Chapter 1. The Deaths of Two Men
The wind passed between the towering cliffs of Manjangjeolae, sharpening until it became like countless blades.
A young man stood unsteadily at the very edge of the cliff, enduring those blade-like winds from every direction.
Whenever a fierce gust swept past him, a mist of blood rose around his body.
As if licking its lips, Manjangjeolae swallowed the pink-red blood mist after spitting out another wave of cutting wind.
Jaha felt as though the endless cliff had sucked every drop of moisture from his body.
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, but he no longer had enough strength even to spit it out.
Even swallowing the blood rising from inside him had become difficult.
Blood continued to pour from the wound in his abdomen, which he was pressing with his left hand, soaking the lower half of his clothes red.
The blood overflowed onto his shoes, forming pools along his footprints before flowing over the cliff behind his heels.
"That's enough now, Cult Leader."
An elderly man spoke as though gently advising the young man.
"I can't do that. If I'm going to die, I should at least drag one more bastard to the underworld with me."
At the young man's words, an old man with a magnificent white beard clicked his tongue.
"What a vicious little brat."
A middle-aged man wearing a crane-feather robe responded.
"He's still the Cult Leader. You should watch your words."
The white-bearded old man scoffed.
"Oh, please. Aren't you the Sword Heavenly Demon who put the most holes in that young Cult Leader's body?"
"Even so, since he's about to die, we should at least treat him like a Cult Leader."
The Sword Heavenly Demon replied as though he were generously granting Jaha a final favor.
The young Cult Leader slowly looked over the seven Heavenly Demons surrounding him.
They were known as the Seven Heavenly Demons, the strongest warriors of the Demonic Cult.
Jaha's vision was already beginning to blur.
Still, there was one thing he wanted to know.
"At least tell me why I have to die."
One of the Heavenly Demons answered.
"There are plenty of reasons. First, you're too young to become the Great Heavenly Demon. The previous Cult Leader was at least powerful enough to command us, but you're far too weak. And we have no intention of following the previous Cult Leader's final wishes."
Jaha's eyes hardened.
"Then you intend to throw away my father's last wish?"
The man laughed.
"His last wish? To maintain peace in the martial world?"
He continued with open contempt.
"That's the biggest reason you're dying."
"We don't care about peace in the martial world. Why do you think we're called the Demonic Cult? The Demonic Cult should act like the Demonic Cult."
"Even if all seven of us attacked together, we couldn't defeat the previous Cult Leader. That's why we've endured all this until now."
"But there's no reason for us to endure anymore."
"Our current Cult Leader is nothing more than a brat who has barely passed twenty years of age. Your martial arts aren't even enough to defeat one of the Cult's Ten Pavilion Masters."
"So tell me, why should we continue holding ourselves back?"
Perhaps because these were going to be Jaha's final moments, they were unusually generous with their explanation.
The Blade Heavenly Demon, a man with thick sideburns, spoke next.
"You've still had the chance to act as Cult Leader for three months. That should be enough to keep you from holding a grudge after death."
The young Cult Leader, Jaha, shouted with the last of his strength.
"Even after I die, I won't leave you bastards alone!"
Another Heavenly Demon calmly replied.
"It's time for you to die. Go join the previous Cult Leader."
Jaha did not even have enough strength left to lift his sword.
He could not even cut his own throat.
Still, Jaha made a decision.
If he had to die, then he would die with dignity.
"I won't die by the filthy hands of bastards like you."
His eyes burned fiercely.
"I will choose my own death!"
As the Blade Heavenly Demon approached, the young Cult Leader threw himself backward.
Beyond him was a cliff so deep and dangerous that even birds struggled to fly across it.
Everything happened so suddenly that even the Seven Heavenly Demons, each possessing martial arts powerful enough to shake heaven and earth, could only watch.
The young Cult Leader disappeared into Manjangjeolae.
The Seven Heavenly Demons clicked their tongues.
"He's truly vicious, just like his father."
The Blade Heavenly Demon stared over the edge of the cliff.
"If we'd given him another ten years, we would've become nothing more than his hands and feet."
The other six Heavenly Demons silently agreed.
Although Jaha was still a young Cult Leader, his talent and ability had already surpassed those of the previous Cult Leader.
That was precisely why they had done this.
They were afraid.
Afraid that if the young Cult Leader were allowed to grow stronger, he would eventually crush their ambitions.
And so they had driven him to his death.
Whoooooosh!
Jaha fell through the air at terrifying speed.
The blade-like wind rising along the cliff seemed to tear his skin apart.
His falling speed was incredible.
Yet the fragments of his life flashed through his mind even faster.
Memories from his not-so-short life passed before his eyes like a revolving lantern.
Then, suddenly, stubbornness rose inside him.
I can't die like this.
Not when I have so many regrets!
Jaha, the young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult, desperately searched through the memories flashing across his mind.
And among them, he found one final hope.
He had not learned the technique in preparation for a situation like this.
He had secretly studied it simply because its contents had seemed fascinating.
Its name was the Spirit Communion Unity Art.
It was a mystical art that temporarily separated the soul from the body and allowed it to resonate with someone whose soul shared the same wavelength.
Even throughout the thousand-year history of the Demonic Cult, there had never been a confirmed case of anyone successfully using the technique.
But for Jaha, this impossible technique was his final hope.
The ground was rapidly approaching.
Jaha squeezed out the last trace of true energy remaining inside his body.
And activated the Spirit Communion Unity Art.
To reach Yeongje, the region located near the borders of Shanxi, Shaanxi, and Henan, travelers had to cross Mount Jeyun.
A group consisting of several merchants and martial artists had chosen a mountain ridge where bandits were unlikely to appear and were making their way across Mount Jeyun.
A man walking nearby turned toward Byeokho.
"Brother Byeok, did something good happen?"
He sounded genuinely curious.
"Everyone climbing this mountain looks exhausted, yet you're the only one smiling. It's strange. Is this place your hometown, perhaps?"
The man speaking to Byeokho had been hurriedly hired by the merchants as an escort in the village below the mountain.
He was not an especially skilled swordsman.
He was merely one of the many wandering martial artists who helped travelers cross mountains while boasting about being professional warriors.
Normally, Byeokho had no reason to reveal his personal circumstances to such a man.
But he was in such a good mood today that he felt willing to answer almost any question.
"Yes. This is my hometown."
Byeokho smiled.
"I'm the second disciple of Cheongun Martial Hall in Yeongje County."
The escort's eyes widened.
"Ah! Brother Byeok is a disciple of Cheongun Martial Hall?"
He laughed loudly.
"Hahaha! This truly is an honor. I've heard plenty about Cheongun Martial Hall."
The martial hall had operated for several decades, so most people in the surrounding region had at least heard its name.
After showing off his knowledge for a while, the escort asked another question.
"But were you traveling somewhere far away? Judging from your appearance, it looks like you're returning from a long journey."
"That's right."
Byeokho nodded.
"I'm returning home for the first time in three years."
The escort smiled knowingly.
"So that's why you've looked so happy. You're excited about seeing your fellow disciples again."
"Exactly."
"But what happened that kept you away for three whole years?"
The escort had introduced himself as Jang in the village below the mountain.
At that question, however, Byeokho fell silent.
To answer honestly, he would have to explain the difficult situation Cheongun Martial Hall had gone through.
The master of Cheongun Martial Hall, Ha Seonbaek, had taken in six orphans and accepted them as his disciples.
He taught martial arts to children who had nowhere else to go and cared for them as though they were his own.
Ha Seonbaek had no children of his own, so he raised the six orphans like sons.
And the orphans followed Ha Seonbaek as though he were their true father.
Then, seven years ago, their master's wife became seriously ill.
Ha Seonbaek spent several years caring for her, using nearly his entire fortune on her treatment.
Yet despite all his devotion, his wife eventually passed away.
After her death, Ha Seonbaek himself became bedridden.
Three of his disciples remained at the martial hall, continuing to teach students while protecting the place.
The other three decided to travel to Taiyuan, the provincial capital of Shanxi, to earn money.
Their goal was to buy high-quality medicinal ingredients to treat Ha Seonbaek.
A physician had warned them that without treatment using expensive medicine, the illness would reach deep into his marrow and he would not survive another five years.
If only one physician had said it, they might not have believed him.
But four respected physicians in the surrounding region had all given them nearly the same diagnosis.
