Episode 385: Return to the Demonic Sect
In the courtyard of the Demonic Sect’s training hall, the air was alive with tension.
A snake with shimmering silver scales glided gracefully through the moonlight, its movements as fluid as a dance.
Hiss, hiss, hiss!
The snake darted swiftly, as if swimming through the air, relentlessly pursuing invisible foes and driving them into a corner.
With a sudden, sharp motion, the snake transformed into a rigid sword, catching the moonlight on its blade.
Panting heavily, Maeseollan steadied herself, a bead of sweat trickling down her chin.
“Still not enough,” she thought, wiping her brow with her sleeve.
Her duties as the Inspector General had left little time for personal training, but since becoming an instructor at the Demonic Sect, she had more time to hone her skills.
Over the past month, Maeseollan had focused on perfecting her specialty, the Serpent Sword Technique.
“Just a bit more…!”
She refocused, extending her sword forward.
The flexible blade in her hand swayed like a serpent’s tail.
Hiss, hiss!
The sword flew through the air, echoing the cry of a snake.
This time, five adversaries appeared, closing in from behind.
But the sword, like a coiled serpent, wrapped around her, shielding her from their attacks.
As their assault failed, Maeseollan swiftly shifted to offense.
The silver snake glided over the moonlit ground, targeting the five foes one by one.
With a swift strike, one enemy fell.
Another was pierced through the heart, dying instantly.
A third had their throat slashed.
Finally, Maeseollan turned to face the fourth and fifth attackers, her sword poised to strike.
But…
“No! This won’t do…!”
The enemy’s speed outmatched her own, forcing her to twist away.
Their merciless blades sliced her shoulder and thigh.
Wounded, she watched more enemies approach, despair washing over her.
“Failure.”
She ceased fighting, withdrawing her sword, and the imagined foes vanished.
She had faced one supreme master and four elite warriors simultaneously, with ten more elite fighters set to join in moments.
She hadn’t managed to defeat the initial five in time.
Without eliminating the supreme master, she couldn’t hope to face the reinforcements.
“I need another.”
Maeseollan gazed at the sword in her right hand.
Facing enemies with just one sword was difficult.
If she’d had a second sword in her left hand, she could have saved time and launched a surprise attack.
But wielding two swords was vastly different from one; it could lead to greater disaster if mishandled.
Especially if both were flexible swords.
In the past, she might have thought her current skills were sufficient for self-defense.
But…
“If you’re content to stay where you are, that’s fine. But if ambition drives you, it can invigorate your life.”
These were the words of Sabigang, who had subtly encouraged her to master the Serpent Sword Technique.
The technique’s name, with “serpent” repeated twice, was no coincidence—it required mastering two flexible swords.
“Alright, I’ve decided. I’ll master the Serpent Sword Technique.”
Not to prepare for future troubles, nor for any grand cause of saving lives.
Simply to invigorate her life.
The thrill of her growing martial prowess was undeniable.
So, she needed another flexible sword.
“When he returns… I’ll ask him to find one for me.”
Maeseollan smiled softly.
She realized she’d never asked him for anything before.
She was curious about how he would react to her request.
“You’re safe, right?”
She tilted her head back, gazing at the moon.
Tonight, the moonlight felt especially cold.
Driven by this ominous feeling, she had come to the training ground for more rigorous practice.
Just then, she sensed someone approaching.
Turning, she saw it was Murang, the sage Sabigang had brought to the sect.
“You seem troubled.”
Murang immediately sensed her state.
Maeseollan chuckled.
“I guess I’m not cut out to be a master if I can’t hide my feelings.”
“Don’t blame yourself. No one can hide their true feelings from me.”
“Then, can you solve my worries?”
“If I could solve others’ worries, I’d be a deity, wouldn’t I? But…”
“But?”
“I can make predictions better than most, which might help lessen or prepare for troubles.”
“Then… can you tell me about the Sect Leader’s situation?”
“It’s hard to know precisely, but I can make an educated guess.”
Maeseollan stepped closer, eager.
“Could you find out for me?”
“Hmm. Follow me.”
Murang shrugged nonchalantly and led the way.
They entered the building where Murang usually stayed.
Above the entrance hung a plaque: “The Hall of Murang, the Wisest Under Heaven.”
Inside, Murang stepped into a square frame filled with sand.
Maeseollan instinctively knew not to enter and waited outside the frame.
Murang took a handful of sand, letting it slip through his fingers, then took a deep breath and pulled out sixteen sticks from his robe.
The sticks were inscribed with tiny characters, too small for Maeseollan to read.
Finally, Murang held the sticks, muttering incantations as he tossed them onto the sand.
“The celestial energy is full, the earthly energy harmonizes. The yin is strong, reading the yang, the fate is extreme, calculating the path.”
The sticks scattered across the sand.
Murang studied their arrangement intently.
Maeseollan felt a bit awkward, like a woman consulting a fortune teller.
As she was about to speak, Murang spoke first.
“The path may differ from expectations, but the Sect Leader’s energy is strong enough to find his way back.”
“You’re saying he’ll return safely?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Murang replied with a somewhat reluctant expression.
Maeseollan sighed in relief.
She joked, “Can I really trust your predictions…?”
As she spoke, she blinked in confusion.
A cold breeze brushed her cheek.
She looked around, bewildered.
Suddenly, she was back in the courtyard, holding her sword.
It had all happened so quickly, she couldn’t tell if it had been a dream or some enchantment.
Sweat still clung to her chin, her heart racing as if she’d just finished training.
**
Murang stared at the sticks scattered on the sand, his expression grave.
“This is… troublesome.”
He stroked his beard, sighing deeply.
This was unprecedented.
“Why isn’t he taking the open path?”
The path to survival was clear, yet the will was absent.
It all depended on Sabigang’s choice.
“What kind of man is he, that even my arts can’t penetrate further?”
Murang rose, a mix of anticipation and concern on his face, and walked to the window.
He sighed softly.
“Sect Leader Sabigang… you must return. There are more people waiting for you now.”
**
“The results should be in by now.”
The sect leader spoke in a low, steady voice from his seat in the grand hall.
“They should be.”
The masked man replied.
“If Sabigang survives the stone chamber…”
“The masked one will strike. It’s the perfect moment to ambush him, right after the battle.”
There were three possibilities.
First, Sabigang might not survive the stone chamber.
In that case, no one would likely emerge alive, not even the masked one.
Second, if Sabigang survived, the masked one would attack.
It would be the best chance to eliminate a weary Sabigang.
If successful, Sabigang would die, but the masked one would likely survive.
Lastly, if the ambush failed, only the masked one would be sacrificed.
But…
“There’s no chance Sabigang will break through the stone chamber.”
The sect leader nodded silently at the masked man’s words.
Even he would struggle to survive that place.
Only the supreme master could emerge from there.
“No one can survive it. Not even Sabigang.”
Yet, the sect leader considered all possibilities, a testament to his meticulous nature.
The masked man reaffirmed his certainty.
“Eunmyeon has already entered, fully prepared to face death. While Sabigang may not be able to defeat the master of the stone chamber, there’s always that slim chance. Miracles don’t happen easily, you know. But if one does occur, that’s when Eunmyeon will truly shine.”
“Indeed,” the cult leader nodded, then asked, “Who’s stationed at Haboksan?”
“Hoemyeon is keeping watch. We should hear something soon.”
“Let’s hope it’s good news,” the leader said, leaning back and closing his eyes.
Whoooosh!
Sssssss!
Around Sabigang, who had let his sword hang by his side, a blood-red aura swirled relentlessly. The students watched his back in silence, barely daring to breathe.
With a worried expression, Yeosojung whispered to Pyo Harim beside her, “Do you think… he’ll be alright?”
“I… I don’t know,” Pyo Harim replied, uncertainty in his voice. One thing was clear: something was definitely off.
Since dispatching the woman, Sabigang hadn’t moved an inch. He stood there, head bowed, as if he had turned to stone.
“Huff, huff, huff…!” His ragged breaths echoed rhythmically in the students’ ears, a primal warning urging them to keep their distance.
Just then, a deep rumble filled the air as the stone chamber’s door began to slowly open.
“It’s opening!”
“We can finally get out of here!”
“Shh! Quiet!” Fung Geomjin quickly raised a finger to his lips, silencing the excited students. The sudden noise had caused Sabigang to twitch.
“Let’s… let’s get out of here first!” Deung Buhyeong urged, his voice tense.
“What about the leader?” Neung Soso asked sharply.
“He’ll find his own way out! If we hesitate because of him, we’ll only be a burden!” Deung Buhyeong’s reasoning was sound, and Neung Soso bit her lip, holding back further questions.
Deung Buhyeong glanced around at the students. “I’ll go first. Follow me!”
Without waiting for a response, he leaped forward. But as he passed by Sabigang,
Sssssss!
Sabigang suddenly unleashed a deadly aura, lunging at Deung Buhyeong.
In an instant, Jaunryong and Wigumjong sprang into action, racing toward Sabigang with lightning speed.