The Wanderer's Code
A wanderer has a wanderer's code of honor.
“C-can you truly promise to spare me? Can you swear it on your sect and your master’s honor?”
“This is exactly what I was talking about. If you spit out everything you know without a single lie, I’ll swear on my master’s name and the honor of the Goddess Sect that I’ll let you go safely this time. Just this once. You’re not expecting me to swear I’ll never touch you again just because you coughed up some information, are you?”
Even while making the promise, Cheong added the extra remark on purpose. She knew it would actually make her words sound more trustworthy.
“No, of course not. Um, first of all, my name is Yu Sung-gwang. I am the senior warrior of the second squad in the Double-Line Blood Gu Unit under the Venerable Dead Tree of the Hyeolgyo.”
“Double-Line Blood Gu Unit?”
“The Double-Line Blood Gu is a parasite with two lines on its body. Our unit specializes in handling exactly that species, so…”
The jailer spilled everything he knew with sincere diligence. The Hyeolgyo’s organizational structure, the unit’s internal hierarchy, personal details, and mission objectives all poured out in a chaotic jumble.
The unit’s primary goal was to infiltrate the orthodox murim, feed targets the blood gu, and secure useful pawns. However, simply planting the gu wasn’t enough to feel secure. There were far too many ways to purge it. That was why the complete process of mental and physical torture was mandatory—to break the victim so thoroughly that even after the gu was removed, they would remain a ruined, obedient servant who followed orders without question.
“Using those discarded collaborators to plant gu in key figures, extract information, or secure internal cooperation—”
“Hold on.”
Cheong hadn’t particularly wanted to hear any of this, but a few details still managed to snag her attention.
“Discarded collaborators? Doesn’t that just mean you throw them away after use? Is that internal slang?”
“That… is the personal preference of the unit leader and deputy leader…”
What followed was so horrifying it defied description.
In the final stage of breaking a captured prisoner, they would be thrown to pigs, dogs, or beggars. Direct sexual torture was forbidden until that absolute last moment. It was the twisted taste of the great leader and his deputy to let the victim believe they had endured the worst, only to have their most precious thing brutally stolen at the very end. Once a person—man or woman—experienced that final disposal, they would never defy the Hyeolgyo again.
Cheong offered a simple impression.
“Hmm. Now I just want to kill every last one of them.”
“B-but you said you’d spare me!”
“The promise stands. I swore on my sect and my master’s honor, so I have no choice. Now then, about this blood gu—care to explain it in more detail?”
She then received a private lecture on the parasite straight from an expert.
“That is… everything I know.”
“Hmm. The problem is I have no way of knowing whether you lied to me or not. So just wait a moment. I’ll catch one more person and run a cross-verification.”
“I spoke only the truth—”
“Save it. If there’s anything you lied about, this is your final chance to correct it. I distinctly remember saying I would spare you if you told me everything without lies, yes? But if you deceived me?”
Cheong’s pupils contracted sharply. The whites of her eyes showed all around her irises in the vicious pattern known as four-white eyes, and an ominous purple glow flickered within them.
The Hyeolgyo warrior who had named himself Yu Sung-gwang felt his breath freeze in his throat. He began to shake uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the true nature of the loneliest star of heavenly slaughter—the most wicked existence among all forms of ferocity.
“You’ll end up begging me to kill you. Shall we start by peeling every inch of your skin off? Last chance. Anything you hid or lied about?”
“Actually… the truth is…”
A few pieces of information were corrected, and several trivial details emerged. His desperate expression suggested he had finally spoken properly this time.
“Then, since I’ve told you everything, now…”
“Good. A promise must be kept.”
Cheong nodded, then continued.
“By the way, what is your father’s name?”
The warrior swallowed hard.
“Why are you asking that?”
“You didn’t tell me. I clearly ordered you to spit out everything you know. Looks like you were still hiding things after all?”
“N-no! My father is…”
Then came a flood of family details she hadn’t even asked for.
“Is that so? Then what is your favorite food? What do you dislike? Any foods you can’t eat?”
“Why are you suddenly asking about food…”
“What about your hobbies? Your taste in women? Who are your close friends? Any embarrassing childhood memories? Didn’t I ask you to tell me everything you know?”
Cheong’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“You told me everything, yet I still don’t know so many things? You were planning to trick me from the very beginning, weren’t you? How dare you deceive me? As promised, since you hid information, you must die.”
“That doesn’t even make any sen—”
The Hyeolgyo warrior’s mouth was stuffed with his own pants.
Looking at Cheong’s brightly blooming smile, he finally realized the truth. She had never intended to spare him. Demanding that someone reveal everything they knew was an impossible request from the start—one that could never be fully satisfied.
“I don’t know if this will comfort you, but you won’t be the only one following this path. So there’s no need to feel wronged about going alone.”
It clearly offered no comfort at all. The Hyeolgyo warrior struggled desperately.
Cheong clapped her hands together.
“Oh, right. I mentioned the soundproofing is perfect, didn’t I? Sorry. I’ll remove the gag. It must be miserable enough to be in pain. You should at least get to scream.”
Omen: The (Unknown)th Crisis
You have faced the evil purpose of the Blood Sect.
Mission performance actions ……… …… …
“It chimes in after I’ve already figured everything out,” Cheong muttered, clicking her tongue. She dismissed the newly updated martial arts window with a wave of her hand.
Still, it wasn’t bad. Enjoying herself, earning good karma as a bonus, and receiving extra training points as a reward was a win-win. If the system would just give her clear instructions on what to do, it might even feel like she was playing along. But this indifferent attitude of “I don’t care which side you choose” was just too half-assed. She couldn’t bring herself to like it.
Even so, anxiety did not rise. Cheong felt more refreshed and relieved than she had in a long time.
She was no longer a jailer, so she picked up the underground prison keys and stood up. Twice, in fact. The first attempt ended with her staggering and falling hard, so she had to get up again.
When blood rushed to her skin like this… yeah. It was seriously too much. Damn near drove her crazy. For real.
But still. It had felt really good. And if it felt good, wasn’t that enough?
With unusually clear eyes, Cheong—still covered in blood—opened the door of the underground prison and stepped out.
The jailer duty rotated daily. It was an incredibly free assignment. You could spend the entire day tormenting the prisoners for fun, then sleep on a simple cot at night or keep disturbing them so they couldn’t rest, enjoying the entertainment however you liked. Plus, the next day you could claim exhaustion and rest completely. Only superiors were allowed such a sweet mission.
It felt strangely familiar. No matter where you went, it seemed units operated in much the same way.
Since Cheong had already secured her own safety, there was nothing holding her back. The gu was merely an automatic purification-type parasite that devoured poison, and she could escape whenever she wished.
The only thing that worried her was the fate of any wanderers who might have carelessly eaten random things and ended up ingesting the gu as well. They had consumed two of those evil pills made from ground-up human flesh and still scored less than a hundred points. If they could be saved, they should be.
As someone once said, it wasn’t that you had locked her up—it was that you were now locked up with her.
Which movie was that line from? Batman? Alien? The correct answer was neither; it was The Watcher. But Cheong wouldn’t have known anyway.
Her memories of her homeland had grown faint. They surfaced only occasionally in dreams, leaving her thinking, Oh, there was a time like that.
Whenever she saw her old world in those dreams and woke up, the fear that surged through her was so intense she would tremble uncontrollably for a long while.
What if she went back like this? She was now certain she could never adapt to modern life again.
Aish, negative thoughts again.
Fortunately, her body and mind were so refreshed that she could shake them off easily.
Cheong pushed open the iron door leading outside.
Creeeeak. The door screamed as it opened. They really should oil the hinges. The facility management was a complete disaster.
She exited the second training room, checked the numbers on both sides, then knocked firmly on the iron door of the first training room.
A small iron flap near the bottom slid open.
“What? Who is it?”
At the same moment, Cheong slammed the door open with all her strength.
Creak! The heavy iron door gave way helplessly before her monstrous power—until thud! It struck something and fierce resistance jolted her wrist.
She quickly stepped inside, closed the door, and kicked the flap shut.
Now it was completely sealed. According to a dead man’s last words, no sound from inside could be heard.
Then she realized her mistake.
The jailer of the first training room lay sprawled on the floor, blood streaming from his head.
“Ah, crap. He can’t die. What a waste.”
Cheong hurriedly checked his pulse. She enjoyed dissecting living things, but touching corpses was a filthy, disgusting act of desecration that held no appeal.
Fortunately, he had simply suffered a concussion and lost consciousness for a moment.
She stripped him, tied his arms and legs so he couldn’t escape, and left him there. Since she now knew the soundproofing was excellent and there was no need to gag him, the saying that knowledge is power had proven itself once again—an ancestral teaching meant exactly for moments like this.
Taking the underground prison key, Cheong opened the cell door.
A terrified gasp came from within.
“Eek.”
The voice came from a small iron box in the center of the cell.
There had been one in Cheong’s room too. She had thought it was a toilet, but it turned out to be a torture device. It forced the victim to cram their body inside, and every time they emerged, the gu would release its poison to torment them.
Cheong let out a deep sigh.
“Miss? Are you all right?”
“I am not a miss, I am livestock. I am not a miss, I am livestock. I am not a miss, I am livestock…”
Hmm. This one’s completely broken.
Cheong scratched her head.
The Destroy the Flower operation.
That was the Hyeolgyo’s true purpose that Cheong had uncovered.
For an operation with such a serious-sounding name, the actual plan was rather petty.
It was designed to ruin the Murim Competition and drag the prestige and dignity of the orthodox murim through the mud.
In the very city where the Orthodox Murim Alliance stood firm, during their largest event, they planned to capture the most famous person, brutally break them, and put them on display.
A high-level expert was out of the question for the Double-Line Blood Gu Unit. Warriors above the Harmonious Realm would simply burn ordinary gu away with their internal energy. So they targeted famous rising stars instead. And among those, to deliver the greatest shock, they naturally set their sights on the beautiful flowers loved by both the Five Flowers of Murim and the entire orthodox world.
Hence the name—Destroy the Flower.
The original target had been the easy lily. But an order came from above not to touch her, so she was passed over. The poisonous flower was immune to the gu, so she was passed as well. The illusory flower hadn’t even participated in the competition. That left only the Snow Flower and the Sword Flower—one or both.
The Snow Flower stayed shut inside her sect and rarely appeared, so they were waiting for an opportunity. As for the Sword Flower, she had apparently been embarrassed by her loss to a wanderer during the martial tournament. The moment she left the city, they snatched her up and had been “educating” her for quite some time.
“Moyong Miss? It’s me, Seomun Cheong.”
“I am not a miss, I am—”
A head poked out from the top of the box. The iron container began shaking violently, then toppled over sideways with a heavy thud.
From inside, Moyong Juhee barely managed to extract herself. Or rather, she simply poured out onto the floor like a discarded sack.