TSBIRBV Ch 234

Chapter 234. Biheeyeon (4)

Just then, Haryang reappeared, having closed the secret passage behind him.

“Senior Brother, look at this. Baembaem seems about to shed his skin.”

“Shed?”

“Yes. He may be a spirit creature, a Thousand Year Thunder Python, but a snake is still a snake… See how his eyes have turned bluish, clouded with a hazy film? And how he’s rubbing against his surroundings? Those are signs he’s about to molt.”

“Is there anything this Senior Brother must do to help?”

“If we make the area dim and provide plenty of water, he’ll manage on his own. As for food, I’ll take care of it…”

At Yegyeol’s fingertip, golden sparks flickered. Seeing how the creature even ate lightning, it truly did seem to be a spirit beast. Haryang gave a low laugh.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Only, he is already extraordinary enough—and if he sheds, he may well ascend as a dragon.”

At his words, Yegyeol unconsciously clutched Baembaem to his chest. If he truly were to become a dragon, letting him go would be the right choice. But after growing so attached, the thought of Baembaem soaring away brought a pang of regret.

Whether he sensed Yegyeol’s heart or not, the little snake only blinked his wide eyes, moving more sluggishly than usual before dipping his head back into the basin.

Setting the golden serpent back down, Yegyeol returned to Haryang’s side.

“It’s already been three days since we’ve secluded ourselves here. Still no news?”

“Samrang has yet to return—we must wait. And…”

Haryang tilted his chin toward the outside.

“It seems there is some matter stirring.”

Not long after, a presence was felt beyond the door. The shadow cast across the sliding paper screen was so large it covered it entirely. Yegyeol easily guessed who it was.

“My lord.”

The voice of Yao Hongyeo came from outside.

“Enter.”

The door slid open, and Hongyeo stepped in.

“Lord Myeong has come seeking audience.”

Yegyeol lifted his head. The Myeong clan was one of the Mado Six Families. Samrang had explained before: besides the Jin clan head they had met earlier, and the Gong clan head now imprisoned in the dungeon, there were also the Wol clan, the Hyeon clan, the Tak clan, and the Myeong clan.

“Lord Myeong?”

Haryang tilted his head slightly.

“I did not expect Myeong Jinyu to be the first to step forward. And his reason?”

“He claims he has tidings regarding Biheeyeon.”

“Biheeyeon…”

At Hongyeo’s reply, Haryang murmured,

“So it has come already. Wandering beyond the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains for so long, I had all but forgotten.”

“Biheeyeon?”

Puzzlement laced Yegyeol’s voice, and Haryang answered.

“It is one of the greatest events of the Demonic Cult.”

His tone softened as he explained.

“As its name—Bi-Hee—implies, it is a feast where sorrow and joy intertwine. It is held once a year, and serves as a stage for cultists to display their strength publicly. Through contests, one may rise to desired positions—or be struck down by challengers and fall in rank.”

So it was a demonic version of a martial tournament—but one where lives and authority were at stake.

“Since all participants wield demonic arts, accidents often occur. Deaths are common. At times, it has even been used as a tool to eliminate rivals. For that reason, a rule stands: if one is challenged three times, no further challenges are permitted. Likewise, one who has already been defeated cannot be summoned again.”

It was strikingly different from orthodox martial competitions. The Demonic Cult ensured that weakening a rival through repeated forced duels was not easily done. Whatever else could be said, they insisted that the measure of martial skill itself be decided fairly.

Compared with orthodox martial gatherings—where plots and favoritism ensured scions of great sects always came out ahead—this almost felt honorable.

Another curious aspect: they did not call it a tournament or a match, but a banquet. It revealed the cult’s unique temperament: treating even combat as a kind of jubilant revel.

“They truly settle things in a straightforward way.”

“Not entirely… Those who enter Biheeyeon are permitted to use poison or stratagems as well. The demonic arts are so varied that to forbid such means would bar some from ever rising at all. Within the dueling grounds, everything is permitted.”

Haryang’s expression grew distant, as though recalling some scene of the past.

“Could someone… challenge Senior Brother—the Cheonma himself?”

“Hm…” Haryang let his voice trail off, as though troubled.

“To challenge the Cheonma requires a certain qualification. Those who have attained such a height are not so rash.”

Yao Hongyeo answered in his stead.

“I see.”

Yegyeol pressed a hand to his chest in relief. He knew Haryang’s strength, yet instinct still cried out to protect him. Half of it was the imprint left by other espers drilling that instinct into him; the other half was simply the innate reflex of an esper.

Haryang was his lifeline. Yegyeol remembered vividly what it was to live without a guide. He need think no further back than the days after arriving in Murim, sent to Kunlun, when each day he withered away, dying by inches.

So even now he felt a fierce urge to shield Haryang.

“Did Lord Myeong give a reason for raising the matter of Biheeyeon?”

“He earnestly petitioned to take over the duties left vacant by Lord Gong.”

“And not the Hyeon clan, with whom Gong’s clan had long-standing ties, but the Myeong clan?”

Though Haryang’s lips curved softly, his face revealed little of his thoughts.

Perhaps Lord Myeong simply coveted authority, desiring to preside over one of the cult’s grandest events.

Je Haryang was the one who had turned the Eight Demonic Families into six. Yet he did not rule Ilwol Shingyo as the cult itself, but held his place firmly as its Cheonma. His realm was so high that no one dared even attempt to unseat him.

Thus, if anything untoward befell Biheeyeon, Lord Myeong would shoulder the blame—and Haryang would hold him to account. If he valued his life, Myeong would spare no effort to make the feast a success.

If, that is, he valued his life.

But whether there was profit enough in risking death to strike at Haryang remained uncertain.

Once again Yegyeol felt his own ignorance keenly. He had thought himself somewhat versed in this world, but centuries had passed since his original death, and the world around Haryang had changed too much.

Still, he was no longer a boy. He knew now that Murim did not move only on bonds of gratitude and enmity. Calculations of gain and loss weighed just as heavily.

Therefore, Yegyeol realized he must delve deeper into the workings of the cult. Without truly understanding the other side, anything he did for Haryang might prove meaningless.

If you know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear a hundred battles. He already knew himself. Now it was time to grasp the opponents across the ring.

“Grant me leave,” Yegyeol whispered to Haryang.

“I intended to already… but do you have some plan in mind?” Haryang asked, turning to him.

“If Biheeyeon is such a grand event, many will attend, won’t they?”

“All the cultists within the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains will gather.”

Yegyeol remembered the day he first learned Haryang’s true identity and stepped across the threshold into those mountains. He could still see the endless crowd filling the grounds, all wielders of demonic arts, their countless gazes fixed solely upon Haryang.

Eyes alight with fanatic adoration, envy, reverence, and yearning.

“I want to stay at Senior Brother’s side, so everyone gathered can see me.”

He grinned guilelessly, as though harboring no hidden intent. After the incident with Lord Jin, he knew he needed to establish his place here if he meant to remain.

At the same time, he could serve as bait dangling from Haryang’s hook.

“A good child takes his medicine and stays in bed,” Haryang’s voice turned stern.

After all, they had spread word that Yegyeol had been gravely wounded in the Cheonghyeongjeon attack, intending to keep him hidden during Biheeyeon.

“But what if Taehyangjeon is attacked as well?”

Yegyeol widened his eyes, fluttering his lashes.

“Suddenly… a bolt from a clear sky might strike…”

It was little more than blackmail disguised as a declaration.

At his disciple’s shamelessly audacious words, Haryang stared silently at him.

“Is there something you wish to gain there?”

“There’s too much I don’t know. I want to see and feel it myself.”

Who Je Haryang truly was, what it meant to be Cheonma, who his enemies were, and what drove his actions.

“…There is some merit in showing Master Mun before the cultists at least once,” Yao Hongyeo interjected, lending weight to Yegyeol’s request.

Since Hongyeo was a man who rarely spoke unbidden, his words carried heavy gravity.

Haryang looked at him in surprise.

“You suggest I display him amidst a throng of frenzied cultists?”

“I believe it wiser to let them know his face. If you mean to keep him by your side, concealment is more dangerous than exposure.”

Haryang’s silence that followed was itself an answer.

On the day they returned to the mountains, he had carried Yegyeol up the high steps—but that could hardly be called a formal introduction. Since then, he had shielded Yegyeol from public sight.

He had allowed him to explore the inner sect with Samrang at his side, but had not moved with him openly. Meanwhile, rumors of Yegyeol’s presence swelled unchecked, passed mouth to mouth, exaggerated with each telling.

Only Muyoungdae, who had guarded Cheonghyeongjeon, and Lord Jin, who had confronted him when he returned there, had actually seen him in person.

That fellow had seemed rather frivolous, and yet curiously no rumors spread afterward…

Yegyeol smacked his lips in regret, remembering how he had made a spectacle of himself before Lord Jin, intent on ruining any marriage prospects with his Senior Brother.

Curiosity, he knew, could be the most dangerous spark of all. Which made Hongyeo’s suggestion all the more apt.

“Yet you know as well as I that exposing him now will paint a target on his back.”

“I shall fulfill my duty,” Hongyeo bowed deeply, his face as stolid as ever.

“My lord need only enjoy the fruits.”

At last, Haryang turned his gaze back to Yegyeol.

“I concede.”

Yegyeol nearly shouted for joy. Instead, he glanced up at him with a beaming smile and promised,

“I’ll do my best to restrain myself.”

Of course, Haryang knew full well that this was no promise not to cause trouble. Yet he ruffled his disciple’s hair anyway, as if to dispel a lingering unease.

Turning to his subordinates, he gave his order.

“Summon Lord Myeong in two shichen’s time.”

That would bring the meeting close to midnight, but Haryang cared little.

“To lay the board, one must place in his hands exactly what he desires.”

Footnotes:

• Biheeyeon (悲喜宴): Literally “Feast of Sorrow and Joy,” an annual event of the Demonic Cult that combines revelry with brutal martial contests. It functions as both celebration and trial by combat, with life, rank, and power at stake. Unlike orthodox martial tournaments, poison and tricks are permitted, reflecting the ruthless pragmatism of the cult.