Chapter 217
Chapter 217
-----------------------------------------------------------------
>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 217
>Chapter Title: Cavern (8)
>-----------------------------------------------------------------
Amid the churning of his internal energy and the headache that felt like his skull was splitting.
- Heh heh heh. It's thanks to this body's teachings.
Il-mok inwardly replied to the nonsense from the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword as he took a step forward.
‘Teachings my ass.’
There was no way brutally slamming in innate qi could be called teachings.
‘Useless bastard.’
- …….
A strange feeling washed over him that the side effect bastard was sulking in his head, but Il-mok shut it out.
He had no spare energy to deal with a madman when he already felt like he was on the verge of death.
Il-mok barely managed to shuffle over to Gwigok-ja's corpse.
More precisely, to the human sacrifice sword embedded in the center of the altar in front of the corpse.
The formation hadn't deactivated yet, even after killing Gwigok-ja.
Grabbing the hilt of the sword stuck in the altar with both hands, Il-mok let out a strained grunt as he pulled it free.
“Hup.”
It felt like some gluttonous beast had its jaws clamped around the blade; in the end, Il-mok forcibly circulated his churning internal energy and managed to yank it out.
Srrrng.
At that moment, the ominous energy that had confined them began scattering in all directions, and the summoned vengeful spirits let out final screams as they vanished one by one.
‘Killing these bastards won't fully soothe their grudges, but go to a good place at least.’
Il-mok watched the fading spirits with a bitter expression for a moment.
‘An illusion…?’
Just before some of them vanished, a serene smile seemed to grace their faces, which had been filled with rage and madness. It caught Il-mok's eye.
It might have been an illusion, but seeing them look as if they'd released at least a bit of their resentment put Il-mok's mind at ease.
“Phew.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, Il-mok sat cross-legged and began Qi Circulation and Breath Adjustment.
Any more delay here, and he really might fall into Demonic Deviation.
No sooner had Il-mok started than the martial art bastard, who'd kept quiet for a moment, began throwing its tantrum again.
- You filthy wretch! How dare you sit in a place drenched in blood!!
- Cleanse this filthy world!!
Il-mok was certain now.
‘Yeah, it's sulking alright.’
This damn thing was having a meltdown at the absolute worst moment.
His head was already spinning and his stomach churning.
‘Shut up!!’
Il-mok barked inwardly at the side effect while glaring at it from one corner of his mental world, monitoring its every move, and cautiously circulating his internal energy from another.
But judging it too dangerous to continue, Il-mok stabilized just enough of the churning energy and stopped the Qi Circulation and Breath Adjustment.
Refilling his over half-depleted dantian could wait until after some rest.
When Il-mok opened his eyes after stopping, several of his comrades had surrounded him, standing guard.
“We congratulate you on surpassing the wall, Young Master.”
Dam Bin spoke up as the representative, but Il-mok furrowed his brow.
“Sorry about that. My head's pounding, so could you speak a bit softer?”
“We'll be more careful, Young Master.”
Dam Bin bowed her head and stepped back, apologizing in a quieter voice.
“It's fine.”
As he replied, Il-mok tried to fight off the headache by thinking positive thoughts.
He'd fought madmen who used hallucinogenic grass and Illusion Dream Formation to recruit cult fanatics, even offering human sacrifices—and ended up with internal injuries and a headache—but he'd gained something from it.
Something bigger than just surpassing one wall right now.
‘I've found the direction I need to go.’
Il-mok's current state was less like surpassing one wall and more like successfully reaching the foot of a new mountain.
Without knowing the right path, no amount of bone-grinding effort would matter.
You might head in the wrong direction, tread water, or even regress.
In that sense, Il-mok had found the mountain he needed to climb.
He'd even glimpsed fragments of what lay at its peak.
All that remained was to head straight toward that summit.
When that time came.
‘Soon enough, I'll be saying goodbye to you too, you damn side effect.’
He could finally free himself from that cursed obsession.
Entering the Human Realm and becoming an absolute master was secondary for Il-mok.
- Hmph. You think it'll be that easy?
Ignoring the sulky grumbling from the side effect bastard, Il-mok closed his eyes briefly, opened them, eased the headache a bit, and asked,
“How long was I in Qi Circulation and Breath Adjustment?”
“About one shichen, Young Master. Ha-yeon and I stood guard while the others scouted the surroundings.”
“Find anything?”
At Il-mok's question, Dam Bin pulled a booklet from her sleeve and offered it.
“We found this on Gwigok-ja's body.”
The booklet bore the blood-red characters [Blood Curse Record].
As Il-mok took it, Dam Bin explained.
“I don't know much about sorcery, so I couldn't fully understand it, but it was all about spells, formations, and tools using human blood.”
She pointed to the headless corpse—Gwigok-ja's.
“It also covered the Death Command Blood Ghost Formation and Dark Blood Hard Shell he used.”
“Hmm. Could be a journal he wrote while researching sorcery.”
“That seems unlikely.”
As Il-mok looked at her curiously, she added,
“The paper looks decades old—worn, smudged, and torn in places. There are also signs of recent additions. To me, it seems Gwigok-ja stumbled upon this book and started using human blood sorcery afterward.”
“Come to think of it, the Taoists said Gwigok-ja suddenly began human sacrifices. And he hid it in his robes, so maybe he kept it secret from his disciples too.”
His comrades nodded at Il-mok's reasoning.
Then Dam Bin hesitated a moment before cautiously speaking up.
“It's not certain, but there's one group that might be the source.”
“Where?”
“The Blood Cult.”
Il-mok tilted his head at the unfamiliar name and asked.
It was a faction that often appeared in murim novels he'd read in his modern life, but the first time hearing it since reincarnating here.
“Could you tell me more about this Blood Cult?”
“About seventy years ago, a band of fanatics committing atrocities in the Central Plains—before I was born, so I don't know details. Just that they called themselves the Blood Cult and used blood-related spells, formations, and martial arts.”
Her explanation made Il-mok feel like the book was tied to them somehow.
“What happened to the Blood Cult?”
“They massacred countless innocent commoners, so the Martial Alliance and even the Imperial Court mobilized to exterminate them. I hear the last remnants even asked our Divine Cult for help.”
From her words, Il-mok could guess the rest.
“They refused, of course.”
Allying with those who used powerless commoners as sacrifice victims would violate Heavenly Demon Divine Cult doctrine outright.
“Yes. I only know from records of their contact and our refusal. Sorry, I don't know more details.”
“That's plenty—more than enough. I didn't even know the Blood Cult existed.”
Il-mok replied casually and gazed at the [Blood Curse Record] in his hand with a subtle expression.
‘The Blood Cult was exterminated long ago….’
It might just be a relic Gwigok-ja found by chance.
Or perhaps miraculously surviving remnants were rebuilding their power now.
He pondered the Blood Cult only briefly.
‘My head's killing me already. Damn it.’
He soon tuned it out.
‘No, I don't even need to hunt them all down myself.’
Not that he planned to ignore the trash.
‘Whether I ask Master or leak the info to some upright Central Plains faction, there are plenty of people who'd love to drag them in.’
Maybe that's why he shoved thoughts of the Blood Cult to a corner of his mind.
His gaze shifted from the Blood Curse Record to the side.
Toward his own sword, snapped in half and discarded by Il-mok.
“Tch. Guess I need a new sword.”
At Il-mok's mutter, Gu Yang-mun stepped forward with a sword in hand, as if he'd prepared it in advance.
“From what I saw, this one's better quality than it looks, Young Master.”
Gu Yang-mun was excellent at his job—except when it came to Jin Ha-yeon.
But for some reason, Il-mok eyed the proffered sword with extreme reluctance.
“Isn't that Gwigok-ja's blade?”
“Hahaha. What does the previous owner matter? A famed sword only shines in a master's hand, right?”
Il-mok's lip twitched at Gu Yang-mun's hearty laugh.
‘The previous owner isn't the issue, you lunatic.’
What was it?
Maybe an illusion, but the sword brimmed with ghostly energy.
Enough to make one wonder how many vengeful spirits and how much blood it had devoured to reach that state.
Judging purely by the ghostly and baleful auras, it felt like it'd slice through anyone—even the wielder.
A demonic sword in every sense, a haunted artifact unworthy of the name "precious."
Il-mok stared at the thing for a moment, sighed, and replied.
“Keep it for now. It'll have some use.”
As evidence, or send it to headquarters—something.
‘If things go south, I could gift it to someone I want dead.’
Instead of an extra rice cake for a hated foe, a demonic sword might yield satisfying results.
His comrades had also gathered the tools and usable items from Gwigok-ja and his disciples.
The most eye-catching was the wooden plaque Gwigok-ja used.
The Dark Blood Hard Shell, which created a blood membrane barrier.
But since Il-mok's sword aura had shattered the barrier, it was cracked in places.
‘Tch. Made from human sacrifices to begin with—using it feels gross.’
Still, it might prove useful, so Il-mok ordered them to collect everything.
After gathering the spoils—not quite trophies—they followed Jeong Hyeon somewhere.
While Il-mok did Qi Circulation and Breath Adjustment, and some guarded him while collecting items, she'd scouted and found several key spots.
One was a field blooming profusely with some flower.
Dreamcatcher grass.
Was it the moonlight? Or knowing its nature? The field exuded an eerie aura.
Il-mok gazed at it briefly and let out a light sigh.
“I'd love to torch the whole thing, but it'd probably spread to the entire cavern mountain.”
Using liquor to douse the flames crossed his mind, but the field was vast, and his condition wasn't normal.
“Jeong Sojeo. Any other special spots besides this one?”
At Il-mok's question, Jeong Hyeon nodded with a bitter expression.
Puzzled, the group followed her lead through a forest path and soon reached a cave.
Corpses were dumped there. All with necks slit in the same manner.
Under the moonlight, the gruesome sight made Il-mok curse involuntarily.
“Crazy bastards.”
The others voiced their fury too.
“Looks like we killed them too mercifully.”
“We'll make their corpses pay the price at least.”
As his enraged comrades spoke, Il-mok stared piercingly into the cave and said,
“Let's head back to the building where those guys were masquerading as the Cavern Sect. Get some sleep there, then at least give them a proper burial before we go.”
The least they could do was let these souls rest in peace, Il-mok thought.