HDCLSSRS Ch 116

Chapter 116 The Gambling Den (2)

The tavern master did not stop there—he even went so far as to invite them into a luxurious private suite, serving tea and wine.

“Please wait here for a short while. I have a matter to attend to, and once it is handled, we shall set off.”

He maintained calm composure until he reached his own quarters; but once safe behind closed doors, his rage burst forth.

“Damn it all!”

His clenched fist slammed against the table.

That brat… just who is he? For his retainers to be that strong…

He had thought numbers alone could overwhelm them. He never expected the guards Seong Muyeon had brought would surpass all expectation—and it had cost him dearly.

Where is he? Why hasn’t he come?

Pacing the room in agitation, the tavern master recalled the moment he had heard Mujai had returned. Immediately, he had loosed the messenger hawk—a trained bird the black-garbed man had left for contact. Yet still, the man in black had not arrived.

Until he comes, I must delay them…

They were beyond his strength; what little chance he had lay in keeping them here until darker forces intervened.

Having resolved this, he calmed his breathing, then returned to the suite, leading Muyeon’s group to a courtyard behind the tavern.

Awaiting was a plain wagon with no windows.

“The gambling hall is a warehouse repurposed. From the outside, it appears only as a storage facility for goods. Supplies moving in and out daily hide its true face.”

He climbed aboard first, and the others followed without suspicion.

The carriage rolled slowly, away from the bustle of homes, toward a secluded outskirt. Soon, a massive warehouse rose before them, its sturdy walls surrounded by high stockades. Guards patrolled frequently, but the place gave no hint of its secret.

“This way.”

After traversing a dim corridor and passing through several iron gates, the true gambling hall at last revealed itself.

“W-wow…”

Those who had never laid eyes upon it before looked around wide-eyed, momentarily forgetting themselves.

A vast hollowed space opened at its center, teeming with countless people. The stale air, the roar of voices, the reek of liquor—together created the illusion of entering another world entirely.

“Impressive, eh?”

The tavern master’s lips curved in pride. This was his dream made manifest, the product of meticulous labor. Yet his face soon betrayed unease. For today this place would also become a stage where blood might freely spill.

“There is a separate chamber for honored guests. Please—this way.”

And so they were led on. Yet even as their feet followed, their eyes remained glued upon the spectacle below.

The chamber, Cheongdang (靑堂), was the refined hall where wealthy patrons wagered. Several recognized the master and greeted him with courtesy.

Mujai, with practiced ease, ducked into a private alcove behind heavy curtains—a space he had claimed as his own in visits past, as though marked with his name.

Keeping them at the tables all night long—this much is simple enough.

He had decorated this chamber lavishly, making it difficult for newcomers to look away from its elaborate games and diversions.

“By the way, Brother—why don’t you lend me some gold taels?”

Mujai spoke without shame.

“What?! You mean you came without even seed money? You—you hopeless fool! No! You’ve borrowed already near to your limit—unless you stake your very neck, not one more coin!”

“Ah, but who said I would borrow in my own name?”

And he thrust Muyeon forward by the shoulder.

“In my younger brother’s.”

“…What?! Brother!”

“Little sibling, do you not trust your elder? I’ll multiply it many times over and return it double.”

“…”

Muyeon’s face turned pale, but he stopped short of outlawing it outright.

The tavern master chuckled inwardly.

So even so-called demon princes are no different.

Here, countless gamblers began with their own funds, only to drag family into ruin once they exhausted all means. This was how tragedy always began.

“Well. If it’s in the Seventh Prince’s name, then… perhaps. But what say you? The contract must bear your own will.”

“…I will borrow.”

“How much?”

“As much as possible! Brother, please!”

“Ha…”

Having resigned himself, Muyeon could only laugh hollowly.

“Very well then. I’ll prepare the contract. Until then, enjoy the sights.”

Once he left, the tavern master immediately summoned his captain of guards.

“Seal every passage.”

“…Sir?”

“Not even a rat is to escape this hall. Quickly!”

“O-Of course, Master!”

The captain dashed off. Before long, faint noises of iron bolts echoed through the hallways—the gambling hall was sealed.

The master swept one final look over his dream.

But dreams, however grand, were never dearer than one’s own life.

He cast away his last regrets and hurried to prepare the papers that would bind the Seventh Prince in shackles of debt.

Once he had gone, Mujai made certain the man was far away, then drew the curtains long.

“Brother, that item—” Muyeon began.

“Shhh.”

The curtain, though thick, could not muffle voices, and though the outside was noisy—and Bang Gyeom and Kang Ung stood watch—caution was no mistake.

With practiced care, Mujai climbed a chair, prodded at the ceiling beams until one plank shifted, revealing a black hollow within.

His hand groped about inside. When he descended, a small, dark pouch gleamed in his palm.

“…Is that it?”

It was no larger than half a man’s palm. As Muyeon reached out, Mujai slapped his hand aside and instead carefully unwrapped the many layers binding the object.

“….”

Muyeon swallowed a lump in his throat. Whatever was most precious was often smallest, and heaviest. The beat of his heart quickened.

At last the object emerged—

“A pill?”

A small dark pellet—round, gleaming—familiar in shape. Like the Jeongshimdan once given by Namgung Cheonchu, or the Mahon Shindan offered by Seong Muryong—this too was a hwandan⁽¹⁾.

And yet, its strange color and fragrance set it apart. Deep as black pearls, it shimmered unnaturally with a lustrous sheen.

Mujai exhaled long.

“It is Fourth Brother.”

“…What do you mean?”

He brushed the sphere carefully with a thumb, voice low and hoarse.

“It was drawn… from Fourth Brother’s very body.”

“…Explain thoroughly. How could a human body birth a neidan⁽²⁾?”

Neidan were crystallizations of inner energy, normally only found within mystical beasts, refined after long spans of life. Yet the Fourth Prince was human—far too young for such a thing.

Mujai’s gaze, heavy, bored into Muyeon’s.

“Still suspicious, brother? You think it was I who killed him.”

“…I will judge only after hearing the tale.”

Unable to look directly at the eerie gem, Muyeon turned his eyes aside.

“You know how close he and I were. That day, Fourth Brother and I went together to see Father. Father will not live forever, and when he dies, a new leader of the Demonic Cult will rise. Both of us knew—with certainty—that neither he nor I would be chosen. That worry drove us to share drink that night.”

“….”

“We talked late. Eventually I rose to leave his chambers. Yet… something felt wrong. The air was too quiet. Doesn’t that strike you as strange? For a great sect with thousands residing there to fall into such utter silence?”

Muyeon nodded grimly. The Cult’s stronghold was never without eyes and ears.

“With unease, I patted my waist and—my sword was missing. Left behind in his room. I returned immediately. And there… found him, fallen.”

Mujai’s breath grew uneasy, haunted by the memory.

“He still breathed—but barely. His chest was torn, blood pouring in torrents. His mind drifted in and out like a dream. In that instant I knew not who, or how! Only that my brother would die.”

“….”

“I then realized—the pools of blood on the floor were not random. They formed part of some strange pattern. And then… his body… something began to leave it. At first faintly, unseen… only felt. Gathering, condensing… until this very neidan emerged.”

The black sphere shimmered in his palm.

“Even then, he did not yet die. Though his eyes dimmed, he beckoned me close, whispering a single word—‘Run’. And then… he returned.”

“…Returned? Who?”

Mujai’s features twisted, bitter with fury.

“The Third Brother. Hah! That cruel beast has no right to that title. Seong Muguk!”

—The Third Young Master, Seong Muguk!

Mujai’s voice unconsciously rose in anger, then he forcefully lowered it.

“He held a blood-soaked blade. He looked straight at me—and laughed. Do you know what damnable thing he said?”

“…What did he say?”

“‘You should never have come back.’”

According to Mujai’s account, immediately afterward the Third’s subordinates attacked. Even in the chaos, Mujai escaped with the neidan clenched in hand, but everywhere saw Fourth’s attendants strewn lifeless in brutal slaughter.

Rejoining his own followers in haste, he fled with only moments to spare.

It was clear, then—Third had intended Fourth as his only target. With Mujai’s departure, he slaughtered all within the chambers. Unluckily, Mujai had witnessed enough to know the truth.

“…. …”

Once again—the Third Prince.

Footnotes:

1. Hwandan (환단 / 丸丹) – Alchemical pellets or pills, often rare medicines or arcane treasures of great power. 
2. Neidan (내단 / 內丹) – “Internal alchemical core.” In wuxia lore, crystallization of one’s inner energy, found in long-lived beasts or cultivators; here anomalously generated in a human.