The quarters of the Deathly Shadow Squad, situated at the desolate edge of the Demonic Palace’s Eastern Gate, lay steeped in a heavy, suffocating silence.
Across the internal training ground, paved with cold bluestone slabs, some twenty martial artists lay sprawled on their backs, staring listlessly at the sky. These were the members of the First and Third Teams, their spirits seemingly evaporated under the glare of the sun.
Rumble.
The bamboo forest rustled as Wi Cheon-gyeong and the Second Team emerged, drenched in sweat from their morning drills.
“What are you doing here?” Wi Cheon-gyeong demanded, wiping his brow.
From his position on the ground, Won Se-mun waved a dismissive hand, not bothering to lift his head. “Just pass by. We’re tired.”
“What does fatigue have to do with martial arts practice?”
“What is the point of practicing?” Won Se-mun sighed, his head lolling to the side. “When the Squad Captain isn’t here.”
Wi Cheon-gyeong’s gaze wavered, the pupils trembling like ripples on disturbed water.
Until now, the squad had waited in stoic silence for news of Bu Eunseol. But as days turned into weeks with no word, the patience of the First and Third Teams had fractured.
“Rumor has it that all the search parties tracking the Squad Captain’s traces have been recalled,” one member muttered.
“That is just a rumor. Nothing has been confirmed.”
“There’s no hope anyway.”
“Won Se-mun!”
“Don’t shout.”
Groaning as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, Won Se-mun spoke, his voice drained of life. “Without the Squad Captain, we’re just empty shells without souls, aren’t we?”
Wi Cheon-gyeong found he had no retort.
The Deathly Shadow Squad had originally been a collection of ruffians who knew no fear of heaven or earth, running wild without direction. But upon meeting the solid pillar that was Bu Eunseol, they had come to their senses, their latent talents blossoming under his silent leadership.
Just as they were striving to accomplish something greater, the pillar had collapsed.
Step, step.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel broke the melancholy. Dozens of martial artists halted in front of the quarters. At their forefront stood an arrogant-looking middle-aged man wearing a sly, predatory smile.
It was Gok Jin-dong, the Captain of the Life-Severing Squad. He was the man who had once mocked them as rootless gutter-rats, only to be humiliated by Won Se-mun in the past.
“Hahaha. Having fun, are we?”
He poked his head through the gate, grinning at the sprawled bodies of the First Team. “Oho, everyone is taking a good rest.”
The eyes of the Deathly Shadow members sharpened into axe blades. His tone made the purpose of his visit obvious; he was a vulture circling a carcass.
“Captain Gok Jin-dong.” Wi Cheon-gyeong frowned, stepping forward. “What business do you have?”
“Business? What business? Just stopped by while passing.” Gok Jin-dong smirked, smoothing his robes. “The Deathly Shadow Captain is still nowhere to be seen, I see.”
“None of your concern.”
“No, I was just worried.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, you haven’t heard? I suppose… without a Captain, you wouldn’t be privy to the results of the high council.” Gok Jin-dong grinned broadly, revealing yellowed teeth. “The order came down a few days ago. To recall the search parties.”
“Is that true?”
Sparks flew from Wi Cheon-gyeong’s eyes, his composure fracturing. No matter the rivalry, joking about a missing captain was a breach of martial etiquette.
But recall meant abandonment.
Has the main palace truly given up on finding him?
At that moment, twenty more members came rushing down from the bamboo forest toward the training ground. Leading them were Myo Cheon-woo and Yoo Woon-ryong, the leaders of the Fourth and Fifth Teams.
Descending from the slope, Myo Cheon-woo frowned upon seeing the confrontation. Sensing the volatility in the air, he looked to Wi Cheon-gyeong.
“What is going on?”
“It seems the main palace has given up on the Squad Captain.”
“Given up?”
“They say the search parties have been recalled.”
“Kuhuhu.” Gok Jin-dong chuckled, shaking his head with mock sympathy. “What a pity. For this to happen as soon as you became Team Leaders…”
The mockery died in his throat.
Terrifying, oppressive energy radiated instantly from Myo Cheon-woo and Yoo Woon-ryong.
Ah, right. Those two were Ten Demonic Successors.
Gok Jin-dong paled. The martial prowess of these two was not that of mere squad members; they were equal to, if not greater than, Second-Grade Captains of the Demonic Palace.
Realizing he had stepped on the tail of a sleeping tiger, Gok Jin-dong cleared his throat and pivoted on his heel.
“Then, excuse me. Ahem.”
The Life-Severing Squad scrambled to follow their retreating leader like frightened mice.
“So it ends like this,” Won Se-mun sighed into the returning silence.
The light in the eyes of the Deathly Shadow Squad members extinguished. With Bu Eunseol gone, the squad would dissolve. They would return to being rootless drifters, ghosts haunting the halls of the Demonic Palace.
“This is laughable.”
Yoo Woon-ryong looked down at the despondent men and laughed coldly. “Always crying ‘Squad Captain, Squad Captain’… is this all you amount to?”
Myo Cheon-woo waved a calming hand. “Leave them be. These kids still don’t know him well.”
The members looked up, bewildered by the calm exchange between the two monsters.
“Then, are you saying the Squad Captain is alive?” Wi Cheon-gyeong asked, desperate for a lifeline.
Yoo Woon-ryong burst into gloomy, rattling laughter. “Is he alive? Hehehe.”
Then, as abruptly as he had started, his face turned cold as ice.
“You really know nothing.”
Deciding it wasn’t worth wasting breath, Yoo Woon-ryong addressed his Fifth Team. “Today’s training ends here.”
He returned to his quarters without a backward glance. The remaining members watched his retreating back, jaws agape.
“No, that man… if he’s going to speak, he should finish it!” Won Se-mun grumbled, unable to bear the ambiguity. He turned slyly to Myo Cheon-woo. “What on earth is Team Leader Yoo talking about?”
Myo Cheon-woo smiled calmly. “He’s mocking you.”
“Mocking what?”
“You cry for the Captain every day, yet you actually know nothing about him.” Myo Cheon-woo looked down at Won Se-mun’s pained expression. “He came to Hell Island without having properly learned a single martial art.”
Myo Cheon-woo’s eyes deepened, reflecting memories of a hellish training ground. “Yet in just two months, he surpassed all the peerless geniuses who had systematically learned martial arts since childhood.”
The squad’s attention snapped to him.
“And even with all those geniuses as his enemies, he proudly survived and became one of the Ten Demonic Successors. Do you understand what that means?”
“You mean… the Squad Captain became a Successor without even learning martial arts?” Won Se-mun asked, incredulous.
“That is correct.”
“What kind of joke is…”
But there was no deception in Myo Cheon-woo’s eyes. Only then did the members realize the terrifying truth of his words.
What kind of person was the Squad Captain?
They remembered how he had led them. How he had survived impossible missions. How he had walked through fire without getting burned.
“Yes, Bu Eunseol is that kind of guy,” Myo Cheon-woo said with steel-hard conviction.
“But they say it’s the Projectile King,” Won Se-mun countered weakly. “Not just anyone, but that Projectile King who foams at the mouth and throws a fit whenever he sees a demonic figure.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s the Projectile King or even the Three Venerables. That guy will definitely return alive.”
In that instant, light flashed in the eyes of the Deathly Shadow Squad members again. The absolute faith Myo Cheon-woo held was contagious—because deep down, they held it too. They just hadn’t realized it until now.
“Come to think of it, we skipped cultivation for three days.”
Jo Nam-cheon, who had been crouching in a corner, jumped up. Clearing his throat, he barked at the Third Team. “We rested too much. Let’s start right now.”
Other members slowly lifted themselves from the ground, dusting off their despair.
“Yeah, I don’t know when the last time we rested this much was.”
“Let’s surprise the Captain when he comes.”
But something was strange. Won Se-mun alone remained crouching, rooted to his spot.
“Won Se-mun. Still not up?”
When Jo Nam-cheon nudged him with his foot, Won Se-mun looked up with a gloomy expression.
“Actually… I had a dream a few days ago. A dream about the Squad Captain.”
The atmosphere hardened instantly.
Won Se-mun possessed a unique ability: precognitive dreams. Though often mocked, his visions had consistently proven accurate to a mystical degree.
“A dream about the Squad Captain… so?” Jo Nam-cheon asked hurriedly.
Won Se-mun blew his nose loudly. “The Squad Captain was trapped in some massive great hall… and everything collapsed. Boulders as big as Mount Tai were falling.”
“Rocks? And then?”
“I was so shocked I woke up, so I don’t know the situation after that. But…”
They didn’t need to hear the rest. Won Se-mun believed Bu Eunseol had been crushed to death.
Rustle, rustle.
The sound of many footsteps approached from the main gate. Ten maidservants entered, bowing respectfully.
“What is the matter?” Wi Cheon-gyeong asked.
One of the maidservants bowed her head. “The Spiritual Cleansing Hall Master has ordered that from today, this place will be used by the warriors of the Ghostly Shadow Squad. You are to clear out.”
“What? The Ghostly Shadow Squad?”
Jo Nam-cheon’s face went rigid.
Giving the perfectly fine quarters of the Deathly Shadow Squad to another unit was a tacit admission from the administration: The Deathly Shadow Squad is defunct.
“Damn it!”
Hearing those words, Won Se-mun struck the ground and collapsed, prostrating himself in the dust. “Because the Captain is gone, the main palace doesn’t even intend to keep our squad alive!”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. No one knows anything for sure yet.”
“I told you I saw it in my dream! The Captain struggling in a collapsing hall!” He sobbed, face buried in the dirt. “It’s useless anyway. Without the Captain, it’s useless…”
As Won Se-mun sobbed, Jo Nam-cheon’s shoulders shook, tears finally breaking through his tough facade.
Bu Eunseol had been the first leader to acknowledge them as individuals, not disposable tools. As long as he was gone, the Deathly Shadow Squad could not exist.
“Yeah, if the Squad Captain isn’t here, there is no squad…” Jo Nam-cheon muttered, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.
Tap, tap, tap.
A middle-aged man in civil official robes entered through the main gate, surveying the weeping men with mild confusion.
“I am Heo Yu, in charge of cleaning matters for the Spiritual Cleansing Hall.”
When Heo Yu politely clasped his hands, Jo Nam-cheon wiped his tears and cleared his throat aggressively. “What brings you here?”
Heo Yu scanned the group before speaking in a ringing voice. “It is the Pavilion Master’s order that all members of the Deathly Shadow Squad move your quarters to the Graceful Refined Pavilion… ah. Apologies. The Deathly Shadow Pavilion, the First-Class Residence at the Northern Gate.”
Won Se-mun shot up from the ground, eyes wide. “What does that mean? First-Class Residence?”
“The order just came down.”
“The Captain isn’t here, yet they’re sending us to a First-Class Residence?”
Heo Yu blinked. “By Squad Captain… do you mean the Deathly Shadow Squad Captain?”
“Is there another Captain of ours?”
“He entered the Palace today, however.”
“What? What nonsense is that?”
“It is not nonsense…” Heo Yu looked baffled by their reaction. “He met the Grand Commander already in the morning, and had a private audience with our Pavilion Master an hour ago.”
“Our Captain… is alive?”
It was an unbelievable reversal. With tears and snot streaming down his face, Won Se-mun shouted again. “The Squad Captain is alive!”
Startled, Heo Yu stepped back. “Yes, yes.”
“You idiot!”
Enraged, Jo Nam-cheon kicked the face of the kneeling Won Se-mun.
“What? Struggling in a collapsing great hall? Crushed by rocks?”
Perhaps furious at having his emotions manipulated by Won Se-mun’s nonsense, Jo Nam-cheon kicked him repeatedly. “You stone-headed fortune teller!”
“It’s true! I really had a vivid dream where I saw him!”
Though beaten, Won Se-mun wore a dazed, blissful expression, seemingly immune to pain.
Captain, our Captain is alive!
Step, step.
With the sound of low, measured footsteps, a shadow passed through the main gate.
He wore a glossy gray martial uniform, and on his shoulders sat epaulets with a magnificent feather pattern—like the wings of a Roc—decorated with jewels.
It was Bu Eunseol.
“S-Squad Captain!”
Seeing him in the flesh, the squad members cried out, their voices cracking with relief. Bu Eunseol, known to have been killed by the Projectile King, had returned with an even more imposing presence.
“Bu Eunseol, what on earth happened…” Myo Cheon-woo began, approaching him.
“Squaaaad—Leader!”
Won Se-mun sprinted over and tackled Bu Eunseol’s leg in a desperate hug. “What on earth happened?”
As Won Se-mun sobbed into his trousers like a child, Bu Eunseol sighed.
“Something happened.”
“What kind of something?”
“There were circumstances.”
The eyes of the Deathly Shadow Squad turned deadpan.
Bu Eunseol was a man of too few words. He was trying to brush off being missing for over a month with the single phrase ‘circumstances’.
“Bu Eunseol, explain properly,” Myo Cheon-woo groaned, slumping his shoulders. “Do you know how much the members worried about you?”
Realizing he had no choice, Bu Eunseol offered a slightly longer explanation. “I was trapped in a certain place. And while breaking through those traps…”
“Did rocks and hidden weapons fall in a massive great hall by any chance?” Won Se-mun interrupted, eyes flashing with vindication.
Bu Eunseol blinked. “How did you know?”
Whack!
Spinning around, Won Se-mun punched Jo Nam-cheon squarely in the face.
“See! I told you!”
“You crazy bastard…” With blood streaming from his nose, Jo Nam-cheon clenched his fist, then shook his head and laughed. “Fine! Whatever. As long as the Captain returned safely.”
“Trapped? What about the Projectile King?” Myo Cheon-woo asked, confused. “The search party said there were signs of a fierce battle.”
Recalling Bukgung Ryeong’s face, Bu Eunseol shook his head. “We did not fight properly. No, we couldn’t.”
A bitter smile lingered on his lips; clearly, the situation had been complicated.
But that was all.
Bu Eunseol closed his mouth and slid into his office. As always, he left without explaining the details. Taciturn to a fault, speaking only what was absolutely necessary.
The members watching him could only gape, their leader as enigmatic as ever.