Chapter 399: The Pursued (2)
‘We’ve already lost to him in the psychological battle.’
Just by standing there in silence, his gaze alone was enough to crush their spirit.
They almost wished he would at least say something—anything—to wash away the suffocating fear.
But Yong Hwarin simply stood still, his eyes scanning through the Blood Demon Castle warriors as if deciding who to kill first.
Even Jo Cheonsaeng, who was always full of arrogance, couldn’t utter a single word this time.
Moonwoo had thought that, if he ever faced Yong Hwarin again, he’d curse and fight to the end—but now that he was actually before him, all he wanted was to escape this place as quickly as possible.
“What is it that you want?”
It was Mo Baek who finally spoke up.
Yong Hwarin turned to Moonwoo and smiled.
Just that smile made Moonwoo’s skin crawl. His body tensed up instinctively, ready for death.
“If I just let you go like this, I’d feel a bit unsatisfied. I won’t kill everyone here. But one of you must die.”
At that, Jo Cheonsaeng shouted out,
“You think we’ll go down so easily just because we’re in this state?!”
Yong Hwarin nodded calmly at his words.
“You’re right. It would be difficult to take all of you on at once. But one thing’s certain—some of you will die here. I’ll give you a chance. One of you steps forward. Then, I’ll let the rest go.”
Moonwoo was quick to grab onto that lifeline.
“Is… is that true?”
His face brightened up, joy flickering in his eyes. If only one had to die, then that meant he might live.
One of the warriors from the Homa Cheondan stepped forward with resolve, but Yong Hwarin shook his head.
“No, not you. I meant one of those old men over there.”
The faint smiles that had appeared on Jo Cheonsaeng’s and Il Wi’s faces twisted instantly.
Then Mo Baek stepped forward, drawing his sword.
“I don’t want to fight someone who’s already half-dead.”
At that, the least injured among them—Il Wi and Jo Cheonsaeng—grimaced.
Moonwoo, terrified that Yong Hwarin might tell him to fight, hastily urged them on.
“Come now, show him the pride of the Blood Demon Castle. Aren’t you elders, after all?”
The two glared back at Moonwoo, their eyes filled with venom.
To them, he was nothing more than a coward pushing them toward death.
“Let’s end this with me alone.”
As Mo Baek raised his sword with trembling hands, Yong Hwarin flicked his finger.
Ping!
A large silver needle, shot from his Dragon Scale Finger Technique, struck one of Mo Baek’s acupoints.
Mo Baek fell with a dull thud.
Even though he was injured, Mo Baek wasn’t the kind of man to be struck down so easily by a hidden weapon.
But Yong Hwarin, a master at the level of the Fourth Jiazi, had already transcended the realm of human reflexes—his Dragon Scale Finger could not be dodged by mere human senses.
As they watched Mo Baek collapse without even sensing the sound or direction of the attack, Il Wi and Jo Cheonsaeng clenched their teeth.
Il Wi spoke first.
“I’ll take the Young Master and get him out of here.”
At that, Jo Cheonsaeng smirked bitterly.
“I’ve served the Blood Demon Castle my entire life… only to end up like this.”
Grinding his teeth, Jo Cheonsaeng stepped forward.
Yong Hwarin smiled.
“I won’t go down quietly! You bastard!”
Jo Cheonsaeng gathered all his internal energy into one last burst.
He planned to finish the fight in a single exchange—because the longer it went, the worse it would get for him.
“Come!”
At Yong Hwarin’s word, Jo Cheonsaeng charged.
Yong Hwarin stood still, his back straight, not even shifting his stance.
He looked almost like a man who had given up on fighting altogether.
That sight gave both Moonwoo and Il Wi a flicker of hope.
If Yong Hwarin had truly let his guard down, maybe—just maybe—they could win.
Jo Cheonsaeng swung his sword, unleashing dozens of transformations in rapid succession, but Yong Hwarin blocked every strike with the White Tiger Demon-Subduing Sword.
Tatatatang!
Sparks erupted in the air like roasting beans popping in a pan.
In that instant, Jo Cheonsaeng suddenly dropped his sword and thrust both palms toward Yong Hwarin’s chest.
It was his ultimate life-saving technique—Abandoning the Axe, Grasping Life (Sa Bu Ak Myeong).
He would feign a sword strike, then hurl the weapon away and attack with both palms charged with internal energy.
Though it looked reckless, this technique had saved Jo Cheonsaeng’s life countless times before—it was one of the deadliest among all killing techniques.
Many masters had died with their chests crushed by that very palm strike, unable to anticipate the sudden switch from sword to palm.
But this time, something was different.
The moment Jo Cheonsaeng’s palms touched Yong Hwarin’s chest, he felt his internal force sink as if it had struck water and dispersed into nothing.
“Wh-what trickery is this?”
Yong Hwarin had already formed a protective field of enhanced qi, Sangmo Gangqi, around his body, and he exhaled quietly in relief.
Had he not maintained that barrier, he would have taken the full brunt of the Abandoning the Axe, Grasping Life technique.
“Every move you don’t understand, you call sorcery?”
With that, Yong Hwarin swung the White Tiger Demon-Subduing Sword downward at Jo Cheonsaeng, who staggered back.
Jo Cheonsaeng had exhausted all his qi in that last attack—he didn’t even have the strength left to dodge.
Slash!
Without the slightest hesitation, Yong Hwarin cleaved Jo Cheonsaeng in two.
As he watched Jo Cheonsaeng’s body split apart, he spoke in a cold voice.
“If anyone dares attack me or my clan again, I will make them end up like this! Moonwoo!”
When Yong Hwarin suddenly called his name, Moonwoo answered reflexively,
“Y-yes?”
“If the Blood Demon Castle dares to move against my clan, I will make sure that even if you live, you’ll wish you were dead. Remember that.”
It could have been taken as a mere threat, but Moonwoo knew instinctively—this was not something he could defy.
A warrior consumed by fear loses the spirit of a warrior, becoming no different from an ordinary man.
‘Haa… The Young Master has grown up sheltered. There’s no way he can stand against Yong Hwarin. Even I tremble before that man’s spirit—how could the young heir possibly endure it?’
Il Wi sighed inwardly.
Yong Hwarin pressed one of Mo Baek’s acupoints, waking him from his unconscious state.
When Mo Baek saw Jo Cheonsaeng dead, his expression hardened.
After standing silently for a long moment, he looked at Yong Hwarin.
“Can we leave?”
“I gave my word. Go.”
Before his words even faded, Yong Hwarin disappeared like the wind.
As soon as he was gone, Moonwoo collapsed to the ground.
“Why… why didn’t he kill us?”
He still couldn’t understand. Why had Yong Hwarin only killed Jo Cheonsaeng and spared the rest?
Mo Baek and Il Wi glanced at the still-bewildered Moonwoo with faint pity.
It wasn’t only that their strength couldn’t compare—Moonwoo couldn’t even begin to fathom Yong Hwarin’s depth of mind.
They wanted to explain it to him, but saying so in front of their subordinates would be no different from humiliating him, so they kept silent.
Mo Biyoung, who had been hiding in the shadows, bowed her head as she watched Mo Baek’s back disappear.
It was her last farewell as kin. She then turned to face Yong Hwarin.
“Thank you… father.”
She knew that Yong Hwarin had killed only Jo Cheonsaeng for her sake.
If he had intended to kill Moonwoo as well, Mo Baek would have risked his life to stop him.
And if Moonwoo had been killed, Mo Baek could never return to the Blood Demon Castle. He would have either taken his own life or fought Yong Hwarin to the death.
“Let’s go now. Our esteemed guest must be growing bored.”
“Yes, father.”
Mo Biyoung replied in a brighter tone, and Yong Hwarin smiled faintly.
Returning to the inn, Yong Hwarin found Jo Wonmook waiting with a bored expression. Seeing him greet him cheerfully, Yong Hwarin thought,
‘He’s a master without equal under heaven, yet such a pure-hearted man. Or perhaps, after reaching that level, one becomes childlike again.’
Yong Hwarin found Jo Wonmook less like an austere grandmaster and more like a mischievous old grandfather.
“Did you take care of everything?”
“Yes.”
“Then, are you leaving right away?”
“No. Today, I’d like to serve you some good wine, Senior.”
“Is that so? What a pleasant surprise. It’s been far too long since a junior treated me to a drink.”
“Is there any particular kind of wine you prefer?”
At that, Jo Wonmook replied,
“I don’t drink cheap liquor.”
At those words, Yu Maelim interjected,
“What are you saying? Great Master, you love bamboo leaf wine.”
“Ahem! Lady Im A, we can’t embarrass Young Master Yong by serving him bamboo leaf wine, can we?”
“Indeed. As long as you’re a guest of our sect, Senior, we’ll treat you to the finest wine.”
“The Hundred Swords Sect only drank bamboo leaf wine because we were poor! My taste has always been for the finest.”
At Jo Wonmook’s teasing words, Yong Hwarin laughed heartily for the first time in a long while.
At dawn, Grand Elder Han Domeong stood frozen, holding a carrier pigeon’s message in his hand.
The content was so absurd that he couldn’t comprehend it.
‘Is this real?’
But regardless of his doubts, he couldn’t ignore the letter’s orders.
It bore the handwriting of First Master Il himself, complete with his personal seal—there was no room for doubt.
Han Domeong’s hesitation was understandable.
The contents of the letter were shocking.
[Yang Gwak has reported that Ok Girin attempted to violate Hong A-yul. If Yang Gwak said this out of jealousy, disregard this message.
But if it is true, then the Grand Elder shall kill Hong A-yul to prevent a scandal. Handle this discreetly so that no one learns of it.]
No wonder Han Domeong was shaken.
Everyone in the Heavenly Demon Sect knew how much First Master Il cherished Hong A-yul.
To receive an order to kill her simply because Ok Girin—First Master Il’s own son—tried to assault her was beyond comprehension.
‘Could it be… because he doesn’t want his son tied to her?’
Not knowing the full story, Han Domeong made his own wild assumptions.
Still, above all else, he was a man who followed First Master Il’s commands without question.
‘If it’s First Master Il’s order, I have no choice but to kill Hong A-yul.’
While he was considering how to kill her without arousing suspicion, Demonic Master Masa approached from behind.
“Did a carrier pigeon arrive? What’s the message?”
It wasn’t a message from Yang Gwak—it was from the Grand Elder’s private pigeon.
First Master Il hadn’t sent the order to Yang Gwak or Masa because of their sworn-brotherhood bond. He knew their loyalty to each other would stop them from harming Hong A-yul.
That was why he entrusted the command to Han Domeong, who would obey any order without question.
“It’s nothing.”
“If there’s an order, you should tell me. How else am I supposed to follow it?”
Sensing Han Domeong was hiding something, Masa pressed him.
“This doesn’t concern you. It’s my matter.”
As Han Domeong hurriedly left, Masa frowned, unable to shake off the uneasy feeling building inside him.
‘What is going on? I’ve never seen Han Domeong that unsettled before.’
He watched the elder leave, suspicion flickering in his eyes.
