Chapter 146
Chapter 146
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 146
Chapter Title: Dang Seoryeong
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The replies from the messenger pigeons dispatched to various locations had returned.
Yeongheo unfolded the letters one by one, then let out a deep sigh.
'...What a mess.'
He had long known that the righteous sects' unity was not solid. There had been times when the Qingcheng Sect itself had responded ambiguously to requests for aid from other sects.
But after sending out the pigeons himself, this went beyond issues of tight or loose cohesion. Pathetic was a more fitting word.
The responses varied wildly.
Three sects were cooperative.
The Point Spear Sect, renowned for throwing themselves into battle without hesitation.
The Kunlun Sect, which would face the Demonic Cult first if it stirred in the west.
The Emei Sect, which found it hard to brush off Yeongheo's request as neighbors in Sichuan Province.
In other words, every sect except those three was distinctly unenthusiastic.
Yeongheo unfolded the letters again. First, the Shaolin Temple's reply.
[We appreciate the sound advice. However, we cannot leave our sect at this time, so we would prefer to meet in Henan.]
This was remarkably cooperative by comparison.
Though the subtext read, 'It'd be nice if you accommodated us, and if you need help, come to us humbly,' it at least meant they were open to hearing him out and discussing solutions.
Yeongheo opened the next letter. It was from the Kongtong Sect.
[The events in the Demonic Cult are deeply concerning, and we admire your insight. However, we hope you understand our reluctance to act rashly before all facts are clearly proven. If you have solid evidence, please present it.]
It seemed rational, but in truth, it was not. The lack of evidence was just an excuse. They simply wanted no part in something dangerous.
Still, this was understandable. The Kongtong Sect would lend a hand once the mood was right.
The problems started after that. The Nangong Clan's reply.
[We wish we could rise immediately, but our own situation is precarious, making aid difficult.]
It appeared humbly apologetic. But to grasp this letter, one had to picture the Nangong Clan's position.
The Nangong Clan in Anhui Province was the easternmost among the great sects, without exaggeration. The Moyong Clan in Liaoning Province, which sent a similar reply, sat at the northeastern edge.
In short, even if the Demonic Cult rampaged from the west and swept the Central Plains, these clans would not be engulfed in the flames unless the entire martial world of the Central Plains was utterly annihilated.
Yeongheo clicked his tongue.
The Nangong and Moyong Clans secretly hoped the Central Plains martial world would weaken. With their rivals in decline, they could expand their influence with ease.
There was no need for them to charge ahead to gain the edge in competition. Nangong Jincheon knew that letting others fall behind was a fine way to claim superiority.
And if by some chance the Demonic Cult pushed all the way to the eastern or northeastern fringes, they could leisurely join the fray then, crushing an exhausted foe and claiming glory.
'Bunch of gutless cowards.'
Several sects had not even bothered replying, pretending not to have received the pigeons.
While pigeons often fell prey to hawks, eagles, or got lost, Yeongheo had accounted for that by sending three or five to each target. Not all could have been lost.
Yeongheo's insides boiled.
Contrary to popular belief, the righteous sects' cohesion was even feebler than that of the Demonic Cult or the unorthodox sects.
The Demonic Cult had no choice but to stick together. They lived clustered near the western Tianshan Mountains, always united.
Unorthodox warriors scattered like grains of sand in normal times but would gather around Shanxi in the north or Guizhou in the south when trouble arose.
The righteous sects, however, lacked a clear center. Occupying the Central Plains' vastest expanse made it hard to pinpoint a hub. Even if they barely agreed to meet, squabbles over location were inevitable due to pride.
Imagining the scene, Yeongheo felt his chest tighten.
'This is infuriating.'
Worse still, righteous warriors resented banding together even when crisis struck. When similar sects gathered, unspoken hierarchies formed. All but the top one or two resented the bruised egos.
Yet they prattled about the need for inter-sect cooperation, forming groups like the Murim Alliance, Righteous Heaven Alliance, or regional Peace Associations.
But these were alliances in name only, empty shells. The dominant sect or clan in a region lording over a few minor ones. Bluntly put, they were neighborhood social clubs.
Yeongheo sighed.
'If only we had a proper system for swift response in times like these.'
But for now, there was no alternative.
Yeongheo grew listless too. The dismal responses from everywhere had sapped his motivation.
Besides, strictly speaking, the Qingcheng Sect had no burning crisis either. Even if the Demonic Cult stirred, Sichuan Province—ringed by high mountains—seemed impregnable. The Emei Sect would help if things got dire.
Yeongheo rose, stretching. His stiff shoulders loosened, lifting his mood.
'There's still ten years left. It'll work out somehow.'
Finally, Yeongheo thought: Even if things go wrong, it won't be my fault.
*
A little over a month after Dang Mujin returned from the Demonic Cult, an old man visited the Dang Clinic. It was the Demonic Cult's External Chief Steward, the Soul-Shattering Elder.
"Have you been well?"
Seeing Dang Mujin tense up, the Soul-Shattering Elder smiled kindly.
"Don't worry. I haven't sided with the new Cult Leader either."
"That wasn't my thought. What brings you here?"
"An old man with nothing to do came to visit. On my way back from disbanding the Demonic Cult's external branches."
"Pardon?"
"With no work left, what point is there in keeping the external branches?"
The Soul-Shattering Elder explained his situation.
Until now, as External Chief Steward, he had served as the Demonic Cult's liaison with the outside world and the Central Plains. But with the main cult ceasing all external activities, the external branches' purpose vanished.
The main cult made no demands of the branches, and without demands, support dried up.
The Elder's words held no exaggeration. The external branches had become idle organizations.
Worse, most personnel were purists who rejected the new Leader's direction, so disbanding and going their separate ways was the natural outcome.
Dang Mujin asked the Soul-Shattering Elder,
"Will you stay in Chengdu, sir?"
The Soul-Shattering Elder shook his head.
"No. I plan to wander my remaining years. I came to you to keep a promise."
"A promise?"
"Yes. Though things turned out strangely, I heard you fulfilled your role faithfully. You deserve your reward."
...What was the reward again?
It took a moment's thought to recall. The Soul-Shattering Elder had promised to reveal Salmak's base.
But Dang Mujin had forgotten about it until now.
The situation had escalated too rapidly for claiming rewards, and his gains from the Demonic Cult were substantial.
His stay there wasn't long, but he had made great strides in solo cultivation, even breaking through to peak realm.
Also—though calling it a gain was tricky—the Demonic Cult members who followed him to Chengdu had settled near the clinic. They would be reliable allies when needed.
Yet hearing of Salmak's base now made Dang Mujin's heart pound uncontrollably. How had he forgotten this?
Dang Mujin spoke politely.
"I should have come to you, but the opportunity didn't arise."
"It's fine. I'd wanted to visit Sichuan sometime. But before I tell you Salmak's location, I have a question. Why do you seek them?"
"Revenge. I can't kill every last lackey, but slaying the leader would at least sate me."
The Soul-Shattering Elder didn't ask whose revenge it was.
Instead, he stared at Dang Mujin. The old Dang Mujin couldn't have dreamed of killing Salmak's head. But this Dang Mujin seemed to have a faint shot.
The Soul-Shattering Elder liked Dang Mujin's bold spirit. It contrasted sharply with his own jaded resignation to reality.
Smiling softly, the Soul-Shattering Elder said,
"Salmak's headquarters is in Xiangyang, Hubei Province. Head to Jin Manor on the outskirts."
Dang Mujin had never been to Xiangyang in Hubei, but he knew where it was.
From Sichuan, past Zhongqing and Mount Luogun, a bit further northeast—that was Xiangyang.
A distance most never traveled in a lifetime, but Dang Mujin, accustomed to long journeys, felt it was practically next door.
Dang Mujin asked cautiously,
"Is it all right to tell me so readily? Weren't they long-time trading partners?"
"We owed each other no loyalty, and given the Demonic Cult's current state, cutting ties with Salmak seems far better."
Veiling his dissatisfaction with the current Leader, the Soul-Shattering Elder added,
"In any case, before heading to Xiangyang, ask Three-Eyed Buddha for help. He'll gladly assist, making things much easier. Not quite squashing bugs barehanded, but you could crush Salmak with some leisure."
But Dang Mujin shook his head.
"No. Revenge must come by my own hand to mean anything."
The Soul-Shattering Elder smiled, pleased by the response.
"Good thinking. But don't let others take your revenge for you."
"Understood."
"If it's dangerous, retreat and wait for the next chance. Your life is long. Opportunities will come many times. Patience is key."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Dang Mujin bowed formally with clasped fists. The Soul-Shattering Elder smiled warmly and turned to leave.
*
Dang Mujin holed up in his room, packing over two days. No one noticed—except one exception: Dang Seoryeong.
Dang Seoryeong sensed something off in his expression and seized the moment to barge into his room.
Just then, Dang Mujin had finished packing.
Dang Seoryeong didn't ask his destination or reason. She had something else to say.
"I'm coming with you!"
But Dang Mujin shook his head.
Any other time, maybe—but not this trip. It held no chance of ending peacefully.
This journey would be brutal, drawn-out, and cruel. Nothing to show Dang Seoryeong or anyone.
"No."
"I'll help!"
"What makes you think you know what I'm doing?"
"I can help with anything."
"No. Not this time."
Dang Seoryeong read his face. His mouth was set firm; his mind made up.
He'd slip away alone before taking her.
Instead, she offered a sharp compromise.
"Is it urgent?"
"Not really."
"Then go slowly. You've just returned—suddenly vanishing like this leaves me what?"
She wouldn't cling to stop him or insist on tagging along. But couldn't he take it slower?
Dang Mujin hesitated.
"...How long should I wait?"
A small smile tugged at Dang Seoryeong's lips. His resolve crumbling before her, mumbling retreat—it tickled her heart.
"I'd love if you stayed forever, but that's greedy. A month enough?"
Dang Mujin pondered. A month.
Not short, but modest given how long she'd waited.
Nor did it mean idling away a month.
As the Soul-Shattering Elder said, patience required preparation time. Sparring with Three-Eyed Buddha or Nangong Myeong for training, refining solo cultivation, crafting new hidden weapons—all possible.
Sorting his thoughts, Dang Mujin agreed readily.
"Alright. That works."
He unpacked.
Dang Seoryeong beamed, then spread her arms and approached. Dang Mujin did the same, lightly embracing her.
In the small room, they buried faces in each other's necks, breathing deeply. Each other's scent filled them. Peace settled in, then a thrill stirred in their chests.
No one watched, yet Dang Mujin suddenly felt shy.
As he released her and stood, Dang Seoryeong wagged a finger threateningly.
"If you promise this and sneak off before a month, don't expect to see me again."
"Got it."
Dang Seoryeong grinned and turned to leave.
She wasn't savvy with romance, but she knew their progress was glacially slow compared to others.
Leave that blockhead be, and who knew when they'd advance.
'I'll settle this in a month.'
Dang Seoryeong's expression turned resolute.