Chapter 19 Around that time, the situation in their surroundings began to shift in a peculiar way.
The inns that had been calling out to attract customers began sending people away one by one. Some even shut their doors while guests were still inside.
At first, it was only two or three inns. Later, even the large and small taverns alike closed up shop entirely. All of it happened in less than a quarter of an hour after they stepped onto the street.
"At this hour, for all the inns to suddenly close and refuse customers… something's strange."
"I can see that much myself."
Agreeing with Seol-yeong, Namgung Hui-myeong picked up his pace while practically half-carrying Yeo Il.
As they hurried through the marketplace, now emptied in an instant—
"Lord Namgung Hui-myeong?"
At the call from not far behind, Namgung Hui-myeong stopped running.
Their gazes fixed on a single figure approaching from the rear.
"I knew it… my eyes weren't mistaken!"
The woman who came closer spoke in a fatigued voice. At a glance, her condition was poor.
In particular, she limped faintly on one leg. Whenever she tried to quicken her pace, pain seemed to strike, and her brows immediately knit together.
Since they appeared to be acquainted, Namgung Hui-myeong asked her with puzzlement,
"Are the inns closing one after another related to you?"
"Yes. I spread the word. That a ghost would soon reach this place, so they should bar their doors and hide…"
She trailed off, then asked cautiously,
"And the person beside you?"
She seemed to be asking about Yeo Il.
"My younger sister, Namgung Soyo. What kind of ghost are you talking about?"
At his reply, a despairing sigh burst from her lips.
"Ah! Heavens… your younger sister? And her eyes—"
"You'd best watch your mouth."
At Namgung Hui-myeong's icy rebuke, the woman acknowledged her mistake without hesitation.
"My apologies. I will formally apologize later for speaking carelessly, but you must leave this place at once!"
"Leave? Weren't you asking for help?"
"If you were alone, Lord Hui-myeong, I surely would have. But in this situation, I cannot! Forget what I said and go quickly!"
With that, she truly appeared like the wind and vanished like the wind.
A ghost, huh.
As Yeo Il narrowed her eyes and watched the retreating figure, Chang-a, still on Seol-yeong's back, murmured softly,
"That person… she looks very sick…."
Perhaps the woman's complexion had been worse than expected. Even Namgung Hui-myeong's expression hardened as he watched her go.
[Didn't you say a martial artist must protect the weak? I was only keeping your words.]
The memory surfaced suddenly.
Protecting the weak.
It was a belief born of youthful spirit—yet also one easily dismissed because of that same youth.
Yeo Il recalled her own past.
A lifetime piled high with sins. Her childhood, lived without conviction or purpose, could not even begin to compare with Namgung Hui-myeong now.
"I'm fine, Lord Hui-myeong."
Perhaps that was why she spoke up now—intervening in a matter that brought her no real benefit.
She closed her eyes again and continued,
"…What do you mean, fine all of a sudden?"
"What else? Helping that woman, of course."
"..."
"It would be best to catch up before it's too late. Is not aiding the weak the chivalry of the Namgung Clan? Though there was an unusual spirit in her voice, her body is clearly not well."
Namgung Hui-myeong let out a short sigh.
"Hey, Soyo. I came to protect you—a girl who can't even stand properly on her own. And you're telling me to help someone else without knowing what might happen?"
"That is precisely why I said it."
"What?"
"Because I know better than anyone… what it feels like to be weak."
Spoken not as Yeo Il but as Namgung Soyo, the words seemed to steady his conflicted heart somewhat.
"Hmph. Don't blame me if you regret it."
With Yeo Il on his back, Namgung Hui-myeong leapt forward like the wind. They caught up quickly; the woman's startled voice rang out.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
"Seems there's trouble. We'll move together for now. Where are we headed?"
Despite his blunt goodwill, the woman responded coldly.
"You still don't understand! Can't you read the situation? You can barely protect your sister as it is, so leave me and go—"
"My sister's pity has already sealed this, it seems. Excuse me."
"What—!"
"If you don't want to fall, hold tight. Your arms are fine, so you can manage that much."
Namgung Hui-myeong shifted Yeo Il from his back into his arms. Judging by the slight shift in weight forward, he had now slung the woman onto his back instead.
Steady footwork.
Even carrying two women, his breathing and steps did not waver, and his speed remained constant.
At the same time, he adjusted the distance so Seol-yeong could follow without falling behind. Truly, a body born with the qualities of a martial artist.
After running for some time, the woman finally spoke in a weary voice.
"…Thank you, young master. I owe you a great debt."
After a short dry cough, she addressed Yeo Il as well.
"My greetings are late, Miss Namgung. Though this is hardly the time… I am Yulim of Mount Hua. For certain reasons, I lost two senior brothers and have been crossing Hubei alone."
"You lost two senior brothers? Are you saying the Mount Hua Sect's martial artists were all struck down?"
"Yes… that is correct."
As if recalling the tragedy, Yulim bit her lip, face stricken. Namgung Hui-myeong asked carefully yet firmly,
"What happened exactly? And what is this ghost?"
At that moment—
A chill far too cold to be summer brushed against their backs.
"The ghost is me."
A hoarse voice, almost like metal scraping, echoed through the mountains.
The strange, distinct sneer in that voice made Namgung Hui-myeong halt abruptly.
The instant his feet touched the ground, Yulim also dropped into a guarded stance with sword in hand.
Seol-yeong arrived last. The three martial artists formed a perimeter around the frightened Chang-a and Yeo Il, who held Chang-a's hand.
"After all, hunting is best done by driving the prey."
A sinister laugh, heavy with the passage of years, reverberated in all directions.
"With a little effort… I've managed to hook something worthwhile."
The figure who emerged from behind the trees was an old man with white hair braided down past his back. He stood just over six cheok tall, yet his reddened eyes and piercing gaze made him seem two spans taller.
Most of all, the aura he emitted was anything but ordinary.
Bare, undisguised killing intent.
"That crazy old man is the ghost you spoke of?"
Namgung Hui-myeong asked in displeasure. Yulim exhaled sharply and nodded.
"Chuhyeol Geomgwi."
It was only a short answer, yet Namgung Hui-myeong's face stiffened instantly.
"Chuhyeol Geomgwi… You don't mean one of the Eight Ghosts?"
The old man curled his lips and cut in.
"Indeed. I am one of the Eight Ghosts—Chuhyeol Geomgwi."
Chuhyeol Geomgwi.
Even hearing the name carried the thick scent of blood. Yeo Il clicked her tongue inwardly.
So one of the Eight Ghosts is still alive.
In the black path once called the heterodox world, eight figures collectively known as the Eight Ghosts had long made their names known.
They were not actual ghosts, of course. They earned the title because they knew no principles and showed no mercy in slaughter.
In short—
Seol-yeong, Namgung Hui-myeong, and Yulim together were nowhere near enough to handle him.
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