Chapter 98

The members of the Martial Arts Alliance gathered in one place, the main gate locked shut, and gazed up at the platform.

They had neither the leisure to enjoy the festival nor the inherent flair for such things, yet each filled their cup at the command of Chief Yoo Jeong-hong. When every cup, high and low, was filled, Chief Yoo Jeong-hong rose and looked at his members.

“I called you all to share three cups of wine.”

Leader Yu Jeong-hong held a small bottle of liquor in his hand. Raising it, he declared:

“The first cup is offered to the Master.”

The members raised their cups and shouted.

“We drink this wine with our senior apprentice!”

Yoo Jeong-hong gazed up at the sky, then brought the bottle to his lips and gulped down a mouthful. The members of the secret society drank alongside their leader. As each began drinking, their heads tilting back looked like waves crashing.

Yoo Jeong-hong reminisced about the apprentice.

He was the sword of the Namgung Clan and the king of swords. He led the Namgung Clan into battle at the Great Battle of O-Ryeong, slaying countless demonic cultivators. On the day he died, he slew five demonic swordsmen possessing bodies impervious to blades before taking his own life. Though suicide is a disgrace to a warrior, he chose this path because the demonic cultivators had mastered demonic arts that absorbed his internal energy. Our paths diverged, our thoughts differed, our natures were distinct, and our ambitions were separate. Yet had I been present where the Master fought, my choice would have mirrored his. Where is the man without blemish in life? Only this we share: we lived aspiring to be heroes. The Master died a hero. Will the Mighty Warriors join in avenging the Master?”

The members all answered in unison.

“We will avenge him.”

Yoo Jeong-hong raised his wine bottle again and said.

“This second cup is dedicated to the missing persons whose fates remain unknown—Kwon Wang, Murong Choo, Won Heo Jin-in, Bi Young Dae-ju Lee Se-kwang, Bi Young Bu-dae-ju Byeok Ji-han—whose deaths have still not been clearly confirmed, and to the Wudang and Huashan factions, who have endured lives little different from wall-facing meditation for twenty years now, having lost the most disciples.”

Yu Zhenghong looked at Dan Wuxing.

Dan Woo-seong also raised his cup to the Alliance Leader.

Yu Jeong-hong continued.

“Now each department shall add the missing to the casualty list and redeploy personnel to locate the enemy’s stronghold. The apprentice’s vengeance and theirs shall be fulfilled together. Drink.”

The Myeongwon and the Myeongju drank again.

Yu Jeong-hong wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then glanced around at the members for a moment.

I pondered how to introduce you, but no fitting words came to mind. Let the third cup be one we offer to Senior Samshin. Today, Senior Gwangshin, a member of Samshin, is present here. My decision to share wine with you all stems partly from Senior Gwangshin’s visit to the Martial Alliance. Senior…

As Yoo Jeong-hong looked toward the seat of honor, Gwang-shin rose from his place.

The room fell silent in an instant.

Not because he was a senior worthy of cheers.

And the introduction was too abrupt. It was the appearance of the Three Sages, the pinnacle of the righteous path, spoken of only in legend, regarded as the legend of the previous generation.

Cheolmyeong-ho, who had been watching from where the guests were gathered, suddenly stiffened.

‘What the hell, Kwang-shin?’

Cheol Myeong-ho grabbed Dan Woo-seong’s arm and stared at him.

“God?”

When he sent a look that said, Why didn’t you tell me?, Dan Woosung brought a finger to his lips as if to shush him.

Kwang-shin approached the area near where Yoo Jeong-hong stood and surveyed the members of the Myeongwon.

“Junior brothers…”

The moment Gwang-shin finished speaking, all the martial arts alliance members assumed a fist salute and shouted in unison.

“We greet Gwang-shin!”

Kwang-shin nodded several times before speaking briefly.

“Yes.”

As silence fell once more, Gwangshin spoke.

“I hear there are juniors here born the year the Great Battle of Oryeong took place. Who are they? Let me see their faces.”

Gwang-shin blinked his eyes and looked around, and Maeng-won raised his hand here and there.

To Gwangshin, they still looked like children, baby-faced young Myeongwon. Gwangshin looked at each of the young juniors scattered among them and said.

“You’ve grown well. It seems the reason we fought was for you. You are proof that those who fought alongside me did not die in vain. Younger brothers, it is also my good fortune that I, who fought in the Battle of Oryeong, can share a drink with you, born in the very year that battle took place.”

Kwang-shin held out his hand, and Yoo Jeong-hong handed him the bottle.

Holding the bottle, Gwang-shin declared.

“Take Gwang-sin’s drink. Drink up, juniors.”

Gwang-shin watched the martial arts alliance members drinking, smiling faintly. He then raised the bottle in his hand to his mouth and poured the liquor.

Yoo Jeong-hong’s request didn’t exactly sit well with me, but sharing drinks with those junior members who were so far below me in seniority didn’t feel so bad after all.

But today’s excitement belonged entirely to the new recruits and juniors.

When the living legend appeared and shared drinks with them, each was already thoroughly drunk after just three cups.

Kwang-shin let out a voice filled with inner strength as he returned to his seat.

“Junior members…”

“Yes, senior.”

“Find it. Before the old ones depart for the heavens first.”

It was a brief conversation, yet it was sufficient.

Danwooseong, who had been watching, silently raised his cup once toward the sky.

‘Jin-eon, drink with us too.’

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“Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh he

Cheol Myeong-ho laughed as if he couldn’t believe his ears, while Dan Woo-seong silently shook his head. On the way back to the lodgings, Cheol Myeong-ho kept repeating the crazy chant like a madman, glancing at the nearby Martial Arts Alliance members.

“Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh he

Dan Woosung cut Cheol Myeong-ho off.

“That’s enough.”

Cheol Myeong-ho pointed at Dan Woo-sung and Baek Yak in turn as he spoke.

“So that’s why you were so sparing with your words. I understand. Though I may be out of touch with the martial world, I know well that the epithet ‘God’ isn’t given lightly.”

Cheolmyeongho raised a single finger.

“So this is what our elder brother was talking about. Heh heh heh heh heh! In that case, my spear technique must be renowned in the martial world too.”

Cheolmyeongho gave a thumbs-up.

“Meaning this is it. What a mind-blowing coincidence, a truly astonishing coincidence. This errand was well worth it. I always wondered why you liked that jerky so much.”

Cheolmyeong-ho grabbed the bottle of liquor that Maengwon had handed him and opened his mouth wide to pour it in.

Baekyak retorted.

“It means the Horichang liquor is excellent, not that Master Cheol is excellent.”

Cheol Myeong-ho wiped his mouth with his sleeve and pointed at Baek Yak several times.

“Ah, well said. I like that kind of frankness. It’s refreshingly cold-hearted. Not that I mean I like it. I mean I like Miss Baek’s character.”

“I know.”

At that moment, a member of the Martial Arts Alliance approached and addressed Dan Wuseong and Baekyak.

“The past champions of the Dragon Phoenix Grand Tournament wish to gather briefly. Would you two be available?”

After Danwooseong and Baekyak disappeared with Maengwon, Cheolmyeongho was left alone, looking around.

He had nothing to do.

After sighing briefly, Cheol Myeong-ho glanced at the podium before heading back to his lodgings, swinging his black iron umbrella.

Being a man without any real fame, he had little to do even after joining the Martial Arts Alliance.

“Heh heh heh heh heh… Fanatic, indeed.”

Whoosh!

The Martial Alliance members startled and stepped aside as Cheol Myeong-ho moved, unleashing the Three Calamities Sword Technique. Cheol Myeong-ho spoke as if apologizing.

“Excuse me.”

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Cheonma gazed at the memorial tablets arranged on the altar and found his father’s tablet.

Wei Zhenghe.

Only his three-character name was inscribed.

Typically, memorial tablets also record the deceased’s nickname or date of death, but these tablets bore none of that.

Looking at the memorial tablet, he felt nothing. He only sensed that it bore the name of the deceased.

Cheonma stood with his hands behind his back, showing no respect.

His thoughts on the deeds of this Ten Thousand Horses Palace remained unchanged, then as now.

After briefly gazing at the names of the dead without even burning incense, I stepped out of the shrine to find familiar faces calling out to the celestial horse before it.

“Master Wei, it’s been a long time.”

“What a rude fellow, leaving without even burning incense at the spirit tablet.”

Three figures stood gazing at the celestial horse, Wei Jitian. If one must describe them, they were disciples who had studied under the Grand Master of the Ten Thousand Horses Pavilion.

Blood Lord, Overlord, Illusion Demon.

The Celestial Demon greeted them with a few brief words.

“Fellow disciples, come in.”

Blood Lord was the descendant of the Blood God, clad in a crimson robe. The Overlord was a man with a body so enormous it seemed grotesque. The Demon King wore a bizarre outfit that made him appear shrouded in black cloth, only his eyes visible as he silently stared at the Heavenly Demon.

To the Heavenly Demon’s eyes, they appeared precisely like this.

Of course, these nicknames, like Heavenly Demon or Black Demon, were bestowed by the masters of the Ten Thousand Demons’ Prison, so they carried a certain authority. Though their ages varied, their ranks were similar enough that they addressed each other informally.

The Overlord spoke, arms crossed.

“After all that fuss, the Sword Demon came back blind as a bat. And you look like a rat with nowhere to go. Wei Zhichuan, I don’t understand why the Palace Lord keeps taking you in.”

Cheonma plopped down in front of the shrine, staring blankly at the three before lying down sideways and speaking.

“You fellow disciples of the Ten Thousand Demons Pavilion, keep up the noise.”

Blood Lord spoke.

“Wei, you know what the three of us are thinking.”

Cheonma pointed at the three with one hand and said.

“You must want to kill me. All three of you grew up getting beaten by the Sword Demon back when you didn’t even have names. Old memories are flooding back. So now you’re getting cocky with your martial arts skills? Acting on your own without the Palace Lord’s orders. Your head’s gotten a bit bigger, hasn’t it?”

Hwanma spoke awkwardly in a stiff, halting tone.

“Cheonma, it’s been a while. I want to settle who’s superior.”

Cheonma clicked his tongue.

“You stammering fool, what are you talking about superiority? Didn’t the Grand Master already decide that? Look at the spirit tablets in the shrine. I don’t know what lies the Palace Lord told you, but my father certainly wasn’t Wei Zhengxue. Huanma, you might be Wei Zhengxue’s son.”

Hwanma retorted curtly.

“No way.”

“Pawang, you might be a half-brother to the Sword Demon. Our Grandmaster judged our martial achievements and bestowed each of us with a unique title. Have you ever seen your father? At the Ten Thousand Demons Palace. From before you had any memory, you were called by numbers, not names. Then one day, summoned before the Palace Master, you grew up hearing that nonsense—that your ancestors were Blood Gods or Heavenly Demons. And yet you still act like an idiot. Where is the bloodline of the Demon Path? Where is your father? If you’ve gained martial arts, try thinking of something a little more interesting.”

The Heavenly Demon looked at the Blood Lord.

“Your great-grandfather was a Blood God? What’s that supposed to mean? Whether he was a Blood God or not, you’re still a puppet of the Ten Thousand Horses Palace. Do you really think someone like a Blood God would take orders from anyone like you?”

Cheonma raised one hand to grasp the air, and the spirit tablet of Wi Jeong-hak flew into his palm.

Cheonma snapped the tablet in half and flung it before the three men.

“If you’re going to be a demon, live like one. If you want to burn incense and pray for the souls of your fathers you never even saw, you’d be better off shaving your head clean and entering a temple.”

The Overlord laughed as he spoke.

“I never cared about that sort of thing to begin with. I just want to smash your self-important head.”

As the Overlord spoke as if warning of an attack, the Celestial Horse retorted, pointing a finger.

“Ah, just one more thing. Come to think of it, there’s a vacant seat under me right now. Anyone interested? None? Friends who studied together are always welcome. That’s what having friends is for. This is exactly when you use that phrase.”

The Overlord’s monstrously powerful body, worthy of being called a ‘monster of strength and chaos,’ moved with astonishing speed, stomping down on the spot where the Celestial Horse lay.

Squish…

The stairs shattered.

The celestial horse that had been lying down was now brushing the dust off its robe a short distance away.

“Hmm, it seems our Overlord lacks the qualifications to become a Left Minister.”

Hwanma warned the two.

“Within the Palace of Ten Thousand Demons, killing is forbidden. Only the superior and inferior shall be distinguished.”

Cheonma approached the Overlord, who towered over him by a full head, and spoke.

“Such rules hold no place in my heart.”

ⓒ Yoo Jin-seong