Chapter 1241
"Indeed, wisdom surpassing martial prowess—just as they said."
Taoist Heo Ju—no, Sim Gyeong-yoseon—nodded in acknowledgment.
"I have no choice but to admit it."
One of the Ten Great Immortals, said to possess the innate ability to distinguish evil and peer into the hearts of others, had revealed herself.
So that's her true form.
Immortals were all said to possess an ethereal, transcendent grace.
If Sim Gyeong-yoseon's identity had been concealed until now,
Bu Eun-seol had expected her to transform from her shabby Taoist robes into some dazzling, snowflake-like courtly attire.
But her true appearance was that of a woman in her thirties—her features neat but her clothing still as unkempt as before.
"Did you deliberately approach and assist me because you had a request to make?"
When Bu Eun-seol asked,
"That's right."
Sim Gyeong-yoseon nodded lightly.
"Those in the Martial World say that the Martial Soul Lord always repays his debts without fail."
Had she suddenly appeared declaring herself one of the Ten Great Immortals and made a request, he naturally wouldn't have agreed.
Bu Eun-seol chuckled and nodded.
"Speak freely. Whatever it is."
"Kill my senior martial brother for me."
At the abrupt request, Bu Eun-seol furrowed his brow.
An immortal like her was asking someone to kill another?
"Don't worry. It's not a request that would bring you harm."
Sim Gyeong-yoseon spoke in a low voice.
"My senior martial brother is one of the Seven Great Demon Patriarchs and a disciple of the Poison Spirit Demon Lord... He is destined to become the next Poison Hall Master of the True Demon Palace."
Bu Eun-seol's eyes widened.
The Poison Spirit Demon Lord—the ruler of the Poison Hall, a demonic spirit of venom who had once been repelled by his grandfather.
And her senior martial brother was his disciple?
For a moment, Bu Eun-seol wore a dazed expression before asking bluntly:
"How is it possible that an immortal's senior martial brother is one of the Seven Great Demon Patriarchs?"
"We trained together since childhood. Around the age of sixteen, the bloodlines of the Ten Great Immortals and the Seven Great Demon Patriarchs manifested in us."
"The Seven Great Demon Patriarchs..."
"He is the Unceasing Demon Patriarch."
The Unceasing Demon Patriarch.
A Demon Patriarch known for turning ordinary people into vicious fiends, said to become an invincible existence once his True Body was perfected.
And such a man was the disciple of the Poison Spirit Demon Lord, who could be called the ancestral master of all poisons?
Even Bu Eun-seol couldn't anticipate an easy victory against such an opponent.
Not to mention, by now the Poison Spirit Demon Lord must have become an immensely powerful master.
Though he had once fled after failing to defeat his grandfather, he was a core figure of the True Demon Palace and the ancestral master of poison.
If they provoked his disciple—
The Poison Spirit Demon Lord would undoubtedly make his move.
As Sim Gyeong-yoseon had said, this was far from a simple request.
"Very well."
Yet Bu Eun-seol nodded without hesitation.
"Where is the Poison Spirit Demon Lord?"
He was the type to repay a single cup of water's kindness by digging a well.
Not only did he accept this dangerous, life-threatening request without pause—
He intended to eliminate even the Poison Spirit Demon Lord, who could bring harm to her.
"Why the Poison Spirit Demon Lord?"
"Wouldn't that prevent future complications?"
Bu Eun-seol spoke confidently.
"I have a debt to settle with him as well."
The Poison Spirit Demon Lord was the one who had attacked his grandfather and poisoned the One-Eyed Immortal Maiden, costing her an eye.
Since he was already a formidable enemy, Bu Eun-seol planned to kill him too.
"It would be even better if you could tell me the location of the True Demon Palace."
Understanding his meaning, Sim Gyeong-yoseon shook her head.
"I don't know its location either. However... you must not kill the Poison Spirit Demon Lord."
Then she said something unexpected.
"If you do, the Return to Unity Realm Lord will intervene."
"What do you mean?"
"I've heard that the Return to Unity Realm Lord has survived this long only because the Poison Spirit Demon Lord periodically provides him with an antidote."
She continued with a shocking revelation.
"His rotting body has endured this much solely because the Poison Spirit Demon Lord supplied him with venom essence, barely sustaining his life."
Bu Eun-seol's expression was as if he had been struck on the back of the head.
The Return to Unity Realm Lord's body was rotting away, and his life was barely sustained by the Poison Spirit Demon Lord's power?
"If his flesh is decaying, does that mean he, too, is a Half-Spirit Being?"
"They say he was poisoned."
Her voice was quiet.
"That's why he spends most of his days in the Land of the Ultimate Void. Unless he remains in a place where time is distorted, he cannot halt the decay of his body."
"Decay?"
"He was afflicted by the Rotting Flesh Decaying Blood poison."
She spoke calmly.
"In his youth, he was poisoned by Rotting Flesh Decaying Blood, and after missing the window to detoxify it, he has suffered ever since."
An astonishing claim.
No matter how strict the timing for detoxification might be—
For a master of his caliber to have his body rotting away because he couldn't neutralize the poison?
"But if you target the Poison Spirit Demon Lord, the Return to Unity Realm Lord will undoubtedly rage and seek to kill you. There's no need to escalate things to that degree."
In his youth...
Bu Eun-seol's mind raced.
"By any chance, was he ambushed by one of the Eighteen Radiant Souls in his youth?"
The Eighteen Radiant Souls all wielded the same Demonic Sword Arts, Wicked Incense's hidden weapon mechanisms, and the Rotting Flesh Decaying Blood poison.
If so, then in his youth—
Had the Return to Unity Realm Lord been defeated or ambushed by one of them? The thought was staggering.
"I don't know. I've only heard stories about the Return to Unity Realm Lord from my senior martial brother."
The Return to Unity Realm Lord had changed abruptly ten years ago.
But no one knew why it had happened—or how the replacement had occurred.
"Then."
Bu Eun-seol clenched his fist tightly.
The current Return to Unity Realm Lord was rotting away, slowly dying.
Was that why he always wore that bizarre suit of armor? And why he kept nurturing Bu Eun-seol—to entrust him with unfinished business?
'Because I'm his grandfather's grandson?'
The Return to Unity Realm Lord was likely his grandfather's flesh and blood. Their features were unmistakably similar.
So, was he preparing for his impending death by passing on the duty of vengeance for his biological father?
'It makes sense.'
This line of reasoning.
Along with the Return to Unity Realm Lord's enigmatic behavior thus far, it explained why he hadn't killed Bu Eun-seol outright—and even strengthened his martial skills.
'But.'
Bu Eun-seol shook his head.
Because an intuition told him this wasn't the complete answer.
'If the Return to Unity Realm Lord truly had such intentions, no matter how well he hid them, I should have sensed some trace of it.'
The Return to Unity Realm Lord was a man hurtling toward destruction. He was never the type to harbor such tender sentiments.
"Is something wrong?"
At that moment, Sim Gyeong-yoseon, who had been watching Bu Eun-seol, widened her eyes.
"Is there something on my face?"
Unaware that he had been lost in thought, she assumed he had been staring at her.
A strange glint flickered faintly in Bu Eun-seol's pupils.
It was as if—
Just by observing breathing patterns, expressions, gaze, body temperature, posture, and muscle tension—
Transcending intellect and knowledge—
Through preternatural insight, he could peer deep into the recesses of another's spirit and mind.
A habit eerily reminiscent of the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's.
'So that's what it was.'
Just now.
By analyzing Sim Gyeong-yoseon's physiological reactions, Bu Eun-seol had uncovered another truth.
But—
"No. I just remembered something urgent I must attend to."
Hiding his thoughts, he deftly shifted the topic.
"May I take care of it briefly?"
"Of course."
"Thank you."
Bu Eun-seol let out a sharp whistle.
Piiiiii!
Before long, a messenger hawk descended onto his shoulder.
Screech, flutter.
After burning a piece of cloth to relay a secret message in a secret language to the Death Soul Squad, he turned to Sim Gyeong-yoseon with a faint smile.
"In any case, I already made a pact with Hall Master Sado to eliminate the Seven Great Demon Ancestors."
"I'll take care of him for you."
"Really? Thank you."
As Sim Gyeong-yoseon beamed, Bu Eun-seol asked with quiet confidence:
"Where is the Unceasing Demon Patriarch?"
At the edge of a mountain village, a stone-walled house stood encircled by a pine forest.
Beyond the fence, the faint scent of drying calligraphy ink and inksticks lingered in the air.
There lived a man known among the villagers as Seokgye the Scholar.
In the mornings, he ground ink and wrote.
When the sun reached its zenith, he switched brushes and painted.
His calligraphy and paintings brimmed with such lifelike vitality that they fetched high prices.
As dusk approached,
Seokgye the Scholar headed toward the marketplace.
After walking along a narrow, dust-choked path for some time, he stopped in front of a butcher's shop reeking of blood.
"Welcome."
The butcher, Jang Sam, recognized Seokgye and bowed deeply.
"Shall I prepare the usual for you?"
"Please."
"Just a moment."
With practiced hands, Jang Sam began carving the meat.
The crisp sound of blade parting flesh, the dull thud of bone separating from muscle—each stroke precise.
His face was lined with exhaustion.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed sleepless nights.
"I envy you."
Jang Sam muttered as he wrapped the meat.
"Writing, painting... If only I could live like you, Scholar."
His voice carried a heavy sigh.
At dawn, he went to the slaughterhouse. Until sunset, he butchered meat.
Returning home reeking of blood, only his wife's nagging awaited him.
—How are we supposed to live on this measly income?
The same complaints every night. Slowly, Jang Sam's back bent under their weight.
"Forgive my rambling."
Before long, a neatly trimmed cut of crimson meat lay on the block.
"Here you are."
As Seokgye silently accepted the bundle, he suddenly studied Jang Sam's face intently.
"Is something wrong?"
When Seokgye's eyes gleamed, Jang Sam laughed awkwardly.
But Seokgye's expression remained grave as he scrutinized every inch of the butcher's face.
"You should return home early today."
"Huh?"
"A red line has formed on your forehead."
Jang Sam instinctively touched his brow.
But he felt nothing.
"The crimson aura gathering between your brows suggests misfortune has befallen your household."
"Hah. I didn't know you read fortunes too, Scholar."
Jang Sam shook his head.
"I don't believe in divination or physiognomy."
Then he chuckled hoarsely.
"Misfortune? That's every day. Isn't my wife's scolding misfortune enough?"
Seokgye took the meat and continued quietly.
"Still, it wouldn't hurt to search your home thoroughly."
His voice carried an inexplicable weight.
Then he turned and left the butcher's shop.
The shadow of Seokgye stretching long behind him as he walked away against the sunlight.
A gust of wind fluttered the hem of his clothes.
For a moment, an illusion flickered—as if something long and umbilical, like a newborn's cord, trailed from his back.
Jang Sam, who had been staring blankly at the sight, shook his head and resumed butchering the meat.
But his hands, moving busily, kept pausing intermittently.
Seokgye's words had lodged themselves in a corner of his mind.
"A red line? Misfortune?"
Repeating them made his chest sink, and an inexplicable unease surged over him.
Thud.
In the end, gripping his cleaver, he dashed off in a frenzy.
"Hey, where are you going?"
A customer heading toward the butcher shop recognized Jang Sam and called out in alarm, but he didn't answer—just kept running.
Cutting through narrow alleyways, leaping over a stream, he bent over, gasping for breath.
Finally, his house came into view.
A thatched roof worn with age, cracked earthen walls, a creaking gate.
After steadying his breath for a long moment, he cautiously pushed the gate open.
The yard was empty, save for laundry fluttering in the wind.
No sound came from the kitchen. No smoke rose from the evening meal.
Then, a strange noise came from the inner room.
A low, groaning sound.
Ragged breathing.
Jang Sam's breath hitched.
His entire body stiffened.
Slowly—very slowly—he approached the door and cracked it open.
And there, he saw it.
In the sweltering summer afternoon, sunlight filtered through the papered windows, painting the room in a golden haze.
His wife, entangled with a stranger.
Glistening skin slick with sweat, disheveled clothes, frantic panting.
Unaware of his presence, they were lost in each other.
'That woman!'
Jang Sam's body trembled violently.
Killing Intent surged through him, coiling around his limbs.
Even as warm blood splattered his face and dying screams filled his ears—
The reason he could live as a butcher, slaughtering beasts day after day, endlessly carving flesh—
Was because he had been born with an innate, overwhelming Killing Intent.
'Ugh...'
His body felt like it would explode from the force of it. He clenched the cleaver in his hand.
'I can endure this. I can endure it.'
The sharpened blade glinted in the sunlight.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to steady himself.
But his body still shook uncontrollably.
'I knew she was unfaithful from the start, didn't I?'
He had known even before marriage.
But without clear proof, he had suppressed the suspicion, over and over, in his heart.
'If I just... just pretend not to know, like before... I can keep living like this.'
He forced himself to calm down, suppressing the Killing Intent.
As he exhaled slowly and turned to leave, Seokgye's words suddenly resurfaced in his mind.
—It wouldn't hurt to thoroughly check your home once.
'Check the house?'
Slowly turning his head, he suddenly remembered the child's room and cautiously peered inside.
At this hour, the child should have been crying from hunger—but there was no sound.
"...No way."
He opened the door. The child wasn't there.
Only a disheveled blanket remained. No sign of the child.
'My child—'
His heart pounded wildly.
He frantically searched the house—the kitchen, the main room, the backyard.
Then, a faint sound came from the storage shed.
Kicking the door open, he saw only dust illuminated by a sliver of sunlight through the cracks.
In the corner, where empty sacks lay in disarray, the child was there.
A small body, limp on the floor.
White foam dried at the corners of its mouth. A pale face, half-lidded eyes, lifeless hands.
"Ah—ah, baby—"
A groan escaped his lips.
Dropping to his knees, he lifted the child with trembling hands.
The small body was cold and stiff. No pulse. No breath.
"Th-this..."
The storage shed, sweltering in the summer heat, was stifling.
The child must have cried.
They must have locked it in here to silence it—then forgotten.
No, not forgotten. They hadn't even cared enough to remember.
"Huh... huhuhu..."
Something hot streamed from Jang Sam's eyes. Tears, sweat, blood—he couldn't tell.
The small body in his arms.
Seeing the child who would never cry, laugh, or breathe again, an animalistic groan tore from his throat.
"Uu... uuu..."
His veins felt like they would burst. His vision turned crimson.
Swish.
Gently laying the child down, Jang Sam slowly rose to his feet.
BANG!
He kicked open the inner room door.
The two lovers jolted in shock, turning toward him.
"Y-you—!"
His wife's face turned deathly pale.
The man beside her scrambled to adjust his clothes.
But Jang Sam said nothing.
In his hand, the cleaver was already raised.
"W-we can explain—!"
Flash!
The blade split the air. A scream erupted.
Blood gushed like a fountain from the man's chest before he collapsed.
"Spare me! Please spare me!"
His wife shrieked.
But Jang Sam's face remained blank as he moved the blade with mechanical precision.
Just like butchering meat in the slaughterhouse—methodical, practiced.
Blood splattered everywhere. On the walls, the ceiling, the papered windows.
The entire room was slowly dyed crimson.
The screams grew gradually weaker.
Turning to moans, then gasps, and finally—silence.
Jang Sam stopped.
On the floor lay two shapes. They could no longer be called human.
He stood quietly, still gripping his blade, drenched from head to toe in blood.
"You've butchered them well."
A voice came from behind him.
Jang Sam turned his head.
Master Seokgye stood at the doorway.
There was no telling when he had arrived, or how he had entered.
He simply stood there, silent, his back to the evening sunlight.
"Truly, an excellent handiwork."
Master Seokgye nodded with a satisfied expression.
"You've cleaned up as neatly as expected."
He curled his lips into a peculiar smile and spoke in a low voice.
"Three catties of the choicest cuts, if you would."
For a moment, Jang Sam's face went blank.
But soon, he nodded and approached the wife's corpse.
Just as he raised his cleaver—
"Ah, no. Not that."
Master Seokgye's eyes gleamed as he spoke.
"The most delicious part of the meat isn't from the carcass, but from what's freshly extracted, wouldn't you agree?"
His gaze changed.
No longer human—deep, dark, cold, like staring into the abyss itself.
Jang Sam's eyes widened.
In that instant, he understood everything.
His wife's betrayal.
His child's death.
That all of this... had been the delusion he'd harbored all along.
Crrk.
When he turned his head, the dead figure beside his wife wasn't some stranger—it was his own child.
His beloved child had been sleeping peacefully beside her, while he, lost in his delusion, had committed unspeakable cruelty.
"Huh... HUH-HUH-HUH."
Laughter burst out of him, though he didn't know why.
After cackling for a long while, Jang Sam slowly pressed the blade against his own thigh.
It didn't hurt. No—he felt nothing at all.
As he carved out a chunk of flesh, bright crimson blood spilled forth.
"No. There's a part that must be fresh to be edible."
At Master Seokgye's words, Jang Sam finally nodded. He realized what the man wanted.
He placed the blade against his own chest.
Sliding it between his ribs—
Tuk.
He pulled something out.
"Here... take it."
With trembling hands, he offered it with all his remaining strength.
Master Seokgye smiled, wrapping it in a cloth he had prepared.
In that moment, Jang Sam's life flashed before his eyes—his mistakes, his sins, all of it.
He hadn't suspected his wife's infidelity from the start.
He had simply felt unworthy.
That a woman so beautiful would marry a lowly butcher like him—it was unbelievable.
The problem was, that unworthiness, that fortune...
Over time, it had slowly twisted into anxiety.
"How are we supposed to live on this money?"
Poverty... a life steeped in the stench of blood.
His wife never understood the hardships of his daily toil, always complaining.
Truthfully, all wives nagged their husbands out of habit, but—
"She must be cheating—that's why she nags like this."
Jang Sam, ever suspicious, believed her complaints were proof of infidelity.
"She must be comparing me to another man—that's why her resentment grows."
So, day after day, he imagined it.
His wife abandoning their child, betraying him.
And then, discovering it—finally butchering the two of them with satisfaction.
Thud.
As he reflected on his life, on his misplaced suspicions, Jang Sam finally drew his last breath.
His lifeless eyes remained fixed on Master Seokgye, still clutching the wrapped bundle.
"Do you resent me?"
Master Seokgye clicked his tongue, looking down at the dead man.
"I merely made your delusions a little clearer."
His voice was low, almost amused.
"The fantasies you dreamed of every night—the ones you longed for."
In truth, it was Jang Sam who had wanted to abandon the child.
It was Jang Sam who had wished for his wife's corruption.
He had blamed his wretched poverty on them both.
Whenever exhaustion weighed on him, whenever the child's piercing cries filled the air—
Beyond irritation, killing intent had surged.
"Had he not met his wife, he would have fallen long ago—become a Killing Ghost."
Jang Sam had been born with the blood of a Killing Ghost.
Only after meeting his wife and having a child had he learned to suppress that bloodlust.
Master Seokgye had seen through it—and simply helped him embrace what he was meant to be.
"Corrupting humans, creating evil spirits—that's the real entertainment."
A demon who sinned endlessly, like an unending hell.
One who tainted souls and devoured their flesh.
The worst of the Demonic Path—irredeemable to the core.
That was Master Seokgye.
No—the Unceasing Demon Patriarch.
Kurung.
Then, the sky darkened.
The evening glow vanished in an instant, replaced by rolling black clouds.
They spread like wings engulfing the heavens—no, like the form of a dragon summoning a storm.
The Unceasing Demon Patriarch tilted his head up, lips twisting.
"So, you've finally come."
His voice held no surprise at all.
Kwa-wooong.
As the dragon's form descended, a shadow clad in black robes materialized.
Cold eyes, tightly pressed lips.
Deep, enigmatic pupils glimpsed through long strands of hair—
Bu Eun-seol.
Had he taken in the scene and seethed with rage?
Brrr.
A faint glimmer of lightning flickered in Bu Eun-seol's eyes, his fingers trembling ever so slightly.
At the same time, a thin ripple of energy and fragmented light whispered across the surface of his sword, Ink Soul Sword.
But the Unceasing Demon Patriarch didn't notice at all, smiling leisurely as he spoke.
"The most extraordinary prodigy under heaven... the next Number One of the Demonic Path."
He spread both hands and spoke calmly.
"For the Martial Soul Lord to personally come all this way to find me—what an honor."