Chapter 76
Chapter 76
The puppet raising Ilgeom did not miss the strange change in Yeo Il.
Shhiiik—
The weapon aimed straight at her.
Perhaps it was the grating voice. Perhaps it was the murderous aura that followed. Yeo Il reflexively wrenched her blade upward from where it had pierced his shoulder and shifted her stance to sever his neck.
A fatal strike meant to end his life in an instant.
That strike was blocked by none other than the masked man in black—Jin Cheong-ak.
“……”
Standing between the puppet and Yeo Il, Jin Cheong-ak raised one blade to block Ilgeom flying in from behind. With his other hand, he pressed down gently on Yeo Il’s sword using its scabbard.
He looked at her without speaking.
Neither gaze nor words were exchanged. Yet one intent was unmistakable.
Do not make a mistake in a moment of emotion.
Irritation flared at his interference.
“……”
Slowly, Yeo Il withdrew her sword.
Perhaps it was only her distorted perception, but she had the illusion that the corner of his lips curved faintly beneath the mask, satisfied with her restraint.
At the same time, Jin Cheong-ak turned like the wind and drove his elbow into the opponent’s jaw.
Thud.
The strike landed without mercy. The sound of bone cracking echoed.
The opponent collapsed.
No—she thought he had.
Whoosh—
Suddenly Ilgeom shot through the air.
It passed them and flew toward the doorway, reaching an intruder who had slipped in unnoticed.
The blade, shining white, slid smoothly into a scabbard densely plastered with talismans, which the intruder held aloft. After receiving Ilgeom, the mysterious man executed lightness skill and vanished from sight.
Dang Mae-ryeong shouted,
“Do not let them escape! If… if Cheon Mu-ryeong has truly returned… we must capture them and confirm whether that truly is Ilgeom—!”
Yeo Il seized Jin Cheong-ak’s arm as he moved to pursue.
Beneath the mask, his gaze questioned her. Yeo Il slowly shook her head.
Jin Cheong-ak stopped where he was.
Dang Mae-ryeong’s voice sharpened.
“What are you doing? If we delay, Ilgeom will be lost!”
“Let it go.”
“Let it go? What nonsense is that?”
“If you take Ilgeom, Cheon Mu-ryeong will come personally to reclaim it. Can you truly withstand Cheon Mu-ryeong?”
“……That…”
A lesser martial artist might have boasted of the Murim Alliance Leader and the gathered masters.
Dang Mae-ryeong was not so foolish.
She had witnessed Cheon Mu-ryeong’s martial prowess with her own eyes in her youth.
At the mention of his name, she bit her lip in frustration but did not argue further. At times like this, Cheon Mu-ryeong’s reputation was useful.
Yeo Il sheathed her sword.
[I’ve found you.]
The voice lingered in her mind, carved deep and refusing to fade.
It was Cheon Mu-ryeong.
Had those words been meant for her?
A foolish question.
Among countless possibilities, he was a man who always chose the worst outcome.
It was difficult to believe.
Through only a few exchanges of blades—through mere manipulation of a puppet—he had pierced her disguise and discerned her identity.
After her rebirth through transformation, no one had recognized her face. Even Jin Myo, who had known her for so long, had denied the truth.
But the opponent was Cheon Mu-ryeong.
Only as expected could suffice.
Then why attack the Murim Alliance?
He must have wanted something.
What had compelled him to move personally, even employing sorcery?
Dang Mae-ryeong, watching Yeo Il with complicated eyes, struggled to her feet.
“Then… was that sword truly Ilgeom?”
“……”
“A woman wielding a shining blade killed a peddler less than half a shichen ago. Ilgeom, like Wolgeom, chooses its master. How could anyone else wield Cheon Mu-ryeong’s blade?”
“Then the peddler must have lied.”
“I… suppose so. In any case, thank you. Because of you, both I and Plum Blossom Cloud Sword live. This debt must be repaid. Tell me your name.”
Yeo Il looked at Dang Mae-ryeong, who could barely stand, then turned away.
“Wait! You are leaving just like this—Daoist Bang Woo?”
The faint presence that had nearly faded stirred weakly.
But Yeo Il did not turn.
“Do not move recklessly, Daoist Bang Woo. You may truly worsen your condition. I will seek help.”
“Cough, cough.”
Labored groans followed from behind.
After struggling to draw breath—
“……I knew at once he was not Wolgeom Ilsal.”
“……”
“He was different… from my memory. In every way… too many to list….”
Perhaps recalling Mount Hua’s tragedy, Dang Mae-ryeong fell silent, watching Bang Woo with conflicted eyes.
Yeo Il continued walking.
“I will not seek to know who you are.”
But Bang Woo’s strained voice persisted, hollow and exhausted.
“I will not follow you… nor ask your name… nor demand the truth of anything….”
“……Daoist Bang Woo?”
As Dang Mae-ryeong voiced her confusion, Yeo Il continued toward the door.
Jin Cheong-ak, however, reacted in her stead.
Tilting his head several times in exaggerated amusement, he leaned back as though laughing—without making a sound.
Bang Woo clenched his teeth and bowed deeply.
“So… I beg you. Spare just one person.”
Rustle.
From within his robes, he produced an old jade ornament.
The wager token of Cheonmyeon Magwi.
The ornament that had once hung from Jin Myo’s sword.
It slipped from his grasp and rolled across the floor.
Ignoring it, Bang Woo staggered forward, heavier than ever.
“There is no one else I can ask. I… I will guide you myself. Behind the Murim Alliance, up the secluded slope… there is an abandoned house—westward…”
“Come to your senses, Daoist Bang Woo! Where do you think you are going in that condition?”
Dang Mae-ryeong tried to support him, but he pushed her aside, pleading desperately.
“Sect Leader, find the Alliance Leader at once… In our condition, it is impossible. Or someone… someone trustworthy enough to face Cheonmyeon Magwi….”
“Cheonmyeon Magwi? Daoist Bang Woo! Wake up!”
Bang Woo collapsed heavily.
Even then, Yeo Il did not turn.
A massive presence had entered the corridor.
The Murim Alliance Leader.
“Bang Woo, Sect Leader. Are you well?”
“Heavens… Daoist Bang Woo? He lives, does he not?”
Behind him stood the General Administrator, Murong Sang-hui.
His condition was peculiar—his breathing ragged, a swollen bruise beneath his jaw. A fresh injury.
Murong Sang-hui hurried toward Bang Woo and Dang Mae-ryeong.
The Murim Alliance Leader, however, remained where he stood, staring at Yeo Il.
His gaze was steady and unwavering, as though piercing through her disguise.
“Wait.”
His shadow loomed before her, vast and oppressive.
“I do not know who you are, but I would have you pause for a moment. Is that acceptable?”
The request was both a plea and a warning.
And in part—a threat.