HDCLSSRS Ch 158

Chapter 158 Choice (8)

Whoever that man was, one thing was clear from his tone, attire, and demeanor — he did not belong to the Jegal Clan, nor to any righteous sect. In other words, a third party had intervened, and because of that, the plan to secretly escape had been utterly ruined.

As the man strode forward without hesitation, Seong Muyeon instinctively backed away until his shoulders pressed against the cold wall.

“Ha! So you are frightened!”

The man threw back his head and laughed, amused by Muyeon’s reaction. Then, lifting a hand broad as a cauldron lid, he gripped the iron bars. His hairy fingers tensed, and with a loud crack, the thick bars were torn out as though made of straw.

Crash!

He flung the bars aside carelessly. Muyeon’s breath caught at the sight of such monstrous strength.

“Blood Rain Ghost!”

At that moment, Jegal Un burst into the cell. With a flick of his wrist, his steel threads lashed out, forming arcs of cold, shimmering light that shot toward the intruder like blades.

Despite his massive build, the Blood Rain Ghost moved with startling agility, twisting aside to dodge the first strike. But the follow-up came too swiftly — one of the threads caught him full in the chest.

“Ggh—! Jegal Un!”

The Blood Rain Ghost staggered back several paces, clutching his throbbing chest and grinding his teeth.

“You’ll regret ever thinking you could trample the Jegal Clan,” Jegal Un said coldly, stepping forward, his eyes flicking briefly to Muyeon before fixing again on his opponent.

“Ha! Arrogant brat, hiding behind your family name. Crushing worms like you is easier than snapping a chicken’s neck!”

Jegal Un’s lips curved faintly. “Seems you’ve already forgotten that I spared your life once. A filthy stray like you ought to remember his place.”

“Oh? Then let’s see if your tongue can keep up with your blade!”

The Blood Rain Ghost unslung his crescent halberd, swinging it through the air. The weapon cleaved the air with a roar, a wave of pressure slicing outward.

Steel met steel as the two collided with explosive force. Yet neither could fight at full strength in the narrow space. The halberd struck the ceiling and walls, its arc restricted; Jegal Un’s steel threads, requiring distance to wield effectively, were hampered as well.

At last, the Blood Rain Ghost abandoned his weapon with a snarl and lunged barehanded. The two crashed through the shattered cell door and rolled into an adjacent empty chamber, breaking the bars in their wake.

Seeing his chance, Muyeon darted out. But the sight that met him outside made him freeze.

The manor had become chaos incarnate.

Guests and intruders alike were shouting, running, clashing blades. The Jegal warriors were struggling to contain the frenzy, fending off attackers who struck and retreated with mocking laughter.

A few, too impulsive, were cut down where they stood. But most of the raiders seemed less intent on killing and more on sowing confusion — darting in and out, toying with their opponents.

What in the world is happening…?

Through the chaos, Muyeon spotted Sanggeol, caught between indecision and fury as waves of attackers swarmed the prison grounds.

“Seong Muyeon!”

Before he could respond, searing pain tore through his scalp — something yanked him violently backward.

“Kh…!”

When he lifted his eyes, the Blood Rain Ghost was there, clutching his hair and hoisting him into the air.

“Tell me where the Spirit Seal is!” the man snarled, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Over his shoulder, Jegal Un lay sprawled and bloodied. The Ghost had won — though not without injury.

“So this is what the Demon Sect’s been hunting for,” he sneered. “It must be quite the treasure. Whatever it is, I’ll be the one to claim it.”

Muyeon’s jaw clenched. He’s after the Spirit Seal.

“Unfair? Don’t be foolish. In this world, power decides everything. The weak are guilty simply for owning what others desire.”

He raised his halberd, pressing its edge to Muyeon’s throat. The cold steel bit into skin — a thin line of blood ran down his neck.

“Speak, and I’ll grant you a swift death. Lie or stay silent… and you’ll beg for it instead. Choose.”

The man’s eyes gleamed with greed. Muyeon stared back, numb with disbelief. All this — this slaughter, this chaos — over one relic? Attacking the Jegal Clan’s estate, surrounded by masters from Mount Hua and Wudang — it was lunacy.

“Silence, then?” The Blood Rain Ghost grinned. “Very well. My comrades are buying us time. Let’s see how much pain you can withstand.”

A sharp sting flared at Muyeon’s neck as the blade pressed harder, warm blood trickling down.

What do I do?

There was no point in denying it — the Spirit Seal was literally hidden in his inner robe. One touch would expose it.

The plan to escape with Sanggeol’s help was completely shattered.

I should’ve taken it when I had the chance…

Better to consume it himself than let it fall into the hands of this brute.

“Well then, where shall I start—”

The Blood Rain Ghost’s taunt broke off abruptly as the ground began to tremble. A faint vibration grew into a violent quake.

And then — blood burst from his mouth.

Muyeon fell as the man’s grip slackened, collapsing to the ground. When he looked up, the Blood Rain Ghost was lying dead, eyes wide open in shock.

“Yeon-ah!”

That voice…

He turned — and froze.

“Brother…?”

Seong Muryong stood there, framed by smoke and fire, his sword dripping crimson.

“I came to save you,” Muryong said, smiling gently as he extended a hand.

Stunned beyond words, Muyeon let himself be pulled to his feet. His brother dragged him back into the shadows of the hallway.

“Wait, Brother! My belongings — they must be somewhere here. I can’t leave without them!”

“I’ve brought them,” came a voice from behind. Ilgwang appeared, carrying a small basket filled with Muyeon’s confiscated possessions.

At last, Muyeon’s dazed thoughts began to clear.

“You came… all the way from Xinjiang? For me?”

“Yes. But there’s no time. We must leave, now.”

Muyeon’s eyes wavered as he looked at him — and Paeng Wongeum’s dying words echoed in his mind.

“How do you think the cult leader found out about your escape plan? It was the Second Prince — Seong Muryong — who betrayed you.”

“Yeon-ah? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

For a moment, rage surged in his chest — but seeing Muryong’s worried expression, it melted away.

“…Nothing. It’s nothing,” Muyeon murmured, forcing a small smile.

Paeng Wongeum’s words had been nonsense — a desperate attempt to divide them.

He quickly gathered his things. “Ilgwang, is that everything?”

“I believe so. Nothing’s missing.”

“…Wait. The necklace. It’s gone.”

He dropped to his knees, searching frantically. “It should’ve been with the rest… where is it?”

“Yeon-ah, we have to go,” Muryong urged, peering anxiously toward the corridor.

“But—”

“Seventh Prince, please! The enemy could arrive any moment!” Ilgwang pressed.

Reluctantly, Muyeon forced his feet to move. But he couldn’t help glancing back again and again.

That necklace was his mother’s keepsake — perhaps the only link left to her family.

“Yeon-ah! Hurry!”

At Muryong’s shout, he tore his gaze away and followed.

“Demons! The Demon Sect is here! Arm yourselves!”

Outside, chaos reigned anew — but this time, it was the Demon Sect’s soldiers flooding the courtyard, their blades carving through anyone who stood in their way. Blood sprayed across the walls.

Muyeon’s heart clenched. Though they were fighting for him, the sight of so many dying because of his existence made him sick.

He hesitated — then his eyes widened in shock.

“B-Brother…”

“What is it?”

He pointed a trembling finger toward the black-clad warriors cutting down Jegal soldiers.

“Those men… they’re the Ghost-Slayer Unit — the Third Prince’s elite guard.”

“Yes,” Muryong said calmly. “Thanks to our third brother’s help, we broke through the city. Without him, we’d never have reached you.”

Ah…

Muyeon’s chest tightened painfully.

“Is something wrong?” Muryong asked.

Before Muyeon could answer, a furious shout rang out.

“Seong Muyeon! I knew you were with them!”

One of the Wudang disciples had seen him — and now, all eyes turned toward him.

The truth was undeniable. The Ghost-Slayer Unit — Seong Muguk’s men — had been the ones guarding the perimeter while Muryong “rescued” him.

“What are you doing, Yeon-ah? Come on!”

Muryong grabbed his arm again, urging him to move.

But Muyeon jerked free.

“Brother — you’ve been deceived by Seong Muguk!”

“What?”

“The one who killed our fourth brother wasn’t the Sixth — it was the Third! It was Seong Muguk!”

“…What?”

Muryong’s pupils constricted.

“I met the Sixth Prince here. He saw it with his own eyes — the Third killing the Fourth — and fled for his life!”

“…”

“Say something! Do you not believe me?” Muyeon cried, shaking his brother’s shoulders.

But Muryong didn’t answer. His gaze wasn’t on him at all. It was fixed somewhere behind him.

Then —

“You’re right, youngest brother,” came a low, cold voice from behind.

Muyeon froze. His blood ran cold.

He turned — slowly, painfully — and there stood Seong Muguk, his eyes like shards of ice.

“I killed the Fourth.”