Chapter 41 - An Elixir as Red as Blood
Jin Muhon stepped out of the inn, hands clasped behind his back, strolling through the crowded streets of the city.
The summer sun scorched the pavement, mingling a cacophony of sounds and smells in the air.
"Tofu! Fresh tofu for sale!"
"Make way! Coming through!"
"Hey! That thief! Grab him!"
The aroma of dried herbs piled high on market stalls mixed with the greasy sizzle from hot oil in frying pans. Women clustered around a jewelry shop, their laughter ringing out like ho-ho, while children dashed along the roadside beside rumbling carts, giggling shrilly.
"Senior Brother! Senior Brother!"
Amid the clamor, Cheongpung's voice cut through. Jin Muhon halted and turned. Cheongpung, who had hurried after him from the inn, stood there panting, shoulders heaving.
"What kind of pace is that?"
"You're the slow one."
Jin Muhon chuckled softly and resumed walking. Cheongpung followed, clueless about their destination.
"Information that would pique my interest? What is it?"
Jin Muhon glanced at the running children before sliding his gaze smoothly to Cheongpung.
"If you give something, you expect something in return. Do you have more to offer?"
"Uh..."
"A fool with the heart of a highway robber. Tsk tsk."
Jin Muhon clicked his tongue and turned away. Though he walked leisurely, some special footwork made him vanish into the crowd in an instant. Cheongpung yelped in alarm and unleashed his lightness skill.
"Senior Brother! Wait!"
Weaving through the throng with lightness skill left Cheongpung breathless in moments. Jin Muhon slowed, glancing indifferently at him.
"More to say?"
"The Sichuan Tang Clan!"
Jin Muhon stopped. Cheongpung, who had passed him, spun back and stood before him.
"What of it?"
"My mission. Just as you said—the Sichuan Tang Clan."
"I already knew that much."
"Well..."
Cheongpung glanced around and lowered his voice.
"I've received word that the Tang Clan has been sending out supplies and experts lately. That's why I'm here—to find out where and why. But since you suspect the Tang Clan... perhaps..."
Jin Muhon met Cheongpung's eyes steadily.
"Yes."
Cheongpung's eyes sparkled at the firm confirmation. He didn't know the reason, but if the Sword Demon of the world was this certain, then the Tang Clan must have captured the demonic cultist. Yet something felt off. Why would the Tang Clan keep it hushed if they'd caught a vicious demonic cultist? Wouldn't boasting about it elevate their prestige? As if reading his thoughts, Jin Muhon spoke gravely.
"The one captured now isn't someone the Tang Clan could take alone."
"Pardon? What do you mean...?"
"Someone helped the Tang Clan."
"Ah! That makes sense. But who? Not Qingcheng or Ami, and there don't seem to be any allies of that caliber nearby in Sichuan..."
Cheongpung tilted his head, pondering who might have joined forces, but no sect or family came to mind. A group in Sichuan at least equal to—or greater than—the Tang Clan. No matter how he racked his brain, nothing fit.
"There's a traitor."
"...Pardon?"
At Jin Muhon's impassive words, Cheongpung blinked at him. A traitor? So what?
The answer came swiftly from Jin Muhon's lips.
"It seems the Tang Clan has joined hands with the Demonic Cult."
"...Whaaat?!!"
So startled was Cheongpung that he jumped in place. Passersby started in surprise. Face flushing crimson, he scurried close to Jin Muhon. If true, this was an earth-shattering event that could shake the Alliance to its roots.
"D-do you have proof?"
Jin Muhon stared straight ahead past Cheongpung, a faint smirk curling his lips.
"Time to find out."
Cheongpung followed his gaze. Beyond the crowd loomed a vast estate. Above its grand gate hung a plaque with two bold characters in majestic script.
"......"
Tang Clan.
***
That night, a knife-thin new moon hung faintly in the sky. Beneath its dim light, the sprawling Tang Clan estate lay shrouded in subtle mist. The air was eerily still and ominous. The patrolling guards' footsteps echoed unnaturally loud.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Why's the mist so thick tonight?"
"Cough. Cough. Doesn't it smell like blood?"
"Nonsense. Blood? What blood?"
"Weird. I swear I smell it..."
The night patrol warriors fidgeted uneasily, eyes darting about.
"Brother, isn't the mist getting thicker?"
"This feels bad. Report to the young lord and increase the guards."
"Who? We're short-staffed."
"What?"
"You know most of the men were dispatched there."
"Mm... true. Still, let's check it out."
Sensing trouble in the thickening mist, the two warriors hurried off. Jin Muhon watched them impassively from the fog.
'There'...
Likely Poison Dragon Valley. Jin Muhon turned. Far off through the mist rose jagged pavilion roofs.
Whoosh—
His form dissolved into the fog.
***
Family Head Residence.
"So this is it?"
Tang Clan head Dang Jupyeong eyed the black box on his ornate desk with greed. True to his love of luxury, the study brimmed with treasures: renowned paintings and calligraphy on every wall, a golden incense burner carved with dragons wafting subtle fragrance. Even the rosewood desk was a master's artistry. Yet all paled before the box's contents. No—comparison was impossible.
Click.
Dang Jupyeong slowly opened the box.
"Oh!!"
Inside lay a single thumb-sized red elixir. He lifted it carefully to the lantern light. His fingers trembled. The translucent red orb gleamed.
"Ah..."
Dang Jupyeong couldn't tear his eyes from the blood-hued glow. Staring into the crimson sphere, something seemed to writhe within—like holding a living being. Mystery pulsed from his fingertips.
"Beautiful... so beautiful..."
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—
Enraptured, Dang Jupyeong missed the study filling with fog. Gazing on, his mind grew hazy, as if possessed. And so...
"Grinding up all those demonic cultists for just this one pill. If I'd known, I wouldn't have crippled those unit leaders' dantians. What a shame. Such a shame."
Dang Jupyeong smacked his lips regretfully and carefully returned the elixir to the box. As he moved to close the lid...
"What did you say?"
A low, heavy voice echoed in the study.
"Gah!"
Dang Jupyeong shot up from his chair, stumbling back. It crashed away.
"Wh-what?!!"
Only then did he notice the study shrouded in pale mist. And in its midst stood a dark, hazy figure staring at him.
"Who are you!"
Dang Jupyeong bellowed, drawing hidden weapons from his sleeve and hurling them forward.
Shing!
Dozens of black ox-hair needles swarmed the intruder. A smirk tugged at Dang Jupyeong's lips. Hastily thrown, yet already upon him. No expert could dodge. But then—the intruder raised one hand.
"......!"
Dang Jupyeong's jaw dropped, eyes bulging. The needles that should have riddled him hung frozen in midair, as if nailed there.
"H-how...?"
The suspended needles glinted in the lantern light. Dang Jupyeong's mind blanked. Then, the intruder flicked a finger.
"Gasp!"
Shing!
The needles reversed, hurtling at Dang Jupyeong. He flung himself aside with desperate footwork.
Thud-thud-thud!
"Urk!"
He dodged most, but a few pierced his calf. Rolling ignobly on the floor, he stifled a groan and sprang up.
"Hng..."
Pain throbbed from his right calf. Another volley, and he couldn't evade.
"Damn it! Who the hell are you! Do you know where you are, sneaking in here! Are you insane?!"
Dang Jupyeong's eyes darted wildly as he roared. Such commotion should have drawn guards, yet silence. His prized sword hung on the opposite wall.
'After the elixir? How does he know?'
Made in utmost secrecy from Demonic Cult flesh. For poison experts, instant realm advancement; for warriors, decades of inner energy. The inhuman method demanded a price—but exposure meant annihilation by all Murim as public enemy. Yet he knew...
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"......!"
The intruder approached through the mist. Dang Jupyeong limped back.
"Stop! Stay there!"
The mist thinned, revealing the intruder's face. Shadows played across it in the flickering light. His rigid features resembled stone more than flesh.
"Screaming's useless. They won't hear outside."
"Shut up! Do you even know who I—"
Light fell on shadowed features. Beneath straight brows, eyes deep as abysses. A blade-like nose, lips sealed eternally.
"Y-you... how...?"
Fifteen years ago, at the Tang branch massacre by the Blood Demon. How could he forget that face slaughtering his kin in hellish fury? Nightmares plagued Dang Jupyeong for years. He feared the reaper's return, barely leaving his rooms. Without him, without that day, the Tang Clan—not Nangong—would lead the Five Great Families. Even his father, the Poison King, had vowed revenge daily. And now...
He stood before Dang Jupyeong.
"The... Sword Demon!!"
Dang Jupyeong collapsed backward with a thud.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Jin Muhon approached slowly. Dang Jupyeong trembled, staring. Memories flooded, mind in chaos. The needle pain vanished.
"......?"
But Jin Muhon headed not for him, but the desk. Face stern, he lifted the red elixir for inspection. Seizing the chance, Dang Jupyeong inched his hips back to flee. Jin Muhon snatched a brush from the desk and flung it without looking.
Shing! Thunk!
"Argh!"
The brush pierced his thigh. Clutching the gushing wound, Dang Jupyeong groaned. Unfazed, Jin Muhon examined the red elixir.
"Guuh! Ngh!"
No escape, no resistance. Even the Tang Clan head could only await judgment before the Sword Demon. Especially since the elixir's ingredients were his old subordinates.
'Please... please... please... don't know.'
Dang Jupyeong prayed desperately. Eyes on the elixir, Jin Muhon spoke slowly.
"Clan Head. You have something to say."
Hiss—
Centered on Jin Muhon, the pale mist began staining red.