Shadows of the Heart Demon
Heart demon. It's the term for when the darkness hidden deep within rears its head, or when pitch-black torment coils around the mind.
Usually, once a heart demon takes hold, the end comes swiftly. If the inner evil reveals itself, one becomes a martial villain, hunted down. Otherwise, they fall into qi deviation, turning into a cripple, or drop their weapon forever.
In Danmok Hyeon-u's case, it was the latter.
His mind cultivation unsteady, he couldn't build much inner power. Unable to focus, even his fingertips trembled—a disaster.
Years of secluded training, yet he couldn't overcome it properly.
'Of course... since he believes he turned his niece into a living corpse.'
Ryeon gazed down at the pond, hands on her hips.
The water was crystal clear now, like a mirror to the bottom. Koi fish, their bodies gradually whitening, flicked their tails contentedly.
These were the koi from Danmok Hyeon-u's quarters.
After the Black Moon—now a phoenix, gone to the realm of noble spirits—incident, Ryeon stayed vigilant and didn't feed them herself. But purifying the water had revived their vitality, making them far more spirited.
'A healthy body houses a healthy spirit, after all.'
A heart demon sounded daunting, but boiled down, it was just mental anguish. Stuck alone in the dark, endlessly tormenting himself over nearly killing his niece—who could thrive in that?
A healthy body required mingling with people, conversations. Face the cause head-on, with proper exercise, sleep, and balanced meals.
'And a change of environment.'
Nothing was as fragile as human resolve and mindset. Start with the physical surroundings.
Much had already changed. Danmok Hyeon-u was brighter than when they'd first met.
But it wasn't enough.
He'd been the pharmacy master even before seclusion, with nieces Danmok Ryeon and Danmok Bi already around. In truth, his surroundings hadn't shifted at all.
"Ryeon! No flute lesson today—why're you here?"
These days, Danmok Hyeon-u beamed the moment he saw his niece.
"Uncle! I've got a favor to ask."
"Me?"
Danmok Hyeon-u scooped her up, tilting his head.
Ryeon chose her words carefully.
"Heard we're taking in branch family kids this time?"
"Yeah. That's why your aunt—my sister—has been so busy."
Danmok Hyeon-u grumbled softly.
Danmok Hyeon-yo was indeed buzzing with energy lately.
"We'll need teachers when they arrive."
"True. The estate has instructors. Even from the Yuseong Sibalsuk reserves..."
"Uncle, could you teach those kids martial arts?"
Danmok Hyeon-u's eyes widened in mild surprise.
"Me? Wouldn't the instructors do it better?"
Mastering a skill and teaching it well were worlds apart. Prestigious families kept dedicated instructors for clan arts.
Branch kids learning estate techniques fell under their purview.
"Grandpa said these new disciples will be the estate's future pillars—super important."
"He did."
Large clans often recruited new disciples yearly, branches included.
"For something this big, how about Uncle joins in? More teachers, the better, right?"
Danmok Hyeon-u shifted her in his arms, nodding.
"Fair point, but... whether I can do it well..."
"You taught me letters and flute perfectly. You'll do great with the new kids too."
He listened intently, half-believing, half-dubious, brow furrowing slightly.
"Well, I did teach you..."
That eased his mind a bit; he nodded.
Soon, faint anticipation lit his face.
"With all those kids, it'll get lively here."
"It'll be fun!"
"Hope so."
Ryeon smiled.
Danmok Hyeon-u pressed his cheek to hers, smiling softly.
Hawkers calling out, brawls over trifles, laughter and chatter—all swirled in Hangzhou's bustling marketplace.
Amid them slipped a man, quietly masking his presence. At a glance, like a street thug brushing stalls.
Mid-twenties, perhaps.
'Oh ho. Some noble young master's out for air?'
A boy servant, a nanny, and two guards shadowing from afar.
Sturdy builds, pure inner power methodically built—hallmarks of prestigious house warriors.
The man's expression twisted slyly.
'Fat and juicy, grown nice and plump.'
Born with talent, trained under masters, honed to serve nobility. Baek Ui-myeong couldn't just pass such types by.
He had to tease them once; it cleared the air.
Baek Ui-myeong glanced at the apparent young master.
A small pouch dangled from the kid's belt.
Nanny likely carried the cash, so mere trinket—but money wasn't his goal now.
He drifted like willow leaves in the breeze.
Shoulder-bumps were amateur hour. Glide by innocently, like any passerby in the market throng—swiftly claiming the prize!
A pebble from his palm, flung unseen. The merchant ahead yelped, clutching his leg, doubling over.
As onlookers glanced, Baek Ui-myeong ghosted past the young master.
A smirk curled his lips.
Of course, for assassination, this trick wouldn't cut it.
Concealing killing intent was tough even for elite assassins; no martial artist, green or not, missed it.
That's why killing murim folk was hard.
But a close brush? Easy.
His sleeve-hidden hand nabbed the tiny pouch.
All that talk of guarding the young master, true warriors need inner power—yet oblivious as he gets fleeced!
In a deserted alley, Baek Ui-myeong weighed the pouch tactilely—no peeking, deduction by feel was his thrill.
'Ooh, jade ornament? Finely carved? Decent haul. Lamb stew with thick mutton today, maybe rice wine? Loads of Sichuan pepper in the broth...'
Mood soaring.
"Gah! Ack! Urk!"
'What the—damn it, what is this?!'
Soaring, until it wasn't.
Baek Ui-myeong curled tight, minimizing the hits.
"Urk! Ack!"
Thwack! Pow-pow!
"H-Hey! Ack! Talk, let's talk, please!"
Lamb stew dreams, humming along the alley—then a small boy appeared.
The servant kid from the young master's side, obvious at once.
Tear mole under left eye; he'd stared long, gauging if the cute boy was companion or what.
An ominous chill crawled his spine.
Steal from the master, then bump his servant in an empty alley.
"Huh? Kid, lost?"
"Lost? That's you. Waited forever. Dumbass? Turn at that corner, you're here direct."
"Wh-What...?"
He tried casual chat, but the kid's blunt banmal made veins bulge on his forehead.
Cautious unease ignited.
The boy extended his hand.
"Hand it over."
"Brat mouthing off to an adult."
Baek Ui-myeong snorted.
The boy sighed.
"Give it while I'm asking nice. Busy."
Looking back, the kid likely never planned words.
Blunt banmal was pure provocation.
Baek Ui-myeong sneered, fist raised threateningly.
"Pipsqueak, no fear of grown-ups?!"
Yet the boy scanned him head to toe, tsking.
Looked under ten, but acted older.
"Tsk tsk... Admire the grit, not quitting despite knowing better. But just external arts? Real idiot?"
Anger? No, chills first.
'Knowing better, yet not quitting'—ice water doused his mind.