Even in his dazed state, Dang Moo-jin could feel a rhythmic swaying.

It wasn’t the slow, heavy rocking he was used to when traveling the Yangtze River by boat. This was a different kind of swaying, one that stirred a peculiar sense of nostalgia.

His mind drifted back to distant memories.

He found himself in his childhood, seeing his father from long ago. In his memories, Dang Se-seon’s face was even younger than his own now.

Whenever young Moo-jin would cry for attention over trivial matters, his father would appear out of nowhere to carry him on his back. Moo-jin would close his eyes, savoring the gentle sway, the warmth, and the soft touch of his father’s back.

“At my age, to be dreaming of my father… Is this a dream?”

No, it wasn’t.

The scent he was sensing now wasn’t his father’s. There was no trace of the distinctive herbal aroma his father carried. Moreover, the body carrying him was unusually large and firm, not like his father’s at all.

Moo-jin opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a shiny, leafy head. It was Sam Man. Sam Man-hyung was carrying him.

Sam An-bul, walking steadily, was the first to notice Moo-jin had awakened.

“You’re up.”

“Ah, yes.”

Moo-jin tried to get down from Sam An-bul’s back, but Sam An-bul didn’t let him.

“Stay on a bit longer.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing for a grown man, especially someone like me, to be carried around like this…”

“Didn’t you always complain about patients who couldn’t even stand properly yet insisted on wandering around the moment they regained consciousness?”

Moo-jin had no retort. Sam An-bul was right; his current behavior mirrored the very patients he used to grumble about.

“I’ll let you down once we reach the vicinity of Mu Mang Mountain, so just stay put.”

It was indeed a blow to his pride, being the head of the Dang family and all, to be carried by someone else. But since he had already been on Sam An-bul’s back for quite some time, a little longer wouldn’t restore his lost dignity.

”…Alright.”

“Good decision.”

With his eyes closed again, Moo-jin assessed his physical condition.

His energy flow was tangled and knotted in various places. The three deadly poisons he had suppressed were now surging through his body, causing him immense discomfort. But the most troubling was the headache, a throbbing pain that felt like his head was splitting. It was clear that the Mancheonhwa technique had taken a significant toll on him.

He needed to rest and recuperate, but he wasn’t sure if he could fully recover to his previous state. Just as scars remain after wounds heal, the traces of using Mancheonhwa would linger on his body and mind. He recalled the martial artists of the Demon Sect, struggling desperately to survive.

‘How many did I kill?’

Dozens? Hundreds? He couldn’t be sure of the exact number. The number of lives taken to avenge one death was staggering.

Moo-jin felt guilt, but he didn’t regret it.

In his view, repaying one death with another wasn’t sufficient revenge or justice. It was merely an exchange, a transaction involving lives.

To prevent such situations from repeating, Moo-jin believed he had to teach people that such actions came with a tremendous cost. He had to show that if you were wronged, you should repay it tenfold, or even a hundredfold.

So he killed dozens, perhaps hundreds. He directly confronted the martial artists of the Demon Sect and made sure the righteous martial artists witnessed it. Soon, even the rogue martial artists would hear the rumors.

While lost in thought, a familiar voice reached him.

“Impressive.”

Moo-jin opened his eyes and looked to his side. Hwa Yeon-shin was walking with light, bird-like steps.

“I thought it was just youthful bravado, but I never imagined you’d display such prowess.”

Hwa Yeon-shin was not one to give praise easily.

Even in his memories, it was rare for Hwa Yeon-shin to offer such straightforward compliments. Moo-jin chuckled awkwardly.

He glanced around. The martial artists nearby were watching him. They were all prominent figures in the righteous martial world, known for their stories and reputations.

But unlike Hwa Yeon-shin or Sam An-bul, their gazes weren’t filled with simple trust or admiration.

A martial artist of high achievement naturally draws respect and admiration from others. But occasionally, someone becomes a figure of fear and awe instead. Moo-jin was one of those rare individuals. And, in a way, it was something he had hoped for.

Moo-jin exchanged a few words with Hwa Yeon-shin. As their conversation ended, Nam Goong-myung and Hyun Gong approached.

Moo-jin noticed a familiar sword at Nam Goong-myung’s waist. It was Jo Ho-beom’s sword.

Moo-jin asked, “Did everything go well?”

“Yes. The revenge is complete.”

Yet Nam Goong-myung’s expression wasn’t bright.

“Then why the long face? Isn’t defeating Jo Ho-beom without a scratch enough for you?”

Nam Goong-myung shook his head.

“I didn’t kill Jo Ho-beom. He gave up on life. I was confident I could defeat him, but…”

“Gave up on life?”

“Yes. He spoke of some debt of gratitude towards you and Hwa Yeon-shin before he died. What was he talking about?”

Moo-jin was puzzled by Jo Ho-beom’s final words. He shared the story with Nam Goong-myung and Hyun Gong, recounting what he had heard.

Gwang Yeom-gun sighed deeply.

“That’s just like him.”

The context of Jo Ho-beom’s death was baffling. Moo-jin couldn’t easily grasp what that evaluation meant.

“What kind of person was Jo Ho-beom?”

“A loyal and straightforward man, always respectful of the martial sects. I think he was from somewhere in Shaanxi…”

“What crime did he commit to end up in the Demon Sect?”

“Even after joining the Demon Sect, he committed various acts, but I doubt he had any crimes before that. If anything, his naivety was his downfall.”

“Tell me more.”

Seeing Moo-jin’s curiosity, Gwang Yeom-gun smirked.

“I only know bits and pieces from what I’ve heard, so it might not be entirely accurate.”

“That’s fine.”

“They say he was a promising talent in a small sect in Shaanxi, surpassing even the elders in skill. But the sect leader couldn’t overcome his doubts and went into seclusion.”

“With the sect leader gone at such a young age, did he turn to the Demon Sect for support?”

Gwang Yeom-gun shook his head.

“Not quite. Just listen. The sect leader left a letter for Jo Ho-beom. It wasn’t anything grand. Just a request to revive the sect in his stead. It was the kind of thing a leader might say out of formality. But Jo Ho-beom took it to heart.”

“Why would that be a problem?”

“If he hadn’t been so naive, he might have succeeded. But…”

Moo-jin couldn’t understand Gwang Yeom-gun’s story. Despite receiving help from many, Moo-jin had largely built his own path.

But Gwang Yeom-gun clicked his tongue.

“Your hometown, Sichuan, is a unique place. It’s somewhat isolated, with the Emei and Qingcheng sects dominating the region, so there’s little conflict. There are hardly any mid-level sects. But Shaanxi is different. There’s fierce competition for resources.”

“Even so, it’s not like there’s constant bloodshed, right? It’s not like the rogue sects have taken over Shaanxi.”

Gwang Yeom-gun scoffed.

“Of course not. People are the same everywhere. It’s not just the rogue sects that use underhanded tactics. It’s common to poach people or slowly encroach on territories. And they do all sorts of shady things.”

“Hmm.”

“Plus, Jo Ho-beom was too trusting by nature. To other sect leaders, he must have seemed like easy prey. They’d poach his people, block any profitable opportunities… A sect can wither away quickly like that.”

“What about the others? Surely the sect leader wasn’t the only elder in the sect.”

“I never heard of any elders helping. In fact, some even quietly moved to other sects.”

There are many people like that in the world. Those who lack the capability or confidence to take on significant responsibilities. That’s not a problem in itself. But when such people refuse to accept others rising above them, that’s when issues arise.

“Even if everything was taken from him, with Jo Ho-beom’s talent, he could have kept the sect alive. And with experience, he could have rebuilt its strength…”

Gwang Yeom-gun waved his hand dismissively.

“Do you think those who took everything from him would just back off? No, they wouldn’t. To ensure there are no future repercussions, they need to finish things cleanly.”

“Finish?”

“What do you think?”

Gwang-yeong drew a line across his throat with his thumb.

“Anyway, Yeon Sa-ok was barely surviving, constantly on the run, when he met the cult leader. The leader took him to the demonic cult. Knowing his personality, he probably didn’t hide anything, so that’s likely the whole story.”

Dang Mu-jin felt a mix of importance and a tinge of pity for Jwa Ho-beom. Killing someone who isn’t inherently evil always leaves a bitter aftertaste.

Yet, Dang Mu-jin still had questions.

“What about Dae Ho-beom? Do you know anything about him?”

“I’ve talked to him a few times, so I know a bit. He said he was from the Sal-ak assassins.”

“Sal-ak?”

Dang Mu-jin felt a chill. Sal-ak… Could there still be remnants of that group? He might have to hold Dae Ho-beom accountable for the sins of the past.

“Yes. I heard he was recommended as a branch leader at a young age because of his skills.”

“Hmm… Anyway, go on.”

“He became a branch leader and waited for orders from the main Sal-ak group, but they never came.”

“And then?”

“After about a year, he heard rumors that the main group had fallen. The news was slow to reach him because of the cell structure…”

Gwang-yeong pointed at Dang Mu-jin.

“Of course, that was because of you.”

”…”

Dang Mu-jin was momentarily speechless, then asked Gwang-yeong again.

“So, did he join the demonic cult to rebuild Sal-ak or something?”

Gwang-yeong shook his head.

“What could an assassin do when their organization disappears? All he knew was how to wield a sword, and he couldn’t just pretend to be a righteous martial artist, so he joined the demonic cult.”

”…Is that all?”

Dang Mu-jin had hoped for a grand, sinister reason, but none came.

“Yes. Quite a few assassins joined the cult around that time, not just Dae Ho-beom. Among them, Dae Ho-beom stood out because of his talent and the martial arts the leader taught him suited him well. He worked harder than others to achieve great success, partly because he wanted to impress the leader. Oh, and Dae Ho-beom has a bit of a crush on the leader.”

Unexpectedly, Dang Mu-jin learned a trivial piece of information. In the end, people’s lives are all quite similar.

Under the guidance of Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong, the funeral preparations were complete.

It would have been natural to hold the funeral in the style of the Beggars’ Sect, slightly modified from the civilian way, but Hong Geol-gae’s funeral was different. It was a blend of Taoist, Buddhist, and civilian traditions.

There was a reason for this. Officially, it was Hong Geol-gae’s funeral, but it was also for the many warriors who died in the Wudang battle. In fact, memorial tablets for others were made and placed beside Hong Geol-gae’s.

Hong Geol-gae wasn’t the type to be narrow-minded, so he would understand sharing the ceremony with others. Dang Mu-jin and his two friends thought so.

The funeral proceeded naturally, without any formal announcement. A funeral begins with its preparation, after all.

The martial artists looked at the memorial tablets with somber expressions. They prayed for Hong Geol-gae’s peace and for the departed souls of their sect to find paradise.

The Beggars’ Sect members who were close to Hong Geol-gae shed tears without setting up an altar. Many murmured among themselves.

Considering how short a time Hong Geol-gae had been alone, it was remarkable.

‘Seems like Hong Geol-gae was well-regarded among the Beggars’ Sect…’

Seeing the grieving members, Dang Mu-jin’s eyes welled up. He quietly pressed his eyes. Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong were in a similar state.

Not everyone was just mourning. Some martial artists quietly voiced their dissatisfaction.

“The leader of the Beggars’ Sect is quite inconsiderate.”

“Indeed. I heard he showed up in Sichuan, but why hasn’t he come to Wudang? Even if he didn’t join the fight, shouldn’t he at least show his face since the chief has died?”

“Skill and talent in martial arts aren’t everything.”

Initially, it was just regret towards Cheon Kyung-bae Hong Geol, but the voices grew more heated. Some even criticized Cheon Kyung-bae Hong Geol.

“Unlike the acting chief, Cheon Kyung-bae hasn’t achieved much. All he did was make a splash at the martial arts tournament.”

“The elders of the Beggars’ Sect really lack judgment.”

“I heard the acting chief is more accomplished. How can they place Cheon Kyung-bae in the leader’s position just for his talent, pushing aside Hong Geol-gae?”

Some who were well-versed in the martial world’s politics made sharp observations.

“I heard the positions of the chief and the leader of the Beggars’ Sect are naturally at odds. Maybe the leader’s resentment is why he didn’t show up for the funeral.”

“For such a petty reason? The late Seol Jin-pae was generous, even if he was strict. But Cheon Kyung-bae… sigh!”

Though they spoke in hushed tones, the words of those with high status were clear. Dang Mu-jin, Hyun Gong, and Namgung Myung felt conflicted. People were criticizing and praising Hong Geol-gae, mourning and lamenting him.

However, Dang Mu-jin and his friends weren’t bothered by the murmurs. Given the situation, it was understandable.

‘Seeing so many people angry for Hong Geol-gae, he must have had quite the charisma in life.’

But the Beggars’ Sect found the situation uncomfortable. Cheon Kyung-bae Hong Geol wasn’t the head of the sect, so outsiders criticizing the leader didn’t sit well with them.

The funeral, a mix of various traditions, flowed long and quietly.

On the third evening, everyone staying at Wudang gathered in front of the memorial tablets. It was time to conclude the funeral.

Hong Geol-gae had no family, and the leader couldn’t attend. His friend, Dang Mu-jin, read the eulogy in a voice devoid of emotion.

Finally, Namgung Myung knelt before Hong Geol-gae’s tablet. He placed a green bamboo staff and Jwa Ho-beom’s sword in front of it. The crowd watched in solemn silence.

Namgung Myung couldn’t bring himself to rise, staring at the tablet for a long time before letting out a deep sigh. Hong Ju-san. Those three words weighed heavily.

‘I’m sorry. Rest in peace, my friend…’

With a heavy heart, Namgung Myung stood up. At that moment, he heard a few people whispering.

”…So, he’s not completely without manners.”

“Indeed…”

Someone had arrived late. Namgung Myung thought as he turned around.

And then he saw Dang Mu-jin and Hyun Gong, their expressions frozen. They had clearly lost their composure.

‘Could it be the cult leader?’

Namgung Myung’s eyes followed the crowd’s gaze.

And then, Namgung Myung’s eyes met those of Cheon Ryeong-gae Hong Geon.

”…”

A tension settled over the once relaxed funeral.