A lone sailing ship cut through the vast, open sea. Outwardly, it appeared no different from any ordinary vessel, yet its sixteen towering masts were dyed a stark black.
Swoosh!
Atop the deck, as the ship sliced through the wind, stood an old man, his lion’s mane of hair whipping about him. It was Hyeok Ryeon-eung, the Law Enforcement Hall Master of the Demonic Palace and the Head Instructor for the Ten Demonic Successors project.
“Hmm.” Gazing toward a solitary island visible far in the distance, he spoke in a low voice. “I just don’t understand.”
“What is it that you don’t understand, sir?” asked Baek Jeon-cheon, who stood beside him.
Hyeok Ryeon-eung shook his head. “That boy, Bu Eunseol.”
“Ah.”
“His physical foundation isn’t exceptional, and there’s no sign he’s even learned martial arts properly. Yet, he defeated the one who inherited Muk Hon’s blade art in a single move.”
Hyeok Ryeon-eung was a master of practical combat, hardened by surviving countless life-or-death battles. But even he couldn’t fathom how a boy like Bu Eunseol had managed to defeat Neung Woon-gang.
“Judging by his movements, he already knew the counter-technique. But that simply makes no sense.”
Standing nearby, Baek Jeon-cheon smiled faintly. “From what I observed, it seemed he watched Neung Woon-gang’s blade techniques during the melee and devised a counter on the spot.”
“Impossible,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung scoffed, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. “If a child could find the weaknesses in techniques merely by watching, he’d be an exceptional talent surpassing even the legendary Grand Divine Demonic Emperor.”
“No, sir. It’s just that I noticed him carefully observing the fallen participants.”
“Being able to discern an opponent’s techniques by studying wounds is something only seasoned veterans who’ve rolled around the Gangho for decades can do. And even then, only if they’re well-versed in the martial arts of both the Orthodox and Demonic paths.”
“That is true, of course.”
Both Hyeok Ryeon-eung and Baek Jeon-cheon possessed exceptional insight. However, neither could have possibly guessed that Bu Eunseol had spent his childhood following Bu Jan-yang, studying the causes of death left on corpses as if reading a book.
“Even if he did know the weakness,” Hyeok Ryeon-eung continued, “countering with a single strike was practically suicide. What if Neung Woon-gang hadn’t been careless and had followed up with consecutive techniques? No matter how I think about it, it just doesn’t add up.”
“Be that as it may, he succeeded, did he not?” Baek Jeon-cheon smiled calmly. “Perhaps he simply gambled with his life.”
“Gambled?” Hyeok Ryeon-eung shook his head again. “In a life-or-death battle, there’s no such thing as mere luck. There’s definitely something more to that child.”
Though he didn’t say it outright, Hyeok Ryeon-eung seemed displeased that Bu Eunseol had defeated Neung Woon-gang—a favorite—to become a candidate for the Ten Demonic Successors.
“Whatever it is, it will be revealed soon enough,” Baek Jeon-cheon said with a shrug. “Our job is simply to produce the Ten Demonic Successors.”
The ship was now drawing near the solitary island. Hyeok Ryeon-eung, lost in deep thought, finally nodded.
“Indeed.”
***
Bu Eunseol opened his eyes.
He slowly sat up and looked around, his expression turning peculiar for two reasons.
My wounds.
Covered in injuries large and small from the second trial, he had lost consciousness immediately after passing. But now, the gashes and tears inflicted by the Essence-Slicing Blade were meticulously stitched, treated with Golden Wound Ointment, and even bandaged. There was no pain, and his body felt surprisingly light. It seemed a highly skilled physician had treated him personally.
I am on a ship, going somewhere.
The second reason for his surprise was that he was lying in a cabin aboard a vessel at sea. All around him, boys and girls dressed in martial arts attire of various styles and colors were staring intently at him. He recognized a few faces; they were likely the participants who had passed the first trial due to their superior physical foundations.
“…”
Bu Eunseol calmly sat up, but the expressions on the faces of the other boys and girls were far from welcoming. While there might have been occasional flickers of curiosity, the predominant gazes were filled with dismissal and contempt.
I’m used to looks like these.
An ordinary person might have been flustered by such intense scrutiny. But Bu Eunseol, having worked as a mortician, had endured countless instances of scorn from the living. Even if hundreds more people stared at him like this, it wouldn’t bother him in the slightest.
Rumble.
Just then, a low vibration ran through the ship, and a quiet voice sounded from outside the cabin. “Disembark.”
The boys inside the cabin moved mechanically, filing off the ship. As they did, the desolate landscape of an island came into view.
“This place is…” someone murmured.
The black-robed warrior leading the boys stated flatly, “This is Hell Island.”
Hell Island. The name perfectly matched the island’s scenery. A solitary isle, impossible to leave without a ship. At its center rose a colossal stone mountain, devoid of a single blade of grass or tree. Gazing upon the barren landscape felt like stepping into the underworld itself to atone for the sins of one’s life.
“What are you spacing out for?” The black-robed warrior standing at the front tapped the shoulder of Bu Eunseol, who was standing dazedly at the very back. “Move along quickly.”
In that instant, Bu Eunseol’s eyes widened.
It was this bad?
The shoulder the warrior had tapped was precisely where a chunk of muscle had been torn away. Yet, it had healed so completely that he felt no pain even from the touch.
As long as you don’t die, there are physicians here capable of perfectly healing even the most severe wounds.
This was a crucial piece of information. And only Bu Eunseol, who had survived the second trial, knew it.
“These are your quarters.”
Following the long, snake-like procession, they arrived at the large stone mountain they had seen upon disembarking. Looking closer, Bu Eunseol could see numerous caves dotting its surface.
Were these man-made? No, impossible.
The colossal stone mountain was too vast to be carved by human hands, yet it had far too many caves to have formed naturally.
“Leave your existing clothes and weapons. Take one set of these clothes and one sword each.” The black-robed warrior pointed to a wide table nearby.
On the table lay piles of drab, loose-fitting clothes. Although they weren’t sized, they had drawstrings at the waist and chest, making them wearable, albeit awkwardly. Beside the clothes lay ordinary iron swords, the kind one could buy at a blacksmith’s for twenty nyang.
“Enter whichever cave you wish. The choice is yours.”
Rustle, rustle, dash!
The moment the warrior finished speaking, the boys who had been standing in line frantically grabbed clothes and sprinted toward the caves. The location and structure of the caves varied greatly at a glance. The difference between a comfortable cave and a filthy one was significant; cleaning might take time, or a cave might be too disgusting to even attempt cleaning. More importantly, these were their resting places, so everyone scrambled to claim even a slightly better spot.
Caves…
Bu Eunseol, however, didn’t rush. He slowly began to climb the stone mountain. Having lived in a single room at the Ping’an Mortuary on the outskirts of Fǔzhōng, any place where he could simply lay his body down was acceptable.
“This spot looks good.”
“I thought caves would be damp, but this is quite pleasant.”
The wider, cozier caves were already occupied by the fastest participants. The problem arose when commotion broke out over the few remaining decent caves.
“Hey, I’m taking this one, so back off.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I, a girl, took this spot?”
As the arguments grew louder, one boy, unable to watch any longer, pointed to his own cave. “Stop fighting. I’ll just find another place.”
Observing this scene, a strange light flickered again in Bu Eunseol’s eyes.
They don’t know what happened in the second trial!
If they knew about the second trial, if they knew the bloody outcome of that brutal fight, such mild conversation would be impossible. Yet, the participants here were all dressed lavishly, and some even carried an air of elegance or nobility.
Are they all descendants of prestigious families?
Only then did a frightening realization dawn on Bu Eunseol. Come to think of it, most of those who had remained in the second trial were individuals who had learned martial arts alone or belonged to minor sects. In other words, they were expendable.
Grind.
Bu Eunseol grit his teeth.
I will survive.
The faces of those who died in the second trial still lingered in his mind. The Demonic Palace discriminated even when it came to something as impartial as death.
“Still haven’t chosen?”
A low voice sounded from behind him. Turning, he saw the black-robed warrior looking down at him with a stern gaze. “You’ve been dawdling since earlier.”
Bu Eunseol bowed his head slightly, and the warrior waved dismissively. “There’s no time. Decide quickly.”
“Then… I’ll take this one.”
After inspecting the interiors of several caves one by one, Bu Eunseol pointed to one in the most remote, secluded corner. Piles of dirt and refuse lay near it, and the entrance was so narrow one had to stoop low to enter.
“You’re taking that one?”
Boys nearby smirked. There were still many caves available that were more pleasant than that one, though not the best. Yet he insisted on entering such a dirty, cramped hole.
“Must like dirty places.”
“Seeing him in that ritual robe, maybe he’s used to filth.”
Ignoring the snickers around him, Bu Eunseol calmly walked toward the cave.
The black-robed warrior’s eyes suddenly gleamed.
A talented one.
The cave Bu Eunseol had chosen looked dirty and narrow, but it actually possessed many advantages. The entrance was too small to allow for an ambush, and the interior opened into a space large enough for solo training. Furthermore, since no light entered, it would allow for deep sleep.
“If you’ve all changed, come out.”
At the warrior’s command, the candidates emerged from their caves, now dressed in the new clothes, and lined up again in the open space.
“On this Hell Island, ten martial training halls have been established where you can learn the martial arts of the Ten Demonic Sects.” The warrior swept his gaze across the assembly. “You may learn all of them, or you may choose just one. The decision is yours.”
Murmurs spread through the boys. Even if they couldn’t master everything, wasn’t it obviously beneficial to learn the arts of the Ten Demonic Sects?
“Furthermore, your daily schedule is also free.” The warrior unrolled a large parchment on the table. It was a detailed map showing the locations of the ten martial training halls on Hell Island. “If you want to sleep, sleep. If you want to learn martial arts, learn martial arts.”
At this, the gathered participants’ faces brightened. They could learn whichever arts they desired, and their time was their own, with no fixed schedule?
Something’s strange.
Bu Eunseol’s expression, however, turned cold. These were the cruel individuals who had devised a plan to make the participants slaughter each other. It was inconceivable that they would train the Ten Demonic Successors—candidates upon whom the fate of the Demonic Palace arguably rested—in such a lenient manner.
“Well then, I wish you martial fortune.”
With those parting words, the black-robed warrior turned and vanished.
“Let’s go quickly!”
Most of the participants looked at the map and then dashed off in the same direction. It was the location of the martial training hall for the Flower Rain Sword Sect, the strongest faction among the Ten Demonic Sects, where one could learn their absolute sword arts.
“I trained in blade arts, so I’ll head to the Blood-Stained Blade Clan.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn the White Demon Whip of the White Demon Monastery.”
“Palm techniques are my specialty, so I must go to the Annihilating Seals Palace.”
“I heard the poison arts of the Infernal Blood Fortress aren’t harmful to the human body.”
A few boys chose martial training halls aligned with the arts they had already learned. Soon, all the participants who had gathered in front of the stone mountain dispersed, leaving Bu Eunseol standing alone.
What I need to learn right now isn’t supreme martial arts.
Bu Eunseol had never received systematic martial arts training. And on this Hell Island, there was no telling what might happen next. Gazing blankly at the parchment map, Bu Eunseol’s eyes suddenly flashed.
Step, step, step.
He turned and began walking toward the north, a direction no one else had taken.
The place Bu Eunseol arrived at was a small, thatched hut.
This is a martial training hall?
The warrior had definitely said martial training halls were established here. But upon arrival, there was no hall, just a single hut standing in an empty field.
“Excuse me.” Looking around, Bu Eunseol approached the hut. “Is anyone here?”
Slosh.
Suddenly, the ground in front of the hut rippled like a stomach, and a large head popped out from the earth.
“What is it?”
The man had eyes slanted upward like a wolf’s, and his cheeks and sideburns were entirely covered in spiky stubble. With only his head protruding from the ground, he looked exactly like a feral beast.
“I came to learn the martial arts of the Wolf Fang Pavilion.”
At Bu Eunseol’s words, the man frowned and asked, “Did you come wanting to become one of the Ten Demonic Successors?”
“Yes.”
“Then leave.” The man grimaced fiercely. “Learning this Pavilion’s arts is just a waste of time. Don’t bother straining yourself.”
An honest person.
Bu Eunseol already knew. The Wolf Fang Pavilion had fallen so far that it barely clung to its position within the Ten Demonic Sects. The only reason it still held the last seat was due to its glorious past, having produced numerous peerless masters.
But I need the Wolf Fang Pavilion’s martial arts.
While teaching him how to determine the cause of death from corpses, Bu Jan-yang had often told him stories about the various sects and figures of the Murim. Naturally, these included tales of the Ten Demonic Sects.
“I will learn the martial arts of the Wolf Fang Pavilion.”
“You think this is a joke?” Despite Bu Eunseol’s firm reply, the man yawned, looking annoyed. “And don’t misunderstand. The time you have to learn martial arts on Hell Island is not infinite.”
He yawned again, wide, and smacked his lips. “If you understand, go learn martial arts somewhere else. Don’t waste your time.”
“I will learn the martial arts of the Wolf Fang Pavilion,” Bu Eunseol stated seriously. “Please teach me.”
The man stared at Bu Eunseol with puzzlement. “Why? If you wish, you could learn the sword arts of the Flower Rain Sword Sect, said to be the strongest among the Ten Demonic Sects. If swords aren’t your forte, you could learn the Blood-Stained Blade Art, which rivals them. There’s absolutely no need to learn this Pavilion’s arts.”
At the man’s question, Bu Eunseol smiled faintly. “Because surviving comes first.”
“Surviving?”
“The martial arts of the Ten Demonic Sects cannot be mastered in an instant, can they?” Bu Eunseol said, his eyes intense. “I heard that learning the arts of the Wolf Fang Pavilion grants one the most tenacious life force under the heavens.”
The man chuckled. “That’s right. This Pavilion’s arts begin with remodeling the physical body. To use practical combat arts, one must first obtain a body stronger than anyone else’s.”
The man’s expression turned solemn. “But that is all. Possessing a more tenacious life force than others doesn’t mean you can become the greatest master of the Demonic Path. Do you understand what I mean?”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Good that you understand.”
As the man started to lower his head back into the ground, Bu Eunseol quickly prostrated himself. “Please, teach me the martial arts of the Wolf Fang Pavilion!”
Bu Eunseol’s eyes burned like captured suns.
“You crazy bastard…” The man realized Bu Eunseol wasn’t joking; he was genuinely determined to learn the Wolf Fang Pavilion’s arts. “Fine.”
“Thank you!”
As Bu Eunseol bowed again, the man waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t misunderstand. I am only teaching you because it is the Demonic Palace’s order.”
“Understood.”
Slither…
Just then, the ground around the man melted like ice, and his body, which had been buried, slowly emerged.
Thump.
Standing fully revealed, the man was nearly seven cheok tall, with shoulders that looked twice as broad as an ordinary man’s.
“Nine out of ten who learn this Pavilion’s arts die.”
“Understood.”
Seeing no flicker of hesitation in Bu Eunseol’s eyes, the man revealed his canines in a slight smirk. “Your name.”
“It is Bu Eunseol.”
“No. Your name is Wolf Fang Pavilion Trainee Number One. Understood?” The man smacked his lips. “Though I doubt there will ever be a Number Two.”
“Understood.”
As Bu Eunseol nodded, the man pointed a thumb at his own face. “I am the Secret Transmission Hall Master of the Wolf Fang Pavilion, Sa Wu. From now on, you will call me Elder Sa.”