Chapter 1199
This made no sense.
Even if the three treasures had combined, how could they transport someone from Tibet to India in an instant?
"Wait."
After surveying his surroundings for a long while, Bu Eun-seol's eyes widened.
Only now did he realize something was off about the scenery.
"This isn't present-day Nashik City."
The city walls had just finished their foundational construction, and the ground—which should have been worn smooth by pilgrims' footsteps—was nothing but rough mounds of dirt.
"Chengdu is still being built."
He pressed a hand to his forehead, lost in thought.
Nashik City had only begun proper construction a thousand years ago.
Did that mean this was Nashik City from a thousand years ago?
"No way..."
Just in case, he crouched down and ran his fingers through the dirt on the ground.
He could feel every grain of sand with vivid clarity.
He even spread his extrasensory perception, but found nothing unusual.
After a moment of contemplation, he closed his eyes and recited the incantation for Phantom Restoration.
Perhaps he was trapped in an illusion from the Mind Seizing Secret Art, or maybe this was a mindscape.
'No.'
But that wasn't it.
This was neither an illusion nor the effects of the Mind Seizing Secret Art.
"Could it be a mindscape of a level I've never experienced before?"
Mindscapes had tiers, and from the sixth layer onward, they could even influence reality.
If this was something beyond that... then creating such an illusion wouldn't be impossible, he thought.
"I can't know for sure, but..."
He glanced down at his wrist—the Dragon-Phoenix Ring was still there.
Sensing something, he unfastened it.
Click.
But when he flipped it open, to his shock, the Nine Heavens Radiant Cloud Pearl was missing.
"This is trouble."
A wave of emptiness and absurdity washed over him, strong enough to make him want to sit down.
He had experienced all sorts of bizarre things during his time in the martial world, but nothing as ridiculous as this.
"First, I need to confirm."
Bu Eun-seol immediately attempted to activate his movement technique to soar into the sky.
Hop.
But all he managed was a light jump before landing back on the ground.
'My internal energy is gone.'
The internal energy within his body had completely vanished.
Only then did he fully grasp the abnormality and calmly assessed his condition.
All his strength had disappeared, but fortunately, the Three Divine Powers remained intact.
"That's a relief."
If even the Three Divine Powers had been gone, he would've had to traverse this vast land of India on foot.
"This is beyond comprehension."
Whoosh.
Summoning the Wind & Cloud Divine Qi, he instantly lifted himself into the air.
Then, he headed toward Samana Valley in Anila Mountain, where the Four Sacred Tribes resided.
'Once I resolve this, I should study the Three Divine Powers more closely.'
The pinnacle of martial arts he pursued was nothingness and emptiness.
Ever since he had set his goal on reverting all opponents to an ordinary state before fighting, he hadn't even considered furthering his mastery of the Three Divine Powers.
But now, stranded in this dire situation with only the Three Divine Powers remaining within him, he keenly realized there was no need to stubbornly reject the power of nature.
'After all, once I obtain all Four Divine Powers, I'll enter the Way of Nature and cast everything away.'
Even his pursuit of the Four Divine Powers was ultimately for the sake of returning everything to its natural state.
So, even if he would eventually discard them all, until then, refining his proficiency to face formidable enemies wasn't a bad idea.
Swish.
Before he knew it, he had arrived at Samana Valley.
But all that stretched before him was a dense forest—no trace of the Four Sacred Tribes.
"Are the Four Sacred Tribes not here yet?"
The history of the Four Sacred Tribes wasn't that long; they were said to have taken root here eight hundred years ago.
If this truly was a thousand years in the past...
Then of course, the Four Sacred Tribes wouldn't exist.
Creak. Rustle.
Even the midday sunlight was filtered hundreds of times through the deep blue leaves of this forest, whose true rulers were something else entirely.
A colossal serpent with a blood-red horn protruding from its forehead came into view.
Between the branches, sticky threads tangled like crimson veins—traces of the Spider Blood Serpent.
Countless spirit beasts, unseen in the Central Plains, filled the forest.
Not only that, but between the rocks, petals of jade-black Jade Dew Sea Flowers peeked out.
Not far away, Nine Spirits Grass shimmered like the Milky Way.
Further off, on a tree, hung a hard, blood-red Dragon's Blood Pomegranate.
"Reminds me of Jiaozhi."
Unconsciously, Bu Eun-seol smiled bitterly yet nostalgically.
The forests of Jiaozhi, where Pa Hon had once been, were just like this—teeming with spirit beasts and spiritual herbs.
"How am I supposed to get back?"
Bu Eun-seol used the Wind & Cloud Divine Qi again to leave the forest. After traveling north for a while, Nashmi Forest came into view.
'Again, only spirit beasts.'
Moving swiftly once more, he arrived at Vishuta Valley.
A sinister shadow loomed, blending with the stench of greed and strange blood, seeping deep into his lungs.
"A mercenary market?"
To his surprise, there was a village in Vishuta Valley—and not just any village, but one hosting a fairly large-scale mercenary market at that.
In one alley, a rōnin from Japan stood silently against a wall, a longsword at his waist and a straw hat pulled low over his face.
A Semu woman with blue eyes browsed a stall displaying animal bones.
There were warriors who appeared to be from the Central Plains, as well as ascetics who seemed to hail from India.
Most of the shops, their floors covered with either carpets or rough hemp cloth, sold goods related to spirit beasts.
"Hmm."
Without realizing it, Bu Eun-seol found himself walking deeper into the familiar-seeming bustle of the mercenary market.
After some time, he arrived at Jiaozhi's mercenary quarter.
An inn stood there, strikingly similar to the Black Serpent Tower.
Stepping inside, he saw mercenaries clustered in small groups, drinking and eating as they exchanged stories.
'What in the world are they talking about?'
Frustrated, Bu Eun-seol furrowed his brow—
Hmm.
A light pulsed from the Dragon-Phoenix Ring on his wrist.
At the same time, his appearance became clearer, and miraculously, he could suddenly understand every word they spoke.
'The Dragon-Phoenix Ring has this kind of function?'
If the ring had the ability to comprehend foreign languages, then—
The imperial family would never have bestowed this upon the princess.
"That's right."
"Back then, it was like that."
Just then, gruff-voiced mercenaries clinked their cups together, and—
"Hahaha."
A familiar laugh pierced his ears.
Clear, unadorned, youthful—a laugh brimming with mischief yet untouched by shadow.
Without thinking, Bu Eun-seol turned his head toward the sound.
And in that moment—his breath caught, his blood running cold as if frozen solid.
There, at a shabby table in the corner of the inn, a young man bantered playfully with a few mercenaries.
A face untainted by time, a smile full of mischief.
Eyes so clear they held not a trace of darkness or malice.
It was none other than Pa Hon.
'Pa Hon... from a thousand years ago?'
Pa Hon's appearance was that of a pure-hearted youth who had just stepped into the world.
But perhaps his gaze had lingered too long, too deeply—
"What're you looking at?"
One of the burly mercenaries talking with Pa Hon scowled and stood up.
His eyes held undisguised hostility.
"Why the hell are you staring like that?"
Conversations among mercenaries often carried secrets as vital as their own lives.
That was why, unless you had business with them—
It was an unspoken rule among mercenaries not to stare or observe one another.
An unwarranted gaze bred misunderstanding, and misunderstandings often led to drawn blades.
"My apologies."
Bu Eun-seol offered a curt apology and turned to leave the inn.
'Now that I think about it—'
Standing dazed outside, he suddenly smacked his forehead.
He hadn't even checked what he looked like—what face he was wearing.
Going out to Chengdu again, he spotted a mirror on a stall.
'Different.'
His eyes widened.
This wasn't his face.
It was the face of someone he had never seen before.
'What in the world is happening?'
His mind reeled.
Taking a deep breath, Bu Eun-seol steadied himself.
The cold night air seeped into his lungs, and clarity finally returned.
Climbing a tall tree, he leaned back against the trunk.
One thing was certain—this wasn't a dream.
'The Nine Heavens Radiant Cloud, the Dragon-Phoenix Ring, and the True Demon's Corpse—their convergence must have caused this.'
The Nine Heavens Radiant Cloud Wine, a treasure of antiquity said to inherit the karma of bloodlines.
The Dragon-Phoenix Ring, an imperial relic.
And the first vessel of the True Demon, the origin of all demons.
The resonance of these three artifacts had triggered this phenomenon.
"Then this can't be mere illusion."
Something unimaginably bizarre was unfolding.
"One thing's certain—I haven't traveled back in time."
If his appearance had remained the same, he could have assumed he had returned to the past.
But this face was a stranger's.
"Then... am I vividly experiencing someone else's memories?"
Perhaps he had stepped into the life of someone who once existed.
But considering that this was set in India a thousand years ago, that too was too unrealistic—something that simply couldn't happen.
"Hmm."
Moreover, hadn't he consciously looked at Pa Hon in the inn? And hadn't that very gaze started a quarrel?
"If this is someone's memory, did I unconsciously mimic their actions?"
After a long moment of thought, Bu Eun-seol shook his head.
No—he had reacted upon hearing Pa Hon's laughter.
Swish.
His fingers brushed the Dragon-Phoenix Ring on his wrist.
The Nine Heavens Radiant Cloud Wine, which should have been safely stored inside, was still missing.
"In the end, the answer lies with the Nine Heavens Radiant Cloud Wine."
An intuition told him that only by returning the lost wine to the ring could he escape this place.
"If this isn't an illusion but truly a thousand years in the past... would the Nine Heavens Radiant Cloud Wine even exist here?"
After all, this wasn't the Central Plains—it was the distant land of India.
The clamor grew louder.
Just then, the inn's door swung open, and a group of five or six people stepped outside.
It was Pa Hon and his companions.
'This is where it begins.'
Bu Eun-seol's pupils gleamed in the darkness.
He had no information about this place.
So he resolved to start by observing Pa Hon first.
From then on, Bu Eun-seol trailed Pa Hon like a shadow, silently watching the way he and his companions lived.
'Their skills...'
They were a small band of five or six, addressing each other as "big brother" and "big sister" rather than by name, living as closely as blood siblings.
They shared a dilapidated thatched hut, and when they ventured into the forest, they hunted not Spirit Beasts but wild boars for meals, barely scraping by.
'...Pathetic.'
Their skills were so pitiful they could hardly be called wandering warriors.
During hunts, they frequently stumbled or got tangled in each other's attacks, injuring themselves often.
Pa Hon was no exception—reckless and overeager, he often earned scoldings from his companions.
Yet, laughter never left their faces.
On days when the hunt failed, they gathered to share dried rations, vowing to catch bigger game tomorrow.
And when they managed to bring down even a small Spirit Beast, they celebrated as if the whole forest were theirs, laughing and feasting.
They were poor and weak, but they cherished each other more than anyone else in the world.
"Now we should do something proper, right?"
But hungry days outnumbered full ones, and injuries piled up.
With their meager skills, even solo hunting was a distant dream...
In the end, they swallowed their pride and chose another path.
They became laborers, taking on the grunt work for a more skilled band of warriors—carrying loads, keeping watch through the night, and gutting the kills when prey fell.
Mockery and scorn rained down on them endlessly.
The abuse only worsened until, eventually, they were treated not as fellow warriors but as servants.
Yet they never once complained.
They simply bowed their heads and did their work in silence.
Even if they were looked down upon, they were happy just to be together—bound tighter than blood.
Then, one day, something happened.
A large coalition of warriors had formed to raid the nest of the legendary Spirit Beasts, the Blood Hawks—a flock said to number in the dozens.
The Blood Hawks, massive wingless birds, were treasures from feather to claw, with not a single part wasted.
Pa Hon and his companions, too, were hired as porters at the very rear of the procession, heading toward the cave.
But then, disaster struck.
The intelligence had been completely wrong.
The Blood Hawks were far more numerous than expected—and cunning enough to lay ambushes.
"Agh! Aaaagh!"
"Help! My arm—!"
The cave became a slaughterhouse in an instant.
Every strike of the Blood Hawks' razor-sharp beaks sent fountains of blood spraying; bodies were torn apart like paper.
With each swipe of their monstrous claws, warriors fell like autumn leaves.
As defeat loomed and annihilation drew near, the leader of the vanguard roared, spitting blood:
"Retreat! Everyone, retreat!"
But the Blood Hawks moved faster than their Movement Techniques.
The starving beasts never released prey once caught, and escape routes began closing one by one.
Squelch.
The sickening sounds of flesh tearing and bones shattering echoed on all sides.
Hot blood gushed as hooked talons sank into bodies.
One of the warriors was snatched up by a Blood Hawk's beak, lifted into the air, and then hurled to the ground.
A dull crunch of breaking bones, and the warriors' bodies went limp.
"We'll all die at this rate!"
"We need bait—we need bait!"
Eyes wild with terror, the warriors' gazes locked onto one group.
The porters at the rear—Pa Hon and his companions.
"Throw those laborers at them! Buy us time!"
In the face of death, they made an unforgivable choice.
The fleeing warriors swung their swords—not to kill, but to cripple.
Thwick!
With a gruesome slicing sound, tendons in the companions' legs were severed.
Leaving them writhing in agony on the ground, the warriors bolted for the exit.
"Krrrrrk!"
The Blood Hawk flock, drawn by the scent of blood, changed course.
Instead of chasing the fleeing warriors, they turned toward the fresh prey sprawled helplessly below.
In that instant, all eyes turned to one person—
Pa Hon, the youngest, who had only been wounded in one leg.
"Run."
"Big brother! Big sister!"
Tears of blood streaming down his face, Pa Hon shook his head.
"I said RUN!"
His face drenched in blood, he mustered the last of his strength and screamed.
"Don't come this way!"
He waved his blood-soaked arm and shouted.
Crunch!
In that moment, the blood vultures began tearing into his lower body. Amidst unbearable agony, he wrapped his arms around the vulture's head and roared at the top of his lungs.
"Run toward the forked path inside!"
"Brother!"
"Even these monsters instinctively avoid that place! Whatever's there, it's better than being torn apart—go, now!"
The inner fork seemed to be where other spirit beasts gathered or where traps lay, a place even the blood vultures wouldn't approach.
Better to take his chances there than be devoured alive.
"No! Let's go together!"
"We'll hold them off—just run!"
His comrades smiled at Pa Hon through the blood.
"Live... for our sake too."
To save their youngest, these siblings who had been like family were throwing themselves into the vultures' maws to act as human shields.
"If you don't go, our deaths will be meaningless!"
At those desperate last words, Pa Hon choked back a sob and turned away.
Like a madman—
stumbling, staggering—
he ran toward the deepest abyss of the cave, a darkness even the blood vultures feared.
How much time had passed?
Plink.
A cold droplet struck his forehead, and Pa Hon gasped awake.
Only suffocating blackness filled his vision.
Instinctively, he curled up, swallowing ragged breaths.
'Where... is this?'
He had fled through the cave's crevices, crawling and running until consciousness slipped away.
Trembling hands groped the surroundings. Damp, jagged stone met his fingertips.
He lay in a narrow gap between collapsed boulders, barely wide enough to squeeze through.
"Brothers! Sisters!"
More than fear of lingering blood vultures, the desperate hope that his comrades might still be alive seized him.
On all fours like a beast, he crawled back the way he'd come.
Sharp rocks tore his nails loose and shredded his palms to rags.
He didn't care. He dragged himself forward.
Until he emerged into the vast cavern where the battle had been.
Drip.
Something cold trailed down his cheek.
The sight before him was too horrific to bear.
The hands that had ruffled his hair, the lips that had spoken kindness, the eyes that had encouraged him—
all torn beyond recognition.
No sobs came.
Only silent, wordless weeping.
—Live for our sake.
Their voices echoed in his ears.
Their final words, bought with their lives.
Wiping his tears, he staggered toward the exit.
But the entrance was sealed shut.
"I have to find a way out."
His leg—broken?—burned too terribly to move. His head spun.
He collapsed among the corpses and lost consciousness again.
How long had it been?
A scorching thirst overwhelmed him.
His leg still wouldn't obey. Pa Hon could only wait.
At least no more blood vultures or spirit beasts came.
Yet the thirst grew unbearable, and all he saw were rivers of blood.
"Ugh..."
After endless hesitation—
"Gulp."
He pressed his lips to the blood pooling on the stone.
Hot tears of the living.
Mixed with the cold blood of the dead, sliding down his throat.
"Ugh... Uuugh!"
He wept as he drank.
To survive, he'd abandoned even human dignity. Now he was just another beast.
Scritch.
With broken nails, he clawed at the ground, dragging himself back toward the forked crevice.
How far had he crawled?
When he finally reached the deepest nest of blood and rot, an unexpected sight awaited.
A gaunt man sat cross-legged in perfect stillness, a tattered cloth draped over his head.
Amidst the hellscape of corpses and gore—
his tranquility was so profound, he might have been a meditating Buddha.
Gleam.
Then the seated man slowly opened his eyes.
In the dark, they shone like black stars drowning in the abyss.
Surveying Pa Hon—filthy with blood and dirt—the man curled his lips faintly.
[Do you seek vengeance?]
His voice resonated softly through the cavern. Bony fingers extended toward Pa Hon.
[Then I shall give you power.]
The whisper of that shadowed figure was an irresistible lure to one who craved revenge.
[In return, you must become King of the Spirit Beasts.]
"King... of Spirit Beasts?"
Pa Hon's confused murmur drew another reply.
[A human ascending to rule all creatures. But the price is this: you will be hunted by mankind forever, and in turn, you must tear them apart and eat them to survive.]
Pa Hon's eyes widened.
He didn't know why—
but he sensed it.
This emaciated, serene figure, like a dark Buddha...
was both the beginning and end of all this tragedy.
That grotesque man—
wanted to claim him.
Pa Hon, once so pure, now hollowed out by hatred—
as his thrall.