Chapter: 412
Smoke rises in the dark forest.
The smoke lingering in the air is mixed with a stinging smell of burning flesh.
“Whoa… Euaaaah! Kkuaaaah!”
An unknown man repeatedly screams in terror as the fire engulfing his body burns his skin.
“Please… Jebaal!”
Desperate, he pleads with the figure clutching his neck, but the other person simply stares at him with the same cold, emotionless eyes.
Despite the expressionless face, those eyes burn a fiery red like flames themselves.
As the moonlight gently pours in, the shadowy dirt floor is revealed.
The exposed earth is painted a deep crimson.
The cause? It was soaked in blood.
“…Kreuk… Hur… Ugh.”
Caught in the flames, the man’s screams gradually fade away, eventually becoming silent.
He has breathed his last.
“…”
Thud.
The young man observing quietly finally lets go of the man’s body.
The lifeless figure collapses to the ground.
Just like that, the flame, which had been clinging to him like a ghost, vanishes.
“Ugh…”
The observer covers his mouth with a hand. The leader of their group is dead.
This captain was a formidable figure, said to have reached the pinnacle of his power even past his forties.
Chae-ju had acknowledged him as a remarkable person, yet he is now helplessly killed by what looks like a young man who barely looks like he’s out of his teens…
‘What in the world? What just happened?’
The man can’t comprehend the scene that just unfolded.
The same disbelief applies to the corpses lying behind the fallen captain.
One of the first captured has turned into mere ashes, unrecognizable.
The others died instantly, their necks snapped.
The most recent captain was no exception.
‘A monster… That’s definitely a monster.’
The man, trembling, begins to back away slowly.
However, he must stop when his back hits a wooden pillar.
“Haak… Haak…”
His mind is crushed beneath the weight of death’s terror.
Am I going to die? Is this really the end for me?
A sense of fear surges, and tears stream down his face.
He can’t even think of escaping.
His own legs are already crushed beneath the monster’s grip.
Creak.
The crouching monster shifts.
Fwhoosh! The monster’s body is still ablaze.
The man staring at the black flames has just one impression.
‘It’s cruel.’
This fire is nothing like the heavenly warmth of flame art.
He feels nothing at all.
It’s precisely this lack of feeling that terrifies him even more.
How can fire hold nothing?
No, it’s not that it holds nothing.
‘…Kill intent.’
The flames are like a mass of murderous intent.
Is it because everything is depicted within the flames he emits that I can’t feel anything from the monster?
How much intent does one need to possess to achieve such a state?
‘Fire? If it’s fire…’
At that moment, a particular rumor crosses the man’s mind.
He is currently the most famous fire sorcerer in the Central Plains.
A young hero praised as the leader of this epoch.
This youth, having mercilessly quelled the attacks of the Great Demon and executed the Sapha people, supposedly employs flame arts.
That title is…
“Anti-inflammation…”
Crack!
“…!”
Just as the man was about to scream at the sudden surge of pain, the young man, having approached, swiftly covers his mouth with his hand.
He doesn’t even know when it happened.
All five fingers have twisted in bizarre directions.
“Ugh… Ugh…!”
“If you even accidentally say that goddamn word again, I’ll rip your arm right off. I’ll still do it even if you scream. I’ll let go after three seconds. Just be quiet. Understood?”
At the young man’s emotionless command, the man nods repeatedly.
There was simply no way to refuse.
The young man silently withdraws his hand.
And in that moment, the man must endure the rising pain while keeping his mouth shut.
Their red-tinged eyes gaze down at him.
After a moment, the young man kneels to meet the man’s terrified gaze.
“What is your purpose?”
He asks a question just like those who tortured him earlier.
At this, the man, shaking in fear, struggles to respond.
“…You… You’ve already heard it, right?”
“Is that all?”
“Yes… Yes, that’s it.”
This had been disclosed already by the first one captured.
He was to follow the Tang Clan’s transport and ascertain their route.
Even after all that, the young man—no.
‘Soyeomra…’
The man grits his teeth at the mention of the young man’s identity.
They say he becomes more merciless than anyone else when handling the Sapha. It seems there’s truth to that.
‘I didn’t take him seriously just because he looked young…!’
The truth behind the rumor is far more terrifying.
How could someone exhibit such cruelty? It’s far too frightening and unnatural for someone ostensibly from respectable ranks.
The very sight of the torture inflicted mere moments ago could instill enough fear to make one wet themselves.
It certainly seemed he used his flames better than anyone for this purpose.
Is this truly the person called the future of the party?
As the man looks at Soyeomra with trembling eyes, Soyeomra continues, maintaining his expression as though unaffected by the horror unfolding.
“There were seven total. One second-rate, five first-rate, and one peak-rate.”
“…!”
The man feels a chill of dread; somehow, Soyeomra seems to have grasped the entire situation of his group.
That is indeed correct.
The captain was a peak-rate warrior.
The remaining ones were first-rate, while he himself was second-rate.
“It’s far beyond what a mere band of robbers should possess. Just who the hell are you people?”
“…Heuh…Heuh…”
“What’s your purpose? Huh?”
“I don’t really know that…”
Shhiiiik!
“Krrrraah!”
He seizes one of the already twisted fingers and burns it in the flames.
The man trembles in agonizing pain.
After several moments of torture, he is asked again.
“Give me your answer again.”
“I… I don’t know… Please… Please…”
“Good. Now let’s move on to another question. Is your top-ranking leader named Dangdeok?”
“Ugh…!?”
The moment Chaeju’s name slips from Soyeomra’s lips, the man’s body shudders.
‘How…?’
How on earth does Soyeomra know Chaeju’s real name?
In the Central Plains, he was known only by his title, and nobody knew his true name.
Perhaps recognizing the man’s reaction, Soyeomra smirks slightly.
The expression sends chills down his spine.
How can someone smile so terrifyingly?
“That’s right. He’s indeed your boss.”
“…What the hell…?”
“Why do you ask? Why crawl out of hiding and do something so unnecessary when you could have stayed silent instead?”
“…Are you acquainted with Chaeju, by any chance?”
“Am I acquainted with him?”
At the man’s question, Soyeomra flashes a smile.
“We have a certain understanding; it’s close enough that I could burst his eyeballs if I wanted.”
“…”
It’s clear that they’re far from being on good terms.
The man’s hopes of survival crumble as he finds no card left to play.
He continues to roll his eyes, fighting through the persistent pain.
Questions abound inside him.
He knew the information.
It’s said that the Soyeomra from the Tang Clan is also involved in the transport unit.
But, even acknowledging that the figure is highly regarded, he couldn’t afford to regard it as a threat equivalent to the Poison King or a head of a corrupt family.
‘How…?’
He recalls the ornament the captain once held.
A relic capable of masking its owner’s presence and surrounding sensations.
Even proficient experts would find it hard to perceive unless they were extremely close.
‘…How on earth did he find this guy?’
How could Soyeomra collide with such a unique aura unnoticed?
Could he possibly be more powerful than the Poison King?
That would be improbable.
Even if he were the century’s top genius, it was a reach.
Then doesn’t that mean there must be another explanation?
“I can hear you rolling those eyes from here.”
“…!”
Crack!
“Ack!?”
Another finger breaks.
The agony somehow intensifies since he’s already crippled.
“Wha… Why?”
“Oh, sorry, it’s a habit. I’m just used to breaking things while speaking. Trying to stop that is quite challenging.”
It’s not exactly a story delivered with a warm smile.
He has a habit of torturing others, huh?
‘Is this guy genuinely from respectable ranks?’
The man’s mind is filled with deepening doubts.
“Those bandits are suspiciously strong. Was it always like this?”
“…”
“Oh, I’m not asking. Don’t feel obligated to answer.”
Soyeomra’s voice grows sharper; already, the man feels sweat trickling down his back.
His voice remains somewhat high, sounding like one who hasn’t gone through puberty fully.
The tone has significantly softened compared to their first encounter.
But intuitively, he can tell that there’s something lethal lurking in that voice.
“Honestly, I wasn’t all that curious about what you guys were saying. I figured you’d simply end up spouting some obvious drivel.”
What he means is that he planned to kill them all from the inception.
So why…? Why resort to torture?
“I had to choose you. Someone timid, a little gnarled in the head, and obedient.”
“…What of that?”
“You want to live?”
At Soyeomra’s question, the man is at a loss for words.
Wanting to live? Of course, he did.
But the sheer presence of Soyeomra wearing that smile sent waves of terror through him.
“I won’t ask twice. Just answer.”
“I want to… Live! I want to live!”
Yet, he cannot let the anxiety consume him and takes a deep breath, forcing himself to respond.
Soyeomra nods, as if satisfied with the response.
“Oh, here’s my personal question: How many guys have you saved who said that to you?”
“…!”
“Well, thank goodness for your silence. That response will suffice. At least it grants me some sense of relief.”
Having never saved anyone, the man can’t help but wonder if he’s simply destined for death.
Soyeomra states this matter-of-factly but takes no further action.
What? Is he just going to end things this way?
The man’s brief relief unveils a new dread, an ominous realization.
‘Is this really… living?’
His ankles are crushed, rendering him unable to walk.
One hand has all its fingers battered.
Perhaps his hands could be patched, but his feet? No healer could mend those.
Living like this isn’t living at all.
Just as he thinks he’s turning from relief to despair, Soyeomra’s grip tightens around his neck.
What? Didn’t you say you’d let me go?
“Let me warn you, endure it. I can’t be gentle or kind like the Celestial Horse.”
“Celestial Horse? What do you mean? You… You promised to save me…!”
“I’ll save you. Naturally, if I expect you to do the job, I must ensure you are alive first.”
With that declaration, the man sees a remarkable change.
For some unexplainable reason, Soyeomra’s eyes, once red, begin shifting to a rich purple.
That hue is so strikingly beautiful, drawing his gaze effortlessly.
Even amid such a bleak, terrifying affair.
Transfixed, he gazes at Soyeomra.
“What’s your name?”
“Julbok… That’s what I’m called.”
“Julbok, good. Your task is singular. Return to Dangdeok with that dull gait of yours and deliver my messages. That is your duty.”
Just as the man contemplates what this could possibly mean, something stirs.
Rustle.
“…!”
He feels something intruding into his danjeon.
An unknown essence seeps in—just a touch. It’s—
Whooooom!
“Cough!!?”
In an instant, this energy swells, filling every part of his danjeon.
But that’s still not all.
Just after seizing total control of his danjeon, it bursts forth and penetrates Julbok’s heart.
Grrraaaah!
The excruciating pain he experiences eclipses any agony he’s ever felt.
Could it be that Soyeomra is about to torture him to death despite previously promising survival?
Julbok reasons this wildly.
Unless—what else could explain this suffering?
‘I don’t want to die…!’
A desperate instinct for survival arises.
Julbok just wants to live.
And that is.
The very feeling Guyangcheon sought so dearly.
Becoming a demonic being is all about this transformation.
Whether that aspiration arises from revenge or a simple will to survive.
There needs to be a measure of desperation.
Otherwise, enduring this demonic transformation would be impossible.
Of course, someone with the identity of the Celestial Horse would probably have chosen a more benevolent approach.
Gu Yangcheon doesn’t intend to take such a route.
He simply cannot do it from the start.
This marks the second round, beginning with Namgung Cheonjun.
The realization hits:
To turn burdens into demonic beings without inflicting pain meant he has astonishing control to wield it.
No clue why the Celestial Horse would choose this path, but Gu Yangcheon has no desire to.
‘Some creatures don’t deserve such grace.’
Be they virtuous or vile, there’s no forgiveness for those who block the path intended.
That’s what he vowed.
The Green King was one of the most vicious demonic entities in a past life.
The same goes for his subordinates.
Killing and tormenting innocents is just one facet of their heinous acts committed under the guise of being a demon.
Watching any reactions from earlier reveals he bears no differences from those ruffians.
Gu Yangcheon, to some extent, doesn’t feel the need to blame him for it.
He too was a demon, and if war served as an excuse for killing countless people by his own hand, it means it’s merely an expression of framed venting.
No desire to offer any justifications.
As moments tick by, changes evolve within the man known as Julbok.
Though his outer appearance seems unchanged, Gu Yangcheon quickly discerns.
The demonic energy clings tightly to his danjeon and heart.
Julbok is now a demon in Gu Yangcheon’s hands, an observation causing a frown on Gu Yangcheon’s face.
‘He barely managed to hold on at a second-rate level.’
If he hadn’t been at a specified level, the mana would’ve annihilated him without mercy.
Gu Yangcheon has closely observed Julbok’s survival instinct and skill level since the start.
Hence, this choice felt appropriate from the beginning.
The moment he reaches the peak of first-rate, control over the demon would falter.
The best he could manage being to enforce a speakers’ ban or prevent betrayal.
Not to mention the influence surrounding that person.
In this regard, Julbok fit perfectly.
A level of skill ideal for Gu Yangcheon to maneuver.
Noticing the difference in his own body, perhaps Julbok comprehended instantly; he gazes at Gu Yangcheon with wide, confused eyes.
It seems he senses the transformation in his body now endowed with demonic qualities.
His once crippled leg begins to move again.
It isn’t fully healed.
The energy merely knitted the broken bones back together for the time being.
Seeing this phenomenon, Gu Yangcheon rises, maintaining a calm outer demeanor, but his insides brim with astonishment.
‘Was such a feat possible?’
He understood demonic energy could work that way, yet realizing his own capabilities could manage the same?
Is this occurrence tied to Julbok’s lesser rank, or does a lower rank mean such feats wouldn’t be attainable?
Exploring that line of thought felt prudent.
For the present, this will suffice.
His current intent isn’t to heal another body with his power.
He stands up and directs his attention to the man.
“You have one task.”
Julbok stares at Gu Yangcheon, his nerves trembling.
Those eyes brim with both fear and awe.
He can’t discern why.
What makes the eyes of those who transform into a demon gaze upon him in such a way?
At the very least, he never looked at the Celestial Horse in that fashion.
He comprehends nothing of it and cares not.
Fixating solely on the safety of himself and those around him.
Gu Yangcheon continues, fixing his gaze upon Julbok.
“You’re to relay to Dangdeok everything I’ve said.”
This selection serves a purpose.
Julbok strains to catch what follows.
Julbok delivers this message.
“…Stop with the petty act and face me directly…you mere failure?”
He tells Dangdeok precisely the same line.
Kaang!
The massive stone chair effortlessly crumbles under the tense squeeze of a furious fist.
The surrounding air teeters as an overwhelming aura emanates from the person seated in the chair.
A brawny figure with deep green hair.
Chaeju Dangdeok, the fearsome leader of the bandits amassing in Gwimunsan, repeats the words he has just heard.
“That bloody husk told me to convey that message.”
“… Yes… Yes, Chaeju.”
Dangdeok gazes at the one who delivered this message.
What was it? Julbok?
A subordinate of that indomitable guy named Godong who had supposedly reached total mastery last year.
The mention of Godong twists Dangdeok’s brow.
He had dispatched that coward to scout the paths of the Tang Clan.
‘Everyone died, yet this worm crawls back alive?’
Hah!
Worse still, he heard that the artifacts sent with him were also lost.
Dangdeok can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
Crack.
Immediately after cracking a slight grin,
Dangdeok seizes the larger spear than his own resting beside him.
“…You know my name and dare to provoke me.”
Isn’t it Soyeomra?
A truly amusing fellow.
Dangdeok’s smile slithers across his face as he observes Julbok.
As he grins, the other bandits poised nearby flinch in fear, instinctively trembling.
“Julbok.”
“Yes… Chaeju.”
“Everything’s all well, you know.”
He continues with lingering questions.
“Now, why on earth did you return alive?”
“… Chaeju…?”
Julbok’s eyes reflect confusion at Dangdeok’s strict reprimands.
“If your brethren failed to complete their mission and perished, by all means, you should have joined them, you pathetic wretch.”
“Chaeju…! Please…!”
“Yet you dare to return, gallivanting around? You must have some audacity.”
Dangdeok snarls, lifting Julbok by the neck.
While Julbok wasn’t a fragile figure, he appeared woefully small compared to the imposing Dangdeok.
“A pathetic little pest… you’re of no use to me anymore.”
“Please save me, Chaeju! I beg you…!”
Julbok’s pleas feel frantic to the point of madness as he repeatedly cries for mercy.
And yet, despite witnessing the desperation, Dangdeok does not waver in strength.
“Go bow to your brothers now, you worthless dog.”
Crack!
With the echoing sound of a snapping bone, Julbok’s neck crumbles, signaling the end of his life.
That was just the beginning.
Boom!
“…Hmm?”
A strange tremor runs through the very body Dangdeok holds.
From the hollow, lifeless eyes, he’s sure the man is dead.
What is happening now?
“What’s this…?”
Just as Dangdeok raises an incredulous eyebrow at the unfolding scenery,
Boom!
With a thunderous explosion, blood erupts from Julbok’s mouth and sprays all over Dangdeok’s body.
“…”
In an instant, Dangdeok finds himself drenched in blood. Those standing nearby scramble to hand him cloths to clean himself off.
But Dangdeok merely scrubs his face with his enormous palm.
As he contemplates the absurdity,
Suddenly finding himself blood-soaked,
He can’t help but puzzle over how it came to be.
“Is this a provocation from the bastard who sent that worm?”
“Hahaha…”
Dangdeok begins to laugh uproariously as blood trickles down his face as he wipes it dry.
“Haha!”
After bellows of laughter echo around, Dangdeok slams a fist against the surface, still lost in disbelief.
“Is Soyeomra, is it?”
The person who dispatched Julbok to him. This reckless kid had the audacity to demand that he show up in person?
Dangdeok strides forward, recalling the outrageousness.
There’s no thought to wipe the soaking blood off anymore.
‘Had it been another day, I might have chosen to tread lightly.’
But with this provocation thrust upon him, he can do nothing but accept the challenge.
Dangdeok chuckles softly before quietly uttering,
“Prepare your weapons.”
And with that, those gathered jump into action, readying for a scuffle.
Among them, the most daunting aura of bloodlust emanates, indeed it belongs to Dangdeok.
*
With the rhythm of a meal disturbed, I pull back my head, feeling an unusual change.
“Oh.”
“What’s wrong?”
Wi Seol-ah tilts her head in curiosity as she serves a side dish atop my rice.
Noticing this, I shake my head slightly and grab a handful of rice to munch on.
“It’s nothing.”
Namgungbia and Mo Yonghee exchange glances, sensing that something’s amiss, but I have no intentions of answering any inquiries.
Instead, I merely click my tongue internally.
Tsk tsk.
‘I was going to save you, just like I promised, you know?’
The reason for this reaction is simple.
I realized that the fellow named Julbok has met his unfortunate end.
This is a consequence of the talisman bound to him.
The talisman placed on Julbok wasn’t solely for transmitting messages to Dangdeok.
I’d commanded that it should activate if he were in danger of being slain by Dangdeok.
His heart would explode and blood would spray forth.
Taking all into account, it seems that Julbok was killed at the hands of Dangdeok.
I didn’t strike him down myself.
I simply anticipated that if it was Dangdeok, he would call his subordinates to the slaughter in such a manner.
‘He must be furious now.’
Considering Dangdeok’s fiery personality, his rage must be quite evident.
‘All groundwork has been laid out.’
Whether or not Dangdeok chooses to arrive personally didn’t matter; at this point, I had set my plans in motion.
For now, all that’s left is to wait.
“Do you want some water?”
“Yeah.”
I scan my surroundings while sipping the water poured by Namgungbia.
It remains a forest, indistinguishable from the previous one—yet there’s a shift notable enough.
‘So, we’ve become a part of Sacheon’s territory, huh?’
Embarking on our journey, summer looms nearer.
Before we knew it, we’ve crossed into the territory of Sacheon, our intended destination.
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