Mukrang
The Cheongseong Sect and the Tang Clan agreed to first wipe out Zhenghyupbang completely, and only afterward revisit the matter of dividing its spoils.
It was thanks to Hwa Yeongbin, who could no longer watch and stepped in to mediate between the two sides.
I used sound transmission to inform Hwa Yeongbin that Bi Sa-yeong had successfully rescued the captured women and told him their current location, then withdrew to a corner.
I judged it unwise to make my presence too obvious here.
But the situation was strange.
I had thought I should at least be hiding with stealth, but in truth there was no need.
No one paid me the slightest attention.
Even Hwa Yeongbin and his disciple Yi Geon, who knew my face, were too busy mediating among the leadership to notice me.
Countless people bustled about, dousing the fires in the buildings and rounding up Zhenghyupbang's remnants, but not one of them spared me a glance or a word.
It felt… odd.
As if I had become invisible.
I couldn't tell whether to feel offended at being ignored, or relieved to be left alone.
That was when, among the throng, someone finally spoke to me.
"Hey! You there!"
The tone was so casually disrespectful that I didn't realize at first they were addressing me.
So I just looked up, and saw a few young martial artists staring at me.
When I met their gaze blankly, the one at the front strode toward me angrily and shouted:
"Are you deaf, bastard?! Didn't you hear me call you?!"
His manner was so coarse it was almost laughable.
I looked at him in disbelief, and he came closer, demanding:
"You don't look like a disciple of Cheongseong Sect. Which sect do you belong to?!"
I swept my eyes over him and the men behind him.
About seven or eight young martial artists.
They had come together with the Tang Clan's warriors, but since their clothing wasn't green, they clearly weren't Tang Clan disciples. Likely another Sichuan faction allied with them.
And from the look of things, the one barking at me was just a lackey—the true leader was the arrogant-looking man in the middle with his arms crossed.
So I answered calmly:
"I don't belong to any sect in particular."
The lackey smirked as though he had expected this.
"Ha! Just as I thought—some wandering vagabond."
I didn't bother to correct him. I was curious what game he was playing.
Taking my silence as confirmation, he puffed up with arrogance.
"I am No Ji-wang, disciple of Sichuan's esteemed Hongsa Sword Sect! And that young master behind me is none other than the sect master's heir, Hongsa Sword Dragon On Je-ung. Soon to be granted the Tang surname itself!"
Hongsa Sword Sect? Hongsa Sword Dragon?
He must have assumed I would be impressed. But I had never heard of them.
Still, if he bore the title "Sword Dragon," he was probably a promising genius who had reached the transcendent stage at a young age.
And if he was to receive the Tang surname, he was either adopted as a son or chosen as a son-in-law.
But whatever the case, I only looked at them as if to say, And so what?
The lackey then pointed to my sword, Mukrang, and declared:
"Our young master has taken an interest in your blade. He says it's far too fine a weapon for a vagabond like you. So sell it to him. He will pay generously—more than you could ever hope to earn in your worthless life."
I had been listening in silence out of curiosity. But this… this left my mouth hanging open.
Even if they were orthodox sects allied with the Tang Clan, to outright threaten a warrior to hand over his sword—this was beyond absurd.
I gave a hollow laugh and asked:
"Are you telling me to hand over my sword?"
He grinned proudly and nodded.
"That's right! You should be honored our young master has taken interest!"
I was speechless at such a mindset.
That even outside the Blood Cult, there existed people this outrageous. Truly, the world was wide.
So I smiled and asked him:
"Do you at least understand that to a warrior, his weapon is his very life?"
He sneered.
"Ha! That only applies to true warriors—not vagabonds like yo—urk!"
Kwak!
I grabbed his throat and easily lifted him off the ground, then glared at On Je-ung and his group in the distance as I spoke with a savage smile.
"Well, if you know it, then you won't find this unfair. You tried to take another man's life—so even if you die, you've nothing to complain about. Isn't that so?"
"Grrk! Kkrrk!"
As he choked, On Je-ung and his companions, who had been watching, stiffened and started to approach.
But then someone else reached me first.
"What is going on here, Brother Seonu?"
It was the Crimson Sunset Sword, Hwa Yeongbin.
I gave him a wry smile.
"Ah, Sir Hwa. This fellow threatened to make me sell my sword. He said he was from some Hongsa Sword Sect…."
Hwa Yeongbin looked at the youth with incredulity.
"He told you to sell your sword? To you, Brother Seonu?"
Then he shook his head in disgust.
"For someone barely at the first-class stage to speak that way to the man who crossed blades with Demon Lord Sa Won-yang… astonishing. A fool so blind deserves death."
At his words, the youth's already reddened face turned pale with terror.
Only now did he realize the danger.
I smiled brightly at him and said:
"Yes. That's why I plan to kill him."
Tears welled instantly in his eyes.
"P-please! Sp-spare… me! I-I'm sorry!"
I glanced at On Je-ung and his group.
They had already turned away and hurried off, abandoning him without a backward glance.
So cleanly and quickly they discarded their own man that I almost admired it.
Or perhaps they had never considered him a comrade at all.
A strange pity welled up for the wretch in my hand.
I showed him the sight of his fleeing "companions" and asked:
"Tell me again—which sect are you with?"
"Th-those… bast—"
Tears streamed down his face.
Clicking my tongue, I simply hurled him to the ground.
Thud-thud-thud!
"Guaagh!"
As he writhed like a drenched rat, I told him coldly:
"Get lost. If I see you again in the same state, I'll take your life then."
"Th-thank you! Thank you, sir!"
Hwa Yeongbin and I watched him scurry away.
Then I cautiously asked Yeongbin:
"Are you… all right?"
The question carried many layers of meaning.
He kept his eyes on the fleeing youth a moment, then gave me a faint smile.
"I think so. When I consider that Heaven—or perhaps she—still does not wish for my coming, I find myself wanting to live more earnestly."
His smile still carried sadness, but it was far lighter than before.
Perhaps returning from the brink of death had rekindled his will to live.
I was relieved.
Then, with a small smile, he turned to me and asked:
"You said you planned to strike the Blood Cult within five years, didn't you?"
"Within Five Years"
"You said you planned to strike the Blood Cult within five years, didn't you?"
Attack the Blood Cult within five years.
It was something I had always repeated like a mantra.
And yet, just moments ago, it had been the very thought that tormented me.
Can that really be done?
After being utterly crushed by Sa Won-yang, and after witnessing the overwhelming martial might of Cheok Gang, the goal now seemed as unreachable as touching the heavens.
Rather than toppling the Blood Cult, it felt far likelier I would die a pointless death before achieving anything.
But then I grinned and nodded.
"Yes. I will."
Even if it meant dying without achieving a thing, I had no choice but to strike at the Blood Cult within five years.
Because this wasn't a matter of if possible, then yes; if impossible, then no.
If I failed to bring down the Blood Cult, then just like in my past life, I would lose everything again.
So I had to do it.
For myself. For those precious to me.
At that, Hwa Yeongbin's eyes burned with a heat I had never before seen in him.
"Yes… Somehow, if it's you, I believe it can be done. Let me join you then. I will give my utmost to become far stronger than I am now, so I can truly help you when that time comes."
The hollow, weary look that had always lingered in his eyes was gone—replaced with a blazing fire.
Seeing that light, I felt something stir inside me.
Maybe it really was possible.
If I didn't fight alone—if I had people like him beside me—perhaps it could truly be done.
My chest burned, answering his gaze with its own heat.
So I quipped playfully:
"Well, you're still lacking for now, but I'll trust your word that you'll work hard."
He laughed broadly in return.
"Good. I'll do my very best."
We clasped hands firmly.
The heat radiating from his palm seemed to ignite my very heart.
Then Hwa Yeongbin suddenly asked, as if remembering something:
"Ah, yes. There's something I must tell you. About that sword of yours. Do you know anything about it?"
"My sword? You mean Mukrang?"
I looked down at Mukrang, the very blade that had just drawn the interest of that arrogant Hong fellow. Hwa Yeongbin's expression grew grave.
"Yes, your sword. If my memory is correct, I once saw one almost exactly like it. Different in color, but the same form."
I froze.
A sword identical to Mukrang?
What he said next shocked me even more.
"And the man who wielded it… was none other than the Sword Emperor."
"…What?! The Sword Emperor?!"
"Yes. The one known as the Crimson Wolf Sword Emperor, Ban Jungyang—the greatest under heaven."
My jaw dropped.
The Crimson Wolf Sword Emperor, Ban Jungyang.
Among the fifteen Absolutes—the Ilje, Iwang, Samsung, Sama, and Ogwe—he stood first.
In other words, the peerless Number One under Heaven.
His name had leapt out so suddenly that I could only swallow hard and wait for more.
But the story Hwa Yeongbin continued with was about a figure from a hundred years past.
"You've heard of the Seven-Star Sword God from a century ago, haven't you?"
The Martial God, the Demon God, the Thunder God, and the Sword God—those titans who had lived in the same age a hundred years ago were remembered as near-myths.
Since then, no one had earned the title of "God." And the province of Zhejiang, where those figures had once walked, was still revered as sacred ground by martial artists to this day.
And now, the Sword God—last of those gods—was being brought up.
My heartbeat quickened.
"Yes, of course I know."
"But did you also know that beyond 'Seven-Star Sword God,' he was also called the Heavenly Wolf Sword God?"
Heavenly Wolf…
"The Heavenly Wolf Sword God? No… I've never heard that."
I looked instinctively at Mukrang, at the wolf's head engraved clearly on its guard.
"Before his passing, the Sword God lamented that he had no disciple capable of inheriting his full mastery. So he declared that he would leave his legacy within one of his personal belongings—that one day, fate would deliver it to a worthy successor. But he never revealed what that item was."
I swallowed.
Could that be the legendary legacy of the Sword God?
I muttered without thinking:
"Then the bloodbath… was that the cause of the Sword God's Massacre?"
Hwa Yeongbin nodded gravely.
"Yes. That was the origin of the Sword God's Massacre. A storm of blood that lasted ten years. Even his brushes, his papers, anything he had touched—people killed one another endlessly over them. But after ten years, the storm abruptly ceased, as though it had never been."
"It just… stopped?"
That was strange.
Greed for such treasures does not simply vanish.
If the Sword God's true legacy was hidden among them, then such artifacts would be cursed to drag endless rivers of blood across the world.
And yet it had ended after a mere decade.
I organized my thoughts and spoke slowly:
"There was no legacy among them."
"Exactly." Hwa Yeongbin smiled in approval. "The King of the Four Kings of that era could not stand the chaos. He gathered all the Sword God's belongings and publicly tested each before orthodox and unorthodox masters alike. He was, by all accounts, a noble man respected by both sides, and a personal acquaintance of the Sword God himself. And not a single trace of the Sword God's legacy was found."
That was astonishing.
The current King of the Four Kings, Cold-Blooded Demon King Naeng Gyuram of the Myriad Threads Pavilion, though said to love fair duels, was still considered one of the three most cruel men alive, alongside the Heavenly Demon and the Blood Demon.
And yet his ancestor had been a man universally revered.
The idea felt almost unreal.
Hwa Yeongbin went on:
"Since none of the Sword God's belongings held his legacy, people concluded that he left that message simply to sow strife among the greedy. And indeed, the martial world enjoyed decades of peace afterward. Still, most clung to the belief that he had hidden his legacy somewhere else."
The Sword God's legacy—unfound, to this day.
My heart pounded.
If so, then perhaps…
"Then, twenty years ago, that man appeared. Once an ordinary wanderer, then suddenly rising to absolute power as the Crimson Wolf Sword Emperor, Ban Jungyang."
I swallowed hard.
"Then… could it be…?"
"Yes." Hwa Yeongbin nodded. "When I once visited him alongside my master, who knew him well, he personally confirmed it. He said he had indeed inherited the Sword God's legacy. And as he said this, he gazed fondly at his sword—the crimson blade known as the Blood Wolf Sword, identical in form to your Mukrang."
I stared at Mukrang, my heart hammering in my chest.
If so, then the true nature of this "Mukrang" was…
"Of course, it may be nothing. Even if it is truly the Sword God's legacy, it may be nothing more than a sword that cuts well. But be wary. If anyone recognizes that blade, they will covet it. Without fail."
Knowing what I knew about Mukrang's hidden secret, his warning fell heavier than anything I had ever heard.
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