A Poisoned Hope
Frozen by an invisible force, Han Cheongyu's eyes widened in sheer terror, yet he kept his mouth tightly shut. Jekyeong, observing his composure, slightly raised his estimation of the man once more.
"What is it?"
"I have come to report to the Dragon Lord. A rebellious atmosphere is said to be brewing on Yeongi Island."
Jekyeong frowned. Had it been anywhere else, he wouldn't have paid much mind, but Yeongi Island was different.
"Who told you this?"
"Ju-hyeong, my Lord."
"Ju-hyeong? Did he go to Yeongi Island?" Jekyeong asked, puzzled.
Jekyeong placed great importance on the affairs of Yeongi Island, specifically tasking Hyeongu with its management. Why was Ju-hyeong the one reporting on it?
As Jekyeong wondered, Han Cheongyu immediately provided the answer.
As it turned out, this was a clever scheme devised by Hyeongu. He had made no effort to hide the fact that they had recently wiped out three islands; instead, he had actively spread rumors about it. His intention was to bury any rebellious voices under a blanket of sheer terror.
However, while the wind can extinguish a fire, it can also fan the flames. Hyeongu understood this truth, and he also knew that a potential spark existed on Yeongi Island.
The artisans of Yeongi Island were confined. No matter how much they improved the island's environment and elevated the treatment of the artisans, the fundamental fact that they were trapped on a single island remained unchanged.
Furthermore, they were forced to take on disciples and train them against their will. The disciples they raised were then forced to sacrifice their very lifespans to perform the secret forging techniques, just like the first group summoned to Heukgyodo.
It was no different from chickens trapped in a cramped coop, forced to lay eggs. In their oppressed hearts, resentment of varying degrees was bound to fester and grow.
This alone was cause enough for concern, but it did not end there.
The Chugeundan, which they had been tricked into consuming under the guise of a spiritual elixir, was another source of instability.
Initially, Jekyeong had not given this matter serious thought. The Chugeundan was both a carrot and a shackle, but he had assumed the low-level artisans would never realize its true nature.
After all, the late Qi Condensation stage was the final destination for the vast majority of human cultivators. To go beyond that and break through the Foundation Establishment barrier required not only talent but also abundant resources and luck. Since none of these three were within the reach of mere low-level artisans, Jekyeong had believed they would never uncover the truth behind the Chugeundan.
Hyeongu, however, thought differently. He believed humans were foolish creatures who could not control their own greed. He foresaw that those who had reached the late Qi Condensation stage through the power of the elixir might overstep their bounds and aim for something higher.
Of course, only a tiny fraction of them would seriously consider attempting to break through the Foundation Establishment barrier. Even the most ignorant Qi Condensation cultivators knew that attempting such a breakthrough was no joke, and that failure carried a devastating price.
In truth, that price was not entirely unmanageable if one was fully prepared, but such advanced knowledge was not something those born and raised in a backwater like the Heukgyo Water Territory would ever possess. Even if they did, their shallow pockets made such knowledge utterly useless.
That turtle is being remarkably meticulous.
Jekyeong felt Hyeongu was worrying excessively, but he actually preferred it that way. Did it not prove that Hyeongu had taken his instructions deeply to heart?
The cunning turtle had deliberately selected human subordinates to transport supplies to Yeongi Island, using them to test the waters.
If he had stopped there, it would have been no different from the shallow tricks of any other clever water demon. But Hyeongu, a wise Great Demon, had added one more layer.
By deliberately staging conflicts between the water demons and the human subordinates, he subtly hinted that factions existed within Jekyeong's ranks.
It was a highly plausible play. After all, Jekyeong had a significant number of human subordinates, and in terms of those he kept close, they actually outnumbered the demons.
Of course, the captives on Yeongi Island had no way of knowing this for certain, but they had clearly seen humans and demons coexisting under the same master.
Through this brief theatrical performance, Hyeongu had given them just enough room for imagination.
Whether it was due to this scheme or not, Ju-hyeong had successfully gathered results.
According to Han Cheongyu's report, the rebellious atmosphere on Yeongi Island indeed seemed to require a firm hand.
What to do?
He could ignore it, or he could take action. Jekyeong did not care how much resentment they harbored in their hearts, so long as they did not translate it into action.
As long as the artisans faithfully performed the Nameless Forging Method for him, Jekyeong was perfectly willing to turn a deaf ear even if they cursed his name behind his back.
"Bring Ju-hyeong to me."
Jekyeong pondered, but a simple answer eluded him. Ignoring it left him worried that the issue might snowball later, yet taking action made him fear he might needlessly stir up a hornet's nest. Thus, he decided to hear directly from the man who had witnessed it.
"I pay my respects to the Dragon Lord."
Summoned by Jekyeong, Ju-hyeong arrived before him three days later. His appearance was remarkably haggard, suggesting he had traveled day and night without rest.
"I wish to hear your opinion regarding the matter of Yeongi Island."
"My... opinion, my Lord?"
Ju-hyeong spoke cautiously, holding back his words. To Jekyeong's eyes, his demeanor seemed somewhat performative. It was as if he was deliberately hunching his shoulders and shifting his gaze, silently screaming, 'Look at how incredibly cautious I am in your presence.'
Well, it did not matter. Even if it was an act, it was still a form of deference.
"Then, this humble servant shall offer a few words," Ju-hyeong began carefully. "From what I observed during my visit... those artisans seemed to harbor a great deal of resentment. Some did not merely look dissatisfied; they had eyes filled with raw hatred. I was unable to speak deeply with them, but a few sharp-eyed individuals subtly asked if we had also consumed the spiritual elixir."
Hearing those words, Jekyeong clicked his tongue.
They've realized.
Even if they had not fully grasped the devastating side effects of the Chugeundan, they had undoubtedly begun to suspect that something was wrong with the 'spiritual elixir' they had taken.
It seems the Chugeundan planted vain greed in them.
No, that was incorrect. How could a cultivator's desire to progress be dismissed as mere greed? It was better to correct that term to 'hope' rather than greed.
In any case, now that things have come to this, I must take action.
Nothing must interfere with the Nameless Forging Method. It was a crucial matter directly linked to his cultivation, and he would absolutely tolerate no disruptions. Therefore, he had to act.
The key was how, and to what extent, he should intervene.
"I see. You may leave."
After dismissing Ju-hyeong, Jekyeong fell into deep thought.
What should he do?
Several methods came to mind. He could instigate a few fierce water demons to terrify them, or he could personally make a move.
If he gave those ignorant fools, whose heads were filled with idle fantasies, a taste of true terror and awe, they would realize who was protecting them, whether they wanted to admit it or not.
These methods were somewhat crude, but what did it matter? A blade only needed to cut, and a method only needed to work.
"So! Are you saying we should just sit here and wait to be slaughtered?!"
The heavily suppressed voice sounded like the growl of a cornered beast, and the wide-open eyes burned like blazing fireballs.
Some avoided his gaze, some frowned in disapproval, and others closed their eyes, refusing to react at all.
"Daerang! Your words are too harsh!"
"Too harsh? Did I say anything that isn't true?"
The man, Ham Daerang, glared fiercely at the elder who had rebuked him.
"Do you call this living just because we are drawing breath? We are slowly dying! Trapped on this tiny island, trembling in fear of when that Black Flood Dragon will suck away our lifespans!"
"It was an inevitable sacrifice," a white-haired elder said calmly.
But his words only poured oil on Ham Daerang's blazing anger. Instantly, his voice grew louder, and the veins on his neck bulged.
"Sacrifice? What absolute nonsense! Let's call a spade a spade! It is just prolonging our lives! And temporarily at that!"
"Then are you saying we all should have died back then?!"
As Ham Daerang continued to relentlessly press them, the white-haired elders finally began to flush with anger.
Regardless, Ham Daerang did not back down and kept up his momentum.
Other young cultivators, as if they had been waiting for this, joined Ham Daerang in criticizing their seniors' cowardice and indecisiveness.
The sight of the black-haired and white-haired arguing was both ridiculous and unsightly.
Those who kept their eyes closed sighed or acted as if they were deaf and blind.
They had not been like this at first. They had tried to mediate the conflicts in their own way, but it was completely useless. Over time, the rift only widened and grew more intense.
At first, they maintained some semblance of respect between master and disciple, but later, even that vanished.
"You rascal! How dare you speak to your master like that!"
"Master? What master! Did you teach me for my own good? Didn't you just need a sacrificial offering to present to the Black Flood Dragon in your stead?!"
It was usually like this.
"Sigh."
Among those with closed eyes was Choe Ubo. He sat there with a bitter expression, and unable to bear it any longer, he stood up and left.
No one paid attention to his departure, except for a young, youthful man who quietly stood up and followed him.
"Why do you insist on attending such difficult gatherings every time, Master?"
At the question of his disciple, So Cheonghwa, Choe Ubo let out a bitter smile.
"Indeed. If I didn't come, my mind would be at peace. Yet, out of anxiety, I find myself attending every single time."
"Even if you are there, Master, nothing will improve, and even if you aren't, nothing will worsen."
"Yes. You are right. Then why do you attend every time? You, too, remain silent the entire time, just like me."
"To confirm."
"Confirm?"
So Cheonghwa's eyes shone brightly. For a brief moment, a faint purple light flickered in his eyes.
"I wanted to confirm what kind of people Senior Brother Ham and his companions are, and what they are thinking."
"Is confirmation necessary? You should be able to tell just by looking at their words and actions."
"It is different," So Cheonghwa shook his head. "They claim to care about everyone's future, but in reality, they are merely trembling in fear. They want to escape before the Black Flood Dragon summons them. To them, other people are nothing but shields for their escape. You must have suspected this as well, Master."
"Yes... I had suspected it." Choe Ubo let out a long sigh.
He could not hide his inner thoughts in front of this young disciple.
"Do you not resent me?"
"I do not resent you."
Choe Ubo was both happy and sad. What blessings had he received to take such a disciple?
"The Ham boy's words are not wrong. There is poison in the spiritual elixir."
"You ended up testing it after all."
"I had no choice."
The disciple and master sighed in unison.
"Cheonghwa. In truth, the Ham boy is right. There is no future in staying here."
"I know."
So Cheonghwa looked up at the sky. His phoenix-like eyes reflected the countless stars scattered across the endless heavens.