HDCLSSRS Ch 175
by berryChapter 175 Reunion (5)
The thick tree trunk crashed to the ground right beside the Demonic Cultist.
Had it fallen even an inch closer…
His entire body would have been flattened.
The color drained from his face.
Then, his eyes caught the emblem embroidered on the man’s robes.
He nearly wished he could faint on the spot.
Mount Hua.
That imposing figure.
And the black sword gleaming at his waist…
Wasn’t that the legendary Life-Binding Sword?
Demon-Slaying Blood Shadow… Baek Ryeoil…
Within the Demonic Cult—
Especially among the rising faction serving the Third Young Master, the so-called New Demonic Cult—
His infamy reached the heavens.
Once someone affiliated with the Demonic Cult fell into Baek Ryeoil’s hands…
No one ever returned alive.
The Demonic Cultist himself had witnessed countless comrades leave on missions, only to vanish forever.
Every single time…
One name inevitably surfaced.
Rumor had it that Baek Ryeoil enjoyed pulling out his enemies’ intestines and fondling them simply because he liked the sensation.
…Who starts rumors like that when nobody ever survives to tell the tale?
Under normal circumstances, such a contradiction might have occurred to him.
Unfortunately…
He was far too terrified to think rationally.
Crack.
Baek Ryeoil’s clenched fist let out a sharp sound as his anger reached its limit.
“…Ha. So you really were hiding there. I should’ve realized sooner.”
The Demonic Cultist felt a chill race down his spine.
He knew I was here!
When did he find me?
How long has he been following me?
An oppressive aura slowly seeped from Baek Ryeoil’s body.
A killing intent so overwhelming it made every hair stand on end.
Without question…
He had known the Demonic Cultist was hiding there all along.
He had simply pretended otherwise…
Enjoying the pressure he was inflicting.
So the rumors were true…
He’s utterly monstrous…
At this point…
The Demonic Cultist had very few options left.
Finally, he threw himself out of the bushes.
Bang!
His forehead slammed against the ground as he prostrated himself.
“Please spare my life!”
“…Huh?”
“I’ll tell you everything! Our organization, our positions—anything you want to know! Please… just spare me!”
Because his forehead remained pressed against the dirt…
He failed to see the bewildered look on Baek Ryeoil’s face.
Even Kang Ung, who had just caught up, stood there with his mouth hanging open.
“So…”
Baek Ryeoil asked,
“The camp is about half a day’s journey from here?”
“Yes! That’s correct!”
The Demonic Cultist was eventually dragged back.
In front of Seong Muyon, the Owl, Baek Ryeoil, Kang Ung, Paeng Dohwan, and the villagers…
He poured out everything he knew.
“There are fifteen men stationed there in total! It won’t be difficult for all of you to deal with them!”
When someone gets desperate enough…
They really can become this pathetic.
Clicking his tongue inwardly, Seong Muyon suddenly realized…
Not so long ago…
He himself had looked exactly like this.
Flat on the ground before Baek Ryeoil.
…I really shouldn’t live like that again.
“Why were the villagers taken?”
Paeng Dohwan crouched beside the Demonic Cultist.
“And what about Lord Yakseon?”
“I-I don’t really know…”
The vague answer made Paeng Dohwan slowly reach for the hilt of his greatsword.
The Demonic Cultist immediately prostrated himself again.
“I-I really don’t know! I’m just a low-ranking member who follows orders! There were rumors going around that Commander Dokgoe wanted test subjects for a newly developed poison, but…!”
Paeng Dohwan stood up.
“If you’ve laid a trap…”
His voice turned icy.
“Or if you’ve lied…”
“You have my word! I just want to survive! The Demonic Cult? I never liked them much anyway!”
“……”
Paeng Dohwan stared down at him with unconcealed contempt.
Then—
Thud!
He kicked him squarely in the back.
“What are you waiting for? We don’t have time to waste! Lead the way!”
“Y-Yes! Of course! This way! Please follow me!”
Not long afterward…
The villagers who had gone seeking help finally returned.
They arrived together with martial artists from the Martial Alliance.
Entrusting the aftermath to them, the group departed immediately.
Yakseon’s life—
Along with the villagers being held hostage—
Allowed for no delay.
The moment they stepped beyond the village…
Baek Ryeoil and Kang Ung were already waiting.
They had finished preparing before everyone else.
Baek Ryeoil’s gaze immediately settled upon Seong Muyon.
It felt as though those eyes were piercing straight through the mask.
Seong Muyon hurriedly looked away.
“Let’s go.”
Paeng Dohwan took the lead, dragging the Demonic Cultist behind him.
Baek Ryeoil and Kang Ung followed.
Finally…
Seong Muyon and the Owl quietly brought up the rear.
The Owl lightly patted Seong Muyon’s waist, silently telling him not to worry.
How long had they been climbing the mountain under the Demonic Cultist’s guidance?
For the first several hours…
No one spoke.
It was Paeng Dohwan who finally broke the stiff silence.
“You said there are fifteen enemies?”
He grinned.
“Then I’ll take eight.
Emotionless Sword can have seven.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
Baek Ryeoil snorted.
“If we don’t divide them now, you’ll get carried away and kill them all before I get my turn.”
Baek Ryeoil scoffed.
“If you’re so eager to fight, why don’t you kill them all yourself?”
“And while I’m fighting?”
Paeng Dohwan smirked.
“You’ll just stand there with your hands behind your back like some noble lord? I’d rather not witness that again.”
While the two exchanged idle banter…
Seong Muyon was dying.
“Haa… haa…”
He desperately tried to steady his ragged breathing so he wouldn’t draw the attention of the martial artists ahead.
But…
There was little he could do about his rapidly failing stamina.
Baek Ryeoil.
Paeng Dohwan.
Kang Ung.
They were martial artists whose bodies had been tempered through relentless training.
That much was understandable.
But even the Owl climbed the steep mountain path as though strolling across level ground.
Only Seong Muyon struggled.
Before he knew it…
The sky had turned crimson beneath the setting sun.
Although cool evening winds blew across the mountains…
Sweat poured from him like rain.
Apparently irritated by his labored breathing…
Baek Ryeoil repeatedly glanced back at him with a deep frown.
At first, Seong Muyon worried that drawing attention to himself would revive Baek Ryeoil’s buried suspicions.
Before long…
He no longer had the luxury of worrying about such things.
He was simply trying not to collapse.
His feet caught on exposed roots again and again.
His legs gradually lost all strength.
Finally…
His foot landed on a loose rock.
His body lurched violently sideways.
“Be careful….”
Thanks to the Owl catching him, he didn’t fall.
But it was enough to make the people ahead stop walking.
Among them…
Baek Ryeoil looked at him with particularly cold eyes.
“You…”
“How much farther?”
The moment Baek Ryeoil opened his mouth…
Paeng Dohwan interrupted.
“Almost there….”
The Demonic Cultist answered quickly.
“We’re nearly there.”
Paeng Dohwan swept his gaze across the surrounding terrain before pointing toward a hollow depression in the mountainside.
“We should rest here and move once night falls.”
Baek Ryeoil seemed to consider it briefly.
Then, without objection…
He headed over.
Dragging his trembling legs behind him, Seong Muyon finally managed to collapse into a corner.
“Here.”
The Owl handed him a waterskin.
“Drink.”
Out of habit, Seong Muyon opened his mouth to thank him.
No sound emerged.
Instead…
He bowed his head in gratitude before slightly lifting his mask to drink.
“I’ll scout the surrounding terrain.”
Having said that…
Baek Ryeoil disappeared without waiting for anyone’s response.
“Young Hero…”
Kang Ung turned to the Owl.
“Could you take a look at this man?”
He pointed toward the Demonic Cultist lying nearby.
“He’s breaking out in cold sweats and has a high fever. I think his wound has become infected.”
“……”
“I know he’s one of the Demonic Cult, but until we locate Lord Yakseon… he has to stay alive.”
The Owl clearly looked reluctant.
But after Kang Ung added that final sentence…
He finally rose and walked over.
While Seong Muyon forced himself to chew strips of dried jerky in hopes of recovering even a little strength…
Paeng Dohwan returned carrying an armful of dry branches.
“I suppose it’s fine to light a fire.”
He muttered almost to himself.
“The sky’s overcast, and it’ll be dark soon enough.”
As he casually arranged the branches atop the campfire…
Seong Muyon absentmindedly watched his hands.
A moment later—
Whoosh.
Bright flames sprang to life.
…This feels strange.
It was…
So peaceful.
If even one member of the group—
Paeng Dohwan included—
Discovered who he truly was…
This quiet peace would become impossible.
That realization filled him with an indescribable feeling.
Because it meant…
Such peace could only exist while he erased himself from the world.
While pretending he didn’t exist.
“That sword belonged to my late brother.”
Paeng Dohwan’s voice pulled Seong Muyon from his thoughts.
“You’ve been staring at the two greatswords.”
He smiled faintly.
“I figured you were wondering why I’d carry two weapons I can’t even dual-wield.”
Only then did Seong Muyon notice…
Paeng Dohwan had removed both enormous greatswords from his back.
They now rested carefully against a nearby tree trunk.
His gaze had unconsciously lingered there.
Apparently…
Paeng Dohwan had noticed.
“They’re the only keepsake my older brother left behind.”
Paeng Dohwan settled comfortably onto the ground with a bitter smile.
“……”
“There’s no need to look so sorry.”
His tone remained calm.
“It all happened a long time ago.
I’m fine now.”
But…
His expression said the exact opposite.
As he stared quietly into the campfire…
Profound longing—
And unmistakable pain—
Reflected plainly across his face.