Chapter 1070
Swish—!
The sound of flesh tearing echoed sharply, and blood sprayed through the air, leaving vivid streaks in its wake.
The leather whip moved with eerie agility, like a living serpent.
It skillfully avoided bones, striking only the softest flesh and muscles—precisely targeting the spots that would elicit screams with the slightest touch.
Swish—!
With every lash that danced through the air,
an excruciating pain spread—enough to make even a man like Fan Jiang or Zhang Da faint on the spot.
Yet the boy bound to the torture frame, Sambaek-ho, remained indifferent.
Though blood streamed down his back like a river and his lips were split open, he clenched his teeth without so much as a flinch.
No groans escaped him—only silence.
No agony—only apathy.
That unyielding spine only fueled the rage of the whip-wielding Seventh Instructor.
"Sambaek-ho!"
The voice of Seventh Instructor, a former Imperial Assassin, seethed with fury.
"You were the one guarding the Secret Vault that day!"
Seventh Instructor despised everything about Sambaek-ho.
Those hollow eyes that seemed to transcend worldly desires, that demeanor as if he had attained enlightenment like a high monk of the Buddhist Order.
His bizarre and alien aura disrupted the rigid hierarchy.
In a place where the strong should dominate and the weak should be crushed,
the ranks had split—some followed Sambaek-ho, while others envied him.
To Seventh Instructor, this very situation was an intolerable disgrace.
Swish—!
The whip sliced through the air once more.
"Speak! Who was the one who infiltrated the Secret Vault?!"
Behind his mask, Seventh Instructor's eyes flashed.
At his shout, Sambaek-ho slowly raised his head.
Blood trickled down his chin,
yet his gaze remained tranquil—like a star glimmering in pitch-black darkness.
After a long silence,
his cracked voice murmured softly through the training hall.
"...I don't know."
"You insolent bastard!"
Finally, unable to contain his fury, Seventh Instructor roared—
CRASH—!
—and the torture frame binding Sambaek-ho shattered under the whip's force.
The strike had been so powerful
that even the Ironhard Wood, harder than steel, splintered into fragments, scattering debris in all directions.
"Huff... Huff..."
Gasping for breath, Seventh Instructor delivered his verdict like a final sentence.
"Sambaek-ho. For three days, you will endure the Forbidden Kowtow Punishment in solitary confinement."
At that moment, the suffocating tension in the training hall was replaced by an icy terror.
Shiver...
The faces of some boys watching the punishment turned deathly pale as they trembled.
Forbidden Kowtow Punishment.
A punishment so cruel its very name froze souls.
On the surface, it was deceptively simple—
kneel, keep your eyes open, and press your forehead to the ground without moving.
But those who endured it long enough understood its true horror.
In that position,
blood rushed to the head, lower than the heart, creating unbearable pressure as if the brain would burst from swelling.
Forbidden even to close their eyes, prisoners saw nothing but the cold, damp floor of the cell.
Muscles twisted unnaturally, hardening like stone, while joints in the knees and ankles screamed as if being crushed.
Yet the physical torment was merely the prelude.
The true hell was the destruction of the mind.
The helplessness of being unable to control even one's own body made every second feel like an eternity.
Even the arrogant and formidable Chil-ho—
after just one day of the Forbidden Kowtow Punishment for breaking the rules—
had emerged a Crippled Person, struck mute for ten days from the shock.
And now... three days?
It was no different from a death sentence—condemning him to madness.
Shhh—
All eyes turned to Sambaek-ho.
"Please, spare me! I'll confess who went in!"
They expected desperate screams, begging for mercy with a full confession.
But the answer that left Sambaek-ho's lips froze the entire training hall.
"...Understood."
Not a trace of fear in his voice.
Sambaek-ho rose from the shattered frame without hesitation and strode toward the Underground Prison.
The boys watched his retreating back with a mix of horror and awe.
"Grrr..."
Seventh Instructor glared at Sambaek-ho's figure, his face twisted in frustration.
He wanted nothing more than to strike him dead on the spot, but the formidable Third Instructor shielded him...
For now, there was nothing he could do.
Drip.
As he emerged from the brief recollection, another stream of dark blood spilled from Yi Neung-so's lips.
Yet, a faint smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.
"Sambaek-ho was the light for the weak children. Had he not been there, most of the three hundred children would have died before even beginning their training."
"Sambaek-ho."
Bu Eun-seol murmured the name softly.
The grandfather who had been stronger and kinder than anyone else...
In his childhood, he had been called by that desolate name while honing his martial arts in the Blood Shaolin.
"I had talent with the spear. But I grew greedy and attempted to master the Heavenly Thunder Divine Art—only for the nerves in my right hand to sever."
The Black Divine Heavenly Lord gazed down at his right hand.
"That is why I needed the Golden Emperor Divine Pill and the White Immortal Spirit Water."
He spoke calmly, as if explaining something simple.
"They never intended to raise all three hundred children. They only wanted the most vicious, the most cunning, and the strongest among them."
"......"
"From that perspective, the medicine storage the children took turns guarding... was the perfect testing ground to sift out the real ones."
The instructors had the boys take turns guarding the medicine storage.
Because that itself was the most flawless and brutal training process.
Any boy who succumbed to temptation, clumsily stealing the spirit medicine and getting caught, was the first to be eliminated.
The weak were weeded out.
Those who lacked the courage to steal the medicine—or the strength to stop others from doing so—fell behind in the competition.
Or they were exploited by other children, becoming sacrificial lambs to be discarded.
Even those who trusted their comrades and tried to unite were betrayed and purged.
It was a harsh lesson: in the martial world, trust was nothing but a weakness.
"But the true purpose of the medicine storage was twofold. First, to maximize distrust and competition, cutting off any possibility of unity."
If even a single medicine went missing, the children would suspect each other.
Who stole it? What if someone steals during my shift and pins it on me?—such anxieties festered, ensuring they could never trust one another.
Moreover, if someone secretly consumed the medicine and grew stronger, it meant their own chances of survival dwindled.
Comrades were not allies to fight alongside.
They were potential rivals—enemies who would steal their opportunities.
"The second purpose was to find one who could dominate the rules."
The Absolute Demon Saber Project did not seek mere geniuses who blindly followed orders.
It wanted the finest individuals—those who could break the rules when necessary, manipulating circumstances to achieve the greatest outcome.
"Many stole the medicine unnoticed, even under surveillance. Some excelled in infiltration, stealth, and deception. Others were strategists who reaped benefits without stealing directly—pitting children against each other or luring them into traps."
The Black Divine Heavenly Lord gazed at the distant sky.
"Amidst the swirling temptations and threats... only one person, Sambaek-ho, continued his training in silence."
Then he looked back at his own right arm.
"And he turned a blind eye when I stole the medicine to heal my arm. For that, he was punished with a penalty akin to death."
Something hot and thick surged in Bu Eun-seol's chest.
The childhood of his grandfather—a story he had never heard before—unfolded before him like the pages of a picture book.
Even in a time when he had no power.
Even in that grueling life.
His grandfather had lived not for himself, but for others.
Thud.
At that moment, Yi Neung-so dropped to one knee.
Sssss—
Simultaneously, his fingertips began crumbling into dust.
Just as Jong Baek's body had collapsed uncontrollably after losing his Soul-Demon Magic Energy, Yi Neung-so—who had harbored an even more powerful form of it—was now turning to ashes.
"Be proud."
Even as his form disintegrated, Yi Neung-so looked up at Bu Eun-seol with a benevolent smile.
"To be his grandson."
Sssssss—
With those final words,
Yi Neung-so's body dissolved into dust, scattering in an instant.
Once a fellow disciple who had trained alongside his grandfather in the Blood Shaolin, Yi Neung-so had ultimately succumbed to the power of the True Demon and walked a different path.
Only in his final moment had he finally reclaimed himself.
"Not once."
In the empty space where Yi Neung-so had vanished, amidst the faintly dancing motes of light, Bu Eun-seol smiled with pride.
"Have I ever not been proud."
Plink.
A hot tear rolled down his cheek.
His grandfather was gone, but he lived on in the memories of countless people.
That noble will would be passed on to another, becoming an undying radiance.
An endless cycle of reincarnation.
Even the True Demon, with his immortal soul, could not accomplish such a thing.
A black afterimage split the void.
Bu Eun-seol, having pushed his movement technique to its limits, became like a shooting star, skimming across the land beneath his feet.
His destination was the Stone Gate Formation in Mount Zhong, where his grandfather and father had once clashed.
Though his body raced forward like a gale, his mind was caught in a whirlpool of chaos.
The information the Black Divine Heavenly Lord—no, Yi Neung-so—had revealed just before his death had shattered every assumption and belief Bu Eun-seol had ever held.
It was enough to make him question whether everything he had believed until now might be entirely different from the truth.
'It's too complicated.'
Even as he executed his movement technique, Bu Eun-seol sank deep into thought.
The True Demon, who he had assumed ruled the world through his minions, had not interfered in martial affairs at all.
Moreover, some of those minions were composed of the very superlative martial experts who had once stood at the pinnacle of the martial world.
And because the True Demon himself was the source of their power, if his minions perished, he could simply create new ones.
Some of those minions and bloodline descendants had even betrayed him—or attempted to surpass him.
And his grandfather... had possessed the Chain of Reincarnation, a power akin to divine authority.
'If Grandfather had the Chain of Reincarnation...'
Bu Eun-seol reached one inevitable conclusion.
'Then the True Demon is living as someone in this era.'
The True Demon had cast off the Chain of Reincarnation himself.
And he had turned a blind eye to the Absolute Demon Saber Project, which sought to implant divine power into a human body.
In other words—the True Demon was alive in this era.
Deliberately. Methodically.
He had passed the Chain of Reincarnation to his grandfather... or to someone else involved in the Absolute Demon Saber Project.
'But why?'
Though the exact process of reincarnation remained unclear, it was known that the True Demon was an eternal being, untouched by the concept of aging and death.
If he wished, he could end his own life at any time and be reborn in a new body.
So why would he agree to research transferring the Chain of Reincarnation to another human's flesh?
Could it be... that after living so long, he had grown weary of existence?
That he had sought to pass it on to someone else?
That pure demon...?
"What's certain is that the Chain of Reincarnation can be transferred."
The primordial authority that only the True Demon was said to possess—
The fact that it could be passed to a human had been proven through his grandfather.
Which meant that even now... someone out there might be wrapped in that chain.
Before long, the scenery shifted to reveal two towering cliffs, rising so high they seemed to pierce the heavens, standing face to face.
A little further, nestled snugly against the backdrop of a majestic mountain, a quiet village came into view.
The modest houses, arranged in layers, were surrounded by fields of crops glistening under the sunlight.
'Why...?'
As he arrived at Stone Gate Formation in a single breath, Bu Eun-seol found himself troubled by a strange thought.
The land looked fertile, the village livable—yet it felt like a ghost town, with barely any people in sight.
The buildings didn't even seem that old.
Almost as if someone had rebuilt the village from scratch.
"I'll find out once I investigate."
Instead of disguising himself, Bu Eun-seol covered his face with a cloth and adjusted the position of his Ink Soul Sword so it was clearly visible at his waist.
In remote villages like this, it was often quicker to announce himself as a martial artist outright—
At least then, he could gather information without unnecessary delays.
Surveying his surroundings, Bu Eun-seol ventured deeper into the village.
A few villagers came into view.
But their eyes held wariness and fear, and some immediately scurried back into their homes upon seeing him.
'Hm.'
Something was off.
Even for a remote mountain village, this level of hostility toward outsiders was unusual.
"Excuse me."
Just then, a gaunt old man emerged from deeper within the village, walking slowly toward Bu Eun-seol before speaking politely.
"Might I ask what business brings you to our humble village, martial artist?"
Unlike the other villagers, the old man's voice and gaze were calm and composed.
'He's no ordinary elder.'
His demeanor was that of a battle-hardened veteran who had weathered countless battlefields.
However, his vision seemed poor—he kept squinting, and a thin trail of tears trickled from his eyes.
Likely, he was someone of status in the village, perhaps its chief.
'Where do I even begin?'
There was no way an old man from a simple mountain village would know about the Black Divine Heavenly Lord or the True Demon.
But he couldn't exactly dump the entire story on him either.
"By any chance..."
After a long moment of hesitation, Bu Eun-seol asked simply:
"Has there ever been a great calamity in this village?"
For an instant, the old man's eyes wavered like rippling water. But then he shook his head indifferently.
"Our village is home to herb gatherers who sell medicinal plants from the deep mountain valleys. What calamity could there possibly be?"
"Then have martial artists never come to this place before?"
"Occasionally, martial artists would visit to procure rare medicinal herbs, but nothing particularly noteworthy ever happened."
It was immediately obvious that he was lying.
This old man isn't the type to divulge secrets easily.
Just looking at the old man's expression told Bu Eun-seol everything.
This was someone who had weathered countless hardships—someone who had transcended fear and suffering itself.
But torturing him for answers was out of the question... There was simply no way to force his mouth open.
He must have believed I could uncover the truth, which is why he revealed this place to me.
From the moment Yi Neung-so recognized Bu Eun-seol as the grandson of that man, he had spoken of the Stone Gate Formation.
Then... I must reveal my true identity.
Swoosh.
After a moment of hesitation, Bu Eun-seol finally removed his face covering.
If this man knew anything about his grandfather—or even his father—he might recognize him.
But the moment the old man saw Bu Eun-seol's bare face—
"Gah—!"
A strangled gasp escaped the previously composed elder before he suddenly dropped to his knees in a deep bow.
"You've finally returned, Benefactor!"
He's mistaking me for my father.
Save for the sharpness of his eyes, Bu Eun-seol's features were an exact replica of his father, Baekri Mu-ha.
The old man's vision was poor, and with the veil gone, Bu Eun-seol's face and aura bore such an uncanny resemblance to Baekri Mu-ha that he had mistaken him for the same person entirely.
"You've hardly changed at all, benefactor."
"I believe you've mistaken me for someone else, elder."
Bu Eun-seol spoke frankly.
"Are you perhaps confusing me with my late father?"
"Your... father?"
Only then did the old man lean in close enough for their noses to nearly touch before letting out another shocked exclamation.
"You mean to say you are the benefactor's son?"
Bu Eun-seol nodded.
"I came here after hearing that my father once resided in this village while I was investigating my father's past."
Then, with solemn respect, he pressed his palms together.
"If you know anything of his whereabouts, I humbly ask that you share it with me."
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly at Bu Eun-seol's dignified yet unyielding demeanor.
In truth, he was no mere herb gatherer—he was a retired military officer, a veteran who had survived countless battles before settling in this village late in life and even becoming its chief.
His keen insight and ability to read people were honed by experience, and he could tell that Bu Eun-seol not only carried an aura similar to the man who had once saved this village but was also no ill-intentioned person.
"I see..."
The old man seemed to make up his mind, glancing around cautiously before gesturing for Bu Eun-seol to follow.
"Then come with me."
He led Bu Eun-seol to the mountain behind the village.
Though his back was hunched with age and his eyes watered from the strain of years, his stamina remained intact—likely from a lifetime spent gathering herbs in these very hills.
He moved swiftly through the rugged forest path, all the while scanning his surroundings intently, as if retracing old memories in search of something.
"Forgive me, but it seems we've been circling around aimlessly."
Bu Eun-seol observed that despite the old man's brisk pace, they were effectively going in circles and cautiously spoke up.
"If you could tell me the direction, I'd be happy to guide you there myself."
"We are not circling."
The old man turned his dim, squinting eyes toward Bu Eun-seol with unwavering confidence.
"It may seem that way, but we are on the right path."
Though his vision was poor, his pupils remained clear and sharp—there was no hint of deception in his words.
Bu Eun-seol nodded silently and continued following him.
"We've arrived."
But something was strange.
As they passed through the trees, a dense bamboo grove suddenly appeared before them—one that had been completely invisible moments ago.
A battle formation? No...
Blinking in surprise, Bu Eun-seol followed the old man deeper into the grove, where a wide clearing and a large pond soon came into view.
The surroundings were steeped in silence, and a faint mist curled through the air in all directions.
It was as if they had stepped into another world entirely, accessed through some hidden path.
"This is the place."
The old man spoke in a hushed voice.
"As the son of benefactor, you may find this place stirring... but for the people of our village, it is forbidden."
"Forbidden?"
"Yes."
The old man's expression twisted with pain.
"Long ago, our village was attacked by the most savage and cruel martial artist in the world."
His voice trembled with grief and anguish as he clenched his fists.
"That demon relentlessly slaughtered only the women and children of our village. That is why you see so few of them here now."
"The most savage and cruel martial artist in the world..."
A suspicion flickered in Bu Eun-seol's mind, and he pressed further.
"Was this man... a martial artist who wielded a blade blackened with corruption? One with a merciless and cold-blooded appearance?"
"Correct. You know of him, then."
The old man's voice turned grim.
"That demon was said to bear the epithet Seven Fingers Demonic Blade in the martial world."
Grandfather.
Bu Eun-seol's heart plummeted with shock, and he took a deep breath.
The martial artist who had brutally massacred the women and children of this village—
Was none other than his own grandfather.