TSBIRBV Ch 318

Chapter 318. The White Lotus Cult (1)

“What do you mean by a heretical cult?”

In response to the Alliance Leader’s question, the Zhuge strategist replied,

“They lure commoners with a simple breathing technique—one that mimics martial arts internal cultivation methods—to expand their following. They call themselves the White Lotus Cult.”

“The White Lotus Cult…” murmured Peng Muguk, the clan head of Hebei’s Peng family, repeating the name under his breath.

It was a name he too had heard of recently.

“In addition to the White Lotus Cult, there are also groups calling themselves the Seven Lotus Sect, the Hundred Flowers Sect, and others. But they all appear to be connected to the White Lotus Cult.”

“I fail to see why this matter has been brought before the Murim Alliance,” said Hwangbo Yakrin, wrinkling her nose slightly. “Aren’t such heretical sects typically handled by the imperial family?”

“In principle, you are correct, Clan Head Hwangbo,” the Alliance Leader replied evenly. “However, there are suspicions that this so-called breathing technique may actually be a legitimate form of martial cultivation.”

“You mean to say,” Hwangbo Yakrin frowned, “that it might be demonic cultivation?”

The Alliance Leader shook his head slowly. “That much we do not yet know. It seems to be a recent development, but the organization’s internal unity is remarkable—and disturbingly closed off.”

“That’s how cults always are,” said Hwangbo Yakrin coldly. “The Heavenly Demon Cult of the Ten-Thousand Mountains is the same—so insular that no one who crosses its threshold ever returns alive.”

A faint curl of contempt tugged at her lips.

“…Unless, of course, they have defected.”

A chill fell over the council chamber.

Whether Hwangbo Yakrin had meant it as a jab or not was unclear, but the implication struck everyone the same way.

Those who remembered the name Je Haryang from twenty years ago could not help but recall him now.

Especially since his name had only just been mentioned earlier in connection to the affair of Yonghyeon Zhenren.

“Je Haryang of Kunlun—the Cloud Dragon of Kunlun.”

Once the foremost genius of his generation, a hero of unparalleled righteousness, who had vanished after being captured by the Demonic Cult in the Ten-Thousand Mountains.

Now, that very man ruled the legions of hell as their lord.

No matter how hard they tried to bury his name, it clawed its way out of the grave to face them again.

It struck not as mere disgust, but as fear—and shame.

Who, exactly, is she directing that scorn toward?

Peng Muguk did not bow his head like the others. Instead, he studied Hwangbo Yakrin quietly from across the room.

He knew, through his older brother Peng Munhyeong, of the rumors that had once surrounded Hwangbo Yakrin—then called Chaebong—and Je Haryang of Kunlun.

His brother had admired Je Haryang deeply, almost obsessively, and thus knew much of his affairs.

Anyone who knew of that youthful scandal could only hear Hwangbo Yakrin’s words now as a moral denunciation—perhaps even a personal one.

Hmm… something about this feels off.

Her emphasis on the word defector was too sharp, too deliberate.

It would be absurd to think that Hwangbo Yakrin, now a matron with a grown daughter, still harbored feelings for a man long presumed lost to the demonic path.

From what Peng Muguk had seen, Hwangbo Yakrin was steel both in public and in private.

When she inherited the leadership of the Hwangbo Clan, her rule had been nothing short of radical. She seized control from her father’s shadow and drove the clan forward without hesitation.

She did not flinch from crossing the Zhuge Clan’s influence to the north, or extending her reach toward the Namgung Clan’s borders in Anhui, even pressing upon the Peng Clan’s own territories in Hebei.

Losses had been many, but she had not so much as blinked.

Against orthodox sects, she showed some restraint; but against the demonic, she was merciless.

Perhaps because of that almost pathological sense of purity, she had little tolerance even for wandering swordsmen. It was said that there were no hired vagrants to be found outside the Hwangbo estate gates.

“The martial world has become far too chaotic lately,” Peng Muguk interjected suddenly.

The Zhuge strategist glanced at him, wary. There was a gleam in Peng’s eyes that hinted at ulterior motives, but he remained silent, waiting.

“What say we form a subjugation force?”

“A subjugation force?” repeated the Alliance Leader, visibly intrigued.

Usually, mobilizing figures from the Nine Great Sects or the Five Noble Clans required endless negotiation and concessions. But since the suggestion had come voluntarily from Hebei’s Peng Clan, it was worth hearing out.

“Who would be the targets?”

“For a start,” Peng Muguk said smoothly, “we could sweep the Yangtze tributaries near Wuhan—flush out the Green Forest bandits that Clan Head Hwangbo mentioned. And if we happen to catch some smaller fish along the way, all the better.”

He bit back the rest of his thought—a few rumors properly inflated could do wonders.

“If the Alliance mobilizes its martial forces without justification, the imperial court may not be pleased,” said Hwangbo Yakrin sharply.

And she was right. The Emperor had long tolerated martial autonomy under the unspoken law of “noninterference,” but he still watched closely whenever the Murim Alliance stirred too broadly.

“Ah, I’m not suggesting we deploy the Alliance’s main forces or the Nine Great Sects’ elite warriors,” Peng Muguk replied with feigned humility.

“I simply think it would be wise to send forth the young cultivators who shone at the Dragon–Phoenix Assembly—let them earn merit in the Central Plains.”

“A fine idea,” the Zhuge strategist nodded.

“Indeed, it has long been tradition for young heroes to embark on chivalrous expeditions—to restore order in the provinces, win the people’s hearts, and gain real combat experience.”

“Wudang will send disciples,” said an elder promptly.

He was eager to drown out the scandal of Yonghyeon Zhenren beneath the glory of his juniors’ valor.

“Kunlun as well,” said another.

The Kunlun Sect, too, would not miss this opportunity. With the Alliance’s support, their young disciples could gain experience safely under the guise of righteous action.

“It seems everyone is in agreement,” Peng Muguk said with a satisfied smile.

“I hear that the young mistress of the Hwangbo Clan has taken second place twice at the Dragon–Phoenix Assembly. Surely, a new generation of heroes—like her and Geum Hobong—will soon lead the martial world. It’s only proper they make a name for themselves now.”

Despite his honeyed tone, Hwangbo Yakrin’s face remained cold.

Her daughter had fallen short of victory—especially since the Namgung heir, last tournament’s champion, had not even participated. To her, Peng’s remark sounded less like praise and more like mockery.

“The young mistress of Hwangbo has no need of empty titles,” she replied curtly. Yet she did not refuse participation outright.

Her tone hardened. “And what of the Peng Clan? I don’t recall any of Hebei’s young disciples joining the last Assembly.”

“Ah, we’ll be sending the Fierce Tiger—Peng Munhyeong, my brother,” Peng Muguk said, grinning broadly.

The look on his face seemed to say, Can your clan boast such strength?

“If the Fierce Tiger leads them, these young heroes could hardly ask for a better guide,” said the Alliance Leader brightly.

His enthusiasm was exaggerated, clearly eager to seal the matter here and now.

“Very well. Excellent…” murmured Hwangbo Yakrin, leaning back in her chair.

The Yangtze… that’s troublesome.

She did not like the idea of her daughter being dragged into Peng Muguk’s little scheme. She had half a mind to invent an illness or a retreat into secluded training to keep her home.

But her normally obedient daughter had already defied her—packing up and leaving home, claiming she was going on a journey.

Now she was staying with Tang Sojaju, the young master of the Tang Clan… and with that man bearing the name Je Haryang, successor of the Thunder Spirit Fist.

Sending people after her would be difficult. Truth be told, Hwangbo Yakrin was still reeling from her daughter’s rebellion.

Yulhui had never once gone astray growing up. Their disagreements had come only after Yakrin imprisoned her own father in the Iron Tiger Hall. Yulhui had seemed to accept it at the time.

She had not realized her daughter had been waiting for the Dragon–Phoenix victory to demand his release.

It can’t be helped, Yakrin sighed inwardly.

I’ll have to use this expedition as a chance to bring her back.

“Very well. The Hwangbo Clan will participate,” she announced at last.

“Then it’s settled,” Peng Muguk said, meeting her gaze with a radiant, disarming smile.

“The first step is to select which young cultivators are fit to take part.”

At the Alliance Leader’s command, the Zhuge strategist bowed in acknowledgment. Peng Muguk chuckled jovially.

“A grand expedition led by the rising dragons of Murim—ah, it makes me feel young again! Hahaha!”

The meeting adjourned.

Rising from her seat, Hwangbo Yakrin dismissed her attendants and walked alone down the long corridor.

Yonghyeon Zhenren…

To her, he was still more familiar as Wudang’s Rising Dragon.

His fall from grace—the swift ruin of the foremost swordsman of Wudang, one of the greatest under heaven—had been too clean, too deliberate.

As though some unseen hand had neatly arranged his downfall.

If Yonghyeon truly meant to kill Baekyang Zhenren, the matter would not have unfolded so chaotically.

Her heart stirred, though not out of sorrow or sympathy.

But if—just if—that man had orchestrated this, framing Yonghyeon for revenge…

Impossible.

Her lips curved faintly in self-mockery.

That man—her own blood by half—was far too dull, far too guileless for such a plot.

Even as the unrivaled Lord of the Demonic Cult, commanding forces that could flatten the Central Plains, he had never once sought vengeance.

No… Yonghyeon must have simply provoked someone he should never have touched.

Shaking off her unease, she stepped out into the courtyard.

It had taken her so many years to bury her ghosts, yet certain memories still pressed down upon her like stones.

They rose now, unbidden, from the depths of her mind.

“Brother!”

“Yakrin… you’ve come.”

The image of a smiling boy lowering his book flickered in her vision.

She bit her lip until she tasted blood.

Then, the scene shifted—darkness, and a bloodstained hand reaching toward her.

“Sister… sister…”

Had she truly turned away so easily, without hesitation?

Even so… I do not regret it.

With that thought, Hwangbo Yakrin walked slowly out of the Murim Alliance’s halls.

If she regretted anything at all, it was that, in that fateful moment, she had not found the strength to drive her sword through Je Haryang’s heart.

He was a man who should never have been allowed to exist.