The Manor’s Courtyard
Dang Mujin leapt over the wall, swiftly dispatching three men who had been caught in the traps. With a flourish, he flicked the blood from his sword.
“So, it begins.”
He turned to look behind him.
Under the moonlight, warriors from the Dang family, nuns from the Amipa sect, and Taoists from the Cheongseong sect stood in neat rows, ready for battle.
Dang Mujin naturally took his place at the forefront. It wasn’t because he was the strongest or most respected among them; it was simply because he was the host.
But that didn’t matter. Standing in the most impressive spot was enough.
The main gate of the Dang family estate creaked open, revealing the warriors of the Demonic Cult. They all eyed Dang Mujin with tense expressions.
At the head of the group was a young man wielding a long spear, not much older than Dang Mujin himself. Judging by his demeanor, he seemed to be the leader of the Demonic Cult’s warriors.
“Is that the Grand Protector or the Right Protector?” Dang Mujin mused.
The man with the spear muttered, “Welcoming us without even locking the gate… You must be confident.”
In truth, the gate wasn’t locked because Dang Mujin had cut the latch earlier. But with so many ears listening, he decided to play along.
“The Dang family estate is open to all,” he declared. “Whether you’re seeking help in times of trouble or looking for a place to die.”
He thought it was a rather clever response. A good answer should make the opponent uneasy, and sure enough, the expressions of the Demonic Cult’s warriors grew more rigid.
The man with the spear thumped the ground with the butt of his weapon and asked, “Are you the head of the Dang family?”
“I am.”
“What did you do to the wall?”
Dang Mujin glanced at the bodies of the three men who had died trying to scale the wall and chuckled.
“That’s what happens when you underestimate the mistress of the Dang family.”
“Mistress?”
“Yes.”
The Dang family had two mistresses. The intricate traps scattered throughout the estate were the handiwork of Dan Seol-young, while the tiny blood-sucking insects flitting around the gate were the work of Mok Wan-ah.
The Demonic Cult’s warriors seemed oblivious to the danger posed by the tiny insects, no bigger than half a fingernail.
“They’ll find out soon enough.”
Dang Mujin then turned the question back to the man with the spear. “And who might you be?”
The man responded eagerly, “I am the Right Protector of the Demonic Cult, known as the Spear that Pierces the Moon.”
Dang Mujin nodded indifferently. “So, you’re the Right Protector. A spear that pierces the moon, huh…”
In his experience, young warriors with grandiose titles often gave them to themselves. The nickname “Spear that Pierces the Moon” seemed to fit that pattern.
But the Right Protector wasn’t finished. He fixed Dang Mujin with a piercing gaze. “In the past, I was known as Jo Eul-hyeon of the Sangsan Jo family.”
“Jo Eul-hyeon, the Spear that Pierces the Moon. I see.”
Dang Mujin replied nonchalantly, but Jo Eul-hyeon continued to stare at him intently.
“Doesn’t my name ring any bells?”
Dang Mujin thought for a moment. No one came to mind.
“Not really.”
“Where is Namgung Myeong, the Fiendish Sword, from your group?”
“He’s not here at the Dang estate. Why do you ask?”
When Dang Mujin inquired, Jo Eul-hyeon’s eyes blazed with anger.
“You bastard…! Don’t play dumb!”
“What are you talking about? If you have a grudge against Namgung Myeong, go find him. The Namgung family is in Tianzhu Mountain, Anhui Province.”
Dang Mujin didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with baseless anger, but he answered politely. After all, a man becomes more generous when he becomes a father.
But Jo Eul-hyeon repaid Dang Mujin’s courtesy with a shout infused with inner strength.
“Do you really not know why I, Jo Eul-hyeon of the Sangsan Jo family, had to join the Demonic Cult to revive my clan?”
Dang Mujin pondered for a moment before concluding, “How would I know? It seems like your mind is muddled from practicing demonic arts. Don’t take it out on innocent people.”
Jo Eul-hyeon took a deep breath, looking up at the sky, then suddenly lunged with his spear, aiming for Dang Mujin’s heart.
It was a swift and bold strike, one that could have killed even a seasoned master.
But Dang Mujin evaded it with ease.
He had sparred with many masters and had anticipated that the Right Protector might try something rash.
“Fast, but not as fast as the descendants of the Jeomchang sect.”
Before Jo Eul-hyeon could launch another attack, Dang Mujin leapt back, criticizing him.
“Did you use your family’s name just to catch me off guard? You’re a disgrace!”
“You bastard! Kill them all!”
At Jo Eul-hyeon’s command, the Demonic Cult’s warriors charged at the orthodox sect’s fighters.
Jo Eul-hyeon lunged at Dang Mujin again, but this time, Hong Geolgae intercepted, deflecting the spear with his staff.
“I, Hong Geon of the Dragon Head Hall of the Beggars’ Sect, will take you on!”
Hong Geolgae boldly stepped forward.
Though Hong Geolgae’s skills were inferior to the Right Protector’s, he had a trump card. His martial arts were particularly well-suited for this fight.
While he was proficient with the staff, he excelled in close-quarters combat.
Against a spear, which relies on maintaining distance, close-quarters techniques were highly effective.
If Hong Geolgae were a novice, he might not have been able to close the distance and would have been skewered. But one of his main techniques was the Drunken Eight Immortals Steps.
The beauty of the Drunken Eight Immortals Steps lay in its unpredictable movements.
So unpredictable, in fact, that even Namgung Jincheon and the Three-Eyed Buddha, both a few levels above Hong Geolgae, struggled to anticipate his moves. Hong Geolgae narrowly dodged the spear, closing in on the Right Protector.
The Right Protector tried to shake him off by swinging the spear horizontally, but Hong Geolgae clung to him like a leech, refusing to let go.
“Not bad for Hong Geolgae.”
Instead of joining Hong Geolgae, Dang Mujin retreated, leaping onto the roof of the estate’s main hall.
He knew his greatest strength was his ability to influence the entire battlefield. It was a unique advantage that no other warrior could replicate.
Dang Mujin hurled a flying wheel, shouting, “Here, catch this!”
The wheel sliced through the night sky, weaving through the chaos of hundreds of warriors, and found its mark. Several Demonic Cult warriors fell, blood spraying.
“Kill the head of the Dang family first! He’s throwing hidden weapons!”
Many among the Demonic Cult recognized the threat of the flying wheel. But they couldn’t easily reach Dang Mujin.
The orthodox sect’s warriors surrounded the main hall, preventing any approach. Even if they managed to break through, they would have to contend with the intricate traps laid out like a spider’s web.
And even if they miraculously bypassed the traps, Dang Mujin’s sword was not something amateurs could handle.
Catching the returning flying wheel, Dang Mujin surveyed the battlefield.
“As expected, we’re slightly outmatched.”
The orthodox sect’s core strength lay in three top-tier masters: Dang Mujin, Hong Geolgae, and Wi Jin-hyang.
In contrast, the Demonic Cult had the Right Protector, the Left Protector, Gwang Yeom-ra, and a few half-baked top-tier fighters. In terms of both skill and numbers, the orthodox sect was slightly at a disadvantage.
However, the Demonic Cult’s warriors couldn’t fully capitalize on this. The hidden traps everywhere meant that a moment’s carelessness could lead to serious injury.
Moreover, Wi Jin-hyang’s performance was dazzling.
She wielded her twin swords with skill, her attire more suited for a grand ball than a battlefield.
But what truly captivated onlookers was not her attire, but her striking beauty and the gleam in her eyes that suggested she was genuinely enjoying the fight.
If one had to choose a protagonist for this battle, it would undoubtedly be Wi Jin-hyang.
“With her drawing attention on one side, it eases the pressure on the other.”
The reason the orthodox sect’s warriors weren’t easily overwhelmed wasn’t just because of that. Dang Mujin spotted the Left Protector and Gwang Yeom-ra on the battlefield.
“Get lost, you small fry!”
The Left Protector and Gwang Yeom-ra seemed to be fighting fiercely.
But Dang Mujin noticed that their attacks were filled with mercy. They would push their opponents with their swords, only to send them flying with palm strikes or kicks.
Especially Gwang Yeom-ra, who was considering defecting to the orthodox sect in the future, had no intention of making enemies.
Amidst the chaotic melee, Dang Mujin spotted another familiar face: Ma Ga-deung.
He had once escaped the Demonic Cult, seeking a cure for the side effects of demonic arts, only to be beaten by Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae and imprisoned in the basement of Amisan’s Geumjeong Pavilion.
Dang Mujin realized why Ma Ga-deung was among the Demonic Cult’s warriors.
“He must have been released when the Amipa sect fell.”
Maga-deung was locked in combat with Hyang Baek-sa-tae, the leader of the Ami Sect. Despite being more skilled, he wasn’t overpowering Hyang Baek-sa-tae as one might expect. In fact, it seemed more like he was holding back, reluctant to fully engage in the fight.
Meanwhile, Dang Mu-jin, who was fighting a little distance away, sent a secret message to Myeong Ryeon-sa-tae, the head of Geumjeong Pavilion.
Master of Geumjeong Pavilion, this is Dang Mu-jin. Has something happened between you and Maga-deung?
What? No, nothing special. Maga-deung has been diligently practicing the Cheongsang Fist, and his character doesn’t seem particularly malicious, so I’ve treated him well.
Dang Mu-jin pressed further.
You’re not just saying that, are you?
…Why are you asking all of a sudden?
It’s important.
I’ve taken good care of him. Whenever we received meat offerings, I made sure to share them with Maga-deung.
Clearing his throat, Dang Mu-jin lowered his voice and sent a message to Maga-deung.
Maga-deung immediately looked around, startled. Dang Mu-jin quickly sent another message.
Maga-deung’s eyes widened at the unexpected revelation. He glanced at Gwang Yeom-ra to verify the claim and noticed the benevolence in Gwang Yeom-ra’s actions.
Dang Mu-jin continued.
Maga-deung nodded slightly in Gwang Yeom-ra’s direction, though Gwang Yeom-ra remained unaware of the gesture’s significance.
Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Maga-deung discreetly retreated and vanished beyond the Tang family’s grounds.
Dang Mu-jin shivered slightly with excitement. To sway the Demonic Cult’s forces with secret messages! The potential of mimicking Gwang Yeom-ra’s voice was limitless.
He looked up at the sky. The moon had shifted slightly since the battle began.
“It’s almost time.”
Gwang Yeom-ra and the Left Guardian were more neutral parties caught between the righteous sects and the Demonic Cult. To continue exploiting Gwang Yeom-ra’s voice, Dang Mu-jin needed him alive. He busily tossed and caught his flying wheels, sending another message to Gwang Yeom-ra.
Gwang Yeom-ra glanced at him, responding with a hint of suspicion.
Why the sudden friendliness?
I’m about to unleash a powerful technique. If you don’t want to die, get out of here.
Gwang Yeom-ra frowned slightly.
But Dang Mu-jin’s voice was serious, devoid of any jest.
In the exchange of goodwill, their relationship grew closer. Dang Mu-jin added one last thing.
Gwang Yeom-ra hesitated, his lips moving slightly. Judging by his glances, he seemed to be sending a message to the Left Guardian.
The two exchanged looks with Dang Mu-jin before quietly slipping out of the Tang family grounds. Some Demonic Cult warriors eyed them suspiciously, but they managed to make their way out through the main gate.
As the appointed time approached, Dang Mu-jin lowered his hands, which had been tossing the flying wheels, and checked the wind’s direction. It blew from behind him.
A peculiar energy, difficult to describe as poison, seeped from every pore of Dang Mu-jin’s body, slowly enveloping the battlefield.
Moments later, he filled his voice with inner strength and shouted loudly.
“Anyone who wants to live, flee now!”
The Demonic Cult warriors looked at Dang Mu-jin, but their expressions were more mocking than fearful. It seemed victory was within their grasp, and none attempted to flee.
Dang Mu-jin had anticipated their reaction, which is why he smiled.
More than half of the Demonic Cult warriors who had entered through the Tang family’s gate had been bitten by blood-sucking insects, receiving a faint poison known as Sanbaek Yang Poison. Harmless on its own, it had spread through their bodies as they fought for over an hour.
Now, they inhaled the mysterious energy emanating from Dang Mu-jin, the Sanbaek Yin Poison.
Typically, a warrior would expel poison from their body upon realizing its presence. However, the Sanbaek Yang Poison had already spread without symptoms.
Dang Mu-jin stood on the roof, silhouetted against the moonlight, mocking the Demonic Cult warriors.
“Did you really think I lured you into the Tang family grounds without a plan? That I invited you through the front gate without any strategy?”
When the Sanbaek Yin and Yang Poisons combined, they transformed into a deadly toxin known as Sanbaek Jinxiang.
Only then did the Demonic Cult warriors sense something was amiss.
“What…?”
As if the connection between body and soul had been severed, they collapsed with wide eyes.
Their minds remained clear, but breathing became difficult, and their limbs stiffened like wooden planks.
There was no time to worry about tactics or formations. Those lucky enough to avoid the Sanbaek Jinxiang fled the Tang family grounds in confusion.
The immobilized warriors lay sprawled, watching the righteous sect warriors approach.
Dang Mu-jin walked toward the struggling Demonic Cult warriors, speaking as he went.
“I told you to run. Ignoring others’ warnings—that’s the cause of your demise.”
With those words, Dang Mu-jin drew his sword.