Chapter 88
Seoksong took a deep breath before surveying the assembled crowd and speaking in a low voice.
"That man was a demon."
A demon.
For certain types of people, it was a commonly used term.
Yet when Seoksong uttered those words, the stone chamber seemed to darken, and a peal of distant thunder rumbled through the air.
"He was originally the First Seat's disciple. But his talent was so extraordinary that eventually, every swordsman in the society—even the Society Leader himself—taught him."
Exhaling a heavy breath, he continued.
"Watching him rapidly absorb every aspect of Sword Studies, our society never doubted he would one day become the world's foremost martial artist. But..."
Seoksong gnashed his teeth as if forcing out something lodged in his throat.
"That demon was a spy planted to infiltrate our society. Worse yet, once he mastered every sword technique, he systematically slaughtered our masters one by one."
So this was the truth behind the Thousand Swords Society's downfall!
They hadn't deliberately operated in secrecy like the Divine Dragon Society—their internal masters had all been murdered, rendering them incapable of action.
"May I ask one thing?"
After a brief silence, the man wearing the Yellow Dragon mask spoke in a subdued voice.
"Are you saying that man truly single-handedly slaughtered the Society Leader and swordsmen of the Thousand Swords Society?"
"Indeed."
At Seoksong's confirmation, deathly silence once again filled the chamber.
Just witnessing a single display of Seoksong's Sword Studies earlier had been enough to gauge that his martial prowess had reached the pinnacle of the Murim world.
Could such a swordsman—capable of assassinating the masters and Society Leader of the Thousand Swords Society alone—truly exist in this world?
"The numbers don't add up."
At that moment, the Ox-masked man shook his head.
"How could one possibly deal with such a master alone?"
"That is precisely why our society is transmitting this sword technique."
Seoksong clenched his fist, grinding his teeth.
"To ensure he can be defeated!"
Only then did Bu Eun-seol grasp the full picture.
The Thousand Swords Society had devised a sword technique to kill their enemy but found no one capable of mastering it.
So they sought out prodigies innately filled with Killing Intent, imparting the technique to them as instruments of vengeance.
"Mastering an exceptional sword technique doesn't necessarily guarantee one could kill such a master, does it?"
In response to the Ox-masked man's question, Seoksong nodded.
"Of course not. But his sword technique possesses a fatal weakness."
"A weakness?"
"Having mastered an esoteric art like Yoga Art, his joints and muscles became excessively soft and flexible. While such a physique allows him to easily grasp even Advanced Sword Studies..."
At that moment, Bu Eun-seol's eyes behind the Rabbit mask burned crimson like hot coals.
"Yoga Art? Which Yoga Art are you referring to?"
Seoksong frowned at the abrupt question.
"I cannot say precisely. If not Indian Yoga Art, then perhaps the Central Plains' Soaring Bridge Yoga Art."
"His age? How old was he?"
Though puzzled by Bu Eun-seol's frantic questioning, Seoksong answered.
"He was in his late twenties at the time... so he'd be around forty now."
"His sword techniques? What kind did he use?"
"He employed the very techniques our society taught him. As if mocking us."
When Bu Eun-seol opened his mouth to ask another question, Seoksong raised a hand.
"Let us conclude the questions here."
Then, surveying the room, he asked:
"Can you swear to this?"
The Ox-masked man, who had been standing solemnly in contemplation, was the first to respond.
"I must decline."
"We shall not force you. Leave at once."
"Very well."
Clasping his hands, the Ox-masked man turned without hesitation and exited through the doorway.
Watching him depart, Seoksong drew a deep breath before speaking again.
"To those who remain, I ask once more: Will you swear to kill one man in exchange for inheriting this sword technique?"
"I too have a question."
The Yellow Dragon-masked man stepped forward.
"Does this so-called demon belong to the Righteous Faction?"
"That I cannot say. All I can confirm is that he infiltrated our society as a spy to gather intelligence."
At Seoksong's answer, the man in the yellow dragon mask nodded his head.
"Then it cannot be done."
The yellow dragon-masked man spoke bitterly.
"Though you both call him the Demon, I cannot know what circumstances lie within that name."
Without hesitation, he turned away.
"Even if every word you speak is true without an inch of falsehood—if he is a figure of the Righteous Faction, this one cannot kill him."
"I understand your meaning."
"Then I shall take my leave."
Bu Eun-seol's eyes flashed as he watched the imposing yellow dragon-masked man depart.
'He must be one of the Great Righteous Experts from the Mount Hua Sect.'
The qi of the yellow dragon-masked man was so vast it felt like gazing upon a mountain range—enough to make even Bu Eun-seol marvel.
Not only that, but the kicks he had demonstrated in the Second Hall bore an uncanny resemblance to the Great Peak Three Pure Leg Technique from the Thirty-Six Routes.
"If you cannot tell us whether this so-called Demon belongs to the Righteous Faction or the Demonic Path... very well."
Once the yellow dragon-masked man left, the man in the tiger mask spoke next.
"Then where is he? Can I kill him right now?"
Seoksong shook his head.
"Our Society is exhausting all efforts to track his whereabouts... but we have yet to find him. Even now, we are mobilizing every resource in relentless pursuit."
At that moment, the tiger-masked man also let out a sigh.
"Then it cannot be done."
He, too, shook his head.
"I have many matters to attend to in the days ahead. If I am suddenly called upon to kill someone at a crucial moment... that would be a difficult burden."
Judging by his speech, the tiger-masked man was not only middle-aged but likely held a position of considerable authority.
"That is understandable."
As Seoksong nodded, the tiger-masked man turned to Bu Eun-seol and Tang Gon.
"From what I saw earlier, the two of you are truly formidable. If we meet again in the Martial World, let us remove our masks and cross blades."
The tiger-masked man had an aggressive and boisterous personality.
"Then, it has been a pleasure."
After clasping his hands toward Seoksong and Uhak, the tiger-masked man finally took his leave.
Now, only two remained—Tang Gon and Bu Eun-seol.
"I must also decline."
The fox-masked Tang Gon shook his head.
"I still have unresolved affairs of my own. To entangle myself in another sect's grudges merely to learn a sword technique... that would be unwise."
At Tang Gon's refusal, Seoksong and Uhak's expressions darkened.
"Understood."
"Then."
Tang Gon clasped his hands together, gave Bu Eun-seol a light nod, and without hesitation, turned and departed.
"And you? Are you of the same mind?"
At Seoksong's question, Bu Eun-seol answered flatly:
"I will do it."
"You will? You swear to take the oath?"
"Yes."
The ease of his reply made Seoksong and Uhak exchange doubtful glances.
"Think carefully before answering again."
This time, Uhak stepped forward, speaking gravely.
"If you receive our sword technique and then break your vow, the Society will mobilize all its forces to eliminate you first."
He seemed to suspect Bu Eun-seol was making the oath lightly, intending only to learn the technique.
"Though our key figures have met their deaths, the Society's strength remains intact. Even if you were the sect leader of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang, you could not evade our snipers—"
"I know."
Bu Eun-seol cut him off, and Uhak raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean, you know?"
"To construct mechanisms and buildings of this scale on Mount Geumjeong... your financial power alone must rival that of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang or the Eight Great Families. No?"
Uhak gave a low nod, seemingly impressed by Bu Eun-seol's deduction.
"Precisely. That is why I urge caution. Your life hinges on this oath."
"I swear it."
Bu Eun-seol answered without hesitation.
"I will kill that butcher who slaughtered the swordsmen of the Thousand Swords Society with my own hands. But... not for the sake of the sword technique."
A long-forgotten realization dawned on him as he met Seoksong and Uhak's gazes.
"Because... that murderer may very well be the person I have been searching for."
Behind the rabbit mask, Bu Eun-seol's pupils flashed crimson.
A killing intent so fierce it seemed capable of tearing the heavens apart.
It was also the very quality Seoksong and Uhak had longed for, even in their dreams.
Uhak led Bu Eun-seol back to the vast clearing where the First Trial had taken place.
"Are you ready to learn the sword technique?"
At Seoksong's question, Bu Eun-seol nodded.
Seoksong and Uhak exchanged a glance, then simultaneously stamped their feet.
Rumble.
The sound of internal mechanisms activating echoed as a wall rose from the center of the clearing.
Bu Eun-seol's pupils dilated slightly as he watched.
The wall now emerging was nearly five times larger than the one he had seen earlier in the clearing.
Standing close to thirty feet in height, it resembled less a wall and more a massive cliff face.
'So this was the original painting.'
Only now did Bu Eun-seol realize what had felt off earlier.
The sword technique displayed against the tiger in the snowy mountain had merely been a fragment of the full mural painted on this enormous wall.
"Correct. The image you saw earlier was just a section cut from the edge of this wall."
Uhak wore an enigmatic smile, as if he had peered into Bu Eun-seol's thoughts.
"And this—this is the complete original."
Uhak, who had been studying Bu Eun-seol's face intently, revealed a dry smile.
"This mural was painted by the Society Leader himself."
"The Society Leader...?"
"Indeed. Completed fifteen years ago."
Bu Eun-seol, wearing a puzzled expression, looked up at the wall.
The mural-covered wall measured roughly sixty feet in width and nearly twenty feet in height—about the size of a two-story building's side.
"Hmm."
The mural was divided into four sections, each depicting battles between humans and beasts.
Beside the image of the woman and the tiger from the First Trial was a boy hurling stones at a diving hawk.
Next to that, an old man wielding a staff stood encircled by wolves. The final image showed a swordsman facing off against a grotesque, pitch-black beast.
'This is...'
The longer Bu Eun-seol stared, the more it felt as though his soul was being pulled into the mural.
Hidden throughout the four sections were strange geometric patterns and lines.
'Sword strokes.'
Bu Eun-seol quickly deduced that tracing those patterns and lines would form a single sword stroke.
As he visualized the hidden sword stroke in his mind, cold sweat trickled down his back.
'Flawless... sword strokes.'
The strokes depicted in the mural encompassed every possible variation and speed a longsword could execute.
Thus, they were impossible to block or evade—only to clash against head-on.
"You've already discerned the sword strokes, it seems."
Uhak, observing Bu Eun-seol's profile, nodded impassively.
"These strokes are the very ones the Society Leader imparted to that demon."
"You mean he taught him just one stance?"
"How could that be?"
Uhak's expression twisted in anguish at Bu Eun-seol's question.
"Not just the Society Leader—from the First Seat to the Tenth Seat... every single one of them passed down a sword stroke refined through Technique Purification."
In short, the murderer had been taught eleven distinct sword strokes—one from each of the Ten Seats and the Society Leader himself.
"The strokes in this mural contain Seamless as a Heavenly Robe—the technique the Society Leader passed down."
Seamless as a Heavenly Robe.
The name meant "without a single flaw"—and the sword strokes on the stone wall lived up to it perfectly.
"And the sword technique we will teach you is one that can counter even the most peerless strokes—ones that cannot be broken in a short time."
Bu Eun-seol frowned in confusion.
A sword technique was a sword technique—what did he mean by one that could counter "peerless strokes"?
As if answering his unspoken question, Uhak calmly continued.
"For example, had I demonstrated Seamless as a Heavenly Robe to you before showing you this mural—you would not have been able to fully block it."
Bu Eun-seol nodded.
The stance was too intricate to dismantle in a single breath.
Then, a frigid glint erupted in Uhak's eyes.
"But what if there were a method to defend against it—without breaking the stroke itself?"