Episode 39
But Mayu-gyeom, who had grabbed the sword hilt and tried to draw the blade, ultimately did not pull it out.
No—he couldn’t.
“Leeik!”
His trembling hands still clutching the sword hilt, he seemed to be suppressed by some invisible force.
Just as earlier when Cheokgang’s murderous aura was blocked, it appeared that Hyeolma was exerting pressure through an intangible energy.
To think that without moving even a finger, Hyeolma could render Mayu-gyeom—an unparalleled martial artist—so powerless was simply astonishing.
Suddenly, my earlier thought about revealing the secret to attacking the Blood Sect once I reached the pinnacle of martial arts felt utterly ridiculous.
I was left feeling hollow.
Hyeolma smiled softly, watching Mayu-gyeom grit his teeth in frustration before turning his gaze to the next person.
At that moment, Mayu-gyeom’s expression fell into despair, and he relaxed his grip on the sword.
I suspected he was overwhelmed by an insurmountable wall of despair.
After exchanging a few words of encouragement with each of the leaders, all the way to Chief Seolpung, Hyeolma entered the conference hall.
We could only watch his retreating figure with complicated expressions.
The impression he left was overwhelming.
Not just his commanding presence and effortless mastery, but above all, the fact that he had called each leader by name and offered a friendly word of encouragement was a shock none of us could ignore.
From behind me, I heard Bisea-young mutter in disbelief.
“I don’t even know who the real Martial Alliance Leader is anymore.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Our actual leader, King Moryong Geom, had only offered a formal greeting.
I doubted he even remembered the names of the leaders, let alone the deputy leaders.
It was bitter.
Though we hadn’t fought, it already felt like defeat.
Then, suddenly, a faint transmission whispered in my ear.
It was Cheong-yeon Sojeo’s voice.
I frowned in confusion.
Strange? Strange how?
Was she referring to how calm Hyeolma had seemed?
But what she said next was something else entirely.
Huh? A transmission?
To Mayu-gyeom?
I asked in surprise.
You mean you intercepted it?
No, nothing like that.
Of course not.
I’d never heard of anyone being able to intercept transmissions before.
Even the supreme martial masters—could they do that? I doubted it.
She continued.
I looked again at Mayu-gyeom’s face.
He hung his head low, trembling slightly as if in shock.
Honestly, I thought it was just the helplessness of facing Hyeolma, the Blood Sect’s nemesis.
If I felt overwhelmed standing beside him, it must have been far worse for Mayu-gyeom who faced him directly.
But since Cheong-yeon’s observation was far sharper than mine, I couldn’t dismiss it.
Still…
No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t guess what Hyeolma could have said to Mayu-gyeom.
Had he apologized for the Blood Sect’s wrongdoings?
I had no idea.
The conference ended quickly and uneventfully, much like a memory from a past life.
As Hyeolma and his four attendants, including Cheolshingwangma Cheokgang, left immediately, the leader’s party also departed without looking back.
“Leader! Please take care on your way!”
Deputy Leader Heon Yeongbo shouted at the top of his lungs from behind, but the leader paid no attention and hurried on.
It seemed that, like in this life, he would remain here.
That very evening, since our Seventh Squad was on patrol duty, when we went out for our shift, Cheong-yeon suddenly spoke to us.
“I have a favor to ask of you all.”
We looked at her, puzzled.
She wasn’t just skilled in martial arts; she was always sharp and decisive.
Others often asked her for favors, but she had never once asked anyone for anything.
What she said next was even more startling.
Looking at us with a serious expression, she said,
“I want to believe it’s not true, but I might die soon.”
Her sudden words shocked us all.
“Wha—what?!”
“Die?! What do you mean, Cheong-yeon?!”
That morning, as the thirteen squads stood in formation and the leader’s party passed by, Ha Cheong-yeon sent a transmission to one of them.
It was to Jegal Jigang, the military officer of the Martial Alliance.
Jigal Jigang suddenly turned his head sharply, eyes wide in surprise.
He never imagined seeing her here.
Aren’t you Cheong-yeon? What are you doing here?
There’s a reason. Shall we talk in the forest over there later? I’ll be waiting.
After entering the conference hall, Jegal Jigang excused himself briefly and met Ha Cheong-yeon in the forest.
“Cheong-yeon greets you, Uncle.”
“Cheong-yeon! What on earth is going on? Why are you at the front lines? Does Ha Hyung know about this?”
Ha Cheong-yeon was not only the cherished friend of Jegal’s precious daughter, Jegal Seoyul, but also one of his few close friends’ daughters.
Jegal Jigang’s anger boiled over at the thought of her being here.
But Ha Cheong-yeon answered calmly.
“My father doesn’t know yet. But knowing what’s happening here, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t. That wouldn’t be the righteous stance my father taught me.”
Jegal Jigang was momentarily speechless.
He knew well what kind of man her father was and what he emphasized most.
“No matter what, isn’t this place too dangerous for someone as young and as delicate as you?”
But she smiled gently and shook her head.
“There’s a younger sister in my squad who’s even younger than me. I’m twenty-one now, old enough to carry my weight. Besides, the things I’ve learned here are so shocking I can’t turn away.”
“The things you’ve learned here…”
Jegal Jigang looked at her with a complicated expression.
Ha Cheong-yeon smiled and continued.
“Don’t worry too much. It hasn’t been that dangerous yet. And I came to see you because I have a favor to ask.”
She then handed over two sealed letters.
“I wrote to Seoyul and my father, but since you were likely to come to the conference, I haven’t sent them yet. Could you please deliver these?”
Jegal Jigang smiled and nodded.
“If that’s your wish, I’ll make sure they get there.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting.
But as soon as Ha Cheong-yeon turned away, her bright smile faded into a serious expression.
Though unseen by her, Jegal Jigang’s face also lost its smile.
Ha Cheong-yeon spoke to her comrades.
“I’ve always felt something was off about the current situation. The harsh conditions at the front, the dangerous minds, the faults of the Wuhuang General Blood Sect and the Jeomchang Sect, and even the Bisea’s involvement. It’s unnatural that all this is either unknown or misrepresented in the martial world. I believe there’s a powerful force managing all this.”
Bisea-young frowned.
“What powerful force? Who do you mean?”
Ha Cheong-yeon answered.
“Most likely… the Martial Alliance.”
Cheon Ju-eun looked confused.
“But sister, everyone knows about the secret oath we took. Though the intent is suspicious, is it really that strange?”
Ha Cheong-yeon replied.
“The secret oath is a problem, but the biggest issue is how well that secret is kept.”
“…Huh?”
“The front-line service term is five years. That means if someone didn’t voluntarily extend their service, there should already be quite a few veterans active in the martial world. And those who survived five years here must be skilled fighters. So, surely, some of these veterans should have appeared somewhere—especially in Guizhou, Sichuan, or Guangxi provinces adjacent to Yunnan.”
She then looked at Seonwoo Jin.
“Seonwoo Gongja, you said you got information about the front lines from outside. Have you met any veterans yourself?”
Seonwoo Jin shook his head grimly.
“No. I’ve never met a single person known to be from the front lines in Guizhou. Not even rumors. The only source of information was Haomun.”
Ha Cheong-yeon looked around at everyone.
“Does that make sense? Not a single veteran in Guizhou, right next to Yunnan? And in a martial world where rumors spread faster than words, no news of the front lines at all?”
Their expressions grew serious.
Naseo-yu swallowed hard and asked,
“Cheong-yeon, are you saying…?”
Around the same time, Jegal Jigang, staying at an inn, stared at the letters Ha Cheong-yeon had entrusted to him.
He broke the seals and began to read.
But as Jegal Jigang read the letter, his expression grew increasingly stern.
Inside the letter Ha Cheong-yeon had sent to her father was a detailed account of the front lines.
It described the dire conditions—seasoned warriors and powerful mages falling in battle, leaving only the young and inexperienced fighters behind. It even included secret information about the Jeomchang faction.
At the end of the letter, Ha Cheong-yeon expressed her confusion over why all of this had to remain a secret, and how it had managed to stay hidden from the martial world until now.
Ultimately, her letter was a plea to her father, asking if he could look into the matter.
When Jegal Jigang finished reading, the stiffness in his face had completely faded into a blank, unreadable expression.
After a long moment of contemplation, he finally made a decision and gave a faint smile.
Then, without hesitation, he began burning Ha Cheong-yeon’s letter.
“Cheong-yeon, my dear,” he murmured, “a secret oath means promising to keep a secret. For Seoyul’s sake, I want to pretend I don’t know anything… but if I leave you be, sooner or later you’ll have to tell your father the truth. So even this uncle has no choice. I’m not sure I can bear the consequences if your father finds out.”
He paused, thinking of her father, and spoke again.
“I’m sorry, Brother Hae. But even if one of your three daughters is lost, you still have two left. This is all because of your stubborn nature, so please understand.”
With that, he began writing a secret letter to the Martial Alliance.
In the dead of night, Do Hee-young, one of the women belonging to the Thirteenth Generation Oh Jo, suddenly sat bolt upright in bed.
She felt as if she’d had a strange dream.
But upon waking, she couldn’t recall a single detail—only a dull fog clouding her mind.
“That’s odd… why do I feel like this?”
She muttered to herself, trying to fall back asleep. Then, suddenly, she remembered the blood demon and his group she had seen earlier that day.
It was the moment when the blood demon was greeting the faction leaders one by one, drawing everyone’s attention.
She thought she’d heard a strange sound and instinctively glanced toward the four men who had come with the blood demon.
Her eyes met those of the smallest among them, Jukrip.
He was holding Jukrip lightly in his arms, looking directly at her.
His red eyes gave her an unsettling feeling.
“But I quickly looked away,” she reminded herself.
She didn’t want to hold his gaze even for a moment—it made her too uncomfortable.
And nothing happened after that.
Or so she thought…
Suddenly, a chill of fear ran through her.
Could it be that she had been secretly betrothed at that moment?
Swallowing hard, she shook her head.
No matter how weak her martial skills were compared to the others in the Oh Jo, surely just locking eyes once wouldn’t mean she was bound by some secret engagement.
If that had happened, she wouldn’t even be able to think about it now.
“Yes, it can’t be true. I’m just overthinking.”
Convinced, Do Hee-young tried to fall back asleep.
The thought of being secretly bound to a blood cultist, forced to harm her comrades, and then being killed by them—it was a nightmare too terrible to imagine.
She wanted to believe such a thing could never happen to her.
But when she finally drifted off, the nightmares returned—dreams she would forget upon waking, leaving only a lingering sense of dread.
Mayugyeom slowly opened the door to his quarters.
No one was inside, but his hand trembled slightly as he pushed the door open.
With a stiff, hardened expression, he stepped inside—and froze when he saw a neatly placed letter and a box on his bed.
He closed his eyes tightly.
After standing motionless for a long moment, he took a deep breath and forced himself to open the letter.
His trembling hands unfolded the paper, revealing handwriting so familiar yet unseen for a very long time.
His face twisted in pain as he read on, the anguish deepening with every word.
When he reached the end, he crumpled the letter in his fist and let out a guttural scream.
“Ahhhhhhhhh! Aaaahhhhhhh!”
It was a voice filled with profound sorrow, bitter grief, and utter despair.