Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 31
>Chapter Title: Fortuitous Encounter (2)
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The spirit Gui So-ha, possessing the report keeper Yang Mu-won’s leader, was diligently carrying stone debris and cleaning up.
He had to erase all traces of what had happened here as much as possible.
Throughout this menial labor, a smile never left Gui So-ha’s lips.
Not only had his realm elevated another level, but he’d even gained a temporary physical body and free time to boot.
And that was in this repository overflowing with a vast array of martial manuals.
“Heh heh heh.”
Even as a wandering soul, Gui So-ha had been a martial artist down to his roots.
Before death, he’d naturally aimed for the highest realms, so this place brimming with manuals was no different from paradise.
As he tidied the small chamber marked with a red line, Gui So-ha’s gaze fell on an empty bookshelf shelf with only a single wooden box sitting alone.
‘Hmm. I wonder what it is.’
The wooden box contained the scroll sealing the spirit beast.
The box said to be made of Immortal Spirit Wood.
Strangely, it had been shattered into ash, yet it had returned to its original state.
‘Is it truly the power of an immortal?’
Gui So-ha, Mok Kyung-un, and Cheong-ryeong had all witnessed the broken and decayed item revert to pristine condition.
It happened just as Mok Kyung-un clutched the scroll, pondering what to do.
Like time rewinding, the surrounding powder gathered, forming the box’s shape until it restored itself completely.
‘Truly wondrous.’
Even Gui So-ha, a wandering soul, found the power eerie.
One could say it transcended the realm of sorcery.
Thanks to that, Mok Kyung-un, who’d been agonizing over it, ordered Gui So-ha to stay here for a while and guard the wooden box.
[Hmm. Looks like I’ll have to leave it here for now.]
[Won’t you take it?]
[No. It might cause trouble if I consume it.]
[······.]
[I’m kidding.]
He knew it wasn’t a joke.
His master loved consuming such things.
[Anyway, we shouldn’t touch it right now. If anyone comes in here and tampers with or searches for the wooden box, let me know.]
[Yes! Master!]
Mok Kyung-un was curious about whoever had left the sealed wooden box here.
Why leave something so dangerous behind?
He’d likely find out while guarding it as ordered.
Whether that tanuki spirit beast’s mentioned Three-Eyes would appear or not.
* * *
Late at night in the Heaven-Earth Association’s inner fortress.
In the garden of a grand manor located in the southwest of the fortress, a sharp-featured, diminutive middle-aged man stood with hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the moon.
As he lost himself in sentiment, a cough sounded from behind him.
“Ahem.”
The diminutive middle-aged man turned as if he’d known it was coming.
He clasped his hands and bowed in formal greeting.
“Ahhh. To think one of the Five Kings, the Thunderbolt Fist King, would grace this humble abode. I’m at a loss.”
The man he greeted appeared in his mid-fifties, his sleeves empty, his muscular arms adorned with strangely shaped iron rings, a mustache gracing his face.
The middle-aged man was Won Byeong-hak, the Thunderbolt Fist King, one of the Heaven-Earth Association’s highest-ranking executives, the Five Kings.
Won Byeong-hak returned the fist-and-bow salute and spoke.
“It’s been a while. Dark Sect Leader.”
The identity of the diminutive middle-aged man was the Dark Sect Leader.
One rank below the Five Kings but still among the association’s upper echelons as one of the Three Sect Leaders.
Unlike the other sect leaders, his name was classified, so everyone called him by his title, Dark Sect Leader.
“Oh ho ho. It’s been ages since the conference two months ago.”
At the Dark Sect Leader’s flirtatious tone, Thunderbolt Fist King Won Byeong-hak subtly grimaced, unaccustomed as ever.
His manner of speech never failed to unsettle.
It evoked a eunuch from the imperial palace, laced with feminine inflections that sometimes bordered on unpleasant.
‘Truly a peculiar fellow.’
Even the face before him now wasn’t real.
It was a human skin mask.
A human skin mask was a thin guise crafted from human or pig skin, nearly indistinguishable from a real face.
The Dark Sect Leader was the only one in the inner fortress permitted such a mask.
‘Even handling espionage and secrets...’
Was there really need to hide his true face from them too?
The Dark Sect Leader changed his mask every three months or so, and only the Society Lord knew his real face, or so it was said.
‘Sigh.’
At any rate, his true face wasn’t the issue.
Thunderbolt Fist King Won Byeong-hak said,
“Dark Sect Leader, I apologize first for intruding so late at night.”
“No need. I heard you visited a couple times while I was away. How could I hold it against you? I should be the one sorry.”
“Your kind words humble me.”
“Oh ho ho. So, may I ask the reason for visiting so late?”
“Of course. Truth be told, this request might be even ruder than the late visit, so I brought this as a bribe of sorts.”
Thunderbolt Fist King Won Byeong-hak held up the white liquor bottle in his hand.
The Dark Sect Leader asked, puzzled,
“What might that be?”
“This is Jangwon Hong aged for twenty-five years.”
“Oh ho. Truly?”
Jangwon Hong.
One of the Shaoxing wines, called a famed brew alongside Daughter Red.
The longer aged, the deeper the aroma and richer the flavor—a liquor for celebrating special occasions.
The Dark Sect Leader received the bottle graciously and said,
“I wonder if I may accept this.”
“It’s a bribe I brought, so of course. I drank Daughter Red at my daughter’s betrothal, and after much thought, brought this Jangwon Hong.”
Jangwon Hong was buried when a son was born, then unearthed when he came of age—for exams, top scholar rank, or wedding—to share with kin and friends.
But Thunderbolt Fist King Won Byeong-hak had no son.
He’d buried Daughter Red and this before his daughter’s birth twenty-five years ago, pondering when to drink it, until he recalled the Dark Sect Leader’s fondness for aged liquor.
“To bring something so precious you’d cherished, Thunderbolt Fist King—I haven’t heard the request yet, but it’ll be hard to refuse.”
“It may be rude, but it might not be a great burden for you, Dark Sect Leader.”
“If it’s not a great burden?”
-Clap!
Thunderbolt Fist King Won Byeong-hak bowed with clasped fists, politely saying,
“I know it’s presumptuous, but after tomorrow’s final Blood Test Valley trial and the disciple selection ceremony, if there’s a candidate from the Secret Scripture Hall, I’d ask you yield them.”
“Secret Scripture Hall?”
“Yes. It’s a child I’ve had my eye on for some time, hence this rude late-night visit.”
That was Thunderbolt Fist King Won Byeong-hak’s request.
At tomorrow’s disciple selection ceremony, executives could choose disciples who passed the final trial under their wing.
Won Byeong-hak had already marked a Secret Scripture Hall cadet.
The Dark Sect Leader said,
“You speak before the results are even out, so they must be quite the talent.”
“A promising one.”
‘They possess the aptitude to master the True Thunderbolt Fist.’
He already had one disciple.
But that disciple failed to complete the final stance of True Thunderbolt Fist, crippling his right arm.
His signature technique was that demanding.
‘So you’ve been making the rounds with other executives attending Blood Test Valley tomorrow.’
In truth, the Dark Sect Leader had somewhat anticipated his purpose.
Handling spies and agents, the Dark Sect constantly monitored the fortress, so he’d guessed he was seeking favors for the ceremony.
And his guess proved right.
‘I see. So that’s it.’
But he didn’t show it.
Letting on that he tracked his movements would only offend the Thunderbolt Fist King.
“I know it’s an impertinent request, but...”
“No. After receiving such fine liquor, how could I refuse the Thunderbolt Fist King?”
“Oh? You can do that?”
“Of course. Oh ho ho.”
At the Dark Sect Leader’s coquettish laugh, the Thunderbolt Fist King lightly bowed in thanks.
He coveted that talent greatly.
Then the Dark Sect Leader said to him,
“That said, if it’s not too rude, might I also make a request of the Thunderbolt Fist King while we’re at it?”
“A request?”
“Your choice is singular, so it should be fine, but I mention it early in case your mind changes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yes. There’s one talent I also desire. I plan to attend tomorrow’s ceremony to take them as disciple.”
Thunderbolt Fist King Won Byeong-hak nodded at his words.
He’d expected as much.
The Dark Sect Leader had never attended despite multiple chances.
Participating now meant...
“Perhaps that child? From Moth Flower Hall...”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Ahhh. As I thought.”
His hunch was correct.
Moth Flower Hall was once called one of the Four Great Assassins Groups.
Rumors of a girl of immense talent from there entering Blood Test Valley’s trials had spread even among executives.
“No worries there. I seek only a boy with a body suited to properly embodying Thunderbolt Fist.”
“Oh ho ho. Thank you—and it eases my mind.”
-Clap clap
The Dark Sect Leader clapped like a lady.
His voice so androgynous that Thunderbolt Fist King Won Byeong-hak inwardly wondered if he might be a woman.
She excelled in talent, but deliberately choosing a girl made it seem likelier.
Yet he hesitated to mention it.
That terrifying woman also coveted Moth Flower Hall’s girl.
* * *
Moth Flower Hall’s Mo Ha-rang slightly furrowed her brow.
Her right ear had suddenly started itching faintly. If this weren’t Mok Kyung-un’s room, she’d have jammed a finger in to scratch it.
“Your expression looks like your ear’s itching.”
“······.”
She flinched inwardly at his words but tried not to show it.
He always read others’ innermost thoughts astoundingly well.
But why summon her suddenly?
Late at night, no less.
Surely not because of tomorrow’s final trial?
‘Unless some special variable arises, there’s no way a monster like you fails the final trial.’
Curiosity won out, and she asked.
“······So why did you call me?”
Since pledging as a loyal ‘dog’ or ‘slave,’ she’d treated Mok Kyung-un with utmost respect.
To her question, Mok Kyung-un replied.
“Ah, nothing major. Could you spar with me lightly?”
“Spar... what...”
She swallowed dryly without realizing.
He rarely called her, but summoning her alone at midnight felt off.
Surely he didn’t call her this late for...
“Would you spar with me?”
“Spar... ring?”
She let out a faint breath of relief.
Call it partial reassurance.
A demon like him wouldn’t treat her as a woman—poisoning her and calling her a loyal dog—if he saw her that way.
But why spar out of nowhere?
They’d already clashed once, making another largely pointless...
‘Or not?’
On second thought, maybe not pointless.
She’d heard the final trial tested pure martial arts, unlike prior ones probing survival or potential.
Sparring could sharpen her senses beforehand.
And,
‘······I do want revenge.’
Though poisoned into loyalty, she vowed to break free someday.
With upright skill, no less.
Mo Ha-rang’s eyes sharpened as she eyed Mok Kyung-un.
Her pupils darted, seeking his vulnerabilities.
‘It’s different from before.’
Back then, she couldn’t gauge his level accurately.
Now, after observing him closely multiple times, she estimated his prowess and specialties.
-Shing shing shing!
She’d already mapped it mentally.
To fight Mok Kyung-un, avoid direct clashes at all costs.
Their internal energies and trajectories differed; even slight contact dispersed power.
Even her master was the same.
‘If I don’t give him openings.’
She could envision a path to killing him.
That time, she hadn’t intended death, so no assassin arts or secret moves. But with true killing intent, maybe possible.
“That’s quite the motivated look.”
“Ah······.”
“If you come at me truly meaning to kill, that’s fine too.”
“Yes?”
“If you subdue me, I’ll detox the poison.”
Mo Ha-rang’s expression changed utterly at his words.
Moments ago, mere hypotheticals; now with stakes, it was different.
Moth Flower Hall’s Linked Kill and Assassination King secrets—Shadow Phantom Movement—combined, she was confident against any at her level.
“······You mean that?”
“Yes. I promise. If you can subdue me right now...”
Before Mok Kyung-un finished,
-Swish!
Tiny daggers sprang from her right and left sleeves.
First strike wins.
Move before he reacted, seize victory.
Her martial arts stemmed from assassination.
Disrupting rhythm mattered more than frontal fights.
But,
-Thud!
‘!?’
Mo Ha-rang’s face froze.
‘What... the hell...’
What happened?
She’d moved first as his words ended.
Yet somehow, Mok Kyung-un’s sword formula finger rested on her throat.
‘······I didn’t see it.’
Even then, she’d thought herself superior in speed.
Now, his movement was invisible.
She hadn’t even registered it, yet his fingertip touched.
“Too slow.”
-Drip...
At Mok Kyung-un’s words, a bead of cold sweat trailed down Mo Ha-rang’s fair cheek.
One twitch, and her throat would pierce.
[Chapter 31: Fortuitous Encounter (2)] End