Chapter 348

The black-robed men stood in neat ranks and files. The sheer number of them—several hundred—was not the only thing filling the enormous cavern.

It was their aura.

The suffocating aura emanating from the men—their eyes deep-set, their bodies upright as iron towers—was swallowing the cavern.

And towering over them all stood one man—a giant in his own right.

“Third Fiend.”

Vwoom.

His voice, infused with profound internal energy, bored into the black-robed men’s ears. They shuddered, and the three old men at the front were no exception.

They stepped forward several paces, then prostrated themselves at the middle-aged man’s feet in perfect unison.

“The juniors of the Qilian Mountains pay their respects to the Western Heaven Demon Lord.”

Their faces, builds, and voices—everything about the three old men was astonishingly alike.

They were brothers born from the same womb.

Their mother had died giving birth to them, and their father had abandoned his young children and left. Stranded in the barren land of Qinghai, the three brothers hid near the vast mountain range to escape the scorn of others.

Then, one day, after everyone had forgotten them, the brothers returned.

They returned as the Qilian Three Fiends.

“You’ve aged quite a bit since I last saw you. I suppose I could call you the Three Old Men now.”

“N-no, my lord. How could the likes of us be called old while you are here?”

The Qilian Three Fiends had once been fiends who dyed Qinghai Province red with blood. Yet before the Western Heaven Demon Lord, they were nothing more than docile lambs.

The Qilian Three Fiends swallowed hard, then opened their mouths at the same time, as if they were one person.

“B-but, my lord. Forgive us for saying so, but your arm…”

“This?”

The Western Heaven Demon Lord looked down at the empty sleeve where one of his arms should have been and answered in a dry voice.

“It was the price I paid for two lives.”

“Does that mean…”

“The two old fossils from the Tang Clan and Emei are no longer of this world.”

“……!”

The air inside the cavern trembled with agitation.

Who were the Poison King and the Heaven-Shaking Venerable Nun? They were giants who had left their mark on the history of the Murim, Supreme Peak masters who had dominated an entire era.

And yet…

Both had met their end at the hands of a single man.

The Qilian Three Fiends and the black-robed men stared at their leader in awe.

“Th-then…”

“Yes.”

A fierce light flashed in the Western Heaven Demon Lord’s eyes.

“The time has finally come.”

Right now, my eyes are closed.

I focus my mind in the quiet darkness. As a voice pierces my ears, someone’s figure takes shape in the darkness.

Neither tall nor short, the young man hiding claws behind an innocent smile is Cheongpung.

“First, I’ll use Crouching Tiger Fist to target my Benefactor’s shoulder, chest, and stomach in that order.”

The imaginary Cheongpung moves through the darkness.

Fast.

He erases the distance in a single step and rushes in, his fist blurring. I can almost hear the fierce whistle of air being torn apart.

“I can dodge that easily. I’ll retreat half a step diagonally and throw a punch at your flank.”

“I’ll use Chaotic Flower Hand to redirect your force as I retreat, then counter with Thirty-Six Plum Blossom Swords.”

“What form?”

“One Cut Under Heaven.”

One Cut Under Heaven was among the most powerful supreme forms of the Thirty-Six Plum Blossom Swords.

Even back when Cheongpung and I had sparred regularly, I had chosen to evade that technique rather than block it.

“Isn’t that a little excessive?”

“Given who my opponent is, I have to give it everything I’ve got.”

“What happened to calling me Benefactor?”

“That’s one thing, and this is another. Hehe. Anyway, One Cut Under Heaven.”

One Cut Under Heaven.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine how the attack would come.

In the darkness, Cheongpung uses Chaotic Flower Hand to redirect my force and retreat without taking the blow. The instant his hand reaches his waist, a flash bursts forth.

Sshk!

With a spine-chilling hiss, Sword Energy surges out horizontally.

I can see it vividly before me.

What should I do?

I don’t have to think long.

“I’ll deflect it. First form of the Fire Dragon Divine Spear—Fire Dragon’s Single Tail.”

“You won’t be able to block it.”

“When was the last time we fought?”

“Hmm. About a year ago.”

“If you think about it one way, that’s short. If you think about it another, it’s a long time. It was long for me. Long enough for a single day to feel like ten years.”

“……!”

“Think again. Are you sure I can’t block it?”

Cheongpung was silent for a moment before answering. His voice had sunk low.

“I was wrong. If it’s you, Benefactor… I think you can.”

“Then let’s continue.”

Cheongpung and I devoted ourselves to discussing martial arts for a long while.

It had been more than a year since we had actually crossed hands, but from the Star-Array Grand Banquet until now, we had come to know each other’s martial arts and skill levels well enough to make this possible.

“Three steps to the left. Plum Blossom Five-Point Finger.”

“Plum Blossom Five-Point Finger is an excellent martial art, but it won’t matter as long as I protect my vital points. I’ll follow you in and strike your chest with Flame-Extinguishing Divine Fist.”

Within the scenes we each imagine, the battle surges back and forth.

One hundred exchanges. Two hundred.

Before long, our imagined bout passes five hundred exchanges. Then Cheongpung suddenly speaks.

“I’ll use Dark Fragrance Drift to close to within two steps, then Plum Blossom Three-Ridge Sword.”

All of a sudden?

Cheongpung was weaker than me in close combat. He had learned Huashan’s outstanding supreme martial arts, but perhaps because the sect’s roots lay in sword techniques, the Fire Gate Clan had a slight advantage when it came to palm techniques.

And yet he was coming in this close…

Ah. So that’s it.

I had suspected as much, but this was Cheongpung, all right.

I opened my eyes with a hollow laugh. When I didn’t answer for a long while, Cheongpung cautiously opened his eyes to a narrow slit and asked,

“Benefactor, why?”

“That’s enough for today.”

“Ah! Why?”

“Because it would be a shame.”

“What?”

“Let’s fight for real later. Not through a discussion like this. Let’s actually cross weapons.”

It would be too unsatisfying to decide the outcome through an imagined exchange. I meant that we should settle it later with both of us fighting at full strength.

Cheongpung was as innocent as a child, but by no means stupid. Surely that was enough for him to understand—

“Why would we cross weapons? Wouldn’t they collide?”

“…….”

No.

Maybe he really was just an idiot.

While I regretted my hasty judgment, Cheongpung began pestering me.

“I’m bored, Benefactor. Can’t we keep going?”

“Oh, Cheongpung. Did you hear about that?”

“About what?”

I gazed intently at Cheongpung and parted my lips.

“I heard there’s a former imperial chef at the Sichuan Tang Clan.”

“An imperial chef?”

“Apparently, his cooking is incredible. Especially his pastries and sweets.”

Gasp.

Cheongpung’s eyes glazed over for a moment, but he soon shook his head vigorously.

“N-no. I have to stay here with you and watch over Grandpa Jeok.”

“It’s fine. I’m staying here anyway, so—”

“Then I’ll be back!”

“……Sure. Go ahead.”

Whoosh!

What was that? Some kind of bullet movement technique?

Once Cheongpung had vanished at the speed of light, I looked around.

A bleak chill and a foul stench permeated the underground prison. I hadn’t taken a single step outside since the treatment began.

“It’s only the fourth day.”

The words escaped me like a sigh.

Time passed far more slowly in the underground prison than I had imagined. Not because the place never saw a ray of sunlight, but because of the anxiety and tension felt only by those who were waiting.

Perhaps that was why every day felt like my blood was drying up.

“Maybe I should have stayed in front of the treatment room.”

Even as I said it, I shook my head. There was nothing I could do by pacing in front of the treatment room door anyway.

With my five senses already sharpened to their limit, I would only listen to every sound coming from inside until I could no longer bear it, then retreat and pace through the underground prison at a distance.

Just as I was doing now.

Still, it’s awfully quiet now that I’m alone.

With Cheongpung, who had stuck to me like glue for the past three days, suddenly gone, I felt strangely empty.

Tang Sadok had forbidden even Old Man Gung from entering the prison, so I was completely alone now.

No. Come to think of it, I’m not alone.

I wasn’t talking about the Divine Physician and Mungyeong, who were probably completely absorbed in treating Jeok Cheongang.

There were ten or so prisoners trapped in the underground prison, waiting for the day they would die.

They were my roommates.

Not exactly the best roommates, though.

They weren’t the kind who left the toilet unflushed or constantly brought their lovers over. Every one of them was a fiend who had earned a notorious name throughout the martial world.

Even if they were imprisoned, there was no way sharing a space with men like that could be enjoyable.

And the most troublesome part was…

Dong. Ddong. Ddeeeong.

I’m the one who has to feed them.

I frowned at the familiar tolling of the bell.

With Old Man Gung gone, someone had to make sure the prisoners were still alive and bring them their meals.

That someone was me.

The bell that had just rung was the signal from outside announcing mealtime.

At least it’s only once a day.

Still, bothersome was bothersome. I sighed and started walking.

In a corner of the prison, a battered old wooden barrel awaited me, filled with scraps of food haphazardly mixed together.

It had been poured down through a hole connected to the surface. Calling it a meal was generous. It was basically a slop bucket.

No one’s around, so I guess it’s feeding time.

There was a reason Tang Sadok had used the word feed three days ago.

The Sichuan Tang Clan treated the prisoners here like dogs and pigs.

No, dogs and pigs had it better. At least livestock didn’t have to worry about surprise visits from Old Man Gung carrying an assortment of torture implements and wearing an eerie smile.

“Heave-ho.”

Adopting the mindset of a zookeeper, I carried the slop bucket around the prison.

Beyond the thick iron bars, prisoners sat with their arms and legs bound in steel chains. All I had to do was open each door, step inside, scoop up a heaping ladleful, and dump it into the battered bowl set before them.

Whenever I did that, the prisoners, who had been lying limp and helpless after prolonged imprisonment and torture, would make their eyes flash and strike up a conversation.

“Never seen your face before.”

“You’ve been seeing me for three days. What kind of bullshit is that?”

“Release me. I’ll teach you martial arts that can look down on all under heaven.”

“Judging by the fact that you’re rotting in here, they sound like martial arts the whole world can look down on.”

“You insolent bastard… The moment I get out of here, I’ll tear you apart and kill you myself.”

“Oh, impressive. I’ll be sure to pass that along to Old Man Gung.”

“Please! Anything but that!”

The attempts to win me over never stopped.

Some offered to teach me their martial arts. A middle-aged beauty who had once drained the vital essence of the Tang Clan’s direct line through a technique of harvesting yang to replenish yin even tried to seduce me.

“Child. Why don’t you come a little closer? I’ll show you heaven.”

“Kirara Asuka. Grandma Uehara.”¹

“……What?”

“The mainland still has a long way to go compared to the island nation. Stop talking nonsense and eat your damn food.”

“You little—Hey! You turtle bastard!”

I ignored her spiteful shouting and headed toward the last prison cell.

In the most secluded and damp corner was a strange man with disheveled hair.

He’s the quietest old man in this prison.

He was also the most dangerous.

The severed sinews and meridians in his limbs and the restraints several times heavier and sturdier than those of the other prisoners were proof enough.

Rattle. Thump.

The old man stared silently at the bowl of unidentifiable food before suddenly speaking.

“I heard you talking about this old man.”

I stopped short.

Not because it was the first time I had heard his voice in three days, but because I had no idea what he meant.

“Talking about you? When did I do that?”

“Three days ago. Did that Gung fellow not mention me?”

“Gung fellow? Old Man Gung?”

I searched my memory for a moment, then looked at the old man with newfound surprise.

“Oh. Then are you the one who pissed on the Kunlun Sect’s signboard?”

“Yes. This old man is the Heavenly Power Demon—”

“So you were the Kunlun Sect’s public-pissing criminal.”

“…….”

The old man—the Heavenly Power Demon—had an eyelid that twitched.