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chapter 50
At the gate of Mount Heng Sect lay fifty-nine corpses.
Most were unfamiliar faces, but one or two were people they recognized.
The sect leader of Mount Heng, the elders, and the second-generation disciples standing below them looked anything but cheerful as they gazed at the bodies.
“These men are Beomcheondo’s Lee Man-yeong and Hwangryong-gon’s Wang Iso.”
“And this one is Elder Hyeon Taeseong, the Third Elder of Cheonmyeong Villa.”
An elder of Mount Heng who had ties with Cheonmyeong Villa recognized Hyeon Taeseong.
“These seem to be warriors of the Geomcheon Sect.”
He said so after noticing the characters “Geomcheon” embroidered on the left chest of their robes.
“But as for these… I do not know.”
He was referring to the assassins of the Salgeomdan.
Since Cheonmyeong Villa deliberately concealed their ties with the Salgeomdan, many in the martial world did not know of their existence.
“Why on earth…?”
“According to the great hero Jeok Hwamyung, Cheonmyeong Villa’s second young master, Hyeon Jinmyeong, had practiced demonic arts. And the young lord who traveled with him, Lord Geomryeong, killed him.”
So Hakseon repeated what he had heard.
“The second young master of Cheonmyeong Villa?”
“That is what they say.”
“I cannot believe it. Cheonmyeong Villa is a righteous faction, the pride of Guangdong. Its second young master, who is highly respected throughout the province—why would he stoop to learning demonic arts?”
Elder Cheolsong, who was acquainted with Cheonmyeong Villa, protested.
“Yet I sensed no lies in their words.”
Sect Leader Wang Seokji of Mount Heng frowned, clearly displeased. After all, this had happened on their own mountain.
Not just one or two, but nearly sixty people had been slain—including renowned masters of the martial world, and even an elder of Cheonmyeong Villa.
“Jeok Hwamyung’s words cannot be taken at face value. He stands between orthodox and unorthodox.”
“But his leaning is still toward the righteous.”
Cheolsong and So Hakseon spoke as if defending him.
“And where are they now?”
“They are resting at the Guest Hall.”
“I must meet them myself. Send word to Cheonmyeong Villa—tell them to dispatch men to collect the bodies.”
Cheolsong bowed.
“Guide me.”
So Hakseon led him toward the Guest Hall.
In the Guest Hall of Mount Heng, Lord Geomryeong’s group was resting. Yu Ak-gun wore a face full of dissatisfaction.
“My lord, why do you put yourself through this? Do you truly believe they will take our word for it?”
“And if not?”
“Human arms bend inward. The orthodox Mount Heng Sect will trust the words of elders tied to Cheonmyeong Villa more than the testimony of a man caught between the orthodox and unorthodox.”
Geomryeong glanced at Jeok Hwamyung.
“He’s right. They won’t simply believe me—they’ll want confirmation. By now they must have sent word to Cheonmyeong Villa. And until men arrive, they’ll want us to remain here.”
“Then this does not bode well for us.”
“At the very least…”
Geomryeong nodded.
“Elder So Hakseon requests entry.”
A voice called from outside. When they stepped out, many people were waiting—Geomryeong and his companions knew they were the sect leader and elders of Mount Heng.
“We came to have a word,” said Sect Leader Wang Seokji.
“Shall we speak inside?” Jeok Hwamyung, not Geomryeong, took the lead in answering.
“I have heard much of your name—that you lean strongly toward the righteous path,” Wang Seokji said.
Jeok Hwamyung realized everything was unfolding just as he had expected.
“What is it you mean to say? That you doubt my words?”
“Not exactly. But it is rather unexpected that Hyeon Jinmyeong, the second young master of Cheonmyeong Villa, would study demonic arts. We merely wish to confirm the matter.”
Though politely phrased, it amounted to: we do not believe you.
“What is it you wish to confirm?”
“Not from you, but from the young man.”
“That is excessive,” Yu Ak-gun cut in.
The greater the orthodox lineage, the more strictly they observed hierarchy and seniority. Such ranks upheld order within the orthodox factions and laid the foundations of their prestige.
By Geomryeong’s standing, he was equal in rank to Mount Heng’s sect leader himself. After all, his master—Gun Ilsan, hailed as the First Sword of Mount Heng—once called Jeonmo Yakbing his senior sister.
Knowing this well, Yu Ak-gun stepped forward.
“My lord does not—”
“Yu, enough. Let us hear them out first,” Geomryeong interjected.
“My lord!”
“Listen first. Then we will speak. Please, go ahead—I will answer plainly.”
Looking straight at Sect Leader Wang Seokji, Geomryeong spoke.
Because of Yu Ak-gun’s words, Wang Seokji’s expression had hardened.
“They say you killed Hyeon Jinmyeong. Is that true?”
“It is.”
“And why?”
“Because he practiced the demonic art Shura Heavenly Burst.”
“Shura Heavenly Burst?”
“Yes. At the level of Five Stars—he had already reached the stage where the demonic art was devouring him.”
Wang Seokji locked eyes with Geomryeong, who did not flinch or look away.
“Where did this happen?”
“In Shinchang’s pavilion.”
“I see… If you defeated one who had mastered Shura Heavenly Burst at Five Stars, then your own martial attainment must be considerable.”
“Of course.”
“Very well. That is enough.”
It was almost like a brief interrogation.
“So you still do not believe me.”
“It is not disbelief—only that such a matter is too grave to judge from one side alone.”
Which, however phrased, still implied: I do not believe you.
“That is fair. Then may I make a request of the Sect Leader?”
“Speak.”
“I wish to meet the Grandmaster of Mount Heng, the First Sword, Gun Ilsan.”
Wang Seokji gave him a questioning look.
“At least I should have one ally, should I not?”
He regarded Geomryeong with suspicion, then replied:
“That is impossible.”
“And why?”
“My master has lived in seclusion on Yongchuk Peak for many years.”
“Then please deliver this message instead.”
“What message?”
“That the beauty of Mount Heng lies not in its peaks, but in the heart.”
Wang Seokji looked bewildered at the cryptic words, but nodded.
“Convey these words to the Grandmaster,” he ordered So Hakseon.
Bowing, So Hakseon left the Guest Hall.
“It may be uncomfortable for you to remain here. But until doubts are cleared, I ask you to endure it. Better to dispel suspicion and walk freely than to carry suspicion wherever you go.”
The words sounded reasonable, but the hidden meaning was plain.
Still, Geomryeong and his companions chose to comply.
“So be it.”
Yongchuk Peak, the highest summit of Mount Heng, was sheer rock, its upper half perpetually veiled in clouds so thick that the summit could not be seen from below.
So Hakseon’s steps were light as he ascended toward the peak that few humans could climb.
Beneath a cliff just below the summit lay a small cave.
Without hesitation, So Hakseon leapt down toward it, descending as naturally as a bird riding the wind. At the entrance, he bowed deeply, showing the utmost respect.
“It is So Hakseon.”
No reply came.
“If you are here, why stand outside instead of entering?”
Only when a voice drifted out from within did he step into the cave.
“After so many years, what brings you here? Has Mount Heng fallen into peril?”
“No, Grandmaster.”
Inside sat an elderly man.
Though his frame was frail, the light in his eyes was purer and clearer than any other. His long beard flowed down to his chest. With a gesture, he bade So Hakseon sit.
When So Hakseon seated himself, the elder asked again:
“Then why seek me?”
“Demonic arts have resurfaced.”
At those words, Gun Ilsan’s body trembled faintly.
Thirty years ago, he had experienced firsthand the terror of demonic arts. He knew better than most what such a threat meant.
“Is it true?”
“It is.”
“Then… has someone yet again failed to abandon ambition, seeking to plunge the world into bloodshed?”
His voice was heavy with worry.
“But there is something strange…”
So Hakseon recounted everything that had transpired. Gun Ilsan’s face grew grave.
“Then the demonic arts have spread across both orthodox and unorthodox alike.”
“Yes. And the youth who slew Hyeon Jinmyeong… he asked to meet you, Grandmaster.”
“He asked to see me?”
“Yes. He sent a message for you: that the beauty of Mount Heng lies not in its mountains, but in the heart.”
Gun Ilsan wondered if he had misheard. He asked again, and So Hakseon repeated the words. A third time, and still the same.
At last, ripples stirred in the old man’s eyes—ripples of deep longing.
“He said that?”
“He did.”
Gun Ilsan nodded slowly.
“Bring him to me… No, I shall go down myself. Lead the way.”
So Hakseon stared in shock.
What could those words mean, that they would move the Grandmaster to break over a decade of seclusion and descend Mount Heng?
“What are you waiting for?”
“Y-yes, Grandmaster!”
So Hakseon rose quickly, and Gun Ilsan rose with him.
“I will lead the way.”
“Sect Leader! The Grandmaster has descended from Yongchuk Peak!”
So Hakseon reported to Wang Seokji that Gun Ilsan was meeting Lord Geomryeong’s group at the Guest Hall.
“Master himself?”
In the ten years since his seclusion on Yongchuk Peak, the Grandmaster had not descended once. That he had done so now, for a single cryptic message from Geomryeong, stirred Wang Seokji’s curiosity all the more.
“We cannot know what they speak of, can we?”
“No, Sect Leader.”
Wang Seokji nodded, rising to his feet. His master, the Grandmaster, was present—of course he must pay his respects.
“Tell the elders that the Grandmaster is at the Guest Hall.”
“Yes, Sect Leader.”
As So Hakseon went to summon the elders, Wang Seokji himself set out for the Guest Hall.
