A Message to the Night Lord
'Am I dreaming right now?'
U-dun's subordinates all had the same thought.
But the metallic stench of blood tickling the tips of their noses insisted this was no dream, but stark reality.
Which meant...
The corpse lying right before them, its limbs twisted and broken at grotesque angles...
Was indeed their leader, U-dun.
'Gasp...!'
The men collectively sucked in a breath.
They desperately wanted to avoid drawing the attention of the man who had created this incomprehensible reality.
They did not want Jeok-un's gaze to land on them.
If they caught his eye...
They might end up just like U-dun.
That sheer, paralyzing terror gripped them.
"H-Hieek?!"
Sure enough, the moment one unfortunate lackey accidentally made eye contact with Jeok-un, he let out a pathetic, high-pitched shriek and collapsed to the ground.
'I-I'm going to die...!'
And who could blame him?
Jeok-un's murderous intent and his martial prowess were the real deal.
The mighty U-dun had been slaughtered without even putting up a proper fight.
Crushing a mere minnow like him would be easier than swatting a fly.
While that was an undeniable fact, fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—no such slaughter took place.
"Clean this up."
"Y-Yes...?"
When the subordinate, who had answered purely out of reflex, stammered in confusion, Jeok-un barked coldly.
"I said clean it up. It's in my way."
With that, Jeok-un nudged U-dun's corpse with the toe of his boot.
He treated the body like a pile of filthy garbage.
Under normal circumstances, U-dun's loyal followers would have boiled with rage at such disrespect.
Yet, not a single soul dared to show anger.
They knew all too well that if they spoke up, they would be carrying two corpses instead of one.
"C-Clean it up? To where...?"
"Do you really need to ask?"
"U-Understood. We will take him straight to the Black Ghost Squad's headquarters..."
"Tsk, tsk. Not there."
"...Pardon?"
As the subordinates froze in confusion, Jeok-un let out a chilling smirk.
"You should deliver it to your real master."
"—!"
The men's eyes widened so far they threatened to pop out of their sockets.
"Real master."
That meant Jeok-un already knew the Night Lord was pulling their strings.
'He's insane...'
'He did all this knowing exactly who was behind it?'
As they hoisted U-dun's heavy, broken corpse with trembling hands, Jeok-un delivered the final blow.
"Go and tell him."
Jeok-un's voice was flat, leaving no room for doubt.
"Tell him I'll be visiting soon. So he'd better wash his neck and wait."
"?!"
The subordinates' faces turned a sickly, ashen gray.
The moment they delivered that message to the Night Lord, they would likely be executed on the spot for bringing such insolence.
Yet, they had nowhere else to run. Nodding frantically, U-dun's men scrambled out of the training grounds as if fleeing for their lives.
*Whoosh...*
A heavy silence descended upon the area, so profound that even the faint rustle of the gentle breeze felt deafening.
*Swish!*
Jeok-un turned on his heel and headed toward the infirmary where the future Blood Empress lay.
"W-Wait for me, Squad Leader!"
Go Bok-gil scurried after him, his short legs moving as fast as they could.
* * *
"Cackle! You absolute madman."
Hwa Mu-il, the Leader of the Black Medicine Hall, known as 'First Fist Then Needle', burst into a fit of cackling laughter as he looked at Jeok-un.
"This is only our second time meeting, yet you certainly don't mince your words."
"Kehe. You've caused trouble every single day since you joined Sadocheon. If you aren't a madman, what else should I call you?"
Hwa Mu-il cackled.
Though his words were blunt, his eyes gleamed with intense curiosity.
It had been a very long time since anyone in Sadocheon had managed to entertain him like this.
Jeok-un shrugged.
"I don't go looking for trouble. This place just forces my hand."
"Oh?"
"For some reason, the entirety of Sadocheon is an absolute mess."
Hwa Mu-il's eyes sparkled.
"Heh, heh. Why does that sound to me like you plan to keep causing trouble?"
"What choice do I have? Since I'm the only one willing to swing a club at these rabid dogs, I'll just have to do it."
Seeing Jeok-un speak with such calm, nonchalant confidence, as if stating a universal truth, Hwa Mu-il grinned.
'This guy is the real deal. A certified lunatic.'
He began to wonder how on earth such a madman could have emerged from the stuffy, rigid Orthodox factions, but Jeok-un cut his train of thought short.
"So, how is she?"
Jeok-un's gaze shifted to Hae-yeon, who lay unconscious on the sickbed.
Though she had clearly received emergency treatment, she still looked terrible.
"They tortured her brutally. I don't know what kind of sick, twisted methods they used, but the shockwaves of internal energy have seeped deep into her bones. She'll need at least a month of absolute bed rest."
Hwa Mu-il spoke with rare gravity.
Though he was famous for his violent, fist-first personality, he never joked when it came to diagnosing a patient.
Yet, Jeok-un's response was dismissive.
"That won't do."
"...What?"
Jeok-un had flatly rejected the diagnosis.
The playful smirk vanished from Hwa Mu-il's face, hardening instantly.
He absolutely loathed it when anyone interfered with his medical judgments.
Just as he was about to unleash a torrent of furious abuse...
"The Golden Turtle Pill."
"...!"
"Use that."
"You want me to use the Golden Turtle Pill on this girl?"
"You heard me correctly."
At Jeok-un's words, not only Hwa Mu-il but also Hwang-no and Go Bok-gil gasped in shock.
The Golden Turtle Pill was a supreme elixir so rare and potent that even Squad Leaders and high-ranking officials within Sadocheon hesitated to use it.
In short, it was astronomically expensive.
To waste such a treasure on a mere low-ranking member of the Outer Squad?
It was unheard of.
Hwa Mu-il asked, dumbfounded.
"Do you honestly think your monthly stipend can cover the cost of such a sacred medicine?"
"I wouldn't have suggested it if I couldn't pay for it."
"...!"
"Use that, and don't spare any other top-grade pills or herbs. Make sure she wakes up within two days."
"!!"
While everyone, including Hwa Mu-il, stood frozen in disbelief...
"And don't worry. Someone else will be footing the bill."
Jeok-un added with a meaningful smirk.
Someone else is paying?
Realizing what Jeok-un was planning, Hwa Mu-il's lips curled back into a grin.
He had thought the show was over, but it seemed the main event was only just beginning.
"Fine, I'll do it. But what kind of deep connection do you have with this girl to go to such lengths?"
"A very persistent one."
"So who is she to you?"
"I met her for the first time today."
"??"
Utter bewilderment washed over Hwa Mu-il's face.
* * *
Deciding to brew the decoction while retrieving the elixir, Hwa Mu-il dragged Go Bok-gil along to act as his assistant.
In the end, only three people remained in the room.
The unconscious Hae-yeon, Jeok-un...
"You're Hwang-no, correct?"
"Yes."
And Hwang-no, who had carried Hae-yeon all the way here.
His reply was brief.
It could have been perceived as slightly disrespectful, but Jeok-un didn't mind in the least.
It wasn't because of the old man's deeply wrinkled face.
Nor was it because the old man remained standing due to his crippled leg.
"I heard on the way here that you've been with the Baekya-dan the longest. Is that true?"
"It is."
Hwang-no was an outsider.
But since Changsha was now the headquarters of Sadocheon and teeming with outsiders, that was hardly unusual.
What was truly remarkable was that a crippled old man who could barely use one of his legs had managed to survive in the Baekya-dan for decades.
Yet, it wasn't because of any outstanding martial arts.
Though he was long past retirement age, as evidenced by his snow-white hair, he remained here for a different reason.
He possessed exceptional talents outside of martial arts.
In the Baekya-dan, where most members were completely illiterate, Hwang-no could read and write, and he was highly skilled in mathematics.
Furthermore, though he was a man of few words, his character and reputation were so stellar that he had no enemies.
In short, he was a wise and knowledgeable veteran of the Jianghu, to whom members of other Outer Squads frequently came for advice.
Because of this, the other members often wondered why Hwang-no refused to leave the Baekya-dan.
A man as wise as Hwang-no surely knew that as long as the Night Lord held sway, the Baekya-dan had no future.
"But from what I can see, you seem to have quite a few hidden talents."
"Not at all. They are all useless skills."
"No, I don't mean those."
"Pardon?"
Hwang-no asked, looking genuinely confused, but Jeok-un merely chuckled.
"How could Hae-yeon, who knew absolutely nothing of martial arts, survive for a year and even fight U-dun in the end?"
"...!"
A flicker of surprise crossed Hwang-no's eyes at Jeok-un's words, but it vanished just as quickly.
"...That is because Hae-yeon was born with exceptional talent."
"No."
Jeok-un spoke firmly.
"I examined her skeletal structure. Her martial skeleton is average at best. In fact, it's lacking, especially since she started learning martial arts so late in life."
Jeok-un stated it as an absolute fact.
Overwhelmed by his certainty, Hwang-no remained silent, unable to offer a rebuttal.
Jeok-un continued.
"The sword technique she used at the very end is not something you would find in the dusty old manuals rotting in the Baekya-dan's archives."
"..."
There was only one reason Jeok-un hadn't stepped in immediately to save the cornered Hae-yeon.
He had sensed that among the spectators, there was an unknown figure who looked ready to leap in before he did.
And...
That person was none other than the old man standing right in front of him: Hwang-no.
'To think this old man was hiding in the Baekya-dan.'
Although they had no connection before his regression, Jeok-un knew this man was by no means ordinary.
Swallowing that realization for now, Jeok-un pressed on.
"Which leaves only two possibilities. Either Hae-yeon possesses the genius of a grandmaster capable of creating her own martial arts..."
"..."
"Or she had a teacher."
Jeok-un spoke as if posing a question, his expression unreadable. Hwang-no maintained his silence.
Jeok-un added casually.
"Old man, you were clutching your right hand tightly throughout the entire duel."
"...!"
"As if you were afraid you wouldn't be able to hold back from throwing a strike."
*Swoosh.*
In an instant, a chilling aura flickered in Hwang-no's eyes.
The tension in the room spiked, thick enough to cut with a knife. But...
"Well, if I'm wrong, so be it."
"...??"
Jeok-un's sudden, nonchalant dismissal defused the heavy atmosphere instantly.
While Hwang-no stood there utterly dumbfounded...
Jeok-un stood up.
He looked down at the old man and spoke.
"I have no intention of digging into your past, nor do I want to put you in my debt."
"...!"
"But you will have to make a decision by the time I return."
Jeok-un's voice brooked no argument.
"Because I have no intention of keeping an unidentified 'shadow' under my command."
"...!"
At the word 'shadow,' Hwang-no's eyes shook violently.
Although Jeok-un claimed not to know his identity, referring to him as a 'shadow' strongly implied that he already knew exactly who Hwang-no was.
Jeok-un turned to leave, but stopped at the threshold of the infirmary.
"Take good care of her until I get back."
"Pardon?"
Hwang-no looked up in surprise.
Jeok-un was looking down at him.
"Until you officially retire, you are still my subordinate. Is there a problem?"
"...No, sir."
"Good."
*Step.*
Just as Jeok-un was about to walk out, Hwang-no called out.
"...Where are you planning to go?"
"Why do you ask?"
Jeok-un smirked, giving the most obvious answer in the world.
"To take the Night Lord's head, of course."