The Yamwangsa rolled across the floor, wailing, his leg cleanly severed below the thigh.
“M-My leg...! How... how did my leg...?! Aaagh!”
The Yamwangsa within the grand hall froze in place.
It wasn’t just the gruesome sight of their comrade’s severed leg rolling across the floor, nor the echo of his pitiful screams that locked their bodies in place.
They hadn’t even properly seen Kwak Yeon draw his Cheonggang Sword. All they’d caught was a flash of white light, blinding and sharp.
Of course, they had no way of recognizing it as Chujeom Woryeong—“The Late Sword Surpasses Its Own Shadow”—the peak technique of a Wudang Sect successor at the Hwagyeong realm. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel⟡fire.net
But they understood one thing clearly: Kwak Yeon was a formidable master beyond their imagination.
The Yamwangsa, realizing the terrifying skill of their opponent, instinctively stepped back, cautious and hesitant.
And so, only Kwak Yeon and the legless Yamwangsa remained at the entrance of the grand hall.
Kwak Yeon spoke flatly, as if spitting the words out.
The Yamwangsa, frantically trying to bind his wound with scraps of cloth, raised his head.
“What... what are you saying? You—you’re the one who just cut off my leg!”
“Then I suppose I should sever the other one as well, to balance you out. That way, you can stand.”
“N-No need! I’ll stand up immediately!”
It was a grotesque scene, no other way to describe it.
A man missing a leg struggled to rise using only the remaining one—and promptly collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud.
“Difficult, isn’t it?”
As Kwak Yeon brought the Cheonggang Sword close to the man’s remaining leg, the Yamwangsa shrieked in terror.
“W-Why... why are you doing this?! I already threw away my sword!”
“How many barns did you demolish in Sangjeon Village yesterday?”
The Yamwangsa’s face contorted in shock.
“You... you came here over what happened in Sangjeon Village? That... that was... Chief Gong ordered me to do that—I had no choice!”
Kwak Yeon stabbed the Cheonggang Sword into the man’s remaining leg.
Flames flickered in Kwak Yeon’s eyes as he stared at the Yamwangsa. His hand, gripping the Cheonggang Sword, trembled.
He wanted to cut him down right then and there.
The pathetic excuse—that he “had no choice” but to commit such atrocities under the Yamwangsa’s orders—only stoked Kwak Yeon’s fury.
And then, from within his blood vessels, dark energy rippled and grew.
It was the demonic energy—Magi—manifesting from his rage. The faint darkness he thought had faded away now thickened, heavy and palpable.
It had never been this clear before. It was undoubtedly a side effect of the dark energy that had clung to his blood vessels—the same one that terrified So Cheong when she sensed it.
“The demon always grows ahead, sprouting atop the branches of the Dao, and will surely block your path. The five desires and seven emotions are the soil that nourishes the demon. Remember the teachings of the Immortal Way, and never cease cultivating.”
The repeated warnings of Daoist Master Hyeonhae rang in Kwak Yeon’s mind.
Calming himself, he silently recited the incantation of Sesim-gyeong.
The raging fury barely subsided.
Kwak Yeon pulled the Cheonggang Sword free and spoke.
“I avoided the tendons and arteries. With proper treatment, you might salvage that leg.”
Kwak Yeon turned his gaze toward the Yamwangsa gathered deeper within the grand hall.
Though they all held weapons, none dared step forward.
They knew now—this opponent was not only terrifyingly skilled, but ruthlessly merciless.
Kwak Yeon scanned them, his gaze finally halting on one particular Yamwangsa.
“You must be Jin Go-cheok, the Yamwangsa from Chil-yang County in Honam Province.”
The scar along Jin Go-cheok’s cheek twitched.
“I am Jin Go-cheok of Chil-yang County, yes... but I don’t know who you are.”
“You visited Wang Cheol-go’s home yesterday, didn’t you?”
Jin Go-cheok’s eyes widened in realization.
“You... you’re that fool’s brother?”
“How bold of you—to insult my brother right to my face.”
“Hah— I... I misspoke.”
“I am that man’s brother. And the one whose neck you pressed your filthy blade against? That’s my nephew.”
The other Yamwangsa began to sidle away from Jin Go-cheok, distancing themselves.
“W-Why... why are you all...?”
Jin Go-cheok couldn’t even finish his plea for them to join him in facing the opponent.
Because no one among them held any illusions of camaraderie. If they had, they wouldn’t be Yamwangsa to begin with.
The Yamwangsa were already busy calculating their escape routes—making sure they left with their share, of course.
Even Gong Yeom-gak, the Yamwangsa’s General Overseer and chief of the Jeongeum Branch, sensed the looming disaster and was hurriedly gathering up piles of promissory notes.
Realizing there was no way out, Jin Go-cheok raised his heavy blade high.
“Damn it... he’s alone anyway!”
Still hoping for a few allies to step up, he shouted with forced bravado.
The moment Jin Go-cheok called to his comrades, his eyes caught a faint flicker of movement, and he instinctively stumbled backward.
But his body betrayed him.
Both his legs were severed cleanly at the thighs, and his torso toppled backward like a felled tree.
Writhing, Jin Go-cheok tried to lift himself up, but Kwak Yeon stepped on his abdomen and declared.
“One leg for my nephew.”
Truthfully, Kwak Yeon wanted to behead him on the spot.
But that would be far too merciful. Letting him crawl on the ground for the rest of his life would be the proper revenge.
“This is for crushing the child’s marble.”
Pressing down with force, Kwak Yeon stomped on Jin Go-cheok’s lower abdomen.
With his danjeon crushed, Jin Go-cheok let out a shrill, grotesque scream.
Kwak Yeon bent down, picking up the large, crude black blade lying on the floor.
Holding the heavy blade, Kwak Yeon could vividly imagine the terror So Cheong must’ve felt.
The blade pierced the floor mere hairs away from Jin Go-cheok’s throat.
Trembling all over, Jin Go-cheok barely dared to breathe.
“You should understand why I’m letting you live. Crawl through the dirt for the rest of your miserable life. That’s how you’ll pay for your sins.”
Kwak Yeon turned toward the remaining Yamwangsa.
“You know why I’ve come. Now, you’ll repay what’s owed.”
Gong Yeom-gak, voice quivering, managed to speak.
“W-We’ll return all the money.”
“That goes without saying.”
“W-What more do you want?”
“I’ve shown you twice now, haven’t I?”
“Surely you don’t mean...?”
Gong Yeom-gak’s eyes bulged in horror.
“You plan to sever everyone’s legs?! You... you can’t...”
“You’ve been forcing people to create money out of nothing. Offering one leg in return isn’t so unreasonable, is it?”
Kwak Yeon’s voice was as resolute as steel, sending the Yamwangsa glancing nervously at one another.
In an instant, unspoken agreement filled the room—there was no escaping this intruder’s resolve.
Reading the shift in the room, Gong Yeom-gak snapped.
“Damn it! Lose our legs, and our lives are over!”
They couldn’t go around threatening people as Yamwangsa with crutches.
“Besides... he’s alone, isn’t he?”
It was a desperate hope—maybe in the chaos of battle, they could flee.
No matter how skilled he was, he couldn’t face all of them at once.
Roused by Gong Yeom-gak’s provocation, the Yamwangsa simultaneously raised their weapons.
“Swarm him—end it now!”
The Yamwangsa charged in unison.
Kwak Yeon raised the Cheonggang Sword, seeing them as nothing more than wild thorns.
Left unchecked, those thorns would grow rampant—tearing garments, cutting flesh.
But Kwak Yeon was a farmer now.
And he began cutting down the world’s thorns.
It didn’t even take half a breath.
Now, only Kwak Yeon and Gong Yeom-gak remained standing in the hall.
Severed legs littered the floor; the Yamwangsa groaned, clutching their bleeding stumps.
“...Great warrior, I was wrong...”
Gong Yeom-gak threw aside his weapon.
“I’ll... I’ll do anything you ask.”
Kwak Yeon already knew Gong Yeom-gak was the master of this Geumseong outpost and the Jeongeum Branch’s General Overseer.
“I have some questions.”
“Ask... whatever you wish.”
“I heard you delivered documents to the Chief of Cheongujang.”
Gong Yeom-gak now understood clearly who had sent this intruder.
‘The government inspectors!’
Comforting himself that the inspectors likely hadn’t escaped unscathed either, Gong Yeom-gak answered politely.
“Yes, it was all part of Cheongujang Chief Sang Gwan-jin-ho’s plan.”
“I don’t know the full details. I only heard it wasn’t just about seizing land from Sangjeon Village.”
Kwak Yeon’s gaze sharpened, and Gong Yeom-gak hurried to elaborate.
“It’s true! The Chief is a secretive man... but I do know this—he’s been preparing for years to carry something out at the seventy-year celebration for the Grand Scholar, with the Sangwan Family’s Head in attendance.”
Kwak Yeon recalled the middle-aged Sang Gwan-jin-ho, whom he briefly observed at the tavern.
Cautious demeanor, cunning eyes.
No ordinary man. Clearly scheming something significant.
Kwak Yeon felt momentarily frustrated.
He had reason to punish the Yamwangsa and the government inspectors—they were guilty of clear injustice.
But Sang Gwan-jin-ho? If he denied involvement, there was nothing Kwak Yeon could do. On paper, the contracts were legitimate.
Besides, Cheongujang was a direct branch of the Sangwan Family, one of the Ten Great Martial Clans.
In the case of Jeogal Family’s Waryong Outpost, there had been witnesses and evidence—punishment was simple.
But Sang Gwan-jin-ho? Meticulous to the end.
‘Then I’ll have to be meticulous too...’
After some thought, Kwak Yeon questioned Gong Yeom-gak again.
“You met the Chief in person yesterday?”
“Of course. Discreet business, after all...”
“Then you must’ve seen where he keeps those documents.”
“Is that secret worth more than your life?”
Gong Yeom-gak had been trying to use it as a bargaining chip but panicked at Kwak Yeon’s glare.
“No, no—it’s not. I’ll tell you. There’s a safe inside the Chief’s office. He always retrieves documents from there. Yesterday, he locked them away immediately after I handed them ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) over.”
“And where exactly is his office?”
Understanding the implication, Gong Yeom-gak unrolled a sheet of paper on the table and hastily scribbled a crude map.
“His office is in the Inner Courtyard, connected to his bedroom—he claims it’s for convenience, but truthfully, the man trusts no one.”
Having obtained all necessary information, Kwak Yeon nodded.
“Since you have the brush in hand, write a confession. You know what it should say.”
Of course, Gong Yeom-gak understood—he was to confess everything done until now.
After a short while, Gong Yeom-gak handed over the written confession.
Kwak Yeon glanced at the ledgers and bundles of promissory notes stacked on the table.
“Those are the Yamwangsa’s ill-gotten gains and the records?”
“Yes, of course. They’re yours to reclaim.”
“Then only one task remains.”
Gong Yeom-gak’s face drained of color.