Chapter 952
'Of course, the Chief Steward would never allow me into the Inner Courtyard.'
But there was no need to enter the Inner Courtyard in the first place.
All Bu Eun-seol wanted was to converse with the attendants and martial artists.
If he stayed here for two days under various pretexts? He could speak with quite a few attendants and martial artists.
'That greedy Chief Steward's patience will only last about two days.'
For the sake of winning the old man's favor, the Chief Steward would endure for two days.
But what if more time passed?
Eventually, he would grow impatient and resort to using drugs to obtain the Gathering Cloud Jade Essence.
Bu Eun-seol had to gather information about the Saint from the servants, attendants, and martial artists of Golden Wind Manor—all within those two days.
Three days later, under the pale moonlight of a deep midnight, a corpse was being carried out of Golden Wind Manor.
It was said to be the body of the old man who had secretly tried to sell the Gathering Cloud Jade Essence to the manor.
'How pitiful.'
Jeong Shim, a guard of Golden Wind Manor who knew the inside story, clicked his tongue as he watched the coffin being taken away.
The Demon Illusion's patience had lasted barely two days.
When the old man spent those two days merely eating and sleeping without excreting the Gathering Cloud Jade Essence,
he eventually resorted to using drugs to force its expulsion.
But something must have gone wrong with the drug—he complained of stomach pains throughout the night before finally breathing his last.
"In any case, he was a guest who came as the Chief Steward's visitor. See to it that his funeral is conducted quietly."
After imposing a gag order on the attendants and martial artists of the Outer Courtyard, the Demon Illusion cheerfully entrusted the funeral to the undertaker of the Bu Estate.
This way, he could secretly dig up the old man's grave and retrieve the Jade Pearl from the corpse.
Moreover, since the old man had died without so much as a whimper... he could obtain the treasure without spending a single coin.
The next day.
After asking the undertaker where the old man had been buried, the Demon Illusion immediately headed to the wild mountain and began digging up the grave.
Late at night, beneath the waning crescent moon.
When the Demon Illusion arrived at the old man's burial site, his eyes widened in shock.
"How could this happen?"
To his astonishment, the grave showed signs of disturbance, and the old man's corpse had vanished without a trace.
"Jeong Shim! You dare—!"
The only one who would dig up the old man's corpse to steal the Jade Pearl was Jeong Shim.
Rushing back to Golden Wind Manor in a single breath, he grilled the guard, Jeong Shim.
"How dare you secretly steal the Jade Pearl?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Was it not you who dug up that old man's grave?"
The Demon Illusion stretched out his hand with a solemn expression.
"Hand over the Jade Pearl at once."
Jeong Shim shook his head with a baffled expression.
"What nonsense is this? I was at the manor all day."
The Demon Illusion, momentarily dazed, seemed to realize something and pressed Jeong Shim again.
"Of course you wouldn't go yourself! You must have sent someone else to secretly steal it, didn't you?"
"How could I harbor such treacherous intentions?"
Jeong Shim wore an aggrieved expression.
"Ever since that old man arrived, you've had me under constant surveillance, haven't you? Have someone investigate it."
Given how genuinely wronged he looked, it didn't seem like a lie.
As the Demon Illusion stared at Jeong Shim's face, he gritted his teeth.
'It really doesn't seem like him.'
Anticipating something like this, he had kept Jeong Shim under strict surveillance.
'Then... could it be the attendants?'
The Demon Illusion interrogated every attendant from Yanghong Pavilion where the old man had stayed,
as well as the martial artists and servants who had spoken with him, combing through them like catching mice.
But he found nothing suspicious from any of them.
"Who the hell—!"
For four days, the Demon Illusion chased the whereabouts of the Jade Pearl without sleep, so frustrated and wronged he felt like he was losing his mind.
Just when he thought fortune had rolled in like a vine and his luck had turned... in an instant, it had all become nothing but a fleeting dream.
'He must be suffering like a madman.'
Bu Eun-seol, having slipped out of Golden Wind Manor, was swiftly executing his movement technique.
Fortunately, he had managed to converse extensively with the martial artists and attendants of Golden Wind Manor over those two days.
With mesmerizing eloquence and the various medicinal herbs he had brought beforehand to win their favor,
he had gathered numerous pieces of information from the attendants, servants, and martial artists of the Outer Courtyard.
"So it was connected to Azure Moon Tower."
Azure Moon Tower.
Like the Fleeting Moment Boat, it was a female-only sect, and a renowned clan that had produced masters of sound arts for generations.
They employed various sound techniques using different instruments, and their methods were not only profound
but also accompanied by unique vibrations,
making them impossible to defend against—no matter how deep and vast one's internal energy was.
In the past, the wife and grandson of Golden Wind Manor's lord, Deng Yao, had simultaneously fallen ill with a mysterious disease.
Deng Yao had been deeply acquainted with the mistress of Azure Moon Tower, and through her help, he had formed a connection with the Saint—a figure possessing mysterious powers.
"And in the end, they were able to cure the illness by receiving the Saint's treatment."
"Healed the child completely... they say."
The problem was that the grandmother ultimately passed away—only the child survived.
'Does that mean the Saint's ability only works on the young?'
Back in Sang-an Village, only the young had been completely healed, while the elderly had died.
And now, in the Golden Wind Manor, the grandmother died while the young grandson lived.
This could not possibly be a coincidence.
"One thing is certain—Azure Moon Tower knows about the Saint."
Azure Moon Tower had already been aware of the Saint's existence before he was known to the world.
They had introduced him to the Golden Wind Manor's master.
That meant Azure Moon Tower must either be closely connected to the Saint or, at the very least, know the location where he resides.
"But how to approach them..."
Bu Eun-seol let out a sigh.
Azure Moon Tower was a women's sect that rarely engaged with the outside world, strictly forbidding outsiders from entering.
Moreover, as a sect composed of masters of Sound Arts,
it was said to be secretly fortified with intricate battle formations and mechanisms utilizing sound.
But the biggest problem was this—
He wasn't trying to steal or take something physical from Azure Moon Tower.
He needed to extract the information inside their minds.
Yet he couldn't just barge in, torture them, or use the Soul-Seizing Art.
There was no obvious solution.
'Then, instead of infiltrating... I must make them come to me and willingly give up the information.'
Now that he knew Azure Moon Tower was connected to the Saint curing the plague,
he didn't necessarily need to infiltrate the sect itself.
He just needed the information they possessed—
the Saint's whereabouts. That was all.
'Good.'
A sharp glint flashed in Bu Eun-seol's eyes.
He was about to execute an unprecedented, extraordinarily bold plan.
Whoosh.
Upon entering Zhejiang, he scouted the Jiaxing Prefecture, where Azure Moon Tower was located, and traced the movements of key disciples.
In truth, this kind of work would have been far easier with the aid of an intelligence network.
But by the Demonic Heavenly Emperor's decree, he had to handle everything alone.
Thus, he was gathering every scrap of intel himself, step by step.
However, Azure Moon Tower was a women's sect that never revealed itself to the world,
so obtaining information on its disciples or tracking their movements was no simple task.
He was an assassin and intelligence operative considered the most skilled in the history of the Kill-Seeking Unit.
Though he couldn't use intelligence networks, he had access to virtually unlimited funds.
And so, by any means necessary, he could gather vast amounts of information at incredible speed.
Six days later—
He had completely mapped out the personal details and movement patterns of Azure Moon Tower's disciples,
despite their sect's reputation for absolute secrecy.
What would have taken an ordinary intelligence organization months, he accomplished in mere days.
'As expected, stealth infiltration is impossible.'
His investigation revealed that Azure Moon Tower possessed far greater combat power than the Murim world believed.
Moreover, they had implemented battle formations strikingly similar to the Three Clans' Absolute Boundary.
Even if Bu Eun-seol's martial arts were far more advanced than they were now,
infiltrating and extracting information from the women's minds would still be impossible.
'A tiger loses its strength when it leaves the mountain.'
His mind spun faster than light as he recalled the disciples' movements and Azure Moon Tower's operational methods.
'No matter how reclusive a sect is, it can't be entirely self-sufficient.'
No matter how mysterious,
they still needed to eat and procure supplies.
Meaning they couldn't completely sever ties with the secular world—they had to secretly visit Chengdu or marketplaces.
'Hmm.'
As he swiftly scanned the gathered intel on Azure Moon Tower's disciples once more,
his gaze stopped at the sketch of a woman whose appearance had been analyzed.
Her face was somewhat long, with prominent cheekbones and protruding teeth—a middle-aged woman.
His pupils flickered sharply as he meticulously read the details written beneath.
'There's no other way.'
Bu Eun-seol took a deep breath, staring into empty space.
He was about to execute a plan to extract information about the Saint
from the disciples' minds—without ever setting foot inside Azure Moon Tower.
Swoosh—
Rain began to fall along the street lined with teahouses.
As the downpour started, people scattered in an instant.
Before long, only the loud calls of a street vendor selling hot broth echoed through the empty path.
Plip-plop.
The pouring raindrops gradually lessened, turning into a fine drizzle.
Before he knew it, night had fallen, and an autumn breeze brushed softly past.
Under the silver glow of moonlight,
a man standing by a teahouse pillar, sheltering from the rain, looked up at the distant sky.
Though he possessed an unapproachable, lofty beauty that marked him as a peerless handsome man—
his eyes swirled with an inexplicable emptiness and loneliness.
As the rain ceased, as though struck by a sudden musical inspiration, he stretched out his long fingers and traced invisible shapes in the air before—
plucking the strings of the bowed fiddle he held with a delicate touch.
Kkiiing.
The melody from the man's bowed fiddle began to saturate the quiet night streets.
The notes resonating from his fingertips carried a sorrowful tenderness, as if heaven and earth were calling out to one another—
a grief that pierced the hearts of those who listened.
Kkiiing. Kkiiing.
Even the heavens seemed moved by the sound of the bowed fiddle, sending down a misty rain to heighten its melancholic beauty.
Sssaaa.
Just as the plaintive, lyrical tones of the strings spread endlessly through the sound of the rain—
Kkiiik.
—the window of the teahouse's second floor abruptly slid open.
And from within, women clad in blue robes leaned out one after another.
They were none other than the disciples of Azure Heaven Tower.
As followers of the Mystic Path, they abstained from indulgences like alcohol and adhered to strict training.
Yet, when they came to Chengdu, there was one thing they allowed themselves to enjoy—tea.
They drank tea constantly, even if they skipped meals, and whenever they visited Chengdu, they always sought out tea houses known for their fine brews.
Kkiiing. Kkiiiiing.
Gazing at the man playing the bowed fiddle, drenched in the rain with sorrowful eyes, they wore dazed expressions.
For them, whose lives consisted solely of chanting scriptures and refining their Internal Energy in cold meditation halls—
the tragic, ethereal aura of this peerless handsome man—
was enough to constrict their chests with an inexplicable heaviness just by looking at him.
"Cough."
Then, the face of the man playing the bowed fiddle gradually paled, and a crimson hue bloomed at the corner of his lips.
Abruptly stopping his performance, he pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to his mouth.
Drip, drip.
Dark blood seeped into the cloth, blossoming into vivid crimson flowers.
"Cough, cough."
With each cough, another bloody flower stained the handkerchief.
Staring blankly at the bloodied cloth, the man bit his lip, his expression one of profound sorrow.
Clench.
His fist tightened.
Under the moonlight, the stark contrast between his pallid face and the red blood made even this moment tragically beautiful.
Plink, plink.
By then, even the misty rain had begun to fade.
As the rain stopped, the man staggered with a pained groan, dragging his feet as if struggling to move.
He managed a few unsteady steps before—
Thud.
—he collapsed face-first onto the street.
Murmur, murmur.
The unconscious man gradually stirred awake as lively chatter reached his ears.
When his eyes fluttered open, he saw a wooden ceiling above him.
Sensing something amiss, he glanced down—
only to find himself lying on a wide bed, thick blankets draped over him.
"Ugh..."
With a low groan, he slowly sat up and scanned his surroundings—only to lock eyes with five women staring intently at him from a distance.
They were none other than Mak Hwa-wol, the head of Seungmyeong Hall in Azure Moon Tower, and her disciples.
"Where...?"
As the man clutched his forehead and surveyed the room, Mak Hwa-wol spoke in a quiet voice.
"This is our temporary residence."
Azure Moon Tower was located deep in the mountains, far from Chengdu.
Whenever they ventured outside, they had numerous errands to run and supplies to procure.
However, staying at crowded guest inns was inconvenient for a group of women, and Azure Moon Tower's disciples avoided unnecessary contact with outsiders as a rule.
Thus, Azure Moon Tower had purchased a private residence near Chengdu and stationed a caretaker there.
Whenever they descended to the city—
the disciples stayed at this temporary lodging while attending to their affairs.
"Our disciples found you collapsed outside and brought you here."
In truth, it had been Mak Hwa-wol herself who had discovered and rescued the fallen man.
But when faced with his deep, wandering gaze, she couldn't bear the embarrassment and shifted the credit to her disciples.
"Thank you."
The man shook his head slightly before reaching for the bowed fiddle placed beside him.
But as he tried to rise, fresh blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"Young Master."
"I've made a spectacle of myself."
Wiping the blood away, the man cradled the bowed fiddle and bowed deeply.
"This kindness... I shall repay it in the next life."
"The next life...?"
Mak Hwa-wol's eyes widened.
What kind of grave illness had stricken this young man that he spoke of repaying her in another lifetime?
"Then—"
As the man swayed unsteadily, preparing to leave, Mak Hwa-wol called out.
"Young Master. Wait."
With a troubled expression, she asked him—
"Just what kind of illness has afflicted you to drive you to such despair?"
"It's nothing."
As the man turned to leave, Mak Hwa-wol spoke calmly.
"Tell me. It certainly won't do you any harm."
She averted her gaze slightly and lowered her voice.
"I am no ordinary woman. If I so wished, I could even cure your illness."
The women of Azure Moon Tower trained in the Sound Arts, and as a result, they cultivated their internal energy to profound depths, granting them extensive knowledge of the human body.
Moreover, Azure Moon Tower was renowned in the Martial World for producing the legendary elixir, the Gathered Marrow Blood Essence—their mastery of medical arts and pharmacology was anything but ordinary.
"It's useless."
The man shook his head.
"Even the Saintly Divine Hand, a physician of unparalleled skill, said I wouldn't last beyond this year."
"The Saintly Divine Hand?"
Mak Hwa-wol's eyes widened in shock.
The Saintly Divine Hand was considered the most miraculous healer of their time, a true master among physicians.
And yet, even he had been rendered helpless by this illness?
"Just what kind of disease is it?"
"He said it was something he had never seen before in his life. The functions of my liver and spleen have completely deteriorated, and stagnant blood has accumulated... Eventually, within less than a year, a boulder-like inflammation will form in my abdomen, and I will die."
Mak Hwa-wol bit her lip.
The way he described the pathology made it clear he had indeed consulted the Saintly Divine Hand.
If even such a divine healer had surrendered...
Then this beautiful man's name was already inscribed in the King of Hell's Ledger of Doom.
"In my next life, I will surely meet you and repay this kindness. Young Lady."
When the man called her Young Lady with those deep, soulful eyes, Mak Hwa-wol felt an uncontrollable surge of emotion burst forth in her heart.
She had never been considered charming.
Since childhood, she had dreamed of meeting a handsome man who roamed the Martial World, marrying him, and living happily—but reality was cruel.
Even when she happened upon a decent man, she would often avert her gaze, and never once had she met a man who looked at her with genuine fondness.
And yet, here before her stood a man—
Not just more handsome than any she had ever imagined in her dreams, but tens of thousands of times more beautiful.
Not only was this peerlessly elegant nobleman gazing at her with profound tenderness, but he was even addressing her affectionately as Young Lady?
It was enough to make her lose all sense of reason.
'Is it not too late after all?'
She had once hoped to leave Azure Moon Tower one day and build a happy family.
But as the years passed and she crossed the threshold of thirty, she had no choice but to gradually abandon that dream.
Yet now, this beautiful man was calling her Young Lady—
It made her feel as if she had become an eighteen-year-old girl again.
"Young Master."
Mak Hwa-wol spoke in a low voice, as if she had made up her mind.
"Stay a moment longer and speak with me."
Then, to the disciples watching her, she said:
"All of you, step outside for a while."
"Hall Leader—"
When the disciples murmured with concern, Mak Hwa-wol cut them off firmly.
"Now."
Reluctantly, the disciples bowed and exited. Once they were gone, she spoke again in a hushed tone.
"Young Master, if I were to tell you a way to cure your illness... what would you do for me in return?"
Hiding her slightly protruding teeth behind a shy smile, she posed the question. The man shook his head.
"A cure is impossible."
"That's why I said if—if I told you a way, what then?"
For a moment, the man wore a dazed expression before biting his lip and answering.
"If I could continue living... I would do anything for you, Young Lady."
"Anything?"
"Yes. If you wished for me to serve you for life, I would serve. If you wanted me as a servant, I would become one."
Mak Hwa-wol's small eyes widened.
She hadn't expected him to answer so readily.
"Good."
She nodded as if she had resolved something.
"Can you keep that promise?"
"Of course."
"Don't answer so lightly. If you break your word—"
Mak Hwa-wol's voice turned icy, dripping with menace.
"I will kill you with my own hands."
The man shook his head indifferently.
"This body is already doomed to a miserable death by illness anyway."
Then he stared straight into Mak Hwa-wol's eyes.
"If I were to die by your hand instead, that wouldn't be so bad either."
At those sweet words, Mak Hwa-wol barely suppressed the dizzying, euphoric expression threatening to overtake her face.
'All this time I've lived alone... it was all preparation to meet this beautiful man.'
Suppressing her pounding heart, she spoke calmly.
"I am Mak Hwa-wol, Hall Leader of Seungmyeong Hall in Azure Moon Tower. And you, Young Master?"
At that moment, his eyes burned like the blazing sun—intense and radiant.
His journey to find the Saint was over.
A woman from a mysterious sect hidden from the Martial World had revealed her position and name to him.
That meant she was ready to unveil all her secrets.
There was no more need for investigation or wandering.
But just as quickly, the man—no, Bu Eun-seol—concealed the fire in his gaze and the emotions behind it.
With an expression of endless sorrow, he answered:
"I am Ye Cheong-rin, from Yeonpyeongbu."