Chapter 1
Prologue
The child was an orphan.
Abandoned so very early that he did not even have a name.
That is, until he met Bu Jan-yang, an undertaker who specialized in arranging funerals for those who had died away from home.
—So you were hiding in the snow, were you...
A winter when the biting north wind blew.
Beneath a snow-laden tree, Bu Jan-yang looked down at the child huddled there and extended his hand.
—Will you not come with me?
The child, who had been sitting with unfocused eyes, reached out a hand frozen white as the flesh of a fish.
And that child took Bu Jan-yang's surname and came to be given the name Eun-seol.
Peaceful Burial House.
It was a small funeral parlor that, upon reports from the Magistrate's Office, primarily prepared the bodies of those who had died away from home or had no known kin.
Inside Peaceful Burial House.
Upon the wooden embalming table—the place where the deceased was laid—rested the body of a middle-aged man.
And before it stood a white-haired old man and a young boy, facing each other.
They were none other than Bu Jan-yang, the undertaker who ran Peaceful Burial House, and Bu Eun-seol.
"Hmm."
Bu Eun-seol was examining the body laid upon the embalming table with an intensely serious gaze.
"Seol-a."
"Yes."
Bu Eun-seol, who had been studying the body closely, opened his eyes wide.
With skin white as snow and black eyes, had his dark eyebrows been trimmed into crescents, his features were such that he could have been mistaken for a girl.
"Now, try telling me."
"Let me examine it once more."
But unlike his beautiful appearance, Bu Eun-seol's voice was cold and low.
It was a low, dry voice, like the harsh wind of midwinter.
"Hm."
Letting out a thoughtful hum, Bu Eun-seol studied the body carefully and spoke.
"He appears to be from the murim."
"From the murim?"
"Yes. Judging by his balanced musculature, it seems he trained in martial arts from childhood."
A faint smile on his lips, Bu Jan-yang blinked deliberately.
"Why do you say that? His body is gaunt, and there are no calluses on his hands."
Shaking his head, Bu Jan-yang pointed to both hands of the corpse.
"Swordsmen who have learned the sword always have calluses embedded in their grip. But this fellow has no such marks."
Sword practitioners who train in sword techniques every day naturally develop calluses in their grip from clenching the sword hilt.
But the body before them had hands as soft as a woman's, with no trace of calluses whatsoever.
"In the murim, there are hand arts such as the Jade-Breaking Hand or the Heavenly Star Hand. If one masters a special hand art, the calluses on the hands disappear."
"Then are you saying this fellow is a sword adept who has mastered a special hand art?"
"No."
Bu Eun-seol shook his head with confidence.
"This man did not practice any hand art."
"Then why does a man who uses the sword lack the characteristics that appear in swordsmen?"
"Because this man is an adept of the Ground-Lying Swift Sword."
"Oh? And why is that?"
Smiling faintly, Bu Eun-seol pointed to the left thigh of the middle-aged man's corpse.
"This man's left leg has developed muscles abnormally, like an adept of leg techniques."
"He could simply be an adept of leg techniques."
"No. It is certain that he trained in the Ground-Lying Swift Sword, which can only be executed by planting the lower body firmly into the ground."
Bu Eun-seol pointed to the muscles of the middle-aged man's left leg, laid out upon the embalming table.
"If he were an adept of leg techniques, the muscles of his hips and the front of his thighs—which add power to kicks—would have developed."
Bu Eun-seol pointed to the sole of the corpse's foot and its calf.
"But this man has developed only the muscles at the front of his left calf most prominently. That is proof that he trained in the Ground-Lying Swift Sword."
"Ha ha ha."
Bu Jan-yang stroked Bu Eun-seol's head as though the boy were praiseworthy.
"There is nothing left for this old man to teach you."
It was always like this.
The old man and the boy would wipe down the bodies while discussing what the cause of death had been, what had been the fatal wound, and so on.
"Even an adept of the Ground-Lying Swift Sword could not avoid the Shadow Flying Darts in the end."
Bu Jan-yang pointed near the corpse's neck.
There, the wound gaped wide, like the twin wings of a butterfly.
"Most likely, when he was about to unleash his swift sword, they hurled the Shadow Flying Darts and severed his carotid artery in a single stroke. The enemies were probably two in number. And both of them, masters of hidden weapons."
Bu Jan-yang clicked his tongue and spoke in a low voice.
"To execute a one-strike kill with a fast sword, one must always be wary of the final move."
Bu Jan-yang began carefully wiping down the corpse while chatting with Bu Eun-seol about this and that.
"Oh-ho, this one's a crime of passion."
This time, the body that had been placed on the embalming table was that of a young man whose face had been brutally mutilated.
"The grudge must have reached its peak. That's why such wounds were inflicted."
Bu Jan-yang and Bu Eun-seol began the embalming with great care.
Growl.
Finally, when even the encoffining was finished, a loud sound erupted from Bu Eun-seol's stomach, as if signaling the end of the work.
"Hahaha. Your belly-clock is always so accurate."
When Bu Eun-seol lowered his head in embarrassment, Bu Jan-yang looked up at the sun that had risen to the middle of the sky.
"Shall we go eat at the guest inn tonight, for a change?"
"No. Let's just have noodles. I'll boil them deliciously for you."
When Bu Eun-seol shook his head calmly, Bu Jan-yang's expression darkened.
Undertakers who embalm those who died on the road.
They belong to the lowest class even among undertakers, and are treated worse than butchers.
On top of that, the terrible stench of death from the corpses never leaves their bodies.
People point fingers at them, calling them unlucky, and they are routinely turned away at the door of guest inns.
Knowing this, Bu Eun-seol rarely ventured outside of Peaceful Burial House.
"Alright. Let's do that, then."
The old man and the young boy sat on the wooden platform and began eating their noodles.
Although the only side dish was pickled radish, Bu Eun-seol was able to eat deliciously, and happily.
Because it was warm food he could never have dared to eat during his orphan days.
And there was Bu Jan-yang, a grandfather who gave him a gaze even warmer than that.
"What are you staring at?"
"Oh, no, nothing."
Whatever the case, Bu Eun-seol was happy.
He wished that these days would stretch on forever, that this life would continue for a long, long time.
Deep night.
An oil lamp was lit in the single-room dwelling of Peaceful Burial House.
Bu Jan-yang sat at the wooden table reading a book, while Bu Eun-seol was fast asleep in the corner of the room.
"That's wrong."
"Hm?"
"It's certain that it wasn't stabbed from behind, but rather the weapon was fixed in place, and he was pushed onto it."
Even in his dreams, Bu Eun-seol was embalming and analyzing causes of death.
"That boy. He's truly a heaven-sent undertaker."
Bu Jan-yang smiled softly as he watched him.
The boy was a grandson so precious that putting him in his eye wouldn't hurt.
In truth, he had never married, nor had he ever had children. But after taking in Bu Eun-seol, he had come to know the true flavor of life.
That is, the happiness called warmth.
Whoosh.
At that moment, the sound of wind blowing came from far away.
But Bu Jan-yang, with his keen hearing, surmised that the sound was the Sound of Breaking Air produced when executing a frighteningly fast Lightness Skill.
"..."
Bu Jan-yang rose to his feet, his face hardening coldly.
Those who come are not good, and those who are good do not come.
A person with good intentions does not visit, and a person who visits does not have good intentions.
"Hoo."
Bu Jan-yang extinguished the oil lamp and quietly left the room.
Then he opened the Great Gate and slowly stepped outside.
Whooosh.
As a bleak wind blew, the pitch-black sky seemed to be dyed in even deeper darkness.
Bu Jan-yang stood tall before the Great Gate with his eyes closed.
He appeared to be lost in deep thought, but in truth, he was using the Peak-level Strike Air & Steal Hearing Skill to thoroughly search the area within three thousand feet.
"So that's how it was."
When he opened his eyes again, Bu Jan-yang muttered with a devastated expression.
Then he went back into the room and woke Bu Eun-seol.
"Seol-a."
"Yes? Huh?"
"Shall we play the Corpse Game again today?"
"At this hour of the night?"
Bu Jan-yang spoke in an affectionate voice to Bu Eun-seol, who was rubbing his eyes.
"This Corpse Game is a little different. You must absolutely not come out until the sun rises."
"Until the sun rises?"
"Yes. If you succeed this time, I'll get you the vestment and Peach Wood Sword you've been begging for."
"The vestment and the Peach Wood Sword?"
Bu Eun-seol's eyes flew open.
Because he was still young, there were no vestments or Peach Wood Swords that fit him, so he had always pestered Bu Jan-yang.
But Bu Jan-yang had always refused, saying he was not yet old enough to use a vestment and Peach Wood Sword.
"I'll do it right away."
When the excited Bu Eun-seol tried to get into one of the standing coffins, Bu Jan-yang waved his hand.
"This time, you'll be going into the Iron Coffin."
"The Iron Coffin?"
The Iron Coffin was, as its name suggested, a coffin made of iron.
Long ago, when Bu Eun-seol had asked what the iron coffin was for, Bu Jan-yang had answered like this:
—This is the coffin this old man will use when he dies.
"I don't want that. The iron coffin..."
Sensing something strange, Bu Eun-seol shook his head, and Bu Jan-yang smiled a benevolent smile.
"Don't you worry. This old man is just testing you before buying you your vestments and peachwood sword."
"Really?"
"Of course. When has this old man ever broken a promise?"
As he gently stroked the boy's head, Bu Eun-seol grinned and nodded.
"Alright!"
Clang.
As he watched Bu Eun-seol climb into the iron coffin, Bu Jan-yang's eyes grew dim.
'That boy.'
Whoosh.
Just then, the sound of breaking air came again, and the face of Bu Jan-yang, which had been wearing a smile, stiffened rigidly.
Step. Step.
With a cold expression, he walked out through the great gate and stood tall, like a village guardian post.
How much time had passed?
"Seven Fingers Demonic Blade, Bu Jan-yang."
A low voice reached Bu Jan-yang's ears.
"You've finally been caught by the tail."
When Bu Jan-yang opened his eyes, a man in black robes was approaching, his body held perfectly erect.
It was truly astonishing lightness skill.
"Seven Fingers Demonic Blade."
Bu Jan-yang let out a deep sigh.
"That is a name I have not heard in a long time."
Seven Fingers Demonic Blade, Bu Jan-yang.
The Demon Path's Foremost Bladesman.
A martial arts fanatic who cut off three of his own fingers to cultivate a tyrannical saber technique.
The Great Killing Star who hunted down and mercilessly slaughtered countless renowned chivalrous heroes of the righteous faction, and even retired masters of the previous generation who had gone into seclusion.
This demon sovereign, who had once made the murim tremble in fear, had even risen to the position of Vice Alliance Leader of the Demon Hall—what could be called the alliance of the demonic martial world.
He was, in truth, a master who had achieved every glory a martial artist could attain.
"So you wanted to live like that."
The man in black looked at Bu Jan-yang with a cold smile.
"You turned your back on the position of Vice Alliance Leader of the Demon Hall and vanished... and now you hide like a rat, doing undertaker's work that even vagrants shun. It's enough to make a dog laugh."
"Ha ha ha."
Bu Jan-yang let out a low laugh and shook his head.
"The reason this old man took up undertaker's work was to atone for the wrongs he had committed."
"Atonement?"
"For those who died by this old man's hand, under the pretext of protecting the peace of the murim."
As he continued speaking, a stillness settled over Bu Jan-yang's eyes.
"But the Martial Alliance has once again... created a person just like this old man."
Bu Jan-yang could surmise that the man in black was doing exactly what he himself had done in the past.
"Indeed, it would be troublesome if this old man remained alive. For I am the greatest shame of the righteous faction."
"If you understand, then take your own life."
"In the end, you too will be discarded, just like me. Miserably."
"You worry about all sorts of things."
The man in black spoke with a confident face.
"Do you think this body will be reduced to a tool for slaughtering masters of the orthodox and unorthodox paths, like you?"
"The ending of a spy who hides his true identity, wanders the murim, and slaughters masters is always the same. Is it not?"
In truth, Bu Jan-yang had not been a mad killing star who slaughtered masters of the orthodox and unorthodox paths, but a double spy whom the Martial Alliance had raised with all its might.
"The Martial Alliance has long produced double agents like this old man and yourself. To slaughter righteous faction members who were thorns in their eyes. To cook the righteous faction to their own taste and reign over the murim."
"You certainly talk a lot."
"I say this because I walked the same path before you."
The man in black scoffed.
"Are you asking me to treat you as a senior?"
"How could that be? There is no rank among spies."
Wearing a bitter smile, Bu Jan-yang shook his head.
"I am advising you to stop this kind of work, even now."
"That is tearfully kind of you."
The man in black shook his head and pulled out a command plaque from his waist.
"Bu Jan-yang. Do not think that just because you went through such things, others will go through the same."
The plaque the man held out gleamed with five colors, and the characters 'Star Guard' were engraved upon it.
It was a token marking him as a member of the Star Guard Corps, one of the Seven Great Battle Groups of the Martial Alliance.
"This person is different from you. I did not hide my identity, but openly registered myself as a member of the Martial Alliance. From now on, I will be on the fast track to success."
The man in black wore a smile full of ambition.
"Once I deal with you, I will receive at least the position of deputy corps commander... perhaps even corps commander."
"I see."
Bu Jan-yang let out a heavy breath.
"You truly are different from me."
The man in black was indeed a different kind of person from himself.
For he had not merely been raised by the Martial Alliance and followed its orders—he was baring his fangs to swallow the Martial Alliance itself.
"If you understand, then die quietly."