Demonic religion
Tang Mujin followed Swehon Noong and Sam Anbul toward the mountainside. Contrary to his imagination of a place teeming with criminals and vicious men, what unfolded before him was the sight of an ordinary city.
"It's a little different from what I expected."
"Everyone says that the first time they come here."
Tang Mujin looked around. Nine out of ten people looked ordinary, yet there were details that set this place apart from other cities.
The first noticeable difference was the atmosphere—far more free and lively than a normal city. Perhaps it was because many here disliked restraints and could not endure rules.
Also, there were many people who looked strong, or who walked with the gait of those trained in martial arts.
As Tang Mujin, Swehon Noong, and Sam Anbul walked side by side, everyone on the street turned to look at them.
More precisely, all eyes were drawn to Sam Anbul. He was a man who embodied every element that demanded attention: his massive physique, fierce face, martial renown, and famous name.
Their gazes passed from Sam Anbul to Swehon Noong, and finally stopped on Tang Mujin.
People seemed to wonder why a young man like Tang Mujin was walking among such masters. Of course, no one was bold enough to step forward and ask.
Swehon Noong spoke to Sam Anbul.
"Always roaming outside the cult grounds, but it feels good to be back after so long."
"It's not as if anyone forbids you from coming in. Why not return more often?"
"My duty lies outside, so staying out is the way I fulfill it. Anyway, since I'm here, I should pay respects to the Cult Leader."
"Do so."
Swehon Noong gave Tang Mujin a light nod, then disappeared somewhere into the town.
Tang Mujin asked Sam Anbul,
"The Cult Leader—that's the highest authority in the Demonic Cult, isn't it?"
"That's right."
"And yet he mingles among the others?"
"He's a simple-natured man. And right now, he cannot return to the Cult Leader's Hall."
"Why is that?"
"That's the very matter for which you've been summoned."
Sam Anbul strode ahead with long steps, and Tang Mujin hurried to follow.
They were heading out of the town, up a mountain slope leading to Mount Cheonsan. A wide, well-kept path stretched up the incline, yet not a single soul walked it.
"A road without people? Strange."
"It used to be busy. Most who held high or low positions in the Demonic Cult lived up there."
Sam Anbul halted and asked,
"Do you sense anything?"
Tang Mujin looked around. Nothing unusual—just forest and road.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. The fresh scent of trees and grass filled his lungs, along with the crisp mountain air.
But that couldn't be why Sam Anbul had asked. Tang Mujin focused more intently.
Then, faintly within his lungs, he sensed a thin thread of poison. Not strong enough to kill a healthy adult or martial artist—only dangerous to the elderly or sick.
Yet Tang Mujin's face grew serious, because he couldn't tell where it came from.
Poison spreading through the air, not water or soil? Unless it was unimaginably deadly, or spread in overwhelming quantities, such a thing shouldn't be possible.
"There's poison in the air."
As he muttered, Sam Anbul's eyes widened.
"You can sense it from this far away?"
"…Didn't you expect me to?"
"Half in jest. For a first-class martial artist, your senses are exceptionally sharp."
The phrasing irked him. Tang Mujin frowned slightly, and Sam Anbul pressed further.
"Can you tell what kind of poison it is?"
Tang Mujin inhaled again, testing its effect.
Unfamiliar, yet distinct—so peculiar it could not be mistaken for anything else.
"I've never felt this poison before. But it's extremely strange."
"What's strange about it?"
"Normally, poison seeps into bones, flesh, and organs. This one does as well, but it doesn't stop there."
Tang Mujin spoke half to himself.
"Like smoke from pine resin mixing with air, this poison tries to merge with inner energy. It seems to block meridians, or scatter qi. I can't say for certain yet, since the presence is faint."
"You can sense even that? Remarkable…"
Tang Mujin saw tremendous potential in this poison.
Martial artists could use inner energy to resist poison spreading in their bodies. Poison experts like Goiyi-ui could even draw it out and bleed it from wounds, and top masters like Sam Anbul could gather and expel it entirely.
But this poison fused with inner energy itself. To drive it out, one must circulate qi—but if poison burrowed into the qi, how could it be purged? A fiendishly troublesome poison, one whose cure might not even exist.
'To think such a poison exists…'
The promised rewards from Sam Anbul and Swehon Noong faded in his mind. This poison might be the greatest prize the Demonic Cult could offer him.
'Had I possessed this during my last fight with Sam Anbul, the result might have been different.'
At that thought, he felt Sam Anbul's piercing gaze on him, as though the man could read his mind.
Tang Mujin hurriedly changed the subject.
"By the way, where is this poison coming from?"
"I'll show you. Follow me."
After walking a short distance, Sam Anbul stopped.
"Hold your breath."
Tang Mujin inhaled deeply, and Sam Anbul tucked him under his arm.
Then, like the wind, he dashed up the path.
At the road's end, the view opened to reveal dozens of grand pavilions. Not a soul moved, which made the architecture stand out even more.
'So this is the main compound of the Demonic Cult.'
Sam Anbul pointed to the largest and tallest structure.
"Look there."
Its plaque bore the words [Cult Leader's Hall]. And perched atop its high roof was a giant bird.
'That is…?'
Though he had never seen one in person, Tang Mujin recognized it.
The Compendium of Demonic Poisons contained hand-drawn illustrations, and among them was this bird. As large as a man, with emerald-green feathers: the Zim Bird.
It was said to live only on poisonous things, its body filled with venom unlike any other bird. So toxic that crops beneath its flight were said to wither and die.
Still holding Tang Mujin under his arm, Sam Anbul returned them swiftly to where they had started.
Only then did he exhale heavily, as though he had not breathed the entire time. Truly, his lung capacity was monstrous.
Tang Mujin asked,
"That bird—wasn't it a Zim Bird?"
"Correct. You know of it?"
Tang Mujin nearly answered, "I saw it in the Compendium of Demonic Poisons," but bit his tongue. That was not something he could reveal lightly, lest he lose his head. Instead, he gave a vague reply.
"Yes. I came to know of it by chance."
"You're more knowledgeable than you look. That makes talking easier. Not long after the Demonic Doctor died, that creature perched itself atop the Cult Leader's Hall. It must be driven away, but there's no way to do it. Approaching is difficult enough, and if anyone manages to push through the poison, the bird senses it and flees in an instant."
"I see."
"The most urgent and important task I want to ask of you is to drive that Zim Bird away."
The problem was, Tang Mujin also had no idea how to do that. The Compendium of Demonic Poisons only contained records of the bird's venomous properties and how to use its poison—nothing about repelling it.
When Tang Mujin looked troubled, Sam Anbul encouraged him with a firm pat on the back from his massive hand.
"Don't worry. You won't be doing this alone. There's a girl who once studied the Demonic Doctor's poison arts—work with her to find a solution."
Sam Anbul then led Tang Mujin to a small cave. It was short and sloped slightly downward. Being quite a distance from the pavilion where the Zim Bird had nested, the air inside was free from poison.
At the cave's end stood a wooden door, separating inside from outside, with the words "Poison Den (독혈)" painted upon it. A straightforward name.
"Do your best. If you need help, come find me."
With that, Sam Anbul hunched away, leaving Tang Mujin to his task.
After a moment's hesitation, Tang Mujin opened the door.
Creak—
The rusted hinges shrieked, and inside, a woman turned her head toward him.
She looked to be around his age, perhaps a year or two older. Her skin was so pale it seemed almost bloodless, and her face was finely drawn with delicate lines.
Raising one eyebrow, she asked,
"What do you want?"
"Elder Sam Anbul told me to come here."
She stared at Tang Mujin for a moment, then abruptly turned away and resumed her work.
'…What's this?'
On his way to the Demonic Cult, Tang Mujin had imagined the Demonic Doctor's laboratory many times.
In his imagination, it was a grand pavilion crowded with disciples of the Demonic Doctor, all vying to ask him questions.
But the reality was the opposite. No grand pavilion, no disciples, and only a curt, "What do you want?" as greeting.
Tang Mujin sat down in a corner, thinking,
'Maybe she's busy. She'll introduce herself sooner or later.'
He waited quietly, watching both the cave's interior and the woman's back.
But even after half an hour passed, she showed no sign of acknowledging him—almost as if she'd forgotten he existed.
"Hey, is there anything I can help with?"
At last Tang Mujin broke the silence. After all, the faster he finished here, the sooner he could return home.
But she gave no reply. For someone who hadn't come by choice but to help, he wondered if this treatment was really fair.
With a shrug, Tang Mujin leaned against the wall and dozed off.
After all, he had been moving tirelessly and hadn't yet recovered from lingering fatigue, so sleepiness was inevitable.
He didn't know how long he slept before being startled awake by a loud crash.
Clatter—!
He lifted his head.
A porcelain jar had shattered on the ground, spilling what seemed to be a transparent green liquid. Since the floor was natural stone, not wood or soil, it didn't seep in.
A faint acrid scent of poison filled the air.
The woman, frowning in annoyance, slipped on leather gloves, picked up a bundle of snow-white goat wool, and crouched down, muttering,
"Damn it… that was the last bottle."
As she lowered the wool toward the poison, Tang Mujin spoke up.
"What are you doing?"
This time, she actually responded—though irritably.
"I'm already pissed off, don't talk to me."
"You've made me sit here all this time and now you're annoyed? The least you could do is explain."
"I'm busy. If I want to salvage even a few drops, I need to hurry."
"…Wait. You're planning to soak up the poison with that wool?"
"Yeah. I can squeeze out a few drops later."
Tang Mujin shuddered and quickly nudged her aside.
She instinctively shifted away, and without hesitation, Tang Mujin dipped his right index finger into the green poison.
The woman's eyes widened in horror.
"Hey! Do you even know what that is? Get your hand out!"
But the liquid began to seep into Tang Mujin's fingertip. Watching in disbelief, her voice faltered to a whisper.
"You'll be poisoned…"
In the blink of an eye, the spilled liquid vanished, absorbed entirely.
Tang Mujin glanced at her. To think she was surprised by something like this? For someone who dealt with poison, she didn't seem to have much mastery.
It struck him then—aside from Goiyi-ui, he had never seen or even heard of anyone else possessing true Poison Mastery (Dokdan). Perhaps it was far rarer than he had assumed.
Still, he concealed this realization and spoke indifferently,
"I thought it must've been some terrible poison from the way you panicked. But it's only spotted toad poison (banmyo). Rare enough that even killing a hundred yields barely a drop, so it's impressive you gathered this much."
He tapped the Demonic Doctor's disciple on the shoulder and gestured.
"Bring me a clean jar."
Subdued by Tang Mujin's confidence, she obediently fetched a new porcelain jar.
Tang Mujin held his fingertip over it, and drops of the transparent green liquid fell one by one into the jar.
Though some had splashed earlier, nearly all of the poison was restored to the vessel.
The disciple stared blankly at the sight.
Tang Mujin, noticing her expression, grinned.
"Well? Think that'll be useful?"
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