Chapter 1259
A flash of insight flickered in Bu Eun-seol's pupils as he scrutinized the stone statue.
"In the end, it means he held countless lives in the palm of his hand and toyed with them."
Calling it 'transcending limits' was just a pretty way to phrase it.
In truth, hadn't it robbed people of those they loved?
Hadn't it pushed them into an inescapable abyss of despair and ruined their lives?
"These things..."
As he ventured deeper inside, even more grotesque statues came into view.
One had the beautiful face of a woman carved only halfway, while the other half bore the visage of a man mid-roar.
The rest of the statue remained an unshaped boulder, making it impossible to discern clothing or physique.
"Unfinished..."
These were incomplete sculptures, not yet fully realized.
"There's nothing here."
He placed a hand on the statue, but as expected, there was nothing inside.
Further in, more unfinished statues gradually revealed themselves—some with only faces carved, others with only torsos, and some even bearing engravings of weapons or rare artifacts.
Then—he froze.
Bu Eun-seol, who had been moving inward, suddenly widened his eyes and halted mid-step.
At the very end stood a massive statue, posed mid-battle with a great blade slung across its back.
Though its face remained uncarved, the great blade, the attire, and the stance alone were enough to reveal its identity.
"That... is me, isn't it?"
He frantically felt around the statue's interior, but like the unfinished sculptures before it, there was nothing inside.
"The incomplete statues represent those who escaped Hall Master Sado's grasp—those who failed to awaken as he intended."
The depiction of himself on the statue...
Showed him wielding his grandfather's great blade, his clothes thoroughly drenched in blood.
"He wanted to turn me into the second coming of the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade."
If so, then obtaining the Bloody Tears Seven Forms...
And acquiring Journey—had all been according to the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's design?
"No, that can't be."
Obtaining Journey had been an extremely coincidental event, one that left no room for the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's interference.
If he were capable of manipulating even that, he would be no different from a god.
There would be no need to drive people to despair just to spur their growth.
"What is certain... is that he was confident I would inherit my grandfather's blade techniques."
In the end, just as the Demonic Heavenly Emperor had predicted, Bu Eun-seol had indeed obtained the Bloody Tears Seven Forms.
The only difference was that he hadn't moved according to the emperor's will afterward.
What if he hadn't pursued the Martial Way?
What if he had failed to suppress the temperament of a Great Demon and remained consumed solely by vengeance?
He would have had no reason to train in any other martial art—only dedicating himself to mastering the Bloody Tears Seven Forms.
By refining a technique unrivaled through the ages, he could have reached invincibility.
But Bu Eun-seol had chosen to follow in his grandfather's footsteps while carving his own path.
Because of that, he hadn't clung to the Bloody Tears Seven Forms—instead wandering in search of his own insights.
And ultimately, he had created the realm of Void Extreme Realm.
"Because he couldn't manipulate me as he wished... he left the statue unfinished."
When he first entered the Martial World, he had been nothing more than a pawn on the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's chessboard, unaware of the game being played.
But belatedly, he had realized this—and through effort, freed himself from the emperor's domination.
What if he hadn't?
What if he had pursued strength alone, striving only to follow his grandfather's path?
Then, just as the Demonic Heavenly Emperor intended...
He would have become a new Seven Fingers Demonic Blade, clinging solely to vengeance and cutting down his enemies.
And that statue... would have been completed.
"Why does he drive people to lose those they love, using that despair and grief to spur their growth?"
If his goal was simply to unify the Martial World under his rule...
Then like the Baekri Clan or the True Demon Palace...
He should have suppressed the growth and evolution of martial artists, blocking their access to knowledge.
Yet the Demonic Heavenly Emperor acted in direct opposition to them.
Even if it meant plunging people into despair and sorrow...
He wanted their latent talents to bloom, propelling them to even greater heights.
"To oppose the Baekri Clan and the True Demon Palace?"
That was a plausible theory.
After all, those two factions were the greatest obstacles to unifying the Martial World.
Could it be that the Demonic Heavenly Emperor was mass-producing martial experts of his own caliber to stand against them?
"No."
Bu Eun-seol shook his head.
The Demonic Heavenly Emperor might manipulate others like puppets...
But he was not the kind of man to rely on external aid or rally forces to achieve his ambitions.
"Well, I'll figure it out one step at a time."
He wouldn't be able to grasp the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's true intentions in a single moment.
But by gathering clues like this, piece by piece, the truth would eventually reveal itself.
Soon enough, they would face each other in a life-or-death battle—there was no need to rush.
Yet how could he have known?
That in the not-so-distant future...
Within the most secretive depths of the Imperial Palace...
He would uncover the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's true purpose.
"To test... my martial prowess."
Bu Eun-seol, lost in thought for a long while, murmured under his breath.
"......Is that it?"
Before revealing the Mad Doctor's whereabouts...
The Demonic Heavenly Emperor had demanded an answer in return—his definition of an invincible realm.
—I look forward to it.
And after hearing his response, the emperor had nodded with eyes brimming with desire.
Almost as if... he had acknowledged him as a worthy rival.
"Then this Secret Vault might have been intentionally exposed as well."
—I acknowledge you as my worthy opponent.
As Bu Eun-seol gazed at the shattered stone statue, the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's voice seemed to echo in his mind.
"Of course."
Bu Eun-seol murmured low under his breath.
Whether it was unifying the Martial World or eradicating all forces threatening murim—
They had mutually acknowledged that their ultimate goals were not fundamentally different, and had promised to eventually settle things in a life-or-death duel.
Until that day came,
They would walk the same path, pretending not to know each other's true intentions even as they did.
The bitter, pungent scent of medicinal herbs stung his nose.
That was the first sensation Seok U-haeng registered upon returning to the world of the living.
Finally, his eyes fluttered open.
His flesh had rotted, his organs decayed, and he had stepped right to the threshold of the underworld—
Yet thanks to Gwak Mu-su, who had inherited all of the Mad Doctor's medical skills, he had narrowly escaped death once more.
However, the process had been—
No exaggeration—like dredging up a corpse from the depths of hell.
His entire body was now riddled with countless scars beyond reckoning.
"......"
Seok U-haeng's brow twitched as he surveyed his own body.
The decaying flesh had been excised, replaced by fresh tissue—
Yet black sutures crawled like centipedes across his skin, and a long, jagged scar ran from his forehead down his cheek.
Strangely enough,
Far from appearing grotesque, the scars exuded a savage, masculine ferocity.
Creak.
Just then, the door opened, and footsteps approached.
Swish.
But Seok U-haeng didn't even glance in that direction. Instead, he slowly made his way toward the bronze mirror hanging on the wall.
His appearance had changed so drastically—
That even he could barely recognize the face staring back at him.
"From now on, no one will know who you are."
When he turned his head, two figures stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind him.
The one on the left had an aloof demeanor that matched his deep-set eyes and sharp nose.
Beside him, the other man—muscular and short-haired—grinned, flashing white teeth.
Yu Un-ryong and Myo Cheon-u.
"Guess you've got some karma to pay for wiping out the Elite Soldiers of the Extreme Killing Secret Pavilion," Yu Un-ryong remarked dryly, his gaze fixed on Seok U-haeng.
"If the Pavilion Master learns your true identity, he'll go berserk trying to kill you... So I heard they altered your face a bit during the treatment."
To ensure Seok U-haeng could live freely without being hunted by the Extreme Killing Secret Pavilion—
Bu Eun-seol had arranged for his features to be reshaped during the healing process.
"Actually, seems like he's just sulking over the scars?"
Myo Cheon-u clicked his tongue as he took in Seok U-haeng's heavily scarred face and body.
"Hey, don't sweat it."
With a nonchalant shrug, he lifted the hem of his clothes.
"Look at this. You think I got off unscathed?"
He pointed to a thick, jagged wound across his abdomen.
When Seok U-haeng remained silent, Myo Cheon-u nudged Yu Un-ryong with a nod.
Yu Un-ryong reluctantly lifted his own robe, revealing a torso mottled with purple and red scars.
"They say the scars on a warrior's face are proof of how long he's been chewing on blades. So wipe that scowl off."
Seok U-haeng's eyes narrowed at Myo Cheon-u's chatter.
Back on Hell Island, these two had been so cautious they barely spoke a word—
Now they were grinning like fools, babbling away.
His gaze turned icy as it lingered on them.
After a brief silence, his voice—dry and cracked—finally emerged.
"...What, are we playing happy friends now?"
"Happy friends?"
"I'd heard you both became Bu Eun-seol's lackeys long ago."
The corner of Seok U-haeng's chapped lips twisted in disdain.
"Seeing you like this, you're just a pair of beaten dogs licking each other's wounds."
The insult cut like a dagger.
Under normal circumstances, fists would have flown—
But Myo Cheon-u and Yu Un-ryong merely exchanged glances, then burst into stifled laughter.
"Even after crawling back from death's door, that mouth of yours is still alive and kicking."
"Leave him be. He's still got that assassin's pretentious edge. Once he recovers, he'll figure it out."
With a dismissive wave, the two turned and strode out, letting Seok U-haeng's venomous words slide off them.
Watching their retreating backs through the closing door, Seok U-haeng scoffed.
"Who the hell... would stay in a place like this?"
He tried forcing himself upright.
But the moment his feet touched the floor, his legs gave way, nearly sending him crashing down.
Had he not mustered every ounce of strength to steady himself, the result would have been pitiful.
Though his rotted muscles had healed, they were still far from functional.
"You'll need at least a month of rest in this hall."
A weary voice spoke from behind.
Turning, he saw an elderly man with a stern expression standing ramrod straight, his back unbent.
It was Gyo Jung-hak, the Lord of the Medicine King Faction.
He slowly approached and extended a wooden cane toward Seok U-haeng.
"Use this."
"I don't need it."
As Seok U-haeng forced himself to take a step, sweat dripping coldly down his back, Gyo Jung-hak's icy words cut through the air.
"Well, in that state, the best you can manage is playing the role of a beggar or a crippled shop assistant."
Seok U-haeng's footsteps halted abruptly.
"You can't insult me just because you treated me."
"Insult? I'm stating facts."
Gyo Jung-hak nodded.
"If you force that ragdoll of a body to move now, you'll end up a cripple for good. What else can you do besides being a beggar or a shop assistant?"
Tsk. The old man clicked his tongue and stepped closer.
"To restore your martial arts, the Martial Soul Lord opened the Spirit Medicine Vault of the Hidden Demon Pavilion. And then he begged me—said I absolutely had to bring your skills back."
Seok U-haeng's pupils trembled.
It was well known that the Hidden Demon Pavilion, where the Heir of the Demon Hall, the Martial Soul Lord resided, housed all manner of miraculous medicines.
And wasn't the old man before him one of the greatest physicians of the era?
For someone like him, who had nowhere left in the world to turn, this was the only place where his ruined body could be restored.
Bu Eun-seol was extending him the greatest possible kindness.
"Figures."
Seok U-haeng's expression twisted in disgust as if he had just realized something.
"You want me to become this place's dog?"
"Dream big, why don't you? You think just anyone can be a dog of the Death Shadow War Unit?"
"What?"
"You think the Death Shadow War Unit lacks masters of your caliber?"
Gyo Jung-hak snorted.
"Even if you barely recover that tattered body of yours, I doubt you'd be fit to be the Lord's dog. And right now? You can't even walk. Where exactly would we use a cripple like you?"
Seok U-haeng bit his lip in frustration but said nothing.
His pride was wounded, but the words were undeniably true.
"Fine. I'll stay until my martial arts are restored."
"Don't say it like you're doing me a favor. Whether you stay or leave means nothing to me."
Gyo Jung-hak's gaze was utterly frigid as he stared at Seok U-haeng.
"I only agreed to treat you because the Martial Soul Lord begged me relentlessly."
"......"
"But if you dare talk back or act insolently from now on, I won't treat you. Understand?"
After a long silence, Seok U-haeng lowered his head, meeting Gyo Jung-hak's stern eyes.
This wasn't the time for pride.
"I understand."
From that day on,
Seok U-haeng remained in the Medicine King Faction, slowly recovering his body.
Gwak Mu-su had stitched his torn muscles and tendons, reconnected his veins, and saved his life—
but as a result, his entire body had stiffened like a newborn foal.
Gyo Jung-hak put him through training to loosen his muscles for martial arts recovery and personally brewed medicine for him.
"You're enduring well."
Gyo Jung-hak watched Seok U-haeng, drenched in sweat as he held the Horse-Stance posture, a faint smile playing on his lips.
'Is it because he's an assassin? Or was he simply born with an abundance of patience?'
Maintaining the Horse-Stance in his current state was akin to having his body torn apart piece by piece.
But Seok U-haeng, trained in the Extreme Killing Secret Pavilion,
where he had learned to grow accustomed to pain and cultivate endurance, silently obeyed without complaint.
'It's been a while since I've felt this kind of pleasure.'
Gyo Jung-hak had not only witnessed Bu Eun-seol and the other Ten Demonic Heirs
but had also treated countless young talents of the Demonic Path since their early days in the martial world.
And before long, all of them
had become masters who shook the martial world, rising to high positions within the Demon Hall.
But the man before him was different.
His wounds still half-healed, his eyes brimming with venom, his spirit rebellious against the world—
It was a sight long unseen in the Demon Hall,
a warrior's demeanor reminiscent of a snarling young wolf from years past.
'I had given up on passing down the Vajra Body Refinement Art.'
Gyo Jung-hak's lips curled slightly.
'Perhaps I'll try again.'
Before he knew it, his hair had turned white, and he had reached an age where even having grandchildren wouldn't be surprising.
There had been many chances to leave the Demon Hall, yet he never did.
Not only did he find his sole joy in watching young talents like this one grow
and ensuring they didn't fall,
but it was also for the sake of perfecting the Soul-Refining Esoteric Art and the Vajra Body Refinement Art, techniques he had developed through treating them.
—If I can create a body that doesn't get injured in the first place, wouldn't that eliminate the need for treatment?
Heartbroken by the many young talents of the Demonic Path who lost their lives before their abilities could fully bloom,
he had begun developing the Soul-Refining Esoteric Art and the Vajra Body Refinement Art—techniques that would prevent them from being threatened by ordinary injuries.
—It's complete!
And though he had finally perfected this divine esoteric art, he soon fell into despair.
Among the youths of the Demon Hall, there had been no prodigy capable of learning it.
—No, even if I taught them, they wouldn't master it.
The Vajra Body Refinement Art was not only profoundly esoteric, but also inflicted ceaseless agony throughout its cultivation.
Thus, it demanded tremendous perseverance, patience, and the courage to face death itself.
Yet within the Demon Hall, countless supreme martial arts capable of shaking the martial world lay scattered like stars.
With no time to master even those, who would willingly endure such grueling training?
—Ah, there is one.
Gyo Jung-hak had finally found the prodigy capable of mastering this secret art.
Bu Eun-seol, the Ten Demonic Heir from Langya Pavilion.
If anyone could complete the Vajra Body Refinement Art, it would be him.
—I was wrong.
But upon examining Bu Eun-seol's physique, Gyo Jung-hak couldn't hide his disappointment.
Not only had he already neared Great Completion in Langya Pavilion's Beast Path,
but someone had also forced him to consume the Extreme Spring Spirit Water... rendering his vitality tougher than the sinews of a beast.
—Still, perhaps he might attempt something similar?
By then, Bu Eun-seol had become the Heir of the Demon Hall.
That meant he would inevitably suffer crushing defeats at the hands of countless masters.
Gyo Jung-hak had assumed he would eventually return to the Medicine King Faction with fatal injuries.
But that was a grave miscalculation.
From the moment he became the Martial Soul Lord,
Bu Eun-seol began commanding the world, and the days he returned wounded to the Demon Hall dwindled to none.
With strength that overwhelmed all and unfathomable strategies that ensured victory in every battle,
his name, Martial Soul Lord, blazed like the sun over the martial world, his influence growing ever stronger... until even the factions that once rivaled the Demon Hall vanished one by one.
—The Martial Soul Lord has many capable subordinates. What if I pass it to them?
His followers each possessed unique traits and exceptional talent.
But wasn't Bu Eun-seol already meticulously training them, tailoring martial arts to their individual natures?
—In the end, this secret art will be left in the Ten Thousand Demonic Secret Archive when I die.
Just as he had resigned himself completely,
that stubborn fool, Seok U-haeng, appeared—and Gyo Jung-hak's blood began to boil once more.
"Is the treatment over for today?"
Seok U-haeng, who had maintained the Horse Stance for two hours despite having no muscles at all, finally spoke.
Gyo Jung-hak, clearing his thoughts, asked in return,
"Are you satisfied with mere treatment?"
"What do you mean?"
"I can make you stronger than before. And shorten your treatment time."
Gyo Jung-hak grinned.
"But the pain will be enough to kill you. Still willing?"
"Spare me the nonsense."
Seok U-haeng scoffed.
"If there's a way to recover faster, just spit it out."
From that day onward,
Gyo Jung-hak began teaching Seok U-haeng the Vajra Body Refinement Art—a method to temper both spirit and flesh into unyielding steel.
In truth, it was closer to torture than training. Seok U-haeng never once woke without agony,
yet he endured silently, never faltering.
The two were alike.
Both were curt, speaking only when necessary.
Their backs, walking side by side in training, bore an uncanny resemblance—like a stubborn grandfather and his equally obstinate grandson.
Then, a season passed.
At dusk, atop a hill bathed in crimson sunlight, Seok U-haeng completed his training.
He had finally mastered the Vajra Body Refinement Art.
"Your training is finished."
Gyo Jung-hak spoke in a low voice.
"Unless your heart is torn apart or your brain bursts, you won't die easily now. Most wounds will heal on their own."
Seok U-haeng stared at the sunset as if deaf.
"Then go."
Gyo Jung-hak turned away.
Teaching Seok U-haeng had turned the hair at his temples even whiter.
"Why."
Suddenly, Seok U-haeng spoke.
"Did you become the Medicine King Faction Lord?"
At the abrupt question, Gyo Jung-hak frowned.
"Then why do you stay in the Demon Hall, looking like a beggar?"
"......"
"Such is life. Some, like the Martial Soul Lord, carve their own destiny and forge their path..."
Gyo Jung-hak's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the distant mountains.
"While others drift like tumbleweeds in the storm, only to take root wherever the wind abandons them."
Seok U-haeng fell silent, weighing the words.
Then he asked again,
"Then what should I do?"
He had feigned indifference all along,
but inwardly, he was lost.
He had become the Ten Demonic Heir of the Extreme Killing Secret Pavilion, only to commit suicide.
He awoke as the Buddhist Venerable's test subject, and now, he was a nameless warrior of the Demon Hall.
The harsh tides of the martial world had worn him down, yet he was not the type to farm or run a shop.
Had he been truly ruthless,
he could have become an assassin, using the Art of Killing he had learned. But he was weary of bloodshed.
So he asked.
Because he sensed that Gyo Jung-hak's life mirrored his own.
For the first time, he voiced the thoughts buried in his heart.
"I don't know what to do."
"It's fine not to know. No—it's inevitable."
Gyo Jung-hak tossed out his words carelessly.
"When that happens, look to those who share your era."
"My era?"
"He's right beside you."
Bu Eun-seol.
Unshackled by constraints, free from the chains of worldly rules and customs.
The future Number One of the Demonic Path—a man who defied impossibility with unrivaled brilliance.
And he stood within reach, just a turn of the head away.