The Four Divine Beasts Sword
The following day, an emergency general assembly convened by the Council of Elders quickly took on the air of an interrogation, with the elders attempting to corner Ryeong and Jinyeong. But Ryeong, just as she had prepared, brandished the issue of the Red Cloud Divine Sword. Tempers flared, and venomous words flew across the hall until swords were nearly drawn; had Dang Jin not actively intervened on her behalf, the assembly would have erupted into an immediate duel to the death on the spot.
"I will speak with the elders on your behalf," Dang Jin had assured her. "Please, feel at ease and stay as long as you wish, Lady Ryeong."
"Every shred of goodwill I had for this place has already evaporated. Why would I linger? I'm leaving right now."
"...I truly apologize. The Tang Family never forgets a debt of gratitude. Should you ever call upon us, Lady Ryeong, the entire clan will mobilize at your command."
"I hope those aren't just empty words. If you'll excuse us, we'll be taking our leave."
With that, Ryeong led Jinyeong out of the Tang Family Fortress. If not for Dang Jin, blood would have certainly spilled between her and the Tang Clan. Having already attained the Realm of Transformation, she could have eradicated the entire family single-handedly if she set her mind to it. Wiping them out in a single day might be a stretch, but if she dedicated an entire month to hunting them from the shadows, it was well within her power.
As an orthodox sect, the Tang Clan held countless prisoners locked within their subterranean prisons. By turning those captives loose to sow chaos from within while systematically whittling down the family's top masters one by one, not even the renowned Sichuan Tang Family could have prevented their total annihilation.
The fools had no idea how close they had danced to ruin. It was only because Ryeong's assassin instincts had mellowed considerably that they had narrowly avoided the extinction of their bloodline.
"Where are we heading now?" Jinyeong asked.
"Hubei. Since we've already come this far, shouldn't we drop by Mount Wudang?"
"It sounds like you don't have a concrete plan. Shouldn't we map out an itinerary first?"
"Nothing in this life ever goes according to plan. Just look at the mess with the Tang Family. You set a broad framework and adjust the details on the fly. Just follow me."
Jinyeong followed behind her with a troubled expression. For someone who placed utmost importance on meticulous planning, this reckless, improvisational style was deeply unsettling.
Ryeong, on the other hand, was someone who lived without the burden of forward planning. What use did an assassin have for grandiose schemes? When a contract came in, you took the target's life; when you needed coin, you stole it. That was all there was to it.
Having walked completely opposite paths in life, their values were fundamentally incompatible. Of course, regardless of how badly Jinyeong wished to formulate a proper strategy, Ryeong held all the decision-making authority. He had no choice but to follow in silence.
"Have you gotten the hang of the Ghost Soul Steps yet?"
"The Wind Cloud Steps still come more naturally, but the Ghost Soul Steps feel like a better fit."
"Naturally. Unorthodox arts have far more practical combat utility than the orthodox rubbish. Not that I'm bashing the righteous path, mind you, but most of them ruin their footwork just to show off some ridiculous, pointless vanity."
Ryeong herself did not use the footwork she had learned at Mount Jongnam. While their sword forms were respectable, Jongnam's footwork was, in her eyes, sheer trash.
The most glaring example was the Lazy Donkey Roll. Orthodox practitioners considered rolling on the ground a humiliating disgrace, yet unorthodox fighters treated it as a perfectly legitimate tactic. Did one care about outward dignity and saving face, or did one care about surviving? That single distinction drew the line of practicality between orthodox and unorthodox martial arts.
Sure, techniques where lives hung in the balance were honed into lethal instruments. But when it came to footwork, the orthodox sects acted like stuffy, self-righteous scholars, throwing survival and practicality straight to the dogs.
Ryeong despised that hypocrisy. Martial arts were forged to kill and conquer, not to cultivate personal moral refinement. If you wanted moral refinement, go sit in a corner and meditate. Her disdain for the orthodox sects stemmed precisely from that duplicity.
Using arts created to slaughter people while preaching about maintaining peace? What an utter joke. That wasn't peace—it was merely an enforced status quo maintained through overwhelming violence.
"Once you're completely comfortable with the Ghost Soul Steps, you won't even look at the Flowing Cloud Steps again. It's a superb technique, so make sure you master it. Understood?"
"Of course. Practicing it every day has been quite rewarding; I can feel my progress with each passing sunrise."
"Is that so? Well, to really hone your footwork, you ought to start running, right about now."
"...!"
Jinyeong flinched. The sly lilt at the end of Ryeong's voice was an omen of sheer disaster.
"My lady, do you have any idea how far Hubei is from here?"
"Oh? And here I was planning to take a break as soon as we cleared Sichuan, but you're ambitious enough to run all the way to Hubei?"
"N-no, that's not what I meant—"
"Well, if you insist, who am I to refuse? Let's sprint all the way to Hubei using nothing but the Ghost Soul Steps."
"...Are you trying to kill me?"
Jinyeong asked, his face draining of color. The excruciating memory of their mad sprint from Mount Jongnam to Sichuan was still freshly burned into his bones. Just imagining an even harsher trek made the strength drain right out of his limbs. Even if he had received a genuine Dokcheondan rather than a mass-produced dud as his reward, what idiot would waste such a precious elixir just to maintain a non-stop sprint?
"I'm not trying to kill you. But if we linger here, we're bound to tangle with the Green Forest. Up for a brawl?"
"The Green Forest strongholds in Sichuan aren't particularly formidable. To survive in the shadow of the Tang Family, they know better than to cross certain lines."
"So you're saying we should just wipe them out, then?"
"That's not what I—"
"To the Green Forest it is! Lead the way this time."
Jinyeong let out a deep sigh at her brazen, steamrolling antics. He had known for a while now that trying to talk reason to her was an exercise in futility. One moment she declared they were heading to Hubei, and the next she decided to subjugate a bandit stronghold. Yet what could he do? She held all the authority; he couldn't simply ignore her orders.
"We are still within the boundaries of Chengdu, so we'll have to travel further out. Bandits wouldn't dare establish a lair within the Tang Family's immediate territory."
"Sounds great. I'm counting on you, then! Let's erase a Green Forest lair from the face of this earth."
"Squad Leader! Urgent news!"
"What is it?"
"Dang Cheol-ryeong is dead! Furthermore, the Red Cloud Divine Sword has vanished from the Tang Bastion—ghk!"
"What kind of dogshit nonsense are you spewing? Who died, and what vanished?!"
The man with bloodshot eyes seized his subordinate by the throat. It was an impulsive lash of fury, born from an utter refusal to accept what his ears had just heard.
Even as his windpipe was crushed, the subordinate choked out, "F-forgive me, Commander!"
"Scour the perimeter of the Tang Bastion immediately! Find out every bastard who has entered or left the family grounds recently, and investigate where they are and what they're doing right now! Move!"
"By your command!"
The moment the red-eyed man released his grip, the subordinate scrambled to his feet and rushed off to carry out the orders. Left alone, the man felt an unbearable, suffocating rage boiling up from deep within his chest at this unforeseen turn of events.
Damn it all. I should never have listened to that bastard.
When the red-eyed commander first made contact with Dang Cheol-ryeong, the agreement was simple: in exchange for teaching the elder how to exploit the internal energy of the Red Cloud Divine Sword, Dang Cheol-ryeong would mass-produce Dokcheondan and hand them over to him.
And in truth, by distributing those mass-produced elixirs to his subordinates, the average martial realm of his unit—the Blood Red Squad of the Demon Blood Divine Cult—had climbed significantly.
Yet now, the most critical piece of the pact—securing the Red Cloud Divine Sword itself—had slipped through his fingers. This failure alone was more than enough to cost him his head.
Ever since obtaining the Myriad Poison Ring, we haven't caught so much as a glimpse of the other sacred relics. It's far too early to lay hands on Wudang's Taiji Heavenly Tablet or Shaolin's Green Jade Buddhist Staff.
The man was one of the survivors of the covert raid launched against the Wudang Sect several months ago. Because the Demon Blood Divine Cult had not yet openly mobilized its full might, that operation had ended in catastrophic failure.
Had the martial commanders of the Cult taken the field, the outcome would have been entirely different.
However, direct orders had arrived from the Cult's central headquarters forbidding further moves against the Taiji Heavenly Tablet and the Green Jade Buddhist Staff for the time being. Instead, various units under the Demon Blood Divine Cult were scattered across the Central Plains, tasked with tracking down the remaining two sacred relics.
One of them was the Red Cloud Divine Sword, the heirloom of Mount Jongnam kept under the Tang Family's roof. Securing it had been assigned to the Blood Red Squad, the Cult's most decorated elite unit.
As for the other relic, its whereabouts remained completely unknown. Locating the artifacts took precedence above all else, which was why the Blood Red Squad had acted independently to claim the Red Cloud Divine Sword first.
And yet, the sword had vanished right beneath his nose. It was impossible for the man, Mu Ui-seong, not to be consumed by wrath.
Hours passed after the subordinate was dispatched before he finally returned, barely managing to dig up a fresh piece of intelligence.
"Two third-generation disciples of Mount Jongnam visited the Tang Bastion and departed only a short while ago."
"Third-generation disciples?"
Mu Ui-seong's brow furrowed. Third-generation disciples were mere fledglings, first-rate martial artists at best. Such brats had killed Dang Cheol-ryeong and made off with the Red Cloud Divine Sword? How could that make any sense?
Just as that disbelief crossed his mind, the scout dropped a bombshell.
"One of them is said to be a master of the Realm of Transformation."
"What? A mere third-generation disciple has reached the Realm of Transformation?! What kind of drivel is that?!"
"It is the undeniable truth, Commander. The spy we planted deep within the clan confirmed it."
Mu Ui-seong's pupils quivered violently. A third-generation disciple would barely be approaching twenty years of age, if not younger. And yet, already in the Realm of Transformation... He did not even need to imagine what kind of terrifying monster such an individual would become upon reaching full maturity.
"Do you know their location?"
"They departed not long ago, so they should still be within the borders of Sichuan."
"Tear through every inch of Chengdu and its surroundings! That monster must be slaughtered—for the sacred glory of our Cult!"
Mu Ui-seong's crimson eyes gleamed, completely consumed by madness.