Chapter 140

Demonic religion 

Martial artists are the kind of people who would draw their swords even if a stranger merely brushed past them on the street.

So if someone had dumped scraps on their head, the result should have been obvious.

Yet, surprisingly, Samanbul only thought for a long while before letting out a deep sigh. He hadn’t sighed that heavily even when fleeing from Shaolin.

He then addressed Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae.

“Present your foreheads.”

The sudden command left Hong Geolgae dumbfounded.

“…Pardon? Our foreheads?”

“Yes. Take a hit each, and let’s leave it at that.”

Fortunately, Samanbul had no intention of killing them. It seemed he was considering Tang Mujin’s relationship with the two fools.

As the saying goes, “Better to get it over with quickly,” Hong Geolgae bravely stuck out his forehead.

Samanbul pressed his thumb and middle finger together as though preparing a flicking technique, then positioned his hand before Hong Geolgae’s brow. It was obvious what was about to happen.

Seized by fear, Hong Geolgae instinctively shut his eyes.

Smack!

A sharp sound rang out, and Hong Geolgae’s head jerked backward.

Even without channeling inner force, the flick carried the impact of a martial strike. His sheer size and strength made it possible.

“Hhrrgh…”

Hong Geolgae staggered briefly before rubbing his forehead and steadying himself.

A bright red mark swelled up in the middle of his brow, rising into a bulge. It looked almost like the white urna mark on a Buddha statue’s forehead.

Tang Mujin sneered.

“With Samanbul’s teaching, you’ve become a proper disciple of Buddha. Very dignified.”

“You didn’t punch me while my eyes were closed, did you?”

“If it had been a punch, you’d be dead.”

Groaning, Hong Geolgae crouched down, clutching his throbbing head.

A moment later, another crisp smack echoed.

Namgung Myeong’s forehead also swelled bright red.

The only difference was that he’d tried to tilt his head to lessen the blow—so Samanbul flicked him twice.

Now, with a much lighter expression, Samanbul finally seemed satisfied and glanced around.

The freed prisoners were gathered in small groups, murmuring to each other.

“My inner energy isn’t circulating properly. It’s uncomfortable.”

“That must be Jimsae’s poison. Give it a little time, it’ll pass.”

“I know that. The problem is whether we have the time to wait.”

“If we don’t wait, then what? Moving in this state is far too dangerous.”

“No. Better to move as soon as possible, even weakened.”

They were split at a crossroads: should they find shelter, purge the poison for half a day, then move slowly? Or should they risk everything and leave immediately, poison still inside them?

All forty pairs of eyes turned toward Samanbul. In the martial world, the strongest usually had the final say.

But Samanbul simply pointed to Tang Mujin. The stares shifted to him.

Tang Mujin wasn’t the second strongest here, nor a seasoned veteran.

But he was the one who had freed them from the dungeon, and Samanbul himself had acknowledged him. Naturally, the others deferred to him.

Tang Mujin thought:

With this many people, there’s no way we’ll remain undetected for half a day. Guards will come to switch shifts. We need to get as far away as possible before they discover us.

He organized his thoughts and spoke firmly:

“We move immediately.”

No one objected.

There was no need to explain which way to go, either. These people had lived on Mount Tianshan for years, some for decades. The only ones who didn’t know the terrain were Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae.

The group skirted wide around the Demonic Cult’s main complex.

Their gazes gravitated toward the Cult Leader’s Hall. It wasn’t hard to guess what they were imagining—the ultimate divine manuals hidden within.

When their pace slowed, Samanbul sternly rebuked them.

“Abandon your delusions and walk. Even if you obtained the supreme manuals, without knowledge of the Anshiguo script, they would be useless.”

That shattered their lingering greed, and they quickened their steps.

Now they had only to descend from the main complex toward the outskirts of the village, then move east. From there, each would find their own way.

As they moved, a familiar sight caught Tang Mujin’s eye—the entrance of the Poison Cavern where he had stayed for months.

He cast a complicated glance at it, then hastened his pace.

Then Samanbul asked him in a low voice:

“What about the young lady who was with you? Did you deal with her properly?”

“You mean Mok Wana? And what do you mean by deal with?”

When Tang Mujin asked back, Samanbul clicked his tongue.

“Young men… You’re naïve in the most unexpected ways. Are you saying you escaped without eliminating the watcher?”

“…Watcher?”

“Of course an outsider would be assigned a watcher.”

Only then did Tang Mujin grasp what he meant.

“Mok Wana isn’t like that. She doesn’t have the cunning or malice to plot behind someone’s back.”

“It’s not about cunning or intent. It’s about choices. Either she obeys the orders to monitor you and survives, or she shirks her role and dies.”

Tang Mujin sighed. So that’s how it was…

Samanbul pressed again:

“Then tell me. What do you think Lady Mok would choose?”

It wasn’t a difficult question. Tang Mujin knew her desperate will to live.

Mok Wana, who had clung to life by enduring poison longer than anyone else, who refused to leave the cavern lest she perish outside.

She was the kind of person who, as long as survival was possible, would accept any price.

Reading Tang Mujin’s expression, Samanbul instructed the others:

“Keep moving. I have something to check.”

He turned back toward the Poison Cavern, and Tang Mujin followed.

They pushed open the wooden door. No one was inside.

Tang Mujin’s chest tightened. When he’d left earlier, Mok Wana had been sleeping by his side.

Samanbul muttered:

“Already gone, it seems. We must hurry.”

He had already sensed failure. Once they reached the village, pursuers would surely descend. And with their inner energy sealed, he had little confidence they could outrun the Demonic Cult’s trackers.

However, Tang Mujin still held onto a sliver of hope. There was one more place he needed to check.

“Please wait a moment.”

He crawled into the hidden passage deep inside the cavern.

He knew the chances of Mok Wana being there were slim. She had been sleeping soundly outside earlier; there was no reason she would suddenly move inside on her own.

Yet, contrary to his expectations, Mok Wana was lying there. The problem was the overwhelming poison saturating the narrow chamber—his skin tingled, and his eyes stung.

Holding his breath, Tang Mujin dragged her limp body out of the tunnel.

“Huff, huff, huff!”

Once outside, he gasped for air and quickly examined her condition.

Mok Wana’s lips were bluish, and her breathing was faint. Even her fragile breaths carried poison—so strong that even Samanbul could feel it.

“She’s ingested poison,” Samanbul muttered.

Mok Wana’s body was resilient enough to withstand ordinary toxins with ease. For her to collapse like this meant she had swallowed an immense amount.

Tang Mujin searched the jars of poison stored inside the cavern. Most of them were empty.

The reason was obvious: she hadn’t intended to betray Tang Mujin’s plans, but she couldn’t face the punishment that would surely follow.

Then why hadn’t she betrayed him?

Loyalty…?

Tang Mujin’s chest tightened.

They had grown close over their time together in the Poison Cavern. To Mok Wana, Tang Mujin was the first true friend she had ever made. That must have meant everything to her.

But he hadn’t expected she would rather choose death than betray that trust.

She’s stronger than she looks.

Still, if he didn’t draw the poison out now, even Mok Wana’s body wouldn’t endure.

Laying her down, Tang Mujin heard urgency creeping into Samanbul’s voice.

“We don’t have time for this. We must move.”

“You may go ahead. I’ll treat her quickly and catch up.”

“How could I leave after hearing that?”

Tang Mujin gave a faint smile and moved swiftly.

First, he pried her mouth open and shoved his fingers deep into her throat—the standard treatment for someone who had swallowed poisonous herbs by mistake.

The reaction was immediate. Though unconscious, Mok Wana’s body convulsed as she vomited up the contents of her stomach. Black poison dribbled out, filling the air with its sharp, acrid stench.

Tang Mujin repeated the process several times, forcing out every drop until she expelled it all.

Samanbul watched with a grimace.

“I don’t know what kind it was, but for her to survive after swallowing that much… astounding.”

Tang Mujin thought the same. For such a timid girl, where had she found the courage to drink so much poison?

Now only the finishing step remained. Tang Mujin tried to channel his inner force to draw the poison mist from her body—but Jimsae’s venom still hampered his control. It was like trying to pick up grains of rice with thick staves instead of chopsticks.

I’ll have to take the crude approach.

Instead of extracting the poison, he absorbed part of it into his own body. Mok Wana’s face relaxed visibly.

…This should be enough to keep her alive.

The emergency treatment done, Tang Mujin staggered to his feet. Dizziness swept over him, his vision swaying as though someone were shaking his skull back and forth.

As he stumbled, Samanbul asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m used to poison—it won’t take long to recover.”

When he tried to hoist Mok Wana onto his back, Samanbul stopped him.

“I’ll carry her. You just walk.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look ready to collapse at any moment.”

Planting his feet firmly, Tang Mujin steadied himself.

“If a fight breaks out, it’s you who must fight, not me. With poison still in me, I won’t be much help. So it’s only right that I carry Mok Wana.”

“…If you insist, I won’t argue.”

The two left the cavern. Breathing fresh air cleared his head somewhat. Even carrying Mok Wana, he managed not to stumble.

Her soft skin pressed against his back, and each breath brushed faintly against his nape. As they hurried, Tang Mujin kept a close eye on her breathing.

Half-running, they soon caught up with the group, who were already crossing the village outskirts and heading down the Tianshan foothills.

The others tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps but relaxed when they saw Samanbul and Tang Mujin—everyone except two.

Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae’s faces twisted in horror and disgust.

“Tang Mujin, are you even human?”

“While Dan Seol-yeong worries for you, you’re off toying with another girl? Even beasts wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“What nonsense? She’s just a colleague I researched poisons with.”

Still, their eyes lingered on the figure slumped over his back.

Though her face was hidden, Mok Wana’s pale, porcelain-like skin was visible—paler than any noble lady they had ever seen.

Namgung Myeong sneered.

“Oh, I see. So your ‘colleague’ just happened to be a girl your age, and now she’s so precious you carry her on your back even in this crisis?”

“Yes. Loyalty must be repaid with loyalty. Not that you’d understand.”

“That so-called loyalty of yours… does it only apply to women—hm?”

Namgung Myeong cut himself off, staring at the sky. Tang Mujin felt a bad premonition.

A massive bird, larger than a man, was flying straight toward them.

And worse—dust clouds rose in the distance where pursuers were charging their way.

“Run,” Samanbul said in a low voice.