Chapter 347

The Sichuan Tang Clan’s underground prison was dark and damp. There was also something about it that sent a chill down the spine.

Perhaps that was only natural. Countless people must have met their deaths here since the underground prison was built.

“Care for a drink?”

In that sense, the old man holding out a worn gourd was practically the Grim Reaper of the underground prison.

I briefly wondered how many people this diminutive, hunchbacked old man had dealt with before answering.

“No, thank you.”

“If that’s what you want, then.”

Gulp, gulp.

Old Man Gung tilted the gourd back and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. The sleeve was so worn it looked ready to crumble, and it was covered in dark red stains that looked like blood.

“Ahh, that’s good.”

The potent scent of liquor drifted through the stench of blood lingering in the corridor and tickled the tip of my nose.

Drinking on duty. At the Jin Family of Taiyuan, that would have been grounds for a disciplinary report, but it seemed that rule did not apply in the Sichuan Tang Clan’s underground prison.

“I heard you’re one of the most renowned young prodigies in the Murim.”

It was obvious who he was talking to. Cheongpung and Tang Sadok had disappeared somewhere early on, while the Divine Physician and Mungyeong were busy purifying the prison and turning it into a treatment room.

I answered reluctantly.

“I’m not that renowned. I can fart a little, though.”

“What I’ve heard says otherwise. As the Fire King’s successor, you could piss on the plaques of the Nine Sects and One Gang and get away with it.”

Old Man Gung grinned, baring teeth that had almost entirely rotted away.

“We’ve got a fellow locked up here who did just that.”

“Did what?”

“The fellow who pissed on the plaque of one of the Nine Sects and One Gang. I believe it was the Kunlun Sect, if memory serves.”

“…There are all kinds of people in this world.”

“Heh heh. He was once notorious even among the Demonic Cult’s fiends. Now he’s tied to a rack and does nothing but shit blood. You must have seen him on your way in.”

“Did I?”

The Sichuan Tang Clan’s underground prison was as winding and complicated as a maze. On the way here, I had seen dozens of cells and more than ten prisoners.

That fellow who pissed on the Kunlun Sect’s plaque was probably one of them.

They were people paying the price for their evil deeds. I did not feel even the slightest bit of sympathy.

No, it would be more accurate to say that I had no room to worry about something like that.

I didn’t expect to be this nervous.

The peculiar unease I had felt ever since entering the prison refused to fade.

It was the same feeling I had experienced several years ago, when my mother went into the operating room and I sat in a quiet corridor waiting for the results.

It’ll be fine. Everything will be all right.

As I muttered those words inwardly, the tightly closed prison door opened, and a dozen servants carrying various cleaning tools came rushing out.

I asked the last person to emerge.

“Is it done?”

The Divine Physician nodded with a bright expression.

In the space of two shichen, the prison cell visible behind him had been transformed into a fairly convincing treatment room.

“It is still far from satisfactory, but this should be enough to make it functional.”

“Then…”

“Yes. We begin now.”

At last, all the preparations were complete.

The various medicines made by combining the twenty-four herbs gathered from the Cold-Ice Land had already been brought here. The treatment room was ready. Only one thing remained.

“Thank you all for your hard work. Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?”

At my words, the people of the Sichuan Tang Clan, including Old Man Gung, began to leave. I waited until they had disappeared, then reached into my robes.

Inventory Open, Summon.

A hard object appeared in my previously empty palm. For safety’s sake, I had kept the Myriad-Poison Ring with me for a while, but now I handed it to the Divine Physician.

The Divine Physician accepted the ring, slipped it onto his finger, and entered the prison cell while gesturing to me.

“Would you bring the patient in?”

I lowered the pack frame from my shoulders. Along with the faint sound of breathing, a small figure emerged.

“Over here.”

I stepped into the prison cell with Jeok Cheongang in my arms. The floor was clean, but the stench had not completely disappeared and still lingered at the tip of my nose.

None of that mattered, however. The weight of Jeok Cheongang, light as a feather, made my chest ache unusually badly.

You’ve grown so weak.

A month and a half had passed since we left the Murim Alliance in Henan and began our journey.

We had found the Divine Physician and secured his treatment far more quickly than I had expected, but Jeok Cheongang had continued to weaken day by day.

I carefully laid him down on the smooth white stone prepared in the center of the room.

It was a special object called Cold-Ice Stone, which Tang Sadok had provided. The Divine Physician had said it would be a great help in treating Jeok Cheongang.

“He’s sleeping soundly.”

Jeok Cheongang’s face was gaunt as he lay there, but it was peaceful all the same.

I stared at his face, covered in wrinkles and age spots.

Memories from our first meeting until now flashed before my eyes.

What an interesting kid.

The more I look at you, the stranger you seem. Whose disciple are you?

I remembered that ill-tempered old man I had met at Jang Taebo’s house a year ago.

The roof is old. It leaks.

I also remembered the master who, unable to stop the wretched disciple he cherished like family, blamed a perfectly good roof and shed tears of regret.

If you kill that bastard, I’ll kill you too.

I entrusted the Fire Gate Clan’s sacred artifact to that kid.

I’ll pass on everything I have to you.

From Shanxi to Henan, and from Henan to Anhui. Then there was the year at Mount Jiuhua. I remembered every moment I had spent with him.

Jeok Cheongang had led me outside the Jin Family of Taiyuan, and I had followed him into the vast world beyond. We had always been together.

How is it? Just as I told you, right?

What are you talking about?

The Dance of the Fire God and Demon. Wasn’t it incredible?

His face and voice came back to me—the faint smile he wore even while vomiting blood.

Even the single remark he had tossed out on a day when the moon shone brilliantly, while trying to sound gruff.

Master, my ass. Call me Old Master.

“Old Master.”

Even when I called out loud, no answer came back.

I knew that, yet I still called out—not because I hoped he would hear me, but because there was something I wanted to tell him.

“Did you know?”

I don’t, you idiot!

A dry laugh escaped me at the voice that seemed to echo from somewhere. I gripped Jeok Cheongang’s wrinkled hand tightly and whispered,

“I’ve always wanted to call you Master.”

I did not know when it had happened. But at some point, I realized it.

He was my Master, and I was his Disciple.

We had both been quietly turning those words over in our hearts.

“Young Master Jin. It is time.”

At the Divine Physician’s words, I tore my gaze away from Jeok Cheongang’s face.

Then I politely saluted the old physician standing there with a composed expression, along with his young Disciple.

“Please… take good care of my Master.”

The two men returned the salute.

“We will do our best.”

“I will help my Master and do everything I can as well.”

Yes. That was enough.

Do everything one could and leave the rest to heaven.

We had done everything humans could do. Now all that remained was to leave it to the heavens.

God, Buddha, Allah, the Jade Emperor.

Whoever you are, if you help me just this once, I will never forget it.

I did not believe in gods, but I did believe that an omniscient and omnipotent being existed somewhere above the heavens.

As I offered a brief prayer to that being, whose face and name I did not know, the Divine Physician spoke in a solemn voice.

“Remember this. Fifteen days—fifteen days. Until then, no one may approach.”

What should I do if it takes longer than fifteen days?

I swallowed the words hovering on the tip of my tongue. Now, I had no choice but to trust the two of them. There was only one thing I could say.

“I will stop anyone who tries to enter, even if I have to stake my life on it.”

“Is that everything?”

The middle-aged man looked down at the man before him with numb eyes.

The man’s limbs were twisted at grotesque angles, and his skin had been flayed away. Drenched in blood, he wheezed in a voice as tiny as an ant.

“I—I’ve already told you everything I know…”

“Aren’t you leaving out the most important part?”

“I don’t know. I truly don’t.”

Blood tears flowed from his one remaining eye, while the trouser legs already soaked in blood grew wet with urine.

The man forced out a trembling voice.

“Please… just kill me now…”

The middle-aged man watched the man’s eyes, which looked ready to go out at any moment, then clicked his tongue.

“Judging by this, it seems you were telling the truth.”

The man had already endured half a day of unimaginable torture.

If he had begged to be spared, there might still have been room for doubt. But once the word death escaped his lips, the middle-aged man had to accept that he was telling the truth.

Until now, no one had ever lied to the middle-aged man.

With one exception—the Poison King, Tang Taesang.

“I’ve seen your half-day’s worth of courage. You can rest now.”

Whoosh—thud!

Along with the sound of a single gust of wind, the blood-soaked head jerked backward. A flick of the middle-aged man’s finger had pierced the man between the brows, and he died with a peaceful expression.

The middle-aged man stared down at the body of the man who had been a member of a collateral branch of the Sichuan Tang Clan and an operative of the Green Shadow Squad. Then he stretched out a hand.

Boom!

A pit a zhang deep appeared with a thunderous roar.

The five bodies scattered around him were neatly stacked inside it, and the entire process—from burying them beneath the earth to covering the pit—took no more than an instant.

“The Green Shadow Squad… So those gnats have latched on.”

The middle-aged man muttered quietly as he looked beyond the winding mountain ridge. His gaze was directed west, toward the Sichuan Tang Clan.

I should have killed Tang Sadok when he came out.

It had been a mistake. The Poison King’s resistance had been stronger than expected, and it had taken considerable time to drive the poison out. He had even lost one of his arms.

Emei or Qingcheng might have been another matter, but the Sichuan Tang Clan was highly vigilant and thoroughly defended. Even for him, storming the place alone with one arm missing would be too much.

But his life has only been extended by a few days. The outcome will not change.

He had long since grasped every movement taking place in Sichuan.

All preparations were complete to hunt the three tigers crouching in Sichuan—Emei, Qingcheng, and the Tang Clan.

Now…

It was time to call in the hunters.

Whoosh!

The middle-aged man moved as smoothly as if he were sliding. With every step, distance vanished beneath him and the scenery blurred past.

At last, he stopped before a cliff deep in the mountains.

“This is the place.”

Without hesitation, the middle-aged man reached out and touched the cliff.

The next moment—

Vwoom.

Along with a resonant hum, the cliff collapsed.

No. It would have been more accurate to say that space itself had warped. The weathered stones and boulders vanished, revealing a vast hollow that had been hidden from sight.

The sorcerers’ Mystic Gate Formation. It never stops being impressive.

But compared to what he was about to do, even this was nothing more than a parlor trick.

Step. Step. Step.

At the center of the hollow, where darkness had settled thickly, the middle-aged man stood in the middle of a strange pattern carved into the floor and raised his internal energy.

The instant the dark red haze pouring from his entire body touched the pattern—

“Lord of Heaven!”

Flash!

At the middle-aged man’s cry, the pattern began to shine. A black flash—dark yet bright, impossible to describe—filled the hollow.

Then, filling the space left behind after the light vanished, came a thunderous roar.

“We pay our respects to the Western Heaven Demon Lord!”

“We pay our respects to the Demon Lord!”

Hundreds of tiger hunters in pitch-black robes stood before him, their eyes devoid of emotion and their auras as sharp as blades.

A faint smile formed at the lips of the middle-aged man—the Western Heaven Demon Lord.