“To be precise, they came out in order to unify the entire Murim.”
“Pardon?”
Unlike Namgung Ho-gwan, who frowned because he couldn’t understand immediately, Namgung Ok-ri’s face stiffened hard. Ok-ri, who had not long risen from his sickbed, clasped his haggard hands and stared down quietly, chewing over the words he had just heard slowly. If this were true, it was something that would overturn the history forming the foundation of the Murim and then some.
“So you mean… the ones who put the Murim in danger actually caused that blood calamity… for the purpose of uniting the Murim as one?”
“In the first place, the world called Murim is deformed. It has changed significantly from its initial form where there were only excellent martial arts and trainees learning them. Those who know nothing but how to temper their own bodies all day now hold the financial power of the Central Plains, obtain indulgences as a group that signed a treaty with the Emperor, and further penetrate into the people’s livelihood, reaching everywhere—how could there be no repercussions?”
Hundreds of years ago, martial artists who were active in many wars established their respective groups with the power and fame they gained that way.
Initially, they were merely sects established to teach people knocking on their gates without discrimination and families built to keep their own kin safe, but as centuries passed, the situation gradually changed.
As the overall scale ballooned uncontrollably, it reached a point where they could no longer make a living with just the donations of visitors and the produce of land granted by the king.
Because of this, those belonging to the Orthodox Factions had to find countermeasures, and now it had reached a point where no sect that exerted some influence didn’t touch the local commercial sphere.
However, martial artists were people who learned martial arts, not management. The friction occurring in this process only ended with damage to the weak.
“‘Murim’ is a forest easy to rot like soft fruit and easy to break like an overgrown tree. To maintain it, periodic pruning and thinning are necessary. It means the overheated atmosphere and the upper water of excessive personnel must be skimmed off. If there is a powerful and common enemy in the middle, wouldn’t there be no leisure to engage in dirty dog-fights?”
“Such a…”
He was merely curious about who was riding in the carriage following behind, but he ended up hearing a story difficult to handle. Namgung Ok-ri’s head stiffened. He almost envied his foolish brother who couldn’t understand the conversation going back and forth.
Ok-ri, who stammered unable to string a word together, asked as if something suddenly came to mind.
“Then what about the Demonic Cult? Is the Demonic Cult also a group created for the Murim?”
“The Demonic Cult.”
Namgung Yeong, who quietly appreciated the ever-changing face of the son he had placed expectations on due to his standout cleverness among the bunch, laughed heartily. As if he found the hundred thousand demon men who would be in the vast land of Xinjiang far away pitiful, or perhaps ridiculous.
“They are those who sacrifice their lives believing a figurehead leader is a god without even knowing for what purpose the army they belong to was founded. No matter how much things like them struggle to climb to the Cult Leader’s seat, if a new ‘Dark Venerable’ ascends, they will only become weapons that kill and are killed as He wishes.”
“…I-I do not understand well, Father.”
“I did not say it for you to accept. I said it to warn you to restrain yourself so you do not let stupid sounds out of your mouth now that you have encountered that person.”
Even after hearing his father’s cold words, Ok-ri couldn’t easily come to his senses. So, does it mean the legendary Great Demonic Men who appear steadily with a gap of decades to centuries… specifically those with the title ‘Emperor (Je)’ attached to their names, all created that mountain of corpses and sea of blood ‘for the Murim’?
Ascension of the ‘Dark Venerable’—isn’t Dark Venerable another name referring to the Brilliance Heavenly Demonic Emperor from 150 years ago? Does it not refer to an individual, but a word referring to a ‘role’ that refreshes the Murim?
He couldn’t understand.
He didn’t want to understand.
The more he heard, the more he felt like falling into an inescapable quagmire. Ok-ri swallowed dry saliva and returned to the original topic. It was a ploy to cut the flow and move on knowing only the surface level.
“Then is the Exalted Emperor… the new Dark Venerable?”
“No.”
Namgung Yeong straightened his back and corrected his posture reverently. As if saying aloud a name that was awe-inspiring even to mention.
“The one we serve is the Brilliance Heavenly Demonic Emperor Cho Wol-ryang, the one who will become the last and eternal Dark Venerable.”
“…Pardon?”
Along with his father’s heavy voice, Namgung Ok-ri felt a pressure weighing down coolly on the back of his neck. Namgung Ho-gwan, who had been sitting like a borrowed sack of barley because there was no gap to intervene, had to be shocked helplessly at this answer as well.
From the moment Namgung Ok-ri threw the first question, there was already no way to escape. ‘Who on earth is that boy?’—this simple question was the core piercing all truths. Now he had to sit helplessly, listen to the truth too heavy to handle, and taste the sensation of the world he originally knew collapsing.
A pitiful moan came out of his throat.
Namgung Ok-ri coughed dryly a few times and asked back from the most fundamental question.
“…D-Didn’t the Brilliance Heavenly Demonic Emperor die?”
“There is no one in this world who can kill Him. Even when all the highly skilled figures of the Orthodox Factions gathered to oppose him at the time, they barely managed to seal him. I gave a temporary body to His trapped soul, and from now on, I intend to resurrect Him in complete form. Can’t you see just by looking at yourselves that the current behavior of the Murim is quite a mess?”
“How…”
How on earth can the Brilliance Heavenly Demonic Emperor, a figure from a hundred and fifty years ago, be alive in this era?
It was an absurd sound one might find in a collection of strange tales like a monster anthology, but at the same time, it was the statement of the White Chivalry Alliance Leader Namgung Yeong. Their own miraculous survival was something that had already happened, and riding in a shabby carriage heading to Guangdong right now was also vivid reality.
Interpreting Ok-ri’s half-cut question differently, Namgung Yeong shifted his gaze outside the covered window and muttered small. He said if there is something you want to find, go to Guangdong. He said go to the Hao Sect where there is nothing missing, whether people or things.
“We must find a way to moisten His parched body. We must find Him the elixir that makes even the dead jump up. Aren’t you two, who barely survived a death crisis, truly good excuses…”
***
The five-colored glaze applied on the surface of the palm-sized teacup shone vividly.
Ripples formed on the brown tea water, and the face reflected on it distorted. Cho Yoon looked down quietly at his appearance which he never got used to, then swallowed a bitter sip. The scent moistening his throat and filling his mouth felt welcome.
“It is a relief that he seems to like the sword. Actually, I worried a lot after hearing the news of Blacksmith Hwang belatedly. What is with such things happening in just a month.”
“…….”
Honestly, the sword that was on the verge of becoming a demonic sword still felt a bit uncomfortable, but seeing the sight in front of him, it seemed he could fold his worries now. The White Rainbow Cleaving the Sun and the Eclipse that Defies Natural Law fit Cheon-oh like a picture, fortunately. Adding a bit of exaggeration, it looked as if he had used only that sword for a long time.
A seat where he holds a real sword for the first time right after leaving minority—he couldn’t feel at ease leaving him alone, so he brought a chair outside. He knew better than anyone that he had long passed the stage of cutting himself with his own sword, but Cho Yoon was a human who fretted even if Cheon-oh held a kitchen knife.
While watching the child gradually getting used to the sword with 30% excitement and 70% anxiety, a person whom he absolutely had to meet at least once came to find him on his own feet. To be precise, the Hao Sect Leader Hui, who came borrowing the feet of an escort warrior.
“By the way, is it alright for an outsider like me to be in this place? Most martial artists dislike showing their secret martial arts carelessly.”
“It is fine as you will gain nothing even if you watch from start to finish.”
“That seems so. I prided myself on my eyes in my own way, but I have no idea at all.”
Hui, sitting side by side, laughed cheerfully.
Cho Yoon emptied the rest of the teacup with a slightly proud heart and put it down.
What does ‘I have no idea at all’ mean?
This meant that even considering Cho Yoon’s martial arts were unique, Cheon-oh had embodied them excellently, and even Hui, who was treated as a skeleton key in
While sticking to the stance that he absolutely couldn’t give a real sword until adulthood due to his modern ethical views, Cho Yoon, who secretly worried inside if he was falling behind peers because of his stubbornness, regained peace in his stomach. They said teaching a genius of the world is one of the three joys of a gentleman, and it seemed to be true.
Cheon-oh, who unfolded the forms in order while controlling his spirit so the borrowed residence wouldn’t become a mess, glanced back at his master.
When Cho Yoon nodded lightly, the sword tip that had been lowered for a moment began to rewind in reverse order this time.
Hui, who watched that figure with deep blue eyes containing a strange brilliance, opened his mouth.
The voice sounding more cautious and apologetic than when they first met inevitably pulled Cho Yoon’s nerves.