Chapter 18: Chapter 18
Xinjiang’s Cheonsan, perched at the western edge of the Central Plains.
Home of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, this place commonly called Cheonsan held five great wonders that could captivate anyone who beheld them.
The Eternal Snow Peak, where white snowflakes bloomed year-round, piling deep before triggering four days of avalanches.
The Great Stone Forest, where thousands of narrow, towering rock spires reaching three li in altitude crowded together so densely that a single wrong breath meant being lost forever, even in death.
The Waterfall Garden, where dozens of cascading ribbons of water falling between the trees calmed the fiercest of hearts.
The Heavenly Demon Palace, a labyrinth carved into the cliffs over hundreds of years.
And the fifth.
A solitary little island floating alone in the center of a broad hot spring lake, surrounded by mountains, with not a single bridge connecting it to shore.
The rising steam resembled clouds, giving it its name: Celestial Isle.
She lived there.
The master of a cozy estate beside a small ferry landing.
The Heavenly Demon’s adopted daughter, and the one who had recommended Jang I-seo for the Seventh Small Palace.
Third Young Lady Sa Hae-ryeong.
*
A charming outdoor garden screened by foliage and mist. A turquoise hot spring enclosed by a rounded stone wall.
“Mmm.”
Sa Hae-ryeong dipped her pale toes into the water. Perfect temperature. She waded in gradually, from knees to slender waist to chest, and the accumulated fatigue seemed to rise and dissipate like the steam curling away.
It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed such peaceful days at her palace.
Especially lately, the intensified competition with her brothers left her feeling like she needed ten bodies.
This return to the Third Small Palace was her first homecoming in fifty days. Enough said.
“Narak.”
But even this sweet respite was a luxury she couldn’t afford for more than an hour. She’d barely soaked before summoning her adjutant.
“You called.”
Narak materialized behind her, head bowed low, prostrate, like a ghost.
Rivulet.
Sa Hae-ryeong rose. Water droplets slid down her pale, naked form. She circulated her internal energy once, and every drop of moisture on her skin separated and floated into the air.
FWASH!
With a flick of her wrist, the suspended water shot outward like a squall, embedding itself in the surrounding foliage.
Mao simply pushed water off his body. She controlled it entirely. The difference in their mastery was staggering.
Sa Hae-ryeong swept a cloth from beside her, wrapped it around herself in a wide arc, and padded past Narak on bare feet.
“What’s become of that child?”
That child. The only existence in this brutal, blood-soaked Cheonsan she referred to with such tenderness.
Her youngest brother. The Seventh Young Master, Mao.
Narak followed behind her and answered evenly.
“As expected, the Slaughterhouse has made their move.”
The Slaughterhouse! Had she too anticipated their appearance in Wolha Village?
“It’s a gate he must pass through if that child is to stand on his own. If he can’t break free from his family’s grip, he’ll spend his life trapped at the bottom of a well. Jang I-seo surely knows this by now.”
That Ma I-sin maintained close ties with the Sa brothers was known to only a handful within the cult.
And she was among that handful.
From the reason Mao had become a good-for-nothing, to the reality that everyone around him would be targeted and killed. She knew all of it.
She had known everything and still sent Jang I-seo as his adjutant.
Passing through the garden and entering her chambers, she let the cloth fall without reservation and changed clothes.
Narak kept his head down and waited in silence.
A bond of absolute trust between them.
Hair tied up, dressed in a resplendent outer robe of interwoven red and black, Sa Hae-ryeong settled gracefully into a chair and asked again.
“Did Sa Do-cheol personally take the field this time?”
The Slaughterhouse’s master and the eldest of the Sa brothers. If he’d moved personally, she deemed it certain defeat for Jang I-seo and Mao. Honestly, Narak couldn’t quite understand.
From every indication, she seemed to want to nurture the two of them, yet she offered no assistance whatsoever.
“This time, it appears only Mak-gwi, an officer, mobilized.”
Narak answered. A faint smile touched Sa Hae-ryeong’s lips.
“Lucky. But luck is also a form of skill.”
“Still, we can’t be certain. The Sa brothers and their officers are acknowledged by both the Elder Council and the Five Dragon Halls. No matter how skilled a Counter-Espionage operative, a Seventh Grade Ghost matching them is a stretch. Moreover, from the impure internal energy radiating from his body…”
Narak recalled his encounter with Jang I-seo.
His skill level was sufficient to detect it. The irregular, murky internal energy leaking from Jang I-seo’s body.
In short, a man who could never ascend to the absolute realm.
Meanwhile, the Slaughterhouse’s Mak-gwi had already shattered the wall to the absolute realm.
“You can’t defeat absolute realm experts through sheer force. True. But what I need isn’t a hatchling cowering in its nest waiting for its mother. I need a hawk that will fight, even if it means falling.”
“Even if it means dying?”
“Who knows. We’ll have to see.”
Narak tilted his head, unable to comprehend. Sa Hae-ryeong snorted softly at the sight.
She would have thought the same, had she not seen it with her own eyes.
But,
‘I’ll take the three on the left.’
‘Good. I’ve never been the type to lose out. Why not? I’ll handle the four on the right.’
During the assassin ambush at Chiseonru, Jang I-seo had faced more opponents than she had, yet.
‘Don’t move.’
He’d finished his fight first and shielded her from the Melt-Skin Powder with his own body.
She couldn’t judge everything from a single moment, but one thing was certain. His movement was so fast that even she struggled to gauge it.
Furthermore, while internal energy held the advantage in combat, it wasn’t absolute. Victory came down to who drove their blade into the other’s heart first.
“Narak. If it were you. How long would it take?”
“Mak-gwi?”
Narak’s typically impassive eyes filled with puzzlement. He’d never considered it.
Why? Because the gap was that enormous.
Given that he’d been the youngest Hall Master of the Mad Dragon Hall, the most aggressive of the Five Dragon Halls, the question bordered on insulting.
But Narak pondered briefly and answered honestly.
“If Mak-gwi strikes first, ten exchanges. If not, two.”
“As expected.”
Sa Hae-ryeong’s smile deepened at Narak’s confident words. That was pride in her adjutant.
She turned her head.
“Even if it took Jang I-seo a thousand exchanges. If he can bring down Mak-gwi. Then would it be worth hoping?”
The Seventh Young Master, Mao.
The moment that child gained a staunch ally and took flight.
“Jang I-seo. I pray you haven’t disappointed me.”
Sa Hae-ryeong’s heartfelt cheer echoed through the Third Small Palace.
*
– Wolha Village, Seventh Small Palace.
“Clear out.”
Two words left Mao’s mouth.
“KIIIAAAAAAGH!”
Simultaneously, a scream near bestial erupted from Mak-gwi’s throat. BWOOOM! Sonic waves radiated outward in every direction.
An invisible weapon that damaged the inner ear upon contact, inflicting devastating injury.
Yes.
The signature technique of the top-knotted assassin Mak-gwi wasn’t unarmed combat at all. It was a supreme master’s sonic attack, channeling internal energy through sound to shatter the mind.
The bulked-up muscles and the torn sleeves revealing them had all been misdirection, designed to lower his guard.
This was why Narak had said that if Mak-gwi struck first, the fight would exceed ten exchanges.
Moreover, looking closely, his subordinates had already plugged their ears. A perfectly executed surprise attack.
“Kgh.”
Sure enough, Mao, closest to the blast, took the sonic attack head-on. His ears rang. The world spun. His knees buckled.
He endured only because his internal energy was vast as the sea. Otherwise, his ears would be gushing blood and he’d be unconscious.
‘No…!’
But staying conscious changed nothing.
With blank, despairing eyes, he searched for Jang I-seo, about to become the assassins’ prey.
At that moment.
“Command. Received.”
With utterly indifferent eyes, as if nothing had happened, he raised his right hand.
And,
『White Thunder』
KRAK! A white bolt of lightning tore through the sonic waves and ripped across the battlefield.
“KIIIAAA…”
THUD!
The dagger flew into Mak-gwi’s gaping mouth as he unleashed his sonic attack and punched clean through the back of his skull.
One move.
THUD!
In a single move, the Slaughterhouse’s rank six, Mak-gwi, fell backward without even closing his eyes. Dead instantly.
“W-what!”
The assassins recoiled as if confronting a monster.
But it was already too late. Everything happened in a single breath.
TWING!
Jang I-seo caught the arrow fired from the roof with his left hand, spun, and hurled it back along its exact path.
THUD!
The archer on the roof took the bolt through his forehead.
White Thunder, having already dispatched Mak-gwi, returned to his grip. The five assassins closing from both sides fell in rapid succession. Instep, ribs, chest, throat. No discrimination. Lightning-fast, savage thrusts.
Thud.
Around Jang I-seo, standing motionless, assassins crumpled one after another.
More astonishing, not a single one managed a proper scream. Even Mao, watching it all, couldn’t exhale properly.
Why? Because it was too fast. Everything happened too quickly. It truly felt like lightning had struck.
“Y-you…”
And just like that, it was over.
Mao murmured incoherently, having forgotten he was still on his knees.
Footstep, footstep.
Watching him approach.
They said he was a Seventh Grade Ghost. Said he just wanted to climb the ladder.
The man who’d grabbed hold of him and sworn to carry him to the top, spouting grand promises.
“What are you…”
Mao’s eyes trembled uncontrollably.
Looking up at the man now standing within arm’s reach, a halo blazed behind him. A radiance so bright it stung.
And he smirked.
“Adjutant Jang I-seo.”
What?
“I promise you.”
What.
“Young Cult Leader. I’ll make it happen.”
Ah…
He extended his hand. Mao stared at it, spellbound.
Neither large nor small. Just ordinary and plain. And yet, for reasons he couldn’t explain, a hand he wanted to grip tightly.
“Let’s climb together.”
He smiled brightly.
“Jang I-seo…”
And for the first time, Mao spoke his name properly.
Clasp.
At last, their hands met.
Both pairs of eyes holding a new bond beyond words.
“If you don’t want to fall off, you’d better brace yourself.”
“If you want to hold on to me, you’d better brace yourself. Even the Cult Leader gave up on me.”
That’s something to brag about, kid.
The two exchanged a wry smile.
The Hidden Pavilion’s finest operative, Martial Alliance spy Jang I-seo.
And the Demonic Cult’s greatest good-for-nothing, Seventh Young Master Mao.
Two men who had no business together. Who couldn’t possibly fit together. At last, they’d boarded the same boat.
Destination: Young Cult Leader.
Deadline: the day it was achieved.
Adjutant, it begins.