Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Since she had rescued Seol Seorin, there was no need to involve herself further in the beggars’ dispute.
Then as now, she was not someone who sacrificed herself for righteousness or chivalry. Taking part in the Beggars’ Sect’s internal conflict would only be a waste of time.
“Hey, beggar.”
At Yeo Il’s call, Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk turned his flushed face toward her.
“One question. At your age, you should be preparing to leave this world quietly… Why follow Cheonmunju so late in life?”
“……”
Cheonmunju was Salmak’s internal code name for the First Evil, Cheon Mu-ryeong.
Perhaps he immediately understood the meaning of the code. Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk’s expression turned strange.
“…Wench. Where in the world did you fall from, to know that name?”
“If you answer obediently, I won’t involve myself any further in traitors or anything else. My objective has already been achieved.”
“Xiaoxia!”
Gaecheol called out urgently.
“That man murdered our Beggars’ Sect Deputy Leader and fled! How can you pretend not to see?”
Yeo Il showed no reaction and waited for Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk’s answer.
When the old man kept his mouth shut, Jin Cheong-ak, beginning to grow bored, spoke up for her.
“Stop stalling, Iron-Faced Bastard. Our lady may be underhanded enough to make one’s teeth chatter, but she keeps her word.”
“…Ha ha!”
The old man suddenly burst into laughter.
After laughing madly for quite some time, he spoke in a sinister tone.
“Now I understand.”
His gaze shifted to Yeo Il’s sword.
“Blood-Seeking Sword Ghost… You were the one who killed that foul-tempered man. Yes. I thought I had seen that sword somewhere. It was that old bastard’s sword….”
Yeo Il answered with silence.
Gaecheol stared at her in disbelief.
“Blood-Seeking Sword Ghost… surely not one of the Eight Ghosts? How could a young woman defeat that old monster…?”
“Young? Foolish brat, she only looks young! Damn it. My luck truly runs thin. Just when I thought my era had come, I end up caught by something like this!”
After muttering to himself, Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk snorted loudly and suddenly threw aside the hostages.
“G-great hero! Please spare us!”
The cook and the inn servant scrambled behind Yeo Il in panic.
Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk ran his fingers along his blade and sneered.
“Ptui! …You asked why I follow Cheonmunju now? Heh. What nonsense! We have never once followed Cheonmunju….”
Yeo Il’s expression visibly hardened.
Never followed Cheon Mu-ryeong?
That meant—
“You are unrelated to Yeonghwang Yuse?”
Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk picked up a wine bottle rolling across the floor and poured it into his mouth.
“Unrelated? Impossible. That cannot be… However, since ‘that person’ follows the First Evil, we merely assist ‘that person’s’ will!”
“That person.” A new figure had appeared.
If even an expert on the level of the Eight Ghosts followed him, his name would surely be known in Jianghu.
“Who is this ‘that person’ you speak of?”
After pouring more wine into his mouth, the old man shook his shoulders in excitement.
“I guarantee it… If I reveal ‘that person’s’ honored name, wench, even if you don’t flee, those beggar brats will tuck their tails and run! Just as befits such small and pitiful vessels!”
“Shut up!”
Jin Cheong-ak glanced at the furious Gaecheol, then stroked his chin with keen interest.
“Now I am truly curious. A fugitive of the Beggars’ Sect not only takes shelter but even reveres someone. So then, what is this impressive person’s name?”
Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk curled his lips upward and swallowed several more mouthfuls of wine before flinging the bottle aside.
“Puhah!”
And at last, the name emerged.
“Moon Sword One Kill.”
The downpour grew heavier.
As if by agreement, heavy silence settled inside the wrecked inn.
With a look that suggested he had anticipated this, the drenched old man wiped his soaked collar and neck, then drew his sword.
“Then as promised… If your business is finished, be on your way!”
His figure rushed forward like the wind, brushing past her—
In an instant, Yeo Il twisted her body, seized the old man by the collar, and dragged him back roughly.
“Ugh.”
“Who did you say that person was?”
Eyes hazy as though drunk—or perhaps not—he answered,
“…Moon Sword.”
Moon Sword One Kill.
No one else.
It was Yeo Il herself.
“Moon Sword One Kill.”
Yeo Il lifted her head from the teacup she had been quietly staring at.
It was a winter night with a fierce snowstorm raging outside.
The wind was so harsh that the Sect Leader’s residence, empty except for the three of them, was filled with the sound of drafts slipping through.
“Pardon?”
Seonhye, one of the third-generation disciples of the Mount Hua Sect seated beside Yeo Il, asked with a puzzled expression.
On this day just before the New Year sunrise, Mount Hua Sect Leader Baek Chung, who had secretly summoned Yeo Il and Seonhye, spoke again.
“Moon Sword One Kill. Red Dragon Black Blade. Thousand-Faced Demon Ghost.”
Perhaps the names themselves were unpleasant to hear. Seonhye’s expression stiffened.
“Aren’t all three enemies of the martial world? And members of Salmak…?”
“You are correct, Seonhye. Evil spirits whose names none in Jianghu fail to know. Elusive enough that even the most renowned Orthodox experts cannot capture them, and the principal culprits behind spreading Salmak’s infamy across the land.”
Perhaps because such figures were being mentioned by none other than the Mount Hua Sect Leader—
With a tense expression, Seonhye glanced at Yeo Il before cautiously asking,
“Is this related to why you summoned Senior Sister Yeonwu and me?”
“They will soon target our Mount Hua Sect.”
Seonhye’s eyes widened in shock.
“What? How could that—!”
“You both already know. The bloody storm that began several years ago has shaken even the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans.”
“……”
“The Zhuge Clan, the Zhongnan Sect, the Kunlun Sect… three publicly known. Considering those kept quiet internally, at least four or five must have been struck.”
Struck.
Seonhye did not ask what that meant. Numerous sects and clans, including those mentioned by the Sect Leader, had already suffered similar losses related to Salmak.
Elixirs, treasures, and martial manuals.
Not ordinary items. All were precious relics passed down through generations, bound to the history of each sect or clan.
Infiltration, sudden assaults, theft, coercion. The methods were so varied that response was difficult. With traitors rampant, many festered from within. People called the current Jianghu an era of chaos.
“This time, it will surely be our Mount Hua Sect’s turn.”
“Sect Leader, have you perhaps discovered evidence?”
“…Therefore, there is one matter I must entrust to you two.”
The Sect Leader bent beneath the bed and retrieved a jar that looked extremely old at a glance.
Placing the jar, emanating a strange aura, upon the table, he spoke.
“The item preserved within is the internal energy cultivation manual passed down through Mount Hua for generations.”
“A martial manual…?”
“Purple Haze Divine Art.”
“Purple Haze Divine Art! My heavens, the legendary one spoken of only in stories…!”
Startled, Seonhye nearly tumbled from her chair.
“W-why are you showing such a precious item to us?”
“In preparation for the worst, I intend to hide it deep within Mount Hua. I would have one of you undertake that role.”
Seonhye looked helplessly between Yeo Il and the Sect Leader.
“How could someone as lacking as I dare shoulder such a grave responsibility…?”
“There is one absolute rule that must be observed.”
“What is it?”
“While transporting this manual, anyone you encounter—without exception—must have their life taken.”
“…Pardon?”
Seonhye’s face drained of color.
It took her quite some time to discern whether what she had just heard was real.