Chapter 38: Chapter 38
Maeng Won-won’s appearance was loveliness incarnate.
Her smiling eyes curved like crescent moons. Fair skin with deep dimples that radiated natural charm.
The very picture of a child raised on nothing but love.
And today was the day she set out on the long journey for her private audience with the Cult Leader.
“Have a safe trip, Fifth Young Lady.”
Seeing her off was a tall middle-aged man whose eyes and mouth curved in warm arcs. The Maeng family head and Third Elder, Maeng Cheol-yong.
His impression was fierce. Deep creases between his brows gave him an utterly humorless look, yet toward his niece he seemed impossibly tender.
“I’ll buy something delicious on the way back!”
An adjutant with a frame even larger than the girl on horseback led the mount up the hill.
Maeng Cheol-yong waved with a smile until she became a speck and vanished.
Only after she disappeared completely did his smile evaporate like dust.
He’d looked so benevolent when smiling. Now, he radiated something beyond cold. Something chilling.
“Did you hear? The Seventh Young Master has finally opened the doors of the Heavenly Demon Palace.”
His voice had dropped three degrees from moments ago. He muttered without removing his gaze from the distance. From behind him, a cowed voice answered.
“Yes, I heard.”
“Is that… all?”
“Sir?”
Maeng Cheol-yong cut off mid-sentence and glanced back. A child barely over five cheok tall, small as a chestnut, stood trembling with fear.
“I asked if that’s all.”
“Th-that’s…”
Maeng Cheol-yong’s eyes turned glacial, tinged with disappointment. The child’s eyes filled with despair.
“I apologize. Father…”
“Again-!”
“Hik!”
Maeng Cheol-yong glared as if ready to beat him to death. The child recoiled, pale as a sheet.
“The Sixth Young Master’s father is one and only one. The Cult Leader of this cult. Have I not told you this time and again? Have you forgotten already?”
The child’s name was Maeng Hwi.
Third Elder Maeng Cheol-yong’s youngest son. The Cult Leader’s sixth adopted child.
His perception was extraordinary. He’d read through the Four Books and Three Classics at an early age. He’d inherited his father’s innate martial talent and, despite his youth, had become an heir before Mao.
Yet the temperature difference between how Maeng Cheol-yong treated his niece Won-won and his own son was polar. This was his biological son, no less.
“F-forgive me. Third… Elder…”
But this was no new occurrence. Maeng Hwi dipped his head and begged forgiveness with practiced ease.
A child of only fifteen. Forbidden to call his father “Father.” Forbidden even to laugh or cry. Truly merciless.
But whether due to expectations or something else, Maeng Cheol-yong was always strict with Maeng Hwi alone. A stark contradiction with the freedom-loving Horse Grounds.
“The Seventh Young Master opening the doors of the Heavenly Demon Palace means the Ma family is now moving in earnest. Moreover, I hear he’s recently taken in an adjutant. Rumors even say this adjutant serves as the Seventh Young Master’s teacher. Were you aware of this?”
He’d had no idea whatsoever. Maeng Hwi begged forgiveness as if he’d committed a capital crime.
“I apologize… I was negligent.”
“Tsk. A bastard though he may be, he is still Ma family blood. Should he achieve merit, the Ma family would embrace him readily. How can you think so lightly of this?”
“I apologize…”
As Maeng Hwi apologized repeatedly, Maeng Cheol-yong whipped his head away in frustration.
Then Maeng Hwi asked with a somewhat aggrieved expression.
“But the Seventh Young Master is lazy in all things and has no interest in martial arts. Opening the doors of the Heavenly Demon Palace must have been mere coincidence. No matter how excellent a teacher he’s been given, my younger brother simply lacks the talent…”
“How can one open the Heavenly Demon Palace by coincidence? Did the Sixth Young Master open those doors by coincidence? Is that what you’re saying?”
Maeng Cheol-yong glared again, radiating a fierce intensity. Maeng Hwi’s neck retracted and he shook his head vigorously.
Impossible. The effort he’d poured into opening those doors had been horrific. It had been underway from the moment he could form memories. That was how long he’d endured grueling training.
“The Radiant Left Emissary hinted to me that the Seventh Young Master has reached the realm of scaling the peak.”
Scaling the peak. Reaching the summit, where no human could climb higher. In other words, only the divine realm remained.
Meaning.
“The supreme realm?! Th-that’s impossible!”
The claim that Mao had reached the supreme realm.
“…The Radiant Left Emissary does occasionally say things beyond comprehension, so I can’t take his words at face value. But for such talk to surface at all means the Seventh Young Master must have a hidden card.”
Maeng Hwi’s head swam.
The supreme realm. Not words to be spoken lightly. A dream realm that the vast majority failed to reach even after a lifetime of striving.
And Mao, who was at most three years his senior. The perpetually lazy, stupid younger brother Mao.
Had reached the supreme realm?!
‘That’s absolutely impossible!’
The only heir he could look down on was that good-for-nothing Mao.
Who on earth was this adjutant? Who was he, to teach that idiot and make him open the doors of the Heavenly Demon Palace?
Envy poisoned Maeng Hwi’s eyes. Maeng Cheol-yong, catching the sidelong glance, nodded slightly. Then softened his gaze and spoke evenly.
“…Don’t forget what you’re feeling right now. Once it’s taken from you, it’s too late. If you don’t want to be devoured even by your younger brother, apply yourself relentlessly. Dedicate yourself to training. Effort only has meaning while opportunity still remains. Remember. Without the Cult Leader’s acknowledgment, the Sixth Young Master is nothing.”
“Yes…”
At the hollow answer, Maeng Cheol-yong nodded and turned away.
Honestly, he didn’t place much stock in talk of the supreme realm or an adjutant’s outstanding ability. The Ma family had been too quiet for that. And the adjutant’s background was unremarkable.
‘They say he killed the Slaughterhouse’s Mak-gwi, but that was luck with a concealed weapon. A First-rate warrior from the Seventh Grade Ghost at best.’
So he’d mentioned it purely as kindling to burn his son’s pride.
Moreover.
‘The Seventh Young Master’s side will be settled by Ma I-sin anyway. Retreat after a single setback? Not with that vicious temperament. He’ll likely cause a major incident in Wolha Village soon. It may burn entirely to ash.’
Maeng Cheol-yong nodded. The Seventh Young Master’s situation could be left to the Ma family’s eldest son to resolve and monitor.
What needed his attention was, as always, the First Young Master Cheon Mu-gi.
Outsiders might see the Demonic Cult’s three great families, the Ma, Cheon, and Maeng clans, joining forces to back Cheon Mu-gi. But Maeng Cheol-yong had never once abandoned his own ambition.
The moment his youngest son, Sixth Young Master Maeng Hwi, ascended to the seat of Young Cult Leader.
So the only one he needed to guard against was not some Ma family bastard, but Cheon family blood. First Young Master Cheon Mu-gi.
“Gui-o-ryang.”
At Maeng Cheol-yong’s call, a red-clad figure with a topknot and an iron mask engraved with a demon’s face stepped forward, spear reversed behind his back, and prostrated.
Sixth Young Master’s adjutant, Gui-o-ryang.
A master ranked within the Demonic Cult’s top one hundred, better known as the Ghost-Face Iron Demon. Formerly Maeng Cheol-yong’s personal bodyguard.
“The Sixth Young Master will enter secluded cultivation shortly. You will go to the Cheon family and observe their movements.”
“S-Sir!”
Maeng Hwi went pale at the words “secluded cultivation.” But Maeng Cheol-yong showed no mercy.
“Did you not hear me earlier? I distinctly told you to apply yourself relentlessly if you didn’t want to be devoured by your younger brother.”
“But…”
“If you dislike secluded cultivation, then demonstrate the same feat of smashing through walls and soaring. Or accumulate merits of your own.”
How could he be so cold? Tears brimmed in Maeng Hwi’s eyes. From childhood, he’d always been alone. He hated secluded cultivation more than anything.
‘Don’t go.’
So he stared at his adjutant Gui-o-ryang with pleading eyes. A wordless plea to intervene.
But.
“Gui-o-ryang, why aren’t you going!”
At Maeng Cheol-yong’s roar, he bowed without lingering attachment, mounted a brown stallion, and departed.
Maeng Hwi sank into betrayal and emptiness as he watched his adjutant disappear.
Whose adjutant was he, really? While someone else fooled around and found an adjutant to hold a blade to his throat…
“What are you doing? Go thrust your spear a few more times. Tsk.”
Those crushing words made Maeng Hwi tremble.
In his heart, he wanted to argue hundreds, thousands of times. But he couldn’t. The only thing he’d been taught was obedience.
Even his anger could only be directed at the wrong target.
‘Whether you’ve truly reached the supreme realm, Mao. Or whether that adjutant is really someone remarkable. I need to see with my own eyes!’
Sparks flew in Maeng Hwi’s eyes as he turned and walked away.
He passed his quarters and walked and walked on small feet. For a long time.
Wolha Village. The Seventh Small Palace.
Toward the place where his younger brother Mao resided.
*
The next day, early morning.
Maeng Hwi arrived at Wolha Village after a full day’s travel with only a single short spear strapped to his back. He knitted his thick brows and surveyed the area in bewilderment.
“Was it always like this here…?”
Ahaha! Over the blue waters of Moonlight Lake stretched a beautiful, wide bridge. Children his age chased kites across it, laughing.
And at its center rose an eight-story tower like a pagoda, adorned with lanterns of every color, exuding elegance.
He shuffled to the railing and peered down at the lake. Carp swarmed below, greeting him.
“Wow…”
After a moment’s distraction, Maeng Hwi shook his head and snapped his eyes open.
“Focus!”
When he’d visited before, this had been nothing but a crumbling, shabby village. The cult members’ faces had been gloomy. There had been no such magnificent bridge.
Now it was completely different. A bustling, vibrant marketplace.
“Hmph. It’s still just a backwater where a good-for-nothing lives. The Horse Grounds are serene and dignified. And we have over three hundred warhorses!”
Was that so. But no one had asked.
Maeng Hwi stamped the ground and strode forward, his face twisted with jealousy. Watching children playing together and harmonious cult members only fueled his spite.
“Mao. You think you’ve really reached a higher realm than me? Just watch. I’ll show you what real skill looks like.”
Stewing in resentment, he reached the bamboo forest. The noisy bustle fell away, leaving only the lonely sound of wind.
Rustle…
And like the swaying bamboo, a strange tension crept into his heart.
‘But what if he’s really gotten stronger than me?’
No. Impossible. Absolutely not. Maeng Hwi pictured Mao and shook his head in violent denial.
Then, whether from nerves or not, his stomach growled.
“Ugh, come on. Why now of all times.”
He looked around awkwardly, but doing his business on the roadside was beneath his dignity. The Sixth Young Master under heaven couldn’t do such a thing.
Fortunately, relief was close.
The Seventh Small Palace was right there.
Maeng Hwi clenched and hurried inside.