Chapter 889
Bu Eun-seol, who had been staring at Yuk Jang-cheon, asked bluntly:
"Was that old man from the Baekri Clan?"
If he was from the Baekri Clan—
The clan that birthed the Three Realms, which dominated the world?
If they were the ones who had secretly taken root throughout the Martial World—
Then they would surely know.
Not only about the bloodstained case of Saha Manor.
But also about the murderer who killed his grandfather. Or about his grandfather's blood relatives.
"I don't know either."
But Yuk Jang-cheon shook his head.
"He only said that he helped me on the day I was becoming the Killing Ghost, on my way back to the clan."
"The clan..."
"Even after casting aside what remained of my life... in the end, it all concludes in defeat. It seems my time to leave has come now."
Yuk Jang-cheon, who had been muttering quietly, shook his head once more and rose to his feet.
"No, not yet."
As he stood, his skin cracked apart like parched earth.
Yet he straightened his back and reassumed his stance.
"I cannot die yet!"
With that declaration, Yuk Jang-cheon unleashed his palm technique once more.
One he had not used until now.
One he had forgotten somewhere along the way.
The Six Harmonies Palm Art—the foundation of the All-Under-Heaven Palm Art, the root of his own martial path, the very technique that had allowed him to earn the epithet of Palm King.
The technique he had wielded when he first stepped into the Martial World, dreaming of soaring ambition.
The technique with which he had fought countless formidable foes.
The technique he had desperately wielded in the throes of life and death.
Sssss—
At that moment, with the sound of flowing water—
The Absolute Boundary gradually faded, and the scenery of Mudan Fortress reappeared.
With Yuk Jang-cheon's life force completely drained after being struck by the sword qi of the Bloody Tears Seven Forms—tainted by the Demon-Sealing Fragment—
The Absolute Boundary had shattered completely.
The martial artists, who had been floundering in confusion, widened their eyes as they caught sight of Bu Eun-seol and Yuk Jang-cheon once more.
CRACK! WHOOSH!
Even as the Absolute Boundary collapsed, Yuk Jang-cheon paid it no mind and continued to unleash the Six Harmonies Palm Art without pause.
Though his internal power was nearly exhausted in the face of death—
The profound techniques, tempered through battles against powerful foes—
The culmination of a lifetime's insight poured forth without rest.
His meridians were already shattered into fragments, his life force severed to the point that the world around him blurred—
Yet, with the instincts of a martial artist and the experience of the Asura Battlefield he had fought through—
Yuk Jang-cheon ceaselessly unfolded his own palm art.
SWISH! SWISH!
Every time his hands traced arcs through the air, sharp yet profound palm techniques cascaded forth.
This was the Transcendent Palm Art—a technique that surpassed the limits of the Six Harmonies Palm Art, infused with his entire life's journey and insight.
BAM! BAM!
Bu Eun-seol attempted to swiftly dismantle the attacks with the Ink Soul Sword, but it was futile.
Was it because they contained his final insights?
Even though he perfectly dismantled and neutralized each technique, the relentless palm energy continued to strike him.
SZZT—
Bu Eun-seol retreated, raising his sword to the middle stance to defend against the incoming assault.
But Yuk Jang-cheon's energy was spent—he could no longer chain his attacks seamlessly, and his techniques slowed by half a beat.
SWOOSH—
Bu Eun-seol seized the opportunity, channeling his internal power to weave layers of sword qi around himself.
For Yuk Jang-cheon, who continued to attack unyieldingly even as his life faded—
As Seon-u Jin, hailed as the Sword King—
He intended to display the pinnacle of sword studies he could offer.
WHOOSH!
Though the timing of the attacks had slowed, Yuk Jang-cheon advanced undeterred, unfolding his palm art.
SHHHH—
Bu Eun-seol raised his sword to the high stance.
Then, closing his eyes, he unleashed his full power in a slash diagonally.
He had executed the Sword Laughs at Xuanyuan Form with all his might—a technique containing over a hundred and eighty variations.
FLASH!
A brilliant radiance, like starlight, enveloped the world in an instant.
And then—a silence as deep as death fell.
THUD.
Finally, Yuk Jang-cheon knelt.
The outcome had been decided from the start.
But to not disrupt his final struggle—
To allow his palm art, imbued with his martial soul, to unfold to the very end—
Bu Eun-seol had deliberately engaged in this exchange of techniques.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
All hundred and eighty variations poured into Yuk Jang-cheon's body, violently shaking his meridians apart.
But with his life force already fading, Yuk Jang-cheon felt neither pain nor suffering.
SPLURT! GUSH!
Crimson lines split across his body as fresh blood gushed forth.
"How futile."
Kneeling, Yuk Jang-cheon gazed at the sky with an expression of utmost bitterness.
"Everything..."
Even after devoting everything to revenge, he had still failed to defeat Seon-u Jin.
The emptiness and regret were beyond words.
"What a regretful life it has been."
Yuk Jang-cheon's eyes, holding onto the last vestiges of his fading vision, slowly closed.
Human life takes many forms.
And so too do its endings.
It is said that when faced with death, people become detached from all things.
But Yuk Jang-cheon, even in the face of death, could not help but feel endless regret.
Because he had never achieved a single one of his ambitions.
The Nine Heavens Society, which he had built with grand aspirations, had crumbled due to betrayal.
And his goal of ascending to the foremost seat among the Four Gods Seven Kings and reaching the Martial Extreme Realm—he had failed in that too.
When he was invited back to the Martial Alliance, he had resolved to become the next Alliance Leader without fail.
Yet in the end, he left in disgrace, fingers of scorn pointed at his back.
Bitterly determined, he encountered a mysterious old man—a fortuitous encounter that allowed him to cast off his sullied reputation. He had hoped to die leaving behind a brilliant name.
But not a single one of his ambitions had come to pass.
"Is this truly my end?"
Yuk Jang-cheon lifted his unfocused gaze toward Bu Eun-seol.
But his vision had nearly failed him entirely, leaving only a blurred world before his eyes.
"My wretched life..."
—Waaah!
Then, from all directions, a roar erupted.
And that roar reached Yuk Jang-cheon's ears with perfect clarity, even as his sight faded.
Even in the face of death.
Yuk Jang-cheon had refused to surrender, pouring everything he had into this final struggle, displaying the profound intricacies of his palm techniques without reservation until the very end.
Those peerless palm techniques, that all-out battle—
They were more than enough to set the hearts of the martial artists present ablaze.
That desperate, furious struggle moved them all, regardless of victory or defeat.
"I see..."
Listening to the resounding cheers, Yuk Jang-cheon smiled.
"Then my life... was not entirely in vain..."
With those final words, he left behind a peaceful smile.
He had given his all in pursuit of his ambitions until the very end.
Never once had his gaze strayed toward folly.
A life lived running forward with all his might.
Though he had ultimately failed to achieve his goals, he had poured everything into them without regret.
What more could there be to lament?
Whoosh. Thud.
As Yuk Jang-cheon's body collapsed,
a solemn atmosphere settled over Mudan Fortress.
Bu Eun-seol pressed his palms together and bowed deeply toward the fallen Palm King, who had breathed his last with a smile free of lingering regrets.
Whoosh—
And in response, every martial artist present also lowered their heads in solemn respect.
Though he had been defeated by a young Grandmaster,
the sight of a man who had given his all until the very end was worthy of reverence from all.
Yuk Jang-cheon's funeral was conducted with grandeur.
Though his later years had been marred by disgrace, forcing him to leave the Martial Alliance,
he had proven himself a true master of palm techniques, a legend of his era, living up to the title of Palm King until the end.
The Martial Alliance honored him with the rites befitting a supreme elder, and countless martial artists mourned the fall of a great star of the Murim.
His daughter, Yuk Cheong-a, had long been estranged from him—theirs could hardly be called a normal father-daughter relationship.
Yet when Yuk Jang-cheon died, she quietly presided over the funeral arrangements.
The Martial Alliance, regretful of losing someone of her wisdom and ability, urged her to return.
But she declined with grace, and once the funeral concluded, she vanished without a trace.
Having left the Alliance alongside her father,
none knew where she had gone or what she was doing now.
"Do you intend to leave this world now that you can no longer seek revenge?"
This battle had been one Yuk Jang-cheon himself had initiated.
Seon-u Jin had acknowledged his defeat from the start and had not wished to fight.
Moreover, it had been a perfectly fair duel, without a single flaw to exploit...
Leaving Yuk Cheong-a with no grounds for vengeance against Seon-u Jin.
Meanwhile, Bu Eun-seol, having concluded his battle with Yuk Jang-cheon, found himself lost in deep contemplation.
For he had finally grasped the true nature of the Bloody Tears Seven Forms—and the meaning behind the Demon-Sealing Fragments.
"The old man who granted Yuk Jang-cheon his power..."
The old man Yuk Jang-cheon had spoken of had said he was returning to his clan.
Though the martial world had countless clans,
there was only one whose members could bestow such power.
The Baekri Clan.
Because until now, no one else had ever possessed the ability—
not the power of the One Hundred and Eight Stars, nor any mystical Art of Spells—
to transform even the human form, creating an invincible existence.
Of course, it could have been someone from the Yangseol Family or the Jungson Clan.
But given how the Bloody Tears Seven Forms, unleashed through the Demon-Sealing Fragments, had shattered that power...
"It must be the Baekri Clan."
Bu Eun-seol's expression twisted in anguish.
If this deduction was correct,
then there was only one possible conclusion.
"Grandfather... used the power of the Demon-Sealing Fragments to slaughter the Baekri Clan."
The Bloody Tears Seven Forms—
it allowed the Demon-Sealing Fragments to be stored within the body in the form of True Qi.
And when unleashed, it emitted sword qi that rivaled the Grand Perfection of the Baekri Clan's power.
And with his grandfather's skill...?
He could have mercilessly slaughtered even the Divine Beings of the Baekri Clan with that power.
Whoosh—
Moving without thought, his movement technique carrying him as if drawn by some unseen force,
he arrived near the ruins where the Four Harmonies Hall once stood.
Staring blankly at the surroundings for a long moment, Bu Eun-seol finally shook his head.
"Just what was Grandfather trying to accomplish?"
Why had he slaughtered so many?
Why, despite achieving such terrifying martial prowess, had he spent his later years regretting his past, cleansing corpses?
"He completed the saber technique meant to fulfill the Absolute Demon Saber Project..."
According to the Buddha Venerable, the original purpose of the Absolute Demon Saber Project
was to bring an end to the conflict between the True Demon and the Baekri Clan.
If so, then it wasn't so strange that his grandfather had sought to cut down both sides using the Bloody Tears Seven Forms.
But why?
Was Grandfather the only one who could use the Bloody Tears Seven Forms?
The plan called the Absolute Demon Saber.
Just from the name alone, the Bloody Tears Seven Forms couldn't have been a saber technique Grandfather devised alone.
Why was it something only he could wield, with no one else able to inherit it?
Why had Grandfather embedded the Blade Essence of the Bloody Tears Seven Forms into the sword's hilt and then abandoned it on a remote island?
And who now possessed the part corresponding to the great saber's physical blade?
"And... what exactly am I?"
The facts he had uncovered so far were:
His father was Baekri Mu-ha, a descendant of the Baekri Clan.
His mother was Sa Ah, the Saintess of the True Demon Family.
But he still didn't know why his memories hadn't fully returned or what was sealed within his Brain Gate Acupoint.
"This is where I used to live."
As he surveyed the ruins where Saha Manor once stood, his chest ached in a way it hadn't before.
Not even a trace of the manor remained—only an endless, desolate sorrow lingered in the air.
"I thought roots no longer mattered."
He had no memories of his parents.
No, perhaps even the memories he did have weren't entirely real.
But now he knew.
That they were his parents.
That they had given birth to him here and raised him with love.
"Father. Mother."
The moment he called out to them for the first time in his life, tears surged uncontrollably.
He had never felt such aching longing before.
Yet just by uttering those words—
An unbearable, crushing grief overwhelmed him.
"I will uncover how the two of you perished and ensure the one who orchestrated that bloodbath is executed."
If the memories resurfacing in him now weren't fabricated—
Then his father and mother, weakened, had desperately evacuated him, pleading only for his survival.
Which meant something had gone wrong.
The situation had escalated beyond control.
Now that he had found his roots, only one vengeance remained.
Not only did he have to find the murderer who had brutally slain Grandfather and confirm the fate of his remaining blood kin—
But now, he also had to hunt down and execute those responsible for his parents' deaths.
"The answer... might lie within the endless conflict between the Baekri Clan and the True Demon."
According to Jade Scale Hall's leader, Un-jeong, Grandfather's blood kin had either become part of the Baekri Clan or the True Demon's bloodline.
And since his parents were also of the Baekri Clan and the True Demon's lineage...
In the end, he could never escape the shackles binding these two great factions.
"Baek-Elder Brother."
As he surveyed the ruins of Saha Manor, the memory of his first meeting with Baek Mu-seong here suddenly surfaced.
Back then, he had met him under the guise of Seon-u Jin, and they had formed an unhesitant camaraderie.
But now, they could no longer meet as Seon-u Jin.
"This is suffocating."
When frustration welled up like this, there was no better remedy than alcohol.
"Humans must have invented liquor... because they're creatures who feel agony even when standing still."
Muttering under his breath—
Whoosh!
He turned sharply and left for Chengdu to get a drink.
Yet not long after his departure—
Pururut.
A figure clad in white descended once more upon the ruins where Saha Manor had stood.
It was none other than the very person Bu Eun-seol had been longing for—
Baek Mu-seong.
Chwak.
The moment he arrived, he uncorked the glass bottle he carried and poured liquor onto the ground in offering.
He had been visiting these ruins periodically for a long time.
Truthfully, his memories of this place weren't intact.
But he knew that because of him, someone had been sacrificed.
And yet, the time he had spent here remained the most beautiful and happiest moments of his life.
As he looked around, he didn't see ruins—but the interior of a beautifully adorned manor.
—"You must protect them."
The memory of a dignified figure with stern eyes stroking his head resurfaced.
Every time he recalled that face, sweetness and bitterness rose in his chest simultaneously.
Gulp, gulp.
He began drinking the liquor he had brought.
Whenever his heart felt stifled—
Whenever unresolved emotions surged—
He always came here and drank.
Because that alone—
Kept the waves of wretched, sorrowful emotions from crossing the boundary in his heart.
Because all that surfaced then were those warm eyes gazing at him.
—"Don't you want to have everything?"
But all of it had shattered.
The one who had destroyed all his happiness—
The one who had ignited the hidden desires in his heart—
Was a man with the voice of a venomous viper.
—"The opportunity to achieve everything you've ever desired has arrived."
"Ugh..."
Baek Mu-seong clutched his head.
His once-divided personalities had merged into one.
So why did these memories continue to torment him?
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
But then—
A faint sound of displaced air echoed from afar, and before he knew it, a gray-clad figure materialized before him.
Baek Mu-seong was startled twice.
First, because even his razor-sharp extrasensory perception hadn't detected the figure's approach.
And second—
Because the shadow now standing before him was none other than the most infamous young grandmaster of the Demonic Path.
"Seems I've hooked a big one."
Baek Mu-seong let out a cold laugh.
"Never thought I'd run into the Head Leader of the Demonic Path here."
His voice brimmed with confidence.
No matter how formidable the Martial Soul Lord's martial prowess was, he was certain of victory.
At present, he had achieved terrifying progress, unrivaled by any.
He had risen to a level where he would absolutely never lose to anyone.
Clack.
As his hand rested on his sword hilt, a glint of killing intent flickered in his eyes.
Seeing Bu Eun-seol stride into this place without a word, he even felt as if his own sanctuary had been stolen.
"Golden Upright Divine Dragon, Baek Mu-seong."
Bu Eun-seol, too, was greatly startled.
Why has he come to Saha Manor as well?
Why does fate keep throwing us together like this?
Countless thoughts surged in his mind, but he forced himself to speak calmly.
"Unlike the rumors, you're quite short-tempered."
"And my sword is as quick as my temper."
Bu Eun-seol regarded him with an indifferent tone.
"I merely happened to pass by and found the desolate scenery here to my liking, so I brought some wine."
Suppressing the urge to acknowledge that he knew Baek Mu-seong, Bu Eun-seol extended the glass bottle with a deliberate, friendly motion.
"There will be plenty of other days to fight."
Then, he offered a smile devoid of malice.
"So... care for a drink?"
Had this been the past, he might not have shared wine with a figure of the Demonic Path—but he wouldn't have shown hostility either.
Yet now, for some reason, his mood had soured.
CRASH!
With a flick of his fingers, Baek Mu-seong shattered the wine bottle Bu Eun-seol had offered.
"Enough nonsense. Prepare yourself."
As Baek Mu-seong immediately turned hostile, Bu Eun-seol felt a pang of sorrow.
Was it because he had joined the Three Realms and undergone the Great Art?
Or was it the darkness that had settled in his heart after failing to win Gongson Dan-gyeong?
The spring-like smile of the past was gone—now, he was nothing but the Killing Star, drenched in blood.
"Must it come to this?"
At Bu Eun-seol's words—
BOOM!
Baek Mu-seong responded without hesitation, unleashing a surge of palm energy.
The Thousand-Hand Tathagata Palm.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Yet the technique he executed was not the palm art of the Buddhist Order.
Instead, it was thick with killing intent, its transformations intricate—almost like a technique of the Demonic Path.
Bu Eun-seol countered lightly with the Fist Demon Initial Manifestation.
CRACK!
Ever since receiving the complete Seven Forms of the Fist Demon from the Fist Adept, his fist techniques had ascended to an indescribable level.
Thus, with a single strike, he dispersed the dozens of palm shadows Baek Mu-seong had conjured.
"Impressive fist technique!"
Baek Mu-seong barked out the words as he poured forth a torrent of palm energy.
SWOOSH! CRACK!
Bringing his hands together and parting them repeatedly, he unleashed hundreds of palm shadows—each containing the profound mysteries of martial arts—straight at Bu Eun-seol.
BOOM!
Yet Bu Eun-seol remained expressionless, channeling fist energy to neutralize the onslaught.
'This man...'
Baek Mu-seong furrowed his brow.
Bu Eun-seol's gaze was hollow, focused solely on defense.
There was no will to fight.
In fact, it seemed as though he was preparing to flee the moment Baek Mu-seong unleashed a few more lethal techniques.
'If anything, it's him who defies the rumors.'
Baek Mu-seong's excitement waned.
The Martial Soul Lord, the young grandmaster of the Demonic Path, was known not only for his ruthless nature but also for never refusing a challenge.
Yet now, he seemed absent-minded, his movements devoid of strength.
"Hmph."
The blazing battle intent inside Baek Mu-seong flickered out like a dying flame.
"We'll end it here for today."
Whoosh.
In the end, Baek Mu-seong ceased his palm techniques.
"If we meet again elsewhere, you'd best be prepared."
Even he didn't fully understand why he was turning away so easily.
Yet, with a cold pivot, he turned his back.
Fwoosh.
The moment Baek Mu-seong vanished—
"Hah."
Bu Eun-seol swallowed a bitter sigh, his expression hollow.
Seeing Baek Mu-seong here in Saha Manor—not as Seon-u Jin, but as himself—had brought forth an inexplicable surge of grief and sorrow.
Had Baek Mu-seong continued his assault, he would have simply used his movement technique to escape.
Throb.
Suddenly, the Brain Gate Acupoint in him ached.
And abruptly, fragments of his childhood flashed before his eyes.
"Ugh."
He tried desperately to recall, but the memories refused to connect.
The harder he strained, the further they slipped away.
BANG!
Frustrated, he slammed his fist into the ground.
"What the hell do you want from me?!"
His roar, loud enough to shake the heavens, was steeped in anguish and regret.
If only I had no memories at all.
If only I could forget everything.
Yet fate seemed to mock him—
Repeating the cycle of granting only shattered fragments.
BOOM!
Overcome with suffocating frustration, Bu Eun-seol unleashed the Qi Ride to the Heavens, shooting into the sky in an instant.
CRACK!
Never before had he run without purpose.
But now, drowning in agony and an unbearable weight in his chest, he wandered aimlessly—
Like a wounded beast.
BOOM!
A ribbon of mist formed before him.
The sun, which had already set, rose again—and again—repeating four times over.
And as he ran without direction—
Snap.
Behind him came the sound of a breaking branch, followed by a shadow collapsing weakly down the mountainside.
Xiao Yao, who had pursued him with every ounce of strength, had finally faltered—
Like a bird with broken wings, plummeting to the ground.