Chapter 2

How much time had passed?

Bu Eunseol’s eyelids fluttered open. Today, a peculiar energy emanated from the iron coffin—a chill so intense that even he, a veteran of countless ‘corpse games,’ found his resolve fracturing.

I really want that robe and sword.

Summoning the image of the lustrous ritual robe and the peach-wood sword, Bu Eunseol clenched his teeth. Bu Jan-yang had never broken a promise. If he could endure until sunrise, his grandfather would surely place those treasures in his hands.

“Ugh…”

But as time stretched into eternity, the cold seeped past his skin, burrowing deep into the marrow of his bones.

Clatter-clatter-clatter.

His teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. Bu Eunseol squeezed his fists, knuckles white. No!

But the surging cold was relentless. Finally, squeezed shut against the pain, his eyes flew open as he shoved the heavy lid aside. In that instant, a cruel vision flashed before him: the promised robe and sword taking flight, soaring away into the unreachable sky.

Haah.

Defeated, Bu Eunseol lowered his head and climbed out of the coffin.

“You little rascal! I knew you couldn’t do it!”

The end of the corpse game was always marked by his grandfather’s hearty laughter, warm and teasing.

But today, silence reigned. Bu Jan-yang’s voice was nowhere to be heard.

Why is it so quiet?

A thread of unease tightened in his chest. Bu Eunseol stepped cautiously into the yard.

“Grandfather!”

He called out loudly, but only silence answered. He checked the various spots within the morgue where the bodies lay in their silent repose, blinking rapidly as panic began to set in.

“Did the constabulary call again?”

The constabulary summoned Bu Jan-yang day or night whenever a body was found far from home. If his grandfather was missing, it was highly likely he had been called away on official business.

“What…”

Disappointment etched on his face, Bu Eunseol rubbed his eyes and turned to retreat to his room.

“…!”

Crossing the courtyard, his body froze solid.

The urns containing ashes, usually stacked with reverent precision on one side of the yard, lay shattered in a chaotic heap.

“Ah!”

Bu Eunseol leaped into action, grabbing a broom and rushing over. The area looked as though a tempest had swept through, leaving devastation in its wake. Worse, the stone storage shed was scarred with sharp, deep gouges—wounds in the rock itself.

“What is this?”

He reached out, tracing one of the marks carved into the stone.

Chiiing.

A sharp metallic ring echoed through the dawn sky. Had Bu Eunseol been a master of the martial arts, he would have recognized the song of clashing treasured swords. But to his untrained ears, it was merely an ominous, alien noise.

“Grandfather,” he whispered.

Drawn by an unseen tether, he walked out the main gate. Following the lingering vibration of the sound, he looked toward the village entrance where a large, ancient tree stood sentinel. A brilliant full moon hung above its gnarled branches, illuminating the dark path in spectral silver.

Chiing.

This time, the metallic sound was shorter, sharper. A profound sense of foreboding gripped Bu Eunseol’s heart, and he broke into a desperate run.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

After what felt like hours, the silhouette of the ancient tree sharpened in his vision. And there, slumped at its base, was a familiar shadow.

“Grandfather!”

Spotting the figure, Bu Eunseol cried out, relief flooding his veins. The shadow leaning against the tree was unmistakably Bu Jan-yang.

“Grandfath—”

Bu Eunseol ran forward, a smile blooming on his face, but he froze like ice the moment the moonlight unveiled Bu Jan-yang’s face.

The long eyes that had always regarded him with infinite kindness were gone, replaced by black, empty sockets weeping blood. The thin arms that had always gently stroked his head were severed below the shoulder. The lean, broad back that had carried him warmly through sleepless nights was now exposed bone, pierced by dozens of hidden weapons like a grotesque pincushion.

Drip, drip, drip.

Tears spilled from Bu Eunseol’s eyes, tracing hot paths down his cheeks before striking the cold ground.

At that moment…

“…Is that you, Seol?”

Though his eyes were gone, Bu Jan-yang sensed his grandson’s presence. His lips parted slowly. “You little rascal… I knew you couldn’t stay put.”

Stream.

Tears flooded Bu Eunseol’s vision, blurring the horrific reality. Though blind, Bu Jan-yang wore a benevolent smile, as if he could still see his grandson clearly.

“This old grandfather must have startled you.”

Even amidst wounds and agony that would make a saint pray for death, Bu Jan-yang’s only concern was for Bu Eunseol.

“Grandfather…” His throat tight with a scream that wouldn’t come, Bu Eunseol took hesitant steps forward, reaching out to gently cup Bu Jan-yang’s cheeks. “Grandfather… Grandfather.”

“It’s alright.” Bu Jan-yang smiled and tried to move his shoulders—a phantom attempt to stroke the weeping boy’s head.

“Grandfather. Grandfather…”

“It’s alright. It’s fine.” Though eyeless, Bu Jan-yang seemed to gaze directly into his grandson’s soul. “It seems… this old grandfather must leave soon.”

“Who?”

Blood-red light flared in Bu Eunseol’s eyes. A dense killing intent, terrifying and alien on a face that had not yet lost its baby fat, surged from his entire being. “Who did this to you, Grandfather!”

His desperate cry tore through the night sky.

“There is only one thing this old grandfather wants,” Bu Jan-yang said after a long silence, his voice gentle as a spring breeze. “I don’t need any rites. Use the Bone-Dissolving Powder. Make it so there isn’t even a trace left that I ever existed in this world.”

Bu Eunseol shook his head fiercely.

Bone-Dissolving Powder was the most potent poison in existence, capable of reducing a corpse to a mere puddle. It was incredibly rare, a single drop worth more than a diamond. Bu Jan-yang, anticipating this day, had told Bu Eunseol where it was hidden.

“No!”

“Will you disobey this old grandfather’s wish?”

“Revenge… I’ll get revenge!”

“Seol-ah. If you do that… this old grandfather cannot close his eyes in peace.”

Bu Eunseol choked back a sob and nodded slowly. “Then… I’ll die too.” Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke. “Who will look after you in the afterlife, Grandfather? Who will cook your noodles? Who will help you with the rites?”

“Seol-ah.”

“You always said the afterlife isn’t much different from this world, didn’t you? I’ll go where you are, Grandfather.”

For a moment, Bu Jan-yang’s lips trembled violently. The man in black had inflicted wounds designed to keep him in hellish agony until his very last breath. Yet, he maintained his calm facade solely through the sheer force of his love for the boy.

“This old grandfather… always thought he could go peacefully…” Tears of blood flowed freely from the empty sockets. He had always considered his own life more worthless than a fallen leaf… but leaving his beloved grandson behind caused him such agony that his soul refused to depart.

“Seol-ah. This is my final request.” Though armless, Bu Jan-yang used his last remaining strength to pull his grandson into a phantom embrace. “After I die… go far away.”

Bu Jan-yang could speak no more. Blood began to pour not only from his eyes but from his mouth, ears, and nose.

Blood pouring from the seven orifices.

His life force was spent; his time had come.

“Seol-ah.” Bu Jan-yang breathed out the last dregs of his vitality to utter one final truth. “Being with you… I was so very happy.”

Thud.

The gentle smile still on his lips, Bu Jan-yang’s head slowly slumped forward.

Watching him, Bu Eunseol wrapped his arms tightly around his grandfather’s broken body, burying his face against the cooling chest, rubbing his cheek against the blood-soaked fabric again and again.

***

Upon the embalming table made of chestnut wood lay the body of a thin old man. It was Bu Jan-yang, who had breathed his last beneath the ancient tree.

“Grandfather.”

Bu Eunseol gazed at the body, his face swollen from crying. He had brought a cart to carefully transport him back to the Ping’an Mortuary.

“Let’s… live happily in the afterlife too.”

Bu Jan-yang had wanted his grandson to leave the village and live a long, ordinary life. But Bu Eunseol couldn’t do that. He would perform the rites one last time, and then follow him.

Splash.

He soaked a clean cloth in a basin of water and began to reverently wipe the blood from the cold skin. As his hands moved in their familiar rhythm, they suddenly froze. Examining the wound on the shoulder, Bu Eunseol’s eyes turned bloodshot.

“Grandfather…”

The severed surface of the arm was clean, like cut glass. Even for the greatest master under the heavens, it would be impossible to simultaneously sever both arms of a resisting opponent without the slightest deviation. There was only one way this could happen.

The victim had willingly extended his arms.

You did it to protect me, didn’t you?

Bu Eunseol realized the truth. To protect something more precious than his own life, his grandfather had offered up his own arms as sacrifice.

The killer cut off both arms… gouged out his eyes… and severed the ligaments…

Tears of blood flowed from Bu Eunseol’s eyes as he clutched the cloth. The killer had not only ravaged Bu Jan-yang in the cruelest way imaginable but had ensured he died in prolonged, exquisite agony.

Flash.

That blood-red light flared in Bu Eunseol’s eyes again. He could never forgive this monster. An overwhelming urge to hunt him down and tear him limb from limb seized his heart.

“I have to find him.”

Bu Eunseol began to meticulously examine the scars left on the body.

The techniques used by martial artists were like their signatures. Even if disciples from the same school executed the same move, the power and angle would vary infinitely.

I can find him.

Bu Eunseol had spent years tirelessly studying the scars of the dead alongside Bu Jan-yang. Just by looking at the wounds, he could reconstruct the death—the situation, the posture, the fatal technique.

“From top to bottom…”

As he examined the cross-section of the shoulder, the most bizarre sword strike imaginable flashed through his mind. Shockingly, the killer had attacked from bottom to top to sever both arms. Sword techniques that rose from below were rare in the Murim. Furthermore, the killer had altered the trajectory mid-strike after cutting the arms to pierce both eyes. This was definitely not an Orthodox sword art; it was a blade from the Demonic Path.

“But this movement is impossible…”

No matter how bizarre the art, the executor was still bound by flesh and bone. Unless one could freely lengthen and shorten their skeleton, swinging a sword in such a manner was impossible.

“No… it is possible.”

Suddenly, Bu Eunseol recalled a lesson from Bu Jan-yang.

“There are countless strange arts in the Murim. Among them are the arts known as Flexibility Art, which allow one to freely extend and contract bones and muscles.”

“Tianzhu Flexibility Art.”

The killer was undoubtedly a master swordsman who had learned the Tianzhu Flexibility Art.

Next, Bu Eunseol examined the back. Ninety-three distinct hidden weapon marks remained there.

“How could someone throw ninety-three hidden weapons with one hand? Could it be… Myriad Petals Rain…?”

Recalling the ultimate technique of the Sichuan Tang Clan, Bu Eunseol shook his head. Even the Tang Clan’s technique, famed as unparalleled, could only launch sixty-six projectiles at most.

“Was there an accomplice? No.” Shaking his head, Bu Eunseol’s eyes gleamed with cold deduction. “He used a hidden weapon device from Evil Fragrance.”

Evil Fragrance.

Throughout the history of the Murim, Evil Fragrance had maintained its position as a preeminent family of assassins. It was said their master artisans could create devices capable of firing hundreds of hidden weapons in a single volley.

“And the poisoning symptoms…”

The underside of the tongue and the inside of the fingernails were stained black. This specific discoloration pointed to an extremely potent toxin of the Rotting Flesh Decaying Blood type, effective even through skin contact.

Bu Eunseol bit his lip until it bled.

“A master who has learned the strange foreign art of Tianzhu Flexibility Art, possesses an unparalleled hidden weapon device from Evil Fragrance, and uses Rotting Flesh Decaying Blood poison.”

There couldn’t be many such individuals in the Murim.

Bu Eunseol cried out in a low voice, a vow etched in blood.

“I will find you. No matter what.”