HDCLSSRS Ch 118

Chapter 118 The Gambling Den (4)

 

Baek Ryeoil and Je Cheondeuk finally moved to a corner. As long as they did not disturb the gambling, in a place packed with people like this they could act freely without drawing notice.

“Why did you follow us?”

Ryeoil asked coldly, making no attempt to hide his hostility. Je Cheondeuk’s lips curled faintly.

“I understand you’re angry, but at least maintain courtesy. As a disciple of Wudang⁽¹⁾, I had no choice. How could I allow a prince of the Demonic Cult to walk brazenly about without observing what scheme he might be weaving?”

He sounded utterly self-righteous.

“Wouldn’t it have been more proper to seek cooperation first, rather than tail us in secret? Unless of course…”

“You would never have agreed anyway,” Je Cheondeuk smoothly finished the words left unsaid.

Ryeoil sneered, staring him down. He knows me well.

With a side glance, Ryeoil swept the surroundings. His smile deepened.

“Ah, I see. You wanted to claim the credit all for yourself.”

“Wh-what nonsense is this?”

“Don’t play the fool. You act as if watching a prince of the Demonic Cult were business entrusted to Wudang—but could such a matter ever be handled with merely one man? Would they truly send you alone?”

Je Cheondeuk’s face stiffened.

If he had comrades hidden nearby, Ryeoil’s keen senses of qi would never have failed to catch it by now. The fact he felt nothing meant Je Cheondeuk was alone.

“Your plan was simple—if Seong Muyeon caused trouble, you’d seize the glory for stopping him. If not, you’d at least dig up some dirt to carry back. Isn’t that so?”

“…”

“You weren’t invited by the tavern master either, were you? So—how did you sneak inside? You didn’t leave any trace behind, did you?”

“…I did knock one guard unconscious, but handled it cleanly. It shouldn’t be discovered quickly.”

“That’s hardly something you can guarantee.”

Ryeoil’s smirk cut short, his face icing over.

“Cause no disturbance. Leave now. At dawn, come find me at Biyeonmun⁽²⁾, and I’ll explain to your satisfaction.”

(Of course, by then Ryeoil and the others would already be gone, hurrying on Mount Hua’s road. He had no intention of letting the Wudang man track them further.)

But Je Cheondeuk, despite the cold warning, did not back down. Instead, a sly grin twisted his lips.

“…Bold words, from the man who travels not with one, but two princes of the Demonic Cult.”

“….”

So he noticed, even that.

Ryeoil’s gaze sank to frozen steel. How long had they been shadowed? The failing was his alone—that a tail had latched on without him realizing.

If Je Cheondeuk chose to agitate, things could escalate dangerously. Many righteous sects had always considered the Cult their sworn foe, and ever since Ma Jincheon’s humiliating ordeal, suspicion had grown sharper still.

Muyeon was shielded by Mount Hua’s aegis… but Mujai? Should the other sects learn of his survival, they’d conjure any excuse or “righteous cause” to seize him.

And this was Hubei—territory of both Wudang and the Zhuge clan. Their reach was vast, unlike Mount Hua’s meager handful of affiliated households.

…Should I silence him?

For a fleeting moment, Ryeoil considered it.

He should not kill an innocent without cause. But to knock him out and bury him unseen, so that when he awoke they were long gone—that might be permissible.

As though reading his mind, Je Cheondeuk’s body drew taut with tension. The air between them shifted subtly, fraught with the taste of imminent clash.

It needed but an instant for the decision. Ryeoil stepped forward, and in that moment—both lifted their eyes upward.

This gambling den, built from a converted warehouse, had a ceiling unusually high. From above, several presences were rushing quickly—not even bothering to conceal themselves.

“…Why won’t the door open?”

Simultaneously, a gambler near the iron gate rattled it. The door remained fast.

The realization hit—the doors had been locked—just as the roof crashed down.

KWAANG!

“Uwaaaagh!”

Debris thundered from above, screams erupting around them. In the blink of an eye, chaos spread.

And it was not only debris that fell.

A dozen men in black hurled themselves down, bodies wreathed in malignant qi.

Ryeoil and Je Cheondeuk locked eyes. Together—without need of words—steel sang from their scabbards.

“AAAGH!”

“The door won’t open!”

As the ceiling shattered and black-clad intruders poured in, Seong Muyeon jerked awake from shock.

Mujai, still blank with confusion, might as well have been a lost child. Muyeon seized him by the scruff and shoved him beneath a low table, diving under himself.

“They’re here… they’ve come! But how—how could they chase me here? I shook them in Cheonghae, I did! I did!”

Mujai, clutching his head, muttered madly in panic.

Muyeon carefully peered out through the forest of frenzied legs. All around, black-garbed intruders moved among the crowd, eyes the only part of them visible beyond their hoods, each body cloaked in sinister energy.

“…Ghostslayers.”

“…What?”

“Seong Muguk’s personal strike-force⁽³⁾! Look there—see him? Their captain.”

Mujai’s trembling finger pointed. And sure enough—a figure unmistakably leader among them. Upon his back crossed twin sabers; across the brow, between both eyes, ran a terrible long scar.

Muyeon drew back hastily. To look too long risked being noticed.

“They call him Myeong-Gwi (the Bright Ghost). He is the one who’s hunted us all this way. I lost him back in Cheonghae—how has he found us here?!”

“Well, even Mount Hua managed to track you down. Why not the Ghostslayers?”

“Damn! Damn it! We must flee!”

“Wait! If you run now you’ll die!”

As Mujai scrambled crazily, Muyeon yanked him back down. For now, luckily, the Ghostslayers had not yet noticed them.

Kang Ung, noticing Muyeon slip beneath the table, stood guard nearby like a sentinel. Bang Gyeom was nowhere in sight—likely hidden elsewhere to avoid drawing attention.

“Will they recognize Bang Gyeom?”

“I… I don’t know… I don’t know anything…”

Mujai was in no state. His teeth chattered as his arms clenched protectively over his chest.

“They… they slaughtered all my retainers. Damn them!” Mujai muttered near tears.

“If what you said is true, they’ll chase us until they recover the orb.”

Screams tore the air, the mob crushed in desperation by sealed doors.

“Brother—guard it. Whatever happens, do not let them take—”

Before Muyeon could finish, a powerful grip dragged him violently back.

CRASH!

He was flung from beneath the table, hurled against a wall. Breath blasted from his lungs, the world flashing white.

Struggling for a gasp, shaking his head, his vision cleared slowly.

The one who had seized and hurled him was the tavern master. Mujai lay unconscious at his feet, chest ripped open where he had been searched.

Muyeon’s heart plummeted.

“…So this is the precious object, eh?”

From his robe the tavern master dangled the small pouch, no mistaking it. What else could Mujai have guarded so dearly? He shoved it quickly into his own garments.

“Here! The Sixth Prince is here!”

His shout turned the Ghostslayers’ fierce eyes directly upon Muyeon and Mujai.

You vile traitor!

A chilling thought struck Muyeon—Had the tavern master been in league with them from the start?

With escorts shielding him, the tavern master turned and bolted.

The Ghostslayers advanced. Terrified gamblers surged back like waves, but the corridors were too narrow. Some hapless stragglers were shoved straight into the killers’ path.

“Obstructions.”

Their sabers rose and fell mercilessly.

“Nooo!”

Kang Ung’s cry ripped the air. He charged—but he was far too distant. Muyeon braced for blood. Too late…

CLANG!

Light speared in, casting back black qi. The sabers sheared harmlessly into the floorboards instead.

Baek Ryeoil stood there, back turned to Muyeon and Ung, blade raised. The light was his sword-qi.

“Master Baek!”

“Dojang!”

Ung and Muyeon cried together.

“This way! There is an exit!”

A voice boomed with internal power, rattling the hall.

It was Je Cheondeuk—near a wall he had burst open to make a crude exit, ushering people to safety.

The Ghostslayers cared only for Mujai. Civilians fleeing drew them no glance.

“Are you wounded?”

Ryeoil asked calmly, glancing back.

Muyeon, seeing him so unfaltering, felt a knot swell in his chest—part laughter, part weeping.

Footnotes:

1. Wudang Sect (무당파) – One of the great orthodox Daoist sword sects; historically rivals/distrustful of Mount Hua and sworn enemies of the Demonic Cult.
2. Biyeonmun (비연문 / 飛燕門) – A small branch household affiliated with Mount Hua; safehouse of sorts.
3. Ghostslayers (귀살대, Gwisaldae) – A special strike-force serving directly under Seong Muguk (Third Young Master), infamous for brutality. Their captain Myeong-Gwi (“Bright Ghost”) bears a distinctive scar.