The Man in Black Robes
The bodies of the four men in black robes ignited fiercely and rapidly.
“Kuaaaack!”
Swords from Wudang, Huashan, Jongnam, and Kunlun slashed wildly in all directions. Desperate struggles fueled by the will to survive and hatred for their foes. But they only carved into one another.
Yi Jinpyeong pierced through their flailing midst with heavy steps. He turned back, his cold gaze savoring their final moments.
Un Sa-nang, still crouched behind the boulder, watched Yi Jinpyeong impassively observe the roaring flames. It was baffling how such ruthless resolve dwelled within that boyish face, yet to fully shed its youthful innocence, occasionally brimming with mischief.
As someone once dominated by such a being, she knew well the terror of the Demonic Cult. Yet Yi Jinpyeong seemed born solely to destroy them. Just like the world's greatest martial artist, Yi Gyeol, in days of old...
But suddenly, Un Sa-nang noticed Yi Jinpyeong's expression, once relaxed in appreciation of the blaze, had frozen stiff. More than stiff—it brimmed with tension.
...This young master, nervous?
Unthinkable. She followed his gaze. And realized he wasn't watching the four burning warriors.
Beyond the surging flames, something lurked.
As that presence waved its hand once, the flames Yi Jinpyeong had summoned guttered out in an instant. In that moment, along with an eerie sense of déjà vu, Un Sa-nang felt her body stiffen and tingle.
A little earlier.
Yi Jinpyeong had sensed the presence beyond the flames.
It stood utterly devoid of presence, silently watching the four blazing pyres. Impossible to say when it had arrived.
Yi Jinpyeong's body went rigid. A profoundly strange occurrence. He'd never frozen like this, no matter who or what he faced.
Through the flickering blaze, a young man in his mid-twenties came into view. Clad head to toe in crow-black uniform, his skin ghostly pale, lips vividly red, brows slender. A beauty so exquisite it blurred the line between man and woman.
He murmured.
"Came for the fireworks... and it turns out they were my children."
The man in black slowly raised his hand. With a languid flick of his elongated fingers, the hellfire clinging to the four mil-ja snuffed out in a blink.
He had effortlessly erased Yi Jinpyeong's flames. But too late to save their lives. All had charred to cinders.
As the three warriors crumbled one by one, only one clung to consciousness: Wudang's Jang-yeon Do-in.
“Ugh... ugh...”
Staggering and thrashing, Jang-yeon spotted the man in black. Amid the soot, whites of his eyes flashed.
As if beholding something forbidden—or desperately longed for—he gaped wide-eyed, mouth agape. Thrusting up his charred-black arms, he cried out unintelligible words.
“Rye... Ryeong-ju... it is... you...”
Did some strength remain? Trembling, Jang-yeon clasped his hands in the air. He bent his knees, bowed his waist, and prostrated deeply.
A grotesque sight. A man little more than a burnt corpse—a venerable Wudang elder no less—gathering his last dregs of strength and will to reverently bow to this fresh-faced youth.
The man in black watched without a flicker of expression.
Jang-yeon rasped through his incinerated throat.
“L... Lord... please... forgive... us...”
The words mangled into incoherence. But the meaning was clear.
The man in black nodded. His beautiful voice replied.
"I forgive you. No sin in mere lack of ability."
Jang-yeon bowed his head in rapture. If tears were possible, they would have flowed. But his blackened husk held no moisture left.
The man in black raised his hand again. Fingers curled as if grasping round... then clenched empty air.
Pfbt!
Jang-yeon's head exploded. Amid black ash, white bone and red gore tumbled.
A horrific end. But now, no more pain for him.
Yi Jinpyeong gripped his pipe, glaring. No demonic qi emanated from the man. Yet instinct told him—this was the childhood friend Un Sa-nang had spoken of.
Grown far stronger, more perilous than her descriptions suggested... Gooseflesh prickled his skin. Every nerve and muscle screamed.
His instincts urged: Aim the pipe. Prepare to fight. Defend against attack.
But Yi Jinpyeong didn't. Feigning calm. Indifference. Composure.
Just watching. Even assuming a stance in reaction to the foe's aura—his pride forbade it.
The man in black, having granted eternal rest to his loyal spy, turned. At last, their eyes met.
Krrt—
Yi Jinpyeong ground his teeth. Merely meeting the man's gaze felt like plummeting into an abyssal void.
An endless darkness. A bewitching allure that ensnared the soul, drawing it into oblivion. Thicker than anything, shadowy qi crept from him, devouring all around.
Yi Jinpyeong realized: Even he, who had grown swifter than any since reincarnation—even pouring every ounce of his sa-dan-gongGwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong—victory would not come easy.
At this level, only the reborn Yi Gyeol at his prime could have subdued him.
Un Sa-nang had said his allegiance to the Demonic Cult was recent. His initiation and self-proof even more so. To grow this fast in mere years... his limits unfathomable.
Yi Jinpyeong wasn't alone in gauging the depths. A faint smile cracked the man's impassive face. You are no match for me.
Even as Yi Jinpyeong stared at that smile, words failed him. Crushed by the aura—shredded pride, rage, doubt, chaos, shame swirling—he stood frozen.
The man turned. Toward Un Sa-nang, equally petrified behind the boulder.
"Jin-seol. Long time no see."
Un Sa-nang made no reply. Just trembled faintly, watching.
"I had a feeling I'd run into you here. My instincts were spot on."
His voice dripped honeyed sweetness, like reuniting with a beloved lover. Yet his face remained blank and dry, the mismatch chillingly discordant.
Still, no answer from Un Sa-nang.
He tilted his head.
"Why no welcome? Why that hideous mask? When you have the world's most beautiful face. Some playful jest?"
"Don't... don't talk to me like that!"
Un Sa-nang shrieked shrilly. Trembling in terror, yet raising her voice in defiance.
"Don't act like nothing happened! Like you care about me!!!"
"Ahh. My love. My woman."
No inflection, no emotion in his words. Could a declaration of love sound so arid?
"Why such anger? Because I didn't contact you? Did the Seven Shadows treat you poorly?"
Un Sa-nang burst into shrill cackles. Laced with terror, madness, rage—like laughter wrung from torment.
"Yes! The Seven Shadows! You saddled me with that damned cur. To watch me, control me! But guess what? He's already burned to ash in hellfire! Just like your other dogs!"
The man paused briefly, then nodded.
"Seven Shadows dead, huh. Explains the odd turn of events here. A pity. He was useful enough."
He took a step forward. Ignoring Yi Jinpyeong entirely, eyes fixed on Un Sa-nang.
"No matter. I won't blame you. What I need now is you. So come, embrace me. Like old times."
Un Sa-nang shrank behind the rock.
"No. I won't return to your side. You destroyed me, inflicted pain worse than death. You dominated my life at whim, shoved me into hell."
"Jin-seol. If I hurt you, I'm sorry. But it was unavoidable. I was young then, no time to look around. It was just the start of my journey to prove myself, to gain certainty. But now... it's different. Not at the pinnacle yet, but no one dares doubt or test me now."
He paused, then smirked—the first emotion to crack his blank mask.
"I killed all who did."
Un Sa-nang blanched.
He extended a pale hand.
"So, Jin-seol. Come. It's not like before. I'll never let go of your hand."
Some mystical power clung to that outstretched palm. Contrary to his words, Un Sa-nang gagged as if an invisible noose choked her throat.
As her form dragged limply from behind the rock, the connecting energy snapped.
Un Sa-nang tumbled across the ground, freed with effort.
At last, the man in black looked at Yi Jinpyeong. The one who severed his power.
Yi Jinpyeong lit his pipe. Inhaling deeply, he exhaled a long plume—whoosh.
His racing heart steadied, prickled hairs settled. Through the swirling smoke, he glared and spoke.
"Put that filthy hand away."
Chilly and arrogant, as always.