A deep shadow lingered in the eyes of the Head of the Guard Pavilion, a woman who was at once the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch’s older sister, Yeon So-hyeon’s paternal aunt, and the master to the Second Young Lady, Yeon Seo-rin. She resided here, in the Luoyang Sword Clan’s special-grade closed-door training hall.

The tremors of unrest shaking the Luoyang Sword Clan, caused by the triumphant return of the Grand Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon, had managed to breach even the profound isolation of this sanctuary.

“…Is there any word from the clansmen?”

Her subordinates, the ranking managers of the Guard Pavilion, shook their heads.

“Of the clansmen our Guard Pavilion agents were assigned to protect… many of them, just last night, were…”

The manager trailed off, struggling to find the appropriate words. The Head of the Guard Pavilion finished the thought for him, her voice flat.

“Dragged away?”

At her stark assessment, the managers broke out in a cold sweat.

“We tried everything we could to block the forced arrest, to ensure the safety of our protection targets, but…!”

“They shoved an order from the Supreme Operations Council in our faces! There was nothing we could do…!”

The primary duty of the Guard Pavilion was to protect the key blood relatives of the Yeon clan. Their failure was absolute, which was precisely why they were sweating so profusely.

“I am not trying to reprimand you.” She let out a faint sigh. “Those men… they are rotten to the core. Far too rotten.”

Even if it was true that fish could not live in water that was too pristine, those relatives had crossed the line long ago. They were the kind of parasites who had secretly caused trouble even when her younger brother, the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch, was perfectly healthy. Now, they had finally crossed a line from which there was no return.

“There is no value in helping bastards like that, even if they share the Yeon name.”

Besides, men of their ilk were of no particular use to her own personal ambition: making Yeon Seo-rin the Patriarch.

I assume the key members of my own faction are unharmed…?

The Guard Pavilion managers nodded quickly.

“Yes, yes. That is correct, Pavilion Head.”

“They are currently waiting in their residences, carefully monitoring the situation in the main clan.”

Carefully monitoring? She scoffed internally. More like testing the waters. She sighed again and waved a dismissive hand. “Then that’s fine. You’re dismissed.”

The managers, suffocating under the pressure of the Pavilion Head, a master who had long surpassed the wall, quickly bowed and stepped back.

Left alone in the cavernous, empty room, the Head of the Guard Pavilion let out another heavy sigh. Long ago, her younger brother, the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch, had shattered her dream of becoming the Patriarch. Now, his eldest son had reappeared, presenting a new and unexpected obstacle to her revised ambition of placing Yeon Seo-rin in that same position. …No. Not this time. Absolutely not. As she stewed in her own resolve, her sharp senses detected a presence. Someone was leaving the closed-door training hall.

…!

The moment she identified the person, a sharp cry burst from her lips.

“Yeon Seo-rin!”

Seo-rin, usually flinching at her master’s sharp tone, simply looked back at her with unsettlingly calm eyes. “…Master.”

“Neglecting your training again! Where do you think you are going?!”

Rumble.

A low rumble echoed as the Pavilion Head’s aura flared, causing the cliffs flanking the training hall to tremble and shower small pebbles onto the ground. On any other day, this display of power would have been the end of it. Yeon Seo-rin would have given up and gone back inside, and the Pavilion Head would have let the matter drop after a grueling training session.

“Master.”

But.

Today, Yeon Seo-rin was different.

“From now on, I will walk my own path freely.”

“…Freely?” A muscle in the Pavilion Head’s eye twitched. “Have you forgotten your ‘responsibility’? Do I need to remind you of it again?” Even if the Pavilion Head didn’t explicitly say it, Yeon Seo-rin couldn’t forget. The story of her responsibility had been drilled into her—brainwashed into her—hundreds, even thousands of times.

“The day Father collapsed. He was already poisoned, but he was struck by a hidden attack while trying to shield me.”

This was the story of that day—the foundational event that explained why the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch had yet to awaken.

“Yes, you remember it well.” The Pavilion Head’s voice softened, taking on a soothing, almost gentle quality as she began her familiar manipulation. “And you also remember the last words your father spoke as he held you in his arms, don’t you?”

“You mean the words that instructed me to safeguard the family and lead the clan, to assume the role of my elder sister, who would be leaving the family due to her engagement to the Hwangbo Clan?”

“Yes, those very words.” The Pavilion Head raised her hand, pointing to the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch’s sword that hung at Yeon Seo-rin’s waist. “Were those not the words your father spoke as he passed that sword to you?” And that, precisely, was the restraint; the leash, that had bound Yeon Seo-rin for all this time. The Pavilion Head continued her coaxing, just as she had always done.

“A warrior of your father’s caliber… if he hadn’t been trying to protect you, he surely could have saved himself.”

She observed as Yeon Seo-rin bit her lip, a familiar pang of guilt flashing across her disciple’s face. The Pavilion Head concealed a chilling smile. “Yesterday, today, the main clan is in utter chaos. Countless people are bleeding, and countless lives are being lost in vain.”

She pressed the point, painting a vivid picture of the anarchy gripping the Luoyang Sword Clan. “What do you think would have happened if your father hadn’t fallen that day?”

If he hadn’t… then the Luoyang Sword Clan right now… everything would be different.

“I, too, wish to avoid reminding you of this heavy responsibility in such a way. But you must become the lord of this Luoyang Sword Clan—”

“Master.”

Yeon Seo-rin cut her off.

“No… Aunt.”

As she met the gaze of Yeon Seo-rin, who had called her “Aunt” instead of “Master,” the Pavilion Head was the one who flinched. For some reason, this was all wrong. This reaction was completely different from usual.

“Did you hate my father that much?”

“…What are you talking about?! You—!”

As the Pavilion Head attempted to mask her sudden fluster with a burst of anger, Yeon Seo-rin pressed on, leaving her no chance to recover. “Back then, when I was just a child who couldn’t even recall the situation clearly… why did you implant all those lies into me?” Yeon Seo-rin’s gaze, fixed on the master whose expression was finally crumbling, was almost filled with sadness.

“Lies? What are you—?!”

“These documents are copies. So-hyeon secretly sent them to me at dawn.”

The Pavilion Head’s face tightened as Yeon Seo-rin pulled a sheaf of documents from her robes. “That brat… what has he—?”

“See for yourself.”

The Pavilion Head’s hand snapped out, catching the documents Yeon Seo-rin tossed with Void-Grasping Art. As she scanned the titles, her gaze began to shake uncontrollably.

They were none other than the documents Yeon So-hyeon had retrieved from the Director’s private safe last night.

“Th-this is…?!”

Yeon Seo-rin’s voice was bitter. “As you can see, they are the records from the incident. The ones the Director, who vanished last night, had been keeping in secret.”

The Head of the Guard Pavilion wanted to scream.

“These files reveal that the entire situation at the time was utterly unclear. No one could recall events with clarity, and no one comprehended what was happening.”

The documents even contained bizarre and delirious statements from the agents on duty, claiming to have witnessed “a beast with six feet” or “a monstrous shape with fifty-foot wings crossing the sky.”

“It’s true that I was found nearby, holding my father’s sword. However, nowhere in these reports does it mention that he was struck while shielding me. And the most crucial part…” Yeon Seo-rin’s voice dropped, each word resonating like a heavy hammer blow. “You weren’t even there, Auntie.”

The intricate narrative that had long brainwashed Yeon Seo-rin, the very foundation of her guilt and purpose, crumbled into nothingness.

“S-Seo-rin. That’s—”

The Pavilion Head tried to form an excuse, to find a new angle, but…

No, it’s not…!

The leash she had so carefully fastened was broken.

“There’s so much I want to ask you…”

Yeon Seo-rin’s smile was deeply sad.

“But I know you’ll never tell me the truth yourself.”

She knelt on the bare earth and offered a formal bow. It was the final act of respect for the woman who had been her master. “Thank you for raising me and teaching me all this time.” She then finally rose to her feet and said, “I will now… descend the mountain.”

The Pavilion Head reached out a trembling hand toward her departing disciple, but Yeon Seo-rin simply fluttered away, light and free, as if she had finally reclaimed her wings.

“Seo-rin…!”

In this moment, her vast internal energy, which made Void-Grasping Art possible, and her Transcendence Realm, which could make cliffs tremble, were all utterly useless.

***

The first place the Grand Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon, headed upon his return to the Luoyang Sword Clan’s main clan was not, as everyone had expected, his own residence, the Wongakjeong. It was not the Supreme Operations Council, nor was it the Council of Elders. Instead, he went to the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch’s residence, tucked away behind the main building of the inner court.

The Medicine King.

The man who had once been the master of Yeon So-hyeon’s mother, the Medicine Fairy Yak So-yu, trembled with a mix of fear and anticipation. Even Yeon So-hyeon, who usually had a knack for lightening the mood with jokes, remained silent and solemn, simply observing the unfolding scene with a sense of gravity.

Drip.

A single drop of blood fell onto a small, darkish piece of flesh that was already half-rotted. Instantly, black smoke billowed up from the flesh, causing it to ripple and pulse as if it were somehow horribly, unnaturally alive.

The Medicine King, who had recoiled from the sight, turned to Yeon So-hyeon. “…Whose flesh did you claim this belonged to?”

“Geum-jil. It belongs to someone from the Demonic Cult.”

The blood that had stained that Geum-jil flesh belonged to none other than Yeon So-hyeon’s father—the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch.

“In that case…”

Yeon So-hyeon nodded, his expression grim. “Just as I had suspected. Father’s poisoning and his unconscious state are symptoms directly linked to the Demonic Cult.”

That suspicion had evolved into near certainty after he had discovered the chaotic records hidden by the Director. They presented contradictory testimonies, creating a situation of pure, unadulterated chaos. It was all too reminiscent of the reality distortion caused by demonic energy—a phenomenon he had witnessed far too often.

“So, that was it. That was all there was to it.”

This wasn’t a typical illness or a typical poison. From the very beginning, it had never been within the realm of a physician, nor even the domain of the Medicine King as a practitioner of the Way of the Immortal.

The Medicine King lamented, his voice cracking with the weight of years of frustration. “That’s why… that’s why the ten thousand medicinal herbs and ten thousand treatments we tried were all utterly useless…!”

The reason why, for all this agonizing time, the Medicine King and Yeon So-hyeon—arguably the two greatest physicians in the Central Plains—could not cure the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch was finally, terrifyingly clear.

“How many more samples are left?”

At the Medicine King’s excited, almost desperate question, Yeon So-hyeon nodded.

“Enough.”

Then, a cold smile touched his lips as he added, “Besides, the Demonic Cult bastards are only going to get more aggressive from here on out. It won’t be difficult to acquire a wide variety of new samples.”

Regardless of how this all began, the current Demonic Cult was a cancer. They were evildoers, and their actions were wicked. Yeon So-hyeon had no intention of letting them run rampant.

The Medicine King, who regarded Yeon So-hyeon as a grandson, momentarily gazed at him with concern before simply shaking his head.

“…Right.”

From what he had seen, Yeon So-hyeon was not someone who needed his worry. There was no need to draw things out with useless nagging.

“We have a lead now.”

The Medicine King’s gaze sharpened, his focus returning to that of a physician.

“Leave the research to me. I will find a cure, no matter what.”

Who in the entire Central Plains could Yeon So-hyeon trust more than the Medicine King?

Yeon So-hyeon met the old man’s gaze directly and nodded.

“I’m counting on you.”

At Yeon So-hyeon’s unexpectedly sincere and vulnerable demeanor, the Medicine King felt a sudden wave of awkwardness. “Ahem,” he said, looking away and clearing his throat as he quickly stood up.

“Well then. I’ll get out of your way.”

“One more thing.”

The Medicine King’s hand froze on the doorknob at the sound of Yeon So-hyeon’s voice from behind him.

“This is just speculation, but I don’t think Father was the first to be hit with this method back then.”

“…Don’t tell me.”

The Medicine King didn’t need any more clues. He grasped the horrifying implication immediately.

“Are you saying that the late Emperor, His Majesty, was also attacked with the same method before he passed away?”

“As I mentioned earlier, it’s merely speculation. We’ll need to delve deeper into the matter. But…” Yeon So-hyeon continued, his back still turned to the door, his voice a low, monotonous tone. “If someone were to embark on the endeavor of dismantling the entire Central Plains, and if they sought to achieve this in the most efficient manner possible…”

“…Targeting the Emperor and the Patriarch of the Sword Clan would be it.”

The conversation ended there.

The Medicine King closed the door and left, leaving only Yeon So-hyeon and the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch in the suffocating silence of the room.

“…Father.”

Yeon So-hyeon reached out, his hand closing over his father’s.

The Great Supreme Retired Patriarch’s body, now little more than skin and bones, did not even react to the demonic energy of the Scripture that Commands the Dark and Quakes the Heavens. While demonic energy may have been the weapon that stole his consciousness back then, his current comatose state was merely the devastating after-effect of that distorted reality.

“I will find a cure, Father. Whatever it takes to get you back on your feet.”

His father’s hand was skeletal. The large, strong, warm hand he remembered from his childhood memories was gone, leaving only the faint, hard traces of calluses earned from a lifetime of holding a sword.

“And when you wake up…”

A hot tear, then another, fell upon that hand where the bones showed so clearly.

“I will make sure you can be proud of me.”

***

Evil is unspectacular, and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our table.

Evil is mundane. It sleeps with us, and it eats with us. It is always humans who are evil.

—Wystan Hugh Auden [1907.2.21–1973.9.29]