Chapter 63
But no one revealed themselves.
“Don’t use me as an excuse anymore. You had your chance to come out nicely.”
With a warning tone, a dreadful killing intent burst out from Sau’s body.
The murderous aura—sharp enough to slice flesh and crush bone—swept through the alley. Those hiding nearby began to collapse one by one to the ground.
“Gasp!”
“Aaagh!”
Four men had been following Sau. Each carried a weapon.
One of them, apparently the most skilled, didn’t back down. He lunged forward with his sword aimed straight for Sau.
Sau, hands still clasped behind his back, merely shifted one step to the left, easily letting the attack pass by.
“H-how did you dodge that?”
Before the man could recover, Sau gripped his shoulder tightly. A scream of agony tore from the man’s throat almost instantly.
“Uwaaaah!”
Crunch!
The shoulder bone turned to powder and shattered completely.
Sau didn’t stop there. He reached for the man’s other shoulder and crushed it as well—ensuring he’d never use martial arts again.
“Gaaaah!”
“My ears hurt. You’re noisy.”
Sau’s other hand came down on the man’s face. His head caved in with a sickening crunch.
“G-guh…”
When Sau released his grip, the man’s limp body collapsed to the ground.
“My hands are filthy now…”
He looked down at the remaining three, who had witnessed everything.
A faint red glow flickered in his eyes.
None of them dared to run. They trembled violently, and one even lost control of his bladder.
“Now then. Speak. Why were you following me?”
The black-clad men could no longer form coherent words. All that came out were mindless groans—“Uuuh…”
“It can’t be helped. I’ll have to beat it out of you.”
Terrifying energy gathered in both of Sau’s hands.
There was no need to use his sword on small fry like these. A bit of demonic energy would suffice.
He thrust out his palm.
With a loud boom, the man who received the blow was pulverized—completely obliterated without a trace. The ground where he had been sitting caved in.
Heaven-Waste Demon Fist (Cheonhwang Magwon).
A martial technique from the Demonic Cult, used when one didn’t feel like drawing a sword—or when trying to avoid losing control to madness.
“U-ugh! Aaaagh!”
The remaining two men drooled uncontrollably, unable to withstand the pain. Their eyes rolled back; it looked as if they might die even without another strike.
“Why were you following me?”
One of them, barely clinging to consciousness, managed to stammer,
“Th-the g-gold… i-ingots…”
Ah. So they had been tempted by the gold he’d displayed at the inn.
“Your affiliation?”
“B-black… Society. P-please… spare us…”
Sau looked down at the groveling men with indifferent eyes.
So they followed me just for gold?
Worse, they belonged to the same organization as those worthless fools from before.
These rabble dared to act high and mighty. Sau found it irritating.
“Die.”
A powerful palm strike erupted from his hand.
The remaining two were crushed instantly, turning into sprays of blood.
Sau silently walked out of the alley, now littered with bloody remains.
What is Baek Garim doing? Why is he letting scum like this run rampant?
Baek Garim.
Sau’s right-hand man—currently infiltrating the Zegall Clan, hiding his identity as a demonic cultivator.
The Zegall Clan had fallen into chaos: the young heir Zegall Sagun was dead, and even his son Zegall Haesu had gone missing.
Baek Garim, offering his help during that turmoil, had gained the clan’s trust. Rumor said he was especially favored by the clan leader, Zegall Cheon.
Zegall Cheon even appointed him as commander of the clan’s armed forces—and sometimes sent him as the clan’s representative to the Martial Alliance Council.
A demonic cultivator attending a meeting meant to exterminate the Demonic Cult—how absurd.
But Sau hadn’t tried to stop him.
If Sau’s demonic energy was for battle, Baek Garim’s strength lay in strategy. He was both a fighter and a brilliant tactician.
And his martial skill wasn’t lacking either—he was even stronger than Sau.
Moreover, Baek Garim had never once made a wrong decision.
This time would be no different. The clever man would manage fine. If trouble arose, it would likely be because of Sau himself.
There must be a reason those idiots are swaggering around near the Zegall estate talking about “exterminating the Demonic Cult.”
Since he was already in Yangyang, and had found the Golden Divine Maiden, Sau decided he should meet Baek Garim before leaving.
He would ask why the Black Society was being allowed to roam freely—and whether Baek Garim had achieved his goal within the Zegall Clan.
Conveniently, one of Baeksam’s companions was from the Zegall Clan, so visiting them wouldn’t be difficult.
It’s been about half a shichen (one hour).
Sau flicked his spotless cloak and walked back toward the inn.
His face was utterly expressionless.
As soon as Sau returned to the inn, Soso stood before him and declared,
“We’re going to Wudang.”
Then she cautiously watched his reaction.
Sau sat down where he’d been earlier and asked,
“Reason?”
“Do you remember the boy you fought with, Dodong? He’s from Wudang. We’re taking him back.”
Sau’s slightly unfocused gaze turned to Zegall Haesu.
“Hmm. And you, Zegall Haesu—aren’t you going to visit your family?”
“Sau Sohyup asks as if he doesn’t know me.”
“The Idle Young Master, Zegall Haesu.”
“…So you do know.”
“Lazing about, one with your bed, wasting your days away…”
“S-stop! You seem to know me too well, let’s leave it at that!”
“You’re not going back to the Zegall Clan?”
Zegall Haesu looked puzzled by Sau’s persistence.
It’s like he wants me to go there. Maybe he’s the one with business at Zegall Clan.
But Haesu had his reasons for avoiding home.
He opened his fan with a graceful flick.
“Fine fan, isn’t it?”
“It’s no ordinary fan.”
“Indeed. It can block most attacks. The frame is made from the hide of a spiritual creature.”
“The Ten-Thousand-Year Venom-Horned Serpent, right?”
“…!”
Haesu’s eyes widened.
He was right—the fan was made from the hide of that very creature, a serpent-shaped spiritual beast.
He hadn’t even touched it, yet Sau identified it with a single glance—and didn’t seem the least impressed.
If it had been Namgung Jin, he would’ve boasted endlessly about his keen insight.
…As expected, the Namgung brother lacks subtlety.
Haesu shook his head.
“So, what does that fan have to do with the Zegall Clan?”
“This fan belonged to my father. I… stole it. Hahaha! So I can’t go back. If I return, I’ll have to give it back and get quite the scolding.”
As he confessed honestly, his face fell.
I should’ve stolen a few more heirlooms while I was at it.
He regretted leaving some treasures behind—but not enough to risk going home.
Even if his father had mellowed after his brother’s abduction, he was still a tiger of a clan head.
If he discovered his heirloom missing, there’d be hell to pay…
“….”
Clicking his tongue in regret, Haesu noticed Sau’s cold, disdainful gaze fixed on him.
