Chapter 52: Demonic Explosive Pills
Chapter 52: Demonic Explosive Pills
Chapter 52: Demonic Explosive Pills
Translation: Godtl
The Blood Venom Unit’s vice commander rummaged through the corpses and retrieved two unused Demonic Explosive Pills.
They weren’t just from any assassins but specifically from the Soul Reapers I had slain in an instant. That alone showed how valuable they were.
In addition to that, she collected black-coated throwing daggers and poison-filled incense beads.
Unfortunately, there was no command scroll or a map indicating the location of their base.
After inspecting the items she handed over, I divided them between my robe and satchel—just in case I lost one, I wouldn’t lose everything.
“This should be enough.”
Honestly, this alone wasn’t enough to irrefutably prove they were from Sal Valley. But then again, those bastards were never foolish enough to carry incriminating evidence.
The reason Sal Valley’s infamy was so great came down to one thing—their martial arts were exceptionally strong for an assassin organization.
Typically, martial arts develop over generations, steadily improving over time. That’s why old and prestigious sects tend to be powerful.
But assassins?
The moment they get even slightly stronger, they’re sent out on missions—where they die like flies. Structurally, it’s impossible for an assassin group to develop powerful martial arts.
That’s what made Sal Valley so terrifying.
They had somehow broken that norm.
With a light sigh, I checked my own condition.
I had minor injuries but nothing serious. However, my Qi pathways were still unstable from the strain of my Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art.
I could circulate my inner energy just fine, but I wouldn’t be able to exert full strength for a while.
“Tang Sowol, are you alright?”
“Yes. I’m a bit drained from overusing my inner energy, but it’s nothing serious.”
“The vice commander said she had no injuries either. That’s a relief. As for you, Elder—”
“My legs are still gone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“…Weren’t they always?”
“I meant there’s barely anything left intact to begin with. But I suppose I feel a bit better now. Eating something helped.”
Ghost Shadow Thief chuckled and tossed me his now-empty jerky pouch.
There hadn’t been much inside, but given that he had been starving before, it must have been a satisfying meal.
He even struck a ridiculous pose, flexing his arms as if to show off newfound strength.
Shaking my head with an amused sigh, I continued.
“We’re heading to Zhongnan Mountain to seek help from the Wudang Sect. Elder, will you still be heading to the Murim Alliance?”
“Why even ask? Of course, I’m going with you. Besides, you’re the one carrying all the evidence. What am I supposed to do, walk into the Murim Alliance empty-handed?”
Now that I thought about it, the North Sea Ice Palace’s cultivation technique and the elixirs made from human lives were still in my possession—the very things Ghost Shadow Thief had entrusted to me when he thought he was dying.
“I should return these to you.”
“Forget it. Better that you keep them. Honestly, it seems like they’re safer with you than with this old man.”
Ghost Shadow Thief waved me off, looking oddly relieved.
“…Understood. I’ll hold onto them, then.”
“Good. I’m counting on you.”
Most likely, he was telling me to deliver them to the Murim Alliance on his behalf if necessary.
I briefly considered handing them back but settled for patting the wooden case lightly.
Then, glancing at the others, I spoke again.
“Since our course is set, let’s head to Zhongnan Mountain. Vice commander, I know you haven’t had much time to rest, but could you guide us immediately?”
“That’s my job.”
With a brief nod, the Blood Venom Unit’s vice commander turned and retraced our path.
This time, we erased our tracks as we moved—per Ghost Shadow Thief’s advice.
***
After three days of near-constant movement, taking only minimal breaks, the once-distant mountains had drawn much closer.
We even began seeing lines of commoners making their way toward Wudang.
Most importantly, there had been no further ambushes along the way.
“Brother Cheon, can we finally take a breather?”
“Yeah. From here on, we’re basically at Wudang’s front yard. We should be safe.”
“Phew….”
The moment I nodded, Tang Sowol let out an exaggerated sigh, as if she were expelling every last bit of air from her lungs.
People passing by gave us brief glances before shaking their heads in pity and hurrying along.
Noticing their looks, Tang Sowol blinked in confusion—but honestly, I couldn’t blame them.
We looked horrible.
We had been using lightfoot techniques constantly, with no time to rest or wash.
Everyone was covered in dirt, looking utterly disheveled.
And to top it off, one of us had a missing leg.
From an outsider’s perspective, it must have looked like we were desperate refugees, barely holding on as we dragged ourselves to Zhongnan Mountain.
Tang Sowol finally seemed to realize this, letting out a helpless chuckle.
But Ghost Shadow Thief paid no attention to the stares. Instead, he gazed at the stairway leading up to Wudang, a nostalgic look in his eyes.
“It’s been a long time.”
Tang Sowol’s expression stiffened. “…Elder, don’t tell me you’ve stolen something from here before, too?”
Ghost Shadow Thief puffed up his chest and proudly declared,
“I once borrowed the scabbard of Yoon Sword from the headmaster’s room.”
“A fine sword should have a fine scabbard. And it did. Haha.”
Tang Sowol’s mouth hung open in shock.
I was probably making a similar expression.
The Yoon Sword was the symbol of the Wudang Sect—its name taken from the Yoon Sword Style, a technique only the sect leader and their successor were allowed to learn.
And this man had stolen its scabbard.
Which meant he could have stolen the sword itself if he had wanted to.
Maybe this was what it took to earn the title of Ghost Shadow Thief.
I couldn't help but admire him.
At the same time, I wondered—what if he didn’t have that self-imposed rule about never stealing things as valuable as a person’s life or dignity?
If he hadn’t, he might not just be a legend known only to a few but a figure recorded in the history of Murim itself.
If he had chosen to pass down his martial arts, the title of Ghost Shadow Thief could have been as renowned as Sword King or Poison King.
But he had chosen neither path.
In my past life, he had died alone in a cave, leaving behind only a ruined martial arts manual from the North Sea Ice Palace and discarded elixirs.
I never knew why he had torn up his own martial arts manual, but I could guess—it was probably to prevent his true techniques from being passed down.
Most martial artists, when facing death, loosen their grip on their knowledge, wanting to leave behind a legacy rather than let it vanish.
That’s how clans are born. That’s how sects are founded.
But Ghost Shadow Thief rejected that idea entirely.
He took pride in his thievery, but he didn’t see it as something worth passing down.
I never asked why.
But to be honest, his footwork intrigued me.
I already had a footwork technique personally designed for me by the Ironblood Hall Leader, one that perfectly complemented my Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art.
Still, that didn’t mean there was no room for improvement.
What intrigued me most was that despite their vastly different intents, his footwork and mine shared a certain profound principle.
If I could combine them…
“Why are you staring at this old man instead of your fiancée?”
“…Nothing important.”
“Cheh. How dull.”
His voice yanked me out of my thoughts.
Despite his casual chuckling, his gaze was firm—like he had drawn a line.
As if he already knew what I was thinking and was shutting it down in advance.
With a bitter smile, I spoke.
“There may not be many left who remember you, Elder, but just in case… it would be best to keep a low profile in Wudang.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t have a habit of robbing the same place twice.”
…What an absurd yet oddly reassuring statement.
As we ascended the stairs to Wudang, I finally voiced something that had been on my mind.
“By the way, about the martial arts you promised me.”
“Ah, you mean the deal we made—you save my life, and I let you take one martial art from my grave? I remember.”
Ghost Shadow Thief nodded nonchalantly.
Tang Sowol, however, widened her eyes.
“…Wait. You made that deal during a fight?! Brother Cheon?!”
“Well, if I’m going to risk my life, I might as well get something out of it.”
“But that’s…!”
Tang Sowol fidgeted, clearly unsure how to phrase her next words.
Before she could speak, Ghost Shadow Thief waved her off.
“It’s fine. Chivalry is admirable, but to me, it would have been a burden. I don’t have much time left—how could I ever repay such a debt?”
“I didn’t do it expecting repayment. We were in danger as well.”
“And yet, because of you two, I survived. If you hadn’t been there, I would have either starved to death in that cave or died fighting assassins.”
Ghost Shadow Thief let out a chuckle, as if speaking of his own death was amusing.
Then, he turned to me.
“So? What martial art do you want? Ideally, I’d take you to my grave and let you choose, but that would expose its location. If you tell me what you need, I’ll retrieve it for you later.”
“Before that, I have a question. Where does Glacial True Qi stand among the martial arts of the North Sea Ice Palace?”
“Ah… Are you looking for a yin-based cultivation technique? I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s considered a superior art, but it’s more of a double-edged sword.”
“A double-edged sword?”
“Yes. Glacial True Qi is the oldest technique of the North Sea Ice Palace. But that also makes it the most unrefined.”
Humans are meant to live in balance between yin and yang.
Men naturally lean toward yang, and women toward yin, but that balance must be maintained.
If the balance is broken, the body collapses.
“But Glacial True Qi ignores that entirely—it only focuses on accumulating the purest form of extreme yin energy.”
Without the freezing conditions of the North Sea, it can’t be properly cultivated. And even if one somehow manages to learn it, the more their inner energy grows, the weaker their body becomes.
“You could cultivate the purest form of yin energy, but unless you’re born with a special constitution like the Extreme Yin Pulse, you’ll start wasting away once you reach the level of a top-class expert.”
“…Pure yin energy?”
“…A special constitution?”
Tang Sowol and I exchanged a very meaningful look.
Seol Lihyang.
Ghost Shadow Thief, unaware of our thoughts, continued explaining.
“On top of that, Glacial True Qi uses pure yin energy itself as a weapon. Think of it like a hard energy technique. Not just anyone can handle it—it’s already a dangerous energy to wield, and this technique manipulates it in large quantities.”
That was why, despite being a symbol of tradition and power in the North Sea Ice Palace, Glacial True Qi was gradually fading into obscurity.
“Several generations ago, the Palace Lord created Glacial White Divine Art, a new and improved yin cultivation technique. That completely overshadowed Glacial True Qi, reducing it to little more than a historical relic.”
That meant Glacial White Divine Art had become the Palace Lord’s secret art, while Glacial True Qi was dismissed as obsolete.
However, if Seol Lihyang were to learn it, none of that would matter.
No matter how pure Glacial True Qi’s yin energy was, it wouldn’t compare to her Pure Yin Physique.
The only real problem was…
“If the North Sea Ice Palace finds out someone is cultivating Glacial True Qi, won’t that cause trouble?”
“Well, it’s rare for someone strong enough to recognize it to leave the North Sea. But even if they did find out, I doubt it would be a problem. The Ice Palace is slowly declining.”
“…Declining?”
“Yes. They’ve been using a technique that absorbs extreme yin energy from one location for centuries. No matter how abundant nature’s energy is, it was bound to run dry eventually.”
“…I see.”
“They’re trying to come up with solutions, but who knows if it’ll work? Either way, if someone outside learns Glacial True Qi, they’d probably recruit them rather than attack them.”
That made sense.
If a martial sect was struggling to preserve its legacy, they wouldn’t be picky about who carried it on.
In that case, there was no reason not to give it to Seol Lihyang.
“I didn’t sneak into their vault and steal it for nothing. If you want a yin cultivation technique, there are other—”
“I’ll take Glacial True Qi.”
“…Did you even listen to a word I just said?”
“There’s no need to consider alternatives. Glacial True Qi it is.”
After my second firm declaration, Ghost Shadow Thief sighed.
“…Fine, fine. But don’t come complaining if it causes problems later, got it?”
“Understood.”
As his grumbling continued, we climbed the final steps.
The Wudang Sect’s plaque loomed before us.
***
“CATCH THAT DAMN THIEF!”
“…Oh.”
I wasn’t expecting them to recognize him instantly.