022 - Treasures Have Their Own Masters
“Ah! That? It’s just that there are no mechanisms shooting out hidden weapons or spears!”
“……”
Jin Muhon stared at Ak Manho in silence.
In the end, Ak Manho awkwardly smiled and averted his gaze.
“Well… there are some… but don’t worry! They’ll never go off! Why would I ever screw over an old friend like the Jin family head?!”
Ak Manho’s voice grew quieter and quieter.
Jin Muhon’s cold gaze sent chills creeping down his spine.
“Come on in! Take a look around and pick whatever you need! There’s plenty of useful stuff besides elixirs!”
Ak Manho hurriedly stepped inside the treasure vault and lit the lanterns within.
Then, turning to Jin Muhon, he spread his arms wide.
“Well? What do you think? This is the treasure hoard the Long River Bandits have gathered over centuries!”
Jin Muhon stepped inside and surveyed the interior.
The vault was surprisingly spacious.
A high ceiling loomed overhead, filled wall-to-wall with riches.
Wooden crates lined the walls, gleaming with gold and silver, while bolts of red and blue silk were neatly stacked beside them. On the other side stood weapons crafted by master artisans, and jewelry embedded with jade, coral, and pearls caught the eye.
“Thieving bastards. You’ve stolen quite the haul.”
Jin Muhon clicked his tongue.
Ak Manho couldn’t exactly argue, so he cleared his throat—ahem, ahem—and shuffled toward one wall.
“Jin family head. The elixirs are over here. This is three-hundred-year-old hasuo, that’s century-old wild ginseng, over there’s a pill that boosts your inner energy by five years, and this one’s amazing for internal injuries.”
Ak Manho picked up a jade bottle and popped the lid with a click. A rich medicinal aroma quickly filled the vault.
He cautiously gauged Jin Muhon’s reaction.
“Like what you see? Tell me what you want. I’ll make you a special gift of it.”
“That all you got?”
“Hey now! ‘That all?’ Compared to the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains, it’s a drop in the bucket, sure, but these aren’t elixirs to scoff at! Go rummage through any other sect’s stores—”
“Heard you had stuff from the Four Emperors.”
“……!”
Ak Manho’s eyes bulged.
Jin Muhon, hands clasped behind his back, watched his face intently.
Trembling cheek muscles, beads of sweat forming on his philtrum.
The guy couldn’t hide a thing.
“Wh-what do you mean? How could I have elixirs from the Four Emperors? Those righteous pricks who killed their leader probably looted everything clean.”
“Don’t know, don’t care. You got it or not?”
“Uh… no…”
“Speak properly. Like a man.”
Tzzzzz.
“……!”
Just like in the banquet hall, red mist began to emanate from Jin Muhon.
The eerie color and bloody scent made Ak Manho’s blood run cold.
‘Fuck… what the hell kind of demonic art is that…’
The Sword Demon had always been famous for his insane swordsmanship.
With his demonic sword in hand, he’d had no equals in the world.
But this Sword Demon who’d appeared before him again was pressuring him relentlessly with some unknown demonic art.
‘He’s gotten stronger. Then the next cult leader’s that bastard’s for the taking!’
Ak Manho’s eyes widened as the thought hit him.
If his hunch was right.
If the Sword Demon claimed the Demonic Cult leader’s throne.
Then this meeting wasn’t misfortune—it was an opportunity of a lifetime.
‘That bastard becoming cult leader!’
Ak Manho’s mind raced.
Grant the Demonic Cult leader’s wish, and it’d come back tenfold—no, a hundredfold. The Sword Demon never forgot a favor, personality aside.
“Jin family head. I’ll say it clearly: no Four Emperors elixirs here.”
Ak Manho swallowed hard.
The corner of Jin Muhon’s mouth curled coldly.
“Yeah?”
“What I have isn’t from the Four Emperors. It’s from their leader.”
“……”
Jin Muhon’s eyebrow twitched.
This bastard playing word games.
Should he just kill him?
Step. Step. Step.
Despite the killing intent, Ak Manho trembled but strode confidently to one wall.
Then, as casually as possible, he rambled on.
“Every treasure has its own master, they say. Especially ones too valuable to appraise. So even after getting the Four Emperors leader’s item early on, I’ve kept it safe, waiting for the right moment.”
Ak Manho tapped a mechanism on the shelf.
With a grrr, the shelf slid aside, revealing a small door.
He creaked it open with a screech.
Turning to Jin Muhon, he gestured inside with his arm.
“Looks like the time’s come, Jin family head.”
“……”
Jin Muhon shook his head pityingly and stepped through the small door.
Unlike the outer vault, this was a tiny space for maybe two people.
Only two items were stored inside.
A small box. And a sword.
“This it?”
Jin Muhon first lifted the small box and clicked open the lid.
Inside lay a jade vial the size of a finger, emitting a faint, subtle fragrance.
‘Figured the Four Emperors leader’s stuff would be full of scams.’
He hadn’t even inspected it yet, but it was clearly no ordinary item.
Ak Manho, who’d followed behind, lowered his voice unusually.
“No one knows exactly how the Four Emperors leader died. All we know is it was those righteous bastards. But it seems he knew something.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jin Muhon turned to look at him.
Ak Manho glanced down at the box in Jin Muhon’s hand, eyes trembling.
“Word is, shortly before his death, he scattered his possessions across the martial world. This one eventually washed up on the Yangtze.”
“Hmm.”
Suddenly, Jin Muhon recalled the Four Emperors leader he’d met in the past.
‘Not the type to go down easy…’
There was probably some story behind it, but he had no interest in digging.
Jin Muhon snapped the lid shut and tucked the box into his robes.
Ak Manho smacked his lips watching him.
“Thanks.”
Ak Manho’s eyes bulged at Jin Muhon’s gratitude.
How many in the world had ever heard such words from the Sword Demon?
‘Jackpot!’
Ak Manho’s heart pounded.
He’d lost an elixir, but maybe gained something bigger.
The Sword Demon never forgot favors—once he became cult leader, he’d back Ak Manho.
‘In that case…’
Ak Manho’s pupils rolled slyly sideways.
Jin Muhon, elixir secured, turned without lingering.
“Out of the way. It’s cramped.”
“Jin family head. Hold on.”
Jin Muhon narrowed his eyes.
Anyone’s eyes would spin before treasure.
Especially Ak Manho, who stole from others—not the other way around.
“Pity.”
Jin Muhon’s hand rose to his iron sword’s hilt.
Ak Manho’s gaze followed it downward.
“What about your demonic sword? Why carry that street-vendor scrap?”
“It works fine.”
“Tch. No. It won’t cut it anymore.”
Ak Manho shook his head like an enlightened monk and stepped deeper in.
He carefully lifted a pitch-black sword, from hilt to sheath.
“In fights with true masters, the tiniest difference decides life or death. You’ve had no equals so far, Jin family head, so an old iron sword sufficed. But things are different now.”
“Different how?”
“Even the unrivaled Four Emperors leader fell. If you want to protect what matters, don’t you need a famed sword at least?”
“……”
Protect what matters.
Procuring elixirs amid this mess.
Asking Han Sowol for the furrow-faced girl.
Sorting the Ghost Soul Sect and Iron Blood Society feud.
All for one thing.
Jin Hayeon’s safety.
Jin Muhon slowly nodded.
“…You’re right.”
“Hahaha! When have I ever been wrong? Here! Take it! This is the sword the Four Emperors leader wielded!”
Ak Manho offered the black sword.
Perhaps because one of the world’s absolute powers had wielded it, the blade seemed to exude a sinister aura.
“What’re you waiting for?”
Jin Muhon reached out.
Ak Manho presented it reverently.
Clack.
The moment Jin Muhon gripped it.
‘Hm?’
A tingle shot through his fingertips.
Then, an unfamiliar image flashed before his eyes.
‘What…?’
A formless entity, brimming with red malice and thick killing intent.
Jin Muhon focused his energy.
He vaguely sensed its nature.
‘Blood… mist?’
The realization hit, and red light flashed from the blood mist.
Agonizing pain burned through his upper dantian as Jin Muhon snapped out of the vision.
“Hah!”
“Jin family head! You okay? What happened? Did you get some kind of revelation?”
“……”
Jin Muhon said nothing, lowering the sword before drawing it with a shing.
Ak Manho startled back.
“Whoa! It came out?”
Apparently, it hadn’t budged for him.
The exposed blade was blood-red, as if coated in gore.
An unsettling hue just to look at.
Jin Muhon channeled upper dantian energy into the blade.
Woooong—
The sword trembled with a bizarre hum.
“Ooh! Sword cry! See? Swords know their masters!”
Ignoring Ak Manho’s fuss, Jin Muhon focused on the changes.
Something resisted his power.
Then, something from the blade tried burrowing into his hand.
‘Cheeky.’
Jin Muhon surged more inner energy.
The blade shook violently in resistance.
Moments later.
—Kiiiiiaaaaaak!!
“Gah! Scared me!”
A blood-red mist rose from the blade with a chilling scream.
Only then did the sword fall silent, its agonized cries ceasing.
Ak Manho gawked, eyes wide.
“Wh-what? Jin family head! Did that sword just scream? Huh? The color changed!”
“……”
As Ak Manho said, the blade had shifted from blood-red to pitch-black.
The ominous red gone, leaving pure darkness.
Deep and shadowy, like a moonless night sky.
Thus, the Four Emperors Sword found its new master.
A few days later, at the Iron Blood Society.
With members mostly retired soldiers, the society’s compound was far from ornate.
High walls of plain gray stone evoked battlements, flanked by guards holding spears like sentries.
The spacious courtyard was flat and flowerless, corners neatly arrayed with weapons and training dummies.
Even the grand meeting hall where the society head debated matters with his subordinates felt more like a military camp than a sect hall.
Boom!
The Iron Blood Society head slammed the table.
His once-black beard, now white, quivered with rage.
The young adjutant seated nearby eyed the crumpled letter in his fist with concern.
“General. Did the Ghost Soul Sect leader offend you?”
“See for yourself!”
The society head flung the crumpled letter at him.
The adjutant hastily unfolded the missive from the Ghost Soul Sect leader.
Dozens of generals in the hall tensed, eyes fixed on his face.
In the hushed silence, broken only by careful breaths, the adjutant read inwardly.
We've seen enough blood.
Now select representatives and settle it with a duel.
Refusal counts as surrender.
Reply within three days.
If no suitable expert, call someone you know.
We'll allow that much.
— Great Ghost Soul Sect Second Branch Leader Chukang
“Hah!”
The young adjutant finished reading, face stiffening as he sighed. His hand trembled holding the letter.
The society head shot to his feet.
His chair toppled back with a thud.
“That insolent unorthodox bastard!”
His fury echoed through the hall.
“Fine! We’ll give them what they want! Contact that one immediately!”
The adjutant’s eyes widened in shock.
“Th-that one… you can’t mean! You’re really calling him?”
“Yes.”
The society head’s gaze turned icy.
“This time, I’ll burn the Ghost Soul Sect to the foundations! Move out!”
—Snap!
The generals rose as one, saluting crisply.
Battle-ready tension rose like heat haze over the compound.
Only the young adjutant gazed at the society head with worry.
‘Calling him over something like this…’
His hands grew cold.