Chapter 126

Four days ago, after completing every mission and returning to the Jin Family of Taiyuan, Wipeng deeply regretted how efficiently he had handled things.

I should’ve come back a day later.

But it was already too late. Jin Wikyung had received a messenger eagle from the Lower District Sect and was flying into a rage, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.

“Those goddamn mounted bandits dare!”

“What is it this time?”

“Pung Yang! The Red Wind Band! The Mount Heng Sword Sect! My brothers are in danger! Great danger! We leave at once!”

“…I’ll assemble the guards.”

Now that every obstacle had been swept aside, Jin Wikyung’s authority was absolute. Before even half a shichen had passed, the two left the family grounds with fifty elite guards and raced onward without rest.

Two days later, they stopped at a Lower District Sect branch to change horses and received new information.

“What? Pung Yang is dead, and the Red Wind Band has been annihilated?”

“Yes! According to our sect’s intelligence, most of the enemy force—some three hundred men—was wiped out, and Young Master Jin Taekyung defeated Pung Yang himself.”

“Oh. Ohhh! Taekyung!”

Jin Wikyung’s laughter, as if he had gained the whole world, vanished without a trace at the next words.

“Tell me again. What happened to Mukyung?”

“W-well… he suffered a considerable injury during his life-and-death duel with Pung Yang. But his life isn’t in danger, and he’s recovering quickly, so there should be no need to worry.”

It was already over. Jin Wikyung had probably heard nothing except considerable injury.

When his younger brothers were children, if even a thorn pierced one of their fingers, he would raise such a commotion that you would have thought the finger had been severed.

And it wasn’t a minor injury. It was a considerable one. This is going to be a disaster.

Experience told Wipeng what would happen next.

Sure enough, he was exactly right.

“Mukyung is hovering between life and death?!”

The Lower District Sect member blinked at Jin Wikyung’s roar.

“Y-yes?”

“Pung Yang! You dare kill my little brother!”

First Jin Wikyung turned a considerable injury into hovering between life and death, and now he’d pronounced Mukyung dead outright. The Lower District Sect member finally came to his senses and hurriedly opened his mouth.

“Lesser Family Head, I think there’s been a terrible misunderstanding…”

“I’ll tear your limbs to shreds and scatter them across the Nine Provinces!”

“…”

“…”

Jin Wikyung’s fury did not subside until another day had passed.

“Mukyung and Taekyung left the Mount Heng Sword Sect yesterday?”

“Yes. So please take it down a notch.”

“Are they both safe?”

“If they weren’t, they’d be carried here on a cart. Why would they be riding in a carriage?”

“Then…”

“You should see them around noon tomorrow.”

The thought that he could finally rest filled Wipeng with relief.

Who was he, after all? He was a Peak master known by the epithet Ghost Sword. He had the skill to secure an important position wherever he went, yet choosing the wrong lord had condemned him to this grueling labor.

When was the last time I had a drink?

Today, at last, he could enjoy some roast duck and a warm cup of liquor.

A satisfied smile had just appeared around Wipeng’s lips when Jin Wikyung spoke.

“Good. Then let’s hurry and get ready.”

“Pardon? Get ready for what?”

“My brothers overcame countless hardships and successfully completed their mission. We have to hold a welcoming ceremony.”

“…And what about me? Did I spend more than half a month touring the martial world for pleasure?”

“Hm? Who? Oh, you?”

Jin Wikyung blinked at Wipeng, then burst into hearty laughter.

“Of course that includes you! Surely you didn’t think I’d forgotten?”

I’d thought surely not, but this guy had definitely forgotten.

As Wipeng stared at him in disbelief, opening and closing his mouth without a word, Jin Wikyung continued.

“Ah, have your men buy some cloth from a nearby fabric shop. As large as possible.”

“Cloth? Why do we suddenly need that?”

“I have something in mind.”

“…And that’s what happened.”

I glanced around as I listened to Wipeng, who looked ten years older than the last time I’d seen him.

We had reached Sakju two days after leaving the Mount Heng Sword Sect. The city was unexpectedly packed with people, and at the entrance, a gigantic white cloth bearing black writing fluttered in the wind.

Congratulations on the safe return of Jin Mukyung, Jin Taekyung, and Hyuk Mujin!

—Everyone in the Jin Family of Taiyuan—

A groan escaped me before I knew it.

“Oh, fuck. What the hell is that…?”

I had never seen anything like it in my life.

The banner’s width alone was more than twenty jang—over sixty meters.¹ Strung between the tops of two pavilions facing each other across a broad avenue, it looked as though it might even be visible from the Mount Heng Sword Sect.

Look at that unnecessarily flamboyant calligraphy.

Even overbearing parents whose child had been accepted into a prestigious university wouldn’t go this far.

Jin Mukyung, Hyuk Mujin, and I stared up at the banner with our mouths hanging open as if we had planned it.

“Why is my name so small?”

I looked again to see what he meant. Sure enough, even Hyuk Mujin’s name had been included in tiny letters.

“Are you disappointed that the letters are small? I’d be happy if I were you.”

“It looks strange. You can barely see my name from down here.”

“Want to take my name out and put yours there instead? I mean it.”

Hyuk Mujin considered the offer for a moment.

“Now that I think about it, it seems fine as it is.”

“Then shut up.”

“Yes, sir.”

That was as far as our conversation got. The overbearing parent—no, Jin Wikyung—came running toward us with the brightest smile in the world.

“You rascals!”

Was he a man or a brown bear?

The giant, well over two meters tall, pulled Jin Mukyung and me close with hands the size of pot lids. His brute strength was so tremendous that it would not have been strange if he had crushed us to pieces.

“I’m so glad you’re safe. Really, so glad!”

We had been safe.

Right up until Jin Wikyung hugged us with all his strength.

Crack.

“Guh!”

“Mukyung!”

…He doesn’t look very safe now.

The perpetrator, still embracing his victim as he trembled in pain, shouted,

“Doctor! Doctor!”

“I think we should call a doctor. He looks like he’s in real pain.”

Wipeng answered me wearily.

“Is this your first day dealing with him? I knew this would happen, so I called one in advance.”

“Ohhh.”

It was the first time Wipeng had ever seemed magnificent.

The three Jin brothers of the Jin Family of Taiyuan, including me, and Wipeng gathered together shortly after sunset.

When Jin Mukyung appeared wrapped in even thicker bandages, Jin Wikyung watched him apprehensively.

“Are you all right?”

“Would you be all right if it were you, my lord? How could you treat someone who was already injured so roughly?”

“I thought I was being gentle…”

Jin Wikyung might not have been the strongest in martial arts, but when it came to raw physical strength, he was Shanxi’s Number One.

I quietly slid my chair farther away as Jin Mukyung answered with a haggard expression.

“I’m fine.”

“…”

He looked anything but fine.

It was fortunate that Jin Mukyung was a Peak master. An ordinary civilian who had never learned a single martial art wouldn’t have been able to walk after that.

“I heard the Second Young Master had been injured, but I didn’t realize it was this severe. Even his Internal Injury hasn’t fully healed…”

“Did that Pung Yang bastard really do this to you?”

Jin Mukyung calmly nodded in response to their questions.

“He was strong. Stronger than I expected.”

And who was Jin Mukyung? A promising young prodigy who had drawn the attention of the entire realm. Through dazzling talent and relentless effort, he had reached the Peak realm at an early age—yet he had been defeated by a mere mounted-bandit leader.

“You mean he was truly that powerful?”

“Pung Yang… I’ve heard that there are some fairly skilled masters among the mounted bandits of Gaoyuan. But still…”

Their gazes suddenly turned toward me.

The silent pressure told me to stop stuffing my face with roast duck and say something.

I swallowed the food filling my mouth and opened it.

“It’s true. You’ve heard what happened to the Great Hero known as the Tiger of Mount Heng, right? His arms and legs got wrecked too. He’s been getting around in a wheelchair lately.”

“What is a wheelchair?”

“Ah, a cart. A cart.”

Jin Wikyung tapped the table with one thick finger.

“A master of that caliber would have been known long ago. Mukyung, is it possible that you let your guard down?”

This time, Jin Mukyung shook his head without hesitation.

“I was caught by a move I hadn’t anticipated, but that cannot be an excuse. Even if we fought again, the result would be the same.”

“…He was that strong?”

“He used Body-Protecting Qi. It was overwhelming.”

Jin Wikyung’s and Wipeng’s eyes widened simultaneously.

“Body-Protecting Qi!”

“Second Young Master, is that true?”

There was no need for an answer. Jin Mukyung had no reason to tell such an obvious lie. Facing their shock, he continued.

“He was the strongest opponent I’ve ever fought. No—to be precise, I should say he became that strong.”

“Became?”

“What do you mean by that…?”

“The instant he swallowed a blood-red pill, he became terrifyingly powerful.”

At last, the conversation had reached the Temporary Strength Pill.

I tried to act as naturally as possible.

I can’t let them find out I have it.

The Temporary Strength Pill was a poisoned chalice. It was undeniably ominous and suspicious, but its tremendous effects couldn’t be ignored.

I had already decided to use it as a second-worst contingency for the worst possible moment—when I was facing death.

“It was only for a brief moment, but when he was about to take the pill, I clearly saw that one pill remained inside the wooden case…”

Jin Mukyung trailed off and looked at me.

“Did you happen to find anything on Pung Yang’s person afterward?”

“Hm? Like what?”

“A wooden case. Or the red pill I mentioned.”

I deliberately furrowed my brow.

“I’m not sure. I searched him afterward to see if he had anything, but a bunch of wooden splinters spilled out. Maybe those were pieces of the case?”

“Then the pill? The pill?”

“No idea. I was half-dead myself. How was I supposed to search through everything?”

It was a fairly convincing excuse.

It wasn’t as though only one or two people had died, and the battle had been brutally fierce. It was only natural that I’d been too exhausted to search properly. What more could he say?

“Is that so?”

“The people from the Mount Heng Sword Sect might have found it. Or it could have dissolved into one of the countless pools of blood scattered across the ground.”

“Hmm.”

Jin Mukyung stared at me with faint suspicion, but I merely shrugged.

You won’t find it even if you search, idiot.

I had tucked it safely into a corner of the greatest vault in existence—my Inventory, which only I could open and close. Neither Jin Mukyung nor the greatest thief under heaven could touch a hair of the Temporary Strength Pill.

It really is convenient.

While I marveled once more at the convenience of the System, Jin Wikyung and Wipeng began speculating about the pill’s origins.

“It must be a relic of demonic, heterodox arts. I remember hearing that quite a few pills with similar effects were used during the Great Faction War.”

“Northern Shanxi, including Gaoyuan, once fell into the hands of the Demonic Cult. If Pung Yang discovered some remnant they left behind, it would make sense.”

I had been listening with my ears perked up when I suddenly froze.

Wait. The Demonic Cult?

The Demonic Cult was a regular fixture you could never leave out of a Murim novel, the licorice in every medicine shop, and Geum Jandi’s honorary firefighter.²

Of course, it wasn’t a religious organization devoted to world peace and helping the poor. It was more like IS—the Islamic terrorist group.

In short, they were a bunch of fanatics you had absolutely nothing to gain from getting involved with.

What if the Demonic Cult made the Temporary Strength Pill?

Pung Yang’s eyes had been stained red, like a demon that had just climbed out of hell. The pill had granted him unimaginable power, even if only temporarily.

I’m starting to see the picture.

This felt wrong. Really fucking wrong!

But nothing could be gained without suffering. The side effects should be something I could endure…

“The best-known pill used by the Demonic Cult at the time was the Blood-Exploding Pill, if memory serves.”

“I’ve only heard stories about it. Don’t all the blood vessels in the user’s body burst after two shichen, killing them?”

“That was the price of trying to gain power through dark arts.”

“If the Blood-Exploding Pill was that terrible, just how severe would the side effects of Pung Yang’s pill be?”

“I don’t know, but they must be beyond imagination. It wouldn’t just damage his innate qi. Once the time limit ended, his body would suffer tremendous strain. In the end, the pill uses the body itself as kindling and burns it for a brief period.”

I swallowed dryly. Before I knew it, my voice had jumped out.

“And after that?”

“It was made by the Demonic Cult. What else would you expect? Once the demonic qi surges into your very marrow… you’d become a murderous fiend who knows nothing but blood.”

“…A murderous fiend? The demonic qi surges into his marrow?”

“If an item like that fell into the hands of a villain, it would be a true disaster… Taekyung, what’s wrong?”

Jin Wikyung looked at me with concern. I rubbed my forehead and found it covered in beads of sweat.

“Nothing. I’m just a little hot.”

“What are you talking about? It’s snowing outside.”

“What would a Soeumin know? I’m a Taeyangin. That’s why…”³

Damn it. I didn’t even know what I was saying anymore.

I gave the three of them an awkward smile.

“There’s something I forgot earlier.”

“…?”

“…?”

“…?”

“That pill. Now that I think about it, I have it. Heh-heh. Heh-heh-heh.”

“…!”

“…!”

“…!”