Episode 40

“Haaah! This is the air of the mortal world! So fragrant and refreshing! Hahaha!”

Yuk Jang-won, once a warrior of the Flying Dragon’s Eleventh Division, took a deep breath and laughed heartily.

He hadn’t even left Yunnan Province yet, and the dense jungle path looked just as familiar as always, but somehow, everything felt brand new.

It was all because he had left the Flying Dragon Division.

Not just on leave, but fully discharged.

He had completed five years of service and was now completely leaving the Flying Dragon behind.

Of course, some warriors stayed on the front lines even after their five-year term ended.

But Yuk Jang-won never wanted to live like them.

Most of those who stayed were like the zealots of the Jeomchang faction—obsessed with revenge against rival sects.

Shaking his head at the thought, Yuk Jang-won muttered, “That’s madness. Pure madness.”

Why would anyone endure another five years in such a deadly place, where death lurked at every turn and no glory was to be gained?

Looking back, he thought his biggest mistake was volunteering for the Flying Dragon Division on a whim, and his greatest success was surviving those five years and finally getting out.

He hadn’t come away empty-handed, either.

When he entered the front lines in his early thirties as a second-rate warrior, he was now in his mid-to-late thirties, returning to the martial world as a top-tier first-rate warrior.

If he could just find some potent elixir to fill his internal energy to the level of a first-grade master, he could even aim for the pinnacle.

He was confident—having reached the peak of the Eleventh Division, just one step away from the summit, there was no doubt he could make it.

So ahead of him lay only a path of blossoms, he was sure.

‘If I push a little more and become a supreme master, I’ll claim a remote region and become its absolute ruler.’

He would seize wealth and honor, and even marry.

He vowed to reclaim the five lost years, with interest.

Then, suddenly—

Whoosh!

A faint whistling sound reached his ears.

A hidden dart.

“Ha!”

Thud!

Yuk Jang-won, who had been strolling carelessly, instantly sprang into action and dodged the dart with ease.

His sharp gaze scanned the direction the dart had come from and the surrounding area, as if he had never been caught off guard.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

More darts flew toward the spot where he had just moved.

But his brief pause was a feint—accelerating, he circled through the trees and charged toward the source.

Judging by the speed of the darts, his opponent was at least a high-level first-rate warrior.

Perhaps even a peer at the top first-rate level.

But that didn’t matter.

If he wasn’t at the pinnacle, Yuk Jang-won was confident he wouldn’t lose.

He was curious why someone was attacking him, but that could wait.

Whoosh! Ping! Ping!

Moving swiftly between the trees, dodging darts and using the trunks for cover, he closed in on his opponent.

At close range, he slipped behind a tree and quickly stripped off his clothes, tossing them outside the cover.

As expected, dozens of darts pierced the empty clothes.

Fsssssh!

A clever move to confuse the enemy’s eyes.

The masked figure who had thrown the darts realized a moment too late that the clothes were empty.

He hurriedly circled to the other side of the tree, wary of Yuk Jang-won’s possible escape.

But the attack came from an unexpected direction.

Whoosh!

In the brief moment the masked man’s vision was blocked, Yuk Jang-won had silently climbed up the tree and pounced from above.

“!”

Startled, the masked man looked up.

But it was already too late to react.

Yuk Jang-won’s triumphant smile and the downward strike of his sword filled his vision.

“Haah!”

Shuak!

Yuk Jang-won had no doubt he had won.

Even if his opponent’s level was similar, his experience on the front lines made him unbeatable.

He planned to sever one arm and interrogate the man.

But then—

From the shadow of the masked man’s stunned gaze, someone suddenly leapt out.

A completely unexpected ambush.

“Guh?!”

Yuk Jang-won’s eyes nearly popped out in surprise.

But he was a battle-hardened veteran who had endured five years on the front lines.

Spotting the blue glow of the sword coming at him, perfectly concealed in the shadows, he immediately turned to evade.

That blue light was sword energy.

His opponent was a supreme master.

Shuak!

“Ugh!”

Despite his efforts, Yuk Jang-won’s arm was severed along with the sword he had used to block.

He had barely managed to limit the damage by desperately twisting his body; otherwise, he would have been cut in two.

Through the pain, Yuk Jang-won calmly assessed his opponent.

Even a supreme master would find it difficult to cut through his sword and arm in one strike.

This enemy was likely not a beginner at the pinnacle, but a master with at least seventy years of internal energy cultivation.

Yuk Jang-won tumbled to the ground, arm severed.

He realized defeating this opponent was impossible.

He had to escape, no matter what.

But as he rolled toward the forest to flee, he stopped and looked around.

Rustle, rustle.

Masked figures emerged from all directions.

Eight in total.

The chill down his spine came from the fact that he hadn’t sensed any of them hiding nearby.

Behind him, the supreme masked warrior who had severed his arm now approached leisurely.

Gritting his teeth, Yuk Jang-won quickly scanned for an escape route.

There was none.

A dead end.

A bitter laugh escaped him.

He had been prepared to die for five years, but ironically, it was only now—just as he was about to live a proper life outside the front lines—that death came for him.

Sensing his end, Yuk Jang-won glared at the masked man and asked, “Are you the assassins of the Blood Sect?!”

The approaching masked man hesitated, then looked at him with heavy eyes.

With a short sigh, he said, “You’ve endured enough.”

“Endured enough?”

Yuk Jang-won’s mind went blank at the unexpected reply.

What did that mean?

So they weren’t assassins of the Blood Sect?

Then who were they?

Suddenly, the face of a close senior who had left the front lines before him flashed in his mind.

They had been so close they’d sworn brotherhood.

That senior had promised to visit him as soon as he settled outside, but never showed up.

Yuk Jang-won had been disappointed and resentful, thinking he was all talk and no loyalty.

Could that be the reason?

Eyes wide, he shouted, “No way! You’re the League of Shadows…?!”

At that moment, the blue sword energy on the masked man’s blade grazed his neck.

Shhhak!

A sharp cut opened, blood spurting like a blade.

Fssshhh!

Yuk Jang-won’s consciousness faded away.

The masked man who ended his life—Sak Mu-heun, the fourth squad leader of the League of Shadows—silently wished him peace.

‘You should never have left the front lines.’

Yuk Jang-won died because he was a ronin—a warrior without affiliation.

The Martial Alliance would utterly destroy any sect whose warriors broke their secret oaths.

Thus, warriors belonging to Alliance-affiliated sects had no choice but to keep their vows to preserve their sects.

In fact, they often reported other sects that broke their oaths to claim their territories.

But warriors like Yuk Jang-won, unaffiliated or belonging to rogue sects, could not be trusted to keep secrets.

So the Alliance decided to eliminate them preemptively.

It was a sinister act unworthy of the Alliance’s reputation as the pillar of orthodox martial arts.

Sak Mu-heun, now in his ninth year of such missions since joining the Alliance in his late twenties, still couldn’t accept or get used to assassinating righteous warriors defending the front lines in this way.

This wasn’t why he had joined the Alliance.

But there was no choice.

Warriors of ordinary backgrounds like him had to serve at least ten years in the League of Shadows before they could return to the Alliance as honorable fighters.

At least there was the consolation that only one year remained before he could return with honor.

Turning his head, he saw the other squad members teasing the new recruit who had tried to ambush Yuk Jang-won alone.

“What? You think you can handle a top-tier first-rate warrior by yourself? You’re the one who’s going to get handled.”

“See? I told you not to underestimate front-line veterans, you idiot.”

It was common for new recruits to be overconfident.

Since they were skilled enough to join the Alliance, they tended to look down on front-line warriors.

So it was tradition in the League of Shadows to have new recruits attempt solo attacks on veterans.

To gain experience and curb their arrogance.

Sak Mu-heun watched the teasing for a moment, then looked up at the sky.

A messenger pigeon was flying down.

Reading the letter it carried with a serious expression, he was soon interrupted by the others’ questions.

“Another discharged soldier? There seem to be an unusually high number this month.”

But Sak Muheun shook his head briefly and replied, “This time, it’s not a discharge. The order is to send someone to the front lines and kill a soldier on duty. And it’s a woman.”

The faces of the squad members twisted in confusion.

“What do you mean? We’ve never been ordered to kill a woman who’s actively serving on the front lines.”

Sak Muheun fixed the questioning soldier with a cold glare and said, “We just follow orders. Have you forgotten that?”

The soldier who had spoken fell silent, shrinking back.

After a moment of icy silence, Sak Muheun stepped forward and launched himself into action.

“Let’s move!”

Behind him, nine members of the Shadow Squad sprang into motion.

Excluding their leader Sak Muheun, the squad consisted of two top-tier masters and seven elite warriors—the Reapers were now heading toward the Thirteen Generations.

---

Mayugyeom wandered aimlessly, having left his quarters behind.

Several passersby asked if something was wrong, but he was so lost in thought he barely registered their words.

His mind was a tangled mess, swirling with only two things: the message sent by Hyeolma and the letter left on his bedside table.

—“Good thing he’s not Maywonil, but resembles Heegeum.”

That was the content of the message from Hyeolma.

At first, Mayugyeom had no idea what it meant.

He wanted to shout, “What kind of nonsense is this?”

Heegeum? Who’s that…?

Then, suddenly, he remembered his mother’s name: Jeon Heegeum.

Unlike his always cold father, his mother had been warm and protective since his childhood.

The moment he realized this, Mayugyeom stared blankly at Hyeolma.

And somehow, through Hyeolma’s gaze, a scene was transmitted to him.

It was the image of his mother—one he had never forgotten, even in his dreams.

She stood beside Hyeolma, tears welling in her eyes as she spoke.

“Yugyeom, my precious son. This is your maternal grandfather.”

…What?

Mayugyeom felt all the strength drain from his body.

He told himself it must be an illusion, a trick by Hyeolma, yet the vivid image of his mother held him captive.

In fact, it was Hyeolma who broke eye contact first.

After showing him that much, Hyeolma withdrew the vision and sent a message.

—“I left a letter from Heegeum in your quarters.”

That was all.

But from that moment, Mayugyeom’s confusion only deepened.

A letter from Heegeum? Could it be that his mother had sent him a letter?

Was she… still alive?

He lost all sense of time and place, unable to focus on the ongoing summit.

All he wanted was to return to his room and check.

Inside him, two conflicting feelings warred.

One, the desperate hope that the letter was real.

The other, the rational voice telling him this was impossible—that it was all Hyeolma’s trickery.

He longed to see the letter, but at the same time, he was afraid it might truly be from his mother.

Yet, when he returned to his room, there it was—just as if it had been waiting for him.

And when he read it…

The handwriting was unmistakably his mother’s.

He could never forget that script—she had been the one to teach him how to write.

But the contents were even more shocking.

The first half of the letter was filled with his mother’s aching longing for him.

So heartfelt that even Mayugyeom, who prided himself on his coldness, felt his eyes sting with tears.

But the latter half revealed why Hyeolma could only be his maternal grandfather.

It told the secret history of the Jeonga clan and the Maga clan.

How the Jeonga clan had fallen due to the greed of the Maga clan and the Jeomchang faction.

How Jeon Muhwang, the clan leader of Jeonga, had been forced to wander the martial world after losing his daughter.

His mother was that daughter.

Maywonwoong, the son of the Maga clan leader and disciple of Jeomchang, had not only destroyed the Jeonga clan but also violated Jeon Heegeum and taken her as his wife.

Only then did Mayugyeom understand the hateful look his mother always gave his father, and the sorrow in her eyes whenever he asked about his maternal family.

And he had no choice but to accept it.

This was the truth.

Suddenly, a question Sa Gunil had once asked him came to mind.

“Does Jeomchang deserve to rise again?”

At the time, he’d thought it was a ridiculous question.

He understood the sentiment, but he’d dismissed it as a trivial worry compared to the grand cause of Jeomchang’s revival.

But now…

“Ahahaha… hehehe… hahahahahaha!”

In the heart of the jungle, Mayugyeom burst into a wild, manic laughter.

Tears streamed down his face in two steady lines.