Chapter 41: In This World, That's What I Do Best
It took exactly three days to reach the main headquarters. We rode horses, while the cradle's kids rode wolves.
Anyone might gasp in shock at the idea of bringing wolves into a residential area full of people, but at the headquarters level, even the maids handling household chores were at least second-rate martial artists. The children there started learning martial arts as soon as they could walk, and most wandered around with escorts anyway, so they were safe enough.
Wolves weren't a threat. Tigers, maybe—but not wolves.
Plus, Cho Ryang's control over them is insane. And he doesn't even know proper martial arts yet.
The alpha wolf followed Cho Ryang like a parent. Thanks to that, his command over the pack was on another level. A simple 'Tsk!' and a scowl would send them whimpering back like scolded pups. It didn't matter if it was the massive wolf he was especially fond of—they all acted the same. Like oversized puppies.
Maybe this kid's in the same league as those other ability users.
In Murim Return, Poison Eye Master—that is, the future Cho Ryang—didn't get much spotlight. He was just a backstory mention by then, and Poison Eye himself had already died by the time the protagonist took center stage. Self-destructed, technically.
The only one who knows this info? Me. Feels pretty solid.
Still, I couldn't shake the dry mouth and mounting tension.
The headquarters was on a whole other level from anywhere I'd been. A place crawling with monsters wearing human skin—that was the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's main base.
The headquarters sprawled up along stairs called the Ascending Heavens Path. Each step was five meters wide, flanked by neatly crafted artificial canals where water bubbled gently.
Halfway up the main peak of the Ten Thousand Great Mountains—which towered endlessly—the headquarters' buildings came into view. Unlike the quaint structures I'd seen before, these radiated undeniable majesty at a glance.
The styles were wildly eclectic, no unified aesthetic. Towering high-rises you wouldn't see in this world stood side by side with single-story buildings. Some were even walled off with metal fences instead of dirt or brick.
It made sense, really. These were the buildings of the Six Demonic Families. Divided into six distinct clans, each with its own wildly unique flair.
The Sado Family might actually be the most 'normal' ones...
No lightning-worshipping maniacs or oil-drinkers here. Just your standard(?) cultist level.
I let my gaze climb the Ascending Heavens Path again. At the barely visible peak sat a grand structure that looked like both a palace and a temple. Eastern and Western styles blended mysteriously without clashing.
The Heavenly Demon Palace.
Home to the Heavenly Demon, sovereign of ten thousand demons and pinnacle of the hundred thousand faithful. A place I'd have to enter someday.
To become the Heavenly Demon? Hell no. The current one was the strongest in the Murim Return world. Sure, there were issues now, but at full power, even the Sword Sage would kneel.
If I challenged her? My throat would be slit before I could blink—dead without knowing what hit me.
No, I needed the Heavenly Demon Palace to survive. Deep inside lay the Heavenly Demon Treasure Vault, stuffed with the cult's treasures. The Black Ox Sword had even been stored there briefly after Dok Ma got it from the Tang Clan.
Anyway, the vault was key to completing my plan. A guy like me—who knew jack about martial arts—had to rely on item cheese to survive in a cult teeming with monsters.
Off the top of my head: boots that let you hover midair, ropes that auto-bind anyone you point at.
My shell was Sado Hwan, but the core was a modern Korean guy. When character stats suck, you grind solutions—that's Korean grit.
At least the silver lining: relations between me—Sado Hwan—and the Heavenly Demon weren't bad.
"We're almost there, Young Master."
Tak Horak spoke up beside me.
"Back home after so long—aren't you happy?"
He grinned ear to ear. For cultists, "home" carried extra weight, so it tracked.
I didn't answer. Just kept walking. No lightness skill, naturally.
On the Ascending Heavens Path, using martial arts was forbidden unless it was war-level stuff. A sign of respect for the Heavenly Demon at the top.
Most ignored it—a quick lightness skill hop took five minutes; walking dragged on over an hour.
But my noblesse oblige persona was ironclad, so no one batted an eye at me trudging up.
After ages on those stairs, I finally set foot in the headquarters proper.
And spotted a few people waiting. Backs to the sun.
Thump.
My heart lurched.
Backlit, their shadows stretched long toward me, writhing ominously like they might devour me whole.
I waited for my eyes to adjust, then looked straight at them.
Amid the group stood one man who dominated the scene.
He wasn't exuding massive pressure. Quite the opposite.
Skinny arms that'd snap like twigs, rough skin, dark circles pooling under faded features. Leaning into a wheelchair. But those eyes burned sharp. An aura that screamed don't you dare underestimate me.
Sado Hwan's brother. The real brain steering the Sado Family.
A face eerily like Sado Hwan's in ten years, expressionless.
The trickiest villain of Murim Return's early-to-mid game.
Sado Gwang in the flesh.
"Mm...?"
"What the...?"
"Shh."
My group stayed cool, but the cradle kids jumped. Quick-witted Cho Ryang shut them down before words slipped out.
Cripple.
Sado Gwang had wrecked his dantian mid-cultivation, couldn't even hold himself up.
In the cult, cripples got dumped in the 6th Demon Realm. Useless.
Power determined rank here. Lose that, you're bottom rung—even if you're prime bloodline.
Yet Sado Gwang held court at headquarters with that broken body. Hell, he ran the Sado Family.
He just stared silently. My throat bobbed involuntarily.
[H-Hyungnim!]
Trapped in the sword, Pa Cheon had no body or expressions. Emotions came through voice alone.
He'd been buzzing with excitement—homecoming hype, hopes of seeing his "revered" big bro.
But I caught it.
The terror in that "hyungnim" cry.
I knew Murim Return's lore cold. Pa Cheon's trauma? No secret.
Decades of gaslighting by Sado Gwang.
"You're nothing without me."
"A weapon's worth is in staying sheathed. Don't step up."
"Your only value is staying hidden. Remember that."
That explained Pa Cheon's flashy-but-shallow vibe. No room to grow mentally—just follow orders down the given path.
Sudden irritation boiled up.
Like, only I get to chew out my squad—outsiders doing it pisses me off. Pa Cheon might be all bluster and a bit dim, but he was my comrade, chasing the same goal. The only one in this world who knew my secret.
That surge hit me with a realization.
Since when was I this scared preemptively?
Since crashing into Murim Return, not a single day without crisis. Constant life-or-death gambles, tightrope walks. I'd beaten a statue whose gang qi barely worked—through tricks, sure.
Point was, I was still breathing.
Sado Gwang was just one more threat in a long line ahead.
...Nah, I'd face bigger ones head-on.
...Kinda depressing, though.
Shook off the gloom. Bottom line: no need to freak now.
Reframed, I saw details tension had blinded me to.
Sado Gwang faced the sun deliberately. Positioned subtly higher. Hard to look straight at.
Familiar tactic.
Pre-set staging for intimidation, gravitas.
Like my high-master acting tricks.
So he's putting on a show right now? Directing, performing?
Made sense. Guy who fabricated the Black Shadow Corps captain—rank 23 bullshit—was Sado Gwang. He'd studied "looking like a master" inside out.
Suddenly, his giant-like presence deflated like a punctured balloon.
Obvious, really.
Staging?
Acting?
In this world, that's what I do best.
At least here.
Sado Gwang was a genius, sure.
Pulling that off sans acting theory or study materials? Impressive.
But I was an actor. A pro.
And back home? Oceans of films, actors, directors to learn from.
Not one genius—but countless, absorbed and mastered.
Like a puppeteer fumbling wrinkles in front of a pro.
Mind eased.
Of course, play along for now. His patience was probably thinning.
[Hyungnim! Greetings are late! I'm back! Spill it quick!]
"Brother. Greetings are late. I'm back."
"......"
Sado Gwang eyed me steadily. Freak out on cue. I played ball.
"S-Sorry. Been so long since home... got emotional."
He flashed a sudden smile.
"Good. You're back. First time out in the jianghu—nothing too rough?"
"All good!"
"Right. Come closer? Let me get a good look."
He beckoned.
I approached. My solid frame—no inner energy needed—versus his wheelchair slump. Natural low-angle for him. His lips twitched slyly.
[What're you doing? Bow already!]
I bowed as Pa Cheon urged. His hand reached out, touching my cheek. Rough as sandpaper—sawdust on skin.
"Face looks rough. Save the rest for later."
Tap.
He patted my cheek. To outsiders? Brotherly affection. The others—even Sa Wol aside—smiled warmly.
[See? Brother's so kind...]
...
Nope.
Warning. Don't cross me.
[Classic Brother. See, demon? Now you get it? He's not who you think!]
Soul-deep gaslit Pa Cheon was still deluded.
Sorry, buddy.
I'm taking Sado Gwang down.
Pretending to Be the Heavenly Demon