Chapter 39
Jegal Haesu bristled at Namgung Jin’s words and shot back.
“Namgung, young hero—what you said wasn’t wrong, but aren’t you taking me a little too lightly?”
“If you don’t want to be looked down on, then get stronger.”
“I don’t want to be looked down on either, that’s not why—!”
Namgung Jin cut off Jegal Haesu’s agitated reply.
“I’m not dismissing your earnest wish to become stronger. But can a person be protected by will alone?”
“I’m not denying what you say. I know my situation better than anyone. But shouldn’t you, as the young lord of the Namgung family, speak with proper courtesy?”
Jegal Haesu sneered just enough to needle Namgung Jin, invoking the Namgung family’s young lord.
Namgung Jin, however, didn’t back down an inch.
“How is mentioning an important fact discourteous? I think speaking around it would be the impolite thing to do.”
“You must have been tired of pretending not to look down on me in front of Lady Baek all this time?”
“Jegal, don’t twist my words into sarcasm.”
“I only spoke an important truth.”
“Please—don’t make the same choice as my uncle.”
“…I’d rather die than collude with the demonic cult.”
“Whether you die or not, I will protect my benefactor. If you can defeat me, then I’ll give up.”
“…….”
Jegal Haesu, who had argued back without yielding, fell silent.
He only bit his lower lip and looked hurt—since there was no way he could beat Namgung Jin.
“Then I’ll take that as agreement.”
Namgung Jin’s eyes flashed bright even in the dim dusk.
It was a steady look that meant he wouldn’t retract his judgement of Jegal Haesu no matter what was said, and he wouldn’t let his decision be overturned.
“Sigh……”
Jegal Haesu sighed, and Namgung Jin resumed the step he had paused.
Soon Jegal Haesu also began to walk. He didn’t want to stay with Namgung Jin right now, but he had to meet Sami.
Yet as he walked, his feelings grew more complicated.
He felt hurt that Namgung Jin had looked down on him… and above all, he felt wronged.
‘I want to become strong too…’
But because of his Takmaek disorder, it wasn’t by his will but by the sky’s indifference that he couldn’t cultivate martial skill.
Wouldn’t Namgung Jin, as a fellow martial artist, understand that? Instead, he had painfully pressed the sore spot.
Namgung Jin even suspected that he might collude with the demonic cult.
That hasty suspicion had truly offended him.
‘I’ll cure my illness no matter what, and one day I will definitely defeat Namgung Jin.’
Jegal Haesu, unlike his usual self, kindled a fighting spirit. If he could, he wanted someday to surpass Namgung Jin.
In Hobeok’s limitless expanse, there was a ferry crossing an endlessly unfolding river.
The ferryman was a man missing one arm, yet the boat did not rock at all.
Aside from the ferryman, there was a passenger on the ferry.
The passenger was a man wearing a deep black hat.
He sat at the bow of the ferry, lightly flicking the river’s surface with his fingertips.
But the words that came from the man’s mouth were anything but light.
“I thought since Hubeok Peng was handled well, Namgung’s matter would go the same way… I must have placed too much hope in the Grand Lord.”
At that reproach, the ferryman dared not raise his head.
“…This matter only required the elimination of Namgung Jin; it was not planned to destroy the entire Namgung clan… My fault, Leader.”
“But at the very least, shouldn’t you have brought back one of the Namgung family’s young lord’s arms?”
“I didn’t expect Namgung Seonyul to pretend to go to the Martial Alliance. If that sly man hadn’t been there, Peng Seojin would have taken Namgung Jin’s head.”
“…….”
The man in the black hat, called the Leader, did not answer.
Instead, he flicked a droplet with more force than before.
The droplet flew with vigor and struck a leaping fish dead on.
Pff—!
A sound of rupture, not at all befitting a fish, rang out.
The fish shattered into pieces from a single small droplet, leaving nothing identifiable.
The ferryman flinched.
‘What an incredible Finger Flick Technique.’
He hadn’t felt any transferred internal energy, yet the destructive power far exceeded imagination.
If one concentrated internal energy in the motion, it could probably pulverize a person in an instant.
Perhaps the next thing to be shattered would be the ferryman himself.
Unlike the startled ferryman, the man in the black hat remained calm.
Only his voice had grown sharper than before.
“Grand Lord, how long will you keep making excuses?”
The ferryman called the Grand Lord was Sogma-gi.
He was troubled because Namgung Seonyul had completely seen through the scheme Sogma-gi had written to Namgung Seonyul, and things were ruined.
Not only had he failed to achieve his purpose, he had suffered greater losses than expected.
Namgung Seonyul had even pretended to go to the Martial Alliance to gauge why the suspicious summons had come.
Because of that, Sogma-gi’s whole plan collapsed.
He had lost Namgung Hyuk, who would have slowly shaken the Namgung family from within, and even Peng Seojin—whom they had kidnapped during the Arm-Blood Turmoil—was now gone.
Peng Seojin had been a usable piece among those who had gone mad trying to learn the Ten-Thousand Demon technique but failed—yet had some value.
The oar in Sogma-gi’s hand tightened.
‘If I had at least brought back one arm of Namgung Jin, the Leader would have praised me… I will avenge Namgung Jin who brought me disgrace.’
Filled with anger, Sogma-gi’s thoughts turned immediately to events of a few days ago.
Before sending the madmen into the Namgung family, Sogma-gi and his party had visited Hubeok Peng.
‘At that time, I still had the Leader’s favor!’
The scene of that rapturous recognition replayed vividly in Sogma-gi’s head.
Five days earlier, Hubeok Peng.
Hubeok Peng, located in Bejing (Beijing) of Hubeok Province, had a funeral-like atmosphere from five years ago when Peng Seojin was kidnapped until now.
Even a year ago, when the Blade Emperor Peng Zhiliang sustained injuries while annihilating the Demonic Cult’s Imagaak, his internal injuries had not healed, adding to the gloom.
Peng Zhiliang’s meridians had been damaged by that incident, so his true qi wouldn’t gather.
Of course, he was a master approaching the pinnacle—if he wished, he could take time to heal.
But the problem was the heart.
Guilt at failing to rescue the beloved Peng Seojin, the helplessness of knowing Peng Seojin was being used by the cult yet not being able to find him…
Those emotional burdens ate at him and slowed his recovery.
Today was no different.
Deep in the night while everyone slept, Peng Zhiliang sat listlessly in the hall of the household head and thought of Peng Seojin.
‘Where should I look for that child?’
Of course, being depressed from internal injuries didn’t mean he did nothing.
Peng Zhiliang had worked to learn the locations of the other two corners of the Cult, and had cooperated with the Martial Alliance to get information on the cult.
But he had found no notable information in a year.
Repeated efforts yielding nothing left him unbearably powerless.
“Sigh.”
He sighed, and at that moment a voice buzzed and resonated in his ear.
[Do you want to find Peng Seojin?]
