* * *
Most sects with a long history had a strong influence from their council of elders, and the Slaughter Sect was no exception.
Unless it was an issue intertwined with the sect's interests, the authority of the sect leader did not hold much power.
—You and I both have arduous lives, so at the very least, our conduct should be joyful.
The teachings of Chivalrous Slayer.
These words resonated deeply with the young Kim Seon-hwi. They helped him endure the harsh training imposed by his collateral elder brother, Kim Jon-hwi, and his father, the sect leader of Slaughter Sect.
It also pleased his mother, whom he could only see on rare occasions.
Kim Seon-hwi's mother was of lowly birth. A child of common blood who was never recognized by the elders of Slaughter Sect.
She had neither a powerful background nor notable martial prowess. She simply made a living as a small-time merchant in the marketplace.
—The bloodline of the leader of the Slaughter Sect cannot be left to rot in the marketplace.
The elders of Slaughter Sect took her son from her.
From the moment Kim Seon-hwi took his first steps, his mother became someone who could only see him once every month or so, finding solace in the occasional moments when she could clap and smile as her son recited songs from the Shijing.
'I should memorize all of the Four Books and Five Classics.'
That was what young Kim Seon-hwi thought. His mother seemed to enjoy his playful displays of knowledge.
The boy protected his mother with his cheerful nature.
Even when he ran to her as she collapsed amidst a crowd, clutching her frantically in his arms, he smiled as he cried.
His sharpened senses had immediately understood the state she was in. Perhaps because he was born a natural assassin, he accepted death as it was and wished for her passing to be as peaceful as possible.
He thought that the last thing his mother saw should not be the ugly sight of her son weeping.
It had been a warm, sunlit day.
—Live a worthy life. You were born precious.
His mother held on to her consciousness until he arrived and spoke those words.
Kim Seon-hwi never figured out whether she meant that his status was noble or that she herself had cherished him dearly.
He couldn't ask for more. The moment she finished speaking, she passed away.
Upon investigation, it was found to be an accidental incident.
Some rogue from the thugs had kicked over his mother's stall, demanding a fee for using the space, and a trinket from the toppled goods had flown into her eye.
It had been a hairpin. A hairpin that young Kim Seon-hwi had personally sharpened and polished using the methods of Slaughter Sect.
"This is it."
Heon Wonchang's fingers spun the slender hairpin. Its bronze tip bore no adornments.
At a glance, it resembled the kind of long acupuncture needle that physicians occasionally used.
Hwooong—
Suddenly, a gust of wind, eerie like the wailing of ghosts, swept through the room.
The chamber was almost entirely sealed off. The bed, the chairs, everything was made of old stone.
"It was an accident?"
Lying on a table with one leg propped up, Lazy Flame Dragon asked in a flat tone. On one of the beds, Shin So-bin's frail body lay sprawled, motionless as if dead.
With each slow breath the girl took, the surrounding air pulsed with energy.
"A mere foot swing from some lowly thug carried light wave? Does that even make sense?"
"It was the work of an elder named Kim Yunsang. He orchestrated the incident to happen on the very day I was to visit my mother. He wanted to see if the illegitimate son of the sect leader had developed the qualities of an assassin, as taught by our esteemed sect. If I was promising, I would show cold-hearted composure."
"What did you do?"
"I found that bastard first and gouged out his eyes with my fingers. The sensation of them bursting wasn't particularly pleasant. But after learning the truth, I wondered if I did it because I hadn't been able to strike down the real culprit. So…"
Heon Wonchang grasped the hairpin lightly in one hand, speaking slowly.
The two of them continued their conversation without even looking at each other.
"…I shoved my middle finger into Kim Yunsang's eye as well."
"Your middle finger?"
"It's an insult, forming one's fingers into the shape of the san (山) character. In the far southeast, they call it squid-flicking. Even in the Western lands, it's used as an obscene gesture. It's quite historic. Being from a noble family, I suppose you wouldn't know much about street culture."
"And yet, despite growing up so refined, your tongue sure is sharp. In any case, an elder of Slaughter Sect fell prey to a single finger strike from a fledgling?"
"I had taken a few diluted drops of Azure Void Rockoil beforehand. With no restrictions placed on me, a single surprise attack was more than enough. At the time, I was already acknowledged for my talent in executing the first strike. That old man never expected the meek boy to suddenly lash out. I exploited that opening well."
"So, young Kim Seon-hwi was stronger than the famed Sacred Warrior Heon Wonchang?"
"In a single clash, perhaps. Though my body was left in shambles from the backlash of internal energy release, I still managed to take one of that mad elder's eyes. The price was three months of recovery."
"Hm…? There's an elder in your sect who's missing an eye."
"That's him."
Heon Wonchang confirmed. Lazy Flame Dragon tilted his head slightly.
"Why is he still alive? He murdered your mother."
"Our sect originated as a gatekeeping sect for the Heavenly Demon Tomb. Common sense does not apply here. Instead, I was the one who was harshly punished. For harming an esteemed figure within the sect. My elder brother, Jon-hwi, was punished alongside me."
"Kim Jon-hwi? Why was your collateral-line brother punished?"
"He was furious long before I even struck Kim Yunsang. When Kim Yunsang retaliated against me, Jon-hwi struck back with full force. As a result, we were both sentenced to six months of isolation training."
"That's absurd. What about your father?"
"You needn't address him so respectfully. My father was entirely devoted to the sect. He had abandoned my mother long ago, never acknowledging her as part of the family. To him, only Kim Seon-hwi and Kim Yunsang mattered. A woman he had once shared a moment with was nothing more than an outsider to the sect."
"What a fool."
"My thoughts exactly."
"What made you stay in such a sect?"
"…I never liked it. Only Jon-hwi was truly good to me. Even my father showed affection toward me."
"You've been looking grim ever since we arrived in Shaanxi."
Lazy Flame Dragon tapped his foot a few times, shaking his head.
"Oh, Sacred Warrior, Sacred Warrior. Now I see why you've lost your usual cheer since stepping onto this land. That lighthearted nature that once helped the young squad leader—what role do you even have left in the Radiant Demon Squad now?"
His archaic tone carried a provocative edge. He continued in a languid voice.
"I watched that fop Chivalrous Slayer. He seems eager to keep you here. You dismissed the idea at first, but after dealing with the Heavenly Net Formation of the Murong Clan, your demeanor changed. That persistent bastard's been all too cordial with you, too."
"Ridiculous. My presence here only disrupts the succession of the Slaughter Sect."
Heon Wonchang glared, but Lazy Flame Dragon remained unfazed.
"I had two I'd call true friends. If you mixed the one who played emperor with a sword and you, you'd get that gigolo Kim Jon-hwi. He's got a needlessly broad heart. No way he'd let inheritance matters shackle him."
"..."
"I don't know how many memories you have in this cursed land."
The shadow deepened in Lazy Flame Dragon's weary eyes as he narrowed them.
"You know that the young squad leader relies on you somewhat. If you lose even your wit and loyalty, what do you have left? Think it over carefully."
"No need for such pointless worries."
"Well, to me, that Chivalrous Slayer fellow seemed far more threatening than those foolish elders. As for the so-called Sacred Warrior of Desolate Fortress, Heon Wonchang, he was as soft as rotten fruit. From what I've seen of the martial world, those who are called 'grand heroes' tend to get swept up in events and die miserable deaths…"
"You'd best hope my seventy percent restriction takes its time lifting. Otherwise, you won't be able to run your mouth so carelessly anymore."
Lazy Flame Dragon didn't answer. He simply chuckled and propped his head up with interlocked fingers.
Heon Wonchang gazed at him for a moment before speaking slowly.
"Right now, compared to full strength, how much have you recovered?"
"Around thirty percent, I'd say. The Heavenly Net Formation of the Murong scoundrels was no joke."
Lazy Flame Dragon answered in an indifferent tone.
They had encountered a major incident the moment they entered Taiyuan.
First, they had seen a spectacle of over a hundred martial artists roaming the streets. Their faces were concealed by masks and disguises.
The regional magistrates and military officials were nowhere to be found, while unidentified experts, hiding their identities, ambushed Lazy Flame Dragon's party.
Lazy Flame Dragon quickly deduced their identity.
Thanks to his childhood amusement of spectating righteous sect gatherings, his knowledge was extensive.
He immediately saw through the unpredictable Illusory Sword technique unique to the Murong Clan. Even if they tried to conceal their martial arts, his Solar Divine Meridian vision didn't miss a thing.
But the attackers didn't care.
As long as their actions weren't publicly exposed, they charged in without hesitation.
The assailants were an elite force of unparalleled swordsmen. Naturally, the members of the Radiant Demon Squad and Slaughter Sect were forced to split apart.
The three members of the Radiant Demon Squad were separated. It seemed to be a calculated move by the enemy.
However, Lazy Flame Dragon alone slaughtered nearly twenty foes, managing to regroup his allies.
During the battle, he had even clashed with Murong Qihou, the Grand Ritual Sword wielder, second only to the head of the Murong Clan in martial prowess.
It had been a life-or-death situation.
When he had to block the technique Meteor Filling the Sky, he had genuinely come close to death.
The Grand Ritual Sword was among the most formidable combatants in the Eight Great Clans, and the Murong Clan's sword techniques, originating from the extreme frontiers, were infamous for their deadly beauty.
Had he not been lucky enough to counter with the Radiant Arts' Flame River, his body would have been torn apart.
"Luckily, that arrogant old bastard got distracted by a messenger pigeon. Otherwise, I'd be dead."
The noble young master, ever fated to an early grave, joked with a wry grin before shifting his gaze toward Shin So-bin, who lay deep in slumber, exhausted from exerting her internal energy to the limit.
"How long do you think she'll sleep?"
"How could a layman's eyes surpass a true expert's? Don't ask me what even Hwangbo Concubine wouldn't know."
"Break your restriction and stand your ground. We don't know when the Murong bastards will find this place. No matter how well-hidden the Slaughter Sect's core is… Didn't they already get exposed and wrecked during the Heavenly Demon Tomb Rebellion?"
"We're leaving soon regardless. This is the final trial. Once I receive the elders' acknowledgment, the mnemonics I've gathered will be complete, forming a single key."
"Good luck."
Lazy Flame Dragon muttered nonchalantly, closing his eyes.
Heon Wonchang didn't respond. He slowly stood up.
He glanced between Shin So-bin and Lazy Flame Dragon before silently turning and stepping out of the room.
* * *
The great city lay shrouded in silence.
With the local authorities subdued, the streets were patrolled by blade-wielding warriors of supernatural prowess.
Amidst this unsettling atmosphere, few commoners dared to go about their daily lives. They merely waited, hoping for the military or the swordsmen of Desolate Fortress to intervene.
The gates dividing the inner and outer regions of Taiyuan were no different—eerie and desolate.
Few people came and went.
Only horses, carriages, merchants, and escort guards barely passed through.
From atop the high pavilion overlooking the scene, the streets below seemed even more deserted.
"Your aura is positively radiant. It seems the imperial dogs have treated you well."
The voice was gentle, almost soothing.
"I still wonder… The covert channels were all severed, so you must have forcibly opened the scroll… Did they summon some peerless sorcerer to achieve it?"
Wrapped entirely in black robes, an old one-eyed crone spoke.
The Bamboo Sword Kim Yunsang. The elder overseeing Heon Wonchang's final trial.
"Administer the trial."
Heon Wonchang spoke, sensing the presence of Slaughter Sect elders lurking throughout the area.
Several high-ranking assassins of Slaughter Sect, those who had surpassed a certain level, were secretly stationed within the Murong Clan's domain.
Due to poor timing, there had been talks of delaying the trial, but Kim Jon-hwi, the Chivalrous Slayer, had insisted on proceeding.
"Very well, we shall."
Kim Yunsang's wrinkled eye curved in a gentle arc.
The elder of Slaughter Sect, the Bamboo Sword, was someone who rarely revealed her true thoughts.
Even when young Kim Seon-hwi had questioned her about his mother's death, even when she lost an eye to the boy, she had responded with calm indifference.
It was no different now.
"You only need to replicate my assassination exactly. Not a single movement can be off."
Her tone was oddly warm.
"Are you saying you'll demonstrate it first?"
"Indeed. Wait here. This is a rare event within the sect, one that even our vice-leader will not question in terms of righteousness and duty."
She was saying he would have to watch how she killed the victim and then copy it.
Heon Wonchang's hand, resting near the Desolate Sword at his waist, twitched slightly.
'This old crone… truly…'
As if sensing his inner conflict, Kim Yunsang curled her lips into a faint smile, remaining motionless for some time.
Was she trying to assert the dignity of a Slaughter Sect elder?
She seemed to be searching for a suitable example. As if she had deployed Turtle Breath Technique, she stood utterly still, unmoving, for an entire day.
Even as the moon waned and the sun slowly began its ascent, she merely continued gazing at the gates of Taiyuan.
Time passed.
Heon Wonchang, deciding to wait and see, stood by her side.
The moment she selected a target who wasn't a known figure of the Demonic Faction, he planned to put an end to this so-called trial, no matter the cost.
And so, just as the little owl that had arrived at dusk the previous day rode the ring of the dawn sun back into the sky—
"That one has quite the presence. He shall do."
The old woman's wrinkled finger pointed far off into the distance.
One of the figures just now passing through the city gates.
Among a group of three, one individual was drawing the eyes of the sparse onlookers in the desolate street.
A young boy, whose every step measured exactly the same length.
His jet-black hair, shimmering in the morning sunlight, cascaded down to his shoulder blades.
Clad in plain black robes without any ornamentation, he exuded an oddly overwhelming presence.
Yet, since he carried no discernible energy, he appeared to be merely someone of noble birth.
Snap!
In an instant, Kim Yunsang's form vanished.
"Stay and watch."
Her voice lingered like an unseen mist around him.
And so, Heon Wonchang truly remained still, silently observing.
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