Chapter 1231
Whoooosh.
With the sound of wind, an utterly black space unfolded before him this time—a void where nothing was visible.
Bu Eun-seol walked forward in silence. Whether the scenery changed or not, his expression remained unreadable.
Swish.
A thin, slicing sound cut through the darkness, and a blade flashed from the shadows.
The sword that grazed past him mercilessly cleaved into his forearm.
Though it was merely a glancing strike, the wound split open viciously, and bright blood streamed down in rivulets.
It was a double-edged blade—the favored weapon of assassins.
Thwip! Slash!
With every step he took, blades surged from the darkness, ruthlessly carving into his entire body.
Arms, legs, shoulders, neck, cheeks, eyes...
The agony of severed blood vessels and flayed flesh continued relentlessly.
In less than half a ke (~7.5 minutes), Bu Eun-seol had transformed into a blood-soaked figure.
Yet he showed no reaction—he simply kept walking forward.
One step, two steps... After walking for about half a ke, the darkness finally began to recede.
This time, a space as white and transparent as light unfolded before him.
Creeeak.
The moment his foot touched the white expanse, his body immediately bent under an immense force.
Tens of thousands of pounds of pressure crushed down upon his entire being.
Whoooosh.
From Bu Eun-seol's blood-streaked eyes, a mysterious radiance spilled forth.
This time, he began channeling his full Internal Energy to resist.
Drip, drip.
His hunched form gradually straightened, his hair standing on end as if lifted by an unseen force.
But as he gathered his energy, an even greater pressure bore down on him with a deafening roar.
Crack.
Clenching his fists, he endured the crushing weight in silence, his back ramrod straight.
Half a ke, one ke—before he knew it, nearly half an hour had passed.
Though he held firm with his Internal Energy, the relentless pressure showed no signs of stopping.
An ordinary person would have been overwhelmed by terror akin to death itself.
But he simply stood there, indifferent, continuing to draw upon his energy without hesitation.
How much time had passed?
Oooom.
A low vibration hummed through the air, and the pressure that had been crushing him vanished completely.
Had he tried to evade it instead of resisting to the end? He would have lost himself, forever bound to this Mindscape.
Moving forward once more...
The path gradually widened, and this time, an endless bamboo forest stretched before him, its verdant stalks reaching as far as the eye could see.
'No end in sight.'
Murmuring indifferently, Bu Eun-seol came to a halt in the middle of the bamboo grove.
After surveying his surroundings, he closed his eyes.
Then, slowly, he reached behind his back and gripped the hilt of Ink Soul Sword with all his strength.
"Come at me."
The moment the words left his lips, tendrils of blue smoke began surging toward him from between the bamboo stalks.
Hwiiiiii—
The blue mist soon took shape—assassins wielding swords.
Bu Eun-seol, his eyes still shut, sliced through one lunging at his back with lightning speed.
Schlick! Thud!
The bisected assassin dissolved back into blue smoke, scattering in all directions.
They shifted between mist and shadow, striking at his vital points with lethal precision.
Swish! Swish!
He cut them down one after another with Ink Soul Sword, but each time, they simply dispersed into smoke.
These were phantoms—beings that could not be destroyed by mere slashes.
Click.
Observing these bizarre assassins—neither killable nor dismissible—Bu Eun-seol lowered his stance and raised Ink Soul Sword overhead.
"Interesting."
Whoosh!
Just as the mist-like figures encircled him and prepared to strike—
CRACKLE—!
A deafening Sound of Breaking Air erupted.
Bu Eun-seol spun Ink Soul Sword like a top, and the blue mist-assassins were sucked into the whirlwind of his blade.
Hwiiiiirrrrr—!
With the howl of a gale, the smoke coiled around Ink Soul Sword twisted into a massive vortex before—
BOOOOOOM—!
—exploding outward into the distant sky, vanishing without a trace.
He had effortlessly disposed of the smoke-shifting assassins with an ingenious method.
[That person.]
From within the darkness, the black shadow manipulating the Mindscape watched in disbelief as Bu Eun-seol dismantled each layer one by one.
To break through the Seventh Layer of the Mindscape—the Seven Martial Purgatory—one must:
If one mistakes reality for illusion, they die. If one mistakes illusion for reality?
They are trapped in the Mindscape forever.
The problem? In the Seven Martial Purgatory, distinguishing illusion from reality is impossible.
[How in the world did he grasp the essence of the Seven Martial Purgatory—a technique never before revealed in Murim?!]
Bu Eun-seol endured the pain of illusions with supernatural discernment and reacted instantly to reality.
[Could it be... his ability has reached the same Absolute Realm as the Demonic Heavenly Emperor?!]
In truth, he had overestimated Bu Eun-seol.
Eun-seol had frequently glimpsed into others' memories through Mindscapes and Phantom Restoration.
Moreover, during his travels in the martial world, he had endured hardships so severe they could hardly be called mere trials—he had suffered every kind of agony imaginable.
He had experienced his flesh melting from his limbs, resisted overwhelming pressure, and been slashed countless times by grotesque weapons like the double-edged sword.
Thus, discerning truth from illusion came easily to him.
Thud. Thud.
Drenched in blood, Bu Eun-seol slowly advanced, the Ink Soul Sword still in hand.
This time, the path was longer and steeper.
At the end of the gradually ascending path—like climbing a staircase—a white light spilled forth.
Step by step, he entered the passage where the light flowed.
"......!"
Under the warm glow of the sun, the sight of an old, weathered house came into view.
And there, an elderly man hunched over, carefully arranging an ossuary in the courtyard.
Clatter.
The Ink Soul Sword slipped from Eun-seol's grip and fell limply to the ground.
That benevolent smile.
How could he ever forget that face?
Not a single day had passed without longing for it—even in his dreams.
His grandfather stood before him.
"Grandfather."
The words left his lips softly, and his stomach burned as if he had swallowed Extreme Poison.
His vision blurred like a candle flickering out.
"You've always been just out of reach."
He knew this was an illusion.
Yet Bu Eun-seol staggered forward, step by unsteady step, until he stood before his grandfather.
"Somewhere in this vast, boundless universe... you must have been reborn into a beautiful life."
If his grandfather had passed on and reincarnated...
Surely, he would have opened another quiet funeral parlor, gently consoling the souls of the departed.
[What is this now?]
Deep within the darkness of the Seven Martial Purgatory—
[Even in the hellish torment, he discerned truth from illusion and shattered the phantoms...]
The shadow watching Eun-seol's fading gaze could not hide its bewilderment.
[And now he's succumbed to the mere bewitching illusion of his heart's deepest yearning?]
Bu Eun-seol stepped into the funeral parlor as if accepting the illusion as reality.
With each step, his eyes grew more dazed, and his once-clear Spirit and Mind seemed to be clouding over.
"I know this is an illusion."
Entering the funeral parlor, Eun-seol smiled faintly.
"But I still want to see you up close."
Only now did he understand—
The past Family Head of the Namgung Family, Namgung Jeong, when ambushed by Martial Alliance assassins disguised as Forces from Beyond the Frontier...
Even knowing it was an illusion, he had embraced the phantom of his wife.
"It really feels like I've gone back to those days."
Unconsciously, a satisfied smile spread across Eun-seol's face.
Countless times before, he had seen his grandfather's image in traps and Mindscapes—and overcome them all.
But in the Seven Martial Purgatory, his grandfather's form...
Not only was it indistinguishable from reality, but every sensation, every detail of the scenery, was flawless.
Afraid it might shatter if he approached or vanish if he turned away, he cautiously halted and simply gazed at his grandfather.
"Had I known revenge would be this difficult... I should have followed you back then."
Overcome by longing so deep—
Eun-seol willingly submerged himself in the Mindscape just to reunite with his grandfather.
"Seol-a."
At that moment, his grandfather turned from the ossuary and looked at him.
"Has it been hard?"
His grandfather's bony hand gently stroked Eun-seol's head.
"But aren't you this old man's grandson?"
Then he smiled brightly.
"You'll endure every trial... and become a light that pierces the darkness of this world."
Drip. Drip.
Thick tears rolled down Eun-seol's cheeks.
Even in an illusion, his grandfather believed in him.
Believed he would overcome every ordeal.
And that belief—
Slowly purified his clouded Spirit and Mind.
'Even in an illusion... Grandfather is still watching over me.'
Zing.
Clarity returned to Eun-seol's eyes.
Clack.
With a flick of Void Object Retrieval, the Ink Soul Sword flew back into his grip. As if resonating with his heart, the blade radiated a resplendent, ancient glow.
Flash!
A streak of light split the transparent sky.
The slash tore through the funeral parlor, through the darkness where the shadow had hidden—
And through the very eyes of the one who had cast the Seven Martial Purgatory.
[G-Gahhh!]
A wretched scream echoed, and—
Flutter. Flutter.
The transparent sky, the fading sunset, the tranquil funeral parlor—all scattered like torn paper.
The Mindscape of the Seven Martial Purgatory had been shattered.
Sssssssss—
As all the scenery vanished,
Bu Eun-seol realized he was still standing in the long corridor.
Except for one difference.
The walls lining the passage, which had been invisible before, were now clad in black-robed figures—Men in Black.
And from their eyes, every single one of them was streaming blood.
The reason such an extraordinary Mindscape had been possible was simple:
It had been built upon the bodies and life force of countless martial artists.
"How...?"
At the end of the corridor, someone was trembling, clutching their eyes.
It was the Old Eunuch who had guided Bu Eun-seol this far.
Thud. Thud.
Without hesitation, he strode past the Old Eunuch, brushing by him.
"So even the Secret Arts of the Mindscape were passed down from the Imperial Palace?"
Bu Eun-seol muttered under his breath, but the Old Eunuch remained silent, his mouth sealed shut.
He had instinctively understood—one careless word, and his head would roll.
Finally, as he reached the end of the corridor, a massive Grand Hall came into view.
"Haa..."
Bu Eun-seol exhaled a sigh deeper than any he had ever let out before.
An unreal sight filled his vision, accompanied by the thick, piercing scent of Wicked Incense.
Upon the gleaming floor of the Grand Hall, three hundred court ladies—clad in sheer silk gauze robes that left little to the imagination—were dancing in perfect unison, their movements forming a vast, petal-like pattern.
Sssk—ssssssk—
Their arms and fingers traced predetermined arcs, flowing like unraveling silk, while their heads tilted back in precise, rhythmic motion.
Though no music played, the illusion of drumbeats filled the air, mingling with the mournful rustle of silk skirts brushing the floor.
It was a dance of breathtaking beauty.
Yet their eyes were hollow, their smiling lips devoid of any vitality—
Like a troupe of women possessed, dancing under a ghost's command.
Clink-clink-clink.
The golden hairpins (binyeo) and jade ornaments adorning their heads clashed sharply with each sway of their hips, each flirtatious twist of their dance, filling the air with a jarring metallic clamor.
'Grotesque.'
In the Grand Hall where the Empress Dowager awaited—
How could such a sinister spectacle unfold?
'And this is no mere dance.'
Narrowing his eyes, Bu Eun-seol took a step forward.
Skrrrt—ssssk—
But the dancers' movements were too swift, too intricate—barring any further advance.
"Hm."
He attempted another step, but the court ladies, still mid-dance, blocked his path effortlessly.
And with every motion they made—
Clang—clang-clang—
The leaf-shaped ornaments dangling from their golden hairpins jangled noisily, grating on his nerves.
'So I must break through.'
Bu Eun-seol observed the scene calmly—three hundred court ladies filling the Grand Hall with their dance—before slowly stepping forward.
Swoosh—
He moved deliberately between their whirling forms.
Three hundred crimson sleeves slashed through the air in unison, billowing like a massive blood-red tide.
The sight was dizzying, yet Bu Eun-seol advanced without faltering.
Once he had passed through the dancers, he finally saw her—the Empress Dowager, seated upon the high throne.
Under normal circumstances, he would have offered formal greetings—"I have come in response to Her Majesty's summons" or "May the Sacred Longevity remain unshaken."
But now, such rigid formalities were unnecessary.
After all, the Empress Dowager had already revealed herself as his sworn enemy.
"To gather so many eyes and ears for a mere lowly martial artist—such excessive honor."
The Empress Dowager merely smiled, unfazed by his cold tone.
"The winds of the Imperial Palace are nothing compared to the blade-winds of the Martial World."
Her gaze was icy as she looked down at him.
"In the Martial World, a poorly executed Martial Form costs you your head. But in the Imperial Palace, standing in the wrong place can sever three souls and seven spirits."
Pausing briefly, she lowered her voice.
"They say those who understand the tides of the times are the true heroes."
Her eyes locked onto his.
"The principles of this world are crumbling. If a talent like you does not take the proper place, you will be forsaking Heaven's decree."
"Are you telling me to betray the Emperor?"
"I am advising you to find the correct standing."
She did not mince words.
"In return, I will tell you everything."
"......"
"On my honor as Empress Dowager, I will reveal to you—immediately—all that you wish to know. Every truth you have desperately sought."
Shockingly, she knew exactly what Bu Eun-seol yearned for.
And she declared—
If he stood by her side, she would disclose every truth she possessed. Without delay.
"If everything I've been desperately searching for could be fulfilled here, then it would be worth considering."
"Then let me ask you this."
After a brief silence, Bu Eun-seol finally spoke.
"Are you certain that what you know is the truth?"
His pupils had frozen over like the glaciers of the North Sea—utterly frigid.
"I'm asking whether it's a truth you've personally witnessed, heard, and verified."
"Why does that matter?"
"For example, let's say the Great Killing Star of the martial world drew his blade and killed someone, and Your Majesty heard the tale."
Bu Eun-seol continued calmly.
"But the testimonies of those who actually witnessed the scene firsthand might differ. The person the Great Killing Star slew could have been a heinous villain—or at the very least, someone who had to die for justifiable reasons."
When the Empress Dowager didn't respond, Bu Eun-seol spoke again.
"Wandering the martial world, I've found that many things I once believed to be clear truths... turned out to be entirely different once I grasped them in my own hands."
The grandfather once called the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade.
The Bloody Massacre of Saha Manor, Jeong Cheon-je and the Buddhist Venerable.
The Righteous Faction's figures and the Martial Alliance. Even the Baekri Clan and the True Demon Palace...
Every "truth" he had once believed in shattered upon closer inspection, revealing itself as falsehood.
In the end, just as the Demonic Heavenly Emperor always said—
Truth must be sought.
Seen, heard, and uncovered through one's own eyes and ears.
"It seems you take not after the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade, Bu Jan-yang..."
The Empress Dowager's lips twisted into a subtle, crooked smile.
"But after Sado Mu-myeong."
Her words weren't just a recognition that Bu Eun-seol's hypothetical example referred to Bu Jan-yang.
They were an immediate insight—that his convictions about truth had been inherited from the Demonic Heavenly Emperor.
In other words, she was indirectly revealing that she knew both men intimately.
Had this been the Bu Eun-seol of the past,
his spirit and mind would have been shaken, or he might have struggled desperately to extract even a sliver of information from her.
"People who've tasted bitterness from those two..."
But now, he merely responded with an enigmatic smile.
"Often say the same thing to my face."
"How unfortunate."
Realizing this was a clear rejection, the Empress Dowager clicked her tongue and shook her head.
"With wings, you could have become a divine dragon."
"This one is merely a wolf wandering the martial world without purpose."
His words were a declaration—that he would never become a figure of the imperial court.
And a reaffirmation that he was, above all, a disciple of Langya Pavilion, devoted solely to martial arts.
"I had hoped to share a bowl of rice cakes with you and the imperial household at Eohwawon... but it seems you feel no need for such ties."
The Empress Dowager snorted, waving her hand dismissively with a regretful expression.
"You won't live long, in any case."
"If a blood-soaked martial artist were to live a long life, that would be the greater mystery."
Though her words were vicious, Bu Eun-seol clasped his hands together as if receiving a blessing.
"Then."
After a final bow, he immediately turned and strode out of the grand hall.
Seated on her throne, the Empress Dowager watched his retreating figure until it vanished completely, her eyes narrowing to slits.
'Hmm.'
Truthfully, if she couldn't sway him, she had planned to kill him on the spot.
Even if Sado Mu-myeong himself stood in her way, she was confident she wouldn't lose.
Besides, since he had come alone, fabricating a reason for his death afterward would have been trivial.
Yet, in the end, she hadn't acted.
It was as if he were an abyss of unfathomable depth—
A premonition that reaching out might instead drag her under.
'Does he possess the power to harm even me?'
A memory surfaced—of a time long past, when she had clashed with a terrifying swordsman who should never have been provoked.
'No... that can't be.'
Of course, if they fought, she would never lose.
But what if she suffered even the slightest injury, aggravating old wounds?
Every scheme she had built over the years could crumble like foam on water.
Sssssss...
At that moment, a stunningly beautiful woman in the vibrant, multicolored attire of the Miao tribes appeared beneath the throne and knelt.
"Your Majesty."
"Well?"
At the Empress Dowager's question,
"He is a hero with a will of steel, unmatched under heaven—"
The woman lowered her head and continued.
"But he is also the Greatest Demon Under Heaven, steeped in terrifying killing intent and demonic energy."
The countless palace maidens who had danced earlier—
Their purpose hadn't been to seduce Bu Eun-seol or disrupt his mental power.
They had been a medium for Heart-Mirror Insight, a technique that allowed her to perfectly observe the traits of grandmasters who had reached the Absolute Realm.
"As I thought."
The Empress Dowager's crimson lips stretched into a long, thin smile.
"A man consumed by vengeance, running madly forward... could never be a saint or a hero."
Long ago, Hyeokryeon Eung had sought to make Bu Eun-seol the Ten Demonic Heir on Hell Island—
Because he had recognized the qualities of the Greatest Demon Under Heaven within him.
But that had only been possible because Hyeokryeon Eung had spent months on Hell Island, observing Bu Eun-seol intently from the very start of the trials.
Yet this Miao woman—
Had discerned the same truth in an instant.
The sheer magnitude of her secret arts was beyond estimation.
"Then."
The Empress Dowager murmured softly.
"We need only unleash the demonic heart he's been so fiercely suppressing."
And with a wicked smile, she uttered words that would have shocked anyone who heard them.
"Just as we once did... to the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade."