Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 87 - The Devil's Disciple

Chapter 87 – The Devil’s Disciple

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Translated by Heavenly Cat

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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Cheong-jin read the malice in Heuk-wol’s eyes.

But he wasn’t in a position to restrain her at the moment.

For one thing, Ju-seong… a fighter comparable to himself… seemed to have personal sympathy for Heuk-wol.

Moreover, the fact that the child had been abused within Qingcheng’s domain also confused him.

That child was actually from a branch family of the Mok Family Manor. Once his martial talent was discovered, he was adopted as the family head’s son.

Since he was not their own blood, they had pushed him quite ruthlessly. Little did they know that when the child grew up, all that abuse would come back in double measure.

‘How could they bear to treat him so harshly when he bore Qingcheng’s name…’

Cheong-jin wore a heavy expression as he fiddled with his chopsticks.

Meanwhile, the Mok Family Manor martial artist killed by Heuk-wol had been a disciple of Qingcheng’s main mountain.

About ten years ago, he had been demoted to a lay clan as a retainer after being involved in an unsavory incident.

That unsavory incident’s victim was the woman before him now.

‘I’m not a Buddhist, but I can only say the entanglements of fate are truly vicious.’

On the other hand, Ok-wol seemed eager to speak to Heuk-wol, but Heuk-wol wouldn’t let her near.

-Clap!

Ju-seong raised his hand and clapped.

“Now… Everyone seems to be in a complicated frame of mind. First, Heuk-wol. Don’t you have no more business in Sichuan? Emei and Qingcheng are already in full-scale war, fighting each other.”

“…”

“Is there something more you want to add? The mutual destruction of the two sects you wished for is already half-achieved. If your hatred is too deep to be satisfied with this…”

Ju-seong raised his index finger and rudely pointed at Heuk-wol.

“Continue your revenge some other time after resting. Go back, sleep well, eat well… Yes, and take Mok Yeo-woon with you while you’re at it. Wouldn’t that be one more loss for Qingcheng Sect?”

Cheong-jin nearly shot up from his seat in outrage.

“Young Hero! What are you…!”

Ju-seong’s finger swiveled and pointed squarely at Cheong-jin.

“As you know, Qingcheng is one of the two pillars supporting Sichuan Province. Qingcheng Mountain is called a sacred mountain of Taoism. In terms of historical cultivation by immortals, it predates even Wudang Mountain. I’ve heard the martial artists who inherited its spirit are peerless heroes.”

“…”

Ju-seong looked directly into Cheong-jin’s eyes and spoke.

“Since Taoist Cheong-jin seems like an upright and honest person, I’ll speak frankly… I’m honestly disappointed. What kind of embarrassing situation is this? As a man of the jianghu myself, I used to hold Qingcheng Sect in high esteem.”

Ju-seong spoke with respect.

Even if Qingcheng was currently doing some underhanded things, that didn’t erase the heroes they had produced throughout their long history.

Rather, Cheong-jin felt even more ashamed at Ju-seong’s attitude.

“And yet, when I look under the surface… my word. Declaring war over a child when his death wasn’t even confirmed, and it turns out the child was being abused within Qingcheng’s territory…”

Ju-seong poured Cheong-jin a drink and continued.

“Taoist, do you really think Qingcheng has the right to take that child back?”

Cheong-jin blurted in panic.

“…Originally, we planned to bring him to the main mountain before the year ended. Had we done so, the abuse would have stopped.”

Ju-seong’s gaze turned frosty.

“I’ll give you a chance to take that back. I don’t want to be disappointed in you too, Taoist.”

Cheong-jin also realized he had misspoken and sighed.

“…The main mountain won’t accept this.”

“Then don’t tell them. Revealing that the child was alive would already damage Qingcheng’s reputation. Let’s say Young Master Mok was kidnapped and killed by the assassin. The assassin is the Cheongpung Pavilion Master, and he died at Taoist Cheong-jin’s hands.”

“Hah…”

“Taoist, you know this is the best course. I can tell just by seeing you charged out of the mountain gate to find a child whose survival wasn’t even confirmed.”

“…Let’s do that.”

Cheong-jin answered with difficulty. Heuk-wol, who had been quietly sipping her drink, realized that Ju-seong had somehow taken control of the atmosphere.

It was truly masterful.

Here sat prominent masters from both orthodox and evil major factions, yet a man of uncertain background was holding them all in the palm of his hand.

‘He’s a true hero.’

Heuk-wol raised the collar of her leather cloak and murmured to herself.

Ju-seong surveyed the room and, as if just remembering, said.

“Now, let’s go interrogate the prisoners. There should be a lot to learn from that Night Guest fellow.”

They headed to the basement of Cheongpung Pavilion where they had locked up the Assassination Curtain assassins, but the moment they opened the door, an acrid stench of blood greeted them.

Ju-seong hadn’t sensed it either.

He had been pouring most of his upper dantian’s capacity into complex deduction.

The Celestial Hearing and Celestial Nose were techniques that used the upper dantian. When he focused elsewhere, his sense of smell and hearing dropped to ordinary levels.

“…Suicide?”

“Doesn’t look like it… Probably another Night Guest came and went.”

“Ha. Without us even knowing.”

The corpses’ necks displayed perfectly smooth cross-sections.

The severed heads were neatly arranged in a row before the bodies.

“It seems we’re dealing with someone with a thing for lining things up. Are there only perverts in the Assassination Curtain?”

Ju-seong rubbed his chin and gauged the killer’s disposition.

The Night Guest they had fought at the Shancha Inn was called the “Rare Weapon Obsession,” pathologically fixated on exotic weapons.

This one seemed pathologically obsessed with keeping things straight and aligned.

The corpses’ necks showed no trace of having been cut at an angle.

Cheong-jin muttered quietly.

“In any case… It seems they aren’t confident enough to face all of us head-on.”

Ju-seong shook his head at Cheong-jin’s words.

“If the Assassination Curtain intended to fight us, they would have sent more Night Guests. It seems they intend to withdraw from Sichuan and stop their scheming here.”

Ju-seong quickly gauged their intentions.

‘By now, the Vajra Pavilion Master’s death must have been confirmed to the Ten Thousand Ears Gang. And that I know his secrets… And that I survived the drowning.’

From the Ten Thousand Ears Gang’s perspective, the best course was to kill Ju-seong quickly to silence him.

The problem was that Ju-seong had already told his party about the Gang’s dark secrets.

They were disciples of Qingcheng and Emei’s main mountains.

Trying to silence them as well risked turning the Ten Thousand Ears Gang and Assassination Curtain into public enemies of the orthodox world overnight.

They seemed to have chosen instead to withdraw all Ten Thousand Ears Gang branches from Sichuan at once and erase all traces of the horrific deeds they had committed.

No matter how loudly Ju-seong raised his voice, he wasn’t a disciple of a major sect nor did he have solid evidence.

“For now… Let’s return to our respective sects. The war between Emei and Qingcheng must be stopped. Taoist Cheong-jin, please make it clearly known that the assassin who kidnapped the child was not Emei Sect but the Ten Thousand Ears Gang.”

“Understood. Though I don’t know if the elders will listen to me.”

Ju-seong turned his head and spoke to Heuk-wol as well.

“Heuk-wol, take Young Master Mok with you and return as well… As for the Emei ladies, let’s go back together. Since the sect leader apparently took this pill, we should check if anything is amiss.”

Ok-wol and Yang So-so nodded in agreement.

Ju-seong sighed softly and looked around.

These were people he had formed connections with over the past few days.

Thinking of the Ten Thousand Ears Gang’s grand scheme made them all seem like insignificant creatures struggling in a vast torrent of fate.

But this was not a healthy thought.

Wasn’t it the kind of perspective a governing statesman or scheming conspirator would have?

‘Get a grip.’

Ju-seong tapped his own cheeks and spoke up.

“Well then… Thank you all for your hard work. Truly peculiar connections formed in Chongqing. Heuk-wol, Cheong-jin… Having met two splendid martial artists like yourselves is truly a double blessing… a ‘Chong qing.'”

“Quite the pun.”

Heuk-wol scoffed as if incredulous.

Ju-seong smirked back at her.

“That’s right, try to smile more often.”

The martial artists each cradled unresolved issues to their chests and departed through different gates of the fortress surrounding Weizhong District.

Cheong-jin left through the north gate, Heuk-wol and Mok Yeo-woon through the east gate, and Ju-seong and the Emei party through the west gate.

It was early dawn. The darkest hour of Chongqing. The red lanterns had gone out, and the sun had yet to rise.

Ju-seong glanced back at the quietly sleeping city and murmured.

“That was quite a three days.”

* * *

In the Taklamakan Desert of Xinjiang, corpses lay scattered all around a small oasis.

A diminutive old man with a white beard looked at the scene and recalled the time he had met an old friend.

Back then, too, corpses had surrounded a green oasis.

Of course, there was a difference between then and now.

The corpses strewn about now were all withered like dried mummies without exception.

“My, how pitiful.”

The old man stared fixedly at a horse collapsed with all its legs broken, panting harshly.

Its large eyes were brimming with pain.

The old man shook his head a few times before speaking.

“Poor beast, regrettably, life is a sea of suffering. Hmm… You can’t run anymore, but you can lend me your body for a moment, can’t you? Pardon me.”

The old man sat down directly on the belly of the horse lying on its side.

The horse was gasping in agony and coughing up bloody foam, but the old man no longer seemed interested.

He watched his disciple, who was fighting the last enemy on the far side of the oasis.

“You damned fiend! How can such cruel sorcery…!”

The one screaming in horror was, astonishingly, the leader of a band of desert bandits.

For the leader of bandits who made their living from robbery and murder to invoke sorcery… this spoke to how horrifying the young man’s martial arts truly were.

Once this young man got a proper grip on a person’s body, they had to offer up all their life force and internal energy.

The young man’s savage smile grew as he charged.

The bandit chief gritted his teeth and swung his tachi horizontally.

-Sssshaak!

The young man slid forward on his knees across the sandy ground, evading the strike.

Behind him, a long trail mark kicked up yellow sand dust.

“Urk…”

The bandit chief inhaled in shock.

The young man’s hand formed a cruel shape like a raptor’s talons and lunged forward.

The moment his wrist was seized, all strength drained from his body.

When the other hand touched his lower dantian, his internal energy flow was severed and his vision went dark.

When the hand that had gripped his wrist clamped over his heart area, his sinful life flashed rapidly through his mind.

Fine wrinkles spread across his skin, which then turned dry and cracked and scattered…

His two eyes, gleaming with yellow greed, shriveled and vanished into the back of their sockets.

The young man kicked the bandit chief’s corpse as if discarding garbage, sending it tumbling into the oasis.

Nothing but death energy filled what remained… that ominous lump of flesh held not a shred of life force left to gnaw.

The fish in the oasis scattered in horror.

The young man staggered in a swaying walk around the oasis and sat cross-legged before the old man.

The old man, still seated on the now-dead horse’s carcass, spoke without sparing the young man a glance.

“Now… Remember this. You are a dark, black sea. Know that all rivers and streams, every kind of muddy and rotten water that flows into you, become the same sea.”

The devil’s disciple began his cultivation in the middle of a field of corpses.

The sun set, and the moon rose.

The old man saw the ink-black energy flickering beneath the young man’s skin and smiled with satisfaction.

‘He’s laid the foundation. The boy’s comprehension is impressive.’

Today, the young man had made one-tenth of the internal energy he had plundered into his own.

That alone was a remarkable feat. Throughout the jianghu, countless attempts had been made to steal others’ internal energy, but making plundered energy completely one’s own had been unheard of.

The old man placed his hand on the young man’s dantian and drained all the energy the disciple had failed to process.

Even this amount of internal energy meant nothing to the old man, yet he did it anyway.

The point was in the act of taking what belonged to others and making it one’s own.

The young man broke into a cold sweat and shuddered at the ghastly sensation of his internal energy being drained.

The old man straightened his back, gazed eastward, and murmured.

“Now that my disciple has set foot on solid ground… It’s time to deal with the request I’ve been putting off.”