A Twisted Fate
Across the endless, lofty highlands of the Western Regions, buried deep within a steep gorge, a blood-reeking palace hid its presence from the world.
This was the Blood Heaven Cult—the very faction the Murim Alliance was currently pouring every last resource into hunting down.
In the vast heart of the Blood Cult’s palace, the Blood Sect Leader stood tall, unusually revealing himself beyond the curtains. Unknown crimson characters were carved into the granite floor. His long robe billowed like a river of blood, and the eyes of the cultists watching his secret art glittered with raw madness.
Atop an altar brimming with the blood of innocent victims, the Blood Sect Leader thrust both hands high.
“Behold—!”
From the pool of blood, the Left Dharma Protector—said to be long dead—rose to his feet with a splash.
“O-ohhh…!”
“The Left Dharma Protector has received the Blood Heaven God’s grace and returned to life!”
“Blood Age Asura Soul! Blood Heaven God descends!”
Blood droplets ran down his entire body. Even his complexion had returned; he looked exactly as he had in life. Yet in those eyes, not a trace remained of the somewhat arrogant intellect he once possessed.
Still the cultists raced to praise the Blood Heaven God’s grace and the Sect Leader’s secret art, screaming their devotion.
“Eternal life…! Join the Blood Cult and enjoy eternal life beneath the Blood Heaven God’s grace—!”
“Uwooooh!”
“Blood Heaven God!”
Every human is born to die—yet the Blood Sect Leader stood and denied that truth outright. And his followers, faces utterly free of doubt, raved like fanatics.
So the secret palace of the Blood Cult became a cauldron of ecstasy and madness. The Sect Leader, satisfied by the sight, smiled faintly beside the Left Dharma Protector who stood as motionless as a corpse.
That was when the Right Dharma Protector, Nachal-gang, approached him clutching someone’s secret missive. For several seconds he stared at the resurrected Left Dharma Protector with emotionless eyes, then reported on external activities.
“How did the matter go?”
At the corpse-pale Sect Leader’s question, the Right Dharma Protector bowed deeply and offered the letter.
“The contact was someone from the Second Prince’s side. From what I heard, it seems Empress Ma Juyeong desires our Blood Cult’s secret arts.”
The Blood Sect Leader read the contents carefully, then—unusually—let his emotions show plainly as he grinned.
“Desires our secret arts, does she…”
His voice was cold and chilling. People who could take anything they wanted—why would they send a secret letter begging help from a cult the Imperial Court had publicly branded as enemies? The Sect Leader felt he already knew the reason.
“The Crown Prince, is it.”
He had heard the man was little better than a living corpse—a jiangshi in all but name. A tragic imperial, kept barely breathing by the palace physicians’ efforts and every expensive spirit medicine money could buy.
“A mother’s heart must be torn to shreds.”
Perhaps because she had suddenly lost her child. Or perhaps because she stood to lose every status and power base she had enjoyed until now. Even so—who would have thought that proud, haughty Empress would come begging them for aid?
When a person is driven to the absolute edge, they will clutch even at straws.
“Look well. No matter how lofty an imperial, before death every one of them is nothing but a scrap of flesh.”
Only the Blood Heaven God could let someone slip past that death.
“Blood Heaven God… is this what You have been waiting for?”
The Sect Leader lifted his head as though gazing into the distant beyond, seeking the Blood Heaven God’s will.
…
Yet that lofty presence remained silent as ever. Even so—good. At last the path he must walk was beginning to show itself clearly.
“Yet it is strange.”
Even amid this joyful turn, recent failures had taught him to tap every stone bridge before crossing.
“What is, my lord?”
“I heard the Empress’s faction still commands formidable strength even after what became of the Crown Prince.”
He had received reports that, against Emperor Hongrak’s unpredictable whims, the Empress was pushing back with Second Prince Ju Gachi as her spearhead. Then the Right Dharma Protector stepped forward and cleared the Sect Leader’s doubt with a single name.
“I suspect it is because of that Dog-Beating Dragon, Dan Mujin. The Empress, too, seems to have been driven into a corner by him.”
Hearing the name of the man who had severed the Left Dharma Protector’s head mentioned even here, the Blood Sect Leader laughed with a look of sheer absurdity.
“Truly twisted.”
At this point it was no exaggeration to call it a warped destiny. In Shaanxi, where the great work had nearly succeeded. On the cliffs of Liaoning, where they had sought to secure the Heavenly Killing Star. Even at the Jin family’s pearl estate where they had been manufacturing jiangshi. Every place their schemes stretched, that man had burst out of nowhere and ruined everything beyond expectation.
So the Empress’s faction, too, had been tormented by that troubleshooter named Dan Mujin.
“Strange… and grotesque.”
The Blood Sect Leader crumpled the missive from the Second Prince’s confidant in one vicious fist. Then he quietly fixed his gaze toward the direction of the Imperial Palace.
“We shall make use of the Empress’s house, Right Dharma Protector.”
The enemy of one’s enemy could be a friend—for a little while, at least. The Empress surely planned to use them as limbs and discard them the moment they lost value. But the Blood Heaven Cult was not a piece so easily moved like a chessman.
“Prepare the Great Method.”
“Yes, Blood Sect Leader.”
In the Blood Cult, death was merely another beginning. For now they had withdrawn to the fringes of the Western Regions—but one day they would return to the Central Plains and spread His greatness far and wide.
Crumpling the letter, he renewed that vow in his heart.
“So you’re saying that, of all people, the Director of the Eastern Depot kidnapped that courtesan, Young Hero…?”
Uncle Park Chil’s reaction made it plain he found the story hard to believe. I nodded at the question from the man who had recently become a Fifth-Rank Disciple of the Beggar Sect. Park Chil let out a long lament that the morals of the Central Plains had truly hit rock bottom.
“And then Cheon Su-gong stepped in to clean it up. Looks like some kind of deal was struck.”
I had only been able to track Ju Wolay’s movements thanks to the Beggar Sect disciples in the first place, so I freely shared whatever palace information I had with him. Unlike the Haomu Gate, the Beggar Sect was still in the middle of building its information network around the Imperial Palace.
“Hah… that the young courtesan lady happened to place her request with you was truly a stroke of divine luck.”
“Tell me about it.”
She had probably just called me to try and seduce me, yet it turned out the troubleshooter with the strongest connections to the Imperial Palace was none other than me.
Still… the more I talked with this uncle, the more I felt he might actually be a good fit for our work. Mid-thirties, just the right age—stable presence in an office packed with green young punks. And since I was planning to expand the office, I needed more manpower. The only question was who I would have to ask if I wanted to poach him. Hwang Geolgae, who had chucked the Dragon Head Sect Leader post and bolted? Or the Beggar Sect Elder who was practically running the place in his place?
“But Young Hero, didn’t you say earlier there was one more matter besides that?”
I could ask whoever later and figure it out. In answer to his question I pulled a tightly rolled painting from my robes. It was a beauty portrait that had been in the middle of being painted with luxurious tools when I visited Master Painter Neung Jinsam’s mansion last time. After persuading Neung Jinsam to set down his brush, I had torn this one piece free and tucked it into my chest.
“Isn’t this the painting that caused all the trouble…? Why do you have it?”
“Any chance you’ve bought a lot of these, or someone recently said they wanted to sell?”
“Oh, there is. Until recently the painter was churning them out like a madman, so the price climb finally stopped.”
Investors sitting on piles of inventory always get nervous the moment the eternal price rise they believed in grinds to a halt. That is when the phrase “take profits” starts dancing in front of their eyes. And I intended to buy those goods with the money I had once received from the Imperial Noble Consort Hwang.
“But why? The price is still considerable even now.”
“I’ve got some premium information only I know.”
Soon enough Neung Jinsam would drop the beauty portraits and go back to painting the animals he originally preferred. Those paintings had almost no demand, so it was effectively the same as retirement. And painting prices always skyrocket the moment a painter retires or dies.
“So who is this person sitting on a pile of inventory and wanting to sell?”
“Gam Un, the head of the Wandering Swordsmen Association. Still, you must have made a tidy sum from this recent job. You’re a ruthless one, aren’t you.”
True to his beggar origins, Park Chil marveled that I scraped money together with such vicious dedication.
“I didn’t actually get paid anything for this one.”
Even though I had helped Cheonhwaru—said to be overflowing with cash—and Ju Wolay, who was already rich enough on her own, I had received no proper reward. From the look of it Ju Wolay had intended to gift me “herself.” When I refused, the whole matter floated up into the air. And after making such a cool rejection, I could hardly crawl back and ask if she would mind just giving me money instead. This man Dan Mujin had his pride, after all.
So I planned to collect my own wages for the work I had done—taking a bit of advantage of Ju Wolay and Neung Jinsam, whom I had helped without limit until now.
“Anyway, thank you. See you again soon, Uncle Park Chil.”
Ever since the Murim Alliance in Shaanxi, this was the man who had freely given me advice that I must never become someone like the previous Dragon Head Sect Leader. I bid him farewell and headed off to visit Association Head Gam Un for the first time in a long while.
He still seemed to be living well, wielding the power of commission brokerage among the sword-for-hire wanderers. A middle-aged man with streaks of gray and a long scar. The moment he saw my face and heard the offer I laid out, he wore an expression of sheer disbelief.
“I’ve heard you’re doing well these days as a troubleshooter… but you’re saying you’ll buy these expensive things?”
Claiming each was worth a whole gold ingot, Association Head Gam Un set several paintings in front of me. As a business owner planted right in the middle of Beijing’s bustling district, he clearly moved large sums of money—he owned no fewer than seven beauty portraits.
Thud.
When I set a dull-yellow gold ingot and a heavy gold purse on the table, his eyes went round as saucers.
“Where in the world did this money come from?”
The little kid who used to work under him had grown up and was now pulling out this much cash right in front of him. He looked floored.
“If you won’t sell, I’ll go somewhere else.”
I had no idea why the question of how I got the money kept popping out when the cash was sitting right there. When I acted like I was about to leave that very second, he gasped and grabbed my arm.
“No need to rush. Who said I wouldn’t sell? I was just a little surprised.”
The rate of price increase had been slowing little by little until it suddenly flatlined, so of course he had been nervous. The urge to cash out must have been swelling hard.
“Here you go. Take them all.”
He handed over the paintings and raked the gold ingot and coins into his arms with both hands. A blissful smile spread across Association Head Gam Un’s face at the solid weight of gold in his robes.
“Then I’ll be going—”
But then he scratched his long scar, as though some premonition had struck him.
“W-wait a moment.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“I’ve got an ominous feeling. Like I’m going to regret this a little…”
So that famous gut instinct of his had kicked in. Back when he ignored it and still gave us the job, Ilhong and I had suffered plenty. Neung Jinsam had gotten tangled up in everything because of this guy, too.
“No returns after sale. See you.”
I unfolded Whirlwind Steps like a single streak of wind and slipped out of the Wandering Swordsmen Association building like a ghost.
Five days later, rumors that Master Painter Neung Jinsam had retired spread all over Beijing.
He would no longer paint the pictures people wanted; from now on he would paint only animal pictures for himself. At the news that the supply had been cut off, those who went crazy for such things scrambled over one another to secure paintings, driving the prices sky-high.
At a certain point I decided the moment had come, gathered the paintings, and went to find Eun Hwaran. As a merchant group leader sharp about both rumors and profitable talk, she recognized the value of what I handed her at once and looked mildly surprised.
“I bought them a little while ago. I knew Neung Jinsam was going to retire.”
Anyone else might have said, “Isn’t that a bit underhanded?” But as a merchant she simply wore an expression of pleasant surprise.
“My, I never even taught you… so our little brother knows how to do business?”
Massive profit realization, plus my sworn sister’s proud praise, came as a free bonus. After I paid her only a small middleman’s fee and ballooned the original money even larger, the office subordinates started asking what on earth I planned to do with all that cash.
“What are you gonna do with this, Boss?”
“Luxury and debauchery? You’re not that kind of guy, right, Mujin?”
The moment big money appears, everyone starts fretting about that first. But I was simply taking steady steps toward my dream.
“I’m buying land next to the Wandering Swordsmen Association building and putting up my own place of business.”
Back in my wandering swordsman days, watching Association Head Gam Un sink a fortune into a prime Beijing location and spend his later years in comfort—how I had envied him. So I had sworn I would plant a business of my own right in the heart of the city, bold as brass.
I also remembered how Ilhong had listed various methods, warning that even if I built a place there it would all be for nothing if no customers came.
“When he sees the building go up, Association Head Gam Un is going to get a real stomachache.”
Jo Harang, who knew his temperament well from her days as a Beijing wanderer, snorted a laugh.
“This noona is all for it. That place out on the outskirts was too far from the Eunseong Merchant Group—I always found that a shame.”
And once we moved into the core district, we would no longer have to deal with the smell of burning wood or get tangled up with the low-quality unorthodox types nearby.
“But Boss… that spot where you’re planning the new office is really close to Cheonhwaru too, isn’t it…?”
Ilhong looked at me with slightly complicated eyes, pointing out that it was even closer than the Eunseong Merchant Group.
“Misunderstanding. Total misunderstanding.”
I waved both hands to show it was nothing like that. Ilhong and Jo Harang narrowed their eyes at me.
“I ran into Ju Wolay the other day. She bragged that she received the Boss’s ‘first confession’ in her bedchamber… Care to explain that?”
“…”
It was true I had revealed my circumstances that made it impossible for me to grow close to anyone, and it was true that place had been Ju Wolay’s bedchamber. But why did she have to explain it like that?
“Well then, shall we head for the heart of Beijing?”
I hastily changed the subject and left the Eunseong Merchant Group.
“Eek! I said explain yourself!”
An enraged Ilhong stuck right on my heels.