39. Pearl Buried in the Mussel
I've never been to Kilimanjaro.
But if I ever laid eyes on it, I figured it might look something like this.
The towering peak stabbed toward the heavens, piercing through the clouds without revealing its summit. The eternal snow blanketing the upper slopes glittered wildly under the sunlight.
If I followed the river upstream with my gaze, I could see clusters of houses dotting the mountainside below. They appeared haphazard at first glance, but gave off a cozy, lived-in vibe—like a real neighborhood. In other words, it was a peaceful, exotic scene utterly unlike the grim image that came to mind when one thought of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
Hell, it even felt kinda healing.
"Home!"
"We're back!"
I could see the Black Shadow Corps members' flushed, excited faces. Even Sa Wol had a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Cultists spent their entire lives hiding away in these Ten Thousand Great Mountains. The moment they stepped out, persecution began, so they always had to conceal their identities. That made "home" carry far more weight for them.
Pa Cheon, however, was sulking.
[We've finally returned, yet my body's been swapped...]
'Don't worry. I'll find a way to switch us back somehow.'
[Not entirely reassuring, but...]
'This is for my sake, not yours.'
[In that case, I'll trust you.]
Seriously, what a smooth talker.
Watching everyone chatter about home made me miss mine too. Even if it was a dingy basement rental with mold in the bathroom, it was the comfiest place to crash.
'Don't go soft, Kim Dong Yun.'
This was home to them, but to me, it was a den of demons.
"Y-Young master."
Hwang So Gun clambered over from the lead boat. I ignored him.
"Black Shadow Captain?"
Only then did I glance his way.
"What is it?"
"We'll arrive in about one shichen."
"Good work."
"So, about that... the fare."
Hwang So Gun put on a pitiful expression, but he couldn't hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth. His eyes kept flicking toward Sa Wol, that signature greedy glint flashing through them.
...You're doing it all wrong.
"Sa Wol."
I called her over. As my bodyguard and de facto secretary, she produced a prepared pouch stuffed with silver taels.
There were many ways into the Cult, but the fastest and safest was by boat up the river—which meant paying up. Having to pay just to come home.
Of course, since only high-ranking Cultists used this route, it wasn't a big deal for them.
Anyway.
I couldn't not pay; Cult law demanded it. But handing it over plainly? No way.
— Sa Wol.
She flinched at my telepathic message but quickly composed herself. No one but me noticed. Made sense—I'd never used telepathy around her before.
Actually, it was fake telepathy. Back in that ruin where I got Blink, I'd obtained a treasure artifact called the Puppet Technique from Jo Yang. The Puppet Technique turns people into will-less puppets when using its great law, but it also has the effect of 'transmitting intent to anyone who's heard the flute sound at least once.'
And last night in the fog, I'd blown the flute. Not that I knew how to play. Just made some random noises. Pa Cheon, music expert that he was, called it "pitiful," but I hadn't grabbed it for tunes.
Thanks to that, Sa Wol could hear my voice.
— Infuse it with qi and toss it.
She hurled the pouch at Hwang So Gun. He freaked at the ferocious velocity and mustered his qi to catch it.
Thud—
He staggered back several steps, his footprints gouging the deck.
"A word of advice."
I approached him.
"When coveting something from someone stronger than you, make sure you have the qualifications. Otherwise..."
I trailed off, just channeling qi to my eyes for a piercing glare.
That alone had him gulping, nodding frantically without a word.
See? This is how you act. Sure, I'd lose in a straight fight in seconds, but he was frozen stiff.
Hwang So Gun scrambled back to the lead boat.
[Filthy monster.]
'What now.'
[Splendid. That was pure Cultist talk.]
'...'
So, psycho vibes?
Glancing back, Sa Wol looked oddly flushed.
"Must feel good to be home."
I tossed it out lightly. Her face snapped back to neutral. Gee, way to make the speaker feel awkward.
Come to think of it, jokes from the boss aren't always welcome.
...Did I just pull some asshole move?
As dusk began to fall,
the boat reached the dock.
Unlike the raucous lead boat—like a real pirate ship—ours was quiet. But the vibe was subtly electric.
"Disembark."
The Black Shadow Corps hopped off lightly at my order. Naturally, I used a plank.
The dock bustled like any harbor, people rushing everywhere.
But their faces bore exhaustion, defeat, despair. Some looked sickly, others scarred, a few even in leg irons.
Far from that peaceful first impression. It had to be this way.
'The 6th Demon Realm...'
This was the 6th—where the Cult's sinners, criminals, and rejects scraped by at the very bottom.
So that's why.
Spotting us, they froze in place and prostrated toward the ground.
Like slaves before nobility.
Not that it bothered me. This Murim Returner world had its own rules.
Still.
'You crawled up from here.'
Made Sa Wol all the more impressive.
From this den of despair, she'd clawed her way to headquarters.
A testament to her extraordinary talent.
"Captain."
Tak Horak approached, wrinkling his nose at the stench.
"Let's head straight to the 5th Demon Realm zone. It's two more days to HQ anyway, and sunset's coming."
Kilimanjaro—or rather, Ten Thousand Great Mountains—being visible didn't mean we were close. The range was massive; two days' ride remained.
"No."
I said.
"We're staying here tonight."
"Here?!"
Confusion rippled through the Corps. Most hailed from the 4th or higher, so they loathed this place.
"Not everyone needs to stay, of course. No room anyway. So."
I continued.
"Sa Wol, Tak Horak. You two bunk with me. The rest, head to HQ and stand by."
"Captain?"
Tak Horak sweated bullets beside me, but I ignored him.
Even subordinates had boundaries. Alone with Sa Wol? Awkward.
"I'll handle the report, so don't send one. Just say we've returned home."
"Captain?"
"Squad leader takes charge. Move out."
"Captaaaain?"
"Yes, sir!"
The Black Shadow Corps vanished like the wind.
Tak Horak looked utterly doomed.
"I'll cut three days off your Punishment Cave time."
His face eased a bit. He really hated that place.
[Why stay in this filthy dump?]
Pa Cheon grumbled. As scion of one of the Six Demonic Families—Cult nobility—this bottom rung repulsed him.
'Reason enough.'
I hated it too. Filth everywhere, dead-eyed zombies shuffling about. But I had plans.
[What reason could justify lingering here?]
'Gotta find someone.'
[Someone? A monster like you knowing a Cultist? You've never even been here. Let alone the 6th?]
The 6th was ignored even by the Cult. Deaths or brawls here? HQ didn't care.
'...Too complicated. Just roll with it.'
Anyway, I needed to find one person here.
In Murim Returner's original story, a villain-joiner still lurked unknown—like a pearl buried in a mussel.
Not about scouting ahead or whatever...
'Better to snag him for my side than let those bastards have him. He's gotta be useful.'
Problem: I knew he was here somewhere, but not where in this vast 6th.
Hence Sa Wol. 6th native—human GPS!
"Sa Wol. Heard there's a place for kids with nowhere to go. You know it?"
"The 'Cradle,' you mean?"
I nodded.
The 6th was lawless Cult fringe, ruled by might alone. Kids suffered most—weak, exploited, bullied constantly.
The 'Cradle' was their self-defense gang against adults. My target was there.
"Guide us."
"They move irregularly, so we can't go straight there."
"Can't, huh."
Tricky.
Made sense—Murim Returner just mentioned it, no location.
"A few days' leeway, and I could track a base."
Staying here instead of HQ was already deviant; couldn't spare days. Better handle quick and quiet.
"You know frequent spots, though?"
"Yes. A few villages are likely."
"Check those."
6th paths were too narrow and rough for carts, so we walked. Dodging street filth was torture. Looked healing from afar, but up close? Nah.
"Ugh, this hood reeks as bad as ever."
Tak Horak muttered. Curiosity struck.
"Where you from?"
"1st Demon Realm, hehe."
1st—near-HQ elite zone. Fit his clan's pull, though not Six Families tier. Still, a doofus like him from there?
I stared. He tilted his head: 'Something on my face?'
"Nothing."
Ten minutes past Dock Village, the path thinned to near-mountain trail. No bandit event—Cult had few crazies for that.
Another half-hour, and a decent-sized village appeared, lively with market day. Better off than the docks, at least.
I told Sa Wol and Tak Horak,
"If anyone approaches me, don't block. Let it flow naturally. Got it?"
"Pardon? What do you—"
"Just understand."
I strode ahead. People spotted our weapons, bowed, and cleared the way. Then—
Thud!
"S-Sorry!"
Someone crashed into me. A kid about ten tumbled to the dirt.
"You little shit! How dare you to his—"
Sa Wol blocked Tak Horak. She got it.
I knelt by the kid.
"You okay?"
"S-Sorry."
"It's fine. Hurt anywhere?"
The kid blushed.
"N-No... I'm good."
"Alright. Off you go."
"Thank you!"
He bolted.
I dusted my knee.
"You alright, Captain? I'll fetch his right arm. The nerve!"
Tak Horak raged.
In the Cult, that warranted death.
"Of course not."
"You must be fine, but... huh?"
I flashed my belt.
"He pickpocketed my pouch."
This was cliché-ridden Murim Returner.
Bump a kid in the market?
Wallet's gone. Classic.
I'd let it happen on purpose.
"Sa Wol. Track the kid."
Can't find the Cradle? Make 'em come to me.