HDCLSSRS Ch 122

Chapter 122 The Spirit Core (3)

Before Baek Ryeoil plunged into the pit, the last sight he caught beyond the collapsing earthen floor was of Myeong-Gwi, slipping back toward the warehouse, and Je Cheondeuk—stumbling to his feet despite his injuries, seizing his sword as though to redeem his earlier mistake—pursuing the scarred captain.

“Young Master Seong!”

Kang Ung, who had only just awakened from unconsciousness, spotted them trying to escape the gambling den and came sprinting. At his pursuit, Bang Gyeom and Seong Mujai hastened their pace as well.

Before long, orange light flickered before them in the night, swelling against the dark. The warehouse-turned-gambling hall stood far outside the residential quarter, nestled against lonely woods—but now, from the main road, multiple torches advanced.

Soon it was clear—the torches were dozens of warriors, converging directly toward the den. At their head flew a young man whose movement discipline was so fast he seemed to glide above the earth.

Muyeon, catching the hateful gleam in his eyes, yanked hard at Bang Gyeom’s hair.

“Turn back! We have to turn back, now!”

“Argh—! Seventh Prince!”

Pale garments flaring in the moonlight, his bearing sharp and noble—it could only be an orthodox master of the righteous sects.

Too late—the moonlight fully revealed them.

“Demonic Cult!”

Inevitably, one of the warriors leveled a finger at them and shouted.

“Eek!”

Behind, fear wrung Mujai’s lungs dry. He wheeled and bolted into the night like a frightened deer, heedless of vengeance or loyalty.

Bang Gyeom faltered, but as his eyes tracked the pointed finger, he realized with relief—it was not aimed at them. It was pointing up.

The roof shook, marred by devilish black qi. Combat flared—Myeong-Gwi and Je Cheondeuk, locked in strife.

“In the name of the House of Zhuge⁽¹⁾, exterminate the Demonic Cult!”

The leading young master’s voice rang harsh and proud.

“Yes, Young Lord!” his men roared.

The Zhuge Clan…! And that man at their head—none other than the heir, the Young Lord himself.

Meanwhile, Bang Gyeom had been tackled by Kang Ung, who had caught up through sheer desperation. Their impact jolted clear to Muyeon, unbalancing them all. Muyeon felt himself lifted off the ground and hurled into empty air.

…Eh?

He braced for bone-breaking impact, aware he was too late to strike a proper falling technique.

But the blow never landed.

Opening his eyes, he found his fall arrested by a pair of slate-gray irises, cold and sharp as winter ice. Even in this frigid night, the aura around this man felt like walking into a frozen wasteland. Skin like pale snow, white robes gleaming—he seemed like a ghost conjured from the mountainside.

Warriors blurred past on both sides.

“Kyaaah!”

A pitiful scream sounded behind them as Mujai collapsed unconscious.

“Don’t you dare touch the Sixth Prince, you filthy—urk!” Bang Gyeom fell beside him, battered into unconsciousness as well.

Muyeon stared in disbelief. Indeed, as they say, a thief feels the guilt of his own footprints—his brother and retainer undone in an instant.

The Zhuge heir fixed him under that icy gaze.

“…”

Muyeon held his stare in silence.

“…”

The air between them congealed thick.

Muyeon rolled away, attempting to slip free. But he froze at the glacial chill already pressed to his throat. A wire-thin steel cord, biting cold, curved beneath his jaw.

“Where are you going?”

The Young Lord Zhuge’s voice dripped arrogance. “We received word of the Demonic Cult’s movement. You are the Seventh Prince, Seong Muyeon, are you not? You will explain everything to me.”

Above, a crash erupted—Je Cheondeuk toppled from the roof, coughing blood midair. Ryeoil dropped from above to catch him before the ground broke him. But even so, his wounds were grave, terrible to behold.

Behind them, a portion of the Ghostslayers melted into the shadows, pursued by Zhuge warriors.

“Wudang will also wish for answers,” the heir remarked coldly.

Muyeon sighed inwardly. This was exactly the situation I most dreaded.

Je Cheondeuk, grievously injured, was carried off on a stretcher.

“Come with me.” Zhuge Yun⁽²⁾, the heir, dispatched instructions to his retainers and led the others onward.

“What were those men?” Ryeoil asked tersely, disdaining wasted words. He meant the ambushers.

Muyeon explained—they were the Ghostslayers, the personal strike-force of Seong Muguk, the Third Prince.

Ryeoil passed a hand wearily through his hair, sighing thunder.

“You should have told me sooner.”

“…Mujai swore he had shaken them at Cheonghae. I never thought they would follow this far…” Muyeon’s voice crawled like an insect. The weight of guilt pressed mercilessly.

He glanced at the unconscious forms of his brother and Bang Gyeom, dragged off like prisoners.

“What will happen to them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Surely we can spirit them away now—return to Mount Hua?” Muyeon asked, almost pleading.

Ryeoil shook his head. “Not possible, without starting a war with Zhuge. Even if permitted, I’d forbid it now. The situation has changed. Muguk’s men will return. Better they remain under Zhuge’s guard than exposed on the open road.”

“…Yes.”

Muyeon had expected as much. But he had to ask once, before strangling that thin thread of hope.

The Zhuge residence—a branch estate—was nearby; Zhuge Yun quartered them in a hall.

“Rest here for the time being.”

“Lord Zhuge,” Ryeoil began, but Zhuge Yun cut him.

“I bear no suspicion of Mount Hua. But with wounded among you, I cannot simply dismiss you. I have summoned Wudang. When they arrive, we will speak.”

At that moment noise stirred outside.

“They are here.” Zhuge Yun stepped away.

Muyeon moved to follow, but Ryeoil stopped him with a hand.

“You stay put.”

“But—”

“Listen. If you go, you’ll regret it.”

Ryeoil shoved him gently but firmly back into the chamber before departing with Zhuge Yun.

“…”

“Master… are you all right?” Kang Ung looked fretful.

“…That should be my question.”

Only then did Muyeon notice him properly. Cuts and dried blood covered the boy, garments tattered. Yet he gave a sheepish laugh.

“Heh… I honestly thought I’d die back there.”

Zhuge servants brought fresh clothes, a tub of hot water, and light nourishment. Once fed and bathed, the boy could no longer resist sleep—despite stubborn protest, he collapsed into dreams before his head touched the mat.

Muyeon stayed awake, brow aching with fatigue, but sleepless. He slammed the round table with a fist.

Bang!

They had retrieved the orb. They had recovered Mujai. Return to Mount Hua—that was all.

And yet—here was Zhuge, here was Wudang. And against them, Muguk and his Ghostslayers.

The path tangled beyond recognition.

He imagined Ryeoil, even now, locked in bitter words with Wudang and Zhuge. The thought would not let him sit still.

He left his room. Guards ringed the courtyard, but did not hinder him. What could he do? In this estate crawling with Zhuge retainers, there was no escape for a lone man.

It was past midnight, but lights burned still throughout the manor grounds. His breath puffed white into the bitter air.

Then—a roar ripped from the dungeons.

“You bastards! You sons of dogs!”

Mujai’s voice.

Muyeon’s steps quickened. He arrived just as Zhuge Yun emerged from the prison block, the orb brazen in his hand.

“Oh, come to see your brother, have you?” His smirk mocked openly; he didn’t even bother to conceal the treasure, flaunting it.

“When did demonic scum earn the right to stroll Zhuge halls at will? Guards. Remove him at once.”

At his side, a short, sharp-eyed, ratty-bearded man sneered, his voice oily.

“Let him in,” Zhuge Yun replied lightly.

“But what if they conspire together, Young Lord?”

The heir scoffed. “Conspire? Mujai’s dantian is shattered. As for this one…” He let his gaze linger on Muyeon, voice trailing, heavy with implication. He knew.

Footnotes:

1. Zhuge Clan (제갈세가, Zhuge Sega) – One of the great aristocratic houses. Known for strategy and martial prowess, archrivals to any demonic faction.

2. Zhuge Yun (제갈운) – The heir apparent (소가주 Soga-ju) of the Zhuge Clan estate in Hubei, “Young Lord Zhuge” here.