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Chapter 15
For a moment, time seemed to stop. Baekseon couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Hair as white as if it had absorbed all the moonlight. Long eyelashes that lowered and lifted to reveal eyes as cold as thin ice.
A towering height of over six feet and broad shoulders. A flowing white robe that mirrored his hair—this was without a doubt the body that once belonged to Baekseon.
“How… is this… possible?”
Alive?
He was sure he had died. The body of “Manyugang” that had marched into the Demonic War had been reduced to rags, battered beyond repair. Even if Cheonrang had exhausted himself trying to revive him—even if his soul had somehow returned—the body was far too ruined to move again.
So how was “Manyugang” standing here, alive?
Baekseon gasped and instinctively took a step back. At that moment, “Manyugang,” who had been surveying his surroundings with emotionless eyes, locked gazes with him.
“…Ah.”
From Manyugang’s lips came a short exclamation, as if he recognized Baekseon. The lips that had been set in a firm line now curved faintly.
Why?
Baekseon faltered, taking another step back—
“Found you.”
The heavy voice fell from above, and a cold hand seized his wrist.
Startled by the sudden closeness of the familiar face, Baekseon’s breath caught in his throat. He widened his eyes, staring into Manyugang’s face.
“Wh-what…!”
Before he could say more, the other hand caressed his cheek.
The icy sensation pressed against his skin, and Baekseon froze on the spot.
The feeling of being utterly overwhelmed.
If this man so much as moved a finger, it felt like his head would fly from his shoulders. Fear rose from the pit of his stomach like prey before a predator.
“So this is what you looked like.”
Manyugang kneaded Baekseon’s face, and Baekseon swallowed dryly. His eyes seemed to see Baekseon’s face, yet it felt as if he were peering deeper—at something within.
“Wh-what are you…?” His voice trembled despite himself. Fear that this man might kill him swelled with every syllable.
Sensing his tension, Manyugang gave a soft laugh.
“Ah, apologies. I haven’t been awake long, so controlling my aura is difficult.”
And at once, the suffocating pressure around him lessened.
“We have much to talk about, don’t we?”
“…Pardon?”
“I’ve long wondered about you—someone who wields such great strength but still uses it for the weak. But before that…”
Manyugang looked around. Normally, no one could approach him due to his overwhelming aura. Yet here he was, standing close to Tang Baekseon, drawing everyone’s startled stares.
“We’ll need somewhere private.”
And without hesitation, he pulled Baekseon into his arms.
The sudden grip around his waist, the feel of that solid chest—then the rush of wind as his feet left the ground.
“W-wait!” Baekseon cried, panic-stricken.
But Manyugang ignored him and carried him away.
In the corner of a tavern, Baekseon retched into his hand. If not for the secluded spot, passersby would have sneered at him in disgust.
“So weak, it’s pathetic.”
Manyugang’s tone carried disappointment.
Baekseon steadied himself, wiped his mouth, and raised his eyes.
“…It really is Manyugang.”
Though he resisted admitting it, there was no denying it: the man before him was Manyugang—the strongest in the world of The Advent of the Heavenly Demon, Cheonrang’s true master, the Blood Rain Sword Demon himself.
“Is it strange, to see a dead man alive before you?”
Baekseon’s shoulders shook. He gave a small nod. Yes—it was strange.
This man was the strongest in existence. No matter how far Baekseon went, he could never defeat him. He might even be able to read his thoughts at will.
“Indeed, I too find it strange. I thought I could block all outside intrusions. How did you slip in so easily?”
He chuckled, covering his mouth with a long sleeve. The restrained motion carried an air of deadly menace. Baekseon swallowed again.
Fear.
When he had lived inside Manyugang’s body, he had felt no fear. But facing the real Manyugang now—his knees nearly buckled from it.
“Ah, but don’t be afraid. I didn’t come here to blame you.”
“…Then how… did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That I—the one who borrowed your body—am inside Tang Baekseon?”
At this, Manyugang chuckled softly.
“Borrowed body, yet you call me ‘great hero’? You can be less formal.”
“….”
“The body’s owner is Tang Baekseon, yes? I knew you were inside because your disciple left many traces in that cave.”
Following those traces had been simple. Manyugang spoke lightly, as if singing.
“He’s quite talented, your disciple. You never taught him demonic arts, yet he carried out multiple soul-summoning rituals alone.”
“….”
“By now, he must be in great turmoil.”
Manyugang chuckled again, hand at his lips.
What did he mean—“in turmoil”? Was the boy sick?
Baekseon looked at him expectantly, but Manyugang only sighed.
“Instead of only worrying about your disciple, could you spare me some attention?”
“…You said you’re not here to blame me, so why…?”
Manyugang studied his face. Those green eyes held confusion and fear.
“First, I want to know who crushed not only my body but also my will.”
“Second, I’m curious about the one who destroyed my meticulous plan with such a mischievous act.”
“…Your plan?”
“The annihilation of the Martial Alliance.”
Baekseon jolted violently. There had been no inner force in that voice—just the sheer weight of a being beyond human, enough to suffocate.
“While in my body, you must have felt it too—the injustice. No matter how much knowledge you used to save lives, all you received in return were blame and scorn.”
Yes. He knew. He felt it bitterly.
Rejected simply for being from the Demonic Sect. Smiling conversations that still carried isolation. A world where he belonged nowhere, unwanted by everyone.
“So I decided to kill them all.”
“….”
“First, the Hao Clan. Their baseless rumors disgusted me.”
He flicked his hand, and a wine bottle flew into his grasp. Calmly, he poured and drank before continuing.
“Next, the traitorous Kunlun Sect.”
“….”
“And finally, the Nine Great Sects and the Five Aristocratic Families. I would wipe them all out. But you—you never even considered killing anyone.”
That was why he was curious.
What kind of world did this foreign presence inside him see? Why had he not lashed out at injustice with overwhelming strength?
“I will live as I always have, little brother.”
Little… brother?
Baekseon blinked in shock, but Manyugang offered no explanation.
“I’ll be the villain, cutting down those who oppose me. I’ll seize the hands that beg for help and cast them into despair.”
That was who he was. And Baekseon, inhabiting his body, had lived an entirely different life.
“But you’ve shown me that even someone like me can be cherished… so now…”
Manyugang placed his hand on Baekseon’s abdomen.
“This time, you try to change my heart.”
And at once, searing heat surged into Baekseon’s core.
