“How on earth did you do that?”
When a visibly stunned Jong-jeong Yak stepped forward to ask, Bu Eunseol answered with characteristic calm.
“I neutralized the toxicity temporarily by injecting internal energy.”
Without breaking his concentration, he channeled the Polarity Reversal True Energy once more.
Hummm.
A low resonance vibrated through the air. As two distinct streams of searing heat surged through the Gate of Life Acupoint, color began to creep back into the assassin’s face, which had been as pale as a wax effigy.
The Polarity Reversal True Energy, a harmonic fusion of Yin and Yang, was the natural antithesis of poison qi. While Bu Eunseol’s resistance to toxins was partly due to his profound cultivation, it was this unique energy naturally purging foreign substances that made him nearly impervious.
“Impossible.”
Jong-jeong Yak watched the steam rise from the assassin’s skin, unable to reconcile the sight with her knowledge. Although various internal arts existed in the Murim, no known technique could neutralize a systemic toxin simply by injecting raw qi.
“He is talking nonsense.”
Neung Jo-un scoffed, stepping into Jong-jeong Yak’s personal space to whisper, his voice dripping with cynicism. “He likely fed the man a secret antidote beforehand.”
Wandering Vagrants were known to carry antidotes as a matter of survival. Hearing this, Jong-jeong Yak gave a faint, uncertain nod.
“Since vagrants handle all manner of dirty work while roaming the Murim… I suppose he must have some trick up his sleeve.”
“Indeed. The man boasts too much for his station.”
While the two whispered, Bu Eunseol ignored them entirely.
The poison has already seized his internal organs.
He scrutinized the assassin, a frown creasing his brow. The man had swallowed a toxin so vicious that even half a gak of continuous energy transfer had only bought them a fleeting moment of lucidity.
“Who ordered you?”
“I… I don’t know…” The assassin’s head lolled, terror etched into his features. “I really… don’t know.”
Jong-jeong Yak lunged forward, her patience snapping. “Then where are the stolen Violet Essence Elixirs?”
The assassin remained silent, shaking his head weakly. Watching quietly, Bu Eunseol doubled the output of the Polarity Reversal True Energy.
The assassin’s body convulsed, turning a violent shade of red as thick veins bulged across his forehead. The clash between the poison saturating his organs and the fierce energy Eunseol poured in inflicted an agony beyond words.
“Se-secret… Market.”
With that final, gasped confession, the assassin stopped breathing.
His internal organs had liquefied, and his blood had hardened into sludge. It was a state of ruin from which even a Great Luo Immortal could not return.
“Secret Market?”
The focus drained from Jong-jeong Yak’s eyes. The Secret Market was a catch-all term for the illicit bazaars that sprouted like poisonous mushrooms across the regions.
Neung Jo-un, his expression blank, nodded slowly. “Since they cannot openly distribute treasures like the Violet Essence Elixir, it seems they intend to launder them through the black market.”
No matter how bold the thieves, openly selling spiritual elixirs belonging to the Mount Hua Sect—and destined for the Martial Righteous Alliance—would be suicide. But in the lawless shadows of the Secret Market, they could dispose of anything, even the Great Returning Elixir of Shaolin.
The Secret Market opens once a month… they likely haven’t moved the product yet.
Grasping a slender thread of hope, Jong-jeong Yak turned to the two standing martial artists.
“Woo-myeong, Jeong-hak. You two assist the wounded and return to the Alliance.” She then pivoted to Neung Jo-un and the remaining able-bodied men, her voice regaining its command. “The rest, follow this Law Enforcement Junior Commander. We chase the trail of the Violet Essence Elixirs immediately.”
Aside from Neung Jo-un, the other martial artists looked exhausted, their faces dark with fatigue. Chasing a phantom into the underworld was dangerous and reckless. But how could they refuse the direct order of the Law Enforcement Junior Commander?
“Understood.”
They clasped their hands in resignation.
***
In the past, black markets flourished under the iron grip of the Hao Sect, the syndicate that once controlled the Murim’s underbelly. However, as the Hao Sect faded into a toothless tiger, famous in name only, the Unorthodox Factions dominating the provinces began to seize control.
The Secret Market.
Settled in remote villages or hidden valleys, these markets traded in stolen goods, hidden weapons, explosives, narcotics, and lethal poisons—smuggled contraband whose very existence was taboo in the orthodox Murim. To evade government raids, the markets were ephemeral, appearing irregularly in secluded locations, moving like a ghost in the night.
The organizers not only took a cut of every transaction but also sold the time and location of the market itself for a hefty information fee.
Deep in the mountains, the stench of incense mingled with the damp earth of a public cemetery.
Oil lamps flickered like will-o’-the-wisps, illuminating stalls spread among the gravestones. Figures wandered through the mist wearing masks, nameless ghosts in a city of the dead.
Clack. Clack.
A woman concealing her face beneath a wide-brimmed bamboo hat and a man posing as her servant ascended the mountain path. Reaching the cemetery where the market was in full swing, the woman paused to catch her breath.
“Phew.”
She scanned the winding path illuminated by the ghostly lamps. Beneath the gnarled branches of a massive tree, a group of ferocious-looking men from the Unorthodox Factions stood guard over a collection of large crates.
Glass bottles filled with viscous, blood-red liquid sat beside wooden boxes carved with antique patterns.
“How much for all of these?”
At the woman’s question, the guard snorted derisively.
“These are not for sale.”
“Then?”
“These are lot items for the auction. Move along.”
“Auction?”
As the woman blinked, the man chuckled low in his throat. “First time at the Secret Market? High-priced items go to the block.” He jerked a thumb toward a clearing deeper in the cemetery. “This is just temporary storage. You seem to have coin, so go take a look. Rare things appear tonight.”
“Alright.”
Her eyes twinkling with interest beneath the brim of her hat, the woman moved toward the indicated clearing without delay.
Lanterns hung from the trees, casting a bright, harsh light over a wide space. A curtain had been erected in the center, framing a table and a podium. On the platform stood a man wearing a monkey mask, the master of ceremonies.
“Then, I will proceed to the next item immediately.”
The monkey-masked man pointed to a small wooden box on the table. “This item is Rotting Flesh Decaying Blood Poison.”
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd.
Rotting Flesh Decaying Blood Poison. One of the extreme toxins strictly forbidden in the Murim. A single drop would transmute the victim’s entire blood supply into more of the poison. By harvesting just three or four robust adults, one could manufacture nearly eighteen liters of the substance. Merely possessing it marked one as a public enemy of the orthodox world.
Yet here it was, sold openly under the moonlight.
“I will start the bidding at thirty thousand nyang.”
“Thirty thousand!”
“Thirty-five thousand!”
The price skyrocketed, driven by malice and greed. Eventually, the vial was sold to an old woman veiling her face with purple cloth for the staggering sum of two hundred thousand nyang.
Following the poison, a parade of rarities crossed the block—genuine hidden weapons from the Sichuan Tang Family, live spiritual creatures thought extinct.
After about one meal’s time had passed, the atmosphere shifted.
Thud.
A large wooden box, plated with gold, was heaved onto the table. Even before the lid was lifted, a sweet, subtle fragrance drifted through the clearing. It was the same box she had spotted earlier.
“This item is the Violet Essence Elixir, a spiritual medicine crafted by the Mount Hua Sect from generations of gathered herbs.”
The auctioneer’s eyes flashed behind the monkey mask.
“The lot contains a whopping fifty pills. As they are precious beyond measure, I will start at one hundred thousand nyang.”
The woman in the bamboo hat raised her hand instantly.
“One hundred thousand.”
Across the clearing, a fat man in a mask raised his hand.
“Two hundred thousand.”
The woman countered. “Two hundred forty thousand.”
“Three hundred thousand.”
The price of the stolen elixirs began to climb vertically.
“Five hundred thousand nyang.”
When the fat man shouted the exorbitant sum, the woman, who had been bidding with such fervor, clamped her mouth shut.
“Five hundred thousand going once… any more?”
The woman lowered her head in apparent defeat.
“Fifty Violet Essence Elixirs sold for five hundred thousand nyang!”
As soon as the gavel fell, the fat man signaled his sturdy servants. They hauled a large chest of silver forward.
“Five hundred thousand. Count it.”
“Correct. Take them.”
The fat man tucked the wooden box into his bosom and vanished from the auction house. As if on cue, the Unorthodox Faction men began dismantling the platform. The auction was over.
Watching the scene, the woman nodded slowly, her hand drifting to the hilt of the sword at her waist.
This was Jong-jeong Yak.
Unorthodox thugs wouldn’t have the brains to steal the Violet Essence Elixirs. If I beat the organizer, I can find the source.
However, she intended to retrieve the elixirs first. Returning to the Alliance empty-handed after losing men would be a disaster. Just as she prepared to draw her blade—
[Do not do it.]
A man who had been silently observing the auction stepped into her personal space, projecting his voice directly into her mind.
It was Bu Eunseol.
[The probability that the box contains fifty Violet Essence Elixirs is almost zero.]
[What do you mean? I clearly smelled the scent from the box earlier.]
[For the scent of fifty pills, it was too faint. At best, there are two or three inside.]
[The number doesn’t matter.] Jong-jeong Yak’s mental voice was sharp. [If I can’t catch the culprit, I must find and retrieve even a token amount. I cannot return empty-handed.]
This investigation was a gamble she had taken against pressure from her superiors.
[If you intend to seize them, do it at the destination. That auction was not normal.]
[Not normal?]
[The theft of the elixirs happened some time ago. What are the odds that the auction occurs the precise moment you arrive at the Secret Market?]
Jong-jeong Yak blinked. The timing was indeed too perfect to be coincidence.
[It could be a laundering layer to break the trail.]
[Exactly. We must watch further to see where that fat man takes them.]
Jong-jeong Yak nodded, her eyes regaining their focus. [So the bidder might be a middleman… or the final buyer.]
She lacked experience in the ruthless currents of the Gangho, but her mind was sharp. She wouldn’t have become a Law Enforcement Junior Commander otherwise.
[Or this, too, might be a trap.]
She realizes quickly, Eunseol noted.
[Exactly so.]
[Alright. I can’t refuse an opportunity to catch the tail.]
Jong-jeong Yak turned to Neung Jo-un, who had been posing as her servant.
[Prepare all members down the mountain. Do not lose that man’s tracks.]
Nodding, Neung Jo-un slipped away. Watching the fat man disappear into the dark, Jong-jeong Yak clenched her fists.
***
An Eight-Flag Carriage, carved with splendid decorations, rumbled away from the Secret Market and along the official road. Inside sat the fat man who had won the elixirs.
The carriage finally rolled to a halt in front of a sprawling estate situated by a moonlit lake.
Song Clan Manor.
It was the residence of a wealthy merchant, set a fair distance from the village. A faint doubt rose in Jong-jeong Yak’s eyes as she tracked from the shadows. Did the lord of the Song Clan Manor covet the elixirs?
Rustle.
Pushing aside complex thoughts, she vaulted onto the roof of the manor, observing the courtyard below.
I must be cautious.
Having tasted bitterness at the Superior River Escort Bureau, she knew that against those aiming for her life, her command tablet was just a piece of wood.
Thud. Thud.
The fat man disembarked and, rather than heading for the main quarters, walked toward an old warehouse on the outskirts of the estate. Clutching the wooden box, he entered the dusty structure and emerged empty-handed moments later.
“It seems there is a secret storage in there,” Neung Jo-un whispered.
Jong-jeong Yak nodded. They wouldn’t leave national treasures in a derelict shack unless it concealed something else.
“It’s too early. We enter around the third watch.”
As the night deepened and the moon climbed high, Jong-jeong Yak addressed her team. “Adjutant Neung and I will investigate. The rest of you, wait here in concealment.”
“I will go too.”
When Bu Eunseol stepped forward, Jong-jeong Yak shook her head. “This is an official investigation of the Martial Righteous Alliance.”
Since Bu Eunseol was not a sworn member, he was barred from the site. Implicitly, she was worried—a Wandering Vagrant in a treasure warehouse was like a cat in a fish market.
But Bu Eunseol stood firm. “I cannot allow that.”
“What?”
“Did you not agree to follow my judgment regarding your escort?”
“It’s just an inspection. You are not Alliance personnel.”
“I am merely doing my job.”
Neung Jo-un bristled, stepping between them. “Hey. If you’re a vagrant, act like one. Don’t butt in where you don’t belong.”
“I am earning my wage, so you stay put.”
As Bu Eunseol’s attitude remained immovable, Jong-jeong Yak hesitated. The memory of Dam Yu-yeon’s request surfaced in her mind.
—No matter what happens, trust and rely on Young Hero Seol. Understand?
Sister Dam was not one for idle words.
“Alright. Follow me.”
“Junior Commander!” Neung Jo-un hissed. “Are you going to pay the three thousand nyang? I emptied my own purse to hire him.”
…She bought me cheap.
The down payment Dam Yu-yeon had given Bu Eunseol was one hundred thousand nyang. Completion would yield another hundred thousand. Yet, believing him to be merely a High-Grade Wandering Vagrant, Jong-jeong Yak had “hired” him for a pittance.
If she knew he was the successor of the Demonic Palace? She would likely faint on the spot.
“Instead, as contracted, you must not divulge what you see and hear. Understood?”
“Agreed.”
Eventually, the three entered the warehouse.
The interior was piled with crates of weapons, shelves lined with strong bows, and dust motes dancing in the slivers of moonlight.
“No matter how I look, I don’t see anything like a mechanism.”
Neung Jo-un frowned, scanning the room. He had searched thoroughly, but the wooden box was nowhere to be seen.
“Indeed.” Jong-jeong Yak wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Had the man removed the box while they weren’t looking?
“It is over there.”
Bu Eunseol pointed to a corner wall where rusty weapons were propped against storage crates.
“A mechanism is installed near there. There is a hidden door.”
Having survived the myriad traps of the Martial Emperor’s Secret Vault, he could spot formation mechanisms without even needing to enter a state of Spirit Communion with the Empty Mind.
“Hidden door?”
“That is so.”
Neung Jo-un laughed hollowly. “You don’t even know the basics of searching. Look at the spiderwebs strung across the rack. That is proof that human hands haven’t touched it in years.”
“Is that so.”
Bu Eunseol nodded impassively and walked toward the rusty weapons. Ignoring the cobwebs, he gripped the hilt of a corroded sword and pulled.
Rumble.
With a deep grinding sound, a section of the wall slid back, revealing a dark passage leading underground.
“Kuhum.”
Avoiding the stinging gazes of Jong-jeong Yak and Bu Eunseol, Neung Jo-un coughed into his fist. “Excellent. The basics of searching are to investigate places no one suspects first.”
“…”
Passing Neung Jo-un with a cold expression, Jong-jeong Yak examined the entrance.
“Huh? This…”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked closely at the spiderweb strung across the threshold of the hidden door. A flash of realization sparked in her gaze.