Chapter 421
Hyeokryeon Eung was presumed to be part of the highest echelons of the Three Realms. From Bu Eun-seol's perspective, he could be considered a formidable adversary.
Yet Bu Eun-seol approached him with an utterly composed expression.
"Hall Leader."
Then, bending at the waist, he offered a bow of utmost courtesy.
"Have you been well all this time?"
This greeting was not directed at a leader of the Three Realms, nor at a spy.
It was a salutation reserved solely for Hyeokryeon Eung—the Chief Instructor who had saved his life on Hell Island, and the current Guardians' Faction Master of the Demon Hall.
"Hoohoho."
Hyeokryeon Eung, having discerned Bu Eun-seol's intent, responded with a pleased chuckle and a nod.
"It has been a long time."
The Hyeokryeon Eung Bu Eun-seol had seen on Hell Island was a martial artist whose entire body exuded an indescribable majesty, his eyes radiating an untouchable light.
But now, he had become an entirely different person.
His countenance appeared remarkably gentle, his pupils brimming with the glow of profound wisdom... He looked almost like a military strategist commanding hundreds of thousands of troops.
Had his voice been different—
Had his gaze and expression changed—
Bu Eun-seol would have taken far longer to recognize him as Hyeokryeon Eung.
"You've grown splendidly."
The expression on Hyeokryeon Eung's face as he observed Bu Eun-seol carried a hint of admiration, as though he were appreciating a magnificent work of art.
"Far more than I anticipated."
For an instant, Bu Eun-seol's eyes wavered.
Because in that moment, he recalled Hyeokryeon Eung's desperate appearance on Hell Island—how he had halted the tournament to save him.
That single memory alone was enough to prevent Bu Eun-seol from making the first move against him.
"Why me?"
With a sigh, he finally voiced the question that had lingered in his heart.
"Why did you save me?"
That inquiry carried layers of unspoken meaning.
"Hoho."
Hyeokryeon Eung exhaled a soft breath through his nose, studying Bu Eun-seol with an expression mingling countless emotions.
"Because your aptitude was the most exceptional among the prodigies of Hell Island."
His gaze drifted toward the distant sky.
"But what truly mattered to me was your potential—the temperament that could transcend even the limits of bone structure and martial talent to become a supreme Great Demon."
"Hell Island had many outstanding prodigies, but you alone possessed the disposition to reach the apex of the Overbearing Path as a Great Demon."
Hyeokryeon Eung's eyes gleamed as they swept over Bu Eun-seol.
"As expected, you became the Heir of the Demon Hall. Yet there was something I failed to anticipate."
He let out another nasal sigh and shook his head.
"You possessed abilities and qualities far surpassing what I had imagined."
Hyeokryeon Eung's face twisted into a bitter expression as he regarded Bu Eun-seol.
"As the Heir, you were supposed to clash endlessly with the Demonic Path Ten Gates, sowing constant discord within the Demon Hall. Yet there was neither conflict nor upheaval."
For a moment, Hyeokryeon Eung's shimmering pupils rippled like disturbed water.
"Instead, you subdued the Demonic Path Ten Gates one by one whenever the opportunity arose. That... was never how things were meant to unfold."
Bu Eun-seol faintly understood his meaning.
Hyeokryeon Eung had likely expected him, as the Demon Hall's Heir, to engage in perpetual conflict with the leaders of the Demonic Path Ten Gates.
But his actions had diverged completely from those expectations.
Because the title of Heir meant nothing to him. The only thing he desired was to find the murderer who had killed his grandfather.
Yet there was another reason—one even Bu Eun-seol himself remained unaware of: he carried within him the temperament of a Renowned Hero.
Bu Eun-seol's spirit and mind held a paradoxical duality—capable of becoming either a Great Demon or a hero of the Righteous Faction.
In the end, he had chosen the Middle Path, and as a result, his actions had defied all of Hyeokryeon Eung's predictions.
You moved in a way I never anticipated.
That was what Hyeokryeon Eung was telling him.
The Three Realms had always manipulated factions and figures to suit their own tastes.
"So that's why you summoned me."
A flash of light flickered in Bu Eun-seol's eyes.
"Because the puppet you meant to control started moving on its own... and now you wish to string me up properly again?"
Hyeokryeon Eung nodded crisply.
"Correct."
Bu Eun-seol took a deep breath.
With Hyeokryeon Eung admitting it so plainly, there was nothing left to say.
Even if he questioned him about the Three Realms, he would receive no answers.
Because in Hyeokryeon Eung's eyes, he was nothing more than a marionette to be strung up and manipulated.
He likely felt no obligation to answer at all.
"Do you truly believe you can string me up?"
"Hohoho. I'm well aware that your Martial Arts True Scripture has progressed at a speed beyond imagination. By now, you've likely reached the perfected Extreme Heaven Realm."
Hyeokryeon Eung spoke with an unconcerned expression.
"Even if I, a master who has attained the Martial Extreme Realm, were to face you, escaping unscathed wouldn't be impossible... That must be the calculation that brought you here."
Bu Eun-seol gave a slight nod.
Even if Hyeokryeon Eung was a master of the Martial Extreme Realm... Even if every martial artist from Prince Wei's Residence poured out and surrounded him...
He had been confident that he could break through such an encirclement with dignity—that was why he had come here alone, head held high.
"In the history of Murim, few have advanced their Martial Arts True Scripture as swiftly as you. You may take pride in that..."
Hyeokryeon Eung gazed at Bu Eun-seol with a faint smile.
"...But unfortunately, there is far too much you do not know."
In an instant, darkness swallowed Bu Eun-seol's vision.
Hyeokryeon Eung's voice and gaze—
Everything he had heard and seen until now had woven into a transparent net, ensnaring his spirit and mind.
'Spirit Summoning Secret Voice.'
Only then did Bu Eun-seol grasp the answer to the great mystery that had eluded him all this time.
The reason Hyeokryeon Eung had been able to maintain a dual identity within the Demon Hall, where the Demonic Heavenly Emperor resided—
It was not only because he had constructed a mental barrier so formidable that even the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's abilities could not pierce it...
But also because he had reached the pinnacle of the Mind Seizing Secret Art, capable of freely manipulating the spirit and mind of others.
"A pity, but there's no helping it."
Hyeokryeon Eung's voice seeped into Bu Eun-seol's ears like melting wax.
"No matter how excellent a chess piece may be, it becomes useless if it moves on its own."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
With each utterance of Hyeokryeon Eung's voice, Bu Eun-seol felt his spirit and mind tremble to their roots, his bodily sensations gradually fading away.
Spirit Summoning Secret Voice.
Astonishingly, Hyeokryeon Eung wielded the Mind Seizing Secret Art—the very technique of the Illusion King, Sa Ok-cheong—
With even greater mastery and power than the Illusion King himself.
"Were you and the Illusion King fellow disciples?"
"Fellow disciples? Heh."
Hyeokryeon Eung let out a bitter chuckle.
"That pitiful wretch who barely grasped the Spirit Summoning Secret Voice at fifty percent proficiency, yet dared to claim the grandiose title of 'Illusion King'—only to die by your hand?"
Hyeokryeon Eung's honeyed voice gradually sharpened into the serrated edge of a demon's saw, tightening around Bu Eun-seol's throat.
"Sa Ok-cheong. He was but one of the disciples I taught the Mind-Ensnaring Art."
Bu Eun-seol's eyes flickered.
The Illusion King had been nearly ninety years old.
Yet Hyeokryeon Eung, not even seventy—how could he have been the Illusion King's master?
Had he transcended age itself, accepting Sa Ok-cheong—older than him—as his disciple?
"You must have many questions, but what good would answers do you now?"
Hyeokryeon Eung took a step closer.
"You'll soon be nothing more than a mute doll."
Bu Eun-seol furrowed his brow.
The reason he had persistently engaged Hyeokryeon Eung in conversation was simple—he had been curious how the man would refer to himself.
But Hyeokryeon Eung never used titles like "Alliance Leader."
From beginning to end, he had only ever referred to himself with the simple word "I."
Perhaps it was a habit ingrained from concealing his true identity for so long.
Crack.
As Bu Eun-seol channeled his Internal Power, thick veins bulged across his body.
Then, his stiffened limbs began to move—slowly, but surely.
Incredibly, he was gradually breaking free of Hyeokryeon Eung's Spirit Summoning Secret Voice.
Shiiing.
The moment he finally drew his sword, Hyeokryeon Eung only smiled wider.
"What I admired about you was never your martial arts—but that indomitable will of yours."
Hyeokryeon Eung approached Bu Eun-seol, who now held the Ink Sword, as if it were nothing.
Whoosh.
Bu Eun-seol attempted to unleash his sword techniques in an instant.
But before he could—his body locked up once more.
Hyeokryeon Eung's Spirit Summoning Secret Voice was on an entirely different level from the Illusion King's.
Where the Illusion King had used illusions indistinguishable from reality to plunge his victims into hallucinations before exploiting the gaps in their spirit and mind...
Hyeokryeon Eung had already seized control of Bu Eun-seol's consciousness with nothing but his gaze and voice.
"You will make an excellent puppet."
Hyeokryeon Eung's smile deepened.
Knowing full well that Bu Eun-seol would never yield to persuasion—
He was now dominating his mind without another word.
'I won't lose.'
Bu Eun-seol bit his lip until it bled.
Clang.
But regardless of his will, the Ink Sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.
"Truly remarkable. Your body refuses to obey, yet your mind remains unbroken."
Hyeokryeon Eung's voice coiled around Bu Eun-seol's consciousness like an otherworldly force.
"It seems pain will be necessary."
Hyeokryeon Eung extended his left hand with a laugh.
"To shatter the barriers of the mind, nothing surpasses the Scorching Pain—the agony of being burned alive."
Whoosh.
Flames erupted from his palm, coalescing into a sphere as radiant as the sun.
'The Flame Emperor's Qi?!'
Bu Eun-seol's eyes widened as he beheld it.
"Not only is he a master of the Mind-Seizing Art, but he can even wield the martial arts of the Eight Emperors and Three Saints?"
"A mere puppet doll has no need for such a dazzling exterior."
Hyeokryeon Eung extended his hand.
Sssss—!
Suddenly, white smoke began to rise from Bu Eun-seol's face.
The Flame Emperor's Qi emanating from Hyeokryeon Eung was melting the skin of Bu Eun-seol's face—everywhere except his eyes.
"Ugh...!"
Bu Eun-seol let out a stifled groan at the agony, as if his very soul were being burned away.
He had clearly miscalculated.
No matter how strong Hyeokryeon Eung was, no matter how many elite martial artists from Prince Wei's Residence swarmed him—he had been confident he could escape any crisis.
But Hyeokryeon Eung possessed martial arts that far exceeded Bu Eun-seol's expectations.
A martial discipline that transcended even the Martial Arts True Scripture.
The very same martial arts Bu Eun-seol had always been wary of—Hyeokryeon Eung wielded them effortlessly.
Sssss—!
As his scorched skin gradually softened, even Bu Eun-seol's ironclad Spirit and Mind began to melt away.
—Resist. Don't resist. Give up resisting...
His sense of self was fading, his consciousness assimilating into Hyeokryeon Eung's dominating will.
But only for a moment.
A blaze of Indomitable Will reignited in Bu Eun-seol's pupils.
'Never...! You will never dominate my mind!'
CRACK! Zzzt—!
At that instant, a golden Flash erupted from his eyes.
Simultaneously, his fingers—previously paralyzed—began to twitch.
This time, it was Hyeokryeon Eung who had miscalculated.
No matter how formidable Bu Eun-seol's willpower was, he had been certain the Spirit Summoning Secret Voice would be indefensible.
But Bu Eun-seol had suffered direct assaults on his Spirit and Mind from masters of the Martial Extreme Realm time and again.
Thus, the resilience of his mental barriers far surpassed Hyeokryeon Eung's expectations—and even as his face burned under the Flame Emperor's Qi...
He had been resisting the Spirit Summoning Secret Voice's mana all along.
Twitch—!
In an instant, sensation flooded back into his stiffened body.
'This is my chance!'
Whoosh—!
Bu Eun-seol kicked off the ground with all his strength, leaping backward.
In one decisive motion, he hurled himself off the cliff.
"Damn it—!"
Hyeokryeon Eung, realizing his blunder, immediately activated his Movement Technique.
In a single breath, he unleashed the Qi Absorption Art, reaching for Bu Eun-seol's collar like a hawk snatching its prey.
But just as his fingers grazed the fabric—
Whiiiir—!
Bu Eun-seol's body spun violently midair, accelerating his fall downward instead of being pulled back.
Deprived of any means to use martial arts, he twisted into a somersault, using momentum to plunge faster.
Riiip—!
With the sound of tearing cloth, all that remained in Hyeokryeon Eung's grasp was a scrap of fabric.
Whoooosh—!
Bu Eun-seol plummeted into the abyss of the Ten-Thousand-Zhang Cliff.
Hyeokryeon Eung could only stare blankly as his figure shrank into the distance.
SPLASH—!
At the bottom of the unfathomable cliff raged a ferocious river.
The waters swallowed Bu Eun-seol whole, then surged violently eastward as if nothing had happened.
"After him—NOW!"
At Hyeokryeon Eung's roar, a Black Shadow descended behind him.
"Spare no means. I don't care how—bring him back, even if it's just his corpse."
The shadow bowed and vanished just as swiftly.
Hyeokryeon Eung glared down at the mist-shrouded abyss with a look of bitter frustration.
"A terrifying bastard. To break free of my Spirit Summoning Secret Voice and leap off a cliff..."
Only now did he realize his grave mistake.
He had underestimated Bu Eun-seol.
Instead of trying to dominate his mind with the Spirit Summoning Secret Voice—he should have killed him on sight.
Byeokgye Village
Nestled at the foot of Green Creek Mountain in southern Guangxi, this was a village of beggars.
The beggar gangs here were so numerous they couldn't possibly huddle near the main settlement—so they had formed their own separate community, living a communal life.
And into this vagrant village came a young beggar with a face more grotesque than any before.
His features were a ruin of burns and unhealed scabs.
Day after day, he crouched in silence, speaking to no one.
When hunger gnawed at him, he caught insects or scavenged dead rats.
He never begged.
He simply sat, vacant-eyed, letting time slip by.
"That wretch won't even get a scrap of cold rice acting like that."
Even the villagers clicked their tongues and shook their heads at the sight of him.
A beggar's duty was to beg.
A smooth tongue and proper demeanor weren't optional—they were fundamental skills.
But the young beggar always carried himself with an air of indifference toward others, and his features were so grotesquely disfigured...
Even meeting his gaze was enough to stir discomfort.
Perhaps aware of this, the young beggar simply sat motionless at the deserted village outskirts, staring vacantly into empty space.
"Mumu! Are you at it again?"
Just then, a plump beggar with a face and belly swollen like steamed buns approached the hideously scarred beggar.
His name was Fatty.
He was the very man who had discovered the young beggar—Mumu—on the brink of death by the riverside and saved him.
"Why the hell do you always just sit there staring blankly where no one's around?"
Even at Fatty's question, Mumu didn't so much as offer a reply.
But Fatty seemed accustomed to this behavior. He sighed and shook his head.
"Honestly. I may have given it to you, but damn if it isn't the perfect name. No name, no answers..."
Fatty trailed off, recalling the first time he'd met the silent beggar crouching before him, refusing to even look his way.
A month ago, while walking along the riverbank, Fatty had been startled.
There, lying collapsed by the water's edge, was a man whose clothes were torn to shreds, his face a melted ruin covered in thick scabs... a visage so horrifically disfigured it defied description.
"He's still breathing, isn't he?"
Alarmed, Fatty had hurried over to the fallen man.
"And his clothes look expensive..."
Fatty had grinned crookedly.
Despite the man's monstrous appearance, his attire suggested considerable wealth.
If he nursed him back to health, surely there'd be a generous reward.
So he gathered medicinal herbs and tended to the man diligently... only for events to take a completely unexpected turn.
"Your honored name is—"
"Don't know."
"You... don't know your own name?"
Fatty's face fell.
He'd assumed that once the man regained consciousness, he'd receive a handsome reward.
But this disfigured wretch not only didn't know his own name—he seemed to know nothing at all.
No, to be precise, it was as if he'd lost his memories entirely.
He couldn't recall who he was, nor why he'd collapsed by the river.
Then something bizarre happened.
The man, now conscious, looked around as if hungry... and began plucking insects from the riverside to eat.
Watching intently, Fatty slapped his own forehead in dismay.
"Good grief, so much for 'honored sir'—he's just another beggar!"
The bugs the man was eating...
They were the kind only vagrants and beggars knew were safe to consume raw without falling ill.
"Tch. Looks like I've gone and saved another pitiful soul."
Fatty shook his head as he studied the man's melted features beneath the tangled hair.
Now that he knew the man was just a beggar, any thought of reward had to be abandoned.
'Wait—no.'
Then a clever idea struck him.
What if he brought this man into the beggar gang? Wouldn't that mean gaining a direct subordinate?
"A drifting life like tumbleweed's all the same anyway, isn't it?"
Now that he knew they were of the same lot, Fatty dropped formalities.
"Who knows where you've been rolling around before, but now that you're in Byeokgye Village... you should join our gang."
The man continued stuffing bugs into his mouth, indifferent.
"Hey! Are you listening? Hey! HEY!"
After shouting at the man for a while, Fatty suddenly felt something was amiss.
No name.
He couldn't keep calling his would-be subordinate "hey" forever.
"No name. You've got no name..."
Muttering to himself, his eyes suddenly widened, and he nodded decisively.
"That's it! Your name's Mumu! No name, no memories, nothing at all!"
And so Fatty named the man Mumu and brought him into his beggar gang.
After spending a long time together, Fatty came to realize one more thing about Mumu.
This guy had a personality as wooden as a log and wouldn't listen to others even if his life depended on it.
Munch munch munch
And when hungry, he'd devour anything around him without begging or hesitation.
When Mumu was hungry, he'd crouch down and busily gather bugs to eat, whether anyone was watching or not.
"Tch, what a piece of work."
Having finished his reminiscence, Fatty crouched beside Mumu.
People said beggars lived carefree lives, but the reality was that even a single spoonful of rice was hard-won. And getting beaten at the drop of a hat... made for an exhausting existence.
But Mumu was truly without a care.
He lived peacefully, as if untouched by hardship or weariness.
And watching him quietly... Fatty found himself feeling an inexplicable tranquility.
Munch munch munch
Meanwhile, Mumu, apparently hungry again, was gathering and eating more bugs.
Fatty silently observed him with a fixed gaze.
"Oh? That guy? Eating bugs again?"
Just then, five members of the beggar gang approached from the village outskirts.
They were the very beggars of Byeokgye Village to which Fatty belonged.