Almost Nothing Can Stop Him

For days they kept to lonely roads and slipped past every watching eye, until Yi Yeok and his companions came at last to a place called Eumgwerim.

A bleak wind tore through them, and a chill sank all the way into the bone. It was no ordinary cold. It rose from the deepest reaches of the soul.

"Sure enough. This is no ordinary place. Worse than the stories."

Huai trees grew packed through the whole of the forest, and even at a glance they breathed an uncanny, sinister qi.

"Those are the trees they call the Yin Wraiths."

Yi Yeok nodded, eyes narrowing to slits. He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had the feeling that countless eyes were fixed on him, and the strangeness of it raised the hair along his arms.

Hwan Mong dropped her voice in warning.

"We may run into cultivators of the Buddhist order. Don't let your guard down. Not for a moment."

They stepped into Eumgwerim. Dense yin qi wound about them and clung as if it were alive, stubborn as a living thing. Shadows flickered past, ghostlike.

Hwan Mong and the two men quietly circulated their blood spirits, wary of letting the yin qi eat into them.

Then Yi Yeok brought the Hidden Soul Divine Spirit Art to bear in earnest. The yin qi wrapped around him scattered in an instant and drifted off, as if it had lost all interest.

A short laugh broke from him.

"Running, are you?"

The Heavenly Dragon Flying Sand opened its great maw and swallowed the yin qi whole. Not content with that, it gulped down every wisp clinging around Hwan Mong and the other two as well.

The three of them stared, blank. The Heavenly Dragon Flying Sand went on devouring the yin qi as if it were having the time of its life.

Hwan Rang let out a breath of pure admiration.

"One shock after another. I swear it."

Yi Yeok opened his senses and began to comb the whole of Eumgwerim, sweeping it as if he meant to turn the place inside out. Through the sound of the wind came something very low, like the wail of a ghost.

In the next instant, he was gone.

He drove the Hidden Soul Divine Spirit Art to its limit, both hands blurring like phantoms. The yin qi shrouding the forest bolted like startled prey.

"No use. You're becoming part of my divine soul."

He laughed under his breath and closed his right hand on empty air. The current thrashed inside his palm, struggling, and in the end it was absorbed without a trace.

"What in the world is that bastard doing?"

Hwan Do could not keep the shock off his face. The sight of Yi Yeok taking in fragments of resentful souls was beyond anything he could make sense of. Hwan Mong's eyes lit as she spoke.

"He's absorbing shards of resentful souls and turning them into his own power."

"That's possible?"

Hwan Rang asked it as if the words refused to settle in his head.

"A divine soul is supposed to stay pure. Isn't he just going to foul his own, carrying on like that?"

"That's exactly what makes him different. Until now, he's the only one who's ever succeeded in learning that art."

Hwan Do nodded.

"Fair enough. If a thing like that can be done, there's nothing strange about it."

"The higher-ups are pinning a great deal of hope on him, too. The trouble is his temperament. He plays it light on the outside, but he's fickle, and there's no predicting which way he'll move. He doesn't even have anyone he thinks of as a friend. Or as family."

Hwan Rang shot a glance at Hwan Mong and added,

"Or a woman."

A chill passed over Hwan Mong's face for an instant. Hwan Do shook his head.

"Everyone has a weakness. I'm not sure he does. All he cares about is his own gain, and he doesn't waste feeling on anything."

Hwan Do let a beat pass, then spoke again.

"Having no weakness is a serious problem. If the higher-ups decide they can't control him..."

Hwan Mong's eyes glinted, cold. Hwan Rang's face was troubled.

"Nothing to be done about it. What are you going to do with a nature someone was born with? The only principle behind that bastard's actions is his mood. He'll talk about rules and all the rest, pretty as you please, but in the end he just follows whatever he feels at the time."

Then Hwan Do spoke up, abrupt.

"And if he finds out what we're really after? Will he try to kill us?"

Hwan Rang frowned, and it was a long moment before he answered.

"Could we even run? Or pin him down? From what I've seen this time, he's grown stronger than before by a gap you can't compare."

"It won't be easy. That speed of his makes even a fair difference in realm meaningless. And we don't know what So Cheong-ha taught him."

Hwan Rang arched a brow.

"That secret art So Cheong-ha supposedly made off with, back then? Don't tell me he taught him that."

"I heard it's an amplification art with no ceiling. And when it comes to understanding martial arts, So Cheong-ha yields to no one."

At last Hwan Mong spoke.

"You're borrowing trouble."

"We're only weighing every possibility. The higher-ups are already worried about whether they can control him. If they decide they can't..."

Hwan Rang lowered his voice.

"They might remove him. Even the Old Thief couldn't stop a decision like that."

Yi Yeok's soul began to change.

Until now it had only turned quietly inside him, a gray current and nothing more. Now it had become a typhoon, madly drinking in fragments of resentful souls. The pace of absorption quickened and quickened, and Yi Yeok pressed deeper into Eumgwerim. Hwan Mong and the others had no choice but to match his speed, closing the distance as they followed.

With every step he felt, more keenly, the true worth of the Hidden Soul Divine Spirit Art. Spiritual energy of heaven and earth, resentful souls — once they came into his hands, all of it was his. His senses grew sharper still, until he could tell exactly how many resentful souls he took in at a single pass. The number beggared imagination.

Where he passed, the yin qi vanished, and the air fell still.

One double-hour passed, then another, and the night sank deep.

By the next morning the sun was up, and the dew glittered like scattered jewels. At last Yi Yeok came to a stop. His eyes shone clear, a golden light wavering in their depths.

He let out a long breath. His senses had grown keener still. Now he could feel a single earthworm within several hundred yards, and a single drop of dew falling thousands of yards away.

Hwan Mong and the others watched him with meaningful eyes. Between them ran a subtle wariness, and no small measure of astonishment.

Yi Yeok smiled lightly.

"Burned a good bit of time. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Did I overdo it?"

"You all right?"

Hwan Mong asked. Yi Yeok nodded.

"Better than all right. I feel damned good."

Hwan Do spoke with open admiration.

"Drawing power out of resentful souls. Have to admit, that's something."

Hwan Rang urged them on.

"Let's move. We need to reach Namyak Temple. Stay too long and we might catch the Buddhist order's eye."

They said no more, and hurried on.

Yi Yeok followed a little behind. His blood spirit, the Heavenly Dragon Flying Sand, still swallowed the yin qi around them without leaving a trace.

He was beginning, dimly, to understand the history of this place. He could not even guess how many people had died here. In some stretches the bones lay heaped like geological strata, hundreds of feet deep. It was, quite literally, a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. How many lives had vanished in this forest was beyond imagining.

He called ahead to Hwan Mong.

"How did this place come to be?"

She answered without looking back.

"The story that's been passed down says that, long ago, the Buddhist order buried alive everyone who refused the Buddhist path. More than a million of them. After that the wailing of souls never ceased, and the resentment pierced the sky. So they planted the Yin Wraiths to imprison the resentful souls. Namyak Temple stands at the center of it all."

Yi Yeok nodded.

"Then what happens if we destroy Namyak Temple?"

"No idea. But that isn't our goal. What we want is the sarira and the Demon-Subduing Pestle."

He turned the thought over in silence. If he absorbed every resentful soul in Eumgwerim, might his own soul undergo another qualitative change?

He held the formula in mind and looked out over Eumgwerim. The forest seemed, to him, like one vast ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠treasure vault.

Having drunk in that immense power, the Heavenly Dragon Flying Sand had taken the shape of a serpent with nine heads.