Dang Mujin and his group kept a cautious distance from the Cult Leader’s party as they headed west.

Of course, they would have preferred to widen that gap even more. The problem was the Cult Leader’s uncanny awareness. Even while looking ahead, he could sense the exact distance between himself and Dang Mujin’s group following behind.

“Does he have eyes in the back of his head…?”

The first day of their journey passed in tense silence, but by the second day, the tension had noticeably eased. By the third day, conversations began to flow between the two groups.

On the fifth night, as the air grew chillier, the five of them gathered around a campfire.

As they exchanged stories that felt hollow, Dang Mujin asked the Cult Leader, “What brought about this change of heart?”

His tone was respectful, though not overly deferential. Fortunately, the Cult Leader wasn’t expecting flattery.

“Change?” the Cult Leader echoed.

“At first, I thought you were just fleeing west after losing the Great Demon War. But now, it seems there’s more to it. It’s like you’ve become a different person…”

Dang Mujin had encountered the Cult Leader three times: at the Demon Sect, on Mount Wudang, and now. While the Cult Leader’s appearance hadn’t changed much, his aura was different each time.

The first time, Dang Mujin thought the Cult Leader was a madman, exuding a calm yet deadly presence. On Mount Wudang, he seemed like a child—overwhelmed by his own power and unsure of what to do with it.

Now, Dang Mujin saw him as an ordinary person, perhaps even more generous and composed than most. If they had met at a Taoist temple, he wouldn’t have felt any unease.

The Cult Leader didn’t answer immediately, instead poking the fire with a stick. Sparks flew up into the night sky.

After a long pause, he spoke. “Well… how should I put it? You said you’re from Sichuan, so you must know the martial arts of the Qingcheng Sect.”

“Yes,” Dang Mujin replied.

“I once learned their martial arts through… less than honorable means.”

It was a story Dang Mujin had heard before. A wanderer had secretly taught the Cult Leader the basics of Qingcheng’s martial arts.

But Dang Mujin feigned ignorance. It was better not to acknowledge that the Cult Leader had learned forbidden techniques or that he had become the leader of the Demon Sect.

The Cult Leader continued, “Practicing Qingcheng’s martial arts clears the mind and calms the heart. It’s like sitting on a moss-covered rock, watching a still lake. That’s the essence of orthodox martial arts.”

Dang Mujin couldn’t relate. The martial arts he learned had no such effect. In fact, it would have been strange if they did.

“I wasn’t satisfied with just that. I sought out techniques that no one else had mastered. And then… my mind cleared again.”

“Hmm.”

Dang Mujin and Namgung Myung exchanged skeptical glances. Could someone with a clear mind have waged the Great Demon War? Their looks conveyed doubt.

The Cult Leader chuckled bitterly. “Yes, it was a delusion. My mind wasn’t clear; I just couldn’t see how confused and clouded it had become.”

“Are you saying it was demonic cultivation?”

“Perhaps.”

Dang Mujin gathered his courage. “Blaming your past misdeeds on demonic cultivation is a cowardly excuse.”

The Cult Leader shook his head. “No, I’ve never thought that.”

He tossed a piece of kindling into the fire, which crackled loudly.

“I don’t think my life has been happy or fortunate. Things rarely went as planned. But learning martial arts was my choice, and the consequences are my burden.”

He seemed to have no intention of shirking responsibility. Claiming otherwise wouldn’t change anything.

“So, how did you improve your state of mind?”

“Getting injured and treating my internal wounds turned out to be a blessing in disguise.”

Namgung Young, listening proudly, puffed out his chest, while Daehobum glared at him with a murderous look.

“A blessing in disguise, huh.”

“Yes. I managed to glimpse the next stage.”

Dang Mujin was taken aback. The Cult Leader was talking about transcending to a higher realm, something rarely achieved.

“Really?”

When Dang Mujin asked, the Cult Leader nodded. “I couldn’t articulate it, but I saw it. I truly saw it.”

“What was it like?”

Asking about another’s enlightenment could be seen as rude, but the Cult Leader seemed willing to share. Dang Mujin’s hunch was correct.

“How to describe it… It was like sinking deep within myself to heal, sitting at the bottom, staring at a dark, sticky sky. As I waited, the energy from the elixir began to dissolve everything. The black sky melted away.”

The Cult Leader paused, then continued.

“Beyond that was emptiness. Everything I had built up, all the layers of filth, melted away, leaving my mind clear. I saw the true essence of the first martial art I learned.”

The Cult Leader’s words were abstract, but such conversations could serve as a guidepost. The four people around the fire listened intently.

“I remembered my childhood. The hunger, but also the satisfaction. And I realized what that initial comfort and peace meant. Once I understood the beginning, the false clarity became murky again, and the seemingly clean became dirty. By daring to control, I found balance. Now, I can act without haste, and soon, I’ll reach the next stage.”

While not everything was clear, one thing was certain: the Cult Leader believed he could reach the next level.

Yet Dang Mujin felt no threat from him. The Cult Leader’s past misdeeds remained, but he seemed to have changed, unlikely to repeat them.

“That’s a relief…”

The Cult Leader murmured, “And with a clear mind, I realized my true duty.”

“Duty?”

“Yes. To uphold the teachings. To be a refuge for the persecuted and the sinners, as the previous Cult Leader did. That’s my task.”

The Cult Leader was referring to his predecessor. He continued slowly.

”…And I realized I wasn’t meant to be the Cult Leader. I called myself one, but I never truly was… It’s funny now.”

“What’s so funny?”

“I meddled when I should have left things alone, and now I’m trying to fix it. It’s a foolish cycle.”

The Cult Leader laughed, a sound that seemed to echo through the ages.

Dang Mujin felt a twinge of unease. If the current Cult Leader returned to the chaos of the Demon Sect, what would happen?

…It was uncertain.

But one thing was clear: bringing it up now would be a mistake.

’…What should I do?’

Dang Mujin glanced at Namgung Myung, who wore a forced smile.

Some problems have no solutions, and this was one of those times.

In such situations, Dang Mujin knew there was only one thing to do: find peace of mind.

‘Once we part ways at the mountain, it’ll be over. Things will work out somehow…’

The five of them settled down to sleep, maintaining their cautious distance from each other. Trust wasn’t complete, so they leaned against trees rather than lying on the ground.

As she had for the past few days, Eom Soyun sat a little apart from the Cult Leader.

’…It’s awkward with everyone watching.’

After leaving the fishing village, the sect leader took good care of Eom Soyun. However, this didn’t mean she had succeeded in capturing his heart as she had hoped. The sect leader treated her like a daughter—one who had long passed the age of marriage without a single proposal.

Eom Soyun had intended to ensnare the sect leader for her own amusement, so her plans had gone quite awry. Still, she chose to see the bright side.

“Even if we’re not really father and daughter, we’re much closer than before. When a man and a woman spend time together, feelings are bound to develop. I just need to seize the right moment and reel him in.”

The problem was that she felt embarrassed to display this ambiguous relationship in front of the three uninvited guests. They weren’t lovers, nor were they truly like family. It was an awkward bond where they protected each other. That’s why Eom Soyun chose to sleep a little distance away from the sect leader.

“I hope we reach Gongdong Mountain soon and leave only the stones behind. Where’s a scenic spot on the way to Cheonsan? I’ll wait for the right moment, get him drunk on some strong liquor…”

With a serious expression, Eom Soyun drifted off to sleep, her mind filled with rosy thoughts.

Who knows how much time had passed. In her sleep, Eom Soyun sensed a faint, cautious presence.

Her heart pounded as adrenaline surged through her veins.

“Is it the sect leader? Could it be that he’s finally fallen for my charms?”

But a contrary thought popped into her head.

”…No, there are those uninvited guests. I doubt the sect leader would make a move in front of them. Then again, I’ve heard some people are into that…”

As she pondered, the presence stopped right in front of her. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel a heated gaze trying to conceal itself.

“Is it really the sect leader? I should carefully shift my position without breaking the mood. Whether those assassins escape or not, tonight’s history…”

With that thought, Eom Soyun cracked her eyes open slightly.

But the person in front of her wasn’t the sect leader. It was the last man she wanted to see, crouched down and staring at her intently.

Behind him, she could see others—the monks from Shaolin she had seen at Wudang Mountain, and renowned martial artists from the orthodox sects…

She was surrounded.

How did they find her?

Eom Soyun’s eyes met the man’s, filled with urgency and disbelief.

Jang Il-nam spoke in a calm voice.

“Running won’t do you any good.”