HDCLSSRS Ch 117

Chapter 117 The Gambling Den (3)

“He must have meant to frame me.”

Seong Mujai gnashed his teeth in fury.

“But why… why would he do such a thing…?” Seong Muyeon murmured.

Mujai let out a derisive snort.

“Hah, isn’t it obvious? Think about it. To cultivate and condense a single gapja⁽¹⁾ of inner force takes sixty years—sixty!—even if you pour every day into meditation. Stealing another’s power is far easier, isn’t it?”

Mujai continued bitterly.

“And what a perfect target we were. All of us brothers, raised since birth on the rarest of elixirs, nurtured as golden sons! For one mad with hunger for strength, for the seat of the Cult Leader… what better feast for the eyes?”

Seong Muyeon instantly countered.

“That makes no sense! If taking another’s inner strength were so simple, then why do we never hear of masters freely passing their power down to disciples generation after generation? It’s impossible!”

To absorb another’s energy was, in martial lore, akin to forced blood transfusion. If constitution and inner art aligned even slightly, a fragment might be taken—but efficiency was atrocious. From ten parts given, to retain even one was a miracle.

Yes, the Demonic Cult did have techniques, infamously the Absorption Great Method (Heubsung Daebeop)⁽²⁾, said to drain qi. But so slight a disruption and the stolen forces would rebel, throwing the user into madness (juhwa ipma⁽³⁾). Such energies, seized by force, were unstable and dangerous beyond measure.

But even against Muyeon’s skeptical challenge, Mujai held firm.

“What if Seong Muguk discovered a way to overcome that incompatibility?”

He stared at the dark orb resting in his palm.

“And what if this neidan contains every scrap of Fourth Brother’s lifetime cultivation?”

…If that were true, then it would be little surprise that the Third Brother, Seong Muguk, surpassed the first and second brothers to claim the Sect Leader’s throne. Indeed, from the stories Muyeon knew from the original tale, it was Muguk who became Cult Leader. Had Muyeon not known of this beforehand, such a possibility would never even have crossed his mind.

But the thought of murdering a man to distill his inner power… it was unthinkable. Unbelievable. And even more—it was unbearable.

Perhaps Yakseon might give me the answer…

No matter how he puzzled, no solution came. Muyeon forced himself to set the matter aside for now, resolving to ask Yakseon later.

“…Could it really have been the first time Muguk resorted to such deeds? Anyway, Dojang—what ever became of that affair?”

Baek Ryeoil had sat silent throughout, brows furrowed as he listened. At Muyeon’s voice, he only moved his eyes toward him.

“What affair?”

“That incident in Hubei.”

Memories half-buried surfaced. Once, while fleeing Ryeoil, Muyeon had been captured by a branch hall of the Demonic Cult. By fortune he had met Namgung Cheonchu there, who—miraculously—had been instrumental in saving his life.

“I saw a strange altar there. Branch Chief Heo was abducting people, orchestrating something mysterious. Did Namgung Clan ever raise the matter afterward?”

After that incident, the Namgung family had overseen the aftermath and destruction of the hideout. Muyeon, still struggling to adjust within Mount Hua, had not dared probe further. But now, with Muguk’s name raised, the memory pricked at him once more.

“Not that I recall. If there had been anything unusual, the Namgung clan would never have let it pass unremarked.”

“I see…”

Another chill recollection surfaced.

He remembered clearly, Chief Heo had barred his way, demanding he stay, declaring that the Third Prince was coming.

If he had not been able to escape then… Muyeon might have joined Namgung Cheonchu as one more corpse, his body distilled into one of those dark orbs. Yet logic opposed the thought—Muyeon possessed hardly worth mentioning cultivation at the time. He would have been poor fodder.

And more: among those abducted by Branch Chief Heo had been not martial artists like Fourth Brother or Namgung’s heir, but the common masses—ordinary civilians in greatest number. They too were hardly suitable ingredients to conjure “neidan.”

The contradictions piled up. Muyeon gave up trying to reconcile them.

Instead, he stretched out a hand.

“For now, Brother, give me the orb.”

“…Were you even listening? This is Fourth Brother. I will never give it to another.”

Clutching it tightly to his chest, Mujai’s eyes flared. Muyeon, rising abruptly, flared as well.

“You gave your word!”

“Help me then, Seong Muyeon.” Mujai’s voice now carried unusual gravity. His gaze locked upon Muyeon, piercing.

“That day I fled in confusion. But now—I will carry this back to Headquarters. The First Brother must know. Must see with his own eyes that Seong Muguk plots a vile conspiracy.”

“….”

“I watched as life ebbed from Fourth Brother’s eyes. This neidan is him. I vowed over his corpse to bring him home. You would have me break it?”

Emotion surged uncontrollably; his eyes reddened, flecked with veins, glaring almost accusingly at Muyeon.

“As I aid you, so must you aid me. Is that not fair?”

“….”

Once more, he stroked the orb—then tucked it carefully into its pouch, slipped it back to his breast.

Neither Muyeon nor Ryeoil interfered. Both sensed—press him now, and Mujai might do something desperate.

“…For now, let’s return to Mount Hua. We will consult with Yakseon and seek her persuasion.”

Mujai, cornered by circumstance, nodded reluctantly. Whatever her answer, for Muyeon the mere delivery of the orb sufficed to fulfill his purpose.

What came after…

Muyeon shook his head. He would not think that far yet.

They had achieved what they came into this gambling-den for. It was time to escape before the tavern master returned.

“Where are you going? I brought the gold.”

Yet, no sooner had they stepped from Cheongdang than the tavern master appeared, jingling a pouch.

“Ah, that… We grew restless while waiting. Just thought to have a look about.” Muyeon forced a sigh into courtesy.

“Ah? Well the upper floors are finest, but even below has its charm. You know how to enjoy yourself, don’t you?”

With that, he led them further down into the hall.

Muyeon, lips hardly moving, whispered sideways to Ryeoil.

“How do we get out smoothly?”

“Just cut our way out.”

“…That’s a bit much.”

The tavern master suddenly stopped, directing them to a game of Even-Odd (홀짝, hol-jjak⁽⁴⁾).

“Ah, odd-or-even—the most basic of games. Who wishes to try? The contract has yet to be sealed, but take one tael for a taste.”

“M-me! Brother, let me!”

As though reborn, Mujai, who had slouched lifeless until now, darted forward gleefully. Seizing the coin from the tavern master, he elbowed into the gamblers’ circle.

Meanwhile, Muyeon’s eyes scanned restlessly about, nerves taut. His entire life now hinged upon bringing back his brother and the orb intact to Mount Hua.

Multiple doors encircled the hall, but which connected outside he could not divine. Entry had been by wagon; security was strict. He could not risk a wrong choice.

Then Ryeoil, also surveying the structure, froze abruptly. His eyes fixed unwaveringly toward some direction.

“…What is it?” Muyeon whispered. The tavern master and others were too distracted watching Mujai gamble to notice.

“Wait a moment. I’ll be right back.”

“What—where? Is something wrong?”

“Just a moment. Stay here.”

And in an instant, Ryeoil vanished into the throng.

Flustered, Muyeon cursed inwardly. I should have let him just cut them down after all.

The gambling hall roared—swears of defeat mingled with triumphal shouts. Yet somehow, the clamor made him uneasy.

We cannot delay like this…

He forced himself to swallow the anxiety.

Ryeoil pressed through, striding without pause, eyes locked razor-sharp upon one man.

At last, his hand clamped down firmly on the man’s shoulder. The fellow looked to be any other—an ordinary gambler immersed in dice—but Ryeoil knew his name.

“Je Cheondeuk.”

His eyes turned cold steel, his voice even colder.

“…What are you doing here? Were you following us?”

The man—Je Cheondeuk—rose slowly to his feet.

“Following? No, nothing of the kind. I simply came to gamble. A personal amusement of mine.”

Too calm, too smooth, for one ‘caught hiding.’ Yet not half an instant later the other gamblers burst into grumbles.

“Hey, you! If you’re not playing, get out! You’re bringin’ me bad luck! My loss is your fault, damn it!”

“…”

Footnotes:

1. Gapja (갑자 / 甲子) – A complete 60-year cycle; in cultivation lore, often used figuratively to denote a full span of acquired internal force.

2. Heubsung Daebeop (흡성대법, 吸星大法) – Literally “Great Star-Absorbing Technique,” a notorious demonic skill said to drain others’ qi. Highly unstable and dangerous.

3. Juhwa Ipma (주화입마, 走火入魔) – “Seized by inner demons”; deviation in cultivation where energies spin out of control, leading to insanity or death.

4. Hol-jjak (홀짝; Odd-Even) – A basic Korean gambling game using dice, similar to betting odd or even totals.