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 done away 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 earned him a disciplinary report, but apparently 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 reluctantly answered.

“I wouldn’t say I’m that renowned. I can fart a little, though.”

“That’s not what I heard. As the Fire King’s successor, you could piss on the plaques of the Nine Sects and One Gang¹ 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?”

“Pissed on the plaque of one of the Nine Sects and One Gang¹. The Kunlun Sect, I believe.”

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

“Heh heh. He was once notorious even among the Demonic Cult’s fiends. Now he’s strapped to a rack, doing nothing but shitting 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 holding more than ten prisoners.

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

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

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’d had several years ago, when my mother went into surgery and I sat in a quiet corridor waiting to hear how it had gone.

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

As I repeated those words to myself, the tightly shut cell door opened and a dozen servants carrying various cleaning tools came pouring out.

I addressed the last person to emerge.

“Is it done?”

The Divine Physician nodded, his expression bright.

In the space of two shichen², the cell behind him had been transformed into a fairly convincing treatment room.

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

“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 giving us the room for a moment?”

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

Inventory Open. Summon.

Something hard appeared in my empty palm. I had kept the Myriad-Poison Ring with me for safekeeping, 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. A small figure came into view, accompanied by the faintest sound of breathing.

“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 already 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.

Swish.

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

It was a special object called Cold-Ice Stone, provided by Tang Sadok. The Divine Physician had said it would greatly aid Jeok Cheongang’s treatment.

“He’s sleeping soundly.”

Jeok Cheongang’s face was gaunt, but it also looked peaceful.

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

Memories of everything that had happened since our first meeting flashed before my eyes.

What an interesting kid.

The more I see of you, the stranger you seem. Whose disciple are you?

I clearly remembered the 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 had cherished like family, blamed a perfectly sound roof as he wept 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 came the year at Mount Jiuhua. I remembered every moment I had spent with him.

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

Well? Just as I told you, wasn’t it?

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 there wouldn’t be, yet I still called to him. Not because I hoped he would hear me, but because there was something I wanted to say.

“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 begun. But at some point, I had 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 respectfully saluted the old physician standing there with a composed expression and the young Disciple beside him.

“Please… take good care of my Master.”

The two returned my salute.

“I will do my best.”

“I, too, will assist my Master and do everything in my power.”

Yes. That was enough.

Do everything one could, then leave the rest to heaven.

We had done everything within human power. All that remained was to entrust the outcome to the heavens.

God, Buddha, Allah, the Jade Emperor³.

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

I did not believe in gods, but I did believe there was some omniscient and omnipotent being above the heavens.

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

“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’ll 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 his victim with impassive eyes.

The man’s limbs were bent at grotesque angles, and his skin had been flayed away. Reduced to a blood-soaked ruin, he wheezed in a voice as faint as an ant’s.

“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.”

Bloody tears streamed from his one remaining eye. His trouser legs, already drenched in blood, darkened further with urine.

The man forced out a trembling voice.

“Please… just kill me now…”

The middle-aged man stared into the man’s fading eye, then clicked his tongue.

“It seems you really are telling the truth.”

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

If he had begged for his life, there might still have been room for doubt. But now that he was begging for death, the middle-aged man had no choice but to accept it.

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

No one except the Poison King, Tang Taesang.

“I’ve seen the extent of your half-day’s courage. You may 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 thunderous roar rang out as a pit one zhang⁴ deep opened in the ground.

The five corpses scattered nearby were neatly stacked inside it and covered with earth, all within moments.

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

Muttering under his breath, the middle-aged man looked beyond the winding mountain ridge. West, toward the Sichuan Tang Clan.

I should have killed Tang Sadok when he came out.

That had been a mistake. The Poison King’s resistance had been fiercer than expected, and purging the poison had taken considerable time. It had even cost him an arm.

Emei or Qingcheng might have been another matter, but the Sichuan Tang Clan was exceptionally vigilant and heavily defended. Even for him, storming the place alone after losing an arm 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 summon the hunters.

Whoosh!

The middle-aged man moved as though gliding. Distance vanished with every step, and the scenery swept past him.

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

“This is the place.”

Without hesitation, the middle-aged man reached out and placed a hand against the cliff.

The next instant—

Vwoom.

A resonant hum rang out, and the cliff collapsed.

No. It would be more accurate to say that space itself had warped. The weathered stones and boulders vanished, revealing a vast hollow concealed behind them.

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.

The middle-aged man strode into the darkness blanketing the hollow. At its heart, he stopped in the center of a strange pattern carved into the floor and drew upon his internal energy.

A dark red haze poured from his entire body.

The instant it touched the pattern—

“Lord of Heaven!”

Flash!

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

Then the light vanished, and a thunderous chorus filled the space it left behind.

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

“We pay our respects to the Demon Lord!”

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

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