CH 23
“Tell me what you desire. You’ve done well, so I’ll grant you a reward.”
Sahaeryung spoke in a low voice. Honestly, she had never said such words to anyone before—not even to her aide, Narak. She simply found Jang Yi-seo admirable for persevering through harsh conditions, which gave her the faint courage to offer this gesture.
“Hmm… If I ask, will you give me anything?”
A loaded question. Sahaeryung met his gaze with weight in her eyes.
“Excessive greed invites ruin. But if you’re prepared to face the consequences, I’ll grant anything.”
“Sounds tempting. I usually love risks, but not now. Later. I’ll ask when I truly need it.”
“So you’re hoarding a favor? Unpleasant, but I’ll allow it this time since I offered first.”
“How generous.”
Sahaeryung snorted and turned away, refilling her cup before draining it in one go.
Jang Yi-seo watched, impressed. Even seasoned men would struggle with such potent liquor, yet she drank effortlessly without using internal energy to neutralize its effects.
After several more cups, Sahaeryung abruptly asked, “What’s your relationship with that Hongran?”
Her face seemed slightly flushed—perhaps from the alcohol—as she rested her chin on her hand.
“What, like someone who scratches an itch?”
“Hmph. Typical of men…”
“Are you jealous?”
Sahaeryung fixed him with a drowsy stare before murmuring, “…In Tian Shan, a woman of power may command ten men. Keep prying, and I’ll strip you bare without breaking a sweat.”
“Wow…”
“What’s that reaction?”
“Too terrified to speak.”
“Hmph. A man like you means nothing to me. Don’t delude yourself.”
Jang Yi-seo shrugged and downed his drink. Sahaeryung rose to leave.
“Leaving already?”
“I’ve stayed too long.”
It was true—lingering at gatherings was unlike her busy, regimented life. When Jang Yi-seo moved to escort her, she raised a hand to stop him.
“The sect leader holds private breakfasts with his adopted children—a formal assessment of their achievements. The Seventh Prince’s turn comes in two weeks. Did you know?”
“Hmm.”
Jang Yi-seo sighed instead of answering. As a spy, feigning ignorance of such events was a glaring failure, yet he shamelessly shook his head.
Sahaeryung glanced at Mao in the distance. “He likely didn’t tell you.”
Her tone hinted at deeper issues. Had Mao even skipped past meetings? Jang Yi-seo frowned.
“Don’t worry. I’ll ensure he attends.”
Defying the Heavenly Demon’s will was unthinkable now. And secretly, his heart raced at the prospect of meeting Jin Wuguang—the world’s undisputed strongest martial artist.
But then—
“Don’t go.”
“What?”
“Delay until the next cycle. Enter seclusion instead.”
“Explain.”
“Attendance alone won’t grant you an audience. The Seventh Prince must open the Heavenly Demon Hall’s door himself—something he’s never done.”
“What?”
“Fail this time, and he may lose his title. Without it… Mao won’t survive.”
Jang Yi-seo exhaled sharply. Stripped? The severity stunned him, yet Sahaeryung’s face showed no malice.
“That’s all I can say.”
Her footsteps faded as she descended the stairs. Jang Yi-seo stared blankly at Mao dancing below.
“Never opened the door? Why?”
The reason didn’t matter. One truth remained: Mao would attend the upcoming meeting—no matter the cost.
The next day, rain drummed loudly as Jang Yi-seo flung open the Seventh Prince’s window. Mao lay sprawled, still unconscious from last night’s revelry.
“Pathetic,” Jang Yi-seo muttered, leaning against the wall. The fool had drunkenly schmoozed sect elites until dawn—a pitiful display, yet the arrogant higher-ups saw it as “generosity.”
At least Mao doesn’t judge by status, he mused. Today, I’ll let him sleep it off.
“Ugh… Pfah! Damn it! Why’d you open the window, you lunatic?! My face is soaked!”
Jang Yi-seo smirked. He’d never promised shelter from the rain.
"Let’s talk."
*
Jang Yi-seo and Mao sat facing each other across a table.
The reception room, once adorned with expensive masterpieces and lavish decorations, was now nearly empty, with only a few flower pots remaining after everything had been sold off.
"Why aren’t you speaking?"
Jang Yi-seo skipped the small talk and went straight to the point, leaving Mao bewildered.
"What?"
Pretending ignorance, Jang Yi-seo narrowed his eyes sharply and snapped,
"The breakfast meeting with the sect leader in two weeks."
Mao’s face stiffened instantly. It seemed the matter had been weighing on him too.
"...Must I spell it out for you?"
"Of course not. Figuring things out is my job."
"Then what’s the issue?"
"You claimed you’ve never opened the door to the Heavenly Demon Hall. Explain yourself. Were you planning to humiliate me this time?"
"That’s—!"
Mao stammered, then glared and retorted,
"And why do you keep using informal speech with me?"
"Since when? Stay on topic. Why didn’t you open the door? Not hungry? Lost your appetite? Or do you fancy starving for days?"
"Hey!"
Mao shot to his feet, seething. But his opponent was Jang Yi-seo. Hey? Jang Yi-seo also stood abruptly, eyes scanning him up and down.
Mao exhaled sharply, turned his head away, and muttered under his breath,
"It’s not that I didn’t open it."
"Then?"
"I couldn’t open it."
"Why? Who stopped you?"
"What? I don’t know how to open it!"
"What did you say?"
"I said I don’t know how to open the damn door!"
Jang Yi-seo blinked several times. Had he misheard? Opening a door was simple—push, pull, slide. Even a toddler could manage it.
"Hard to open, my ass. Maybe a beating’ll loosen your hands."
"Come here. I’ll show you."
Jang Yi-seo stepped forward menacingly. Mao recoiled and shrieked,
"I’m serious! I don’t know, you bastard!"
"That’s why I’m teaching you!"
"No, you idiot! Someone rigged the door! It won’t budge no matter what you do!"
"What...?"
As Jang Yi-seo froze in shock, Mao clutched his chest and whined,
"You think I want to starve? And quit the damn informal talk!"
Jang Yi-seo frowned.
Heavenly Demon Hall... What secrets lie inside?
Thud!
He flung the door open and strode out.
Heavenly Demon Hall.
The heart of Heavenly Mountain, where the Heavenly Demon dwelled.
Few knew of this place, where the world’s darkest schemes seemed to fester.
When Zhuge So-mi once asked her grandfather, Zhuge Shang—renowned as the greatest mind alive—about the hall, he called it "a place above storm clouds."
In other words: unseen, untouchable, and fatal to those who sought its secrets.
Even in this age of spies, the hall remained the world’s most guarded mystery.
This included Jang Yi-seo, a 14-year veteran of the Demon Sect.
Thus, he trudged through torrential rain to his destination.
【Zhuge Library】
The most accessible source of Demon Sect knowledge Jang Yi-seo knew. If anyone could explain Mao’s door, it was here.
Creak.
"Anyone here?"
The shabby library greeted him with damp air. He shook rainwater from his cloak and stepped inside.
A middle-aged man resembling Zhuge Liang sat at a table, arms folded and eyes closed.
Zhuge Gyu-ryong. Owner of this place, born Bang Gyu-ryong, son of Bang Ga.
"Sleeping?"
Jang Yi-seo rapped the table. No response. The man lay as still as a corpse.
"Hmm. He’s not asleep," Jang Yi-seo chuckled. As the Dark Corner’s top agent, he knew better.
The man’s breath was steady, his Adam’s apple twitching. No one swallowed that much saliva while asleep.
Greedy types like him slept lightly and heard everything. Jang Yi-seo would know—he was one.
"Enough pretending. Get up."
The man mumbled incoherently and buried his face in his arms.
"All-nighter... work... exhausted..."
"What’s this act? It’s me—Jang Yi-seo!"
He shook Zhuge Gyu-ryong, who twitched his shoulder dismissively. Jang Yi-seo stepped back, baffled.
Is he avoiding me? After seven years as a patron?
Annoyed, he slammed a horseshoe-shaped silver ingot onto the table—worth 40-50 taels.
"Scram..."
"Really?" Tsk. He added another.
"Scram... hmm..."
Zhuge Gyu-ryong’s eyelid flickered.
"Last chance," Jang Yi-seo said coldly, dropping a third ingot. Clink!
A moment passed.
Swish. A wrinkled hand swept the silver into a pocket.
Pfft! Like a dog abandoning its bone.
#Just Moving Forward (3)
