Chapter 510
Chapter 510: Into the Darkness (5)
The half-millennium of calm that dawned with the birth of the Martial Alliance had, in due course, ushered in its greatest era of prosperity.
Yet the scars carved into the jianghu when it once trembled beneath the Demonic Cult’s eerie sorceries and uncanny martial forms ran deep, haunting the era’s foremost masters like lingering terrors.
Tormented by that persistent, uneasy pressure—akin to the dull discomfort of an unemptied bladder—the leaders of the realm initiated a thorough cleansing of the martial landscape right alongside this gilded age.
It became an epoch marked by the ruthless eradication of unorthodox disciplines and occult practices. Eventually, even the arts of illusion and talisman weaving were condemned as deviant crafts.
Naturally, when the saplings nurtured within such meticulously sanitized earth grew into towering trees, they possessed no resilience against rot or parasite.
Within the subterranean recesses of the Sword Tomb, it was readily apparent how disgracefully these sheltered, greenhouse blossoms would behave when tested.
“Heheheh, you greedy dog. You clutched it so dearly, and look where it got you. Your gold belongs to me now!”
One cultivator clawed through coin pouches before even sparing a thought of grief for his fallen comrade.
“Perish! Perish! Die, damn you!”
Another, painted from head to toe in gore, frantically hammered his bare hands against a solid boulder.
None of them possessed the clarity to fathom their own degradation; having succumbed entirely to Mindless Illusion Powder, they surrendered to unrestrained lunacy.
A handful did grasp that their faculties were slipping away.
“Om somani somani hum harinna harinna…”
Even so, all they could manage was to ward off the phantoms prowling their psyches by chanting a fragmented Demon-Subjugation Mantra picked up by chance. Barely anyone retained the resolve to take independent action.
“Things have taken a terrible turn.”
As Geumpyo observed, conditions throughout the Sword Tomb were worsening rapidly.
Wanderers severed from their companions lay strewn across the caverns, reduced to gibbering wrecks.
Curiously, none of these frenzied wanderers charged us on sight.
Even as madness eroded their minds, their raw instinct for self-preservation had sharpened to a razor’s edge. They maintained an uncanny knack for gauging genuine peril.
‘Which means the moment they perceive us as weak, they won’t hesitate to tear into us.’
Their fractured psyches had long discarded notions of friend or foe. The solitary measure that registered was whether an approaching figure was predator or prey.
With every passing day, the Sword Tomb grew increasingly lethal.
“Could the Second Investigation Unit… have been entirely wiped out?”
“There is no telling.”
Though Mindless Illusion Powder posed a far swifter threat to practitioners of the Black Path than those of the White Path, that distinction offered the righteous sects no absolute sanctuary.
Without witnessing their corpses firsthand or speaking to them directly, drawing conclusions was impossible.
This oppressive, warped atmosphere was exerting its toll even upon our party, despite our having consumed Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets to shield our senses.
“…!”
“Who goes there?”
We crossed paths with four pugilists inside the cavern chamber we had just breached.
While the dye of their robes varied, their bearing and the crests woven into their garments unmistakably signified their allegiance to the White Path.
—Sh-should we strike them down?
Nam Hwaseong’s sudden sound transmission resonated within my mind.
When I shot him an incredulous glance, he hastened to press his point.
—A-attack them? Do we take the initiative and hit them first?
“…”
Perhaps I had driven the lesson home with a bit too much vigor.
Every time a fellow practitioner of the righteous factions crossed his path, his muscles coiled and his fists rose. I remained torn between gratification and exasperation.
Letting out a muted sigh at Nam Hwaseong, who looked poised to pounce at the slightest provocation, I closed the distance between our groups.
Reassuringly, the Red Phoenix Bangle remained silent even as the gap narrowed.
“I am Jin Sowoon, Hall Master of the Martial Alliance’s Yuseong Hall.”
For every pace I gained, the four fighters retreated two paces into the gloom.
“What trickery is this? I have never heard of any Yuseong Hall within the Alliance.”
“The hall was established only recently.”
“Be that as it may, clear out if you have no business with us.”
Despite my courteous approach, they exhibited no intention of dropping their guard.
“Allow me a single inquiry, then. Have you encountered anyone belonging to the Moyong Clan?”
“…We have not.”
After a brief pause for consideration, they shook their heads.
I pressed onward.
“Have rumors reached you? An unnatural contagion is dispersing through the Sword Tomb. Whispers say it twists a warrior’s very temperament once the affliction takes hold.”
“…Cease this drivel and begone!”
I gestured subtly toward Geumpyo, who retrieved four paper-wrapped Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets from the bundle strapped across their back and presented them forward.
I extended a hand toward Dang Seohui.
“The Tang Clan concocted this remedy to counteract that very venom. Swallowing it remains at your discretion, but if surviving this tomb is your aim, you would be wise to take it.”
The four martial artists kept their eyes locked upon us without blinking until we had fully moved past.
Only after our footsteps receded did they tentatively scoop up the wrapped Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets.
Doubt lingering in their eyes, they merely stared after us, leaving the pills untouched.
“Senior Brother, do you believe they will actually consume them?”
“Who can say? If heaven favors them, perhaps.”
Compelling them to swallow medicine against their will was out of the question.
Who among the paranoid would willingly ingest an unknown remedy offered by absolute strangers?
Their odds of doing so would rise only if at least one among them noticed the rot creeping into his own thoughts.
“Why claim that the Tang Clan manufactured the remedy?”
“They would hardly place their trust in me if I took credit for it.”
“So you simply borrow the prestige of the Tang Clan?”
“Well, did the Tang Clan not produce them in truth?”
When I met Geumpyo’s gaze as though their bewilderment were misplaced, their eyes twitched faintly.
Were they troubled over the ethics of utilizing the Tang Clan’s name?
I drew a mooncake from the fold of my sleeve and passed it to Dang Seohui.
“…Jin Sowoon speaks no falsehood.”
“…”
Even with her endorsement, Geumpyo continued to regard me with the impassive, unblinking stillness of a stone Buddha.
Just what reaction were they hoping to elicit from me?
The Sichuan Tang Clan.
Deep within the family estate, an unconscious member of the expedition team finally fluttered his eyes awake.
This recovery stood as a testament to the household physicians who had maintained an unceasing vigil through the night, a direct reflection of the Tang Clan’s legendary mastery over the healing arts.
Yet the moment they attempted to debrief the scout on the horrors lurking within the Sword Tomb, chaos erupted.
“Aaaagh! Keep your hands off me!”
“Calm yourself! It is I, the Master of the Tang Clan Medical Hall! Regain your senses!”
Beset by vivid hallucinations, the scout babbled incoherently and met every face with feral suspicion.
Whenever the attendants attempted to administer medicinal drafts, the patient resisted with frantic violence, abruptly halting any further treatment.
“Stay back! Take one more step and I will slit all your throats!”
In the end, the warrior went so far as to level a drawn blade directly at an attending physician, forcing the staff to strike him unconscious once more.
“Whatever pestilence this is, it has thoroughly shattered the stability of his spiritual heart.”
Fifty elite scouts had ventured into the depths.
A mere three crawled back to the surface, and two of those had already drawn their final breaths.
Now, the sole living witness verged on total madness.
“Setting aside an interrogation, is recovery truly beyond our reach?”
Because of this impasse, the reserve forces assembled within the clan were unable to deploy.
“What if we bind his limbs and force him conscious once more?”
Dispatching warriors into that abyssal tomb blind to the prevailing hazard amounted to pure self-destruction.
Furthermore, if living kin remained trapped within the Sword Tomb, duty demanded their rescue—or, at the very least, the solemn recovery of their bones.
When Young Clan Head Dang Mուգap posed the suggestion, the attending physician could only offer a sorrowful shake of his head.
“His conscious mind remains fractured. If we rouse him forcibly under such strain, he may do irreparable harm to his own meridians…”
Just then, the Poison King, Dang Hyeokje, strode through the doorway.
Dang Hyeokje’s brow furrowed heavily as his gaze landed upon the restrained survivor.
“Did reports not claim the boy had regained consciousness?”
“He did, Clan Head. However, he became violently hysterical, leaving us no alternative but to put him under again.”
Dang Mուգap meticulously recounted the survivor’s frenzied actions.
“Illusions, you say…”
Fixating on that singular word, Dang Hyeokje studied the prone figure.
Extracting an acupuncture roll, his fingers blurred as silver needles pierced into the survivor’s vital apertures with astonishing speed.
The senior physician could only look on in wide-eyed reverence at such flawless, peerless needlework.
Having placed the silver shafts in mere heartbeats, Dang Hyeokje drew them out with equal celerity.
His eyes narrowed as he examined the patient, an inkling of doubt crossing his face.
“Did you discover the root of the ailment?”
“He suffers waking phantoms, yet this is no conventional poison.”
The gathered attendants could scarcely conceal their distress at Dang Hyeokje’s pronouncement.
If Dang Hyeokje himself—a sovereign who held mastery over all toxins known under heaven—could not recognize the agent, then no soul present stood a chance.
Suddenly, Dang Hyeokje snapped his head upward as an old memory struck him.
“Do we possess any Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets in our stores?”
“Pardon? Ah… certainly, we retain a supply.”
A physician hurriedly offered forward a single Heart-Calming Spirit Pellet.
Dang Hyeokje inspected the small sphere before pacing directly toward the bound man.
The physician blanched, instinctively attempting to intervene.
“Clan Head, the vital balance of his five viscera and six bowels remains dangerously unaligned! Forcing such an elixir down his throat at this stage may invite unpredictable complications.”
“What greater complication could manifest beyond an upset stomach?”
“…Be that as it may, for a patient so near death—”
“Finding the truth of this matter outweighs a bout of diarrhea.”
With a sharp jab to an acupoint, Dang Hyeokje forced the scout awake, instantly wedging the entire Heart-Calming Spirit Pellet past the thrashing patient’s teeth and clapping a hand over his mouth.
The scout writhed and struggled fiercely against the intrusion.
Yet as the moments dragged on, his frantic spasms gradually subsided, until his limbs fell completely slack against the cot.
Then—
“Haaah! C-Clan Head?!”
The scout gasped, eyes widening in sheer bewilderment.
“Has your mind cleared?”
“Wh-where am I…? What is this? Why am I bound like this…?”
The scout frantically looked around, demanding an explanation for the ropes binding his arms and legs, but silence hung heavy in the room.
With a slight flick of his chin, Dang Hyeokje signaled for Dang Mուգap to accompany him out into the courtyard.
“Father… how could you possibly have known?”
“I knew nothing.”
“What?”
“I merely recalled the words of that arrogant little brat.”
“That brat…?”
“Who else but Jin Sowoon?”
The insolent pup who had brazenly demanded an absurd shipment of Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets in anticipation of an upheaval capable of rocking the entire martial sphere.
Yet reality had played out precisely to his designs.
“The remedy truly dispels it…”
Reflecting on this for a brief beat, Dang Hyeokje turned his gaze back upon Dang Mուգap.
Dang Mուգap flinched, instinctively putting his hands up to dissuade him.
“Father, under no circumstances are you permitted to step foot inside that tomb!”
“…”
“If you insist on entering, I am marching right beside you. I swear this on my life!”
“…Who claimed I had any intention of entering?”
Dang Hyeokje cleared his throat forcefully before resuming his command.
“If the Sword Tomb was orchestrated through deliberate calculation, just as that brat asserted, this crisis will spiral beyond all control. Marshal a new vanguard unit immediately.”
“How shall the command structure be arranged?”
“Dang Suje shall serve as Unit Leader, with Dang Yangseo acting as his Deputy.”
Dang Mուգap’s brows arched in shock.
“You intend to dispatch Hall Master Dang Yangseo?”
“I would empty the barracks of the entire Poison Practitioner Unit if the clan could spare them.”
“…”
Dang Hyeokje’s jade-tinted pupils flashed with cold light.
“Do you recall what I witnessed within the sacred sanctuary of the Blood Cult?”
“An overwhelming, monstrous obsession directed squarely at the Central Plains.”
“And I fear the Blood Cult does not walk that dark path alone.”
The grim set of the Poison King’s features—a legend who had walked the earth fearing neither gods nor demons—grew more unyielding than ever.
“What is the current count of completed Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets?”
“Just north of five thousand.”
“Allocate four thousand directly to the vanguard. The remaining thousand are to be distributed among those traveling through Chengdu or marching toward the Sword Tomb.”
“If the site harbors such catastrophic peril, should we not bar the martial populace from entering entirely?”
Dang Hyeokje scoffed softly, as if bewildered by his son’s naivety.
“Do you honestly believe any force beneath the heavens can curb the avarice of a martial artist?”
“…”
“Neither emperors, lords, commanders, prime ministers, the Jade Emperor, nor the emissaries of the netherworld can stem the tide of a cultivator’s desire.”
The only draught potent enough to drown their relentless ambition was an ocean of blood atop a mountain of rotting corpses.
“Rescind the general readiness protocol. Instruct every medical practitioner in the estate to channel all their labor into mass-producing Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets.”
“It shall be done.”
“Wait, one more directive.”
Dang Hyeokje caught Dang Mուգap’s shoulder.
“Dispatch a secret missive to the Taeul Sect.”
“The Taeul Sect?”
“Indeed. Inform them that I request a private council once the dust of this ordeal settles.”
“???”
“A tempest gathers on the horizon. When the great gale descends, one must unfurl their sails to ride the prevailing wind.”
“Geumpyo! Break through!”
Geumpyo, whose sword had been whistling through the air in continuous arcs, slammed the Vajra Shield forward and plowed through the tunnel.
Simultaneously, Ilgak’s Vajra Fist detonated with concussive force, clearing away the obstruction blocking our passage.
“Jin Sowoon!”
Heeding Nam Hwaseong’s urgent cry, I whipped my blade backward, discharging a fierce wave of sword qi into the heights of the corridor.
The craggy vault of the cavern sheared apart, bringing an avalanche of stone thundering down behind us.
Thud!
That marked our fifth violent skirmish.
We had been caught in a relentless cycle of clashes against wandering factions of the Black Path.
True to form, martial artists of the unorthodox sects proved extraordinarily susceptible to the Mindless Illusion Powder.
We had attempted to distribute Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets to them, but their frenzied agitation ran too deep for reason to reach them.
“Haaaah…”
The instant the corridor cleared and room to breathe opened up, the disciples of Yuseong Hall dropped heavily to the stone floor.
Carrying a modest retinue of just six fighters meant the cumulative exhaustion of constant combat was draining us at twice the normal rate.
“Benefactor Jin, pushing forward under these conditions will soon become impossible.”
I was acutely aware of that reality.
Yet until the Tang Clan managed to circulate a substantial supply of Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets, we had no alternative remedy.
Worse, we had long since lost the tracks of the Moyong Clan, and locating them had become a matter of desperate urgency.
Just as our options appeared entirely exhausted, Dang Seohui, who had been resting against the wall, abruptly pushed herself upright.
In that identical heartbeat, my internal sensory net registered the approach of a sizable contingent.
‘How are there still so many fighters gathered here?’
As I weighed the choices between tactical retreat and preparing for battle, figures began emerging into the cavern opening one after another.
Ilgak, Dang Seohui, and I cautiously lowered our stances.
Then, a voice called out from the vanguard of the arriving group, recognizing our faces.
“Ilgak? Dang Seohui?”
A wave of low whispers rippled through the ranks.
“Where? Good heavens, it really is them.”
“What brings you to these depths?”
Within moments, a wall of warriors had fanned out around us.
They were the forces of the Martial Alliance’s First Investigation Unit.
As their ranks closed tighter, a discreet transmission brushed against my ear.
—S-should we strike? Do we hit them first?
Nam Hwaseong’s robes billowed with primed internal energy as he spoke.
—Strike them down? Do we attack?
Beside him, Yayul Geuk’s cheeks burned crimson, radiating sheer, reckless excitement.
“…”
I had merely intended to instill a healthy sense of vigilance in them. The conditioning had clearly worked a little too well…
“One, two, three, four… just how many candied hawthorns does that tally up to?”
Merciful heavens, someone make them stop…
“So the Chief Strategist took it upon himself to deploy you?”
The commander overseeing the First Investigation Unit regarded us with palpable distaste.
“Is this how lightly you treat your sworn word?”
The representatives flanking the commander chimed in with their own biting remarks.
“What kind of fools do you take us for, orchestrating covert maneuvers behind our backs?”
“It seems our unit has become nothing more than a joke to you people.”
Even with their commanding officer standing right before them, these martial artists dispensed with standard protocol entirely. It was obvious that remnants of diverse sects had folded into their ranks, rather than this being purely the initial First Investigation Unit.
Their numbers far exceeded the roster that had originally set forth from the Martial Alliance.
“What is the extent of your losses?”
At my question, the unit commander’s brow twitched with visible irritation.
“Do you imagine myself beholden to report our casualties to you?”
Was this foul temperament the handiwork of Mindless Illusion Powder? Or did he simply harbor a personal grudge against me?
“If the question offends your pride, feel free to withhold your answer. I merely wished to gauge how much of the Tang Clan’s provisions I ought to spare for your men.”
“The Tang Clan?”
“Indeed. Word reached us that an anomalous organism native to the Sword Tomb has been eroding the sanity of those who breathe its spores. Have you observed such symptoms among your ranks?”
“!”
Only upon hearing this did unsettled, knowing glances ripple between the commander and his lieutenants.
They, too, had evidently perceived the creeping madness eating at their people.
“What manner of supplies did you bring?”
“Do your forces require aid?”
“…”
“If you have no need of it—”
“We require it.”
The commander’s tone turned dead serious.
“We managed to secure two inheritances left behind by the Sword Venerable.”
“Commander!”
“How could you disclose that so freely?!”
“Silence, all of you! I am currently conferring with the Hall Master of Yuseong Hall.”
What a remarkably rapid shift in disposition.
I truly could not tell whether they despised me or were desperate for my favor.
“And during our time down here, we have weathered precisely seven separate plots to plunder those relics.”
“…”
“Every single attempt originated from within our own allied ranks.”
Their sheer desperation was plain to see.
Having remained submerged within the Sword Tomb for this long, they must have recognized that their men were teetering on the edge of complete collapse.
“I understand. I shall distribute the supplies.”
Relaying instructions to Geumpyo and Nam Hwaseong, we handed out Heart-Calming Spirit Pellets matched to their head count.
Once the exchange concluded, I brought up the subject of the missing clan.
“Regarding the Moyong Clan… have any of you caught their trail?”
“The Moyong Clan? We have not laid eyes upon them since parting ways near the cavern entrance.”
The representatives from the other sects who had crossed paths with them earlier inside the Sword Tomb echoed the exact same sentiment.
‘Hah… damn it all. Must I really seek out that wretched bastard after all?’
Spotting him amidst the sea of bodies was hardly a challenge.
Curse him, the fellow drew the eye no matter the crowd.
He stood there, coldly scrutinizing the Heart-Calming Spirit Pellet resting in his palm, on the verge of tossing it past his lips.
“Yong Soa.”
Those detached, unfeeling eyes shifted slowly toward me.
“What do you want?”
“You already know why I am here.”
His face remained a sheet of unreadable slate, feigning utter ignorance.
“The Moyong Clan… where are they right now?”
After a brief pause while he held my gaze, his lips parted.
“They…”
His flat, emotionless tone drifted into the chamber air as though reporting the most trivial banality under heaven.
“Are dead.”
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