A Request Has Come In
In the rundown dormitory room at Cheongryong Mugwan, another sealed letter sat before me—the one Jegalmugeom had secretly slipped me before we left the Mu-rim-meng.
This wasn't just a bundle of paper.
Scrape.
I reached out with trembling hands and carefully tore open the envelope sealed tight with red wax.
Rustle.
As the envelope opened, a single sheet of thin stationery fell out—along with, astonishingly, a thick booklet.
"What the hell is this...?"
Frowning, I unfolded the stationery first.
It was covered in Jegalmugeom's signature sharp handwriting. As I read on, my eyes widened in growing shock.
Yeon-sensei.
The murder case earlier today was my small discourtesy in seeking your keen insight. I sincerely bow to your discernment that pierces truths beyond the Alliance's reach.
Thus, now—not as a test, but in the name of the Murim Alliance Lord and myself—I formally request your true 'help.'
"True... help?"
I swallowed hard.
The leaders of the Murim Alliance, who commanded the world, were officially asking me for help? This was no light matter. It meant they'd fully recognized me as a business partner.
But that also meant they might entrust me with something far more secretive—and far more dangerous.
With a bad premonition churning my gut, heart pounding wildly, I read on.
Paeng Cheol-hwan, patriarch of Haebuk Paenga, recently summoned a healer for his afflicted young master.
My master, who had stopped at some northern castle town in Haebuk to treat the Haebuk Paenga young master on the way back from Yodong to Henan.
Master's story here? And what followed was shocking enough to freeze my brain solid.
While diagnosing the young master in the Paeng family's deep secret chamber, he vanished—without a trace.
"What... did you say?"
A dumb metallic croak escaped my lips.
Master was one of the Ten Great Masters, the Healer Sage. For a freak with his absolute martial prowess and medical skill to vanish flawlessly from a sealed room?
By the time the patriarch sensed something wrong and smashed open the chamber door, only the young master remained—vomiting blood, hovering on death's edge.
And on the desk sat the Healer's 'Patient Detailed Observation Record'—all alone.
I snatched up the thick booklet beneath the letter.
The cover bore Jo Myeong-hwan's distinctive cramped script: 'Patient Detailed Observation Record'.
The Alliance healers and Cheoni-gak agents rushed north with me to analyze the record and examine the young master. But... we were forced to despair.
This bizarre affliction defies any poison or qi deviation known in the world.
Hands shaking, I flipped open the first page of the Patient Detailed Observation Record.
It detailed the young master's horrifying condition up to Master's disappearance.
[The patient's dantian rages wildly. Immense energy boils up like molten lava, far beyond normal.]
[Heart beats abnormally fast; unknown energy fills the lungs, causing pneumothorax-like symptoms—he can't breathe.]
[At night, severe chills hit, and he frantically searches for someone, losing reason in beastly howls and convulsions.]
"Wh-what the hell is this...?"
With each page, my face drained white as a sheet.
Dantian boiling, body crumbling, nightly berserk fits? Qi deviation? But not the classic kind from wuxia tales.
Even if it was some unknown symptom, Master would've spotted qi deviation instantly. If even he logged it as observation, it wasn't that.
An anomalous condition, identity unknown. A massive wall blocked us from the cause.
Yeon-sensei. With that wondrous insight that pierced the sealed truth in Cheongpung Sword Sect's chamber.
Please uncover the reality of this unknown affliction—and the Healer's disappearance.
Finishing the letter, I stared blankly into space.
Master was missing. The Paeng heir was dying from some mystery plague. And the duty to unravel it all fell squarely on me.
"This is insane... for real."
Head pounding, I clutched my skull.
I wasn't a murim master—just a rookie starting basic arts. But my brain held a decade's database of thousands of wuxia novels.
The writer's mind instinctively plotted and analyzed the story beats.
"Wait, no way...?"
A chill of fear and eerie thrill rippled through me.
I checked the record's final page again. Master's script grew shaky toward the end.
[This is no disease. Someone is conducting an 'experiment.']
"An 'experiment'?"
Experiment—a starkly modern, alien word in this wuxia world.
In murim, illness was illness, poison was poison, internal injury was just that. But experimenting on a human body? On Haebuk Paenga's heir, one of the Five Great Families?
'That's madness. Beyond madness.'
The unknown symptoms and 'experiment' sparked wild plots in my head—like gears meshing to spin a massive machine.
Veteran web novel neurons fired on adrenaline.
Endless plots flooded: Demonic cult human-body forging? New superweapon beyond poison humans? Parasitic curse for internal power struggles?
Which was true? Couldn't tell from scraps alone. But I'd know on-site.
More than a Murim Alliance gig, this was about my master—short bond or not, the man who'd opened the door to martial arts.
'As his disciple, I can't just hole up here, twiddling thumbs.'
I gritted my teeth.
First, commit to paper. Visualize the swirling hypotheses and plots.
Scrape.
I spread blank white paper on the desk, gripped a heavily inked brush.
"Hoo..."
Deep breath. I drew cool Hwalcheon Simgyeol qi from my dantian.
Energy flowed over shoulder, down elbow, to brush-tip like haze.
My practical compressed-labor art, cribbed from Master's overwhelming strokes and modded my way: Spectrum Brush Method!
My hand blurred into dozens of afterimages, racing across the paper in miraculous speed—not writing letters, but forcing them like stamps.
Black ink rained down, forming sentences in seconds.
[Hypothesis 1:Blood Sect remnants' body modification experiments.]
[Hypothesis 2:Sacheon Tang clan's evolved parasitic ultra-poison.]
[Hypothesis 3:Internal traitor injecting alien qi to cripple the heir.]
...
[Hypothesis 14:Mad doctor's solo act forcing qi deviation to blast meridians.]
[Hypothesis 15:Covering lethal side-effect of Paeng's signature Hunwon Pyeongnyeokgong.]
The brush flew with bone-snapping fury, jotting a dozen solid plots in a flash.
Sweat dripped from my brow, soaking the paper, but my eyes chased only the text.
Slamming down the brush, I slumped against the chairback, panting raggedly.
Before me, the once-white sheet was blackened with a dozen horrific, plausible conspiracies.
Now, the editor's turn: sift chaos for the truth-closest 'answer'.
"Alright, review time."
Veins bulging, I glared at my plots.
This was reality, not fiction. Not reader-bait twists—crucial were airtight plausibility and fidelity to world laws.
My writer's insight tolerated zero flaws.
"Blood Sect mods? Breaching Haebuk Paenga's iron defenses to reach the heir? Too forced. Rejected."
Rip!
First plot shredded mercilessly.
"Mad doc solo? The world's top Healer Jo Myeong-hwan misses it and logs 'unknown'? OOC. Rejected."
Rip!
"Covering family art side-effects? Then why summon the tight-lipped, sharp-eyed Healer deep inside? Setting error. Rejected."
Rip! Rip!
Cold logic culled flawed plots ruthlessly.
This was life-or-death deduction. Betting on contrived setups could doom me.
After suffocating pruning, amid shredded scraps, three hypotheses survived on my desk.
[Hypothesis 5:Unknown qi-eating parasite—and an insider traitor administering it.]
Insider job knowing Paeng secrets. Dantian boil = parasite force-activating and devouring qi. Lung qi = parasite waste/gas. Traitor motive?
[Hypothesis 9:Clinical trial for forbidden drug unlocking latent power.]
Ongoing doses of unfinished drug squeezing human limits. Night chills/fits = withdrawal, not disease progression?
[Hypothesis 13:Deliberate bait to kidnap the Healer.]
Heir's illness mere pretext. All symptoms engineered to pique Healer's curiosity, lure to chamber, abduct tracelessly. Why target the Healer?
"Hoo..."
I scooped up the three sheets with a deep sigh.
None were ordinary. Each led to terrifying shadows and bloody schemes.
Maybe worse than the Moyong hell-kidnapping.
But against rational warnings, deep in my heart, strange adrenaline boiled.
Writer's blood. The print addict's itch to perfect an unfinished tale.
Now, just leave this hole and eyeball the Haebuk Paenga stage myself.
"Hm?"
Glancing out the window, I let out a small gasp.
Dawn's pale light seeped through the rice paper.
"Got so focused I pulled an all-nighter without noticing."
Rubbing my stiff neck, I stood. Body heavy as lead, but time was critical.
Heir could croak anytime; Master's fate unknown.
No delay—depart now.
'Who knows what'll hit, so obviously drag those psycho fanatics along?'
Shivering at the chill down my spine, I smirked.
By my side: two 'human weapons' worth a heavenly army.
I folded the three sheets carefully, tucked deep in my bosom.
Threw on an outer robe, flung open the door without hesitation.
Straight to the women's dorm, I shouted.
"Hwangbo Suyeon! Seol Mu...!"
Bang!!!
A women's dorm door nearly shattered open.
"Master, you called?"
"Just give the order, Author-nim!"
The two women appeared perfectly ready, as if they'd waited all night for my voice alone.
"Uh... yeah. Up early, huh."
Sweating bullets inside, I kept a cool face.
"To the Murim Alliance. A request has come in."