Poison Forest
Not long after, Dakam came out of the hut, his face downcast.
"I'm so sorry. I never thought he would act like that. You came all the way here, but I don't know how to make amends."
Bi Sayeong let out a short laugh and replied,
"Well, I'll just count it as an amusing show. Still, judging by how lively the old man was, he doesn't look like he'll die anytime soon. That's something, at least."
I followed up,
"If you need help again, come find us at the Flying Dragon Thirteen. We'll help anytime. In return… well, this might be shameless, but if we need something, could we also come to you?"
Dakam's eyes brightened, and he nodded vigorously.
"Yes! Of course! I'll help you anytime!"
His guileless expression made me smile inwardly.
Just having left him with a sense of debt was enough to accomplish my goal in coming here.
To gain connections for finding antidotal herbs and for guidance into the deeper jungle—that had been my true purpose all along.
As for the old man's identity, it lingered in my thoughts, but with him being so adamant, there was nothing more to do.
Feeling lighter, I turned to the captain.
"Then let's head back, Captain. If we leave now, we'll have plenty of time."
But Captain Seolpung didn't answer.
He kept staring at the hut with an intent, thoughtful gaze.
"Captain?"
Then, suddenly, he began walking back toward the hut.
We looked at one another in surprise.
Standing in front of the hut, Captain Seolpung raised his voice.
"Elder, I believe there's some misunderstanding."
The angry voice inside roared back,
"Misunderstanding, my ass! I told you to get out! You damned bastards!"
But Seolpung paid no mind and continued.
"I may be from the Flying Dragon Squad, but I am not of the orthodox sects. I didn't come here to take anything from you. I came solely to help."
"Shut your mouth, boy! What nonsense is that?! Flying Dragon but not orthodox? That's like saying you're a dog but not a beast! Hah!"
The words were vicious, yet the captain showed no anger. He even smiled faintly before speaking again.
"Then how about a wager, elder? If I can prove I'm no orthodox man, will you let me examine your condition?"
"What?!"
"Good. Then I'll take that as consent."
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped inside.
Watching, Cheong Yeon Sojeo asked Bi Sayeong,
"Wasn't the captain from the orthodox sects?"
Bi Sayeong shrugged.
"I don't know either. He's never spoken of his school."
In truth, no one in the Thirteen likely knew his true origins.
At least, not yet.
My mind drifted to my past life—
to that day when the frontline had collapsed completely, and I had learned his true identity.
It had been nothing short of shocking.
The crimson glow of his eyes, the overwhelming might… it was unforgettable.
From within the hut came the old man's startled voice.
"Y-you… you bastard?! Why are you in the Flying Dragon Squad?!"
I had seen this scene in my past life too.
And back then, the captain had answered the same way—
that he had been running from himself, only to find precious things along the way.
Moments later, we were allowed back inside.
The captain was already holding the old man's wrist, taking his pulse.
But his face was grave.
Dakam and the children held their breath, watching nervously.
"Hmph! Didn't I tell you? This is not something you can fix! You're just wasting your time!"
The old man still grumbled with disapproval.
But I could sense his tone had softened compared to before—
and beneath it, a faint tinge of regret and concern.
When the diagnosis was done, the captain let out a long sigh.
"My apologies, elder. You were right. With my ability, there is nothing I can do."
Dakam and the children looked crushed. The old man scoffed.
"Of course! Even I, who spent a lifetime in medicine and martial cultivation, could do nothing. What hope do you have?"
The captain rose and turned to Dakam.
"I'm sorry, Dakam. I couldn't live up to your expectations."
"Ah… I-I…"
Dakam bowed his head, looking utterly dejected. The captain gave the old man a respectful bow and turned away.
"Come. Let's truly return now."
But then—
The old man smirked bitterly and asked,
"You're a strange one, both in identity and in nature. Will you really never tell them?"
The captain turned back, heavy expression on his face.
And the old man spoke again—
words that left us all in shock.
"That I am the Demon Lord of the Blood Sect."
The revelation was staggering.
Bi Sayeong's eyes went wide as he shouted,
"Wh-what?!"
His voice trembled with rage.
"You… you're the Demon Lord of the Blood Sect?!"
Captain Seolpung met his gaze solemnly.
To me, it was something I had already suspected.
His uncanny knowledge of demonic beasts, his loathing of the orthodox sects—
I had thought it highly likely he was a retired Demon Lord of the Blood Sect.
Judging by her expression, Cheong Yeon Sojeo had suspected it too.
But Dakam had said that this man had been working for years to protect the Miao people—
that he was their shield, their guardian.
So if he was not a cruel man, I had intended to turn a blind eye to his past.
But for Bi Sayeong—whose sect had been nearly annihilated by the Blood Sect—that was impossible.
"Captain, what is the meaning of this?! Is this man truly the Demon Lord of the Blood Sect?!"
Seolpung sighed and answered,
"I'm sorry, Sayeong. For the sake of Dakam and these children, I couldn't tell you."
Bi Sayeong's eyes blazed with betrayal. His hand went to his saber.
Chang!
"Demon Lord of the Blood Sect! Even if you are the captain, I cannot forgive you!"
Startled, Dakam and the children rushed to shield the old man with their bodies.
"N-no, don't! He didn't mean it! Please forgive him!"
"Don't kill him! Please spare him!"
The old man chuckled darkly, mocking Bi Sayeong.
"Yes, that's it! That's the orthodox way I know. No matter the children, you'll always cling to your creed of slaying demons above all else! Hahaha! Slaying demons! What a laughable phrase!"
"Silence, Demon Lord!"
Bi Sayeong raised his saber, ready to strike, but his hands shook violently as if caught in a storm.
The children clung to him, weeping.
"Please, elder brother! Please!"
"Don't kill Dokno, great hero!"
"He's our grandfather, please!"
Bi Sayeong's face twisted as he stared at the old man, who still sneered back.
Finally, Bi Sayeong roared,
"Demon Lord of the Blood Sect! And you dare mock the orthodox? What right do you have?!"
The old man's eyes blazed with fury.
"What right? Why not?! I have every right! You hypocrites! You took everything from me! I'll mock you and worse—I'll erase you from the world entirely! Come at me! Even in my state, crushing one like you will be nothing!"
"Fine! As you wish!"
"No! Please don't!"
"Spare him!"
Bi Sayeong's saber wavered, but in the end, he could not cut down the man the children clung to.
His expression twisted, shifting again and again, until finally he let his trembling hand drop.
Grinding his teeth, he spat out,
"I am Bi Sayeong, grand disciple of the Bijoong Sect. My sect has disciples as young as these children. Hiding behind them—how disgraceful. Truly fitting for the Demon Lord of the Blood Sect."
With a hollow expression, he sheathed his blade and turned his back.
"Today, I will erase this from my memory. I have never seen you, Demon Lord."
At that moment—
The old man looked shaken, and in a trembling voice, asked Bi Sayeong,
"Bijoong Sect…? Do you mean the Bijoong Sect of Guangxi Province?"
Still turned away, Bi Sayeong snorted.
"Hmph. You think there's another Bijoong Sect?"
The old man muttered softly,
"Blood Envoy of the Tomb of the Martial Sovereign…"
That statement dragged back the fury Bi Sayeong had been barely restraining.
"What?!"
He spun around, eyes blazing, and roared.
"You dare bring that up in front of me?!"
But the old man hadn't said it to provoke him.
He let out a long sigh, then, with only one working arm and leg, struggled down from the bed and knelt heavily before Bi Sayeong.
"My family, my everything—I lost them all to Jeomchang Sect and those so-called orthodox bastards. I have never once regretted my revenge. But… if you are truly the descendant of those who died unjustly in the Tomb of the Martial Sovereign Massacre, then you have the right to kill me."
"…What the hell are you babbling about?"
Bi Sayeong's eyes were filled with confusion.
The old man spoke calmly, confessing something none of us could have imagined.
"I was the one who, with Mu Gwang, planned the Tomb of the Martial Sovereign Massacre. I am the enemy who slew the elders of your sect."
Dudung!
It was as if a war drum thundered inside my skull.
What?!
He was saying he had planned the Tomb of the Martial Sovereign Massacre?
And the Mu Gwang he mentioned—surely that was Jeon Mu Gwang, the Blood Sect's leader, Sahyehyeolma?
Our jaws hung open in shock.
Bi Sayeong stammered, trembling.
"What—what nonsense is this?! You?! You planned the Tomb of the Martial Sovereign Massacre?! That's impossible! If that's true, why the hell are you here now?!"
The old man replied evenly.
"My circumstances don't matter. I don't ask for your understanding. Only… my apology. So kill me, and ease your vengeance."
Bi Sayeong screamed, voice raw.
"Shut up! Don't decide that for me! Whether I forgive or not is for me to choose! You'll tell me everything! What happened—spit it out!"
Faced with his outcry, the old man fixed him with a heavy gaze, then slowly began to speak.
His name, he said, was Seok Gyeongdal—once the Chief Steward of the Jeon Clan, an orthodox family of Yunnan.
He had also been a close friend of the Jeon Clan's head at the time—Jeon Mu Gwang.
The Jeon Clan still held remnants of the Flash Sword Art, the secret technique of Jeon Pyoseung, one of the Ten Great Swordsmen a century earlier. Restoring the art had been their long-cherished dream.
Working together for years, Jeon Mu Gwang and Seok Gyeongdal had sought to revive it. Then, one day, they discovered a hidden chamber of their ancestors—
and within it, the long-lost Flash Sword Art.
It was a cause for great celebration. The entire clan rejoiced.
But they did not know… it would be the seed of disaster.
The chamber lay in land belonging to the Ma Clan.
The Ma Clan's lord, Ma Yongcheok, claimed that since it was found within his territory, the sword art rightfully belonged to the Ma Clan.
It was absurd.
By that logic, if an ancestor's grave were found there, would that ancestor become a Ma as well?
Jeon Mu Gwang dismissed the claim.
So Ma Yongcheok appealed to Jeomchang Sect, the greatest power of Yunnan, to arbitrate.
Still, Jeon Mu Gwang was confident. The orthodox way demanded that a found martial art be returned to its original sect. Surely Jeomchang Sect would side with him.
What he didn't know was that Ma Yongcheok's son, Ma Wonung, was the head disciple of Jeomchang's sect leader.
In the end, Jeomchang ruled in Ma Clan's favor.
They pressured Jeon Mu Gwang to hand over the sword art.
It was outrageous.
As Chief Steward, Seok Gyeongdal proposed sneaking to the Martial Alliance to seek mediation.
With no other choice, Jeon Mu Gwang wept as he sent him off.
Seok Gyeongdal rushed with all his might to the Martial Alliance—
but no one would hear him.
Whether Jeomchang had already moved, or something else, even the Alliance Leader, famed as the foremost hero under heaven, refused to see him. So did the elders.
He was silenced completely.
And while he paced in despair, news arrived.
The Jeon Clan had been attacked.
He rushed back to find only ruins.
Jeon Mu Gwang still lived, but the rest of the household was annihilated.
Seok Gyeongdal's own family was gone as well.
Weeping blood, he swore vengeance—only for Jeon Mu Gwang to shake his head.
They had taken his young daughter, he said. If he resisted, they warned, he would never see her again.
And so, as they wandered, seeking a path for revenge, they encountered remnants of the Blood Sect.
Though once sworn enemies of the orthodox, to them they were now the only means left to strike back.
We listened in silence, unable to speak.
For martial artists, avenging one's kin is a law above laws.
How could we condemn men who had lost their clans and families?
With a heavy sigh, I muttered,
"So that's why you planned the Tomb of the Martial Sovereign Massacre. You aimed at Jeomchang Sect from the start. You knew they would never resist meddling in Yunnan's affairs."
The old man gave a bitter laugh and nodded.
"Exactly. And they acted just as we expected. I never once regretted it. But…"
His gaze grew weighty as he looked at Bi Sayeong.
"…I did not foresee that they would drive every martial artist into the tomb and slaughter them all. Even the weak and helpless who posed no threat. But excuses mean nothing. What matters is that my vengeance only created others like me. So yes—you have the right to condemn me. And the right to kill me. Do it. Kill me, just as I once sacrificed your elders to avenge my own."
As he spoke with grim calm, Dakam and the children clung to him.
"Dokno!"
"Grandfather, no!"
But the old man didn't move, like stone.
He only gazed at Bi Sayeong.
Bi Sayeong, his eyes hollow, stared into space for a long while, then suddenly asked,
"Then why is someone so great rotting away here? Were you betrayed?"
"…I walked away. My only goal was vengeance. But Mu Gwang… he began to dream of something else. I could neither support nor oppose it. So I left."
Bi Sayeong let out a sharp laugh.
"So now you're here, tending Miao children? What—atonement?"
The old man shook his head faintly, smiling weakly.
"How could tending a few children atone for the countless lives I took? No… they just… weighed on my heart."
Bi Sayeong chuckled bitterly.
"'Weighed on your heart'? Hah… hahaha…"
Then he exploded.
"You bastard! Do you know how I lived because of you?! How my fellow disciples live even now?! My masters took in an orphan like me, but our sect was ruined! I couldn't leave! I was a waiter, a servant—I did every filthy job! And when there was no food, I begged in the streets! Begged, so my juniors wouldn't starve! Even now, they live like that! And you say they just weighed on your heart?! Just weighed on you?! Why?! If you were the Demon Lord of the Blood Sect, you should've lived as one to the end! Why disgrace yourself like this?! Why live like this?!"
Tears streamed down Bi Sayeong's face as he screamed.
The old man only lowered his head, eyes shut tight.
For a long while, Bi Sayeong wept into the void. Then suddenly he laughed again, hollow.
"You know what's funniest of all? When I met Joo Taegyeong—yeah, that pompous disciple of Jeomchang Sect—I told him I was from Bijoong Sect. And you know what? He didn't even know what it was. So I told him the story of the Tomb of the Martial Sovereign. I didn't ask for much—just a look of regret. But that bastard mocked my master, then tried to kill me. And now? I meet the Demon Lord of the Blood Sect, and just hearing 'Bijoong Sect' makes him kneel, begging for death to atone. What the hell is this? Isn't this too much? Isn't it?!"
No one could speak.
No one could say anything.