This Is the Celestial Origin Immortal Soul Pill
"Why, you little—!"
With a scowl, the old man seized Yi Yeok by the collar and shook him like a rag.
"You thought it was someone like you I was talking about?"
"All right, all right. Your temper hasn't dulled a bit, old man."
At Yi Yeok's shameless grinning, the old man let out a long sigh.
"Then what in the world is going on here? Who was the client?"
The old man jabbed a thumb at his own chest.
"Me."
"What?"
He replied with magnificent arrogance.
"I'm the client. I hired myself to steal this."
Yi Yeok stared at him, baffled for a moment—then burst out laughing.
"Unbelievable, old man. You lecture me about following the rules, and then you pull something this dirty."
The old man's expression turned grave.
"You know as well as I do. Live the way you're living now, and you'll end your days as nothing more than an ordinary mortal fighter. If you want to climb higher, you must either enter an immortal sect or at least follow how they train. This pill is called the Celestial Origin Immortal Soul Pill—one of the three great pills of the immortal realm. Don't go squandering it."
Yi Yeok's jaw dropped.
"Don't tell me you stole this from a sect? How did they not catch you?"
"Do you still not know what kind of man your adoptive father is? There is nothing under heaven that I cannot steal."
Yi Yeok smirked and tucked the porcelain bottle away in his coat. Then he fished out the money pouch he'd lifted from Lord Song's chest earlier.
"Here, old man. A token of my filial devotion."
He plunged a hand into the pouch, grabbed a fistful of whatever came, and held it out to the old man.
And to his own surprise, the old man's voice caught in his throat.
"Look at you, all grown up. You actually think of giving your old father an allowance. Come to think of it, raising you meant I could never stay up all night drinking to my heart's content."
Genuinely moved, the old man gazed up at the night sky, visibly struggling to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.
Yi Yeok snorted at the spectacle.
It was a long while before the old man wiped his eyes and spoke again.
"I'll be leaving again in a few days, but remember this—whatever trouble you stir up, I'll cover your back. Even if you cross the immortal sects themselves, I'll make it right."
A shadow of disappointment crossed Yi Yeok's face.
"You're leaving again? For how long this time?"
"How should I know? I couldn't tell you if it'll take a year or a decade."
The old man's face hardened once more as he pressed his point.
"I'll say this one last time. Go home at least once. Don't break your grandmother's heart. You may never know your birth parents, but she loves you truly—doesn't she?"
The moment Yi Yeok pursed his lips to argue back, the old man kicked him flying.
"I don't want to hear it, you brat! Listen to your father for once!"
Yi Yeok sailed a good thirty paces through the air. Judging by how quickly he scrambled back to his feet, though, the blow had hardly left a mark.
"I'll enjoy myself for a few days on the allowance our dutiful son gave me, then be off. And you—get moving yourself. And burn this into your skull: never, ever slack on your martial training. No matter how high you fly or how far you crawl, in the eyes of the immortal sects you're no better than a pig or a dog, less than dirt. Don't go flaunting your skills where you shouldn't."
With those parting words, the old man vanished in an instant.
Yi Yeok brushed the dust from his clothes, which had been thoroughly ruined by his tumble across the dirt, and grumbled under his breath.
"Honestly. First time seeing him in a year, and all he does is nag before running off."
Then a strange lightness struck him. Frowning in puzzlement, he slipped a hand into his coat—and his face went deathly pale.
Aside from the porcelain bottle the old man had given him, everything was gone. Lord Song's pouch, his own money pouch, even the Night-Luminescent Pearl—not a trace of any of them remained.
"That damned old fossil!"
So that was why he'd gotten so choked up over a measly handful of coins.
* * *
A thief who has once set out on a night's work never returns empty-handed. Stripped of everything he owned by the old man, Yi Yeok had not the slightest intention of going back the way he came.
A fine steed. Even selling it cheap, it'd fetch fifty silver taels at least.
As he combed the western district of Wolgye Castle for his next 'prospect,' Yi Yeok spotted a single carriage rolling quietly past.
The horse pulling it was a magnificent beast with sleek, glossy black hair, and the carriage itself was clearly a high-grade model. It was one thing in broad daylight, but no respectable vehicle had any business being out at this hour, so close to dawn. Better yet, it was deliberately holding its speed down to muffle its noise—which meant it was almost certainly carrying something precious.
What's more, the driver appeared to have trained in the martial arts. After close observation, Yi Yeok judged him to be an expert of the Proud Blood Realm.
In the mortal world, the stages of cultivation were divided into the Proud Qi Realm, the Proud Bones Realm, the Proud Blood Realm, the Proud Spirit Realm, and the Realm of Created Blood and Qi.
The training centered on refining one's own blood-qi, and if one reached the Realm of Created Blood and Qi and could convert vital essence into spirit energy, they would set foot on the threshold of immortality.
But the immortal sects admitted disciples only under the strictest conditions: only those born with a Blood Spirit could walk the path of cultivation. Such people were so rare in the mortal world that fewer than one in ten thousand possessed one, and even those who sought entry into the sects were further winnowed down to the chosen few. The difficulty spoke for itself.
The man driving the carriage before Yi Yeok's eyes was a Proud Blood Realm expert—that alone made him a considerable powerhouse by mortal standards. The Proud Blood Realm was the stage where one began truly refining their blood-qi: the level at which a fighter could strangle a tiger barehanded or punch clean through an iron plate.
Yi Yeok himself stood at the Proud Bones Realm, the stage of hardening the bones further and strengthening the body's blood-making capacity.
Even so, he wasn't worried. He was a shadow thief. He had no intention of clashing head-on. Suppressing his presence entirely, he trailed the carriage—not even the wind's flow betrayed his passage, let alone the sound of footsteps.
More than ten years ago, the old man who had taken in young Yi Yeok after he fled home from an unjust beating had passed down a whole assortment of strange and singular martial arts.
The Hidden Soul Veil Arts, which erased his presence entirely even at arm's length while simultaneously letting him sense anyone at a great distance.
The Snow-Treading Traceless Method, which left no footprint even atop fresh snow.
The Ten Thousand True Phantom Shadow-Extinguishing Hands, striking at speeds the eye could never follow.
Back then he'd known nothing and simply learned whatever he was taught. Reflecting on it now, years later, he suspected the old man had simply spent a lifetime stealing, awakened these secret arts through his own practice, and slapped impressive-sounding names onto them.
For all the years they'd spent together, Yi Yeok knew startlingly little about the old man's history. He didn't even know his name. The old man wanted to be called "Father," but Yi Yeok had only ever called him "old man."
Yi Yeok drew a soft-iron wisp from his coat. This, too, was a gift from the old man—light and supple, yet sharp enough to shear through steel.
"Hm?"
Yi Yeok slowed. He wasn't the only one following the carriage. He could feel it in the disturbance of the air—a group keeping pace with the vehicle at a fixed distance.
"An escort?"
It promised to be far trickier than he'd first imagined. And Yi Yeok was a thief, not a bandit or a highwayman—he couldn't just brawl his way through.
On the other hand, he could now be certain that whatever the carriage carried was worth a great deal. He would have to watch for his chance. Fortunately, there was still time before sunrise.
Beyond the city gate, a small forest soon spread out. Crossing it would be the perfect opening. In that moment, Yi Yeok was confident, he could take the carriage's contents without a soul noticing.
Once through the gate, the carriage picked up speed. The driver was no fool—knowing the stretch through the forest was the most dangerous, he was clearly determined to cross it as fast as possible. The horse matched his earlier assessment: a genuine thoroughbred. The carriage tore along like a gale, but Yi Yeok had little trouble keeping pace.
Then a wave of foreboding washed over him.
Before he could even identify the source of the feeling, Yi Yeok sprang up into a nearby tree and hid himself. For someone who had trained the Hidden Soul Veil Arts for the past ten years, instinct moved faster and truer than analysis.
Yi Yeok held his breath and watched the carriage racing ahead.
Soon a sharp crack rang out, mingled with the horse's screams. Something—a trap—had been sprung.
The Proud Blood Realm expert darted into the carriage and immediately burst up through the roof. Someone was cradled in his arms.
CRASH.
Robbed of its driver, the carriage toppled over and shattered to pieces.
Yi Yeok swept his gaze over the surroundings. The escort he'd been sensing at a distance came swarming in like an ant column.
Something was off. Every last one of them wore black, faces covered. Only when they began swinging blades at the Proud Blood Realm expert the moment his feet touched the ground did Yi Yeok realize he'd been mistaken.
They weren't escorts at all. They were attackers—and the carriage itself was their quarry.
