Taejacheon said,
“Your life is quite tenacious. Is it because you’re an unorthodox rat who’s only ever crawled the bottom, or because I was too merciful and simply pierced you cleanly through?”
“I… I never thought I’d say something like this, but…”
Dokgo Cheon forced the words out one by one.
“The one who tore my brother and dozens of my subordinates apart with bare hands…”
He coughed.
“That monstrous bastard they call the Slaughterer of Liaoning will come looking for us soon…. According to the last report, some madman was slaughtering the rear guard in a frenzy while chasing us…”
“…Slaughterer of Liaoning?”
Taejacheon frowned. Watching him, the fallen unorthodox martial artist chuckled weakly.
“Yeah. That monster who’s my brother’s enemy. It’s a regret I couldn’t kill him with my own hands, but it doesn’t matter now. Since that guy seems to be no ordinary monster either… go ahead and…”
With the last of his strength Dokgo Cheon glared at the Second Hall Master of the Blood Sect and roared.
“You or that bastard—tear each other apart until you both die, you chewable madman bast—!!”
Bang!!
A blue finger wind punched straight through Dokgo Cheon’s brow. Without leaving even a single scream, he died instantly.
“…Slaughterer?”
Taejacheon muttered, still frowning.
“Something familiar. Was it the Sixth Hall Master… or the Seventh… who always sang songs with a similar word…”
“Hall Master, preparations are complete.”
In front of him, a vast host waited astride demonic horses. At their head, Wi Ryong-ha—gagged and bound to the pole—was held aloft like a banner.
“…Good. Since he’s coming anyway.”
Taejacheon turned. As he walked toward his horse, the corner of his mouth curled upward.
“Let’s see who’s madder.”
With clouds of red sand dust, the cavalry thundered into motion. Where they had stood, only the miserably dead corpse of Dokgo Cheon and the scattered bodies of his subordinates remained.
A short while passed. One full shichen passed. Beneath the dry wind the scorching sun began to dry and rot everything. Crows started to gather. The wind began to rise.
And then—
Boom.
Far in the distance, black thunder split the blue sky, and a massive aftershock came racing madly toward them.