The Ghost Spirit King
“To tell the truth, the reason I led our forces to Hubei was because of the Ghost Spirit King. Had he entered the fray, our losses would have been catastrophic.”
Namgung Ja-un could not afford to underestimate the Ghost Spirit King's capabilities. Allowing someone like that to harvest high-grade jiangshi from a blood-soaked battlefield where countless lives were being snuffed out? Even if it meant leaving Anhui temporarily vulnerable, he could never permit such a horror to unfold.
Yet, contrary to his expectations, the Ghost Spirit King had not made a move. It was improbable that news from Hubei had failed to reach him. Though the internal structure of the Demon Blood Divine Cult remained veiled in shadow, could its high-ranking commanders truly lack communication?
In the end, the timely intervention of Namgung Ja-un and the Namgung Clan had secured victory in the battle. Even so, many valiant martial artists had laid their bones to rest upon that bloodied earth.
To commemorate their sacrifice, the people of Hubei bestowed upon the conflict a solemn name: the Calamity of Hubei.
What phrase could have been more fitting? The entire war had been a tragedy born of misunderstandings and terrible coincidence. Though victory had been won, the price extracted was staggering.
“As you know, Hebei is quite a distance away, making it difficult to mobilize our clan's forces,” Namgung Ja-un continued. “Without exposing the Ghost Spirit King's true identity, we have no pretext to act.”
“I understand.”
“It is truly a blessing that you possessed this intelligence. So please, I ask this of you: journey to Hebei and stop the Ghost Spirit King. I will provide every measure of support at my disposal.”
Namgung Ja-un did not bow his head, yet he set aside all pride befitting the head of a great clan to request Ryeong's aid. The final sword technique she had displayed that day had struck him to his very core. If he could enlist her strength, he was prepared to grant whatever lay within his reach.
Ryeong fell into contemplation. With the Red Cloud Divine Sword, she had no need of another blade. Was there any weapon she urgently required?
There was only one answer.
“I would like a finely forged dagger.”
“A dagger?”
“Yes. Though I am a disciple of Mount Jongnam now, before that, I lived as the disciple of Cheonsal.”
“…!”
Ryeong revealed her past without reservation. Knowing Namgung Ja-un was not the sort of man to turn hostile over such a revelation, she chose to seize the initiative.
Just as expected, shock flickered across his face, yet his demeanor did not waver. A true chivalric hero of the righteous path stood before her.
“I knew your stance wouldn't change. Do you understand me a little better now?”
“The disciple of Cheonsal… Now I see where those nimble, unearthly movements of yours came from.”
“I trust you will keep this between us.”
“Naturally. If you truly are Cheonsal's disciple, you've likely already calculated how to assassinate me should the need arise.”
Namgung Ja-un was genuinely unfazed. Whatever someone's past had been, he was the kind of leader who judged a person by who they were in the present. And just as he had observed, had things gone south, she was fully prepared to slit his throat—whether she would succeed was another matter. Had he shown even the slightest sign of malice, she would never have disclosed the truth in the first place.
Nodding, Ryeong continued, “I would appreciate a dagger of exceptional quality. Scavenging whatever happens to lie nearby has blunted the lethal impact of my strikes.”
“Before you set out for the Ghost Spirit King, visit our main residence in Anhui. I shall reward you properly. Do not take too long to arrive, however.”
That concluded her conversation with Namgung Ja-un. With this, Ryeong had forged amicable ties with three of the Five Great Clans. While the Tang Family remained ambiguous, she was in a position where she could squeeze benefits out of them at will.
Her next destination would naturally be the Hebei region, domain of the Paeng Family. If she plotted her course eastward from there, she might cross paths with the Moyong Family of Liaoning, or knock upon the gates of the Yue Family in Shandong.
What kind of power the Ghost Spirit King commanded remained an enigma. But if his abilities were confined to those of an occult sorcerer who manipulated souls…
There's no way in hell I'd lose.
Through the Celestial Immortal Divine Art, she had reached the threshold of communing with spirits. Moreover, the souls bound to the Ghost Spirit King desperately yearned to break free from his grasp.
Once she accurately assessed the depths of the bastard's martial prowess, attempting an assassination single-handedly would pose no problem. If he had mastered martial arts comparable to his occult sorcery, she would need to deliberate carefully before striking. Even so, failure didn't seem in the cards. Hebei was dominated by the Paeng Family, leaving the Unorthodox Factions unable to flex their muscles.
Though belligerent to a fault, the Hebei Paeng Family was notorious for reckless bravado, stopping at nothing if it meant garnering glory and renown. Would they pass up a chance to bring down the Ghost Spirit King? Not a chance.
Now all that's left is convincing that guy.
The one who always blocked her path whenever she attempted something reckless.
Jin Yeong was the paragon of a righteous Taoist. Despite his youth, he faithfully embodied how a true practitioner of the Way ought to conduct himself. How on earth was she supposed to persuade him to tag along? Exiting the Namgung Clan's pavilion, Ryeong racked her brain.
“The Sword Empress?”
“That is what the common folk in the marketplace call you,” Jin Yeong replied. “They say the surviving warriors coined the moniker after witnessing your final sword form.”
“Imagine living long enough to be called the Sword Empress. I never saw that coming.”
Returning to her quarters, Ryeong heard the unexpected news from Jin Yeong: her martial moniker had become the Sword Empress. Calling Cheonsal the Sword Empress? She couldn't fathom where things had gone so wildly off the rails.
Did it really leave that deep an impression?
Ryeong, who had plunged from the heavens executing Slaughtering Wings' Heavenly Descent, couldn't fully comprehend it. But those watching from below had forgotten the brutality of war, transfixed in pure ecstasy. Plunging from the skies enveloped in sacred, blazing radiance—it had been more than enough to evoke the mythical Vermilion Bird.
Jin Yeong had felt no differently. What she displayed was a majestic display of divine swordsmanship, easily enough to turn the surviving warriors into her most fervent devotees. The title Sword Empress was by no means an exaggeration.
“Bwahaha! To think our band would follow the grand Sword Empress! We'll have to change the sect's name at once!”
“You lost an arm and you're still laughing?”
“Surviving a war like that is a blessing in itself, my Lord! Thanks to that, I can keep serving by your side.”
“Right. Staying alive is what counts, even if you lost an arm. I'm glad you didn't die, Gwi Hu-jin.”
“It is an honor!”
Gwi Hu-jin pondered what to rename their band. Given their roots in the unorthodox underworld, completely severing ties with their origins was out of the question. Still, to follow in Ryeong's footsteps, they could not remain in the dark shadows.
“How about the Ghost Sovereign Saber Band? What do you think?”
“Sounds tacky. But it makes it crystal clear who you're following, so do as you like.”
“Then Gwi Hu-jin, leader of the Ghost Sovereign Saber Band, shall offer a cup of wine to Lord Ryeong!”
When Ryeong extended her cup, Gwi Hu-jin poured the wine with a beaming grin. And so, the night deepened.
The following day, Ryeong paid a visit to the Jegal Clan. Jegal Hon-gun, leader of the coalition that subjugated the Demon Blood Divine Cult, had invited her.
She had offered to bring Jin Yeong along, but he chose to stay behind. He had stated he needed time to sort through his martial insights, so she had not pressed him. Having stepped into the Transcendent Realm amid the crucible of war, revelations would strike him like sudden flashes of lightning. Disturbing him at such a time would do more harm than good.
Upon arriving at the Jegal Clan's estate, Ryeong was escorted straight to the clan head's study as an honored guest. Inside sat Jegal Hon-gun, swathed in bandages, attending to clan affairs.
As expected of the man leading the Jegal Clan. Working without rest despite wounds like that.
The expeditionary force had suffered relatively few casualties largely thanks to Jegal Hon-gun. His keen tactical placements had preserved the coalition's battle lines. Naturally, standing at the vanguard had left Jegal Hon-gun with grave internal injuries. Wounds that warranted immediate bed rest, yet he was calmly handling paperwork.
“Please, have a seat. Things have been frantic, so I could only make time to speak with you now.”
“Greetings, Clan Head Jegal. Shouldn't you be resting? I understand your internal injuries are severe.”
“The war has only just ended. When my heart aches to console those who perished unjustly on the battlefield, how could I brazenly rest?”
His complexion looked ghastly. Left unchecked, the damage would fester into a chronic affliction, dragging him straight to the grave. Ryeong rose and stepped toward him. Knowing she harbored no ill intent, Jegal Hon-gun did not stop her.
“Will you trust me? I cannot grant a complete cure, but I can purge the turbid qi plaguing you.”
“Purge the turbid qi…? Have you studied the healing arts as well?”
“Consider it a special technique. Give me your hand.”
Without a hint of suspicion, Jegal Hon-gun extended his arm. If she had wanted to kill him, he would already be dead; the divine might she displayed that day had thoroughly dispelled every shred of doubt from his heart.
Taking Jegal Hon-gun's pulse, Ryeong found his meridian pathways terribly entangled. It wasn't merely internal damage—demonic qi was aggressively exacerbating his wounds. While purging the turbid impurities, Ryeong channeled her power to expel the demonic corruption as well. No demonic qi or turbid filth could withstand the sacred vitality of the Celestial Immortal Divine Art.
Fwoooosh!
“This… is an entirely new world.”
“How does your body feel?”
“Immeasurably better. It is all thanks to you, Young Lady.”
Jegal Hon-gun gazed at Ryeong in disbelief, the goodwill in his eyes unmistakable.
It was the moment another steadfast ally was won.