CH 3 #Did You Really Think I Wouldn’t Recognize You? (2)
Jang I-seo swung his shoulders like a sling, raising his right hand as if poised to strike while tilting his posture.
With resolute eyes, he murmured softly:
“9,872nd attempt. Let’s go.”
Without any preparatory stance, he thrust his hand forward in a straight line.
A white dagger trailing a thin iron chain shot forth like a beam of light—the hidden weapon that had slain the 5th-grade demon Yong-woo.
But this time was different. If its previous speed had been lightning-fast, now...
『White Thunder (白雷)』
Flash! The dark cavern instantly brightened.
Crackle! The dagger transformed into pure white lightning, hurtling toward the wall.
An inconceivable speed. Who could dodge this? A direct hit would mean instant death.
Yet the true challenge began now.
Clang!
The dagger lodged perfectly into the wall’s central groove like a key in a lock, the chain snapping taut.
A faint smile flickered on Jang I-seo’s lips. Luck was with him today—normally, even this first step was grueling.
Next phase.
Boom!
The cavern trembled as his inner energy surged. His collar fluttered and hair whipped wildly.
But even this was merely first-rate prowess.
For a spy, it was lacking—his energy still turbid.
The true marvel came next.
『Thunder Conversion Art (雷轉法)』
Sizzle! His impure inner energy, circulating through his meridians, mutated into thunderous force. The sluggish flow didn’t just accelerate—it became light itself!
Light erupted from his eyes as thunder roared!
At its peak, lightning crackled around him with an ear-splitting boom.
“Time to end this—!”
Zap!
Thunder energy surged from his body through the chain into the embedded dagger.
Then, the miraculous occurred.
Flash! Flash!
White light raced through the wall’s labyrinthine grooves, illuminating them like glowing veins.
A breathtaking spectacle—yet more astonishing was the emerging pattern resembling a demon’s visage.
Hence this place’s name: Demon Wall.
The light passed the halfway mark, speeding toward the demon’s final two eyes.
‘Just a little more.’
Jang I-seo’s heart burned as his energy drained, squeezing out every drop like wringing a newborn’s strength.
Seven years. Over 9,000 attempts.
This time—
This time—
“Raaaaah!”
A soul-scorching roar echoed.
But—
Hssss.
The deflating sigh of defeat resounded through the cavern.
Light vanished mercilessly.
Failure.
Snap! He yanked the chain, the dagger retreating into his arm guard as the coil wrapped around his wrist.
“Damn it all.”
Thud. He collapsed spread-eagle on the ground.
“Hah... haa...”
Frustration tinged his labored breaths.
Yet this was revolutionary—a human body emitting lightning!
While inner energy’s nature typically depends on one’s cultivation method, Jang I-seo had transformed murky energy into supreme thunder force.
An unprecedented ability in the Central Plains.
These were his rewards from the Heavenly Demon’s Vault:
White Thunder (白雷)—a white dagger on an unbreakable chain.
Thunder Monarch Ginseng (雷君蔘)—cliff-grown, lightning-struck mountain roots.
Thunder Conversion Art (雷轉法)—the technique transmuting inner energy into thunder.
The vault was an ancient repository left to pass down martial secrets.
But the problem...
“No progress. None.”
The Thunder Conversion Art wasn’t cultivation—it was a near-demonic craft converting stored energy into explosive thunder, violently accelerating its flow. The ginseng helped his body endure it; White Thunder channeled the power.
He’d mastered it all, gaining fleeting bursts of transcendent speed and strength through genius alone.
He intuited truth: when the wall’s grooves fully lit, the next stage would unlock.
“But I keep failing. Why? This cursed dantian! Energy is the Thunder Art’s fuel, yet mine’s too impure—like rotten firewood.”
Officially recognized as the Demon Sect’s 103rd genius, he’d been granted insight into mysteries but denied a stable dantian.
Born with clogged meridians and a Nine-Aperture Body (九竅肢體)—nine holes in his dantian capping his energy reserves.
The Thunder Conversion Art let him surpass his limits momentarily, but his feeble energy couldn’t sustain it.
“Maybe tomorrow.”
Yet Jang I-seo remained the man who could laugh through despair itself.
Jang Yi-seo abruptly stood up and headed toward the weapon display.
“Let’s see—what should I offer to win over the Great Lord?”
The Great Lord of Counter-Espionage, Gyeomsaik.
Forty-two years old, with curly shoulder-length hair. He had many women but no wife. Though his temper was foul, he fiercely protected his subordinates’ lives, earning their quiet loyalty.
His rank was Great Lord (4th-grade noble), yet his skill rivaled that of a Lord (2nd-grade noble). Notably, there were only five Lords in the Demonic Cult.
To put it plainly: even if you combined the Left and Right Guardians, the Seven Elders, the Cult Leader’s children, and all hidden masters, Gyeomsaik would still rank within the top 50.
“Yet he refuses promotion. Why? He’s obsessed with money. I’d do the same. If I were a Great Lord, I’d have filled this room by now. So envious…”
Handing over his hard-earned treasures to such a man made his stomach twist and his body shudder.
But for the mission, a transfer was unavoidable.
“Will this work?”
Jang Yi-seo stroked his chin and grabbed a long hwandao (a traditional Korean sword) from the display. The red scabbard gleamed with black floral carvings, while the attached golden plaque read:
【Golden Severing Blade (金削刀)】
Swoosh! Zing!
“Quiet.”
As Jang Yi-seo unsheathed the blade, a faint golden glow rippled along its razor edge, as if craving blood. An unmistakably priceless sword.
“The Golden Severing Blade contains the purest gold. Perfect for a money-obsessed Great Lord.”
Click. He sheathed it, satisfied.
This would suffice. Gyeomsaik was a sword fanatic who’d recently dropped hints about acquiring a new hwandao.
Now, action was needed.
The Mad Seventh Prince.
A covert operation to infiltrate his circle.
As a spy should.
At twilight, Jang Yi-seo arrived at a small village near his quarters: Bangga Village (方家村), a clan settlement of the Cheonsan Bang family.
One might question his visit, but spies relied on diverse contacts.
For instance, hanging a cinnamon-scented note on a crow-haunted apricot tree summoned the Baiwu Gate (白烏門)—the “Crow Cleaners”—who discreetly erased evidence for a steep price. Their flawless work made them spy favorites.
Or stacking two Western silver coins at an Eohae Village inn earned a baijiu bottle. Unfolding the cork’s cloth revealed Central Plains news in braille.
Like night and day, shadows operated everywhere.
This time, his destination was a bookstore he’d frequented for seven years:
【Zhuge Bookstore (諸葛書館)】
Tilting his black hat’s brim, he spotted its weathered sign. Not a rebellious act—just a “Zhuge” among Bangs, deep in the Demonic Cult’s Cheonsan. Audacious. Even more absurd: the owner had no Zhuge lineage.
The Bang couple raised him, yet he’d renamed himself “Zhuge Liang’s descendant,” claiming a birth swap during their (nonexistent) Central Plains trip. The Bangs? Lifelong villagers who’d never left Cheonsan.
Unsurprisingly, the owner was eccentric—and his work matched.
Creak.
“Owner here?”
Jang Yi-seo entered the book-crammed shop. Silence. No owner—just an earlier guest.
A spy’s instinct flared: assess with minimal clues.
He scanned her: height to his chin, sleek tied hair, delicate ears, slender neck—
…A sulky badger?
She turned, revealing a round nose and pouty lips. His face scrunched in distaste.
“Why stare?” she snapped.
“Ah, well…” He scratched his head. Only one answer:
“You just look… odd.”
“What?”
“Apologies if offended. Unintentional, but—”
“You vulgar brute!”
Swish! She glanced at him with disdain, brushed past him, and headed outside.
"Listen here, lady. That’s going too far. Since the day I was born, my noble aura has been so overpowering that even servants passing by bowed their heads. Hey, stop right there!"
Just as he reached out to stop her, an old man’s voice echoed from inside.
"What lunatic’s spouting nonsense now? Of course, it’s you again."
His mustache curled neatly at the tips, and he wore a headband like the ones Zhuge Liang favored.
"Innkeeper."
The owner of the tavern, Zhuge Guilong.
Squeak! Slam!
In the split second he turned his head, the woman violently shut the door and stormed out. Ugh, fantastic. Jang I-seo clucked his tongue in annoyance.
"What the hell did you do?"
"Maybe she’s smitten with me?"
"Have you ever seen such a madman? No wonder you’re still unmarried."
"Aren’t you being harsh for a fellow bachelor?"
"Enough. State your business or get out."
What a temper. Jang I-seo scrubbed his forehead irritably. He then strode to Zhuge Guilong behind the counter, pulled a thick money pouch from his robe, and thumped it onto the counter.
"One dossier on a notable figure."
Setting the trap.
"Who?"
"The last Little Devil."
The seventh and youngest adopted son of the Heavenly Demon.
The reckless young lord, Mao.
"Scope?"
The trap to capture him.
"Everything."
Their eyes locked in the air.
Then Zhuge Guilong slid the pouch into his sleeve.
Deal sealed.
A smug smile curled at Jang’s lips.
Mao. Wait.
I’ll be coming for you soon.
#Did you really think I wouldn’t know who you are? (3)
