Chapter 732
Flames seemed to flicker in Bu Eun-seol's eyes.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I said. The Baekri Clan has always endured—they've merely been crouching in a place no one could find."
"Why bring up the Baekri Clan so suddenly?"
"I heard it from the elder. That you might be of the Baekri bloodline."
That he might belong to the Baekri Clan was something Bu Eun-seol himself had long suspected.
But the Baekri Clan still existing?
Hadn't they vanished without a trace three hundred years ago?
"Did the Martial Venerable say that?"
"The Master spoke of it. He said all three legendary clans still endure, having merely concealed their traces themselves."
His expression was solemn beyond measure as he continued.
"And Baekri Mu-ha, the Murim's First Beauty, is said to be a descendant of that legendary Baekri Clan."
Bu Eun-seol clenched his fists.
This was something he had anticipated to some extent.
The Heavenly Darkness Star that Yang Seol-rin had mentioned, the Baekri Clan's abilities tied to the Mindscape.
And Baekri Mu-ha, who had briefly roamed the martial world, possessing such extraordinary martial prowess...
She couldn't have been an ordinary figure—she might have been someone from the legendary Baekri Clan.
But suspicion and truth are different.
Hearing Mu-gyeol confirm what he had only guessed until now as the truth left him no choice but to be shocked.
Moreover, they had endured all this time?
Then... did the Baekri Clan, like the Yangseol Clan, have a headquarters somewhere, meddling in the affairs of the martial world?
"The Martial Venerable told me Baekri Mu-ha was the successor of the Three Realms."
Lost in thought, Bu Eun-seol asked about something that had never made sense to him until now.
"But how could a descendant of the Baekri Clan become the successor of the Three Realms?"
"That part puzzled me too, so I asked the elder."
Mu-gyeol stared intently at Bu Eun-seol, whose eyes flashed sharply.
"Then the elder simply laughed and said, 'Of course it had to be that way.'"
In short, Jeong Cheon-je had said the legendary Baekri Clan had always endured, and Baekri Mu-ha was its descendant.
And the Martial Venerable had declared that Baekri Mu-ha could only be the successor of the Three Realms.
With a complicated expression, Bu Eun-seol let out a deep sigh.
'Had I just been an ordinary orphan, I wouldn't have suffered like this.'
In his memories, his parents were simply kind, ordinary people who had loved him.
In truth, they had been divine beings who transcended human limits, deeply entangled in the martial world's affairs.
And if Mu-gyeol's words were all true... then the Three Clans and the Three Realms were inextricably linked.
Having resolved to destroy the Three Realms, Bu Eun-seol couldn't help but be weighed down by these thoughts.
"I see."
Wiping away his rising thoughts, Bu Eun-seol clasped his hands together.
"Thank you for telling me."
"You risked your life to keep your promise, so I've merely repaid that debt."
A hint of friendship laced Mu-gyeol's words, but Bu Eun-seol was in no state to savor the sentiment.
"Well then."
With a dazed expression, Bu Eun-seol immediately left the Clear Dawn Pavilion.
"I suppose I was fated to emerge into the martial world one way or another."
Even without his grandfather, he had been destined to step into the martial world eventually.
Gazing at the distant sky, Bu Eun-seol shook his head and wore a hollow smile.
"Me, talking about fate."
He had never believed in fate.
Only now did he understand why the philosophers of the martial world so often spoke of it.
The further he advanced toward his goal,
the more it felt as though some unseen force was deliberately pushing him toward a certain place.
'I don't want to stay here any longer.'
The Demon Hall, which he had thought teemed with schemes and treachery, was peaceful by comparison.
This Martial Alliance was like a bottomless abyss, its dark maw swallowing the fates of countless people.
It made him sick to his stomach.
Bu Eun-seol left the Martial Alliance at once.
His mind was in turmoil.
In this state, he could do nothing.
'Let's find somewhere quiet for now.'
Looking back, both the Demon Hall and the Martial Alliance
were places where countless schemes unfolded, where crowds bustled—and where he had always stood at the center.
'But now...'
Now, he didn't want to linger where the fates of martial artists collided.
Murmur, clamor.
Though he had wandered out to Chengdu as if in a trance, the bustling marketplace only amplified his chaotic thoughts.
Boom!
With a deafening sound, Bu Eun-seol's figure instantly left Chengdu, moving to a quiet outskirts.
"Ah."
As he unfurled his Lightness Art, he let out a gasp.
Far removed from the village, a strangely familiar building and an aged signboard came into view.
Seo An Funeral Home.
A structure nearly identical to the Peaceful Burial House his grandfather had once run stood nestled in a quiet spot, away from the village.
Step, step.
Bu Eun-seol walked toward the place as if entranced.
Even though it was a place that reeked of the foul stench of death all year round.
Even though merely looking at it would earn you curses for bringing bad luck.
To Bu Eun-seol, it was simply a beautiful place—one that cleansed the bodies left behind by those who had departed the Saha World and buried them with the utmost respect.
'How could I visit such a place while carrying a bloodstained weapon of slaughter?'
His gaze flickered toward the Ink Soul Sword sheathed at his waist.
Whoosh—! Thud!
In an instant, the sword shot out and embedded itself deep into the ground beyond the dense forest, a hundred paces away.
Creak.
Then, Bu Eun-seol assumed the disguise of Seol-so, a face so ordinary it was utterly forgettable.
Squeak—
As he pushed open the weathered door and stepped inside, a neatly kept front courtyard came into view.
To the right stood the morgue, where corpses were laid out. Perhaps alerted by the sound of the gate opening—
The morgue door swung open, revealing an old man clad in a tattered gray robe.
Judging by his weary expression, it seemed he had stepped out in the middle of preparing a body.
'Hm.'
Bu Eun-seol's eyes narrowed as he peered through the open morgue door.
There was no plague spreading here, yet the morgue was piled high with corpses—why?
"Who're you?"
The old man studied Bu Eun-seol with uneasy eyes.
"Another corpse delivery?"
"No, not at all."
Bu Eun-seol bowed his head politely.
"I was merely wandering and happened upon this place. My apologies for disturbing your work."
The old man frowned, scrutinizing Bu Eun-seol—now disguised as Seol-so—with sharp attention.
Having dashed hundreds of li in a single breath, his entire body was caked in dust.
And from pushing his Lightness Skill to such extreme speeds, his clothes were torn in several places.
Swish.
Without a word, the old man turned and disappeared into the kitchen opposite the morgue.
When he reemerged, he held a plate of dumplings in his hands.
"Take these."
Bu Eun-seol reflexively accepted them.
They were cold—likely leftovers from a meal the old man had meant to eat after finishing his work but never got around to.
"I couldn't possibly—"
As Bu Eun-seol tried to refuse, the old man waved him off.
"It's fine. There's more inside."
Even beggars avoided funeral parlors.
People believed that just being near one would bring misfortune.
Seeing Bu Eun-seol's tattered clothes and dust-covered state,
the old man must have assumed he was a starving beggar who had wandered here in desperation.
'A reasonable misunderstanding.'
Bu Eun-seol smiled bitterly.
After all, who would visit a funeral parlor and gaze inside with such longing?
Even if the roles were reversed—
he, too, would assume someone had come here driven by hunger.
"Thank you."
Without further protest, Bu Eun-seol ate the cold dumplings.
Though stiff and hardened, they tasted more delicious than any delicacy he had ever eaten—and achingly nostalgic.
The old man watched with pity as Bu Eun-seol, still covered in dust, ate the stale dumplings with relish.
"Cough."
Had his mouth been parched all this time?
Or had his throat dried up from longing?
Without realizing it, Bu Eun-seol let out a dry cough.
"Eat slowly."
The old man scooped a bowl of clear water from the kitchen and handed it to him.
"Here."
When Bu Eun-seol lifted his head, he saw the old man's face bathed in sunlight.
Deep wrinkles lined his skin, and his eyes were nearly shut, so narrow they seemed closed.
Yet within them shone a gentle, warm light.
When Bu Eun-seol had coughed as a child, his grandfather would hurriedly fetch him water, just like this.
And he would watch over him with endless concern in his eyes.
Exactly like now.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Tears spilled from Bu Eun-seol's eyes as he held the bowl.
It wasn't intentional—just an unbidden outpouring of overwhelming longing.
"Oh dear."
The old man sighed softly at the sight of his tears.
"Hang in there. If you keep living... better days will come."
Then he patted Bu Eun-seol's back gently.
Tears streamed down.
The moment that warm hand touched him—
A single tear turned scalding hot.
If he could just see his grandfather's face one more time. If he could just be held in those warm arms once more.
If he could just breathe in that familiar, musty scent again—
He would give up everything he had without hesitation.
"Here."
As the old man offered the water again,
Gulp.
Bu Eun-seol took a sip, wiped his tears, and bowed his head in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry."
"What's there to be sorry about? It happens."
The old man smiled kindly and nodded at him.
"Take your time eating, then go when you're ready."
With that, he turned and headed back into the morgue.
Having given Bu Eun-seol the dumplings he had saved for lunch, it seemed he intended to return to his work—washing the corpses.
"Old Man."
Bu Eun-seol spoke to the retreating figure.
"I'll help you."
"With what?"
"I've eaten your food, so I should repay the debt."
When Eun-seol pointed toward the morgue, the old man waved his hands dismissively.
"That's quite alright."
The old man shook his head with visible distaste.
"This isn't work to be done carelessly. Without knowing the proper methods, you'd do more harm than good."
"Wise words."
Eun-seol rolled up his sleeves as he spoke.
"But don't let appearances fool you—I've worked as an undertaker for many years."
"An undertaker? You?"
"Yes. You can trust me with this."
Entering the morgue, Eun-seol began wringing out a cloth with practiced motions.
Enshrouding was grueling work because corpses secreted so much fluid.
Especially those who died alone—since they were often only discovered and reported to the Magistrate's Office long after death, most had already decomposed considerably.
The secretions were as abundant as those from bodies stabbed by weapons.
'So he mainly handles those who died alone, just like Grandfather.'
One look at the corpse told Eun-seol that this old man running Seo An Funeral Home
took commissions from the Magistrate's Office to enshroud and bury those who died away from home.
'Processing corpses of those who died away from home for the Magistrate's Office pays barely a few copper coins at best.'
Moreover, since the pay didn't cover burial clothes,
undertakers typically buried such bodies haphazardly wherever convenient when working on official requests.
Yet this old man prepared them meticulously without regard for payment—
just like Grandfather, Bu Jan-yang.
"My, my... you're quite skilled."
The old man's mouth fell open as he watched Eun-seol work.
With every touch, the corpse grew cleaner, even beginning to resemble its living self.
His movements were swift and precise.
What would have taken the old man three days and nights was completed before half a day had passed.
"To surpass even an old man who's spent his whole life as an undertaker... Remarkable."
Eun-seol smiled sheepishly.
"It's nothing special."
"With skills like these, you must have made quite a name for yourself. What do they call you?"
When Eun-seol hesitated, the old man—Seo An—shook his head.
"I too had a past I couldn't speak of—wandered for years. But when I found this place sharing my name... it felt like fate led me to this work."
'That's why he treated me so kindly.'
To Old Man Seo An, this wandering youth who'd stumbled into his funeral home must have seemed like his own past self.
"I'm called Seol-so. I once worked as an undertaker like yourself... but now I drift from place to place."
"Don't call me 'sir'—"
"Speak comfortably. Since you began this work before me, aren't you my senior?"
Finding this amusing, the old man laughed until his wrinkles deepened.
"Senior? Since when does corpse-washing have ranks?"
"Of course it does."
Seeing Eun-seol's utterly solemn expression, Seo An chuckled and nodded.
"Very well. Anyway, you should go now. You've more than repaid the meal."
"There's more to do?"
When Eun-seol blinked, the old man sighed.
"More will come. These days, the sick and ailing drop dead like flies."
"Is there a plague?"
"Not exactly, but the ill keep dying in droves. Despite Physician Yeon's tireless efforts..."
"Who is Physician Yeon?"
"You really are new here."
"I am."
Seo An exhaled heavily before explaining.
"Six months ago, a wandering physician named Yeon-wol came here. With so many sick folk in the district... she set up a permanent practice to treat patients."
"A wandering physician, you say?"
"Do you think any settled doctor would treat the poor for free?"
Seo An's expression turned bitter.
"Though for a traveling physician, her medical arts are astonishingly refined—she's healed countless people."
He shook his head.
"But no physician can save every patient... So many still die regardless."
Creak... creak...
Just then, the sound of aged wheels came from beyond the main gate.
Outside, a cart piled high with corpses covered in straw mats was approaching.
"See? More have arrived."
As Seo An sighed and moved to go out, Eun-seol raised a hand to stop him.
"Leave it. I'll handle this."
"You will?"
"Is there a problem?"
Seo An shook his head apologetically.
"Barely scraping by with enshroudings, I've no means to hire help."
"No need to worry about that."
Eun-seol flashed a bright, reassuring smile.
"I require no wages—just one dumpling per day."
"You'd work without pay?"
"What use has a wanderer for coin? A single dumpling to keep me fed each day is fortune enough."
Seo An wore an expression of incomprehension.
"With your skills, you could make ends meet as an undertaker anywhere. Why here, of all places?"
"There are... circumstances," Bu Eun-seol replied with an apologetic look.
"Though I won't be able to stay for long. I'll have to leave again eventually."
"Well, that's fine. Stay as long as you like, and do as you please."
The moment Seo An gave his permission, Bu Eun-seol's face brightened with a smile.
Like a boy in his childhood, happily spending time with his grandfather.
At that moment, he had no way of knowing.
That this meeting with Seo An—
Would become the trigger that allowed him to see the face of the mother he had yearned for so desperately.
That it would summon events beyond even his wildest imagination.
Bu Eun-seol stayed at Seo An Funeral Home, assisting Seo An with his work.
While performing the enshrouding rites here—
He could briefly forget about the Martial Alliance, the affairs of the Demon Hall... and even the vengeance that had always weighed heavily on his heart.
Seo An's personality was as benevolent as Bu Jan-yang's, never hesitating to help others.
Though his skills were not exceptional, and the enshrouding process took much longer, he treated the deceased with the same care as if they were his own family.
However, because the household was so impoverished, they lacked the means to dress the bodies in clean shrouds.
So while Bu Eun-seol performed the rites—
Seo An would repeatedly wash the corpses' clothes until they were spotless before dressing them again.
Perhaps it was because he had seen Bu Eun-seol's happy expression?
Watching this, So-yo—
Contacted the Death Soul Squad and requested that they fabricate records of Bu Eun-seol's movements, as he would be occupied with covert duties for some time.
'Just... rest a little.'
And So-yo herself also left Bu Eun-seol's side for a while.
She knew all too well that if she lingered nearby, he wouldn't be able to truly rest.
Creak.
As the sun reached its zenith, the door to the morgue in Seo An Funeral Home swung open.
Bu Eun-seol had stepped outside for a brief respite.
Gazing at the distant sky, his eyes now held a quiet peace.
'I think I understand why Grandfather told me to live an ordinary life.'
Here, there was no need to scheme against formidable enemies or train inhuman martial arts.
He simply worked diligently.
Ate when hungry.
Slept when tired.
The world was somewhat harsh, but he didn't have to strain himself looking at it.
He could use what he had to perform small acts of kindness and live each day as it came.
Splash, splash.
From the horse yards, the sound of water never ceased.
Seo An was washing bloodstained and soiled clothes in a large wooden tub.
—I'll take care of everything, so please rest, Elder.
Despite Bu Eun-seol's earnest pleas—
Seo An continued washing, trying to lighten his burden.
'Is the profession of an undertaker something not just anyone can do?'
Like Grandfather Bu Jan-yang, Seo An possessed kindness and warmth.
And that was no coincidence.
'It was a profession only the truly good-hearted could endure in the first place.'
Facing the dead day after day, performing rites with sincerity and reverence so the departed could find peace—
Yet earning little money and enduring the scorn of others.
In other words, the profession of an undertaker was ultimately—
Something only the steadfast and virtuous could dare undertake.
Swish.
After watching Seo An washing clothes in the yard, Bu Eun-seol quietly slipped back into the morgue.
As he prepared to resume the enshrouding, his gaze fell upon the chaotic diagrams scrawled across the floor, and he smiled bitterly.
'Now that I think about it... I somehow ended up training in the Bloody Tears Seven Forms again.'
During his days performing rites at Seo An Funeral Home, he had unintentionally gained several insights—
Specifically about his grandfather's saber technique, the Bloody Tears Seven Forms.
The reason the Bloody Tears Seven Forms could become the strongest saber technique—
Was neither due to its divine stances nor the Blade Essence that dealt with complete death and even brought its wielder into the realm of death.
It was because the Bloody Tears Seven Forms had been born from death itself.
'Grandfather must have created the Bloody Tears Seven Forms while mourning the dead and analyzing their causes of death.'
Unlike in his childhood—
Now that he was a martial artist, carefully performing the enshrouding rites again—
He could grasp the hidden principles of martial arts he had never noticed before. And the profound intricacies of the Bloody Tears Seven Forms became clearer than ever.
'Grandfather didn't simply crave death because life was painful.'
To kill an enemy, one must ultimately step into the realm of death themselves.
That was why Bu Eun-seol had always believed the Bloody Tears Seven Forms—
Could only be wielded by those who yearned for death, a saber art steeped in mortality.
But that interpretation was wrong.
Grandfather had not craved death.
Rather, like a Death God presiding over mortality—
He had mastered the realm of death itself.
'That's why I still can't properly execute the Bloody Tears Seven Forms.'
Bu Eun-seol had yet to reach that level.
But as he emptied his mind and performed the rites, he found himself—
Contemplating and internalizing the unknown meaning of death, that boundless realm, once more.
And because of that, his mastery of the Bloody Tears Seven Forms had deepened.
Now, he could execute it faster, more precisely, and more powerfully than before.
Clatter.
But then, the sound of a cart rolling in came from outside.
Stepping out—
He saw that this time, the cart was piled high with the corpses of patients who had died from illness.