Chapter 170 : Lee Tae’s Joining
Chapter 170: Lee Tae’s Joining
The Grand Hall of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold.
The one seated on the Grand Preceptor’s Chair atop the high platform was clearly the Eightfold Confusion Monk who had spoken with Jegal Giyeon.
He looked down at Guisa-chu, who was kneeling there, battered and covered in wounds.
“What shall you do? Will you try to live, or will you head straight to the Pure Land—ah! Though I suppose you cannot go to the Pure Land.”
Despite the unmistakable mockery in those words, Guisa-chu could not even flare up in anger.
Not only his fighting spirit, but even the will to resist had been broken.
Eight hundred of the guard force had been annihilated in half a Gak, and his own final ultimate technique had been blocked by a mere casual gesture.
Yet throughout everything that had happened, there had not been the slightest trace of the Eightfold Confusion Monk using martial arts.
He had simply moved his hands and feet lightly.
To him, neither the eight hundred guards nor even Guisa-chu himself had been worth the use of martial arts.
After witnessing such overwhelming divine might, Guisa-chu had been completely crushed.
Because of that, he could not utter a single sound and merely stared blankly. The Eightfold Confusion Monk asked him,
“They say that even rolling around in a dung field, life in this world is still better. So then—will you continue living?”
Seeing the faint glimmer of hope flicker in Guisa-chu’s eyes at the question, the Eightfold Confusion Monk smiled.
“You seem to have the will to live, so I shall say this. This Grand Preceptor’s Chair is higher than I expected. Climbing up and down from here is rather inconvenient……”
The Eightfold Confusion Monk’s words stopped there.
Guisa-chu, having understood the meaning, had already crawled forward and prostrated himself before the Grand Preceptor’s Chair.
His surrender had come far too easily.
“Well, that is how people of the Unorthodox Factions usually are,” the Eightfold Confusion Monk thought.
Without another word, he rose, stepped onto Guisa-chu’s back, and descended from the Grand Preceptor’s Chair.
As he did, his gaze fell upon hundreds of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold’s masters lined up in formation, tears of resentment streaming down their faces.
The Eightfold Confusion Monk spoke to them.
“Are you resentful? You have gained a stronger master to serve—should that not be something to celebrate?”
“A master? Are you saying you intend to become one of the Four Calamity Emperors?”
At the question from one of the elders of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold, the Eightfold Confusion Monk answered as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“That must be why you are all still alive. Otherwise, would I have had any reason to spare you?”
At that answer, the elders’ eyes hardened. Another elder spoke.
“And what do you intend to do as the master of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold?”
“First, we must unify the Unorthodox Factions. Then we will crush the Bright Cult and place it beneath our feet, deciding who truly stands as the supreme ruler of the Unorthodox Factions.”
At the Eightfold Confusion Monk’s words, admiration burst out from all directions, the present situation forgotten.
There were even quite a few who smiled faintly, as if merely imagining it was already pleasing enough.
Watching them, the Eightfold Confusion Monk continued,
“After that, we shall ride the momentum and crush the Orthodox Faction beneath our feet as well.”
“A world ruled by the Unorthodox Factions…….”
At the words that slipped from someone’s mouth, the Eightfold Confusion Monk smiled faintly.
“A world ruled by the Unorthodox Factions. No… merely a world where we can do whatever we wish, according to our hearts. That woman will be my woman, that treasure will be my treasure. Everything will belong to me—and to us.”
Perhaps imagining such words, laughter leaked out from here and there.
Such a world was something none of them had ever even dreamed of.
Among the three powers—the Orthodox Faction, the Demonic Path, and the Unorthodox Factions—the weakest had always been the Unorthodox Factions.
So much so that some people did not hesitate to call them the leftovers of the Demonic Path.
The belief had spread across the world that the Unorthodox Factions were merely a gathering place for trash that could not even enter the Demonic Path.
Perhaps that was why.
They did not even need to overthrow the Orthodox Faction and seize the world.
There were not a few people of the Unorthodox Factions who thought it would already be enough if they could simply force the Bright Cult—who always looked down on them like dirt beneath their toes—to kneel.
After all, it was the Bright Cult that had created the ridiculous distinction called the Demonic Path, claiming they were different from the Unorthodox Factions.
Even a thousand years ago, the Bright Cult had once been part of the Unorthodox Factions, and in fact their Cult Leader had even concurrently held the title of one of the Four Calamity Emperors.
In other words, the Unorthodox Factions had been the original root.
But the Bright Cult had invented the category of the Demonic Path, turning the Unorthodox Factions into the trash of the Jianghu.
They had thrown all their own countless despicable deeds into the river of forgetfulness beyond memory, choosing only to see what they wanted to see.
That was the nature of the Unorthodox Factions.
And because they were such people, their hearts moved at the Eightfold Confusion Monk’s words.
“The Bright Cult is, after all, a sect called the Demonic Cult. Do you truly think this is possible?”
“I believe I have already shown you the answer.”
He was referring to the divine skill he had demonstrated when defeating the eight hundred guards and Guisa-chu.
At those words, the people of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold looked at one another.
“If it was truly that trembling movement we witnessed… could he defeat even the Killing Ye Jin Tianhuang beyond the Bright Cult’s Cult Leader?”
They asked their companions beside them.
The answer was the same for all of them.
“Perhaps.”
Reading that thought in each other’s eyes, the masters of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold prostrated themselves all at once.
“We greet the new Four Calamity Emperor!”
Though people of the Unorthodox Factions lacked principles and valued their own interests above all else, there was one thing in which they shared the same heart.
Their desire for revenge against the Bright Cult.
Seeing that his scheme had worked perfectly, the Eightfold Confusion Monk smiled faintly and shouted,
“We will trample the Bright Cult beneath our feet!”
“We will trample the Bright Cult! Waaah!”
As he watched the martial artists of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold shouting thunderously, the Eightfold Confusion Monk’s eyes resembled those of a cold serpent.
The Unorthodox Factions began to stir.
Suddenly, the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold had raised the banner of unifying the Unorthodox Factions.
Those who submitted and knelt before the banner of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold survived.
But those who refused were all turned into corpses overnight.
Their deaths were exactly the same as what had once befallen Guisa-chu’s opposition faction.
Blood was everywhere, and the scene was filled with horrifying carnage beyond the ability to bear—yet there were no traces whatsoever of martial arts being used.
The cause of death for all of them was that they had been torn apart.
Necks ripped out, arms and legs torn off, and sometimes entire bodies shredded into pieces.
The fact that all those deaths had occurred while the victims were still alive made even the masters of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold tremble in fear.
Stepping over those gruesome deaths, the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold rapidly advanced toward unifying the Unorthodox Factions.
The Human-Faced Spider heard the news while on the way back to the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold.
Guisa-chu had been reckless and impulsive, but he was not this extreme.
And another thing—he did not possess the strength to do something like this.
That was precisely why Guisa-chu had never been able to unite even the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold itself.
Yet among those of the Unorthodox Factions who had been slaughtered simply for refusing submission was the name of the Mad Blade Sect.
The moment the Human-Faced Spider heard that name, he instinctively realized something was wrong.
The Mad Blade Sect was a sect filled with people as belligerent as their name suggested.
Though their sect numbered only about five hundred people, even the Orthodox Faction did not dare provoke them.
People said they avoided filth because it was dirty, not because they were afraid—but that was wrong.
They were afraid.
The Mad Blade Sect would bite and tear at anyone who touched them, struggling with the determination to die together if necessary.
Their temper was not their only dangerous trait.
Their martial skill was also quite formidable—enough that even the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold would take a step back.
Furthermore, the sect master of the Mad Blade Sect was also quite strong. His victory or defeat against Guisa-chu would have been impossible to predict.
Yet such a sect had been slaughtered overnight.
From that fact alone, the Human-Faced Spider strongly suspected outside interference.
Perhaps because of that, instead of returning recklessly to the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold, the Human-Faced Spider immediately returned to the Flower Pavilion to investigate what exactly had happened there.
After all, information in the Jianghu did not gather only in intelligence sects like the Beggars’ Sect or the Haomen.
Pleasure houses were also places where rumors from across the Jianghu gathered.
Especially special pleasure houses frequently visited by masters of the Jianghu—like the Flower Pavilion.
High-level information that could never be heard in the marketplace circulated there in no small quantity.
The Human-Faced Spider’s judgment proved correct.
A drunken man from a sect that had submitted to the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold—someone holding quite a high position—had vented his resentment while revealing information that left a strong impression.
“A new Four Calamity Emperor, huh.”
The martial artists of the Four Calamity Emperors’ Stronghold called him the Revolving Wheel Four Calamity Emperor, while others in the Unorthodox Factions called him the Monk Four Calamity Emperor.
They said he had a shaved head and wore prayer beads, frequently chanting the Buddhist invocation “Amitabha.”
But there was one statement that caught the Human-Faced Spider’s attention.
<They say his crimson monk’s robe reeks unpleasantly of the scent of blood, as if it had been soaked in it.>
There were no monks in the Central Plains who wore crimson robes.
Because Chan Buddhism had become the dominant tradition, monks in temples throughout the Central Plains all wore yellow robes.
As far as the Human-Faced Spider knew, the only monks who wore crimson robes were those from Tibet.
Especially the monks of the Potala Palace, who had once invaded the Central Plains and were called Blood Monks precisely because they wore robes as red as blood.
Which meant…
“Potala Palace!”
With that thought reaching his mind, the Human-Faced Spider immediately turned and headed straight for the Bright Cult.
It was not as though the Bright Cult was unaware of the upheaval among the Unorthodox Factions.
The Institute of Reason, the Bright Cult’s intelligence organization, had already detected the abnormal situation occurring among the southern Unorthodox sects.
The problem was the lack of precise information.
A considerable number of intelligence agents sent to assess the situation had lost contact, causing the intelligence-gathering operation to fail.
When contact was lost with highly trained agents deployed into the field, there were only two possibilities.
Either they had gone into hiding and fled just before being discovered—or they had already been discovered and killed.
In either case, it was not a good situation.
In the end, the Institute of Reason reached the conclusion that they needed combat power rather than intelligence agents.
The head of the Institute of Reason immediately submitted a petition to the Cult Leader, and orders were given to five of the Twenty-Seven Ghosts.
The Twenty-Seven Ghosts who had not received the honor of training at the Vice Cult Leader’s residence had been gathered together, devoting themselves to training.
The Cult Leader’s order delivered to them was simple.
<Choose five and assist the Institute of Reason.>
No specific names had been designated.
That meant the Twenty-Seven Ghosts had been granted a kind of autonomy.
It was also proof that although the Cult Leader had accepted the request of the Institute of Reason’s head, he did not consider the matter overly serious.
In any case, as a way of exercising the autonomy granted by the Cult Leader, the Twenty-Seven Ghosts chose to draw lots.
The five who were selected had to halt their rapidly progressing training and left the Bright Cult’s Main Fortress with expressions like people who had just bitten into dung.
Two intelligence agents from the Institute of Reason accompanied them as guides.
Lee Tae, who had once served under the Iron Demon, joined them thanks to receiving leave.
Since Lee Tae had no relatives or connections, he spent every vacation each year with Danggo of the Evil Slaughter Ghost among the Twenty-Seven Ghosts.
Danggo was the first and only friend Lee Tae had made after coming to the Central Plains.
To be honest, at first Lee Tae had approached him thinking he was a woman because of his overly delicate appearance.
Danggo never even glanced at him, yet Lee Tae kept pretending to be friendly and speaking to him repeatedly.
Eventually Danggo asked him,
<Why do you keep pestering me?>
A deep, low voice completely different from his delicate appearance.
Only then did Lee Tae notice the Adam’s apple on his neck.
He did not want anyone to realize that he had been attracted to a man and had been clinging to him.
So Lee Tae said,
<I’m just trying to be friends.>
That was how Lee Tae and Danggo became friends.
Of course, after they grew close enough, Lee Tae eventually told him the truth.
Danggo teased him endlessly afterward, but Lee Tae never regretted his decision, because by telling that story he no longer had anything to hide from his friend.
Perhaps realizing Lee Tae’s thoughts, Danggo also never hid the things that had happened to him or his own thoughts.
The friendship formed through such a ridiculous incident continued even after Danggo finished his three-year undercover assignment and returned to the Bright Cult.
Lee Tae accepted Danggo’s suggestion, abandoned his life as a wandering martial artist, and joined the Bright Cult.
After all, as someone who was not even from the Central Plains, the only place Lee Tae could lean his weary heart upon was Danggo.
And since Danggo happened to be dispatched during Lee Tae’s vacation period, Lee Tae followed along as well.
He intended to travel the Jianghu with his old friend for the first time in a while—and perhaps drink together at a fine tavern on the way back after completing the mission.
The Twenty-Seven Ghosts, who knew well the friendship between Lee Tae and Danggo, gladly accepted Lee Tae’s joining.
The proposal that Lee Tae would buy drinks on the return trip also appealed to them.
And from the Institute of Reason’s perspective, there was no reason to refuse the addition of someone as skilled as Lee Tae to the mission.
That was how Lee Tae came to join the Bright Cult’s mission team heading south into the regions where the Unorthodox Factions operated.