We Were Never Truly Ruined.
Yi Jinpyeong shot back.
“Ma-gyo?”
It was an unexpected word. Of course, he hadn’t assumed he was the only one who’d caught wind of the Demonic Cult’s existence, but hearing such talk from No Gae—a man he’d taken for a aimless wanderer drifting through the world without a care—was another matter entirely.
“That’s right. Ma-gyo. You know what they are, don’t you?”
How could he not? He knew them all too well. No one in the Central Plains knew them better.
“Wandering the world, you pick up all sorts of things. I thought nothing could slip past our Open Faction’s information network, but the Central Plains are wider than I imagined, and there’s no shortage of events buried away from the public eye.”
“Buried events?”
“A few years back, I stumbled upon a village in Gansu Province that had been wiped out entirely. A gruesome scene. The thoroughness—sparing not a single man, woman, child, or elder—and the sheer cruelty of the methods... it wasn’t the work of humans in disguise. Folks whispered it was some ruthless bandit gang or black道 thugs, but to my eyes, it was the deed of one lone individual.”
Gansu Province. An entire village massacred in horror. The tale dovetailed eerily with what Yi Jinpyeong had heard from Un Sa-nang.
“At first, I figured it was just some monstrous killer on the loose. I scoured the area around Gansu to catch the bastard. That’s when I started crossing paths with more scenes like it. Most were disguised as bandit raids or black道 work, but that’s not what they were. Clearly the work of one person. And the methods grew ever more horrific. It was like the humanity was draining away—not just brutally, but with an indifference akin to a natural disaster...”
No Gae had roamed the Central Plains his whole life, weathering every trial imaginable. Yet as he described the scenes, his face twisted with deep disgust... and a faint undercurrent of fear.
“I dimly realized it tied to traces of demonic arts. It’d been over a century since they were supposedly wiped out, so I’d never seen or felt it myself, but the eerie, ominous aura at those sites was unlike anything I’d encountered. And that wasn’t all. Someone was systematically covering it up—erasing traces, smothering rumors before they could spread into the Central Plains. Buying time until their forces take root, no doubt.”
“......”
“If it’s not some other faction but the Demonic Cult stirring again, this is no small matter. I tried alerting our Open Faction and other sects multiple times, but for some reason, my messages kept getting blocked midway. That’s why I showed up at this martial conference pretending it was coincidence. To warn them directly of the gravity and unite our strength to nip the cult’s expansion in the bud.”
Yi Jinpyeong furrowed his brow as he listened to No Gae. The old beggar had no idea how dire things truly were. From what Un Sa-nang had told him, their tendrils were already sunk deep into the Central Plains—every corner of it. Even inside the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans, where No Gae belonged. That explained why his warnings had been repeatedly intercepted.
And with this martial conference...
Yi Jinpyeong started to speak, then clamped his mouth shut. No Gae was a senior of the Central Plains martial world and the one who’d brought up the Demonic Cult first, but to Yi Jinpyeong, he was still just a stranger met today. He couldn’t fully trust the man yet.
And one more thing. Even if No Gae was genuinely worried about the cult’s resurgence, why spill all this to him? The intent was so transparent it was laughable.
“Old timer. Why tell me all this?”
No Gae looked visibly flustered at Yi Jinpyeong’s curt tone.
“Why? Don’t you grasp what it means for the Demonic Cult to rise again? How monstrous they are? How they’ve forsaken all humanity? You’re no ordinary man—you’re of Yi Gajang. Descendant of the world’s greatest, Yi Gyeol, aren’t you?”
“And what of it?”
No Gae glared at him for a moment. True to his moniker “Mad Beggar,” but uncharacteristically patient, he pressed on.
“Back in the day, Yi Gyeol, the supreme under heaven, played the pivotal role in crushing the Demonic Cult’s uprising. His heart methods, rooted in Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong, were invaluable in healing those tainted by demonic arts. So in this era when the cult shows signs of stirring once more, doesn’t the meteoric rise of you—the last remnant of a near-extinct Yi Gajang—hold profound meaning? Surely this is—”
“Meaning? What nonsense. You’re spouting utter drivel.”
No Gae’s face twisted. Yi Jinpyeong continued coldly, ignoring it.
“Old timer. Don’t you see the glaring contradiction in what you’re saying? Your Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans spent ages meticulously dismantling Yi Gajang. And now that the Demonic Cult rears its head, you want to shove us back to the front lines?”
“You misunderstand. I’ve no intent to push you forward or exploit you. Merely that before absolute evil, we must all unite our—”
“Absolute evil. What a joke. Was it the Demonic Cult that ruined Yi Gajang? Or your precious Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans? Which is the evil to us?”
“......”
“If you meant to preach justice and beg us to fight together, why not bury your ugly past deeper? Did you think we’d blindly join hands after hearing that? Do you take us for fools? Saints? Did the compassionate Buddha reincarnate or something?”
No Gae fell silent. Yi Jinpyeong smirked bitterly.
“Congratulations. Your sects’ martial prowess has grown so mighty you dominate the Central Plains outright. Even if that trifling Demonic Cult kicks up a fuss, how could they ever surpass you? Old timer, let’s each go our own way. You safeguard the Central Plains’ peace. I’ve my hands full just reviving my house.”
He turned to leave. No Gae didn’t stop him. Couldn’t.
Back at the inn, Yi Jinpyeong quietly opened the door. To his surprise, his brothers were still awake, seated in lotus position, focused on circulating their qi in the cramped room.
They opened their eyes at his approach. Not that they’d been deeply immersed.
Yi Jinun grinned sheepishly. “You’re back? Can’t settle with the tournament coming up.”
“Cramming at the last minute won’t help. They judge on usual skill. I told you to sleep.”
“We’re really entering, right? You’re sitting it out, yeah? Right?”
“Enough with the ‘right.’ Let’s sleep already.”
Yi Jinpyeong flopped down beside them, arms pillowed under his head, staring blankly at the ceiling. His mind was a tangle.
He hadn’t known the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans had orchestrated Yi Gajang’s fall. It eased his guilt somewhat—not solely his past life’s dying words—but gaining a target for resentment didn’t improve matters.
Should he rage? Turn his blade on them? Tell No Gae and the cult to sort it themselves, as he’d vented?
As he sank into thought, his two brothers lay down flanking him. Just like always in Yi Gajang’s annex, the three brothers lay shoulder-to-shoulder in the narrow inn room, wide eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Yi Jingang asked softly, “Little brother. What happened?”
Yi Jinpyeong, still gazing upward, finally spoke. “Have you brothers ever resented anyone?”
“Resented?”
“Our father who left us this ruined house. Our ancestors. Or others—the ones who fled, betrayed us, tried to exploit us...”
He added, “Or an ancestor who left some absurd last words.”
Silence from his brothers. It was a sudden question, after all.
Yi Jinun answered first. “Resent? What for? We’re the generation that ended up penniless. If anyone, we’d resent ourselves.”
Yi Jingang nodded vigorously. “Second brother speaks truly.”
“Right? I’ve matured a ton, huh?”
The elders chuckled warmly. Yi Jinpyeong squeezed his eyes shut. I shouldn’t have asked.
The laughter faded. Yi Jingang replied to Yi Jinpyeong’s question.
“How could there be no resentment?”
Yi Jinun and Yi Jinpyeong turned to him. Yi Jingang stared at the ceiling.
“Even as I strove to honor our ancestor’s will, I resented him countless times for leaving it. When Father passed, leaving us alone. When retainers and kin turned their backs...”
His low voice filled the tiny room. The gentle, statue-like Yi Jingang admitting resentment shocked the others, though it shouldn’t have.
“But resentment changes nothing. For me, fulfilling my duty and advancing step by step was the only path. Painful as it was, our ancestor’s words ultimately align with goodness, righteousness, and chivalry. I believed rewards would come if we followed that road...”
“But brother, didn’t the house nearly collapse anyway?”
Yi Jinun posed it, then burst out laughing at his own words. Yi Jingang joined in. Yi Jinpyeong couldn’t help a hollow chuckle.
Laughter subsided. Yi Jingang continued.
“No. We were never truly ruined. We three are alive and well. Your madness vanished like mist, little brother. Our empty estate now buzzes with people. And you’ve inexplicably revived our family arts perfectly. We were never ruined.”
“......”
“So, Jinpyeong. We’ve no one to resent. Even if our founder stood here, he’d say the same. No time for anger or grudges—don’t dwell on the past, trust our strength, and charge ahead.”
Yi Jinun’s head snapped up. He glanced between them, tilting his head.
“Brother. That sounds less like our ancestor and more like Jinpyeong. Spot on description, if you ask me.”
“Indeed. Quite so.”
The brothers roared with laughter. Yi Jinpyeong joined in fully this time.
Until the warriors next door, unable to endure the midnight racket, burst in swords drawn.