Chapter 349
Chapter 349
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 349
Chapter Title: Northern Legend's Explanation
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Thanks to the Northern Legend's explanation, Dang Mujin and his group had a rough grasp of how the situation was unfolding. But the group still had one important issue left unresolved.
"Mujin. What are we going to do about the Kunlun Sect?"
"...Let me think about it."
Recently, the Kunlun Sect had endured great hardships.
In a short time, the sect leader had changed three times, and countless disciples had died or been crippled.
The area around the Kunlun Sect had become the main battlefield of the righteous-demonic war, forcing them to abandon their home and seek refuge near other sects.
To make matters worse, just when they thought all trials were over, the Kunlun Sect had split in two.
Moreover, the relationship between the Daoists of Kunlun Mountain and those of the main Kunlun Sect, led by Daoist Sanggwal, was undoubtedly poor—no silver lining to be found even if they looked.
At present, the Kunlun Sect was no different from any mid-tier sect, aside from its long tradition.
And now, the Kunlun Sect's final trial was approaching.
The Kunlun Daoists themselves were unaware, but the future of the Kunlun Sect now hung on the judgment of Dang Mujin and his group.
'The rumor that Baek Hyang-a has ties to the Demonic Cult has spread quietly through the Ghost King's testimony.'
Dang Mujin's group could wipe out Kunlun Mountain under the pretext that some Daoists were entangled with the Demonic Cult.
There was little worry about repercussions. The Kunlun Sect Daoists who had stayed with Daoist Sanggwal and the Valley Lord would support Dang Mujin's actions.
People would view this not as internal Kunlun strife, but as a clash between the Demonic Cult's lackeys and righteous warriors.
Their martial prowess was more than sufficient. Half a day would be enough to sweep Kunlun Mountain clean.
All conditions were met. Yet Dang Mujin still lacked conviction.
'Just because we can do it, does that make it the right choice?'
His friends waited silently for Dang Mujin to reach a conclusion.
At last, after much deliberation, Dang Mujin spoke.
"...It's better to just leave it be."
"Why? We don't know how deeply Baek Hyang-a or the Demonic Cult's pawns have infiltrated the Kunlun Sect."
"That's true. But we can't predict the aftermath."
"The aftermath? Daoist Sanggwal will cover for us—no need to worry."
"It's not about our safety."
He wasn't talking about potential consequences for himself or his friends.
Rather, it was about the unpredictable impact on the Kunlun Sect, nearby villages, and the broader relations between righteous and demonic factions.
Dang Mujin asked Hyeon-gong.
"Hyeon-gong. What do you think will happen if the Kunlun Sect vanishes?"
Hyeon-gong understood the weight of Dang Mujin's question and pondered longer than usual.
But soon enough, he shook his head as well.
"I don't know. Probably no one in the world does."
"Exactly. That's the problem."
Hong Geolgae had no particular thoughts on the matter, but Namgung Myeong was different.
Namgung Myeong asked Dang Mujin and Hyeon-gong.
"We're not talking about wiping out the entire Kunlun Sect, right? We're keeping Daoist Sanggwal and the Valley Lord's faction and just clearing out Kunlun Mountain."
"There's no guarantee the Kunlun Sect can carry on even then."
At first glance, it seemed the Kunlun Sect could rise again even after purging the mountain Daoists—like a tiny spark engulfing a great building if there's enough fuel.
But Dang Mujin was a blacksmith. He knew even embers had limits.
Too small a spark might flicker out and die. That was the Kunlun Sect's current state.
They already weren't sure if the sect could survive as is. Cutting its strength in half again—what then?
Dang Mujin and Hyeon-gong arrived at a similar conclusion.
The Kunlun Sect would likely perish. And what chaos might fill the void was anyone's guess.
Dang Mujin wrapped up the discussion neatly.
"We've stopped outside interference. The rest is for the Kunlun Sect to handle themselves."
Dang Mujin took the corpse of the color wood man, shoved it into a pit, and dripped two drops of Bone-Melting Powder.
Smoke billowed loudly from the body. But at this early hour before dawn, no one noticed.
Soon, only faint traces and scraps of clothing would remain.
After covering the body with dirt, Dang Mujin's group left Kunlun Mountain and headed north.
*
A minor incident had occurred at Kunlun Mountain, but the group's destination remained unchanged.
They headed toward the place where they said martial artists killed by Yin Cold Qi had been found—the distant north.
The season was heading into full summer, yet the path they walked grew steadily colder.
The group entered an inn, unpacked their belongings roughly, ordered food, and began chatting idly.
"Crossing the Yellow River doesn't faze me anymore."
"Me neither."
In the past, entering demonic territory beyond the Yellow River had them on edge. Now, it was just another road.
They'd crossed it more than once or twice, and nothing major ever happened.
Of course, villages grew sparse northward, and people's hearts grew stingier—that much was true.
But it wasn't due to demonic malice blanketing the land. The region simply got little rain, making farming tough, leaving pantries and minds alike barren.
With meager means and hearts, quarrels multiplied, roughening northern tempers—that was Dang Mujin's conclusion.
Listening to him, Seolhwa spoke up.
"Even empty pantries can hold generous hearts."
"Yeah?"
"Go further north into the plains, and the weather turns far harsher. Everyone wraps in thick furs. Farming's impossible, of course. But those people are kinder. They'll welcome strangers into their homes with food and shelter."
"Really? Why's that?"
"Only those who give freely survive."
Seolhwa shared tales of the far north.
Fishing from a lake only for it to freeze solid instantly. Harsh lives. Sudden blizzards.
One day in comfort, the next facing death—that was the north.
"It's cold and barren here too, but people are still scarier than nature. Further north, nature terrifies more. To survive its wrath, people must unite. They have no choice but to grow close."
As she spoke, Seolhwa snuggled right up to Hyeon-gong.
Dang Mujin's group—and even the inn's other guests—stared, but she showed no hesitation.
"..."
Lately, Hyeon-gong and Seolhwa's situation could be summed up simply.
They were getting along splendidly.
Dang Mujin still booked Seolhwa a separate room upon arriving at inns.
But he knew Hyeon-gong would sneak over later. They often vanished outside together too.
And Seolhwa was the one leading the charge. Her affections knew no restraint. Color wood folk's views on romance were something else.
While the others ate slowly, Hyeon-gong and Seolhwa wolfed down their meals.
Seolhwa grabbed Hyeon-gong's arm lightly, and he stood, announcing,
"We'll step out for some air."
Not asking permission—just informing. Not that permission was needed.
As Hyeon-gong and Seolhwa slipped out, Hong Geolgae grumbled.
"That Hyeon-gong. A Daoist, of all people, lost to feminine charms...!"
The words criticized, but the envy was plain for all to see.
Dang Mujin shook his head.
"We should understand and cheer him on. Hyeon-gong's a bachelor too. Thirty this year."
Hyeon-gong was two years older than Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae.
Men were marriage-ready at twenty, nagged to wed and carry on the line.
Martial artists delayed for training, but thirty was still late.
Hong Geolgae grumbled again.
"If Hyeon-gong's a bachelor, what am I?"
"..."
Dang Mujin had a family, Namgung Myeong had a lover. Hyeon-gong was burning hot.
But one man alone—Hong Geolgae—remained pure.
No lover, no ties to the opposite sex. He knew most Beggars' Sect members stayed unmarried. But that wasn't the future he wanted.
Dang Mujin thought long, then found fitting words.
"You're... yeah, one of a kind. Uniquely noble. How's that?"
Whether "one of a kind" meant that exactly, neither cared—both knew little of scriptures anyway.
"Call it what you want, I don't care. I just want someone by my side too..."
As the remaining group laughed and chatted, a loud voice erupted from a nearby table.
"...I saw a peerless master's martial arts! Sword drawn, and a flesh-slicing gale blew—touch of the blade, and the body shattered like ice! Kicked, and it crumbled to dust!"
A flushed, drunken merchant. He'd come from the north and western regions via camel, not horse or donkey.
He spiced his tale with vivid sound effects.
Normally dismissed as nonsense, but Dang Mujin's group couldn't ignore it. Nor could the inn's others.
Rumors of masters frozen dead had spread widely.
Dang Mujin, Namgung Myeong, and Hong Geolgae rose as one and approached. But the merchant was shifting topics.
"Oh, right, last time in the western regions..."
"Sir. Could you tell us more about that martial art you just mentioned?"
Dang Mujin cut in politely.
But drunk and squinting, the merchant scowled at them.
"Brats telling an elder what to do? Interrupting rudely while I talk...!"
"If you need payment for the tale, we'll provide. Or cover your drinks?"
A storyteller would have bowed, but the merchant bristled.
"Do I look broke? I caravan across deserts to beyond the sands!"
He boasted grandly, but his guard beside him looked uneasy.
Though Dang Mujin's group had sat in the corner, the guard had eyed them from the start.
The "caravan" claim rang true—his skills were unusually sharp.
Peak experts rarely bodyguarded merchants, no matter the pay.
The guard whispered, grabbing the merchant's arm.
"Sir, calm down. You're quite drunk."
He signaled desperately at Dang Mujin's group, pitifully.
But the merchant was too far gone to notice.
"Calm what? You mocking me? Keep it up, and my guard'll thrash you! Know how strong he is? I drag bandit heads from camel tails! Wang Ho! Wang Ho!"
Even shoving off his minder to yell for him.
Drunken antics could anger or amuse.
This was clearly the latter—the guard's desperation sold it.
"Sir! Calm down!"
"Where's Wang Ho! Wang Hoooo!"
The guard, Wang Ho, finally acted.
With a sharp kiai, he swung a fist into the merchant's jaw. The man slumped over the table.
Even Dang Mujin's group hadn't expected that.
"..."
Acupressure was gentler, but Wang Ho opted for drama to show goodwill. It worked.
Wang Ho addressed Dang Mujin's group.
"Heroes, forgive the offense. Our sir's good-hearted, but his drinking habits are awful..."
Dang Mujin waved it off.
"We're fine. But is it okay to hit your employer?"
Wang Ho relaxed at the mild tone.
"Yes. Not the first time. A true guard must act. Ignoring it risks his life—and bigger trouble."
"Our sir" rang with loyalty. No mere hire.
"Your skills seem exceptional for a guard. Unusual."
"When young, he saved me greatly. I've guarded him since, repaying the debt. If we've offended, I apologize on his behalf."
Wang Ho bowed low, humility incarnate—like Hyeon-gong with added loyalty.
"No offense taken. Anyway, about that ice art the merchant mentioned. Could we hear more details?"
"Sigh. He spoke as if he'd seen the fight, but we only found the body en route."
"Ah..."
As disappointment showed, Wang Ho continued.
"But even to me, the corpse looked unnatural. It's just a short walk outside the village—shall we check together?"
Intriguing. Dang Mujin nodded at once.
"We'd be grateful. Can you spare the time?"
"Of course. That much..."
Dang Mujin's group rose with Wang Ho and headed out.
*
"...Whew."
Summer, yet snow flurried even midday—they bundled warmly.
As Wang Ho said, the body was nearby.
A tae of lightfoot from the inn brought them there.
Wang Ho pointed to thick bushes.
"The body was in there."
A trampled path showed.
But something was off. A corpse should reek—none did.
'The cold preserving it?'
They approached. Sure enough, a body lay atop the bushes.
But its state was bizarre, plain to see.
Frozen dead turned black, then mushy and grotesque from thaw-freeze cycles.
"This..."
Reason enough for ice art rumors among laymen.
The body on the bushes was pristine—save for being shattered into pieces like broken ice.
It held form, unrotted, unblackened. The clean-frozen cross-sections looked eerie.
No need to ask Seolhwa. Weather alone couldn't do this.
Nor ordinary or even superior ice arts.
Dang Mujin thought of the Three-Eyed Devil.
'...Did a real monster appear?'