Chapter 350

Step. Step.

As always, I walked along carrying the slop bucket.

Time in the underground prison dragged, but it still moved as steadily as the clock at the Ministry of National Defense. I was already entering my sixth day of life in the prison, and the daily routine was gradually becoming familiar.

Clank. Screeech.

I opened the rusted bars and strode into the prison cell, where filth and dirty water had pooled.

An old man bound to a torture rack greeted me with a sly grin.

“You have come?”

He was a killing fiend who had joined the Demonic Cult during the Great Faction War and killed more than a hundred martial artists of the orthodox faction.

Now reduced to a toothless old man, he continued in an indistinct voice.

“I say this for the last time…”

I cut him off while scooping up the slop with a long ladle.

“Didn’t you say it was the last time yesterday?”

“This time, it really is the last.”

“Sure. And after saying that, tomorrow will be the real last time.”

It was something I had experienced countless times over the past six days. Nothing about it surprised me anymore.

The old man flinched at my indifferent attitude, then shouted.

“You! Become my Disciple!”

“You! Get hit.”

Whack!

The old man, struck on the crown of his head with the ladle, writhed in pain. The chains binding his limbs swung back and forth with a loud clatter.

“Graaaagh!”

“Keep it down. You’re noisy.”

“Ugh. You little bastard!”

The old man was about to start screaming at the top of his lungs when his eyes suddenly widened and his nose twitched.

He had caught the smell of oil beneath the stench of the prison.

“W-what is that smell?”

“Nothing you need to know about.”

“Roast duck. It’s roast duck! Do you have any liquor too?”

“What liquor?”

“Liar! That aroma is unmistakably Jiannan Chun!”

“…With a sense of smell like that, you’re on the level of a drug-sniffing dog.”

“Hand it over! Hurry!”

Whack!

“Graaagh!”

“It belongs to someone else. Just eat your slop.”

I set down the bucket and headed toward the final cell.

It was unusually deep and dark compared to the others, and a familiar freak was waiting for me there.

Clank.

“I’ve brought your meal.”

“……”

“You must have had a hard time waiting. By the way, why is it so cold in here? Your sleeping arrangements must be terribly uncomfortable. Should I ask the Tang Clan to lay down an animal-hide blanket for you?”

“……”

So he was going to act like this.

Despite my gentle, cat-paw-soft tone, the Heavenly Power Demon remained stubbornly silent.

After what had happened three days ago, the Heavenly Power Demon had closed his eyes and his mouth.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to make me give up.

“Come now, don’t be like that. Try eating this.”

I took out a sheet of grease-stained paper and unfolded it.

A whole roast duck, coated in various spices and cooked to perfection, revealed its plump, appetizing form. Its delicious aroma was strong enough to drive away even the stench in the cell.

“What is this? It’s roast duck made by a former imperial chef. I tried some myself, and the duck is definitely tender. The flavor is very consistent too.”

“……”

“And roast duck calls for liquor. Jiannan Chun, the famous liquor of Sichuan! Liquor and meat suit a Great Hero like the Heavenly Power Demon, don’t they?”

“……”

A chilly silence descended over the prison, where cold air was already circulating.

I stared at the Heavenly Power Demon, who was sitting cross-legged, with a bright smile. In the end, I let out a deep sigh.

“Fuck. This is impossible.”

For three days, I had tried every possible way to please him. I had changed my manner of speaking to soft, polite language, praised him as a Great Hero of benevolence and righteousness, and kissed up to him shamelessly.

But the Heavenly Power Demon had rejected every offer and convenience I extended. No matter what food or clothing I brought him, he didn’t even touch it.

“I think I’ve done more than enough. Are you really going to keep acting like this?”

“……”

“I’m only treating you this politely because I’m a decent person. What do you think will happen if the Sichuan Tang Clan finds out? Hmm?”

At that moment, the Heavenly Power Demon, who had been sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, opened his mouth. His voice, which I heard for the first time in three full days, was terribly hoarse.

“Do so.”

“What?”

“This old man has suffered enough torture to be sick of it. Even if I leave this world, I will have no regrets.”

The Heavenly Power Demon had spent more than forty years imprisoned in the underground prison. His detached appearance reminded me of an enlightened monk, and I clicked my tongue.

“Good grief. You really don’t make things easy. Is it really so difficult to tell me only what you know about Dark Heaven?”

“This old man has already said everything he has to say. Kill me or torture me. Do as you please.”

“No, what kind of old man is this?”

But the Heavenly Power Demon’s lips had already sealed shut. And they probably wouldn’t open again.

“…What a stubborn old man.”

I let out a sigh deep enough to make the earth sink, placed the liquor and roast duck within reach of his hands, and turned away.

“Fine, I understand for now, but eat that. You haven’t eaten anything for three days.”

Even as I said it, I knew the truth. Whether I came tomorrow, the day after, or three days from now, the food I had given him would be cold and exactly as I had left it.

“Damn it.”

After finishing the food distribution with the Heavenly Power Demon, I collapsed in a corridor far from the prison cells.

The Heavenly Power Demon.

That indescribable look in his eyes and his rigid face kept flickering before me. That was unmistakably the agitation the two words Dark Heaven had stirred in him.

The problem was, he refused to say a single word about Dark Heaven.

But it’s certain that he knew about Dark Heaven long ago.

I hadn’t heard it directly from the Heavenly Power Demon, but it was already as good as established fact.

The question was how much he knew about Dark Heaven, and how he had come to know it.

I slowly began retracing the conversation I had shared with the Heavenly Power Demon three days ago.

After putting the brain that had earned me seventh-tier school grades through its paces, I arrived at only one plausible conclusion.

Dark Heaven and the Demonic Cult are deeply connected.

No. They might even be one and the same.

The Heavenly Power Demon had once been an Elder of the Demonic Cult. Even after spending forty years imprisoned and tortured in the underground prison, he had never lost his loyalty to the Cult. His silence was proof enough.

If Dark Heaven had been an enemy of the Demonic Cult, he would have opened his mouth long ago.

Then what the hell was Dark Heaven? A kind of splinter faction that had broken away from the Demonic Cult? Or another organization created within the Demonic Cult itself?

A branch of Shincheonji called Sick Shincheonji. Something like that.

Whatever the case, they were definitely plague-like bastards.

I had been lost in thought for quite a while when Cheongpung appeared with a sweet smell trailing behind him and a light step in his walk.

“Hey!”

“…Your grandpa lives at Lotus Peak on Huashan, right?”

Cheongpung swallowed what was in his mouth before answering.

“No! He’s in Henan right now!”

“Oh, right.”

What the hell was I supposed to say to him?

Seeing the mountain of food piled in Cheongpung’s arms left me speechless. I almost felt sorry for the former imperial chef whose face I had never even seen.

“You went out for this?”

“Yes! And I also brought a letter from the Beggars’ Sect while I was at it.”

“…Wouldn’t that normally be the other way around?”

“Hehe.”

“Don’t smile. I’ll get attached.”

I answered gruffly and accepted the letter Cheongpung held out to me.

When I unfolded the grimy piece of paper, which had apparently been stored somewhere filthy, three yellow dog hairs slid out.

A three-knot Disciple. The branch leader sent this.

As I had expected, the letter had been sent by the Beggars’ Sect’s Chengdu branch leader and addressed to Gung Gibang.

Of course, Gung Gibang was at the Divine Physician’s hidden clinic, so the branch leader had sent it to me for convenience.

A moment later, after I had finished reading, Cheongpung asked, “What does it say?”

“Nothing special. They’re still searching.”

The Beggars’ Sect, which had initially combed through Sichuan with a fine-toothed comb to find the Divine Physician, had changed its objective.

Their new target was the culprit who had murdered the Poison King and the Heaven-Shaking Venerable Nun.

Well, it’s not like he’d be caught that easily.

Tang Sadok had said he would solve the matter using only the Sichuan Tang Clan’s strength, but his attitude had changed after lending me the Myriad-Poison Ring.

However, even with the Tang Clan’s active cooperation, the culprit’s trail had vanished like a ghost.

“Do you think they’ll find him?”

“Who knows? We can only hope for a good result. There’s the Beggars’ Sect, of course, and the Tang Clan’s Green Shadow Squad, experts in reconnaissance and pursuit. Surely they’ll find something.”

“What about the government troops?”

“The government troops seem to be doing their part too.”

The influence of Prince Shangshan, Zhu Bao, was tremendous.

Won Gyun, the City Lord of Sichuan Province, had readily accepted my request to find the culprit instead of the Divine Physician.

The individual fighting ability of the government troops was nothing compared to that of Murim warriors, but the sheer number of them—thousands—couldn’t be ignored.

“Wow! Thousands?”

“I don’t know the exact number either, but apparently they’re swarming all over the place. You saw the government troops too, didn’t you, Young Hero Cheong? On the way back to the Sichuan Tang Clan.”

“Oh, but there weren’t that many people when I saw them.”

“…Of course not. Do you think thousands of people would move around all at once?”

It wasn’t difficult to imagine the government troops gathered in groups of three or five according to their assigned formations, stopping and searching people.

The government troops are gradually expanding their search area and moving toward Qingcheng and Emei.

They appear to be searching for the culprit while also preparing for some kind of incident.

After reading the final line of the letter, I let out a short laugh.

They’re doing better than I expected.

Sichuan City Lord Heo Gyun looked exactly like a corrupt official, but it seemed he wasn’t completely incompetent. Either that, or the military official assigned to this mission was highly capable.

But what am I supposed to do if they still can’t find him after all this?

I was seriously worried, since I had made quite a show of talking big to Tang Sadok.

Of course, Jeok Cheongang’s safe recovery came first.

I glanced at the treatment room, whose door remained firmly closed, then casually asked Cheongpung, “What food did you bring?”

“Sho mush!”

“…Finish what’s in your mouth. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Jang Il was a two-knot Disciple of the Beggars’ Sect.

He had become a Beggars’ Sect disciple out of necessity rather than choice. He had heard that if he formally joined the Beggars’ Sect, completed the initiation ceremony, and became an official Disciple, he would receive one dumpling.

What would an eight-year-old beggar brat who had gone hungry for four days have known?

Clutching his starving stomach, he had gone to the Chengdu branch and become a Beggars’ Sect disciple that very day.

“They only gave me half a dumpling, too. Just thinking about it still makes my teeth grind. Goddamn it.”

The beggars listening to Jang Il yawned quietly. They had already heard the story dozens of times.

More than ten years had passed, but Jang Il’s anger had yet to fade.

“I became a vice branch leader after enduring hardship and dedicating myself to the memory of that half dumpling. So you all should…”

As his story showed signs of dragging on, the three one-knot Disciples exchanged glances at the same time.

“Oh! My stomach suddenly hurts!”

“Gasp, mine too!”

“Ugh, the latrine! Where’s the latrine?”

“You little bastards!”

Jang Il shouted, but the three beggars had already fled.

“Those damn brats… Just wait until they come back.”

That was when a group of people entered Jang Il’s field of vision.

Uniform clothing and weapons. Their lack of military discipline was an added bonus. The sight was familiar enough that Jang Il muttered,

“Government troops.”

These days, government troops were more common than neighborhood stray dogs.

They had never been noticeable when they were slacking off as usual, but now that the big shots had gotten involved, they seemed to be hurriedly making at least a show of doing their jobs.

They said they were expanding the search net. Have they already come this far?

As he thought this, a middle-aged military official who appeared to be leading the group approached him with a smile.

“Are you, by any chance, a Beggars’ Sect disciple?”

Jang Il nodded without much interest.

“As you can see.”

“I thought so from your knot.”

“Anyone can tell by looking. You’ve made good time, though. To have already come this far.”

“Ah, they say the Beggars’ Sect has the best intelligence network under heaven. I suppose you already knew about this?”

“Our Sect considers this fairly ordinary.”

The military official smiled along with Jang Il’s arrogant grin and asked, “But this place has no village and very few people. Why are you here alone?”

“Don’t ask. The branch leader kept nagging me, so I brought a few men out for some fresh air. Things have been pretty noisy lately with all this talk of a murderer and whatnot.”

“I see.”

“Well then, take care…”

Jang Il never finished speaking.

The military official nodded with a smile, and at that exact moment, something cold pierced into his chest.

Thunk!

…Huh?

Cough.

Jang Il stared blankly at the sword buried in his chest, then coughed up blood.

Why? How?

The questions never made it out of his mouth. His knees buckled as he looked at the military official through hazy eyes.

His face slammed into the new shoots just beginning to rise from the earth. A cold voice reached his ears.

“Find the others. They should be nearby.”

“As you command.”

“What a stupid beggar bastard. Why did he have to be here of all places…?”

That was the last thing Jang Il heard.

He was twenty-five years old.

The young beggar died in a secluded forest two days from Emei Sect.