Chapter 23: Summoning the Black Shadow Corps
“Yes.”
Sa Wol didn’t ask questions or argue. Tools didn’t speak. The blankness in her eyes came from being remade into a combat machine over the course of her life.
Swoosh—
Sa Wol vanished like a shadow, reappearing in the blind spot diagonally behind Kwak Jeong. Her dagger was already aimed at the back of his neck.
“What!?”
Kwak Jeong whipped around in utter panic. Was he a Peak realm expert in his own right? He reacted in that split second, swinging his golden fingers to strike Sa Wol’s wrist. But she twisted her wrist mid-motion, altering the dagger’s path. Her blade slithered upward like a snake climbing a tree.
“Die!”
As the dagger lunged for his throat again, Kwak Jeong kicked the floor hard from his seated position on the chair. The seat slid back like it was on ice, creating space between them. He sprang up like a coiled spring. His bulky frame moved with surprising flexibility.
Wooong—!
A red aura began to flicker around Kwak Jeong’s hands. He was channeling his qi in earnest now, forming palm force.
“Sneaking up like a coward! This is why you Sado bastards—”
Kwak Jeong couldn’t finish. Sa Wol closed in with blinding speed, her dagger surging from below upward. From his view, it must have felt like the blade erupted from under his chin.
He ground his teeth and crossed his arms in an X, swinging them outward.
Clang—!
Flesh met metal, yet the clash rang out like iron on iron. The qi shockwave made the teacups on the table rattle on their own. Kwak Jeong’s palm force had repelled Sa Wol’s blade. But that single exchange decided their superiority.
Kwak Jeong staggered back five steps, his back slamming against the wall. Sa Wol, meanwhile, spun gracefully in place like an acrobat, dissipating the force without moving an inch.
A gap of five steps. That was how much he lacked in power and skill. To true Peak experts and beyond, it was an unbridgeable chasm.
Impressive as expected.
The head of a Heavenly Demon Divine Cult branch had to be strong in martial arts, of course. And Sa Wol was overwhelming him without even breaking a sweat.
“What’s going on in there?!”
The guards outside must have heard the commotion. Kwak Jeong’s face drained of color at their voices. Not everyone in this branch was from the cult. In fact, to maintain secrecy, cultists were the minority—most were ordinary folk.
Even as the head of the manor, if his cult ties were exposed, he’d be branded a public enemy of the martial world on the spot.
“Nothing’s wrong!”
“Are you sure you’re all right, sir?”
“Of course. I just spilled my tea!”
“Shall we send in a servant to—”
“No need. I’ll clean it up myself!”
“Understood.”
The guards crowding the door dispersed.
“Have you lost your mind!? Do you want us all to die?!”
Kwak Jeong snapped at me.
I ignored him and spoke softly to Sa Wol. I was the madman here, after all.
“Did I tell you to stop? Cut him down.”
Sa Wol moved instantly. Her Nine Swamps Ghost Step unfolded. Kwak Jeong’s face twisted in confusion at her jerky, segmented movements—like the ghost from Whispering Corridors.
“Hup!”
He couldn’t shout aloud and kept retreating. His sleeves were already shredded from repeated slashes. Soon, the tip of Sa Wol’s dagger grazed his right forearm.
“Kuh!”
Pain and bleeding shattered his focus. The end was near. Sa Wol’s blade slipped between his frantic arms, heading straight for his Adam’s apple.
And right then.
“Stop.”
Sa Wol’s arm froze. At the Peak realm, one could control their body with machine-like precision. She was no exception.
The dagger’s tip pressed right against Kwak Jeong’s throat. A single trickle of blood ran down. A bit more pressure, and it would be a fountain.
I continued from my seat, not even glancing at him. As if he wasn’t worth my attention.
I was the madman now. A normal person might call him “arrogant,” but that was just average martial world talk. I had to go further.
Do something only a true lunatic would.
“So you are from the demonic cult.”
“……?”
Absurdity crossed Kwak Jeong’s face at my words. Sa Wol flinched too, but she let it slide—I’d dropped “demonic cult” hints before. That’s why laying groundwork mattered. My early buildup let her overlook it.
“That gloomy red palm force. Must be the Red Wind Palm from one of the Demonic Six Families, the Nine Yin Kwak Family.”
—What madness is this? You think you’ll get away with it?!
He couldn’t shout, so a transmission flew at me.
I pulled two plaques from my robe: the Kunlun plaque and the Small Tang plaque. I tossed the sect symbols onto the table.
Kwak Jeong’s eyes nearly bulged out. A cult warrior holding orthodox sect plaques? No wonder.
“What if I tell Un Yeop Ja and Dang Si Hyeok about this mess?”
—You traitor! Betraying the cult?!
“Silver Tile Branch of Cheonghae. Taeseong Pavilion of Hobuk. Muyeon Manor of Henan. Huahwa Tower of Shaanxi.”
I listed locations. All secret cult branches.
Of course.
—You… how…
They were all managed by the Nine Yin Kwak Family. The cult was a massive network of dots, so a Sado Family affiliate like me shouldn’t know. But I was just a shell of Sado Hwan.
Would a Murim Return veteran forget faction layouts?
—Expose that, and you won’t survive either, Sado Hwan!
“Who will the martial world believe? The plaque owner? Or you?”
—You’re really betraying us?!
“Betraying?”
I smirked, as obnoxiously and insanely as possible.
“No idea what you’re talking about. Me, the Eastern Sword Dragon, betray who?”
Color drained from Kwak Jeong’s face, then flushed red and pale by turns.
I stood, subtly shaking the black ox hair needle behind my back. The precisely aimed lung poison rode his breath inward. He’d normally control it, but not with a blade at his throat.
I focused qi into my eyes, sharpening my gaze, and advanced. Kwak Jeong flinched at the sight.
“Sheathe the blade.”
Sa Wol withdrew the dagger from his throat. Though free, Kwak Jeong didn’t dare move.
My piercing gaze and the lung poison suppressing his qi.
Together, it felt like I was radiating overwhelming killing intent. He sweated coldly, swallowing repeatedly. Even Sa Wol looked shocked. Fair enough—no effect on her at this range.
Half of acting was staging.
Finally, I reached him and whispered in his ear, low and sticky, like a total psycho.
“Hand you over to Kunlun like this? Heh, that’d be fun, right?”
“……”
“Betrayal? By cult law, eliminating rivals—what’s the problem?”
Twisted logic. But true. The cult preached strength supremacy, giving the weak infinite chances. Topple the strong by any means? Good job. The victim’s the fool. That was the cult.
“What… what do you want?”
Kwak Jeong swallowed hard.
“Watch your tone.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Do about what?”
“What must I do… to earn your forgiveness?”
“Lately, I’ve taken up collecting plaques.”
I said it warmly, smiling.
“The Silver Tile Branch plaque. Hand it over.”
Can’t be helped. I need the money.
You can’t buy happiness with money, but you can avoid misery.
Born tightwad Pa Cheon wouldn’t get it. Sure enough, more nonsense.
We’ll see.
No matter how rich the Sado Family, personal loans had limits. Unlike Kwak Family’s iron-fisted patriarch, Sado operated on checks and balances between head and elders. No blank checks.
And that brother… no, he’s the biggest problem.
Pa Cheon’s brother. Sado Gwang.
Thinking of him made me shudder. He wasn’t overwhelmingly strong to threaten the Heavenly Demon—hell, I could beat him now. That’s what made him terrifying.
Biggest reason I don’t want to go back to the cult.
Sado Gwang wasn’t someone you could just call “brother.” Facing the Heavenly Demon might be less stressful.
Of course, with solid prep, it’d be fine.
Prep that needed massive cash.
Guess returning to the cult gets delayed.
Too risky relying on just Pa Cheon and the black ox hair. The cult crawled with real crazies.
Moments later.
Kwak Jeong returned, holding a small silver plaque etched with a toad relief at the top.
“……The Silver Tile Branch plaque. Only one per branch head.”
“How many total?”
“Around thirty, as far as I know.”
In modern terms, a VVIP pass for one of thirty elite bank clients. With it, funds flowed freely. Kwak Jeong as guarantor. Money gained, leash on him. Two birds, one stone.
“Still thinking of reporting to headquarters for punishment?”
“Of course not.”
He waved it off.
“I’ll report to headquarters myself. Keep Kwak Family out.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Good. I’m off.”
As we slipped out of the manor, Sa Wol asked.
“If a messenger pigeon flies in, should I intercept?”
Fair question from her view. Cultists didn’t sit idle with a leash. Hands tied? Use feet. Feet bound? Teeth.
Kwak Jeong too. After this humiliation? He’d report with venom.
That’s what I wanted.
No matter how malicious, scrutiny would reveal he got crushed. Spreading that I wasn’t to be trifled with—via his mouth.
“No. Let it fly.”
Half of acting was staging.
For dramatic flair, I’d set the stage from outside the cult.
“Summon the Black Shadow Corps. We have a place to go.”