Cracks in the Soul-Chasing Death Ghost

Bang So-un looked up from his book with a smirk as Jang Il tossed out his casual question. "What're you staring at like that?"

"Ah, there you are, Jang Il."

He closed the book and showed off the cover. Murim Serial Record.

"Murim Serial Record? Where'd you even get a book like that?"

"Where else? These things are floating around every street market out there."

Humans had an innate urge to rank everything, line 'em up in order. And when it came to strength—the raw appeal of power—it was even more primal. So it wasn't strange that enthusiasts compiled rankings of murim fighters' prowess into books. They even sold pretty well, which was why copies littered the markets.

But rankings varied wildly from book to book, so hardly anyone took them seriously as gospel truth. With countless murim artists under the heavens and hidden eccentrics unknown to the world, how could mere enthusiasts accurately gauge every single one's skill level?

That said, the rankings weren't complete nonsense either. If someone made it into the top hundred in any serial record, they were an openly acknowledged master in the murim world. Top fifty? Real skill aside, that name alone could intimidate hordes of foes—a monster of fame.

"I had no idea it was that common."

Jang Il tilted his head.

"Haha, common enough, but this one's different." Bang So-un's eyes gleamed as he continued. "It's the Haomen Murim Serial Record."

Haomen, one of the two great intelligence networks alongside the Beggars' Sect. A ranking from them was leagues beyond amateur enthusiast lists. And with frequent updates incorporating fresh intel, it was even more reliable. Plenty of value there.

"Oh, you got it from that horny Red-Eyed Fox bitch?"

"Of course."

"Worth the effort, then."

Jang Il grinned. He asked, "But why the sudden interest in a book like that?"

"To hunt this next prey, looks like we'll need a ton of intel."

"Ah, you mean that painter bitch, Hwa-seon or whatever? Supposed to be amazing at drawing, right?"

"She says it'll be perfect."

"Heh heh, if a girl like that paints the nudes for the slave ledger, it'll be killer."

Jang Il's lips curled into a smile, already anticipating it. The crucial portraits had been blank slates, leaving things feeling empty—now they'd finally fill them in.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Jang Il. There's a big problem."

"Aaah, that husband of hers. Soul... Chasing... Death Ghost? Or some ridiculously brutal nickname like that."

He hadn't heard the full details yet. Bang So-un laid it all out.

Jang Il's face lit up in shock. "Whoa? Total psycho! Slaughtered four murim artists in broad daylight and turned another into a limbless blind eunuch cripple...?"

"That's just the appetizer, Jang Il. The guy's killed a thousand people."

"A thousand? What the fuck, a serial killer? Don't the authorities drag him off?"

"If you're strong enough, they don't."

Most of those kills came from pursuit assassination commissions. Unlike stealth hits handed to assassins, pursuit jobs were blatant: kill in the open. So the client bore responsibility for deaths from ronin-contracted pursuits. Otherwise, who'd take such gigs?

"Fuck this shitty world. Guess you gotta be born strong just to avoid getting screwed over."

"......"

It was rich hearing that from a guy who hypnotized innocent women into sex slaves on a whim. Though Bang So-un proudly counted himself among them.

"Think we can pull this off? Got any clever plans?"

Even Jang Il, master of complacency, looked dead serious this time. A hypnotist playboy might balk at a thousand-kill human butcher, naturally.

"We'll see. But now we've got a new weapon."

The original hypnosis weapon. The money seized by hypnotizing Hwang Bo-seol after marrying into Golden Dragon Battlefield. The intel from taming Haomen's Eun Hwa-yeong.

"New weapon? You mean the intel, right?"

"Yeah. Time to put that weapon to real use."

Bang So-un's voice rang with conviction. He trusted the power of information implicitly.

"Take a look here."

He flipped to the early pages of the serial record—listing a thousand murim artists—and pointed at a spot. The fiftieth-ranked name.

"Whoa, rank fifty? That's insanely high, isn't it?"

Jang Il's eyes widened at the ranking. Higher than expected.

"Insanely high. Even elder-level figures from the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Schools couldn't claim they'd make top fifty."

Bang So-un elaborated. Elders from those orthodox giants seemed godlike to most murim folk. For even them to doubt entering top fifty meant the murim teemed with monstrous experts beyond famous sects. Soul-Chasing Death Ghost Ak Bul-beom was one such beast.

"Holy shit... that level? How the hell do we snag his wife?"

"Won't be easy, honestly. But that monster doesn't seem... normal."

"Huh?"

"Look here."

Bang So-un tapped the appearance description. "Eight-chi tall, muscular solid build, long arms... Doesn't that strike you as off?"

"Huh? Now that you mention it, doesn't match what you said earlier at all. Tall and skeletal-skinny, right?"

"Exactly. But check this—updated just this year, and the description's totally different. Appearance changes that drastically in under a year? Normal?"

"No way. Unless he's deathly ill or something... Wait."

Jang Il's mouth gaped as realization dawned. Bang So-un chuckled.

"That's not the only weird part. Look at the weapons: one sword, one blade."

Bang So-un and Jang Il didn't know it, but one sword one blade were the Soul-Chasing Death Ghost's iconic arms. The swift right-hand sword for speed, the crushing left-hand blade dominating all. Their opposing natures had sent countless masters to the afterlife.

But...

"Huh, yeah. You said that monster only used one weapon. A sword, right...?"

"Sword."

The sword alone slaughtered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠four and crippled one. Maybe they were so pathetic he didn't need the blade. But the witness was clear: he carried only one weapon.

That ruled out the easy explanation.

"So where's the blade? A master like him wouldn't wield junk. No way he forgot it."

"Er... broke?"

Jang Il tilted his head.

"That's my take too."

Bang So-un smirked confidently. "His cherished blade snapped, meaning he took a brutal beating and suffered severe internal injuries. Turned him into that skeletal wreck. Sound right?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

-Kuhk! Pathetic.

They hyped him as a bloodthirsty archfiend who'd claimed countless lives, so I bothered showing up without a commission. Turns out he's just a blowhard. This clown an archfiend? The fallen Heavenly Demon Cult's real demons would claw out of their coffins in outrage.

Waste of time. Time to head back.

But then...

A young punk deliberately leaked his presence from over there and stepped out.

"You're the Soul-Chasing Death Ghost, right? That one sword one blade seals it."

A young woman. Time to revise his earlier thought. Not some punk—proper aura, a true warrior. Far superior to that fake archfiend.

"Who're you?"

"Yu Seol-young. Don't love the title, but they call me Sword Peak."

"Famous one, eh."

Interest reignited, doused by the phony demon. Sword Peak Yu Seol-young. The top young expert dubbed One Dragon One Peak. But insiders knew: her real prowess lay elsewhere.

The sword-monster haven of mysterious Geomgak. A single-digit rank from there. Number four, no less. That was her true caliber.

But...

'Too young.'

Barely past twenty. Talent off the charts, but green. Talent needed battle-hardening to bloom. Thirties maybe, but twenties? Too soon. Why young experts stayed young experts—history proved it.

"No long talk. Spar with me."

Yu Seol-young stated it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠boldly. Youthful audacity. But broken pride taught ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠humility.

"Amusing. Have at me."

He never refused a fight that came knocking. That was his way of life.

......

......

......

......Fuck, should've lived differently.

-Mouryeo Painting Immortal seeking house near Moon Spirit Spring.

"Knew it."

Bang So-un smiled, right on the money. Moon Spirit Spring: famous hot spring outside Hangzhou. And their efficacy for internal injuries? Even a third-rate bum like him knew that.

-Soul-Chasing Death Ghost holed up in room at Dragon Road Inn, no movement.

"Still no action? Injuries so bad he can't move, or up to something?"

Whatever the reason, time to wait. Gather more intel calmly, devise a solid plan.