Chapter 74
Ok Ho-bang's complexion changed.
In that instant, Heuk-pyo's words flashed through his mind.
—If you want to see the Wandering Drifters wiped off the map entirely, then by all means, go ahead!
"Bu Eun-seol... he's the Inheritor of Langya Pavilion?"
"That's right."
Then he really could annihilate the Wandering Drifters, couldn't he?
Every single master from Langya Pavilion was a Superlative Martial Expert.
Just a handful of them could sweep away even the most powerful sects without a trace.
And if one had provoked not just anyone, but a disciple of Langya Pavilion? Even an organization far greater than the Wandering Drifters would stand no chance.
"W-why would the Ten Demonic Heir of Langya Pavilion...?"
So shocked that thick beads of sweat formed on Ok Ho-bang's forehead.
"Why would a master from the Demonic Path Ten Gates, of all places, come all the way to the Wandering Drifters in Guizhou and participate in the Martial Refinement Tournament...?"
Muttering to himself, his eyes suddenly flew open.
"Could it be... Langya Pavilion has taken issue with the Wandering Drifters?"
Mu Sam-rang shook his head.
"Langya Pavilion generally doesn't involve itself in Murim affairs. Whether the Wandering Drifters dance or self-destruct, they wouldn't so much as bat an eye."
"Then there's no problem, is there?"
Ok Ho-bang spoke as if something had just occurred to him.
"If anything, since he's a disciple of Langya Pavilion, shouldn't you be fighting him instead?"
"That's not possible."
"And why is that?"
At Ok Ho-bang's question, Mu Sam-rang narrowed his eyes into crescents.
"Because he is my friend."
A bonfire crackled before a desolate abandoned temple.
Sizzle.
And around the fire, skewered meats dripped fat onto the flames as they roasted.
Heuk-pyo, who had been stealing glances at Bu Eun-seol, pouted.
"Seriously, with all the fine guest inns around, you insist on eating in a place like this?"
The nearby area was dotted with excellent guest inns staffed by skilled cooks.
It wasn't as if they were short on money either. Bu Eun-seol had spared no expense, hauling fine liquor and side dishes all the way here.
"Young Master."
"I told you to rest at the inn instead of following me."
"But I need to eat dinner too."
Heuk-pyo retorted sulkily.
"Providing food and lodging for hired mercenaries is the employer's responsibility. That's an unwritten law of Murim."
When Bu Eun-seol silently reached into his robes for a banknote, Heuk-pyo shook his head.
"Ah! Never mind. You've already bought so much—let's just eat this."
Bu Eun-seol had brought a large gourd flask filled with ten-year-old Kaoliang Liquor and enough roasted chicken to feed five grown men with leftovers.
"I didn't buy this to feed you."
"Then do you plan to eat all this by yourself, Young Master? That's just cruel!"
As Heuk-pyo prattled on, Bu Eun-seol closed his mouth, seemingly annoyed.
Yet the look in his silent eyes was strangely gentle. As if he were tracing a memory.
Crunch.
Just then, the sound of leaves rustling underfoot reached them. The light, brisk footsteps suggested a tall, broad-shouldered man with a long stride.
"Kept you waiting."
When Heuk-pyo turned his head, a masked man clad in a black wind-breaking robe stood imposingly before them.
His height easily surpassed six feet, with arms as long as an ape's. The glint in his eyes visible through the mask was reminiscent of a wild beast.
Why is he here?
Heuk-pyo nearly leapt out of his seat in shock.
The masked man who had appeared was none other than Mu Sam-rang—the one who had forfeited his match against Bu Eun-seol.
"Sit."
But Bu Eun-seol, as if he had been expecting him, gestured to the spot across from him.
Thud.
Mu Sam-rang sat without hesitation, and Heuk-pyo quietly scooted away.
The moment the man drew near, an invisible needle-like pain prickled across his entire body.
Up close, he's even more terrifyingly powerful.
"Here."
When Bu Eun-seol tossed the gourd flask, the masked man slowly unwound the cloth covering his face.
Whoosh.
For a moment, the surroundings seemed to brighten.
Surprisingly, Mu Sam-rang possessed features so refined they could rival a beauty's.
Gulp, gulp.
After downing the liquor for a while, Mu Sam-rang tossed the bottle back to Bu Eun-seol.
"Good liquor."
"Have you been well?"
"Hahaha."
Mu Sam-rang laughed as he spoke.
"Since when did you know?"
"After you said you'd forfeit."
"You recognized me just from that?"
Bu Eun-seol took a swig from the bottle and smirked.
"You can hide your face, but not your voice."
Bu Eun-seol's smile was unique.
Though it was just a faint curl of his lips, it was as if a frozen lake had thawed under the warmth of a spring breeze.
"How is Hell Blood Citadel?"
At Bu Eun-seol's question, Heuk-pyo, who had been crouching far away, flinched visibly.
'Mu Sam-rang is a master from the Hell Blood Citadel?'
"Nothing special. Just swallowing bizarre poisons and refining Poison Arts until your breath runs out—that's all there was to it."
Mu Sam-rang took another swig from the bottle and chuckled dryly.
"Honestly, the days when I fought back-to-back with you on Hell Island were far better."
Mu Sam-rang's true identity—
He was none other than Seo Jin-ha, who had once fought side by side with Bu Eun-seol on Hell Island.
A man whose innate talent for Poison Arts had earned him a place in Hell Blood Citadel—why had he appeared in the martial world under the alias Mu Sam-rang?
"Why...?"
"Probably because I perfected the Poison Body too quickly. The main sect already had two successors lined up."
As if anticipating Bu Eun-seol's question, Mu Sam-rang—no, Seo Jin-ha—answered plainly.
"Once my progress in the poison arts showed signs of surpassing theirs, the successor factions persuaded the Hell Castle Lord to send me to the Demon Hall. Officially, it was to 'gain the prestige befitting Hell Blood Citadel's Ten Demonic Heir'... but..."
Seo Jin-ha took another drink, his expression bitter.
"They were worried. If I kept outperforming them, the Hell Castle Lord might have named me his successor instead."
The Ten Demonic Heirs—prodigies of extraordinary talent.
Every one of them, after joining the Demonic Path Ten Gates, faced scrutiny and obstruction from the established successors.
"Not that it matters now. I've joined the Heavenly Killing Squad—I belong to the Demon Hall now."
Heavenly Killing Squad, Soul-Extinguishing Squad, Dark Heaven Squad.
These three units were not only the Demon Hall's elite but also wielded immense authority.
Merely joining one significantly increased the odds of rising to the Demon Hall's upper echelons.
"The Hell Castle Lord must have been considerate in his own way. Instead of keeping a once-in-a-generation talent like you, he sent you to the Demon Hall."
"Who knows? Maybe he just didn't want Hell Blood Citadel's carefully arranged succession plan to collapse."
Despite his words, warmth flickered in Seo Jin-ha's eyes and expression when he mentioned the Hell Castle Lord.
From Hell Blood Citadel's perspective, they were practically giving away a martial prodigy they had painstakingly raised.
Yet the Hell Castle Lord had willingly sent Seo Jin-ha away—and Seo Jin-ha, in turn, respected him for that consideration.
"By the way, seeing you like this makes me newly terrified of Langya Pavilion."
Seo Jin-ha changed the subject with a dry laugh.
"Just what did you do to grow this strong?"
He could sense the qi enveloping Bu Eun-seol's body—already surpassing his own.
"I simply put in the effort."
"Still, Langya Pavilion must suit you. The man who used to speak as sparingly as an ice block is now talking so freely."
"Did the Demon Hall send you here?"
At Bu Eun-seol's question, Seo Jin-ha took a deep breath.
"If you insist on tracing it back, yes. Hell Blood Citadel made a covert deal with the main force. I suppose you could say I was temporarily sold here."
"I see."
With just those words, Bu Eun-seol pieced everything together.
"No matter how profitable hosting the Martial Arts Tournament might be, handing a divine sword to a complete stranger isn't an easy decision."
Seo Jin-ha, who had been smiling bitterly, asked:
"Are you planning to advance to the finals?"
When Bu Eun-seol looked at him as if the question were obvious, Seo Jin-ha shook his head.
"Give up on the Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword. The tournament's winner has already been decided."
"'Decided'?"
"Guizhou has always been Hell Blood Citadel's territory. Do you really think that greedy Ok Ho-bang offered the Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword as the grand prize out of generosity? He was planning to hand it over to Hell Blood Citadel all along."
Seo Jin-ha downed another gulp of liquor.
"Your opponent in the finals—Yangmyeong—is the Hall Leader of the Hell Blood Citadel's Blood Ghost Society."
Wiping his mouth, he continued:
"And I'm here under the Vice Chief's orders to assist in retrieving the sword."
Even after hearing this shocking revelation, Bu Eun-seol's expression remained impassive.
Gazing at the distant sky, lost in thought, he finally spoke in a low voice:
"So you've disobeyed your superior's orders because of me."
"Hahaha. You've really changed. The cold-blooded, emotionless Bu Eun-seol is worried about me?"
Seo Jin-ha shrugged in mock surprise, then shook his head.
"I'll catch some flak, but there won't be punishment. A Heavenly Killing Squad member fighting a disciple of Langya Pavilion? That was never an option to begin with."
Tossing the bottle to Bu Eun-seol, Seo Jin-ha said:
"Just give up."
"Give up?"
"Divine swords aren't exactly rare in the martial world. No need to make an enemy of the Hell Blood Citadel over one blade."
Bu Eun-seol answered only by downing the liquor from the gourd flask in one gulp.
Bathed in moonlight, his features were beautiful yet chillingly indifferent.
Seo Jin-ha, watching Bu Eun-seol's profile, furrowed his brows.
"Think carefully. If you concede this matter, it'll be a chance to make both the Hell Blood Citadel and the Deputy Unit Leader owe you."
Yet Bu Eun-seol remained silent.
Truthfully, Seo Jin-ha already knew.
That Bu Eun-seol would never compromise. That he walked only his own path, wordlessly.
That he was, in every sense, a man of cold blood and no mercy.
"Fine. Who could ever break your stubbornness?"
If nothing else, the fact that Seo Jin-ha could say this much meant he could be considered Bu Eun-seol's friend.
To know that Bu Eun-seol's resolve could not be swayed—that was proof he truly understood him.
"May I say one more thing?"
Seo Jin-ha took a deep breath, then whispered something in a low voice.
CRASH! THUD.
The rosewood table shattered into dozens of pieces with a deafening explosion, scattering across the floor.
"Langya Pavilion?"
A sinister voice echoed through the dimly lit chamber.
Standing before the wreckage was a middle-aged man with a pallid complexion and long, slitted eyes—none other than Yang Myeong, the Poison Hand Flying Demon, Hall Leader of the Blood Ghost Faction of the Hell Blood Citadel.
"Bu Eun-seol—that man is Langya Pavilion's Ten Demonic Heir?"
Opposite Yang Myeong, a black-cloaked figure wearing a mask stood by the moonlit window. Seo Jin-ha.
"That's correct."
"Why would a Ten Demonic Heir participate in the Martial Refinement Tournament?"
"I wouldn't know."
"You wouldn't know?"
"Who could fathom the inner workings of Langya Pavilion?"
At Seo Jin-ha's leisurely reply, Yang Myeong's eyes narrowed sharply.
"Then why did you forfeit?"
"The Ten Demonic Heirs are disciples personally trained by the Demonic Path Ten Gates. I couldn't possibly fight them, could I?"
Seo Jin-ha continued answering as if discussing someone else's affairs, and killing intent began seeping from Yang Myeong's pupils.
"You must have been watching the tournament all this time. You should have known he was from Langya Pavilion. Why forfeit without consulting me?"
"At the time, I truly intended to fight."
Seo Jin-ha clicked his tongue.
"Even after I dealt with Seomun Gyeong, I thought I could take him on... but the moment I faced him on the martial stage, I realized it wouldn't work."
"Bullshit!"
Yang Myeong finally exploded.
"This mission was something I personally begged the Citadel Lord to entrust to me!"
Hall Leader Yang Myeong.
He was a man of great ambition, aspiring to one day become Hell Blood Citadel's Chief Commander. That was why he had volunteered for the retrieval of the Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword—a mission he didn't even need to take.
And yet, Seo Jin-ha—once a member of the Hell Blood Citadel—had acted recklessly without consulting him, nearly ruining everything!
"If you knew that bastard was Langya Pavilion's Ten Demonic Heir, you should have reported to me first!"
Yang Myeong's fury was justified.
Though the position of Hall Leader wasn't particularly high, he was still a member of the Hell Blood Citadel, one of the Demonic Path Ten Gates.
When Yang Myeong had entered the Martial Refinement Tournament, the martial world had scorned him.
—Isn't this just a rigged competition?!
A master from the Hell Blood Citadel, whose territory included Guizhou, participating in the Wandering Drifters' Martial Refinement Tournament?
It had seemed like a blatant attempt to claim the Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword outright.
Fortunately, rising talents like Bu Eun-seol and Seomun Gyeong had emerged, reigniting the tournament's excitement—but the cold glares directed at Yang Myeong had never ceased.
"According to the original plan, I was supposed to lose to the nameless master Mu Sam-rang and settle for second place!"
Yang Myeong gnashed his teeth before roaring again.
"But because of your reckless actions, even if I win now, it'll look disgraceful!"
"You?"
This time, Seo Jin-ha—arms crossed—flared with crimson rage in his eyes.
"Hall Leader Yang. Do you still see me as one of the Hell Blood Citadel's men?"
"What?"
"I belong to the Heavenly Killing Squad. I'm only assisting this mission under the Deputy Unit Leader's orders—I have no ties to Hell Blood Citadel whatsoever."
"Seo Jin-ha. Have you completely forgotten the grace of those who raised you?"
"Grace?"
A viscous emerald light oozed from Seo Jin-ha's eyes.
"The times you threw me into the Poison Pool to kill me, just to avoid disrupting the succession? Or when you sent assassins from the Seven Poison Hall after I still refused to die?"
When Yang Myeong said nothing, Seo Jin-ha scoffed and turned away.
"I left for the Heavenly Killing Squad under the Citadel Lord's orders. That severed all ties between me and Hell Blood Citadel."
Seo Jin-ha walked past Yang Myeong, heading slowly toward the door.
"I've forgotten both grace and grudges. So don't provoke me further."
SLAM.
As he exited the chamber, killing intent flickered in Yang Myeong's eyes.
"So be it."
In the darkness, Yang Myeong's eyes flashed as a faint mist began rising from his body.
Hssss...
Where the mist touched the shattered table fragments, they silently dissolved away.
A poison art truly beyond mortal comprehension.
"First, I'll kill Langya Pavilion's Wild Dog—then deal with you, Seo Jin-ha."