Sect Leader Jang Un could not find sleep.
A sorrowful day had passed—one in which countless disciples had been lost. And all through it he had struggled not to be swept along by Cheonma Sword's schemes.
"Phew. Come to think of it, Bingbong truly is remarkable. To rise to the position of Military Advisor of the Martial Alliance at only twenty-seven—that was no mere luck."
He clicked his tongue, recalling Bingbong's words earlier in the great hall. Her expression was too cold, which was her only flaw, but she was still an exceptional beauty. And the more he thought on it, the more astonishing her stratagems seemed.
"She'll become Chief Strategist of the Martial Alliance one day. A woman as Chief Strategist… ha ha. She will write new history."
As he changed clothes, a memory of the letter Bingbong had once sent him suddenly came to mind.
When he emerged from three days of closed-door training, two letters had arrived via carrier pigeon.
One from the head of the Dokgo clan, the other from Bingbong.
He had, without thought, opened Bingbong's first.
Its contents had been quite perplexing.
She warned him not to believe what the Dokgo clan head's letter contained—words supposedly written by a young man named Cheon Ryuyeong, who had recently gained the epithet Wulin Scholar. The Martial Alliance, she wrote, suspected him to be a spy of the Demon Cult, and advised utmost caution.
"A spy of the Demon Cult…"
A sudden curiosity stirred within him.
At the time, he had dismissed it, thinking there was no need to cloud his heart with such words. But now, he felt he could read it without harm. What sort of persuasion had that supposed spy tried to lay upon him?
And back then, he had not yet heard rumors of the Wulin Scholar. Now, however, he had heard much from many mouths.
"Wulin Scholar. Is he truly a spy? Or is he truly a genius, as the rumors say?"
Muttering, Jang Un drew out a wooden chest from beneath the bedside table. It was where he kept the letters sent to him.
Opening the lid, he quickly found the letter sent by the Dokgo clan head—or rather, the one written by that young man, Cheon Ryuyeong.
He unfolded the neatly folded slip. At the start was a brief introduction of Cheon Ryuyeong, written by the Dokgo clan head. He had already heard such things in rumors.
Yet strangely, it felt different.
Rumors were not easy to believe. But the Dokgo clan head, famed for his prudence, had written with deep sincerity, imploring that Ryuyeong's words be given serious heed.
"Hmm. The Dokgo clan head is utterly taken in by this Wulin Scholar. If he's truly a spy, the Dokgo clan head is in grave danger."
He muttered calmly and continued to read. As he did, his face paled, his cheeks twitched, and even the hand holding the letter trembled.
"This cannot be…!"
He leapt up from his bed.
[…Therefore, two matters must be guarded against. First: Though Cheongseong Sect has many swordsmen, its secular disciples are scattered across six villages. The Cheonma Sword or Demon Cult will most likely strike at one of these first, in order to throw your sect into chaos. Thus, it is best to summon the secular disciples into Cheongseong Mountain to remain together until Jeomchang Sect arrives.]
Jang Un clenched his teeth.
If only he had read this first… those two hundred and fifty disciples would not have died so needlessly.
His eyes moved to the next part.
[Second: Guard Cheongseong Mountain as though behind iron walls. Question not only strangers, but even familiar faces—lest they wear human-skin masks. If an enemy—especially a great master—slips inside unnoticed, the harm they could do is immeasurable. It would be like baring your heart to their dagger. Even the invincible Sichuan Branch was toppled because the enemy was within. Such danger must be preemptively blocked. Never admit anyone into Cheongseong Mountain unless they are verified beyond doubt. Even corpses must be inspected thoroughly before being brought in.]
Jang Un's eyes froze on the last line.
"Even corpses must be… inspected…"
Perhaps Cheon Ryuyeong had only meant it as a metaphor for vigilance. But somehow, it fit eerily with the present situation.
Shudder.
His body trembled violently. A chilling realization crossed his mind.
The families of the dojo in Udun-ri had vanished.
Why?
At first he thought they had been taken as slaves. But reflecting calmly, that was unlikely. The frenzied Demon Cult usually killed those who were in the way. It was simpler.
But Cheonma Sword had not killed them—he had taken them. Even at the risk of leaving a trail.
Two possibilities arose.
First: unlike other cultists, Cheonma Sword cared for justification. He might have refrained from killing the untrained.
And second…
Jang Un shut his eyes and shivered again.
"Ahh…"
A sigh slipped out.
One hundred eighty corpses of secular disciples. Few remembered every face. The ones who could identify them were gone.
He drew a deep breath, then flung open the chamber door. With all his might, he roared:
"Emergency!"
The sleeping Cheongseong Sect was jolted awake by the Sect Leader's thunderous cry.
Martial Alliance Sichuan Branch.
Though it was late at night, a few candles still burned in the council chamber.
The Young Lord of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, Nok Ak-Cheon, sat gazing at the stone pagoda before him.
Beside him, the Supreme Elder Blood Priest, the cult's elders, and the leaders of the Black Heaven Lotus—Sa Hyeolgang and Ma Bul—were also staring at the pagoda.
No one spoke.
The air was thick with unease.
At last, the suffocating silence was broken by sounds outside.
"Subordinate Heukya reporting. May I enter?"
Nok Ak-Cheon leapt up unconsciously, then slowly exhaled and sat back down.
"Enter."
Clatter.
The sliding door opened, and a middle-aged man in black stepped inside. Bowing low, he began:
"Heukya greets the Supreme Elder and—"
Blood Priest cut him off.
"Enough. What news?"
Heukya grinned.
"The stone pagoda of the Tang Clan—we have finally made contact and entered within."
Relief washed across the faces of all present.
The Supreme Elder Blood Priest smiled broadly and nodded.
"Well done. Go and rest."
"By your command."
The black-clad man departed.
Then Nok Ak-Cheon, his face alight with exhilaration, declared:
"Victory is in sight."
The Blood Priest nodded, his gaze on the stone pagoda.
"Yes. Now all that remains is to shatter the pagoda—at once."
Elder Hwang maggaek added,
"We must complete our preparations for the campaign."
Elder Mong hyeol bi stretched with a giddy laugh.
"Heh heh. I thought I'd die of boredom, hiding all this time. At last, we shall show the world the might of the Black Path."
Deputy Master Ma Bul of the Demon Sound Division and Lord Sa Hyeolgang of the Four Hells Palace also nodded, wicked smiles twisting their lips.
Clatter!
The wheel of a four-wheeled carriage struck a rock.
The driver, Yaksha Sword Jo Jeonhu, flinched and swallowed hard.
Sure enough, the carriage window slid open and Dokgo Seol poked her head out.
"Uncle!"
"Miss, driving a carriage in this dark pre-dawn is no simple task."
"The eastern sky is already brightening. And what's the point of having inner force if you don't use it? Heighten your sight with qi."
"Miss, really now. You would have a master like me waste my inner power on… this?"
Her voice sharpened.
"What good is being a master? You're the one who dismissed Young Master Cheon's signal of danger as some festival."
"..."
"And now you can't even drive a carriage properly."
Jo Jeonhu's face crumpled as he grumbled,
"You wound me, Miss. Even great generals say mistakes are common in war. I grieved for Young Master Cheon as much as anyone. Why must you torment me so? And while we're on the subject—it was I who sent Pyeong-U."
"Fine. Just drive more carefully."
"Yet when I drive carefully, who was it that complained I was too slow?"
At his retort, Dokgo Seol fell silent.
"…Sorry. I've been too on edge."
With her apology, Jo Jeonhu straightened his hunched shoulders.
"I understand. I, too, am troubled by Young Master Cheon's condition. Speaking of which… how is he?"
"It's the same. He keeps sleeping. How can he not wake even once while riding in this carriage… oh? He woke up?"
From behind her words came Cheon Ryu Yeong's voice.
"It would be strange not to wake, with you shouting like that."
"Hohoho. Is that so?"
"It's night again."
"The night's already passed. It's dawn now. In fact, that's why I raised my voice. We should stop a while and eat some porridge. Food gives strength."
No sooner had she spoken than Jo Jeonhu brought the carriage to a halt.
He turned and shouted to the subordinates trailing behind.
"Time to eat! Bring the wine, too—Zhuyupcheong!"
Dokgo Seol opened the carriage door and stepped out.
"You seem rather delighted."
"Ha ha ha. Young miss, I've been driving this carriage fourteen whole hours without sleep, surviving only on dried meat and rations."
"True. You've worked hard. But thanks to that, we should reach Geomhyangjang in three or four hours."
Cheon Ryu Yeong stepped down from the carriage. He drew a deep breath, then smiled faintly.
"I'm hungry."
Dokgo Seol smiled back.
"It would be strange if you weren't. Wait just a moment, I'll make some porridge right awa—"
But she froze mid-sentence.
Damn it! I can't cook! Porridge? How do you even make that? Why did I even open my mouth like that?
She was flustered, unsure how to take back her words. Fortunately, Cheon Ryu Yeong seemed oblivious to her panic.
"No, rather than porridge, I'd prefer plain rice."
Jo Jeonhu, using his flint to spark a fire, chimed in.
"Aye, rice it is. Young master Cheon, porridge won't give you strength. Eat rice."
"Yes, that was my intention."
"And with it, a little Zhuyupcheong?"
Dokgo Seol snapped at him instantly.
"Uncle!"
But Cheon Ryu Yeong interjected.
"I'll have just one cup."
Dokgo Seol's eyes blazed in disbelief, while Jo Jeonhu blinked, dumbfounded that Cheon Ryu Yeong would even drink.
"Ah—no, ha ha ha. Wine? That was a joke."
"No. I'm serious. Do we have any meat?"
He approached Jo Jeonhu as he asked. Dokgo Seol tilted her head, concerned.
"Wait… you're not in pain?"
"No. The aches are gone. After a deep sleep, I feel light and well."
"Truly?"
Her face brightened. Cheon Ryu Yeong nodded.
"My lower back's a bit stiff, but…"
Jo Jeonhu shot up and barked seriously:
"The back—you must be careful with the back!"
"Ah, yes."
"For women it's the face, for men it's the back."
Cheon Ryu Yeong tilted his head.
"Is that a saying?"
Jo Jeonhu's face stiffened, a faint twitch at his eye. Cheon Ryu Yeong shrugged lightly.
"Well, if you said it, it must be."
"Ha ha ha. I like you, young master Cheon. You're not rigid, you're relaxed. That's how a person should be. I dislike stiff-necked folk. Anyway, just wait a bit. I'll whip up rice and meat in no time."
"Thank you. I keep being in your debt."
"Think nothing of it. For now, take a rest. That big rock there will serve you well."
Cheon Ryu Yeong moved to the spot Jo Jeonhu pointed out and leaned against the boulder. Dokgo Seol trotted after him, standing at his side.
"You really are all right?"
"I wouldn't say fully recovered, but I truly feel much better. To the point I'm a little surprised myself."
"That's a relief."
Their conversation ended there, as the eastern sky suddenly transformed.
Black and gray swirled together, then yellow shimmered on the horizon. Slowly it deepened into orange, until at last a crimson sun rose abruptly above the edge of the earth.
Watching the dawn unfold, Dokgo Seol murmured,
"Beautiful."
"Yes."
"Don't worry about your mother and younger sister. The escorts will see them safely home."
"Yes."
"You'll have time to reunite with them later."
"Yes."
His curt answers irked her. She turned to scold him—
And saw his face bathed in sunlight.
Cheeks glowing, eyes sparkling like stars.
In those small eyes were sorrow, pain, and suffering—yet also anticipation, excitement, and wonder.
Dokgo Seol caught her breath, her chest tightening.
She swallowed and asked softly,
"What are you thinking?"
Cheon Ryu Yeong, gaze fixed on the rising sun, answered in his calm, resonant voice:
"The martial world."
"…!"
"I was thinking of what I must do within it."
"Are you afraid of living in the martial world?"
Cheon Ryu Yeong shook his head.
"Wherever one lives, life is suffering and fear. But I have no thought of running. I'm not afraid."
"..."
"Yet even having chosen the martial world, one fear remains."
"And that is?"
"Facing the Cheonma Sword."
Dokgo Seol nodded slowly.
She remembered their first meeting—how he had plainly said he would flee the Cheonma Sword if possible. Clearly, some bond tied the two.
Cheon Ryu Yeong smiled faintly at the sun.
"I won't run from him."
"..."
"To fear someone—or something… perhaps life itself is the struggle to confront and overcome such fears."
"Yes…"
Cheon Ryu Yeong turned his gaze to her.
"I lack much. That is why I ask for your help. Alone, I can accomplish nothing. I need you, Lady Dokgo. And those who are with us must also support one another—so that in hardship, we can lean on each other for strength."
For a moment, Dokgo Seol nearly lifted her hand to touch his face.
He shone.
His face radiated light—so dazzling that just looking at him brought tears to her eyes.
She smiled brightly, her heart overflowing.
"Then I ask you as well—help me, too."
And then, from atop the boulder, Jo Jeonhu's booming voice cut in.
"Cheon. Ryu. Yeong. Young master Cheon—I ask the same."
The subordinates trailing behind stepped out as well.
"I ask, too."
"And I."
"Ha ha ha, don't leave me out!"
They all looked to one another and laughed, nodding in turn.
On this very day—
Whatever terrifying trials awaited them ahead, in this moment they laughed together, hearts blazing.