Chapter 143

Fear

Tang Mujin whispered to Sam Anbul.

“Who is that monk standing next to Zuo Hobup? His presence is extraordinary.”

The man beside Zuo Hobup wasn’t tall, but his body looked as solid as granite, with thick, caterpillar-like eyebrows. Most striking of all was his shaved head.

Anyone could tell he was a monk. Yet his robes were different from those Tang Mujin knew—different in both color and form.

“He is the Ghost King. I fled Shaolin Temple after committing a crime, but that one fled after committing a crime at Podalab Palace.”

“Where is Podalab Palace?”

“Just remember that such a place exists.”

“I don’t know what crime he committed, but the nickname doesn’t suit a monk. Ghost King, really.”

Sam Anbul replied with a meaningful tone.

“There’s a rumor that in the past he wasn’t called Ghost King  but Turtle King . Which means the crime he committed was of that nature.”

Tang Mujin didn’t understand what he meant.

Turtle King? Did it mean he shrank back like a turtle, refusing to act until the last moment strength was needed?

Tang Mujin glanced at the Ghost King and Zuo Hobup, then whispered again.

“How many transcendent masters does the Demonic Cult even have? I already thought it was excessive with just the three Protectors and you, Elder Sam Anbul.”

“There were six originally. But now only four remain. Wu Hobup is dead, and I left the cult.”

“Great Protector, Zuo Hobup, the Ghost King… and the last one is… ah.”

He remembered. Back when the Great Protector was in seclusion, Zuo Hobup and Wu Hobup had wandered the streets with another man. That one carried a crude, massive blade, like a butcher’s knife enlarged several times.

“You must have seen Guang Yeomra.”

“I didn’t know the name, but yes, I saw him.”

“Then you know. Those four remain.”

“Even reduced by two, that’s far more than I expected.”

Among the orthodox factions, there were only six transcendent masters in total—those known as the Six Lords.

That meant, until recently, the Demonic Cult alone had as many transcendent masters as the entire orthodox world combined.

Of course, there were exceptional figures like Hwayeon Shinni who weren’t counted among the Six Lords, or hidden hermits who never showed themselves. But even including them, the number was small.

“If the cult had only one or two transcendent masters, the orthodox factions would’ve joined forces long ago and crushed them. The cult has enough strength to keep its line unbroken.”

As Tang Mujin and Sam Anbul whispered, Zuo Hobup called out loudly.

“To stand before someone who has waited so long—what more do you have to whisper about?”

“None of your concern.”

“As curt as ever.”

Zuo Hobup grumbled playfully, but the situation was anything but playful.

Sam Anbul’s condition was poor. He had taken many wounds fighting Wu Hobup, lost much blood, and had marched for two days without rest.

Tang Mujin’s ribs were broken, and the others were also injured in varying degrees.

And this time, there was no miraculous variable.

A few days earlier, Tang Mujin had overturned the situation with the poison of the jimsæ. But now, he could not recklessly unleash such poison again—that had only been possible immediately after swallowing the sac.

The only consolation was that Zuo Hobup and the Ghost King hadn’t brought many subordinates. But that alone wasn’t enough to change the odds.

There’s no chance of victory.

Yet Sam Anbul had no thought of retreat. He drew a deep breath and lowered into a stance.

Seeing this, Zuo Hobup quickly waved his hand.

“So hasty! We’re not sworn enemies—why rush to fight?”

“You say we’re not enemies, when I killed Wu Hobup?”

“Wu Hobup wasn’t my kin. Besides, he died fulfilling his duty. That’s possible. What matters is what comes next. Needless bloodshed benefits no one.”

Of course, when Zuo Hobup said “needless death,” he wasn’t referring to himself or the Ghost King.

He assumed, as did everyone, that if a battle broke out here, Sam Anbul would die.

Sam Anbul glared.

“Get to the point.”

“Return to the cult for a few more years. At most, no more than ten. After that, you’ll be free to go wherever you please, do whatever you want. So the Cult Master has decreed.”

“So it was the Great Protector who told you this?”

“Not the Great Protector. The Cult Master himself.”

Sam Anbul thought to himself. The martial arts the Great Protector had acquired must be far beyond imagination.

Martial arts manuals don’t yield mastery just from reading.

To truly make a skill one’s own requires years of refinement. The hardship of martial cultivation lies in that process and time.

The duration varies. A street technique can be picked up overnight, while profound martial arts might take years.

Talent matters greatly too. A dullard may take years to grasp what a genius could master in seven days and nights.

And if someone like the Cult Master foresaw ten years for his cultivation, then it must be a martial art capable of challenging for supremacy over the world.

Only now did Sam Anbul realize why, two days ago, Wu Hobup had tried to capture him alive instead of killing him.

It was to preserve the cult’s strength so that, while the Cult Master trained, no outside force could threaten them.

With Wu Hobup dead, my help is even more precious now.

If only they hadn’t come chasing to drag him back in the first place, things would’ve been simpler. That was what Sam Anbul thought.

But the matter was already before him. Rationally, as Zuo Hobup said, the discussion of the future was what mattered now.

“I’m over seventy. Do you think ten years is a child’s game?”

“Seventy or not, Elder, if you dedicate yourself to cultivation, you could achieve Reversal of Age. Even if not, you’d still be hale for another twenty years.”

Indeed, if Sam Anbul trained for the purpose of Reversal of Age, the chances of success were high within a few years.

But to him, it held no allure. In fact, he thought he would refuse it even if the chance came.

Sam Anbul had mastered extreme external arts, training his body and brute strength.

For an ordinary martial artist, Reversal of Age would mean longer life and greater mastery. But for Sam Anbul, it would only mean regression.

“Reversal of Age? I’ve no interest.”

“That’s your choice. But if you want to survive, you must accept my offer.”

“Fool. Do you think I left the cult just to return?”

“In that case, let me add another condition. If you return, the others will be released.”

Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae silently rejoiced. To them, Sam Anbul’s presence made no difference. In fact, it would be more convenient if he disappeared.

But then Zuo Hobup added:

“No. I’ll need Physician Tang as well. Just those two will do.”

Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae’s expressions instantly soured.

Zuo Hobup studied the group’s reaction. Usually, if you lay the burden on a select few, discord spreads quickly. Even the powerful can’t easily resist the pull of group sentiment.

But around Sam Anbul and Tang Mujin, no one reacted. Because those who might have wavered had already been slaughtered by Sam Anbul.

The unexpected stillness unsettled Zuo Hobup.

Sam Anbul, however, found it satisfying.

“Of course, I refuse.”

Zuo Hobup let out a long sigh.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to take you by force.”

Zuo Hobup drew his sword, and the Ghost King removed the kasaya draped over his shoulders, laying it on the ground.

Zuo Hobup’s gaze fixed on Sam Anbul, but the Ghost King’s eyes clung to Mok Wana, refusing to look away.

The naked lust in his stare was unbearable, and Mok Wana, tense with fear, slipped behind Tang Mujin’s back.

A battle with almost no chance of victory.

Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae exchanged complicated glances and silent lip movements.

They quickly reached a conclusion: when the moment came, they would knock Tang Mujin unconscious and use the cultists as a shield to escape.

The air grew thick with explosive tension.

But just before the two sides could clash, something came flying at tremendous speed.

It struck the ground between Sam Anbul and Zuo Hobup, kicking up a thin cloud of dust that soon settled.

Everyone looked to see what it was.

It was a branch, freshly broken, its leaves still green. Despite being driven a handspan deep into the earth, not a single part of it looked damaged. This was no feat a normal person could display.

All eyes turned toward the direction it had come from.

Someone was rushing forward with peerless lightness skill—a girl with hair as white as snow. Hwayeon Shinni.

A faint tension shadowed her expression.

Though she was one of the most renowned masters in the world, even she could not handle three transcendent experts at once.

She quickly surveyed the scene.

Sam Anbul stood beside Tang Mujin, seemingly set against two of the Demonic Cult’s transcendent masters.

Whatever the circumstances, one thing was clear: Sam Anbul was standing on Tang Mujin’s side, opposing the cult. And even Namgung Myeong’s familiar face was here.

Good.

When Hwayeon Shinni stepped beside Tang Mujin, the faces of Zuo Hobup and the Ghost King twisted in dismay.

They had never met her before, but they knew that the only woman to achieve Reversal of Age was none other than Hwayeon Shinni.

It wasn’t enough just to secure Sam Anbul without losses. If a clash here cost them men as well, the situation would turn disastrous.

And truthfully, victory seemed unlikely. There was no need to cross blades to measure her strength—her reputation spoke for itself.

Zuo Hobup adopted a deeply respectful tone, trying to negotiate.

“I am Zuo Hobup, Yan Sa-uk of the Demonic Cult. May I ask why Senior Hwayeon Shinni has come here?”

“Me? I came to take Tang Mujin.”

Zuo Hobup let out a sigh of relief.

It was a pity to lose a physician skilled in poison arts, but if they could still secure Sam Anbul, sacrificing Tang Mujin was acceptable.

“…Very well. We will withdraw our claim on Brother Tang. Please step back a little.”

Hwayeon Shinni nodded and took Tang Mujin by the wrist.

But Tang Mujin shook his head slightly and looked at Sam Anbul. Hwayeon Shinni added reluctantly,

“No. On second thought, I’ll take Sam Anbul as well.”

Zuo Hobup’s expression stiffened with visible discomfort.

“That would be difficult. Please consider our situation.”

Hwayeon Shinni neither agreed nor refused. Instead, she asked,

“What did I just say?”

“You said you would take Sam Anbul too.”

“I’ve already decided. Why should I listen to your opinion?”

To say something so outrageous, without hesitation—

Even Zuo Hobup, and Sam Anbul himself—known for his bluntness—were left gaping.

Still smiling, Zuo Hobup tried once more to persuade her.

“But this matter is internal to the cult—”

Hwayeon Shinni cut him off instantly.

“Say one more word, and I’ll split your skull.”

When had he last been spoken to with such violent contempt? Zuo Hobup felt dizzy.

“That’s—!”

He had meant to say: That’s far too rude. Please consider our position.

But Hwayeon Shinni was true to her word.

The moment he spoke, a killing strike came.

Her sword flashed straight for his head. Zuo Hobup barely thrust out his blade to deflect it. He escaped without a wound, but his arm and even his shoulder went numb from the shock.

Why did such an old monster have to appear now…

He dared not open his mouth again, certain another killing strike would follow.

Instead, he glared at her.

A gaze filled with the pride of a transcendent master, shock at the sudden turn, a sense of grievance and humiliation, and the shame of being forced back in front of his men—all emotions churned together in that look.

Naturally, Hwayeon Shinni found it displeasing.

“What are you staring at?”

Zuo Hobup lowered his eyes at once. Unlike the hotheaded martial artists who put pride above all else, he was pragmatic and skilled at survival.

She’s stronger than me. I’ll let this pass once.

He nudged the Ghost King, then turned away. Their followers went with them, their steps light with relief that no battle had erupted.

At last, when Zuo Hobup and the Ghost King disappeared from sight, both Tang Mujin and Sam Anbul exhaled in relief.

Tang Mujin bowed his thanks to Hwayeon Shinni—Ha Ryeong.

“Thank you for your help.”

Hwayeon Shinni gave a sheepish smile.

“No thanks needed. Aren’t we allies? I’m just glad I wasn’t too late.”

But Tang Mujin had a question.

Why had she appeared here, when she had been so far away in Chongqing?

“May I ask why you came?”

“Someone asked for my help.”

Someone had asked for help? He was about to ask who, when he saw someone else racing toward them with lightness skill. It was Dan Seol-yeong.

Tang Mujin’s face lit with a broad smile, and he waved both arms.

“Seol-yeong!”

He thought she would be smiling brightly too—and indeed, she was.

Yet for some reason, in that smile Tang Mujin sensed a faint shadow of fear.