Danmok Clan Head Danmok Jong could not bring himself to lower the hem of his trousers.
There was a reason his uncle had finally revealed the secret he’d buried deep in his chest all his life—a secret concerning his father—to him, the current head of the clan.
And so, he could clearly understand the meaning behind his uncle’s final words.
If he rejected this act of discipline now, his uncle would cast off all lingering regrets and leave the Danmok Clan for good.
What other way was there to avoid watching the Danmok Clan crumble?
“Jong-ah, follow your uncle as you would follow your father. No—follow him even more closely than you would this father. Promise me that you will.”
Only now did he understand why his father had spoken those words on his deathbed as his final will.
Clan Head Danmok Jong, his eyes reddened, bit down hard on his lower lip and spoke.
“Uncle, I don’t think this switch will be enough.”
Military Advisor of War Dragon Hall, Jegal Seung-su, shivered as he looked up at the mountain spirit shrine with a red lantern hanging at its entrance.
It was the answer he had been waiting for.
For the past few days, without fail, they had come at the hour of the rat.
Even today, he had been conflicted, wondering if he should give up should the red lantern not appear.
So he should have been relieved to see that lantern—but instead, he was afraid.
Was it truly necessary to extend the offer to them? But he had no other choice.
As a military advisor, the death of the Hall Master he served was a sin that could never be washed away.
“Advisor, no matter what, you must ensure they take the commission.”
There was no way to escape the wrath of the Elder Council Head other than by completing this mission.
Jegal Seung-su steadied his trembling body and opened the shrine’s door.
The shrine’s decrepit doors let out a screech like a bird in pain.
There wasn’t a hint of human presence inside—it was desolate. But he knew they were watching him.
“Thank you for accepting the commission.”
A ripple disturbed the darkness.
“A proposal of one thousand nyang in gold—how could we not be intrigued?”
Another shadow stirred.
“More than anything, it’s impressive you even had the nerve to approach us.”
From yet another shadow, a cold, clear woman’s voice rang out.
“Brothers, he’s a guest who’s come all this way—shouldn’t we be a bit more welcoming?”
At her words, the darkness near the shrine’s altar thickened.
“Sister, he came knowing exactly who we are. No need to coddle him, right, friend?”
Having heard all four voices, Jegal Seung-su held back his fear and replied.
“I have unavoidable reasons—I cannot reveal my identity.”
“Of course. Anyone who comes to us must have their reasons. But don’t you think it’s a little unfair? You know us, but we don’t know you.”
Jegal Seung-su looked toward the altar where the voices came from and said,
“I don’t know your exact identities either. I was sent here on orders from someone above.”
“Is that so? Then why were you trembling outside for so long?”
“I wonder—would you still refuse to name yourself even as we flay you alive?”
Jegal Seung-su had already steeled himself for such threats. He spoke calmly.
“If you intend to reject the commission, so be it.”
“Hmph. You’ve got some backbone. As expected from the military advisor of the War Dragon Hall of the Jegal Clan.”
Jegal Seung-su tightly shut his eyes.
‘They know who I am.’
He realized now why they’d kept him waiting for days before accepting the commission.
‘There weren’t any strange movements around me... I was careful. How did they find out who I was?’
He hadn’t brought anything that could expose his identity—not even an identity tablet.
At the very least, this proved their capabilities.
“Officially, we are strangers. The Jegal Main House must not be aware of this.”
“Of course. If word got out we’d accepted a commission from the Unorthodox Path, we’d lose face too.”
“Now, tell us what the commission is.”
“I want you to eliminate one person.”
From within the flickering shadows, a chilling voice replied.
“You mean the Cave Daoist of Mount Wudang?”
Jegal Seung-su could tell that, having uncovered his identity, they’d already guessed his objective. He nodded without resistance.
“The mighty Jegal Clan is outsourcing a mere Cave Daoist to us? Hard to believe.”
“Again, I must repeat—the Jegal Main House cannot be involved. That’s why we’re turning to you. And... the target has reached the Flower Realm.”
“So it’s true then—the Cave Daoist is at the Flower Realm level.”
“Ohoho, brothers, in that case, we’ll need to renegotiate our terms.”
The shadow on the right side of the shrine pulsed.
“Indeed. We can’t do business at a loss. One thousand nyang for a Flower Realm expert? Absurd.”
“Especially since it’s a commission from the Jegal Clan—no way we’re doing it cheap. Don’t you agree?”
Jegal Seung-su had already expected them to raise the price once they knew who he was.
“How much do you want?”
The shadow before the altar stirred again.
“Ten thousand nyang is too much.”
“That price includes the cost of your life. Still think it’s too much?”
“One thousand up front. The remaining nine thousand after the job is done. That’s fair.”
The shadow on the right flared again.
“Listen here. When we make a decision, it becomes law. You came in knowing that, didn’t you? The moment you stepped inside, your choices narrowed to just two.”
Jegal Seung-su understood well. From the moment he faced them, there were only two outcomes—commission the job, or die.
“Now make your choice. Will you hand us the commission—or your life?”
Jegal Seung-su gave a slow, obedient nod.
The darkness atop the altar swirled again.
“Then go back and tell the old man. Tell him to start scraping together nine thousand nyang in gold. Avenging his son’s death deserves at least that much effort, don’t you think?” Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novel⚑fire.net
“And tell the old man not to try anything clever. He knows we could take the head of the Murim Alliance Leader if we so wished.”
“I will deliver the message.”
With that, Jegal Seung-su realized that through this choice, both he and the Elder Council Head had willingly placed shackles around their own necks.
‘But there was no other way.’
Hiring these people came with the risk of chains—but it was also the most certain method.
Kwak Yeon stood at the prow of the Pyoun Boat, watching the currents part beneath it as it sailed southward across Lake Dongjeong.
The boat was crowded with passengers, noisy and bustling in every direction. Perhaps because of the strong river wind, the prow was the only place that offered some quiet.
Kwak Yeon was planning to pass through Zhangsha, the provincial capital of Hunan, and cross Jiangxi Province by the shortest route to reach Mount Wuyi.
He already knew that Daoist Hyeon-hae had been quietly /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ worrying over the long absence of word from Daoist Hyeon-in.
That was why, from the beginning, he had planned to head to Mount Wuyi after Aknyang Pavilion.
“Daoist Hyeon-hae said there’s no need to rush, but... since I’m already heading south, I may as well catch a glimpse of the real ocean too.”
It didn’t seem like a bad idea to scout out the sea in advance—the same one Daoist Cheong-mu had once said they should go see together someday.
“It’s a relief that everyone’s doing well. But I wonder if Jangsan and the masters made it safely back to Mount Wudang.”
Since Hubei Province was practically Wudang’s home territory, there should be no need for concern.
As he gazed at the white spray that splashed up where the keel of the Pyoun Boat split the river, Kwak Yeon suddenly recalled Jeong I-chu.
He had been a sociable and easygoing friend—there’d been no awkwardness from their very first meeting.
"I'm I-chu—Jeong I-chu. People say I’m too noisy, but what can I do? That’s just who I am.”
He had avenged him with everything he had, but all he felt now was an emptiness in his heart.
“I-chu... are you at peace now?”
How could one possibly know whether the dead found peace?
Revenge, perhaps, was more for the sake of the one who carried it out. That might be why so many people became consumed by it.
He hadn’t been able to unleash killing techniques on the rank-and-file members of Heukcheonbang.
He knew that when Master Hyunam had said those who must be slain, he had meant the ringleaders. So he had only punished the underlings to the point where they could never wield martial arts again.
In any case, he had done everything he could for Jeong I-chu. Just as Master Hyunam had said—he would remember him.
“Until the day I meet the true mastermind behind the Cult of the Evil Way.”
To push aside the lingering hollowness in his chest, Kwak Yeon thought back on the body movement technique he had used in Heukcheonbang.
The Ascending Crane Soars to the Heavens (Ilhak Chungcheon) movement art.
He had shot three jang into the air from a standing posture, evading the enclosed formation of the Cult’s special strike unit with ease.
It was the hard-earned result of long training in his previously lacking footwork techniques. Such astonishing progress had been possible only because his spiritual reverence had deepened even further.
The Primordial Harmonious Art (Honwon Musanggong) accumulated layer upon layer of spiritual reverence, triggered by emotional stimuli.
Since the moment that white radiance had swept through his body, he could feel thin layers of jinqi accumulating at each acupuncture point.
It was like folding and tempering a steel blade.
If true-origin jinqi was the forge of internal energy, then the Primordial Harmonious Art felt like a forge for the mind.
Kwak Yeon gave a wry smile.
“I suppose I now possess two forges.”
And neither of those forges was something he had ever asked for.
“Is that what they call a fateful encounter?”
When he had once said he was lucky to have stumbled into such an opportunity, Seokjangsan had shaken his head.
"You can’t seize an opportunity unless you’re ready. So the Wudang True Scripture reaching your hands—that wasn’t fate, it was inevitability."
He had yet to find even a hint of the path to the Realm of Infinity (Mugeukgyeong), but if he kept building his internal jinqi and spiritual reverence, layer by layer with those two forges, he would reach it someday.
With his mind settled, memories of the connections he’d made since leaving Mount Wudang came flooding back.
Some were good, others had turned into bitter ties.
The Cult of the Evil Way was an overt enemy. The Jegal Clan, another foe, was still moving behind the scenes for now.
He thought of the Danmok Clan, too.
Though it didn’t match the Five Great Clans, it was a prestigious martial household included among the Ten Great Martial Families of the jianghu.
Most vivid in his memory was the elder master who had stood in his way—Danmok Seong.
He hadn’t believed he would lose—but it certainly hadn’t been an easy match either.
Drawing a line across the ground and raising a wall of jinqi—that technique had been a martial art unlike anything he had imagined.
“How was that even possible?”
Creating a temporary wall of jinqi was plausible—he could manage that by using the energy functionality of Sword Guided by Qi (Igi Yugeom).
But maintaining it for that long was a different matter entirely.
He was coming to appreciate just how many martial arts existed in the jianghu, and how many of them were utterly strange.
He wondered how incredible it would be to learn directly from a senior master like Danmok Seong.
“What a presumptuous thought.”
No family ever passed down their martial arts to outsiders. Especially not one with whom he now had a grudge.
He had to be content with merely witnessing that martial art. Now that he knew of its existence, he would be driven to seek understanding of it.
As Kwak Yeon sat lost in deep thought, a marble rolled to a stop by his feet.