Chapter 100
Chapter 100: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
A span of three days slipped past.
Minor altercations flared up among the warriors gathered within the subterranean expanse, yet matters had not yet degenerated into an outright slaughter that littered the ground with corpses.
Such restraint made sense.
The Namgung and Wudang contingents maintained possession of the provisions, keenly aware that dragging out the deadlock would only leave their dark-path adversaries increasingly drained.
On the other hand, the standoff worked to the benefit of the Ten Greenwood Heroes and a handful of unorthodox masters as well.
As the pangs of hunger intensified among the lower ranks, their animosity would only sharpen. This allowed the four figures of the Ten Greenwood Heroes—who commanded both the greatest martial prowess and the most formidable influence—to consolidate authority over every stray fighter present.
It was a sharp, calculating move.
Whether through deliberate preparation or sheer fortune, those leaders and their personal entourages possessed enough sustenance to last a few days.
Remarkably, they chose to distribute the bulk of their rations among the unaligned warriors.
It presented an almost comedic contradiction: the righteous, orthodox factions jealously guarded their stores, while ruthless scoundrels of the dark path presented an image of supreme charity.
Of course, every crumb was parted with for a purpose. By offering that food, they secured temporary command over the crowd and directed everyone’s boiling anger straight toward the orthodox camps.
Even so, this fragile stalemate was rapidly fraying at the edges.
More precisely, the dark-path faction had reached its absolute breaking point.
The orthodox side retained a steady reserve of food. They could easily afford to sit back until their starved opponents withered away completely.
For the dark path, however, the golden window was right now.
Launching a strike this very moment afforded them their best prospect of coming out on top.
Had their adversaries been anyone other than Namgung and Wudang—pillars of the righteous sects whose reputation for the blade stood unrivaled—the mob would have torn into them days ago.
“Phew, this is suffocating. The air is so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife, couldn’t you?”
“Tell me about it. One misplaced glance and blood will start spilling.”
Standing nearby, Tang Gun and Tang Yeon watched the brewing storm with quiet sighs.
“Brother Hwi, I genuinely wonder if standing by like this is the proper path.”
“Even if the crowd is mostly made up of unorthodox and dark-path fighters, nearly a third are orthodox martial artists. None of them did anything deserving of such cruelty.”
Yanghwi was on the verge of replying that their blinding avarice was crime enough, yet he swallowed the retort.
Having known them in his prior existence, he was well aware that members of the Tang Clan were naturally endowed with such an unbending disposition.
That very integrity was why he held both Tang Gun and Tang Yeon in such high esteem.
“I understand your misgivings, Brother Tang. Set your mind at ease. I am a true scion of the Baek family; when it comes to upholding chivalry, I will never fall short of the Tang Clan’s standards.”
“I hear you. I will place my faith in you, Brother Hwi.”
Offering Tang Gun a gaze steeped in unshakeable conviction, Yanghwi shifted his focus to Chudal.
“Chudal, the time has come for us to get moving.”
“Boss, you’re really not going to let me in on the plan until the absolute last second?”
“That’s right.”
Had the matter been critical or required tight collaboration, he would have laid it out plainly from the start.
Because there was no such pressure, keeping it under wraps provided some lighthearted entertainment for the group.
…Besides, Brother Tang would undoubtedly raise objections, insisting they seek out a far more upright alternative.
The man was simply too unyielding.
Yanghwi had been brought up under the rigorous, high-minded chivalric ethos of the Baek family, yet even he found himself shaking his head in mild disbelief whenever he observed Tang Gun’s rigid principles.
“Let’s move, Chudal.”
“Right behind you.”
With a brief parting nod to their comrades, the pair began ascending the shaft they had previously traversed.
The duration of a modest meal drifted past.
A slender trickle of fresh water meandered across the half-shattered expanse of the ravine.
A pale hand suddenly breached the surface of the rushing cascade.
“Pha-ha! By heaven, that feels wonderful.”
Seizing the moment, Yanghwi plunged straight into the basin, scrubbing away every fleck of grime and caked earth clinging to his skin.
The sensation was as deeply revitalizing as wrapping oneself in crisp robes and resting on clean sheets.
“Boss! I finally feel like a living human being again!”
Only after thoroughly ridding themselves of filth in the frigid current did they emerge from the ravine.
“Wait.”
“What’s the matter, Boss?”
“Where are all the martial artists?”
“Huh? Now that you mention it…”
They had used the Hao Sect to broadcast word of this place far and wide.
Even setting aside those early arrivals who had tumbled headlong into the Tomb of the Sword King, latecomers ought to have arrived in droves by now, gathering outside.
Yet the clearing sat utterly deserted.
An unanticipated variable had entered the equation.
Taking no chances, Yanghwi expanded his qi sense outward across the surrounding terrain.
Fortunately, no hostile presence fell within his perception, but…
The silence only deepened his unease. What could have occurred out here?
His features hardening, Yanghwi immediately tapped into his lightfoot technique.
“Keep up with my pace.”
Their path led back toward Taihe—specifically, the tavern that doubled as the local Hao Sect branch where they had previously lodged.
His original intention had been to acquire provisions and materials for his scheme within the market of Gyesu before slipping back into the tomb, but this unexpected irregularity made a simple errand insufficient.
“I will be moving at high speed. Speak up if you fall behind, and I will carry you on my back.”
“Carry me, then.”
“Keep quiet.”
As a playful punishment for the cheeky retort, Yanghwi hoisted the boy over his shoulder like a sack of grain and took off at a blinding sprint.
With every thunderous leap Yanghwi took off the turf, the breath was knocked clean out of Chudal’s lungs, producing a continuous stream of wheezes and groans.
In this manner, they reached Taihe.
“…Boss. Isn’t that the spot? Where the tavern was standing?”
“It is. That was the place.”
As the most prosperous establishment in Taihe, the Hao Sect’s local stronghold had occupied prime real estate within the busiest corner of the marketplace.
Now, nothing remained except a mound of smoldering, blackened debris.
The Hao Sect branch had been wiped out. Someone had leveled it entirely.
If turning Shaolin into a sworn foe was the height of folly under heaven, earning the hatred of the Beggars’ Sect or the Hao Sect ranked a close second or third.
What power had dared to bring this about?
“Chudal. Let us gather some intelligence.”
Parting ways to discreetly sound out the locals regarding what had transpired, they reconvened after a short interval.
“Boss. Two nights ago, a monstrous explosion shook the area, and the building was consumed by fire in an instant.”
“I uncovered the same. It is said not a single soul made it out alive.”
The rumors confirmed that everyone from the common service hands to the tavern master—who served as the branch commander—had been reduced to charred remains.
Furthermore, another deeply troubling piece of information surfaced.
“Did you catch the other chatter, Boss? Word is sweeping through the crowds that the Tomb of the Sword King is nothing more than an empty, fabricated tale.”
For a prevailing rumor to reverse course entirely within so brief a window…
They had spent half a month painstakingly feeding the fires of that very rumor with dry wood.
To see that blaze stamped out and redirected within a single fortnight meant hands in the shadows were deliberately steering the narrative.
The branch of the Hao Sect that had disseminated knowledge concerning the Tomb of the Sword King was obliterated, and every trace of the rumor had evaporated into thin air.
Could that truly be mere circumstance?
Not for a second.
“Should we figure out who is behind this?”
“Doing so in broad daylight will draw too many eyes. We will comb through the wreckage once the sun goes down.”
Following an agonizing wait of several shichen, the crimson sun finally dipped beneath the horizon.
Guiding Chudal behind him, Yanghwi blended into the shadows and crept into the charred skeleton of the tavern.
At that very instant…
“Hold on.”
“What is it?”
“This presence…”
Deep within him, his immortal qi stirred in reaction.
Throughout his travels, that inner energy had ever stirred for one sole reason: the proximity of something profoundly wicked.
Gently lowering his eyelids, he pushed his senses outward to their utmost threshold.
Not content with mere perception, he coaxed Harmonious Heaven qi, rich with immortal qi, from his dantian and unspooled it into the air like invisible threads of silk.
He had not yet ascended to the apex realm.
True sword energy remained just beyond his grasp, but the convergence of mind and qi was well within his capabilities.
Relying on the realizations and ingrained memories preserved from his former life, he could treat the qi flowing outside his physical form as an extension of his own senses.
After diligently probing the surrounding ruins, certainty settled within Yanghwi’s mind.
It was faint, yet unmistakable: demonic qi. A sinister evil cult was behind this.
“Boss, did you uncover anything?”
Because this was not a revelation to thrust upon Chudal on the spot, he chose silence for the moment.
“Let us search a bit further.”
“Understood.”
Though the inferno had collapsed more than half the structure, the tavern master’s private quarters on the uppermost level had miraculously remained standing.
Vaulting upward with effortless grace, Yanghwi methodically scrutinized every square foot of the chamber.
Then, his gaze locked onto a specific mark.
“Look at this.”
Bloodstains, baked dark by the flames.
Drawing upon his extensive wanderings, he pieced the scene together in an instant.
The branch leader had sustained grievous, bleeding wounds, lingering in agony before the fire claimed him.
Which implied…
Tracking the spatter, he pinpointed where the fallen figure had drawn his final breath.
Resting precisely in that spot was a scorched scrap of fabric.
Turning the cloth over, he found characters scrawled across the weave in human blood.
[I did not speak. I seek vengeance.]
He gave up nothing, and now he demands retribution…
The message had been left for Yanghwi himself.
It signified that the man had gone to his death without revealing the identity of the person who had supplied the intelligence regarding the Tomb of the Sword King.
Judging by the patterns on the ground, there had not even been prolonged torture.
The branch master knew Yanghwi was the only one capable of deciphering the situation. He had endured to his final breath so that Yanghwi would act as his avenger.
With solemn reverence, Yanghwi bowed his head in a silent prayer for the departed.
Though the deceased was merely an operative of the Hao Sect, he had met an undeserved, brutal end.
I owe you no debt of vengeance, yet I will claim it on your behalf regardless.
If the perpetrators belonged to an evil cult, their destruction was necessary anyway.
That was the duty required of anyone who claimed to walk the path of chivalry.
“Boss. What is the verdict?”
“…Let us discuss it while we travel. The others will be growing anxious.”
Summoning his lightfoot technique once more, Yanghwi outlined the situation as they ran.
“Chudal. Our primary motive for departing earlier was simply to gather rations.”
“I figured that much out. Stirring up chaos in that cavern required food above all else. Planting some fabricated news on top of that would have tied the whole scheme together nicely.”
Not long ago, Yanghwi had regarded him as little more than a green youth, but the boy had matured considerably.
“Precisely. My aim was to make life utterly miserable for those arrogant Namgung bastards. But things have changed; now is hardly the moment for petty squabbles.”
“Why? What did you find back there?”
“Put simply, vile practitioners of the demonic arts appear to be using the Tomb of the Sword King to serve their own foul ambitions.”
Chudal’s expression instantly drained of color.
“The stakes have grown far too terrifying. What do we do now?”
“Even I cannot say with certainty.”
The demonic factions destined to unleash the catastrophe known as the Evil Cult Chaos in the years ahead numbered three: the Blood Cult, the Bright Cult, and the Divine Cult.
Which of these insidious powers was reaching its claws toward the Tomb of the Sword King remained a mystery that even Yanghwi could not yet deduce.
“For the moment, we gather all the food and medicinal herbs we can carry and return immediately. Once back inside, we will watch how the pieces fall and react on the fly.”
Reaching Baeksu Mountain in Gyesu, the two slipped down through the fissure in the gorge and reunited with their waiting companions.
“Little Brother! What kept you away for so long?”
“We were beginning to think something terrible had happened.”
“Yanghwi. My stomach is growling.”
“Did the two of you sneak off just to loaf around together?”
Shaking his head gravely, Yanghwi began laying out the facts.
“Nothing of the sort. An incident has unfolded in the world above.”
He recounted the slaughter of the Hao Sect branch master and the eerie eradication of the rumors within days.
“On top of that, I detected lingering traces of demonic qi within the ashes of the Hao Sect branch.”
At those words, the Tang siblings, Gu Ak, and even young Adu froze, their countenances taking on an immense, chilling gravity.
“Demonic qi, you say?”
“Then… the vilest scum of the demonic path…?”
Orthodox and dark paths managed an uneasy, fractured coexistence under heaven.
Righteous and unorthodox sects clashed endlessly, boasting openly whenever they took the life of a rival.
Yet the demonic path belonged to an entirely different realm of terror.
To every soul beneath the skies, the demonic path represented an absolute evil marked for extermination, an entity of pure horror.
The reason was clear as day.
It was, by its very nature, the demonic path.
Its followers were madmen who walked in step with devils.
“Mara! They must all be broken and guided toward the righteous path!”
Adu’s usual sweet, carefree demeanor vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, formidable aura of divine fury.
He stood there resembling an arhat plucked straight from the verses of Buddhist scripture.
“Brother Hwi, were you able to unearth any further details?”
“Regrettably, no. What remains undeniable, however, is that those demon practitioner bastards are orchestrating some catastrophic scheme using the warriors assembled down below.”
“I agree with that assessment.”
Whether the hand at work belonged to the Blood Cult, the Bright Cult, or the Divine Cult, not a single one had stepped out of the dark just yet.
That left two distinct paths they had to pursue without delay.
“Starting this instant, we clear every trial within the Tomb of the Sword King with everything we have.”
And there was one further task.
Peering through the narrow fissure in the stone, Yanghwi glared down at the martial artists packed inside the subterranean cavern.
Whatever grand design you bastards have laid out, you will never see it bear fruit.
He resolved to tear through them all, just as he had dismantled the Ghost Slave Hundred Demons in years past.
Sensing the immortal core resting deep within his dantian and the immortal qi coiling like a fierce dragon within its depths, the corners of his mouth curved into a chilling, knowing smirk.
No matter what trap those fiends had set…
“If I simply act like a stubborn little contrarian and wreck every single step of their plan from the ground up, things should sort themselves out, right? Hehehe.”
The resolute, relentless interference of the realm’s undisputed master of sabotage was about to begin.
“…”
Observing Yanghwi’s grin, Chudal felt a sudden, icy shudder race down his spine.
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