CH 35
#The Beginning of Cultivation (3)
“Clean yourself.”
A woman in her thirties, her face thickly powdered, approached Sa Do-cheol—whose hands and face were smeared with blood—and respectfully offered a handkerchief.
She was Seol Wol, also known as Geum Hwa-bin: third-in-command of the Slaughterhouse and proprietor of the Seokhwaru Pavilion.
Sa Do-cheol wiped his hands without glancing at her before returning to his seat.
“But hyung, if you were gonna turn that bastard into pulp anyway, why stop me when I tried to step in? Just thinking about it pisses me off again.”
Sa Ho-jeong, his younger brother, crossed his legs and scowled. Sa Do-cheol fixed him with a predator’s glare and replied:
“Quiet. Prepare.”
“Prepare what?”
“Our deal with the Iron Horse Bandits is soon. If you want the goods intact, ensure everything’s ready.”
“Ugh, those barbarian mutts? Can’t you go? They reek like fucking dirt. Makes me wanna puke.”
“Sa Ho-jeong.”
“Fuck! Fine! I’ll meet the bastards, hand over the money, and bring back the Unmarried Mountain. Happy?”
Sa Ho-jeong grumbled, turning his head away. Sa Do-cheol then addressed Ma Yi-sin:
“Handling Jang Yi-seo discreetly won’t be possible.”
His tone held no apology—only a warning. A heads-up that chaos was coming, and cleanup would be required.
Ma Yi-sin snorted, scooped a handful of Unmarried Mountain from the table, and dumped it into his mouth without breaking eye contact.
“Just make it thorough.”
Approval given. Sa Do-cheol nodded once.
Jang Yi-seo had crossed the line. Losing two executives was unprecedented—a humiliation demanding bloody redress.
Sa Do-cheol turned to Seol Wol, who stood smiling before him.
“Mobilize everyone. I’ll lead the hunt myself.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Target: Wolha Village.”
His order fell like a hammer.
“Deadline: when every last trace of them is ash.”
Ma Yi-sin roared with laughter. Sa Ho-jeong whined about joining. Seol Wol beamed and bowed.
“Preparations will begin.”
Sa Do-cheol, Slaughterhouse’s leader, had taken the field.
Unaware of the noose tightening around them, Wolha Village erupted in cheers.
“Brotheeeeeer—!”
Yong-tae, Black Dragon Faction’s leader, bounded forward, arms windmilling.
“We’ve waited ages!”
Mae-gi and the faction members chorused greetings behind him.
“Welcome back.”
Even Chwi Hong-ran offered a demure bow.
All welcomed the two returnees: Seventh Prince Mao, emerging golden and triumphant from the Heavenly Demon Hall, and his aide Jang Yi-seo.
“Ahhh, home sweet home! That bamboo forest? Smells like me. Perfect.”
Mao smirked at the crowd spilling from Seven Star Palace to Moonlight Lake. His tall frame and rugged features—now accentuated by the Dragon Spear slung over his shoulder—cut a dashing figure.
Yong-tae and Mae-gi gaped at the weapon.
“Seventh Prince! Is that… could it be…?”
“Yes! That’s the one!”
Idiots. They need everything spelled out. Mao rubbed his philtrum.
“Not ‘that.’ The Dragon. Spear. A divine relic bestowed by the Sect Leader himself, you morons.”
“The Dragon Spear! The one you pawned at the gambling den!”
“…Mae-gi. You’ve been sitting on that joke, haven’t you?”
“Eep! Busted!”
“Get over here. I’ll show you why it’s divine.”
“Yikes!”
Mao and Mae-gi scampered like children, kicking up dust. Jang Yi-seo shook his head.
“Where’s Elder Zhuge?” he asked Chwi Hong-ran.
Yong-tae chuckled in response:
“Vanished without a word. Worked with him? Man’s a lunatic. Screams like a demon. At my age!”
Typical. No ordinary elder.
Yet reliable where it counted.
“The Seven Star Palace?”
Jang Yi-seo’s eyes sharpened.
“You’ll be stunned. But… you’re really living there?” Yong-tae asked nervously.
“You’ve done well.”
Jang Yi-seo nodded and strode toward the bamboo forest. Yong-tae flushed, hesitating before murmuring:
“It was brutal… But seeing results so fast? Weirdly satisfying. So… maybe teach us proper work sometime?”
Jang Yi-seo smirked. The Black Dragon Faction—once mere thugs—now sweated honestly. Not bad. Understanding purpose changed lives.
“We’ll discuss it later.”
“Thank you, brother!”
Yong-tae and crew bowed, grinning. Zhuge Gwiryong—cranky but competent. Learning from him would help.
As they walked, the reborn Seven Star Palace emerged through the bamboo.
Once a crumbling wreck, now—
“What the hell is this?”
Mao blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes.
The walls stood thrice as thick and high enough to strain necks. Rough from haste, but undeniably regal.
“Incredible! But… where’s the gate?”
Only a narrow path marked the entrance—no gate in sight.
"Even so, it won’t be easy to get in."
Yongtae said with a confident smile.
"Why wouldn't it be? Even a stray mutt passing by could waltz right in."
Mao snorted and strode forward. Wait, hold on! Yongtae and Maegi lunged to grab him, but they were too late.
Mao was a hotheaded fool. He stepped into the passage before anyone could stop him.
Then—
Whoosh! Thwack!
"Ugh!"
A pitch-black iron rod shot from the left wall, smacking Mao square across the cheek.
He crumpled to the floor like a sack of rice.
Dazed and indignant, he looked up just in time to see the rod slither back into the wall.
"What kind of bullshit is this?!"
His cheek throbbed so fiercely he could barely form words, tears pooling in his eyes.
"Well, you see..."
Yongtae wiped his brow, hurried over, and yanked Mao back by the collar.
Jang Yi-seo watched with a satisfied grin.
"It works perfectly."
"Perfectly?!" Mao's eyes bulged.
"Perfectly my ass! Did you miss the part where I got wrecked? Look at this swollen cheek! Are you blind?!"
Jang Yi-seo shoved the whining Mao aside and stepped forward. Yongtae coughed awkwardly and explained:
"The rebuilt Chilso Palace has three new sections. First—the Gate of Fortune and Misfortune. Iron rods shoot out randomly with every step... Even Teacher Zhuge gave up and started using ladders to scale the walls."
"Bullshit! Call it the Gate of Certain Ass-Kicking!"
"Let him finish," Jang Yi-seo snapped, jerking his chin at Yongtae.
"Second—the Path of 108 Troubles. Third—the Chamber of No Rest. Both are... lethally dangerous. We've lost many disciples there already."
"You expect me to survive that?!"
"Survival is how you'll grow stronger."
Martial arts isn't just about cultivating energy or memorizing techniques. When skill levels are close, victory hinges on instinct.
Even masters die the instant they lower their guard in this world.
But Mao? He hadn't mastered basic martial arts, let alone developed instincts. Half-hearted training wouldn't let him catch up to his brothers. He needed brutal pressure.
Hence the rebuilt Chilso Palace.
To steep life in constant peril.
Just as Jang Yi-seo had learned in the shadows.
"Listen carefully."
Jang Yi-seo's eyes burned.
"If you want to live another month, endure this hell."
"Jang Yi-seo—!"
"You will endure."
Jang Yi-seo turned away.
One month remained.
He had to survive.
For Chil Gongja. For himself.
After farewells at Chilso Palace, Yongtae and Maegi departed.
"We'll take our leave."
"Honestly, we need proper rest for once."
As the Black Dragon Faction members left, the compound quieted. Jang Yi-seo exhaled softly—it finally felt like home.
Chwi Hong-ran approached cautiously.
"Are you unwell? Your face..."
She'd observed him for years. Though naturally grim, he'd always carried a sly spark in his eyes and a ghost of a smile. Now? Pure menace radiated from him.
"...It's nothing."
"Nothing? You look like death warmed over!"
When Chwi Hong-ran gasped, Mao jutted out his lip.
"Father ordered me to dodge his sword wind! How the hell?!"
"Ah..."
Chwi Hong-ran covered her mouth. But...
'This isn't about Mao. Master looks... terrifying.'
She was right.
Jang Yi-seo's condition far exceeded surface appearances.
The Heavenly Demon's energy was corroding his mind.
Demonic energy earns its name—it warps nature to destroy the body. Jang Yi-seo hosted the supreme variant, leaking ceaselessly from his damaged dantian.
Madness was inevitable.
