Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 16
>Chapter Title: Corpse Blood Valley (2)
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Heaven-Earth Society.
Two men walked side by side along the path enclosed by walls leading to the main hall.
One was Son Yun, the Bright Blade King, one of the Heaven-Earth Society's eight executives and one of the Five Kings. The other was Sorcerer Jo Ui-gong.
As they walked, Jo Ui-gong spoke in a frustrated tone.
“I shouldn’t have told the Vice Chief that I’d taken him as a disciple.”
In response, Bright Blade King Son Yun clicked his tongue.
“Even if you had, it wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Why not?”
“Have you ever seen the Chief retract an order once given?”
“......”
Jo Ui-gong was at a loss for words.
As Son Yun said, the Chief never took back an order once issued. In fact, failure to carry it out often led to severe punishment.
Considering that, persuasion was out of the question.
“Damn it... I finally found a halfway decent one.”
“Halfway decent?”
He was the first to successfully read that cursed manual.
How many had died trying?
Moreover, he had mastered the sword art of the Moon Vein, which had been lost for a century, yet they sent him to Corpse Blood Valley without even seeing his face.
Even for the Chief, this was incomprehensible.
Even when they drafted somewhat capable youths from each faction, eight or nine out of ten died in Corpse Blood Valley.
Its name, meaning "corpses and blood," was well-earned.
“I should at least ask you to plead with the Valley Lord. We can’t just let that promising kid die like this.”
Son Yun looked at Jo Ui-gong with a glint in his eye.
He wouldn’t react this way unless he was truly impressed.
Son Yun himself felt the loss too.
They could persuade him to join their side or extract the sword art from his mind to revive the Moon Vein. Why send him to Corpse Blood Valley, the harshest selection process?
‘No way?’
Bright Blade King Son Yun’s eyes narrowed.
Was that the reason they sent him there?
‘To test him?’
* * *
Corpse Blood Valley.
“The allotted time is one incense stick. There are iron balls in the valley stream that look just like this one. Find one and bring it back here to this incense burner. Fail, and you die.”
-The crowd buzzed.
The boys stirred at the words of the man in the demon ghost mask.
It was the dead of night.
Though warriors with red sashes held torches here and there, the streambed was far too dark to see clearly.
Finding a tiny iron ball amid all these pebbles in this gloom?
It was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
At that moment, a boy who looked about seventeen, standing in the front row, raised his hand.
“Killing us over a single iron ball? Isn’t that too much? We’re all draftees from our factions. Even so...”
“Don’t want to?”
The demon ghost mask cut him off.
The boy hesitated with a tense expression before speaking.
“This doesn’t seem like a proper selection process, just based on finding or not finding an iron ball...”
-Crack! Thud!
“Gah!”
Before he could finish, the boy collapsed with a dying scream.
‘!!!!!!’
Those beside him couldn’t hide their shock.
A iron ball was deeply embedded in the boy’s forehead—the cause of his instant death.
As they panicked, the demon ghost mask declared loudly.
“Question orders or give up, and you die.”
The murmurs turned to silence in an instant.
One death had made the reality sink in for everyone.
‘These lunatics.’
Mok Yu-cheon cursed inwardly.
Suddenly ordering this nonsense was ridiculous enough, but death for failure?
He was here as a hostage for his clan.
What kind of treatment was this?
‘If only my energy gates weren’t sealed...’
Focusing his eyesight might make it easier.
But with his internal energy sealed, this was pointless suffering.
Then the demon ghost mask added.
“For your information, there aren’t as many iron balls in the valley as there are people here. Hurry up.”
‘!?’
Not enough iron balls for everyone?
Shock rippled through the group.
That meant some were doomed to die no matter what.
“When the incense burns out, time’s up. Light it.”
At the demon ghost mask’s command, one of the red-sashed warriors by the large incense burner lit the stick.
-Sizzle!
The hesitant, murmuring boys surged toward the valley stream all at once.
Over eight hundred charging together shook the ground.
With energy gates sealed, no one used lightness skills.
At least it was fair.
“Damn it all!”
Amid the chaos, Mok Yu-cheon glared at Mok Kyung-un before sprinting off with the others.
-Splash! Splash!
No other choice now.
He had to find an iron ball.
Or die.
Following the crowd into the stream, Mok Yu-cheon peered down.
‘Damn...’
How the hell was he supposed to find it?
It was pitch black.
He could barely make out the ripples; the streambed was invisible.
Impossible with the naked eye.
-Splish-splash!
“Ugh! Where the hell is it?”
“Arghhh!”
Frustrated voices echoed everywhere.
Unable to see, they groped, digging through pebbles by hand.
Inevitably,
“Ow!”
“M-my hand...”
Hands got cut up.
Some even broke nails flipping stones.
Internal energy could protect hands, but bare-handed? Injuries were guaranteed.
-Scrape!
Mok Yu-cheon’s fingers bled from sharp rocks and gravel.
No helping it.
Hands were the only way.
What if he didn’t find one in time?
-Thump-thump!
Anxiety made his heart race.
He’d never felt tension like this.
Glancing aside, Mok Yu-cheon wore a incredulous look.
‘What the hell is that guy doing?’
Everyone dove into the stream, searching frantically.
Yet Mok Kyung-un stood there, arms crossed, watching like it was someone else’s problem.
‘Insane bastard.’
Not even bothering to check the stream—what was he doing over there?
Suicidal?
Shaking his head in disbelief, Mok Yu-cheon turned back.
Half-brother or not, failure meant death.
-Splish-splash!
While everyone madly churned the water, the incense had nearly half burned.
One incense stick was almost up.
Half the time left.
Then—
“Out.”
With the shout, the red-sashed warriors doused their torches in the stream.
Already dark, now even silhouettes were hard to make out without the flames.
“Damn it!”
“How are we supposed to find anything?”
Complaints erupted.
But they kept groping underwater.
Failure meant death.
“Valley Lord, looks like we’ll weed out more than half this time.”
A middle-aged warrior whispered beside the demon ghost mask—Valley Lord.
No one had found one yet, almost an incense stick in.
Usually, one or two succeeded by now.
“Not much grit, huh.”
The Valley Lord nodded in agreement.
This batch might yield the fewest survivors ever.
Normally, one success spurred desperation, sharpening senses.
This tested the five senses and survival instinct.
Failing here meant no value.
‘Heard they sent talents from the Secret Scripture Gate, Main Slaughter Valley, and Demonic Flower Hall. Just a bunch of chaff after all?’
Then—
“Found it!”
The first success from this group.
An eighteen-year-old boy, hand a bloody mess holding the iron ball, grinned ear to ear.
Others envied him.
Realizing time was short, they dug harder.
-Splash! Splash!
“Huff... huff...”
Panting from exhaustion, the boy waded out.
‘Made it. I made it.’
Such luck.
Not just survival—he was first.
This would make his name.
As he reveled—
-Splash-splash!
Something charged from behind.
Turning, he saw a burly, rough-faced boy barreling toward him.
“Hand it over!”
Brazenly targeting him.
A preemptive snatch before reaching safety.
Figures like this were expected.
‘Damn!’
Exhausted, the boy ran madly.
Even onshore, the burly one pursued relentlessly.
“You little shit! I’ll pulp you if I catch you!”
-Splish-splash!
The big guy was too fast.
He’d closed the gap that much?
If caught, the hard-won ball would be lost.
The boy whipped his head back, mustering every ounce—
‘!?’
What?
When did this guy get in front?
Someone who hadn’t entered the stream?
Panicking, he tried to veer—
-Thud!
The front boy lunged at blinding speed.
Too fast to dodge—he was grabbed.
‘Damn dog!’
Energy sealed, yet this speed?
Trapped front and back.
Desperate, the boy made a bold move.
‘Like hell I’ll let scum like you take it?’
He shoved the iron ball in his mouth and swallowed.
The burly pursuer, seeing this, roared in fury.
“You bastard!”
No snatching now.
The boy smirked defiantly.
But—
“What a pain.”
-Thud!
“Huh?”
Hands seized the boy’s head.
Then—
-Crack!
His neck snapped.
He died without a scream, collapsing on the spot.
‘!?’
The burly boy, just five paces back, was stunned.
He’d planned to steal the ball, not kill.
Yet it happened right before him.
Worse was coming—
-Crush!
‘!!!!!!!!’
Not content with murder, he ripped out the boy’s throat with bare hands.
Thrusting into the neck,
-Grind! Rip!
He extracted the swallowed iron ball.
Blood-soaked hand and ball.
-Drip-drip!
Blood pooled on the ground.
‘Th-this psycho...’
The burly boy was speechless.
What kind of monster was this?
As he froze, the pale-faced boy—no, Mok Kyung-un—turned, shook blood from his hand onto the ground, and spoke.
“What? You want it?”
-Chill!
The burly boy frantically shook his head.
Eye contact felt like his heart would burst; his legs buckled, ready to collapse.
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