The Bound White Tiger
Hagun's face twisted in disbelief.
"This is Hebei Province."
He closed his eyes and spread his sensory aura in every direction.
"The Demonic Cult should be in the Tianshan Mountains of Xinjiang…"
No matter how hard he focused, he could not sense a trace of demonic energy.
Yeong-hwa tilted his head.
"The Demonic Cult—is that the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult Senior Brother mentioned before?"
"That's right. A pack of lunatics."
"Aren't they the same as us? People?"
"They worship the rule of the strong."
"The rule of the strong?"
"The twisted idea that the strong have every right to devour the weak and take everything for themselves."
Hagun looked as though he hated even speaking the words.
"Yeong-hwa. Are you certain it was demonic energy?"
"I am. But if Senior Brother cannot feel it…"
"Then someone is interfering."
Hagun hoisted Yeong-hwa onto his back and strode out of the reception hall.
"I think it would be wise to send a carrier pigeon to the Beggars' Guild."
"If the Demonic Cult crossed Xinjiang all the way into Hebei, the Kunlun Sect couldn't possibly be unaware, could they?"
"That's true enough, but…"
An inexplicable, ominous premonition coiled tight around Hagun.
He unfolded the Cloud-Stepping Art and leapt onto the roof of the pavilion.
"I have a friend in the Beggars' Guild. Just in case, I'll send a letter and return."
Leaving Yeong-hwa on the rooftop, Hagun unfurled the tiger skin and vanished into the night with lightfoot skill.
Yeong-hwa plopped down on the tiles.
"Where am I even supposed to start looking?"
He focused his spiritual sight and swept his gaze across the Hebei Paeng Clan.
Normally, as with the Namgung Clan, the protective aura of a guardian divine beast should have been sharp and clear.
Yet within the Paeng Clan there lingered only a faint, frayed trace of the White Tiger God's presence.
"White Tiger God… why are you so angry?"
Yeong-hwa pressed his thumb against the edge of a blade. Blood welled at once.
With that blood he painted a formation toward the four directions.
Jingle— jingle— jingle— jingle—
He drew the silver bells from his waist and began to chant, shaking them in rhythm.
To the East, the Azure Emperor God…
To the South, the Crimson Emperor God…
To the West, the White Emperor God…
The bells, which had been moving smoothly, abruptly froze at the western formation.
"White Tiger God…"
The silent refusal left Yeong-hwa bewildered.
"You must speak to me!"
All that reached his ears was the White Tiger God's mournful cry—like a beast trapped somewhere, able only to roar, unable to answer.
Yeong-hwa propped his chin on his hand amid the formation and fell silent.
"Thinking alone won't give me an answer."
He dusted himself off and rose. His eyes were already fixed on the Paeng Clan's Hall of Ancestors.
"At times like this, nothing beats a proper gut."
Just then Hagun returned. Yeong-hwa waved cheerfully.
"Senior Brother! Time to beat the drum!"
Yeong-hwa's bright shout made Hagun's expression crumple spectacularly.
Hyeonsong and Paeng Un-ro were thoroughly drunk when they returned to the Hebei Paeng Clan.
Boom— do-boom— boom— do-boom— boom— do-boom—
The entire estate was wrapped in the desolate thunder of drums.
The main gates stood wide open; torches blazed in every direction.
Paeng Un-ro's face went pale with alarm.
"You have returned, Grand Patriarch."
Paeng Un-ro seized the warrior who had bowed and demanded urgently,
"Has some disaster befallen the clan?"
"No, my lord."
The warrior looked thoroughly confused.
"The Grand Patriarch ordered the shaman to hold a gut, so…"
"A gut?"
"Yes! Because of the Grand Patriarch's tiger skin, no one dared refuse."
Hyeonsong laid a calming hand on Paeng Un-ro's shoulder.
"It seems Yeong-hwa is performing a gut."
"What in the world is a gut?"
"It is the rite he uses when he summons the gods."
Hyeonsong slung an arm around the older man's shoulders and steered him forward.
"Come, Senior. You must see this for yourself!"
"W-well… all right."
Guided by Hyeonsong, Paeng Un-ro arrived before the Hall of Ancestors.
On the tiger-skin-covered floor, a freshly severed ox head rested upon the offering table. The table itself groaned under every kind of food, and before it stood a ritual straw-cutter blade.
"Senior Brother! This is a Spirit-Descent Gut!"
"I know, Yeong-hwa!"
The mournful drumbeat swelled into something majestic.
Clad in pure white mourning robes, Yeong-hwa stepped lightly forward in time with the drums.
Shhhk—
He snapped open his fan.
A plaintive sutra rose from his lips.
Yeong-hwa offered two full bows before the altar.
Jingle— jingle— jingle— jingle—
Fan and bells whirling madly, he advanced upon the ritual blade.
While the onlookers stared in horror, Yeong-hwa leapt and danced upon the naked steel.
His chant never faltered.
Heaven cold, earth warm—the way of father and mother.
Southern Watch, Northern Star—the way of lord and subject.
Eastern yang, western yin—the way of husband and wife.
Front and rear, left and right—the way of brothers…
"Khahk—!"
At the word "brothers," blood burst from Yeong-hwa's mouth.
He staggered on the blade and collapsed to the ground.
"Daoist Yeong-hwa!"
Paeng Un-ro started forward, but Hyeonsong held him back.
"Watch, Senior."
Thrash— thrash— thrash— thrash—
Yeong-hwa's body convulsed violently.
Then, slowly, he rose.
He thrust the fan into his sash and took up the five-direction flags instead.
He began to circle the ritual ground in a spinning dance.
Whoosh— whoosh— whoosh— whoosh— whoosh—
The flags flashed through his hands—until one of them stopped cold.
It was the white flag.
Yeong-hwa's gaze fixed on the man seated at the front of the spectators, wine cup in hand. A mad little laugh escaped him.
"Tiger father, dog sons…"
He threw his head back and laughed without restraint.
They were the second and third young masters of the Hebei Paeng Clan—Paeng Mu-jin and Paeng Hwi-ryeok.
Still failing to grasp the situation, they only stared in blank confusion.
"The stench of poison reeks from you. So you carry Tang blood from Sichuan…"
Amused, Yeong-hwa pointed the white flag at them.
The pure white cloth slowly stained itself crimson.
"Did your mother order you to do it?"
Paeng Mu-jin shot to his feet.
"You insolent brat! What nonsense is this?!"
"Why? Because the first wife of this house…"
Fwoooooosh—
The white flag that symbolized the White Tiger God burst into flame.
"…still cannot leave this world, and weeps behind you even now!"
Yeong-hwa's roar drove Paeng Mu-jin back a step.
Yeong-hwa flung the charred flag aside and seized his fan once more.
Shhhk—
The fan pointed unerringly at Paeng Mu-jin.
"It was you."
Paeng Mu-jin began to shake.
"Th-that… that is… that is…"
"Just because he was born of a different womb, did your elder brother no longer look like a brother to you?"
"I know nothing! I tell you I know nothing!"
From Yeong-hwa's mouth poured two voices at once—an unknown woman's and Paeng Mu-jin's own.
—First Mother, our maternal house has sent the Ten-Thousand-Poisons Bone-Dissolving Powder.
Yeong-hwa's eyes narrowed like a serpent's.
—You understand, do you not? The Tang Clan of Sichuan has never once failed at poison.
—Please… do not do this!
—First Mother, this is not of my own will…
—What is it you want?
Yeong-hwa beat his own chest and begged before Paeng Mu-jin.
—I will give up everything! If you tell me to leave the clan, I will leave!
—First Mother, Father is far too fond of you for that.
—Please… at least spare my Yu-heon…
—Take your own life.
Far back among the watchers, Clan Leader Paeng Il-mok trembled from head to foot as Yeong-hwa mimicked Paeng Mu-jin's voice.
—It is the only way to help Elder Brother.
Tears streaming, Yeong-hwa glared at Paeng Mu-jin.
—Even from the underworld I will watch over the Paeng Clan.
—If only Elder Brother had not been so gifted with the blade, this tragedy would never have happened.
Yeong-hwa laughed with vicious delight.
—Once First Mother is gone, that arrogant Elder Brother's spirit will finally break.
Thwack—
Yeong-hwa struck the dazed Paeng Mu-jin across the skull with his fan.
"Your crime against heaven and man will never be forgiven in this lifetime."
He turned his back and returned to the center of the ritual ground.
With eyes half-lost in possession, he swept the fan toward Hagun.
Boom— boom— boom— boom— boom— boom— boom—
Hagun seized the drumsticks again and began to pound.
To the fierce new rhythm Yeong-hwa shook the silver bells and offered prayer.
"The White Tiger God has every right to be enraged."
He bowed deeply toward the Hall of Ancestors and continued, voice thick with guilt.
"But how easy can it be to abandon one's own descendants?"
"I beg you—release your anger…"
The words broke off.
"Khahk— khaaaaaaah—!"
Yeong-hwa clutched his throat and rolled on the ground.
Hagun, still beating the drum while watching carefully, sensed something wrong.
Yeong-hwa's eyes had cleared; he was stretching a desperate hand toward him.
"Yeong-hwa!"
Hagun sprang up and rushed over.
"Se… nior Brother… blood… blood…"
Hagun thrust his hand beneath the offering table and drew out a bowl brimming with ox blood.
Splashhhhh—
He poured the entire contents over Yeong-hwa's body.
"Haaaah—!"
Yeong-hwa gasped for air and rose, painted head to toe in scarlet.
"Yeong-hwa, what is happening?"
Yeong-hwa stared at the Hall of Ancestors and began to murmur.
"I see… You never abandoned the Paeng Clan at all."
Hagun shook him hard, shouting for him to come to his senses.
"What in the world are you talking about?"
"The White Tiger God is lying collapsed with something around his throat."
Fear trembled in Yeong-hwa's eyes.
He shoved Hagun aside and spun, scanning the darkness.
Something stirred behind the wall in the shadows.
In a deserted corner, leaning against the wall and watching him, stood Paeng Yu-heon.
"Young Master Yu-heon!"
Yeong-hwa's cry rang across the courtyard.
Paeng Yu-heon's voice, thick with internal energy, rolled low over the entire Paeng estate.
"I already warned you…"
Skaaang—
He drew a great crimson saber and smiled thinly at Yeong-hwa.
"If you can stop me—then try."
Paaaaak—
Black energy seethed over Paeng Yu-heon's entire body.
Characters carved deep into the flesh covered his face and arms.
He gazed up at the night sky and whispered,
"I offer it."
"I have waited long for those words, Young Master."
KWAAAAAAAAAANG—
In an instant the wall exploded. Warriors clad in indigo robes poured into the Paeng Clan.
At their head a man laughed wildly and cried,
"At last the White Tiger God is mine!"
White spiritual light and indigo demonic energy swirled together as he ripped away his mask.
"The White Tiger God who rules Metal now lies at my feet!"
A crimson saber-aura streaked toward the man wreathed in demonic energy.
JEOOOOOOONG—
But the crimson aura was stopped by a black one.
Paeng Yu-heon had casually blocked the strike.
Blood-tears streaming down his face, he poured black saber-aura from his crimson blade.
Paeng Un-ro advanced across the ritual ground, his own great saber blazing with manifested aura, face set like stone.
He had raised the Mixed Origin Thunderclap Divine Art to its absolute peak; scarlet lightning crashed around him.
Paeng Yu-heon was no different—except that his lightning was darkness deeper than any abyss.
"You fool! Have you fallen for the Demonic Cult's honeyed lies?"
"I chose this myself."
Blood-lines streaked both of Paeng Yu-heon's cheeks.
"How can a tiger that has lost its mate to another's hand simply walk away?"
He settled lightly into a ready stance.
"Today I will strip the hide from that mad old tiger…"
Jjeojeojeong— jjeojeojeojeojeojeong—
Black saber-aura crystallized along his crimson blade.
"…and offer rites for the souls of those who died unjustly."
"Stop this, Young Master!"
At Yeong-hwa's cry the Black Tortoise mark on the back of his hand began to blaze with light.