HDCLSSRS Ch 150

Chapter 150 Awakening(6)

“Who was it? Who wronged you to make you this way?”

Paeng Wongeum’s smile cracked.

The blood and flesh of a Huajeong Valley were said to heighten internal energy more than any heavenly elixir. If Paeng Wongeum was one, then surely his kin were as well.

“I heard your father, the Head of the Paeng Clan, still lives. And your second brother…”

“Do-hwan, you mean? That boy knows nothing. Born into a fine family with talent to spare… The sort of noble young master you describe — blessed with everything and lacking nothing — that’s him.”

“Then who…?”

“My mother.”

Wongeum’s voice trembled — sharp, restrained fury slicing through each syllable.

“My mother left home one day and never came back. My father searched for her like a madman, but not even a single strand of hair was ever found. Ha… Do you know why?”

Young Master Muyeon exhaled slowly, his stomach tightening.

“In the end, my father gave up. He remarried, and through that woman, Do-hwan was born. It wasn’t until I was grown that I began searching for my mother myself. And then—” Wongeum’s lips curved upward into a bitter smile, “—I found out why she never returned.”

“…”

He looked straight at Muyeon.

The truth struck like thunder — so heavy that Muyeon could not speak. His gaze darted to Jegal Un, who stood rigid, clutching his iron wire, his eyes blank and unseeing as though the world around him no longer existed.

“Then what about Young Master Jegal? What crime did he commit to deserve being blamed for something he didn’t do? Was the Jegal Clan involved?”

At Muyeon’s sharp demand, Wongeum laughed softly — a sound devoid of warmth.

“I investigated, of course — who, how many, where it happened. But the deeper I dug, the clearer it became that it didn’t matter. They all hid it. They covered for one another, whispered, concealed, lied. People like that — given the same chance — would do the same thing again.”

“That’s too far-fetched! Young Master Jegal didn’t do anything, yet you made him a murderer to suit your revenge!”

“Did I?” Wongeum smiled faintly. “I wonder who they’ll blame when they return and find the Spirit Seal missing.”

Muyeon stiffened.

“The expedition that left at dawn will find nothing. And when they realize the alliance’s secret plans have been leaked… Tell me, when they come back empty-handed and the Spirit Seal has vanished, who do you think they’ll suspect first?”

“I—I…”

“They’ll remember that this elixir contains pure internal energy — a heaven-sent medicine. And they’ll remember the Seventh Young Master of the Demonic Sect — who bowed his head to the enemy to survive. If such a man could save himself by consuming this, what do you think he’d do?”

“…”

A flicker of sympathy crossed Wongeum’s face.

“Even if I didn’t lift a finger, that’s how it would unfold. Those self-proclaimed righteous hypocrites need someone to bear the blame whenever things go wrong. That’s why I’m doing this, Young Master Muyeon — to show you the truth.”

Muyeon opened his mouth to retort but no words came. His throat closed as though the air itself had turned solid.

He had been accused of crimes he never committed — over and over. And though he tried to deny it, some part of him knew Wongeum’s words weren’t wrong.

“Do you know how much the Third Young Lord cares for you?” Wongeum’s tone softened, almost affectionate. “He’s willing to suffer great losses just to awaken you. He’s the only one who can save you. Trusting the Second Young Lord — wasn’t that what ruined you?”

“Why… why are you bringing up my second brother?”

Muyeon’s eyes narrowed with growing suspicion. Wongeum only sighed, shaking his head as if pitying him.

“How ignorant. Do you truly know nothing?”

“Stop playing games and answer me! What are you trying to say about him?”

“The night of the banquet,” Wongeum said calmly, “I was the one who told the Pavilion Master — through Young Master Jegal — what happened that day. And now, I’m going to tell you something you don’t yet know.”

Muyeon’s palms began to sweat. A dark premonition prickled at his skin.

“How do you think the Sect Leader learned about your and your mother’s escape plan?”

“…What are you saying?”

His heartbeat thundered painfully in his chest. He wanted to know, yet dreaded every next word.

“No matter how powerful the Sect Leader was, he couldn’t know every secret in that vast palace. And you — the Seventh Concubine’s son — were hardly in his sight. Oh, I’m sure your mother planned carefully, but… someone leaked her plan. Someone close. Someone who entered her chambers freely. Someone who didn’t want you to leave him behind. Tell me, who fits that description?”

Muyeon’s body went rigid, as if struck by lightning.

“It was your Second Brother, Seong Muryong, who betrayed you.”

Muyeon shook his head violently. No. Muryong had helped them escape — he had saved them.

“How naïve,” Wongeum murmured. “Everyone in the Sect knows Muryong saw the Seventh Concubine as his mother. A lonely young man nearing adulthood, afraid of being left behind, afraid of losing the only warmth he’d ever known… Of course he didn’t mean harm. He simply didn’t want you to go.”

“No… That’s not true…”

“He couldn’t have imagined it would lead to her death. Or that your secret would be exposed. But because of that selfish fear, he destroyed both your lives.”

Muyeon’s breath hitched. His chest tightened until he could hardly breathe. He gasped like a fish pulled from water, unable to draw air.

It couldn’t be true. Not him.

Paeng Wongeum’s betrayal had already carved deep enough — to add Seong Muryong to that wound was unbearable. His mind screamed in refusal.

His reddened eyes snapped up, glaring at Wongeum.

“I don’t believe you. If you think lies like that will shake me, you’re mistaken. You think I’d trust you — a man I’ve barely known — over my own brother?”

“As you wish,” Wongeum replied mildly. “You can confirm it with your brother yourself.”

He shrugged off the matter as if it were trivial, then smoothly changed tone.

“But you must face reality. The longer you resist, the more people will die. The Wudang, the Jegal Clan — so many have already fallen. Wasn’t Dojang Je Cheondeuk the greatest loss?”

“What are you talking about? He… he died because his wounds worsened—”

Wongeum’s faint, cold smile stopped Muyeon in his tracks. His heart dropped.

“No… Don’t tell me…”

“Oh yes. It turns out he recognized me that night at the gambling house. When I heard he’d regained consciousness, I paid him a visit. Even half-conscious, he remembered my face — though he wasn’t entirely sure. Still, I couldn’t risk it.”

“That’s impossible. There were no signs of violence…”

Then it struck him — like a shard of ice driven through the skull.

If Paeng Wongeum was truly Huajeong Valley, he could kill without leaving a mark. By draining a person’s life force and inner energy directly from their dantian, he could leave no trace at all.

“I didn’t want to,” Wongeum said softly, his expression full of false sorrow. “But I couldn’t let the plan fail because of him.”

His voice was gentle, almost regretful — and that gentleness ignited something furious within Muyeon. His hands clenched into fists. He could hardly recognize this man — the one he’d once admired.

Wongeum suddenly turned his head, eyes narrowing toward the far wall.

“Oh dear… Someone’s coming. Was that your doing, Young Master Muyeon?”

“I sent for help earlier,” Muyeon said through gritted teeth. “Too bad for you, Paeng Gongja. Your grand plan ends here. When they arrive, the whole world will know what you’ve done.”

He forced a sharp, crooked smile, refusing to yield an inch.

“Your mask is about to crumble.”

If he could just stall for a little longer… Bang Gyeom’s men would arrive soon.

But Wongeum moved — fast as lightning. He grabbed Muyeon’s arm before he could react, grip like iron.

Muyeon struggled, pulling his inner energy to break free — but in that moment, the Spirit Seal’s box slipped from Wongeum’s grasp.

It hit the floor hard, the lid snapping open.

Muyeon’s eyes widened.

Inside the box was… nothing.

It had been empty all along.

Before the shock could settle, Wongeum drew a dagger from his belt. The blade gleamed with cold light.

Muyeon instinctively caught his wrist with his free hand — the two locking in a silent, violent struggle, each refusing to yield.