Chapter 964
As his mind grew turbulent,
the shimmering light in Bu Eun-seol's pupils settled low like iron filings.
"Does 'the Great One' refer to the True Demon?"
At Bu Eun-seol's question, the Iron Elephant King replied in a low voice,
"That's what they call him in the Central Plains, I hear."
"Have the other Eight Overlords of India, besides Dokjon, also submitted to him?"
"That, I do not know. However..."
The Iron Elephant King added,
"I did not submit to him—I merely entered into cooperation."
"What difference does that make?"
Bu Eun-seol's lips curled into a sneer, and the Iron Elephant King twitched his thick brows before speaking.
"It was only because he revealed to me this place—the Ten-Thousand-Year Qi Condensation Ground—where one can reach the Eighth Layer of the Eight Elephant Art that I chose to follow him."
With a solemn expression, he declared majestically,
"I once aspired to ascend to the Great Perfection Realm, overthrow even him, and dominate the world."
It was an absurd ambition, born from not truly understanding what kind of existence the True Demon was.
Bu Eun-seol, having brushed off the Iron Elephant King's bravado, furrowed his brow in thought.
In the end, whether it was the Iron Elephant King or someone like Dokjon, the reason they followed the True Demon was solely for the immense benefits he provided.
'Their methods are eerily similar to the Three Realms.'
The hidden masterminds and powerhouses of Murim typically forced submission through sheer strength or by exploiting weaknesses.
But the Three Realms were different.
They always used what their targets desired most as bait, manipulating them like puppets.
This method not only made it easy to bribe people regardless of status but was also far more effective than simple intimidation or brute force.
And the True Demon had chosen the same approach.
"Have you met the True Demon in person?"
The Iron Elephant King shook his head.
"Someone claiming to represent his will came. He seemed absent-minded, but... he was an extraordinary master, completely impervious to the Eight Elephant Art."
'The Saint.'
The True Demon had sent the Saint to sway the Iron Elephant King.
"Regardless... I now stand before the Great Perfection Realm of the Eight Elephant Art, a stage no one has reached in thousands of years."
The Iron Elephant King stared directly into Bu Eun-seol's eyes.
"In three hundred days, I will be the first to attain that realm."
A gleam flickered in his eyes, and the elephant-shaped energy radiating from his body grew even denser.
Madness and obsession with the Martial Way—
these were the driving forces that had elevated the Iron Elephant King to the seat of the Eight Overlords of India.
'To save the Four Sacred Tribes, I'd have to kill him and every last one of the Iron Elephant Sect's disciples.'
Bu Eun-seol couldn't care less whether the Iron Elephant King reached the Great Perfection Realm or became an immortal.
His only concern was whether massacring the Ten Great Generals and ninety thousand disciples was truly the right thing to do to save the Four Sacred Tribes.
'From what I've heard, it's highly likely most of the Eight Overlords of India obey the True Demon's commands.'
If so, they would need a shield to protect the Four Sacred Tribes until they regained their strength.
After a long deliberation, Bu Eun-seol finally nodded.
He had concluded that keeping the Iron Elephant King alive would be far more advantageous than killing him.
"Once you complete the Eight Elephant Art in three hundred days, come to me quietly."
"You mean it?"
"On one condition."
"Speak."
"Send your men down this road immediately to aid in the Four Sacred Tribes' recovery and compensate them for their losses."
Deep wrinkles formed on the Iron Elephant King's brow.
Helping the Four Sacred Tribes recover and compensating them after attacking them?
It would be no different from groveling in apology—a severe blow to his dignity as the ruler of Nashik City.
"Fine."
But as if he had made up his mind, the Iron Elephant King let out a dark chuckle.
"I'll see it done at once."
After all, once he mastered the Eight Elephant Art in three hundred days, he could just kill Bu Eun-seol, renege on his promise, and crush the Four Sacred Tribes anyway.
He even went so far as to offer this:
"If you want it in writing with my seal, I'll draft the document."
Bu Eun-seol, who had been staring fixedly at the Iron Elephant King's chest, shook his head.
"I think there's something better."
Shwak!
As he stretched out his left hand, a small black iron elephant statue shot out from the Iron Elephant King's robes and landed in Bu Eun-seol's grasp.
It was none other than the Iron Elephant Sect's sacred artifact—the Steel Tusk Heavenly Elephant.
"I'll be holding onto this until then."
The Iron Elephant King's eyes widened in shock.
With a mere flick of his hand, Bu Eun-seol had instantly seized the sacred relic from his person?
This was irrefutable proof that his internal energy had already reached the Realm of Entering Divinity, making resistance through sheer power impossible,
and that his mastery of martial arts was several levels above the Iron Elephant King's own.
"Give it back! That sacred relic has been passed down through generations of our sect!"
But now was not the time to dwell on the gap in their martial prowess.
Having a sect's sacred artifact stolen was tantamount to having one's pride and dignity utterly trampled upon.
This humiliation was worse than having his life taken.
"I'll keep my promise, so return the sacred artifact."
The Iron Elephant King wore an expression of desperate sincerity.
A sect's sacred relic was the very embodiment of its pride.
Moreover, in India, such treasures were regarded with particular reverence.
There had even been times in the past when, if someone stole a sacred relic, they would be acknowledged as the sect leader so long as they possessed it.
"Don't worry."
Bu Eun-seol replied with an unhurried expression.
"Come find me in three hundred days, and I'll return it."
'If his obsession with martial arts is genuine, he should be able to endure this disgrace.'
The Iron Elephant King lowered his head.
Should he endure this humiliation for the sake of completing the Eight Elephant Art?
Or should he preserve his pride as a martial artist and perish in a blaze of glory?
He stood at the crossroads of that choice.
"Your answer is slow."
As Bu Eun-seol exerted force on the Steel Tusk Heavenly Elephant, a sharp crack echoed.
"Fine. Take it."
Though he gave his answer—
The Iron Elephant King's gaze burned with enough fury to melt steel, his seething hostility scorching the very air around him.
The surrounding atmosphere evaporated under the heat of his rage.
"But in three hundred days."
The Iron Elephant King spoke with an expression suffocated by suffocating killing intent.
"I will take your head and reclaim our sacred relic without fail."
Bu Eun-seol tucked the Steel Tusk Heavenly Elephant into his robes with the same leisurely expression.
"Looking forward to it."
Then he smiled.
It was an eerie smile, as though it foretold the end of the world.
Meeting his gaze felt as though chaotic darkness might sweep in, tear down the boundaries of reality, and summon nightmares.
The Iron Elephant King's expression abruptly stiffened.
Even if he perfected the Eight Elephant Art to the realm of Great Perfection—a realm no one in history had ever reached—he had the ominous feeling that he might still be unable to defeat this man.
Clench.
The Iron Elephant King tightly clenched his fist.
If he let him leave like this, the sense of defeat under that overwhelming aura would be branded deep into his spirit like a fiery mark.
Then, even if he perfected the Eight Elephant Art, he would never dare to face him.
'I've already lost the contest of spirit.'
He could see the terrifying madness lurking deep within Bu Eun-seol, beneath that endlessly cold exterior.
Against such a man, recovering one's spirit once it had been broken was extremely difficult.
'In that case.'
Having made up his mind, the Iron Elephant King addressed Bu Eun-seol, who had turned away.
"Are you planning to go to the Poison Venerable?"
As Bu Eun-seol looked back, the Iron Elephant King twisted the corner of his mouth upward.
"Blood will be the key. He worships blood."
"Blood?"
Instead of replying, the Iron Elephant King suddenly drew up the internal power throughout his body.
His face contorted as though he were trying to spit out something lodged in his throat.
Then, the next moment, he struck his left shoulder hard with his right hand!
Bang!
Fresh blood sprayed out, and his left arm fell limply to the floor.
Hissss.
But the flesh and blood of the fallen arm vanished in an instant, as though evaporating, leaving only bare bones.
'A restriction?'
Bu Eun-seol immediately understood.
The Iron Elephant King was under a restriction that prevented him from revealing certain information that could affect the True Demon.
He had sacrificed his own arm to temporarily defy that restriction through the power of the Eight Elephant Art.
And this was no simple act of goodwill.
It was a means of turning the fear that had almost been branded deep into his spirit into a debt.
'By putting me in his debt, he has restored his broken spirit.'
A flicker of surprise crossed Bu Eun-seol's eyes as he recognized the intent.
Indeed, the Iron Elephant King's expression, so rigid moments ago, now looked much more relaxed.
"I shall eagerly await it."
Bu Eun-seol smiled faintly.
He sensed that the Iron Elephant King would use today as a stepping stone and return to face him as a truly formidable opponent.
"Our next duel."
His expression turning cold once more, he left the cavern without delay.
* * *
The people of the Four Sacred Tribes gathered before the entrance to Samana Valley could not comprehend the sight before them.
These were the Iron Elephant King's warriors, who had been trying to slaughter them and seize their sacred relics just days earlier.
Yet now they had suddenly brought workers to rebuild the ruined village.
As if that were not enough, they had piled enormous quantities of gold, silver, and jewels at the entrance as compensation for the horrific massacre, then departed.
—What in the world is happening?
The Iron Elephant King was a cold-blooded man who had never shown mercy even to his own warriors, and helping others was utterly unlike him.
—Even if the Wind Cloud Prince killed the Iron Elephant King, his subordinates would never do something like this.
The Iron Elephant Sect had the Ten Elephant Generals, terrifying masters comparable to Sang Do-gang-cheon.
They were ruthless beings who worshipped only the Iron Elephant King with blind devotion, treating all other humans like insignificant insects.
Even if the Iron Elephant King had died, they would have slaughtered the remaining Four Sacred Tribes rather than show such benevolence.
—What kind of ghostly trick is this?
The people of the Four Sacred Tribes stared at the piles of gold and silver left behind by the departed Iron Elephant Sect warriors, their expressions like those of people waking from a disturbing dream.
KRA-BOOM!
Just then, a flash of five-colored clouds streaked across the distant sky, and a tall, imposing figure landed gracefully on the ground.
It was a man wearing the attire of the Vayura Tribe—a hat that rose sharply upward, softly framing his head, with feathers and ornaments adorning his entire body.
It was Bu Eun-seol.
"Young Master!"
From afar, A-wan came rushing over in a fluster.
In the meantime, her face had grown somewhat gaunt—
Because she had refused to eat or drink, staring endlessly at the sky until Bu Eun-seol returned.
"Wind Cloud Prince!"
Following her, the chieftains and key figures of the Four Sacred Tribes—including Anan-geuk—swarmed forward, numbering over forty.
"What in the world happened?"
As Anan-geuk approached and asked, Bu Eun-seol calmly opened his mouth.
"As it turns out, even if I had killed the Iron Elephant King, the other Eight Overlords of India could have invaded."
"What do you mean...?"
"It seems most of the Eight Overlords have been absorbed into the faction of evil."
Bu Eun-seol explained composedly.
"Therefore, I judged it better to spare him and use him as a shield, buying time for the Four Sacred Tribes to grow strong enough to defend against external threats on their own."
Then, he retrieved the Steel Tusk Heavenly Elephant from his robes and showed it to them.
"You will be safe for three hundred days. During that time, use the sacred artifact to strengthen your tribe and build powerful connections so that formidable enemies cannot easily invade."
After listening to Bu Eun-seol's explanation for a long while, Anan-geuk's eyes widened in realization.
He had known that the mission to confront the Iron Elephant King wasn't merely a display of brute force or drunken arrogance.
But to have planned so far ahead—considering the survival of the tribe and the distant future—was beyond his expectations.
"Thank you, Wind Cloud Prince."
"It seems I've done all I can here."
Bu Eun-seol gave Anan-geuk, A-wan, and the others a relieved smile.
"Then I shall take my leave now."
"Young Master!"
At that moment, A-wan urgently stepped forward.
"I have something to say."
"Speak."
"I will go to the Central Plains with you and serve you."
This shocking declaration stunned the surrounding tribespeople—especially those of the Yona Tribe.
The girl who was supposed to become their Saintess now wanted to serve the Wind Cloud Prince?
But the most surprised of all was Bu Eun-seol himself.
"Suddenly, what nonsense is this?"
A-wan, as if firmly resolved, spoke in a clear voice.
"I will follow and serve you for the rest of my life."
Seeing her flushed cheeks, Bu Eun-seol finally grasped her meaning and shook his head.
"Are you not meant to be the Saintess of the Yona Tribe?"
"After this incident, we've decided to open the sacred artifact to all tribes. So now, someone else can take the role of Saintess."
A-wan's eyes burned with sincerity.
"Going through this ordeal made me realize—staying by your side for the rest of my life... is what I truly desire."
"It's just a fleeting impulse."
Bu Eun-seol calmly tried to dissuade her.
"Right now, because you're young, I may seem extraordinary to you."
"Young Master."
"But as you grow older and live your life, you'll realize this feeling was just a passing moment."
Instead, A-wan clasped her hands together with even greater fervor.
"Even if it's just an impulse, so be it. If I can't follow you to the Central Plains, I'd rather die."
Bu Eun-seol frantically searched for a reason to dissuade her.
"I must go to the Ajanta Caves now."
"Of course, I don't intend to be a burden. Go ahead—I'll wait for you."
"You're still just a foolish child. What exactly are you planning to wait for?"
"Will I be a child forever?"
A-wan refused to back down, speaking resolutely.
"Then I'll stay by your side in the Central Plains until I become an adult. That solves it, doesn't it?"
Her bold and audacious declaration left Bu Eun-seol momentarily speechless, stumbling over his words.
"I... can barely take care of myself."
"Then I'll take care of you."
"What?"
"I'm fluent in Chinese, I cook well, I'm good at housework, and I'm dexterous. I can even make a living as a seamstress."
"What nonsense are you spouting?"
But then, something unexpected happened.
As A-wan stubbornly insisted on going to the Central Plains, Anan-geuk suddenly knelt and pleaded—
"Wind Cloud Prince. Please lead our tribe as well."
"What do you mean, lead?"
"If the Young Master does not lead us, our tribe will ultimately face destruction."
"There is still time. Grow your strength and build your connections."
"It is not a matter of lacking time."
Anan-geuk wore an ashamed expression.
"In truth, I have committed one sin—I concealed the prophecy that the Wind Cloud Prince would become the leader who leads all Four Sacred Tribes."
"A leader?"
"Yes. But I did not believe it truly meant he would lead our tribe. Moreover, since the Young Master is from the Central Plains, I thought such a thing impossible."
Anan-geuk shook his head.
"Even so, I was certain that if we could just recover the sacred artifact, we could manage on our own."
He let out a deep sigh before continuing.
"But only now have I realized—even if we had three thousand days instead of three hundred... unless the Young Master leads us, our tribe will inevitably collapse."
The oracle's prophecies had all come true thus far.
No matter how much they strengthened themselves or repelled the Iron Elephant King's invasion, if the Wind Cloud Prince did not lead them, the prophecy of their tribe's destruction would still come to pass.
"In the past, our tribe ruled over India. But now, our power is feeble, and a new order of factions has formed."
Anan-geuk bowed his head.
"If the Wind Cloud Prince does not guide us, we will inevitably walk the path of ruin once more."
"I refuse."
At that moment, A-wan spoke up.
"I will follow you even if it kills me, Young Master."
Then Anan-geuk prostrated himself again.
"Wind Cloud Prince. Please do not abandon us."
With both sides kneeling and pleading, Bu Eun-seol's head throbbed as if splitting apart.
Wasn't this the very definition of saving someone only for them to demand you carry their burdens?
"My apologies."
As Bu Eun-seol turned to leave—
"If you abandon us, then cut off my head before you go!"
Anan-geuk suddenly drew a dagger and pressed it against his own throat.
Beside him, A-wan's eyes gleamed as she began rummaging through her clothes—no doubt searching for a dagger of her own.
Clang!
In that instant, a clear metallic sound rang out, and Anan-geuk's dagger crumbled into dust.
"A leader of a tribe, treating his own life so carelessly? What kind of example does that set for your people?"
At Bu Eun-seol's icy rebuke, Anan-geuk bowed his head as if collapsing forward.
"My deepest apologies. You speak the truth. Please, guide us properly, as you have just done."
Then, with desperate sincerity, he added:
"Do not abandon us, Wind Cloud Prince."
It was nothing short of leech-like persistence.
But it was also filled with genuine desperation.
"Hmm."
Bu Eun-seol exhaled deeply.
After the Iron Elephant Sect's attack, Anan-geuk—no, the entire Four Sacred Tribes—were plunged into chaos and fear.
If left in this state...
They would either make the wrong choices or, as the oracle foretold, inevitably march toward destruction.
'If it were Grandfather...'
After a long moment of contemplation, Bu Eun-seol recalled the benevolent face of his grandfather.
The answer came easily then.
'He would never turn away those in need.'
The Four Sacred Tribes were, after all, good people.
And his grandfather had never once refused a plea from those in dire straits.
'If Grandfather were still alive... the Eight Overlords of India wouldn't even dare lift their heads.'
"We beg of you, Wind Cloud Prince."
At that moment, Anan-geuk pressed his forehead fully against the ground in prostration.
Following his lead, the tribe's elders and even A-wan prostrated themselves before Bu Eun-seol.
'The people of India are... different.'
No matter how much they believed in prophecies or in Bu Eun-seol's abilities—
If this were the Central Plains martial world—
No sect would ever recklessly ask an outsider to lead them.
But the people of the Four Sacred Tribes—
Were entrusting the fate of their entire tribe to someone whose true identity they didn't even know.
"Rise."
Thinking Bu Eun-seol's words were a refusal, Anan-geuk remained prostrate.
"I will not rise until you grant—"
Whoosh.
At that moment, Anan-geuk and the forty-some tribesmen kneeling on the ground were lifted upright—effortlessly, as if by unseen hands.
Bu Eun-seol had exerted his Internal Energy to raise them all at once.
"T-This is...!"
Anan-geuk's mouth fell open as if he had seen a ghost.
He had witnessed Bu Eun-seol's martial prowess firsthand.
But given his youth, he had assumed his Internal Energy couldn't be that formidable.
Yet to lift over forty people without so much as lifting a finger—
How could someone so young cultivate such terrifying Internal Energy?
"Wind Cloud Prince... Just who—no, what is your true identity?"
Only now did Anan-geuk realize—Bu Eun-seol was not merely a martial arts prodigy.
He was no ordinary person.
"True identity, you say..."
Bu Eun-seol took a deep breath.
In the past, he would have reassured them by revealing his status as the Martial Soul Lord.
But the Demon Hall was something he would inevitably leave behind—and the Demonic Heavenly Emperor was, after all, his enemy.
Fortunately, he had another identity—one that was both genuine and unshakable.
And now, it was time to make that name widely known.
For the day when he would gather his forces and face the true powers of this world.
"I am the Martial Soul Society Leader."
Anan-geuk's eyes widened.
The Four Sacred Tribes were no ordinary clans—they kept their ears open not just to the affairs of India, but also to the rumors of the Central Plains.
The Martial Soul Society.
Word had it that in the Central Plains' martial world, where only orthodox factions had once held sway, a new alliance had emerged—one that stood between the orthodox and unorthodox.
At first, everyone had mocked them.
But before anyone realized it, they had grown explosively, becoming one of the three great pillars of the martial world alongside the Demon Hall and the Martial Alliance.
Yet, until now, the identity of the Society Leader had remained shrouded in mystery.
And now, this Wind Cloud Prince—so young—was claiming to be that very leader?
"...So the Wind Cloud Prince is the Martial Soul Society Leader."
Anan-geuk stroked his chin, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
Even with the Oracle's prophecy, he had harbored doubts—how could someone so young possibly protect them from the Eight Overlords of India and lead their tribes?
But if this was the Martial Soul Society—an alliance that had even absorbed dominators from Beyond the Frontier—then surely, they would be more than capable of shielding the Four Sacred Tribes and guiding them forward.
"That is unacceptable."
Just then, a middle-aged man beside Anan-geuk stepped forward—Je-ba-sa, chieftain of the Vimala Tribe.
"Our tribe has lived on this land for generations, putting down deep roots. How could we abandon our home just to save our own skins?"
"Is your pride worth more than your lives?"
As Anan-geuk and Je-ba-sa bickered, Bu Eun-seol shook his head.
"If you accept this Society Leader's proposal, you won't have to abandon your home."
Je-ba-sa's eyes widened at the unexpected words.
"Is... is that even possible?"
"Of course. But you will have to give up something else."
"Something else...?"
"You must discard the name of the Four Sacred Tribes."
Not just Je-ba-sa, but all the assembled tribesmen gaped in shock.
Discard the name of the Four Sacred Tribes?!
"Does that mean you intend to rebrand our tribes as the India Branch of the Martial Soul Society?"
Je-ba-sa shook his head firmly.
"That would only give the Eight Overlords of India a legitimate reason to attack us. They would claim that the ancient tribes of India have become mere puppets of the Central Plains' martial world."
"I have a plan."
"What kind of plan?"
Je-ba-sa pressed his lips together skeptically, but Bu Eun-seol changed the subject.
"The reason the Four Sacred Tribes have endured for generations is because of the white sandalwood native to this land, is it not?"
White sandalwood—known as the King of Trees or the King of Fragrance—was exorbitantly valuable, taking decades for its heartwood to fully mature.
And this Samana Valley, the ancestral home of the Four Sacred Tribes, was rich with it.
Bu Eun-seol stared straight at Je-ba-sa.
"The real reason you refuse to leave this land is because of this white sandalwood, isn't it?"
Je-ba-sa averted his gaze, unable to refute it.
The name Four Sacred Tribes meant little to him.
But the white sandalwood buried in this land—worth its weight in gold—was something they could never abandon.
"Then what do you propose we do?"
Je-ba-sa's voice was tight as Bu Eun-seol's eyes gleamed.
"The Four Sacred Tribes will become the great merchants of India—entering into trade with the Martial Soul Society."
"Merchants?"
"This land has ample white sandalwood, but your preservation methods are lacking. With the drying and aging techniques of the Central Plains, you could produce the finest quality sandalwood in existence."
His voice was calm, deliberate.
"Under the Iron Elephant King's protection, if you monopolize the production of the highest-grade white sandalwood, even the imperial household—along with countless nobles and merchants—will have no choice but to safeguard this land."
Then he smiled.
"Economically and politically, you will become an indispensable force."
The tribesmen listening wore dazed expressions, mouths slightly agape.
"But that is nothing more than a dream."
Je-ba-sa shook his head.
"Even if we were to mature and process the white sandalwood ourselves... the amount in Samana Valley isn't enough to trade with the merchant groups of the Central Plains."
"Don't worry about that."
Bu Eun-seol's voice was firm.
"I know of a place where there is hundreds of times more white sandalwood than here."
"Where?"
"While searching for A-wan and the sacred artifact, I happened to see it in the Dara-Mil Valley—the legendary Maya Forest."
At that moment, A-wan's expression turned strange.
The truth was, the forest of white sandalwood wasn't in Dara-Mil Valley—it was in the Fantasy Pond.
"Is there somewhere you wish to see? Since you've come to Nashik City, you must want to visit Dara-Mil Valley, right? They say the legendary Maya Forest is hidden there..."
That place—
It was what A-wan had chattered about when she first met Bu Eun-seol.
In fact, the two of them had never even gone to Maya Forest.
So why was he lying now?