The Revelation
Ju Tae-sung’s decision had not been made overnight.
He was, after all, the undisputed ruler of Gangseo and the lord of the Ju family.
He had long since noticed the changes in Woo-jin—both in his demeanor and his actions.
Moreover, there were the unsettling incidents unfolding around his youngest son.
The attempted poisoning of Yu Ha-rin.
The poison that had leaked from a merchant caravan led by the Shanxi Yu family.
The slaying of a demonic cultivator atop Okhwa Mountain.
The movements of demonic cultivators near Kunlun Mountain.
And even the exposure of a traitor within the Tang family.
All of it had been Woo-jin’s doing.
They shared one common thread.
Demonic cultivators.
In the end, Woo-jin had been hunting their traces.
Yet to Ju Tae-sung, his son’s actions bordered on madness.
The obsession was too intense, too consuming.
It was as if something were relentlessly pursuing him.
Every waking moment was spent thinking, worrying, and training—aside from the bare minimum of sleep and meals.
While admirable, it also stirred deep concern.
What exactly is that demonic qi?
It was an energy he could not identify.
The moment he saw Woo-jin enter the Sword Soul Hall, he had witnessed the massive, coiled mass of energy within his son’s dantian.
Even the Sword Sovereign of the world had felt a tremor at its presence—an energy so pure, so transcendent.
Yet its foundation was unmistakably demonic qi.
Ju Tae-sung had observed his son closely.
Woo-jin showed no strange behavior, no signs of qi deviation, so he had remained silent.
He had never once taken his eyes off the boy.
What kind of son was he?
A precious child born late in life after Ju Tae-sung had defied the family’s opposition to marry Yu Ha-rin.
Though he claimed to love all his children equally, he could not help but feel a deeper attachment to Woo-jin.
His marriage to Namgung I-hwa had been purely political, devoid of affection.
Pressured by the family’s anxiety over succession, he had fathered Ju Seung-hyeok and Ju Seung-gyeong, then set Yu Ha-rin aside.
Just when he had given up hope, Woo-jin was born.
Then disaster struck at the Zhushan Archipelago.
A demonic cultivator had provoked even Ju Tae-sung’s temper.
And not an ordinary one—their power had been overwhelming enough that even he could not subdue them easily.
If he fell, the family would end.
He could no longer delay.
I will train Seung-hyeok and Woo-jin.
Ju Seung-hyeok, the eldest with talent for martial arts.
And Ju Woo-jin, who had squandered his youth on drink and women yet still possessed extraordinary potential.
They were similar yet different.
Seung-hyeok had talent, a warm heart, and the magnanimity to embrace everyone.
Woo-jin, on the other hand, was coldly pragmatic and rational, much like his father.
Once fixated on something, he analyzed every angle and pursued it with relentless obsession.
If the two could harmonize, they would undoubtedly become a formidable sword and shield.
Ju Tae-sung believed they could be trusted with the family even in his absence.
Then came an unexpected twist.
“Hah… Tae-hwi, of all people.”
Woo-jin had chosen to learn the sword not from him, but from his youngest uncle—the Blood Sovereign.
Ju Tae-sung attributed it to their distant relationship.
He had given Woo-jin freedom, only for the distance between them to grow.
Every attempt to close the gap had failed.
Let’s take it slow.
Only now did he realize that the son he had thought of as a child had been fighting demonic cultivators alone all this time.
From this moment on, he would make sure Woo-jin knew he was no longer alone.
I had a clear reason for asking my youngest uncle to teach me the sword.
The same martial art could manifest vastly different power depending on the practitioner.
My father had mastered the orthodox Ju family sword art in its purest form, while my uncle wielded a brutally refined, battle-hardened version honed on the front lines.
There was another reason.
If I learned the sword from my father, it could throw the family into chaos.
Currently, the succession clearly pointed toward Ju Seung-hyeok, the Sword Dragon.
Though his support was somewhat weak, he possessed something no one else did—the status of the eldest son.
Most families passed leadership to the firstborn, and the Ju family was no exception.
Learning from my father would shatter that framework and intensify the internal power struggles.
“Hoo… Let’s go.”
Having made my decision, I headed for the gold mine.
Ju Tae-sung and the Yellow Dragon Unit were preparing to return to the family estate.
Taking advantage of the moment, Muyoung and I ventured deep into the mine.
Something’s definitely off.
I hadn’t noticed it during the day, but now the sensation was unmistakable.
A subtle energy rising from the soles of my feet.
At first, I thought it was merely the death qi lingering from the corpses buried here.
But it was different in nature.
It felt as though something artificial had been created and then removed.
A trace of a formation, perhaps.
Something had been here.
The deeper we went, the stronger the energy became.
Muyoung, however, seemed to feel nothing.
He merely looked around with curious eyes.
How much farther had we gone?
We passed the plaza where we had encountered the corpses and descended further along the tunnel.
The air grew thin, the pressure different from the surface.
Then I saw it.
“Found it.”
A single statue, identical to the divine statue that had stood in the village.
Roughly carved from wood, it looked ancient—filthy, scratched, and chipped.
The moment I touched it, the faint demonic qi swirling inside scattered.
The presence of demonic qi was solid proof that Sa-an Gwi-gun had been here.
“It’s a statue. The miners must have carved it out of boredom.”
Muyoung dismissed it lightly.
But would miners, busy extracting gold, have had time for such a thing?
I slowly set the statue down.
With the demonic qi gone, there was nothing more to see.
Then it happened.
Crack!
The moment the aged statue touched the ground, it split with a loud fracture.
Something pale peeked through the crack.
“What’s this?”
I pulled it out with my fingertips.
A single rolled-up sheet of paper.
It was torn in places and so worn it was nearly falling apart.
I carefully unfolded it.
It was a kind of diary.
Sa-an Gwi-gun.
The moment I read the first words, I knew exactly who had written it.
And in that instant, my suspicions turned to certainty.
Sa-an Gwi-gun wanted to destroy the Zhushan Archipelago.
More precisely, he wanted to kill everyone living there.
He had his reasons.
His parents had brought the young Sa-an Gwi-gun here in search of work.
The people of the archipelago had welcomed the family, who had neither skills nor possessions.
They even built them a house and collected food and living expenses to help them get by.
His parents had been grateful, calling them kind people.
Yes, they had been good people.
Until that day…
The gold mined here sold rapidly across the Central Plains—to artisans making ornaments, jewelers crafting accessories, and even gamblers on the battlefield.
Gold was used everywhere.
Thus, the island was quite wealthy.
The Ju family paid fair compensation—sums impossible to earn elsewhere.
But misfortune struck quickly.
Black Path groups swept through like locusts.
When they left and things calmed, pirates took their place.
Before money, they had neither blood nor tears.
When trouble came, people dropped their pickaxes and fled to their hiding spots.
Even if caught, there was little worry—they would be beaten, not killed.
But Sa-an Gwi-gun and his parents knew none of this.
His parents died here.
They had fought desperately to protect the Ju family’s gold, to repay the kindness that had saved their worthless lives.
His father was beaten to death resisting the Black Path cultivators.
His mother’s screams were drowned out by the waves.
He still remembered clearly the pirate who grabbed her hair and sneered,
“This bitch is still breathing? Kekeke.”
In that moment, the small boy, hiding behind a rock, met his mother’s eyes.
Don’t cry. Run.
That desperate, final gaze.
As it faded into the sea, the boy dug into the ground until his nails tore off.
No one helped.
That day, the boy and the world both died.
It was cruel.
If only someone had warned them.
If only they had been taken to a hiding place.
His parents wouldn’t have died so meaninglessly.
Why?
Sa-an Gwi-gun, not yet ten years old, asked the question dozens of times.
Why did they have to die?
Why did no one save them?
Why had the once-warm people locked their doors that night and simply watched?
That “why” piled up and forged a sharp sword in his heart.
When he looked at them with that sword in hand, he saw the uglier monsters hidden behind their gentle smiles.
Whether they had deliberately withheld the information or simply forgotten no longer mattered.
Sa-an Gwi-gun left the archipelago that day.
When he returned, it was with the vow to slaughter them all.
“So he tried to kill them all.”
The diary was neither short nor long.
It contained every ounce of Sa-an Gwi-gun’s resentment and grudge.
…I understood.
Hadn’t I also lost everything in my past life and lived half out of my mind?
I had spent my entire life with only one thought—to kill the Demon Cult and the Heavenly Demon.
And I still did.
Now the reason Sa-an Gwi-gun had targeted the Black Horn and the Ju family was clear.
I stood up.
Not many merchant groups passed through here.
Perhaps I could catch Sa-an Gwi-gun’s tail after all.
We returned from the Zhushan Archipelago to the family estate.
With the lord’s return, the atmosphere shifted.
Long-pending matters were resolved in an instant.
Third wife Namgung I-hwa and second young master Ju Sang-jin had both recovered and returned to their quarters.
Of course, neither offered me so much as a word of thanks.
“I didn’t expect it, but it’s still irritating.”
What was this bitter feeling?
It felt like wasted effort.
I had a long talk with Danhui after so long.
She was helping Yakseon at the Insujeon.
Given the Ju family’s ties to the underworld, injuries among the guards were frequent.
In that regard, Yakseon and Danhui were invaluable.
While I was away at the archipelago, Yakseon’s granddaughter had finally entered the estate.
Yakseon had begun researching how to remove the gu poison from her body.
“Everyone’s busy.”
“Ah, young master.”
Just then, Danhui spoke up.
“A woman named Yeo Mong has been looking for you.”
“Yeo Mong?”
The leader of the Black King Sect?
“Yes. She’s a woman… I’ve lost count of how many times she’s visited.”
“Ah, is that so?”
So she had decided to take my hand after all.
Then it was time to meet my new eyes.
“Heh.”
Things seemed to be going smoothly.
Watching my plans fall into place one after another…
“Well then… time to begin.”
I took out the carriage fragment I had kept in my robes.
I intended to compare it with the carriages of the merchant groups passing through the Zhushan Archipelago.
Of course, before that…
I would need to test the Black King Sect’s capabilities.