Chapter 773
After that, Seomun Gyeong had returned to the Seomun Clan.
And since then, he had secluded himself, never showing his face to the world again.
'If that's the case...'
Could it be that after that day, Seomun Gyeong, twisted in his thoughts, had begun kidnapping young girls and committing cruel acts?
"That man, Seomun Gyeong."
U Gyeong looked at Wi Cheon-gyeong with a grave expression.
"It's an openly known fact within the clan that he has become a cripple."
"A cripple."
"Yes."
He continued in a low voice.
"However, the Family Head imposed a gag order, so it hasn't spread outside."
"Hmm."
"In my opinion, it seems Seomun Gyeong ultimately couldn't withstand the pressure and lost his mind."
"Have you searched for evidence?"
"My apologies. The Seomun Clan's boundary formations are formidable. Our unit members haven't yet completed their infiltration."
U Gyeong of the Death Soul Squad bowed his head as he spoke.
"It will likely take about ten days for the unit members to dismantle the formation, infiltrate, and gather evidence."
'Ten days.'
Wi Cheon-gyeong shook his head.
If the kidnappings had been going on for years, the methods for disposing of evidence would be well-honed by now.
If ten more days passed, not only would the child's life be at risk, but the chances of the evidence being completely erased would be high.
"Order the Death Soul Squad to halt their infiltration immediately."
Wi Cheon-gyeong spoke decisively.
"I will go myself."
"Commander of the Soul-Chasing Squad, you mean?"
U Gyeong, startled, immediately shook his head.
"If something goes wrong while you're there, the aftermath will be unmanageable. If you're discovered, even if Lord himself steps in, it will be impossible to contain."
The members of the Death Soul Squad all had flawless double identities.
Even if they were exposed, neither the Demon Hall nor Bu Eun-seol would suffer any repercussions.
But Wi Cheon-gyeong was different.
No matter how well he disguised himself or wore a mask, he wasn't an Information Warfare Unit member—he was an official commander of the Demon Hall.
If he were discovered, the problem would spiral out of control.
"We can't afford to delay."
Wi Cheon-gyeong cut him off firmly and stood up.
After a moment of hesitation, U Gyeong spoke.
"Then, in case of an emergency, I'll deploy all nearby unit members to the Seomun Clan."
"A place like the Seomun Clan won't have an ordinary intelligence network. If we gather the unit members carelessly, we risk being detected or arousing suspicion."
"Commander."
"The outcome would be the same either way. Even if I'm discovered, the Death Soul Squad can't wage an all-out war against the Seomun Clan."
Wi Cheon-gyeong shook his head.
"I'll handle it myself. Don't concern yourself with it."
With a slight shake of his head, a mask instantly covered his face.
Whoosh!
Before U Gyeong could even attempt to stop him, Wi Cheon-gyeong had already left the annex.
Shwoop!
Wi Cheon-gyeong unleashed his movement technique at full power.
'This isn't about some sense of justice.'
In truth, as a true demonic path practitioner, he had no such thing as a sense of justice.
He was, by nature, indifferent, never sparing a thought for the affairs of others.
Moreover, having lived constantly compared to the Heavenly Slaughter Unit Commander, he had grown increasingly cynical over time.
The only people he cared about were...
His fellow comrades in the Martial Root Squad—those in the same position as him.
With them, he no longer had to endure comparisons.
There were no complicated matters.
He believed it was enough to live recklessly with these ruffians, ramming through life without a care.
But ever since Bu Eun-seol, the Ten Demonic Heir from Langya Pavilion, had suddenly become the Martial Root Squad's commander...
His life had completely changed.
A hellish training regimen unlike anything before had begun.
He no longer cared about others' gazes.
No—he couldn't afford to care.
Because alongside the grueling training came endless trials and persecution.
Even from the Demonic Path Ten Gates, who should have been allies.
—What does it matter if we're demonic or orthodox?
Moreover, the Ten Demonic Heir from Langya Pavilion, now leading the Martial Root Squad, didn't consider himself part of the demonic path.
No, he didn't even see himself as part of the martial world at all.
Yet despite enduring every trial, he fought to survive, and in the process, he strove to ensure his subordinates weren't injured.
—Well, he's a decent person.
Even the unruly ruffians of the Martial Root Squad...
Before they knew it, they had become utterly captivated by the humanity of the Ten Demonic Heir from Langya Pavilion.
And Wi Cheon-gyeong himself had begun to change, becoming more human, learning what it meant to follow principles.
Not some deep bond—just principles.
The simple principles of living as a person.
The duties one must fulfill.
—Who cares about the divisions between orthodox and unorthodox?
Let's live like Lord, upholding principles. Just like humans. Like people.
Even after discovering Bu Eun-seol's double identity, the unit members remained unwavering in their loyalty.
As time passed...
Without realizing it, the scenery of the world he saw, the state of his heart—everything had changed.
Sunlight had pierced the dark, damp shadows of his emotions.
Before he knew it, he had become not a martial artist, but a complete human being.
'I just—'
Wi Cheon-gyeong, pushing his movement technique to its limits, bit his lip.
'—want to live like a proper human being.'
CRASH!SCREEEECH!
With an explosive burst of air, a hazy ribbon of mist formed in front of Wi Cheon-gyeong.
'So... stay safe!'
BOOM!
Before anyone could react, Wi Cheon-gyeong had already become a streak of light, slicing through the sky.
The Underground Prison reeked of a foul, rotting stench.
Somewhere, the sticky sound of dripping water echoed, and the damp humidity mixed with the pungent odor of mold assaulted the senses.
SCREEEAK.
A loud metallic screech rang out as the thick iron door groaned open.
Instantly, the air in the underground prison froze like ice.
Shiver. Shiver.
The young girls imprisoned inside flinched in terror.
They knew all too well—whenever someone entered this place,
hellish torture would follow.
"Hmm."
A massive shadow stepped through the iron door, pacing back and forth in front of the cells while peering inside.
Inside the prison, only a tiny lantern flickered, leaving most of the space swallowed by darkness.
"Hmm."
The shadow exhaled a low sigh as it peered through the bars.
Inside, nothing but young girls, all trembling in fear.
With every step the shadow took, the girls bowed their heads and shuddered.
Step. Step.
Before long, the shadow reached the final cell—and stopped.
There, a frail girl in tattered clothes trembled violently.
Her skin was deathly pale, and her large, elongated eyes stood out even in the dim light, making her features strikingly clear.
"You resemble him."
A crimson glow flickered in the shadow's eyes.
In this world, the only ones who resembled that bastard he wanted to tear apart were pretty little girls.
Unable to suppress his rage, he had committed these atrocities.
"Today, I'll take that one."
CLANK.
The locked cell door swung open.
The girl immediately dropped to her knees, clasping her hands together in desperate plea.
"My lord... please, spare me. I beg you."
"You're still alive, aren't you?"
The shadow bared his teeth in a grin.
"People don't die so easily. You can live even if your hands or feet are cut off. No—even if you lose everything, you can still survive just fine."
Shiver. Shiver.
The girl could only sob, her eyes unfocused with terror, unable to form a single word.
SCREEEAK.
Just then, the prison's entrance door creaked open, and a martial artist in yellow robes rushed in, dropping to his knees beside the shadow.
"An intruder has breached the premises."
"An intruder?"
"Yes. They broke through the Iron Grand Broken Bridge Maze Formation and immediately entered the fake prison. Judging by their movements... it's likely either a pursuer from the Government Office or a bounty hunter."
"Insects. Every year, they somehow manage to find their way in."
The shadow chuckled darkly before speaking in an icy tone.
"Activate the Nether Prison Formation and eliminate them."
Just as the shadow turned back toward the cell, the martial artist spoke again.
"It's already been activated."
"What?"
The martial artist bowed his head.
"Their skills are... extraordinary. Even after the outer court warriors trapped them with the Nether Prison Formation, they dealt with them all and is escaping the fake prison."
The shadow, who had been idly toying with the torture tools on the table, clicked his tongue in irritation.
"Useless fools. You mean to tell me you couldn't even handle a single intruder?"
THUD.
He flung the iron tongs aside and spoke sharply.
"Deploy the Layered Prison-Locking Formation—completely conceal this prison."
Then, he turned and strode toward the exit.
"Summon the Twelve Tyrant Dragons. I'll take command myself."
SPLAT!SLASH!
Blood sprayed endlessly.
Wi Cheon-gyeong, who had infiltrated the narrow underground cavern, was cutting down wave after wave of martial artists and hidden weapons.
A strange boundary formation had been laid inside, preventing him from fighting at full strength—
but he refused to retreat, meeting each assault head-on.
Thud. Thud.
Though he felled every attacker, reinforcements poured in without end.
Finally, realizing the onslaught was endless, Wi Cheon-gyeong lunged toward the exit—
only to find martial artists blocking his path, having set up multiple formation barriers to trap him.
'They set up a fake prison...'
The moment Wi Cheon-gyeong arrived at the Seomun Clan, he had immediately activated his Tracking Art, searching for traces of the kidnapped children.
Eventually, near the rear garden, he found signs of where the children had been dragged—
and after careful observation, he discovered the hidden Underground Prison.
But no matter how thoroughly he searched, the kidnapped girls were nowhere to be found.
Instead, the prison was littered with signs of brutal combat.
—Damn it.
Only then did Wi Cheon-gyeong realize the truth.
—It was an elaborate trap.
All this time, whether they were searching for the missing children or chasing the bounty—
Countless rogue martial artists must have infiltrated the Seomun Clan.
And they would have scoured every inch of the interior in search of definitive evidence.
The Seomun Clan had taken advantage of that, deliberately leaving behind traces of abduction in a fake prison—
a death trap designed to wipe out all pursuers.
After all, no evidence could be found,
and since they had trespassed into the Seomun Clan, one of the Eight Great Families of Murim, known for hoarding the most treasures—
even if they were killed on the spot, no one could protest.
Thus... the Seomun Clan had been erasing evidence and evading pursuit for a long time.
'Which means the Family Head or some of the inner circle knew about Seomun Gyeong's crimes and turned a blind eye.'
He had assumed it was merely Seomun Gyeong's personal deviation,
but now it was clear—the entire clan had systematically concealed the crimes using their collective power.
No matter how sharp Wi Cheon-gyeong's mind was, anticipating something like this was nearly impossible.
In the end, he too had infiltrated the fake prison and clashed with the Seomun Clan's masters lying in wait, sustaining severe injuries in the process.
'Not a chance.'
Wi Cheon-gyeong possessed the Lightness Body Art of the Ancient Secret Techniques, Profound Shadowless Movement, taught to him by Bu Eun-seol.
It maximized the hidden potential of Swift Shadowless—both its concealment and penetrating force—
and when executed at full power, it allowed the user to momentarily enter a state of Utter Emptiness,
a miraculous body art that could slip through even a sliver of space in an instant.
"Haaap!"
Wi Cheon-gyeong unleashed Profound Shadowless Movement at full strength.
The Seomun Clan's warriors tried desperately to restrain him, but—
Shuuk!
With the ability to pass through even the narrowest gap, he slipped past them in a single breath.
Kwaaang!
Finally breaking through the last line of defense, Wi Cheon-gyeong escaped the fake prison.
Chu-chu-chuk!
But as soon as he emerged, another hundred warriors surrounded him.
Strange lights pulsed from the ground across the entire rear garden where he stood—
likely a boundary formation already laid to block his retreat.
"Haa, huu."
Wi Cheon-gyeong gasped for breath.
He had already fought through two hundred masters and fifteen formations inside the fake prison.
Moreover, the Seomun warriors were all using formations that drained stamina and internal energy.
Though his movement techniques and internal energy surpassed those of typical new-generation masters,
he had yet to reach the Supreme Origin Realm like Bu Eun-seol, nor did he possess the martial prowess to single-handedly crush hundreds of troops like Yu Un-ryong or Myo Cheon-u.
Chwa-rak.
At that moment, the warriors parted ranks, and a sturdy old man stepped forward.
It was none other than the current head of the Seomun Clan—Seomun Gwang.
"You seem like a spawn of the Demonic Path."
Seomun Gwang frowned as he studied the masked Wi Cheon-gyeong.
"Why did you break into our clan?"
Wi Cheon-gyeong remained silent.
Speaking carelessly would only increase the likelihood of his identity being exposed.
Besides, since they had prepared a fake prison within the clan grounds, Seomun Gwang must already be aware of his son's evil deeds and was covering them up.
No conversation would change anything.
Chiik.
Wi Cheon-gyeong drew two daggers from his waist, gripping one in each hand.
Then, with a movement technique swift as Lightning Flash, he slashed at Seomun Gwang's throat from more than two hundred feet away.
Zzzing.
But like a bird with broken wings, Wi Cheon-gyeong abruptly dropped from midair.
A transparent barrier—akin to an Astral Energy Barrier—had unfolded around Seomun Gwang.
"A vicious bastard. Kill him."
At Seomun Gwang's command, the hundred warriors began circling, unleashing a bizarre force.
It was said in the martial world that the Seomun Clan's formations could not match the Jegal Clan's in intricacy.
But in terms of lethality—
they were considered a step above.
Because the Seomun Clan's formations were specialized solely in killing.
Flash! Flash!
Wi Cheon-gyeong left crimson afterimages in the air as he cut down the warriors charging at him.
But his attacks were slightly sluggish.
The strange energy of the formation pulsing from the ground was suppressing his internal power, delaying each strike by one beat.
The warriors seized that opening, trying to finish him off.
Whirr!
Even in this desperate situation, Wi Cheon-gyeong refused to yield, unleashing a whirlwind of movement techniques as he fought back.
Pat! Pat!
Before he knew it, his clothes were soaked red from wounds scattered across his body.
Yet he pressed on, relentless.
Watching this, Seomun Gwang let out a sigh.
"That young man has mastered an extraordinary Body-Locomotion Martial Art."
All martial artists trained in Light Body Art.
And among them, some were even called Great Travelers of Lightness.
But the masked man before him was displaying movement techniques so astonishing and profound that even the term Great Traveler fell short.
"It's not just speed—his movements embody the natural order of heaven itself."
As a master of formations, he could tell that Wi Cheon-gyeong's techniques had reached an incredibly high realm—
...he had instantly discerned that it contained the profound movements of celestial constellations.
"With skills like that, he can't possibly be some nameless junior. I must kill him quickly to avoid complications."
There was no way an expert of this caliber would infiltrate the Seomun Clan alone.
To leave no future trouble, he had to be eliminated without fail.
"Even if he were the Emperor's son, trespassing over our walls and being struck down would leave no room for questioning."
Seomun Gwang muttered under his breath before shouting loudly,
"Deploy the Blood of Ten Thousand Skies Formation!"
At his command, twelve martial artists clad in yellow robes descended around Wi Cheon-gyeong.
Judging by their presence, they were no ordinary fighters.
Zzzzing—
As they brandished their swords and chaotically formed their battle formation, Wi Cheon-gyeong felt an overwhelming pressure so intense it made him nauseous.
The Blood of Ten Thousand Skies Formation, an annihilating formation executed by twelve formation masters, had been unleashed.
Crack! Thud!
The moment the formation took effect, Wi Cheon-gyeong's body grew unbearably heavy, as if weighed down by a thousand tons.
As his movements slowed, the Seomun Clan's masters seized the opening, relentlessly bombarding him with lethal Palm Energy.
BOOM!
The combined Palm Energy of twelve masters struck Wi Cheon-gyeong's body in rapid succession.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
With each explosive impact, he finally coughed up blood and staggered back a dozen steps.
'Not a chance.'
Fwip!
Yet, as if his body were forged of steel, Wi Cheon-gyeong disregarded his injuries and resumed weaving through the formation, leaving afterimages in his wake.
"Guh—!"
"Agh—!"
He managed to cut down two of the martial artists, but—
BOOM!
Another blast of Palm Energy struck him, forcing him to halt his Movement Technique and drop to one knee.
"Got you."
Seomun Gwang smirked, though inwardly, he wiped sweat from his brow.
This young man's martial prowess was extraordinary—not only had he defeated the elite troops stationed in the false prison, but he had also beheaded two of the twelve disciples Seomun Gwang had personally trained before finally collapsing.
"I will have you dismembered, then demand compensation from those behind you."
There was no doubt that this masked man was backed by a formidable faction.
Seomun Gwang intended to silence him through murder, then extract payment for the losses inflicted upon his clan.
After all, the dead could not speak, and no evidence would remain.
"Farewell."
At Seomun Gwang's nod, the remaining ten masters gathered immense Palm Energy in their hands.
Whooosh—
A faint glow began to shimmer around their palms.
They knew Wi Cheon-gyeong was no ordinary master, so they left no openings—intent on ensuring his complete annihilation.
KWAANG!
But then, an explosion erupted from an unexpected direction.
A deafening crash echoed from the direction of the Seomun Clan's Great Gate, as if something had collapsed.
Whoosh—
Simultaneously, a martial artist clad in black martial uniform rushed toward Seomun Gwang.
"What is it?" Seomun Gwang demanded.
The martial artist answered urgently, "Another intruder has arrived."
THUD! THUD! THUD!
With earth-shaking footsteps, two enormous shadows forced their way into the area where Wi Cheon-gyeong was surrounded.
"What are those things?!"
The Seomun Clan's warriors tried to block them, but the two figures ignored all attacks, charging forward like cannonballs.
BOOM!
Finally, they shattered the Blood of Ten Thousand Skies Formation and stood beside Wi Cheon-gyeong.
Though masked, their fierce eyes and bristling beards were unmistakable.
It was Won Se-mun and Jo Nam-cheon.
"Why are you two—?" Wi Cheon-gyeong began.
Won Se-mun grinned. "If the drinking buddy disappears, who's gonna buy us booze?"
Jo Nam-cheon dusted himself off. "You were gone so long we asked U Gyeong. Said you came here."
Wi Cheon-gyeong couldn't hide his disbelief.
"You came here just because you heard I was here?"
"You were supposed to be back ages ago," Won Se-mun said, chuckling. "What choice did we have?"
As the two smirked, Wi Cheon-gyeong's gaze wavered.
'These idiots...'
They knew exactly why he had come to the Seomun Clan.
Yet they hadn't brought reinforcements—just the two of them.
Because if they had mobilized troops, it could have escalated into a full-scale war between the Demon Hall and the Seomun Clan.
Sensing Wi Cheon-gyeong was in danger, they had ordered the Death Soul Squad to stand down—then personally smashed through the gates to reach him.
"If you two are here, who's attending to him?" Wi Cheon-gyeong hissed, brow furrowed.
"There's no way out of this alive now."
Jo Nam-cheon and Won Se-mun snorted.
"He'll understand. Weren't we always... rootless bastards from the start?"
"Back then, we made a promise. When death comes... the three of us die together on the battlefield."
Wi Cheon-gyeong's eyes trembled like rippling water.
Even after becoming Bu Eun-seol's most trusted subordinates.
Even after gaining status beyond reproach.
The Rootless Squad was still the Rootless Squad.
Back when no one acknowledged their reckless selves, they had relied on each other to survive.
And now, for the sake of those who had endured those rough days alongside him—
They had staked their lives to come.
To die with Wi Cheon-gyeong.
On the same day, at the same hour.