The Demonic Cult's Messenger Arrives with an Ultimatum
The Demonic Cult's patrol envoy had come to deliver an ultimatum to the Murim Alliance. Of course, no matter how deep the grudge, harming a messenger was out of the question. Especially when the recipient was none other than the headquarters of the orthodox Murim world. In fact, the patrol envoy carrying the message had to be protected from any possible attacks. It was necessary to avoid giving the Demonic Cult any excuse to claim that the righteous factions had treacherously slain their envoy.
The high-level experts dispatched from the Murim Alliance couldn't possibly mingle with those filthy Demonic Cult bastards, so they maintained a moderate distance, surrounding and monitoring the envoy while simultaneously acting as bodyguards. And so the Demonic Cult's notoriously ominous pitch-black ebony carriage, escorted by a layer of elite warriors, crossed through the Central Plains. The eyewitness accounts of its journey stretched all the way to the Murim Alliance.
By the time it arrived before the Murim Alliance headquarters, the place was already packed with spectators. It was so crowded that even the opening of a major Murim tournament wouldn't have drawn this many people. Though no one said it out loud, everyone roughly guessed what kind of ultimatum the Demonic Cult's patrol envoy was bringing.
An ultimatum of war!
An ultimatum was a diplomatic letter sent from one faction to another. Among them, the final and last one was called an ultimatum of war — essentially declaring that talks were over and it was time to settle things with fists and blades.
This told the Murim Alliance one crucial fact. Just how confident must those Demonic Cult bastards be to issue a formal declaration of war before marching in? The ones who always gathered their strength in secret and struck with surprise attacks were now giving advance notice.
However, the power of the orthodox Murim factions had also reached its peak. Ever since the time of the Mucheon-daeje, the level of martial arts in the righteous path had been breaking new records every day. So even if the evil horde of the Demonic Cult came knocking now, they would simply rise up with righteous fury and meet them head-on.
Before the main gates of the Murim Alliance, the leading figures of the faction stood in a neat line, weapons in hand. This was the headquarters of the righteous Murim, after all. It was a deliberate performance to prevent the filthy seeds of the Demonic Cult from setting foot inside.
One might wonder what all this fuss was about. But in the Central Plains, face was as important as life itself.
From among the crowd of onlookers, the ebony carriages of the Demonic Cult finally revealed themselves. An ominous murmur spread through the spectators one wave after another.
“Halt!”
A lion's roar infused with Buddhist power thundered out. The pure demon-subduing energy, honed over a lifetime by the Inner Light Grand Master of Shaolin, spread far and wide. It was a form of preemptive suppression.
It worked. The ominous murmuring noise cut off abruptly. As expected of Shaolin, the pillar of the orthodox Murim — such admiration briefly followed before dying down.
What came next from the people full of righteous spirit was jeering and condemnation.
“How dare the evil spawn of the Demonic Cult trespass here!”
“Boo! Get lost, you Demonic Cult scum!”
“Did you really think the orthodox Murim would be scared by this? Justice always prevails!”
From their midst, the patrol envoy finally raised the ultimatum high and shouted.
“Wishing the eternal glory of your Alliance, this one speaks on behalf of the Divine Cult's Supreme One to the heroes of the Murim Alliance!”
“……?”
“……?”
For a moment, silence fell. Everyone blinked with expressions that said, Did I just hear that right? They looked at each other, but every face was equally dumbstruck. At least it confirmed they hadn't misheard.
“The new Supreme One of the Divine Cult wishes to erase the old grudges and hatreds and bring an end to the long-standing enmity that has been passed down through the ages! Therefore, the Divine Cult opens its gates and seeks reconciliation. We no longer wish to remain trapped in this sorrowful cycle where hatred begets blood and suffering calls forth more suffering. Instead, we desire to stand together beneath the same sky and sing joyful songs!”
Oh no. We've been had.
The Murim Alliance's strategist broke into a cold sweat. If they had invited the patrol envoy inside, it might have been different. But to publicly declare a desire for reconciliation in broad daylight before the eyes of the entire Central Plains? The Alliance had no choice but to accept.
The Demonic Cult had to be the one to attack first for the righteous side to have any moral ground. The Murim Alliance, guardian of the Central Plains' peace and safety, could not shout that they didn't need peace and that war it was.
From the very beginning, hiding their true intentions and pretending to send a final ultimatum had all been part of this scheme.
The strategist felt like he had wasted his brilliant mind. It was a common flaw among clever people.
But what exactly was their true intention? If they genuinely wanted peace, this could become a historic moment where one of Murim's long-standing calamities disappeared. But if it was merely a trick to lower their guard and trigger the fifth Great Orthodox-Demonic War?
“Now that the gates of the Divine Cult have been thrown wide open, any hero of Murim who wishes may visit Tianshan Shinshi and see the truth with their own eyes!”
“Ugh.”
The strategist let out a uncomfortable groan. A gate, by nature, opened in both directions. Merely opening the door of some thatched hut in that remote border region was practically announcing that they intended to advance into the Central Plains.
Yet there was no clear justification to stop them. The old grudges were truly ancient history. Most of what people knew about the atrocities of the Demonic Cult had been learned secondhand through stories.
The journey from Sichuan to the Sinnyeo Sect wasn't really much of a trip at all. You just got on a boat and got off. Of course, the scenery along the Yangtze River was beautiful.
Boarding a boat at the Min River in Chengdu and following the waterway would eventually merge into the main stream of the Yangtze. If you stayed aboard without disembarking, you'd enter Chongqing, the eastern region of Sichuan Province.
Chongqing was also one of the most fertile lands known for producing kings. The term "Ba-Shu," commonly used to refer to the Sichuan region, was a combination of the lands of the ancient Ba and Shu kingdoms. Among them, "Ba" specifically referred to Chongqing.
Because of this, people from Sichuan treated Chongqing as part of eastern Sichuan, while Chongqing locals got upset and insisted on not being lumped together with "those Sichuan bastards." It was that kind of relationship.
Once you crossed the elongated Chongqing territory horizontally, you would soon reach the Wushan Gorge, considered the greatest scenic view along the Yangtze. And the highest peak of Wushan was none other than the Sinnyeo Peak.
When the boatmen shouted, "Wushan Gorge ahead! Come out and take a look!" and called people over, you simply prepared yourself, got off at Zigui, and you'd be right in front of home.
In modern terms, the Sinnyeo Sect was prime real estate with a Yangtze River view and its own dedicated station right at the doorstep!
The return trip was so convenient and close that it was no wonder Seomun Su-rin had rushed out upon hearing news of the turmoil in Sichuan. Her disciple was just a few days away (though the Yangtze only flowed quickly in one direction), yet the girl had been dawdling without even showing her face. Naturally, worry had piled up until she had no choice but to go after her.
Thus, upon arriving at the Sinnyeo Sect's mountain gate, Cheong finally let out a deep sigh of relief, thinking, Ah, I'm finally home.
In truth, neither the Sinnyeo Sect, the Demonic Cult, nor the Tang Clan could compare in terms of luxury. Still, the mental stability that one's own home provided was something no other place in the world could offer.
“The Supreme Matriarch has returned. *Gulp.*”
The disciples of the Sinnyeo Sect tended to be extremely intimidated by Seomun Su-rin. So the moment they entered the sect grounds, they scattered like the wind, claiming they had to water the orchids and vanishing on their swords. This was Seomun Su-rin's consideration, allowing them to enjoy a reunion with their long-unseen junior sisters.
“Great-great-aunt! Wow, you've gotten so pretty! You're a total Western Beauty! A total Eastern Beauty! A total Chu Beauty! A total Royal Beauty!”
The Western Beauty referred to the greatest beauty of all time, Lady Xi. The Eastern Beauty was the one whose surname was Zhen. The Chu Beauty was Diaochan, and the Royal Beauty was Wang Zhaojun, whose given name was Qiang, hence sometimes called Royal Qiang. Roughly speaking, they were the Four Great Beauties, minus Yang Guifei.
“Wait, did you say Great-great-aunt is here?”
“Great-great-aunt!!”
“Great-great-aunt, where did you go this time? Can we come listen to the story?”
“The flute! Can you play the flute for us? It always lingers in our ears, but only you can recreate that exact feeling.”
“Who is the person next to you? A new disciple?”
“Whoa, it's the Sichuan's Greatest Beauty! The Understanding Poison Flower!”
“Ten Thousand Flowers Rain! Can you show us Ten Thousand Flowers Rain?”
“You idiot, wouldn't that kill us all?”
The girls were in absolute chaos, giggling and squealing among themselves. Cheong handed out the candies she had brought, popping one into each mouth as she accepted their enthusiastic welcome.
These children who lived deep in the mountains without ever leaving the sect were incredibly kind, but they were also extremely sensitive to outside stimulation. Their greeting was practically like being swarmed by a flock of birds.
Unlike Cheong, who was already used to it and skillfully popped candies into their mouths one by one, Dang Nan-a already looked visibly exhausted.
“I imagined a Taoist sect would be quiet and serene...”
“Isn't that just a stereotype?”
“Qingcheng and Emei were quiet. But you really are a senior of the Taoist path...”
Dang Nan-a said, looking at her with renewed eyes. It was inevitable. Her attitude was already completely different from when she had been staying at the Tang Clan. She had been completely slouched over, laziness ingrained in her bones. She had briefly trained with Paeng Cho-ryo, but even that hadn't lasted long. Apparently all she did was sleep, eat, or cling to Elder Cho throwing tantrums.
Yet the moment she returned home, her back straightened, her shoulders broadened, and she took on the dignified appearance of a proper senior disciple. It was truly fascinating.
Cheong chuckled and said, “Senior? Hardly. First, let's go greet the Sect Leader and I'll show you to the guest hall.”
They were crossing Sinnyeo Peak when something small came running and threw itself into her arms.
“Ack! My chest is injured, you know? Could you not rub your face all over the wound?”
“Huk.”
It was an unfamiliar face. But the child wearing the uniform of a second-generation disciple who had buried herself in her chest was so tiny that the top of her head barely reached just below Cheong's collarbone.
Cheong was quite tall for a woman, standing at nearly six cheok minus just two finger-widths (about 5'9.4"). Even taking that into account, not even reaching the collarbone meant she was seriously tiny.
There was only one person in the Sinnyeo Sect who fit that description.
“Oh. Jangmyeong. You've gotten really pretty. I almost didn't recognize you.”
“Heheht.”
Jin Jangmyeong let out a strange laugh.
Cheong looked her up and down and exclaimed in admiration, “Oh. What the—? Are you already at the early stage of first-class?”
“Heheheht.”
Jin Jangmyeong placed her hands on her hips and struck a pose.
Cheong continued, “Just because you're first-class doesn't mean you can block the path of a Peak realm master. Why don't you go play with the other early first-class brats? Goodness, you'll catch it from me. Shoo, shoo. Go away.”
“Tsk.”
Jin Jangmyeong's face crumpled.
When Cheong burst out laughing and spread her arms again, Jin Jangmyeong hesitated before asking, “Which side is injured? Left? Right?”
“Left.”
“Okay.”
Jin Jangmyeong threw herself into her arms again. Cheong let out another short scream.
“Ack! That's the left side! It barely healed and now it's going to split open again.”
“What? You said left!”
“Left from my perspective, not yours.”
“Then you should have said it that way.”
“If I asked whether your left or right arm was hurt, would you answer with left from your own view? We're seeing each other after so long and you're still saying stupid things.”
“Hmph.”
“Alright. Get off now. The law is strict. A minor shouldn't be clinging like this.”
“……? I was already an adult when we first met.”
“To me, men and women are the same. Adulthood starts at twenty. Isn't Jangmyeong eighteen this year? Two more years to go.”
“It's one year and one month. This year is almost over.”
For reference, in the Central Plains, boys reached adulthood at twenty, the age known as "weak crown." For girls, it was simply fifteen. A boy of fifteen was told to establish his will in learning and called it "aspiring to study," but for a girl of fifteen, there was no talk of learning — they were simply considered adults and told to hurry up and have children.
Given the state of the Central Plains, it was no wonder Seomun Su-rin had become furious and left behind countless legendary anecdotes in the women's rights struggle.
After that, she looked at Dang Nan-a and asked, “Who's this kid?”
Thwack.
Cheong lightly bonked her on the head.
“What kind of language is that to a guest? This is Dang Nan-a. She's one of the Five Flowers of Murim, and, well, she's also a physician.”
“Hey! Calling someone 'this kid'? Um, hello? Nice to meet you, Sister?”
“One of the Five Flowers?”
Jin Jangmyeong looked at Dang Nan-a's face, then at Cheong's, then back at Dang Nan-a's, and finally at Cheong's again. She let out a snort and twisted one corner of her mouth upward.
“Hey! What the hell, you little brat! What does that even mean?”
“Hmph.”
Seeing that expression brought back an old memory for Cheong. Come to think of it, this girl Jangmyeong had been incredibly rude from the very beginning. After entering the Sinnyeo Sect she had acted so docile that Cheong had forgotten. She probably just had a really bad case of stranger anxiety.