On that last day, dozens of the Murim had come to seize the lives of Woon-seong and his master. If you added up the number of men who were part of the siege, it would actually exceed 500. Revenge against all of them was unreasonable by the power that Woon-seong currently held. Even if he regained his former power, even if he reached the same level as his master, he would fail.

That’s why I will use the Cult of the Heavenly Demon.

The Cult would be better than an individual. In fact, half of Murim was already the Cult’s enemy, so there was nothing wrong with using them.

Let’s not be in a hurry. Don’t rush this.

It was enough even if he had to take a long time. As long as he could spear through their hearts in the end, it was enough. 

The first step is to strengthen my power in the Cult of the Heavenly Demon.

Woon-seong opened his eyes and brought out the book. He opened it to the last chapter and brought it near the burning fire before his eyes. As the heat of the flame reached the last sheet of paper, translucent letters began to appear on the page. The information which had been written with a special dye appeared. 

How the Sandstorm of Death had grown in the last five years. Who the officials and important people were. Their movements and strongholds. The Cult had a very detailed record of their observations. 

His eyes shrank as they scanned the paper. An unbelievable name was discovered. The current leader of the Sandstorm of Death, who joined five years ago, was believed to be the ‘Sword of Men’, Mae Hong-sung, one of the Three Swords of Qingcheng.

Three Swords of Qingcheng!

Woon-seong smiled brightly at the name of an enemy he had found in an unexpected place, revealing his fangs. His face was darker than ever before.

The ‘Sword of Blue Clouds and Red Sunset’. This swordsmanship, named for the style like the sun and clouds, is considered to be one of the most difficult styles to learn alongside the Shaolin’s ‘Three Swords of Dharma’, the Wu Tang Clan’s ‘Wise Sword of Taiji’, the Nangong’s ‘Sword Form of the Emperor’, and Mount Hua’s ‘Divine Sword of Purple Sunset’. If it could be passed on to one person in each generation, it was considered a good result. 

The current successor of the Qingcheng’s Martial Division was Qingcheng’s Great Elder, the First Apprentice, Song Chi-hak. Ever since he was a child, he was chosen as the ‘Sword of Heaven’ of the Three Swords of Qingcheng and learned everything they had. When he became a Great Elder, he raised a new line of the Three Swords of Qingcheng. His disciples were the current ‘Sword of Heaven’, ‘Sword of Earth’, and ‘Sword of Men’. 

Woon-seong climbed up a rocky hill. The Murim knew the Qingcheng as people who would lead the new generation, but he also knew their dirty truth. Their duality had been shown to him very clearly in his past life. With one of them here to meet his spear, Woon-seong was naturally joyful.

But why is there one of the Three Swords of Qingcheng here?

Woon-seong stopped at the top of the hill. Strictly speaking, this area was out of the Qingcheng Sect’s reach. To be more precise, the area was so remote that it was unnecessary to send one of the Three Swords of Qingcheng.

The boy tapped his chin. It was five years ago that the ‘Sword of Men’ Mae Hong-sung had joined the Sandstorm of Death, and five years ago, the Sandstorm of Death suddenly grew in strength.

Woon-seong shook his head quietly. There were no coincidences in Murim. You had to think like that in order to live. If something seemed like a coincidence, it was better to think and move carefully. Only that way could you survive longer in the world of Murim. 

Woon-seong bit his lip. There was definitely something going on under the surface, he just wasn’t sure what. 

Then I can just catch him and ask him.

A run-down temple was located on the rocky hill he had been climbing. This is where the bandits were staying. Woon-seong grabbed his spear from where it was strapped loosely to his back. Within a few steps, he could see the entrance. A decaying wooden door barely blocked the wind at the entrance. Beyond that, the boy could feel the presence of some members of the Sandstorm of Death. However, he could not feel that of the Sword of Men.

Woon-seong moved smoothly. He killed the lookout, flew inside like the wind, and slid up to the pillar that supported the roof. 

“Hahahahaha. Bring more alcohol!”

“Are there no women? Do we have any women?”

The men were drinking alcohol, with their plundered belongings piled up inside. Woon-seong’s eyes glanced over them. Perhaps the Sword of Men was away, but that wouldn’t give him the chance to escape his fate at the hands of the boy. Either way, they would all be killed. 

Save one for interrogation, kill everyone else.

Woon-seong closed his eyes for a moment. Once he opened them, they were gold, like that of a tiger’s at night. He then dropped his body to the floor below, with no consideration of his surroundings. The bastards of the Sandstorm of Death faced a disaster they had never seen before, the disaster called Hyuk Woon-seong. 

It was a complete one-sided slaughter. The boy moved like a ghost and avoided their swords. His body was like a shadow that faded away and their swords would pass through his body. Shortly afterwards, he would melt back into existence and sweep them away with his spear. He had activated his murky ‘intimidation qi’, stimulating and grabbing at the bodies of the bandits, who shook and dropped like flies. Waist, chest, thighs, shoulders — these bandits were sliced all over the body and fell. There was not a single one of them that could avoid Woon-seong’s attacks. 

But some of them had not yet fallen completely and continued to scream, “What a monster!”

They’re pretty strong for ordinary bandits. 

In addition, Woon-seong believed some of them could use inner strength and practiced Taoist qi. Take, for example, the guy charging at him now. However, the guy flew backwards faster than he had run over, and was smashed into the wall of the temple. The walls of the ruined building collapsed into rubble from the impact. 

Woon-seong stared at the fallen men before him with a weird gaze. 

“Who did you learn martial arts from?” He already had a good guess, but asking was for the sake of certainty.

When asked, the man on the ground shook his head, groaning. Woon-seong spared him no mercy and slashed his chest apart. He then moved towards another one. 

“I ask again, who taught you?”

At this moment, Woon-seong was a king of terror even though he was not using his ‘intimidation qi’. The bandit in question trembled with a white face. 

“Well, it was Master Chuk.”

The name of the one he was looking for was Mae Hong-sung, not a Master Chuk. However, it was not possible to rule out the possibility of an alias.

“Does this Master Chuk have a thin chin, bushy beard, and thick eyebrows?”

Would this description be correct? 

The man was trembling. “How the hell do you…? Who are you? Are you from the government?!”

Woon-seong grinned. “Then let me continue to ask you. Mae Hong-sung, no your Master Chuk, where is …?”

Originally he was trying to find out more, but he stopped talking. There was no need to continue asking. With his spear pointed to the closed the door, Woon-seong watched as it opened and a man entered. 

“What the hell is going on?!”

Woon-seong turned his head to see the man’s face and welcomed him with a greeting, “It’s been a long time, Master Chuk.” 

The man was a bit older than he remembered, but it was obvious. He glanced at the enemy that he had been reunited with after ten years. The Sword of Men, Mae Hong-sung.