Chapter 363
“Why? Because the Great Desert is far?”
Seol Unhwi nodded.
“We had to kill them, but we could not afford to go all the way to the Great Desert ourselves. Your promise happened to come up at just the right time.”
“A promise... not a debt?”
“I put it politely.”
Eun Unsaeng burst out laughing.
“You’re the same as ever. No, I think you’ve deepened.”
“Time has passed, after all.”
“Yes, time has passed. But it’s only been nearly a year. In just that time—”
Eun Unsaeng studied Seol Unhwi closely.
“You’ve raised your level considerably.”
“A little.”
“A little? Is this a little?”
Eun Unsaeng let out a hollow laugh.
“Truly, in my life I have never envied anyone, but I am insanely jealous of Lord Seol.”
“You flatter me, senior.”
“You even kept arranging marriages and ignored them—do you not intend to marry?”
Seol Unhwi snorted a laugh.
“There are mountains of tasks to handle; marriage is not among them.”
“Do you intend to marry someday?”
“Not impossible.”
Eun Unsaeng crossed his arms and pondered; Seol Unhwi said, “Whether debt or promise, even without such things I hold only goodwill toward the Slaughter-Soul Gate. How about you, senior?”
“Need I say more? Of course I hold only goodwill.”
Seol Unhwi extended his hand.
“Then, I look forward to your continued favor, Senior Eun.”
Eun Unsaeng uncrossed his arms and took the offered hand.
“Very well. And if things get hard, contact me anytime. If you must come to the Great Desert, tell me.”
“I will remember.”
“Then I will take my leave.”
As Eun Unsaeng turned to go, Seol Unhwi asked, “Are you heading to the Great Desert?”
“Would I go anywhere else?”
Where Eun Unsaeng had meant to step stood a man.
A man who had once accompanied Eun Unsaeng to Seolgung.
Myorim, deputy of the Slaughter-Soul Gate.
Seol Unhwi lightly saluted him and sent a telepathic message.
“I cannot read telepathic messages, but I can certainly sense when they are exchanged.”
Seol Unhwi and Myorim fell silent.
“I have some idea of what this is about. Do as you see fit and finish it well.”
At that Myorim replied by telepathic message.
Thus Eun Unsaeng and Myorim departed.
Chief Seong, looking tired, said one thing.
“...That is all, right?”
“It should be.”
“Are you sure?”
Seol Unhwi snorted a laugh.
“Senior Eun left a gift.”
From where the two had stood, two horses were now walking toward them.
“...If you tangle with figures from the assassin side, it will only make your life harder.”
Though the Slaughter-Soul Gate presented itself as a sword school, its root was assassination.
The Great Desert’s martial artists fell into exactly two categories.
Warriors and assassins.
What ended their internecine strife and unified them was Eun Unsaeng. Not only did he possess simple assassination techniques, his swordsmanship was so outstanding that his sobriquet included the word “Sword Lord,” and that was saying something.
In the world of killers he was legendary; in the Great Desert he was more than legend.
Some called him by the ancient word “khan,” though Eun Unsaeng did not appreciate that name.
“Chief Seong.”
“Yes, young master.”
“Could you investigate what is happening in the Great Desert?”
“Do you wish to become involved?”
Seol Unhwi smiled faintly.
“It cannot be helped. That is the martial world.”
Chief Seong scratched his head.
“Very well. I will look into it.”
***
At the Plum Pavilion of the Heavenly Alliance two men sat facing each other.
Seol Unhwi and Hwa Munyeom.
Seol Unhwi, watching Hwa Munyeom quietly brew tea, said briefly, “Today, Alliance Lord.”
“...Urgent, is it?”
“My tasks are done.”
Hwa Munyeom set a teacup before Seol Unhwi.
“You have given gifts, and I have so many debts to you I see no way to repay them.”
Seol Unhwi shook his head.
“The Heavenly Alliance has taken root.”
“It has.”
“If you maintain this and push it further, that will be how I repay you.”
“...”
“Dugohyeon remains, we have joined hands with the Slaughter-Soul Gate, and the Golden Sword Gate will join as well.”
“Likely so.”
“You must control it. From the top.”
Hwa Munyeom drank his tea and nodded.
“I shall. And—”
Hwa Munyeom took a small box from his bosom and set it before Seol Unhwi.
“The gift is too large.”
They had gained much from the Clear-Void Treasury. Beyond the intangible martial transmissions from Clear-Void Adept, the number of spirit pills exceeded ten.
Among them was the Qingxin Pill obtained from the final gate.
Its effect could be described in one word.
Peace of mind.
The Hyeonyeong Pill Chief Seong had taken removed mental afflictions. The Qingxin Pill added to that by tempering the blood channels and raising the body’s overall constitution.
Not a mere incremental boost but a marked rise.
To supply years or decades of training resources and feverish practice with a single spirit pill—its value could not be reckoned.
Hwa Munyeom knew this, and that was why he had not taken it to date.
“Take it without worry.”
“...Too much is as bad as too little. I have already received too much from you; if I accept this I will feel diminished.”
Hwa Munyeom’s ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) sincerity matched Seol Unhwi’s earlier earnestness.
He pushed the box toward Seol Unhwi.
“Take it. I feel this is not something fit for me to keep.”
Martial artists pursue spirit pills with fire in their eyes.
In that pursuit many kill without hesitation.
But where such people exist, there must be those who value loyalty over greed.
Those who know shame and practice restraint.
Hwa Munyeom was such a man.
Seol Unhwi, knowing him well, nodded slightly and took the box.
“Very well. If it is the Alliance Lord’s will, I accept.”
Seol Unhwi placed the Qingxin Pill in the dusk pouch and rose slowly.
Hwa Munyeom said, “Ask whenever you need. Whatever you intend to do, we will always be behind you.”
Seol Unhwi smiled faintly.
“I understand.”
He looked around.
It was very tranquil.
He had been with the Heavenly Alliance for just under half a year.
Short, yet resonant.
“Farewell, Lord Hwa.”
Hwa Munyeom nodded. The two exchanged salutes.
Seol Unhwi passed through the garden to the square.
The moment he opened the gate his steps halted.
The square was full.
Hundreds of martial artists stood in formation—the Heavenly Alliance’s warriors. None spoke or moved.
At the front center stood Seohyo.
Beside him were the sword lieutenant Yamukcheon and the assassin lieutenant Saseollan, and near them stood Dugohyeon.
Behind them were the Mukse Society’s masters.
One figure stood out: Baek Muda, Iron-Wall Martial Fist.
A master of Cheonin-Unification, his fist art was as fast as the wind, as changeable as a ghost, and his defense impenetrable as an iron wall.
Many other faces filled the square.
Members of the Heavenly-Spirit Sword Corps, martial artists who had joined the Heavenly Alliance, and ordinary folk working for the Alliance.
All silently watched Seol Unhwi.
It was quiet.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Seol Unhwi took his first step.
At that moment the square tensed. A faint sound of someone swallowing could be heard.
Second step.
He walked slowly but without falter.
Rows of warriors stood along the path; hundreds of pairs of eyes followed him.
Third step.
Seohyo’s expression became clearer; his eyes held complex emotion.
Fourth step.
Yamukcheon bowed subtly. Saseollan mirrored the motion.
Fifth step.
Dugohyeon met his gaze and quietly inclined his head.
Sixth step.
Baek Mu gave a short bow—a sign of respect.
Seventh step.
All members of the Heavenly-Spirit Sword Corps inclined their heads.
Seol Unhwi continued.
Only his footsteps rang through the square.
Regular, unwavering steps.
Each step resonated in the chests of the warriors.
He neared the main gate.
Chief Seong waited there.
Seol Unhwi stopped before the main gate.
He turned.
He faced all of the Heavenly Alliance.
A silence hung.
Then Seohyo saluted.
At that instant, like a spreading wave, every martial artist simultaneously saluted.
The sound of hundreds moving filled the air.
“It was an honor to serve you!”
The entire square raised one voice.
Seol Unhwi returned the salute.
Deeply.
Formally.
And for a long moment.
He released the salute.
Turned his back.
Exited the main gate.
He did not look back.
Chief Seong followed behind.
The warriors in the square remained in salute.
Until Seol Unhwi’s figure had completely vanished.