Chapter 172 : Message
Message
"Are you saying the Zhao clan of Changshan hosted a celebratory banquet?"
Jeong-un asked as he recalled Zhao Gang and the clan head Zhao Pyeong, whom he'd met a short while ago.
Indeed, they hadn't seemed like such hypocritical people on the surface.
Baek Il-gang answered.
"Well, now that time has passed, I can understand their reasoning. This is clearly Zhao clan of Changshan's territory, and martial artists from other regions came here chasing unorthodox villains and caused quite a stir, so they couldn't just stand by. They had to make a choice."
"A choice?"
"At the time, the orthodox alliance that was pursuing that bastard included elites from many powerful sects, including the Hebei Peng Clan. No matter how close Zhao clan of Changshan was to the Baek House, it would have been difficult to blame all those people for their crimes. So rather than rebuking them, they decided to host a banquet and strengthen their relationships."
Jeong-un's face hardened until it was completely rigid.
Unable to blame them for the crime, so they held a banquet instead?
It was so absurd he was at a loss for words.
Seeing Jeong-un's expression, Baek Il-gang gave a small laugh.
"That's often how groups work. Especially among prestigious noble clans like the Zhao Clan, where so many members are rational and capable. People who might speak of conscience as individuals hide behind their group's name and become extremely selfish."
"So, are you saying no one took responsibility for what happened to Young Hero Baek's sister?"
Baek Il-gang looked at Jeong-un and spoke, smiling awkwardly as if such a question was unfamiliar.
"Well... After the banquet ended, a few letters did arrive at Baek House. The gist was that they regretted what happened and wanted to offer compensation. The renowned leaders of the orthodox faction tried to put a rather generous price on my sister's life."
"That's..."
"It was almost amusing. Instead of getting angry, my father used it as an opportunity to forge close ties with the famous houses of the martial world. Everything improved for the clan, except for the loss of my sister. I left the house soon after. I just couldn't stand the disgust."
"......."
"Well, that's all. Didn't I tell you? It wouldn't be a very interesting story."
Baek Il-gang spoke softly with a faint smile. But Jeong-un could only gaze at him steadily.
Even though he could control true ki as delicately as his own body, a faint ki wave was emerging from his body, wavering imperceptibly.
Perhaps Baek Il-gang noticed Jeong-un's gaze; the true ki emanating from him subsided instantly.
Then, with an embarrassed face, he continued.
"I don't really feel much about it now. Only at times, their hypocrisy gets so irritating I can hardly stand it."
Jeong-un recalled when he first met him.
Contrary to his claim of having little emotion left, he remembered that Baek Il-gang had gone through a special test just to get in, which is why Jeong-un had stayed wary.
What exactly had driven him to take the entrance exam at the Heavenly Martial Hall, and how did he feel now?
Jeong-un could not even guess.
"In any case, let's go. They'll be waiting outside."
Baek Il-gang opened the door first and exited the room.
The sound of his footsteps heading toward the pavilion's main gate grew distant.
As Jeong-un left after him, he murmured to himself.
'This is a hard world to live in. Especially for those with nothing.'
The martial world is often simply divided into orthodox and unorthodox factions, but the detailed circumstances are incredibly diverse.
It was odd, even awkward, to lump everyone under a single label.
Truthfully, except for those clearly evil unorthodox villains who harm people and oppress the commoners, most others were called orthodox by default.
'But it's not just the unorthodox who oppress the people.'
Ironically, among the people Jeong-un had encountered, government officials persecuted the common folk as much as unorthodox villains did—if not more.
Not only local area magistrates but even high-ranking officials like district heads were like that.
Of course, he didn't think all officials were bad, but his own experience had shown him otherwise.
So he thought, at least subconsciously, that the orthodox faction was the lesser evil.
They cared too much about reputation and public opinion, but at least they didn't commit atrocities.
Especially among the Old Sects, there truly seemed to be those who could be called virtuous.
'But then...'
Sacrificing a child's life just to kill an unorthodox villain?
Even fighting over who gets to claim the head?
'... And then holding a celebratory banquet.'
Truly, for the powerless, this was a terribly harsh world. No wonder Baek Il-gang had become so twisted.
Lost in thought, Jeong-un came outside and saw Zhao Gang waiting for him.
He was standing upright, just as before Jeong-un and Baek Il-gang had entered the pavilion, not having gone anywhere.
Seeing Jeong-un, Zhao Gang approached and asked,
"Shall we go right away? If you need more time..."
"Let's go now."
Jeong-un replied briefly.
Baek Il-gang was standing a few steps away, and it seemed from his demeanor that even while Jeong-un had come out a bit later, the two hadn't exchanged a single word.
'.......'
As Jeong-un followed, he glanced sideways at Zhao Gang.
Could Zhao Gang have had anything to do with what happened to Baek Il-gang's sister?
Unlikely—he would have been a mere child at the time as well.
'... Let's focus on the task at hand.'
Jeong-un murmured inwardly.
Even after hearing Baek Il-gang's story, he could not, in all fairness, hold Zhao clan of Changshan accountable, as he had no involvement in the matter.
Moreover, just the fact that they'd held a banquet didn't by itself necessarily constitute wrongdoing.
It had become a great wound for Baek Il-gang, but it was difficult to declare it an unambiguous crime.
'Right now, I need to solve what's right in front of me.'
The truth was, Jeong-un's situation was hardly a relaxed one.
He had reached the level of a peerless expert, but there were still plenty of powerful figures in this land.
Among them, outlaws of the state were out for his life.
And today, he was on his way to see one such man.
Even if it was a trap left behind by the enemy, Jeong-un didn't mind—any clue was worth chasing.
Soon they arrived before a small warehouse where the man was detained.
It seemed to be a storage space for lumber used in repairing buildings.
Two martial guards stood guarding the entrance; bearing spears, they looked more like soldiers than martial artists.
It seemed that not just bloodline members, but even house guards were taught spear technique here.
"Let's go in."
With that, they opened the warehouse door and entered.
Jeong-un faced the man.
He looked gaunt, as if starving for days, with pallid skin; through his purplish lips, a dark red fluid—blood, perhaps—trickled.
Obviously, he was not in a normal state. He looked precisely like a member of the Demonic Cult.
"......?"
But something was odd.
Jeong-un, Baek Il-gang, Zhao Gang, and one of the guards had entered the narrow warehouse—making four people in total.
The man, tied to a pillar in the middle, immediately began glaring at Jeong-un, as if he had been waiting for him, as though he already recognized him.
"Do you know who that is?"
Baek Il-gang asked under his breath, glancing sideways at Jeong-un, having clearly noticed something strange.
"No, I've never seen him before,"
Jeong-un replied, approaching him.
"You..."
As the man stared unblinkingly at Jeong-un and opened his mouth to speak—
"Shut your mouth."
Smack!
Jeong-un instantly reached out and seized the man's neck.
The others, watching in the back, flinched in surprise at the sudden action—they hadn't expected Jeong-un to act so swiftly.
"Ghk!"
The man's eyes bulged as if he would vomit blood, his breath cut off by the grip.
Soon, his face was swelling red.
With a blank face, Jeong-un spoke.
"Don't exaggerate. Your neck isn't even broken yet."
"K-Kerk..."
Then, with his fingertips, Jeong-un let true ki flow into the man's body, ruthlessly probing every corner.
As if unwilling to allow the smallest anomaly.
"Krrrk!"
The man began convulsing in agony—not from the hand choking his neck, but from the true ki savagely digging through his body.
'Definitely a Demonic Cultist.'
From the moment he entered, Jeong-un had felt the chilling, foul energy unique to their kind—the repulsive stench of true ki gone to rot, never to be found in those who cultivated orthodox internal energy.
Even so, Jeong-un probed him directly with true ki; he had to be sure the man really was a Demonic Cultist.
And to eliminate any potential dangers.
During the previous Blood Cult annihilation mission, Demonic Cultists had chosen suicide at the sight of Jeong-un.
When their corpses were later examined, he couldn't determine by what method they had died.
So this time, he decided to act first, before seeing a repeat of that scenario.
'No unusual sign...'
After a thorough examination, Jeong-un released his grip, and the man collapsed to the floor, his tied hands thumping down.
Jeong-un looked down on him and spoke slowly.
"You let yourself get caught. State your purpose."
"...!"
The man's eyes went wide at Jeong-un's words—his pupils seemed ready to pop out, as if Jeong-un had hit the mark exactly.
The others, watching in silence, were equally shocked.
Let himself be caught?
At first glance, that might sound like an insult to Zhao clan of Changshan for having captured him, but Jeong-un's expression remained calm and unconcerned.
'It can't be a coincidence.'
Jeong-un murmured to himself.
The man had said he would see Jeong-un soon—a deeply meaningful statement.
And right after Jeong-un returned to the Heavenly Martial Hall, this mission was assigned to him right away—one that only someone like him could handle.
In Jeong-un's view, it would not be an exaggeration to say the man had deliberately lured him here.
At that moment—
"So, you've come."
A grating, metallic voice slipped from the man's lips.
He had barely opened his mouth, yet the sound slithered out. It was a bizarre sight.
Saaak!
Jeong-un instantly reached out again and grasped the man's neck, lifting him roughly and sending true ki deep into his body.
"There's no need to search for me. At the time I desire, and when your impatience reaches its peak, we will meet again."
Even as Jeong-un did so, the man continued to speak.
His eyes had rolled up—only the whites showed—clearly overtaken by some sinister sorcery, his mind no longer his own.
'I must find it.'
Jeong-un meticulously examined the man's meridians and dantian.
He had to—there was a good chance the clue to it all lay there.
"I intend to show you the prelude to what I've prepared. This time, I shall complete my little game through your reaction."
Now, the man's meridians, which had been almost unresponsive just before, flared up with what seemed like fire.
He no longer resembled a corpse on the verge of death.
And then—
'Got it.'
The heart.
Near the man's heart, Jeong-un sensed a strange source of power drawing in innate true ki.
Visibly, the man's skin was drying up rapidly; it was unbelievable.
Just as Jeong-un's true ki explored that mysterious energy—
"—You may look forward to it."
Pffft.
The man's body suddenly went limp.
"......"
Jeong-un gazed at him steadily for a moment, then let go.
The man's bound wrists twisted backward, and he collapsed to the floor—the will to support his body totally gone.
He was dead.
"... Did you kill him?"
"I didn't kill him."
Jeong-un replied, looking down on the corpse.
Damn it.
He even muttered a rare curse under his breath before continuing, slowly.
"It seems the demonic cult leader cast a chilling spell over his body. When I checked earlier, I couldn't sense anything—but..."
"A spell?"
"It's similar to the method I saw in the Blood Cult battlefield. I didn't expect the message to come out like this, though. It seems the spell was set to trigger when my true ki touched him."
"What does that mean...?"
They all stared at Jeong-un, their faces vacant with shock.
In this world, even martial arts using internal energy were regarded as miracles.
After all, running faster than speech or cleaving giant boulders and rivers seemed impossible to the common folk.
But to possess another's mouth and even control the timing of one's death—this was a mystery even to martial artists.
"... Let's go. We need to report to the clan head."
Zhao Gang said quietly, still looking dazed by the staggering scene.