A Mallet in the Dead of Night
"Hmm... this ain't it either..."
With so many demonic cultivators like Sima and his ilk specializing in corpse manipulation techniques and martial arts, I'd suddenly ordered them to craft this exquisitely ornate wooden coffin—antique-looking as hell. But when I cracked it open with eyes full of eager anticipation, what hit me was the inventory's unprecedented reaction, along with the blood-soaked interior staring back at me, completely at odds with my hopeful gaze.
To probe the new possibilities embedded in my Inventory, I'd run experiments in the courtyard before entering this martial world, where I could now build solid evidence through human testing. Sure, part of me wanted to dive into a fresh game world to snag abilities like this, but acquiring skills meant burning points—points that were crucial to me for leveling them up. I'd already indulged in some filial piety payback and stockpiled points without splurging, bracing for mishaps like this. A slip-up or two was forgivable, but blowing precious points on blind faith? No fucking way.
A regular hunter stuck in the real world might eat the loss and experiment anyway...
'But I ain't short on cash or time.'
I let out a chuckle at the thought—meaning, with a martial world full of expendable test subjects and gear ready to die at my word, I could run these trials endlessly. Scratching my head, I surveyed the blood-drenched disaster of a room, then slashed lines across the notebook on the table.
Summing up what I'd learned so far, the results were straightforward.
"So, it can hold living things, but only up to the size of an adult man's torso...?"
Thinking the coffin's dimensions might be the key variable, I'd ordered all sorts of sizes—coffins, cages, you name it. But all I got were pristine returns from the Inventory, followed by the gut-punch of a gore-filled interior that shattered my expectations.
'Well, after that, I had to nail down exact specs for living subjects... what a pain in the ass. Good thing I had potions, or it'd have been a nightmare.'
After endless trials, I'd finally pinned down the Inventory's clear limits. Smirking with satisfaction, I stepped out of the room—only to spot the maids lined up at the door, faces drained of color, awaiting my next command.
"Hm...? Something happen?"
Tilting my head with a gentle smile, I watched sweat pour down their ashen faces as their lips trembled.
"Th-that... uh, y-you should probably wash up first..."
Among the maids I sampled often—blessed with killer looks and bodies—this one, the chirpiest by nature, spoke up while the rest nodded frantically behind her, shivering.
Curious at their reaction, I glanced down. Sure enough, my body was caked in the aftermath of the experiments. With a wry chuckle, I nodded.
"Got too absorbed and didn't notice... Yeah, work's work, but a man's gotta live like a man. Prep the bath right away. And clean up this mess of a room while you're at it."
Relief flickered at first—they thought they'd escape the gore by sending me off to bathe—but their faces twisted in horror. My state alone screamed that the room looked worse than a slaughterhouse. The lead maid shot pleading eyes, begging me to assign the nasty work to lesser servants. As if I gave a shit? I wasn't some errand boy sweet-talking them into bed...
These bitches, who'd begged mercy for the women I'd claimed—brainwashed via Dokgo Hwaryeon's crash courses—now acting like the tables had turned? A surge of irritation bubbled up, pursing my lips.
'This is why you don't adopt black-haired beasts. Fucking cunts—I gave 'em dick, jobs under me directly, everything. Now they're pulling this shit.'
Shaking my head at the ancients' wisdom on smacking balls to clear the mind, I turned on my heel. Housekeeping? I'd tell the wife; she'd handle it.
+++
"Come here!!!"
Deep in Mudang Mountain, at the Mudang Sect's mountain retreat, a sudden bellow from the visitors made the assorted martial artists and civilians approaching the gates gape before bowing hastily.
Normally, these guys would strut around spouting nonsense about untouchable disciples, but that shit depended on the opponent. The glossy-maned warhorses they rode and the gleaming golden armor radiating splendor exuded an aura that crushed onlookers' spirits effortlessly.
As the roughly thirty Geumuiwi stirred up a racket, the sect disciple guarding the main gate scrambled forward, bowing with utmost deference. He'd witnessed the Shaolin abbot himself cowering before a Geumuiwi officer during the recent march on the Demonic Cult—a fresh event that survivors like him wore as a badge of honor, bragging to friends. Hence his swift, polished response.
"An honor to meet you. This lowly one is Jin-hyeong, 37th-generation disciple of the Mudang Sect."
The Geumuiwi squad leader, frowning at the sect's gaudy plaque—garish ornaments clashing with Taoist austerity—nodded, appeased by the fitting respect matching their prestige.
"Good. We're on official duty, so skip the intros."
He flashed the imperial badge high for all to see, openly declaring their mission on the emperor's behalf, then turned to Jin-hyeong.
"I've brought my squad here for one thing: verification."
"Please, speak—what's the matter? Though I'm but a lowly disciple, I know our sect inside out—save for top-secret matters—and can answer fully, no matter who asks."
Jin-hyeong's extreme politeness suggested smooth sailing; the leader smiled, nodding.
"Excellent! I'm on imperial orders myself, so rumors would be a headache."
Gripping his golden spear shaft, the creak echoed through the hushed crowd, weighing the air heavy. Not just "headache"—defy them like this, and it'd be execution for ignoring the emperor. The Geumuiwi's collective killing intent made even bystanders sweat bullets.
"Normally, I'd drone on about His Majesty's grace, but you're all bowing already, so straight to the point."
Surveying the now-solemn crowd, the leader stepped toward the poised Jin-hyeong.
"We've received a report about your Mudang Sect..."
"A r-report?"
"Who filed it and why? No idea. But it's serious enough we can't ignore it—hence the visit."
"I see..."
"We'll speak to your leader inside, but preliminaries first."
Waving dismissively to ease Jin-hyeong's tension, the leader grinned.
"Word is, your Mudang Sect possesses and studies forbidden texts the imperial court explicitly banned... True?"
At that, killing intent like heat haze poured from the lined-up Geumuiwi, pressuring the martial artists in the crowd for any contingency.