Chapter 44: Chapter 44
As Sa Hae-ryeong continued to stare, waiting for an answer, Jang I-seo clasped his hands behind his back, tilted his head, and replied.
“Did I do it, or did the Seventh Young Master open them?”
“I’m asking how you made him open them.”
“Nothing special. Just offered a few words of advice, that’s all.”
“Is that modesty?”
Not really. Just lazy.
“What about you? Is this an interrogation?”
“…It’s praise.”
“Nice to hear.”
As Jang I-seo let out a pleased laugh, Sa Hae-ryeong’s lips puckered faintly.
The praise was genuine.
Volcanic internal energy lay dormant within Mao. But no one had ever drawn it out. Sa Hae-ryeong was no exception.
No. She’d believed no one could.
Unlike ordinary people who learned breathing techniques to artificially accumulate internal energy, Mao had naturally gathered it from birth.
Which meant its nature was flawlessly extreme yang energy, notoriously difficult to control, and the way it operated was fundamentally different from anyone else’s.
Therefore, extracting Mao’s true ability required someone possessing both the discernment to see through all of this and the capability to act on it.
But harder than any of that.
‘You moved Mao’s closed heart. You accomplished that.’
That was one of the reasons she’d carved time from her busy schedule to come here. Because she valued Jang I-seo’s worth more than anyone.
“You were ambushed by the Slaughterhouse, I heard. Is your body alright?”
At her worried question, Jang I-seo nodded with bright eyes.
“How’d you hear about that? Well, I’m fine. Just a scratch.”
“I heard you were at death’s door.”
“No way. I was just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Are you aware? There’s killing intent in your eyes right now.”
Was it showing? Jang I-seo forced a smile and replied.
“If I’d been at death’s door, where do you think the other side ended up? Sunk to the bottom of the River Styx.”
“Is the grudge settled, then?”
“Of course not. I’m nominally a Third Grade Ghost, a high-ranking official. Can’t just let some thug bastards get away with it. So I’m planning to hand down a bit more punishment. A light divine retribution.”
“Pfft!”
Sa Hae-ryeong burst out laughing before she could stop herself, then hastily straightened her face and turned away.
“You find that funny?”
“Not at all.”
Honestly, it was funny. Divine retribution. Since when had the Slaughterhouse been reduced to mere thugs? They were hardly that lightweight. Anyone could see it was bluster. But Sa Hae-ryeong had decided she would no longer dismiss his words lightly.
No matter what others said, the Jang I-seo she’d observed was a man who honored the words he spoke. That much earned him respect.
She spoke with a fully softened expression.
“…That light punishment. If you want, I could lend a hand.”
Oh. Jang I-seo’s eyes went round with genuine admiration. He knew full well how much weight her offer carried.
Looking at the hapless Maeng Hwi or the good-for-nothing Mao, one might think the heirs were no big deal. Far from it.
Sa Hae-ryeong and the others up to the Fourth Young Master all bore the character Emperor in their titles. This meant that even without becoming Young Cult Leader, they had accumulated enough skill and reputation to be called grand masters.
So if Sa Hae-ryeong intervened, the Slaughterhouse would crumble like a sandcastle. The equivalent of gaining a vast army.
However,
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
Jang I-seo waved his hand and refused without hesitation. Sa Hae-ryeong had expected as much. But she wanted to hear the reason. Honestly, she wanted to stop him.
Thus far, his achievements against Mak-gwi and Yo Do-sun while being merely first-rate were miraculous.
But if the Sa brothers stepped in, even someone blessed by heaven would be in danger. Cold assessment put it at eight chances in ten for death, two for crippling injury. Certain defeat.
So she asked.
“Why?”
“Why? It’s our business. When nobodies pick a fight, hiding behind someone else looks pathetic.”
“Over something that petty?”
“Yeah.”
Hah. Was that something to admit so proudly? His life hung by a thread. Sa Hae-ryeong shook her head vigorously.
“It’s good that you’re quick to admit it, but it’s meaningless.”
“It’s meaningful. I told you. I’m nominally a high-ranking official. So at minimum, I should receive an apology. Otherwise, how do I show my face around the cult?”
“That’s a stretch. Even as a Third Grade Ghost, your name doesn’t outweigh the Slaughterhouse’s. And if it’s the Slaughterer Sa Do-cheol, even less so.”
Urk. A knife to the gut. She had a point. Compared to Sa Do-cheol, his reputation was woefully insufficient. But this wasn’t that simple a matter.
Jang I-seo spoke with hardened eyes.
“If you look at me alone, you’re right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mak-gwi, was it? The bastard had the audacity to enter the Seventh Small Palace and wreak havoc. Yo Do-sun was the same. Brazenly fired arrows in an ambush where the Seventh Young Master was present. Do you understand what this means? It’s outright treason. If we let this slide… we look too pathetic.”
Sa Hae-ryeong’s mind went blank at this novel interpretation.
She’d never considered it.
Everyone in the leadership knew the Slaughterhouse was backed by Ma I-sin. So it was dismissed as a family squabble. Besides, the victim was the cult’s walking disgrace, the good-for-nothing Seventh Young Master who got bitten by village dogs.
But Jang I-seo, setting aside the narrative, had looked purely at the situation and classified it as treason.
And this was the opening line of a tremendous shift.
‘A warning. Jang I-seo intends to make the Slaughterhouse an example. A cruel warning to everyone that anyone who dismisses Mao like before will face divine retribution.’
Sa Hae-ryeong studied Jang I-seo anew. His presence was distinctly different from before. His once-murky eyes now brimmed with the killing intent of a ruthless predator.
Chills raced down her spine. It felt like facing her father, the Heavenly Demon.
‘What on earth… happened in the meantime?’
She didn’t know. But one thing was certain. Jang I-seo would deliver a result beyond expectation once again.
Sa Hae-ryeong clenched her fists with anticipation she couldn’t suppress. She wanted to see. How he would overcome this crisis.
So she was about to offer to participate by any means.
Jang I-seo smiled warmly and delivered the knockout blow.
“And more than anything… the notoriety those thugs have built up is quite precious to us right now. Too precious to share with anyone. We’ve been building up to this moment, so this time, please yield.”
THUMP! Sa Hae-ryeong felt as though she’d been clubbed in the back of the head.
To Jang I-seo, the Slaughterhouse wasn’t merely those who’d bruised his pride. They were prey to be trampled on the way up.
“You… did you already know?”
Jang I-seo said nothing. But Sa Hae-ryeong heard the answer clearly enough in his smile-laced killing intent.
He knew.
He knew the Slaughterhouse was coming here right now.
Which meant this, too, was all part of his calculation.
‘Just how long… have you been planning this?’
Sa Hae-ryeong had to steady her racing heart several times. She’d thought she understood him somewhat. Not even close. He wasn’t simply a clever, bold Counter-Espionage squad leader.
‘He’s a military strategist anyone would covet.’
At this point, she even felt a twinge of regret about sending him to the Seventh Young Master.
But stronger than that, stirring her heart, was competitive spirit.
‘Among seven children, within the top three. He says the Seventh Young Master will rank among them.’
The unsettling yet thrilling sense that Mao might actually climb all the way up beside her.
Sa Hae-ryeong peeled herself off the pillar and turned.
“Leaving already?”
“…Someone’s dying to climb up. Can’t just sit idle.”
“What?”
“Leaving.”
Sa Hae-ryeong stepped outside with a far more composed bearing. In the distance, two younger brothers hovered, bowing their heads.
[Grow stronger.]
Sa Hae-ryeong left this heartfelt counsel through sound transmission and exited the palace.
Rustle…
The sprawling bamboo forest swayed as if welcoming her. As she walked down the path, eleven warriors fell in behind her naturally.
At their center, the silver-haired absolute master, Narak.
And following him, ten masters wearing silver masks. The Moon Mad Ten Ghosts.
Before becoming Young Cult Leader, no heir could hold any official position or form a faction. That was the rule for all heirs.
But there was one exception.
Receiving the right of formation directly from the Heavenly Demon.
Yes.
These were the Third Small Palace’s sole, supreme elite force, personally authorized by the Cult Leader and created by Sa Hae-ryeong.
But their small numbers invited no contempt. The appearance of all of them together was force enough to wage war.
And that was precisely the intent.
If Jang I-seo had asked for help, the Slaughterhouse currently marching toward this place would have been slaughtered before crossing the bamboo forest.
Indeed.
Sa Hae-ryeong had originally mobilized to intercept the Slaughterhouse.
However,
“Narak.”
Sa Hae-ryeong stopped, faced the wind, and spoke low.
“Return to the Third Small Palace.”
The one who’d overextended wasn’t the man who’d offered her the door handle. It was herself, trying to lock everything away inside the room.
“Command received.”
Narak answered briefly and dispersed like dust with the Moon Mad Ten Ghosts.
Sa Hae-ryeong looked back at the distant Seventh Small Palace and murmured.
“Climb up. No matter what.”
Then, with a serene smile, she vanished.
And.
* * *
Time passed. Darkness thickened in the dead of night.
A group appeared on the hill overlooking Moonlight Lake.
One hundred black-clad figures.
Two characters tattooed on their bodies.
Slaughter. Kill.
The Slaughterhouse had finally arrived at Wolha Village.
*
A moonless first night, devoid of even a sliver of lunar light.
The glittering stars proved insufficient, leaving everything swathed in darkness. Staring blankly, the scenery felt so surreal it might have been a hallucination, until the caw, caw of ominous crows jolted reality back.
Not a single light in the village. Everyone asleep.
The hour of the Demonic Cult’s assassins had begun.
“Good night for a hunt, isn’t it?”
The sole woman among the hundred black-clad figures. Rank three, Color Moon Geum Hwa-bin, glanced down the hill and murmured.
A revealing black skirt that displayed her cleavage. A flower-patterned scabbard housing a Japanese sword that suited her perfectly.
From her licking lips to her swaying hips, her excitement index had peaked.
“Can we kill them all?”
She wasn’t the only one burning with eagerness. A rugged man chimed in with the same question. The thick iron mace in his hand was genuinely menacing.
Rank four. Meteor Iron Legs, Dong-tak.
A wild beard and massive frame reminiscent of the warlord of the same name.
Rustle…
As if echoing the two officers’ words, virulent killing intent erupted from the black-clad ranks. Everyone was itching to dance with blades.
And all of this collective desire converged on one point.
“Hmm.”
A hulking frame seated atop the carcass of a dead boar, like a bear claiming its kill. Blood-caked steel rings jammed on every thick finger.
And eyes as terrifying as a tiger’s.
Slaughterhouse rank one. Sa Do-cheol.