Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Encounter
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"What is this!"
"Dodge!"
The situation was pure pandemonium.
The moment they saw the sky thickly blanketed with sword silhouettes, the hooded men cried out in terror and unleashed their movement techniques.
Sword beams rained down from the heavens in unison.
Of course, their accuracy wasn't particularly high, but the real problem was that the falling sword beams began twisting their trajectories mid-air, homing in on nearby foes like tracking missiles.
"Insane!"
The hooded men pushed their lightness skills to the limit, but the sword beams were far too fast.
What good was contorting their bodies to maximize speed?
The sword beams, infused with his will, whipped through the air like mad, relentlessly pursuing them.
Eventually, some reached their limits and reached for their sword hilts.
After all, those were just sword beams. They figured they could counter them with their own.
But.
"!!!"
The hooded men who grabbed their hilts froze in shock, one and all.
Their swords wouldn't draw.
More precisely, an intangible force was crushing both sword and scabbard, preventing any draw.
"Heh heh, you wretched fools. You dare think of drawing your blades before this old man?"
Jin Mu-seong strolled forward with hands clasped behind his back, azure qi vapors billowing from his entire body.
With each step, the earth cracked—crack!—spiderweb fissures spreading from where his soles touched.
At that eerie sight, the hooded men couldn't even bring themselves to look at his face.
I... I can't breathe.
It felt like the entire area had turned into a vacuum.
How much did Namgung Yeol mean to him that mere killing intent could manifest so tangibly?
"Guh... ack..."
The insane qi pressure deafened their ears and sent nosebleeds streaming down.
One elderly hooded man squeezed out words.
"Cough... Do you truly... intend to make... the entire Conclave... your enemy?"
The Conclave wasn't just some shadowy faction.
The Conclave was one, yet many.
A colossal power with tentacles stretching across the entire jianghu, like the Filth Gate and beyond.
Though it publicly proclaimed neutrality, that very stance made it indispensable to all sides, righteous or demonic.
Its information network was unrivaled in the Central Plains.
As the Filth Gate's shadowy backer and true core, even the Heavenly Demon God Cult—which couldn't tap the Beggars' Gang—maintained close ties and traded with the Conclave.
Thus, no expert dared touch it lightly.
No matter their personal might, grudges demanded caution.
But.
—Snap.
Something snapped, and the space-filling white sword beams began staining crimson.
It was the accumulation of Jin Mu-seong's killing intent toward them.
His rage had peaked, his unleashed bloodlust spiraling out of control, turning the qi itself murderous.
As the sword beams filling every direction turned red, the whole space resembled a blood-red night sky.
That was why his moniker was Crimson Night Sword Sovereign.
"Ack... guh...!"
The speaking elder spewed a mouthful of black blood.
He couldn't hide his bewilderment at the mad spectacle unfolding.
Just meeting his eyes crushed him with pressure; even breathing was a struggle.
Jin Mu-seong advanced with impassive eyes.
Each flick of his fingers unleashed torrents of sword beams, skewering the hooded ones like kebabs.
Terror-stricken survivors unleashed movement arts, only to meet the same fate as their fallen comrades moments later.
One by one, one by one.
"Stop..."
The elder's eyes shook violently.
It hurt too much.
Every nerve screamed in agony.
In his bloodshot gaze, Jin Mu-seong appeared as the god of death.
Terror surged, snapping his mind to clarity amid the pain.
Then, Jin Mu-seong spoke.
"You asked if I intend to make the entire Conclave my enemy?"
The elder shuddered at the question.
His heart pounded like needles stabbing it.
Jin Mu-seong glanced down indifferently and replied.
"Pointless words."
As he clenched his fist in gesture, crimson sword beams encircled the elder.
"If that child had died."
The moment his words ended, the heaven-filling crimson sword beams crashed down like thunder.
Before that overwhelming barrage, all things seemed powerless.
To the elder staring up with hollow eyes, Jin Mu-seong said,
"The entire jianghu would have made an enemy of this sovereign."
Time passed.
Cheongun left the Myriad Dragon Escort Agency in Lian Baek's hands for the time being and spent a few days at the Filth Gate.
To check how it operated.
No matter how capable Cheongun was, he couldn't grasp every detail of the Filth Gate's businesses.
So many things to manage—it was far more complex than expected.
So Ye-rin's warning hadn't been empty words.
"Didn't this lady tell you? It's no sect for an ignorant fool like you to handle."
"Cut the posturing. A rootless rabble like you lot."
"Hee hee, isn't a lack of roots the truest root of all?"
What nonsense.
Like claiming cross-dressing was the manliest act a man could do.
Cheongun clicked his tongue.
"Shut it, you flower snake."
"This lady isn't a flower snake."
"Spraying perfume to seduce, then yapping away."
"Nonsense! Do I look like some floozy who plays around? I told you, I just wanted an excuse to boot you out! How many times must I say it? This was my first time pulling something like this!"
"Noisy. Just explain already."
So Ye-rin clicked her tongue in turn.
"This isn't the time. Someone's coming at midnight tonight. We should prepare."
"Someone? Who?"
"Who else? A man from the Conclave. Every month at midnight, a hooded guy drops by. To get periodic reports from the Filth Gate."
Cheongun replied flatly.
"I told you. Those Conclave bastards won't have the leisure for that right now."
"No matter how strong your master is, he can't wipe out the entire Conclave in days."
"Why not?"
"The Conclave has multiple bases—no single headquarters. It's cell-structured, so if one falls, others carry on."
"I already gave Master all their locations. No need to worry."
So Ye-rin blinked.
He knew all the Conclave's bases?
Even she, the Filth Gate Lord, didn't know them all precisely?
"How do you know that?"
"Got my ways, flower snake."
"......"
Cheongun thought to himself.
The Conclave wouldn't be annihilated completely, but it would crumble enough to be out of commission for a while.
He was certain because they'd dared touch Namgung Yeol, of all people—the one they shouldn't have.
In the original story, when Cheongun first met Jin Mu-seong, he'd been shocked.
The man was drenched in blood, wandering in vengeance for his disciple, racking up kills.
First target: Darkwood Sect.
Second: the Conclave.
Third: Heavenly Demon God Cult.
His nickname Slaying Ghost wasn't for show.
He wasn't just strong—he was a Sword Sovereign.
Amid countless swordsmen, he'd earned the supreme title.
Though ultimately felled by the Heavenly Demon, he'd torn off one arm.
That monster among monsters had gone mad with revenge, becoming a true Slaying Ghost.
Namgung Yeol had survived by the skin of her teeth thanks to Cheongun, but the near-death was fact.
He wouldn't show it, but his fury must have boiled over.
With Cheongun pinpointing targets, he'd likely razed them all by now.
Then, So Ye-rin asked.
"Doesn't make sense. That Namgung Yeol girl—wasn't she just an unnamed disciple? From what I know, she hadn't even properly learned swordsmanship."
"So?"
"So she's a disciple in name only—barely an acquaintance?"
Cheongun smirked.
"Not just any disciple."
"Then what?"
"Well."
"Well?"
So Ye-rin leaned in, eyes sparkling.
Spill it already.
Cheongun stroked his chin.
"Ah, you see."
"Hurry!"
"Got my ways."
"What?"
"Shut up."
"......"
Truth be told, there was a tangled reason.
Jin Mu-seong had no lovers.
Not that he hated women.
He liked them, but he'd loved only one his whole life.
The issue: it was unrequited.
And she was the matriarch of the Namgung Clan—Namgung Yeol's late mother.
A clichéd melodrama.
The woman he loved fancied another: his best friend, the Namgung Clan head.
He'd swallowed his tears, blessing their union—only for her to die one day, leaving a cold corpse.
Unable to bear losing his unrequited love, he'd wandered the world with just his sword.
That old man was Jin Mu-seong.
The last link was Namgung Yeol, the spitting image of his lost love—hence his obsession with her safety.
When even she died, madness took him, birthing the Slaying Ghost.
Or so the story went, from memory.
In short: the Conclave fools who'd touched Namgung Yeol would suffer greatly for a while.
Of course, he couldn't voice it.
Then, So Ye-rin gasped and whipped her head away.
"Fine! Cocky brat."
She seemed genuinely miffed, muttering.
"......Thinks his martial arts and pretty face let him toy with this lady."
Cheongun chuckled and pulled out his wooden staff.
The moment he swung for her nape—
"Gate Lord."
Jeok Hwa-ryeon's voice came from behind.
He turned to see her smiling with her eyes.
Her lips curved down, though—gaze fixed on So Ye-rin.
Cheongun asked.
"Ryeon, what brings you here?"
"The Gate Lord was gone so long, I came looking. But."
Jeok Hwa-ryeon smirked.
"Who's this? Looks like she'd fit right in pouring drinks at a brothel."
"Ooh."
Cheongun admired her sharp jab.
Calling the (former) Filth Gate Lord a whore?
As their tempers flared, Cheongun watched from the sidelines like it was a show, munching imaginary popcorn.
Then, fully provoked, So Ye-rin narrowed her eyes.
She scanned Jeok Hwa-ryeon up and down, then scoffed derisively.
"Got a problem, you big-titted cow?"
Clap clap.
Cheongun gave a standing ovation.