Most sects with long histories had powerful elders’ councils, and the Blood Sect was no exception.
Unless a matter was directly tied to the sect’s interests, the Sect Leader’s authority carried little weight.
— Life is already wretched enough for both you and me. At the very least, our conduct should be joyful.
The teachings of the Assassins’ Creed.
Those words resonated deeply with young Geum Seon-hwi. They helped him endure the grueling training imposed by his elder half-brother, Geum Jon-hwi, and his father, the Lord of the Blood Sect.
They also made things easier when he occasionally saw his mother.
Seon-hwi’s mother was of lowly birth. A commoner despised by the elders of the Blood Sect.
Her background and martial prowess were insignificant. She made a meager living as a small-time merchant in the marketplace.
— The Lord of the Blood Sect’s son cannot be left to rot in the city.
The elders took her child away.
From the moment Seon-hwi took his first steps, he was reduced to seeing his mother once every two months. She found joy in nothing more than hearing her son recite verses from The Book of Songs.
‘Then I must memorize all of the Four Books and Five Classics.’
That was what young Seon-hwi thought. His mother delighted in hearing her son’s scholarly recitations.
So, the boy protected his mother with his cheerfulness.
Even when he found her collapsed in the crowd one day, he rushed to embrace her, smiling through his tears.
His honed senses had already told him the truth. Perhaps because he was born an assassin, he accepted death for what it was and wished only for her passing to be peaceful.
He smiled so that the last thing she saw of him wouldn’t be a miserable, weeping face.
It had been a warm, sunny day.
— Live a worthy life, my child. You were born noble.
His mother spoke, holding on until her son arrived.
He never understood whether she meant that his status was noble or that she cherished him.
There was no chance to ask.
She died the moment she finished speaking.
He later found out it had been an accident.
Some lowlife from the Underworld had kicked over her stall, demanding tribute money. A stray ornament had flown into her eye.
It had been a hairpin—a gift young Seon-hwi had personally sharpened and polished using the Blood Sect’s techniques.
“This is it.”
The slender hairpin spun between Hyeon Won-chang’s fingers. The tip was copper-colored and bore no ornamentation.
At first glance, it looked more like the long needles used by physicians.
Whoooosh—
A ghostly wind howled through the room.
The space was almost a sealed chamber. The bed, the chairs—everything was made of old stone.
“It was an accident?”
Lying on the table with one foot propped up, Tae Yeom-ryong lazily repeated the words. On one of the beds, Shin So-bin’s frail body lay still, her breathing deep and steady.
With every slow inhale, the surrounding air trembled.
“A common street thug’s kick just happened to carry Force Transmission? Does that make any sense?”
“It was the doing of Geum Yeon-sang, an elder of the Blood Sect. He orchestrated the entire thing on the day I was to visit my mother. He wanted to test whether the Lord of the Blood Sect’s bastard son had developed the ruthless disposition befitting an assassin. If I had potential, I would react with cold calculation.”
“What did you do?”
“I hunted down that Underworld thug first. Used my fingers to gouge out his eyes. The sensation wasn’t particularly enjoyable. In hindsight, I wondered if it was because I had failed to kill the true culprit. So...”
Won-chang’s hand clenched slightly around the hairpin as he continued in a slow, measured tone.
Neither man looked at the other as they spoke.
“...I shoved my middle finger into Geum Yeon-sang’s eye socket.”
“Your middle finger?”
“It’s called The Mountain Gesture—a calculated insult. In the southeastern regions, they call it ‘squid-poking’. In the Western lands, it carries a similar meaning. It has quite the history. I take it you noble families don’t bother with such street wisdom?”
“You talk like your tongue was raised in the gutter, yet you came from nobility too. So, an elder of the Blood Sect fell to some brat’s crude hand gesture?”
“I had ingested a few drops of diluted Skyfire Oil beforehand. There were no internal energy restrictions, so a single ambush strike was all it took. At the time, I was already acknowledged as someone capable of executing a flawless first strike. That old man never expected a submissive brat to suddenly go berserk. I simply seized the opening.”
“So, young Geum Seon-hwi was stronger than the Grand Snowblade Hyeon Won-chang?”
“In a single exchange, perhaps. My body couldn’t withstand the backlash of force transmission, so I was left crippled afterward. But I still took that crazy old man’s eye. Three months of convalescence was the price.”
“Hmm...? I recall one of your elders missing an eye.”
“That would be him.”
Won-chang replied, and Tae Yeom-ryong tilted his head.
“Why is he still alive? He murdered the direct descendant’s ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ mother.”
“The Blood Sect originated as the Gatekeepers of the Celestial Demon Hall. Common sense does not apply. Instead, I was the one punished for harming an esteemed figure within the sect. So was my brother, Geum Jon-hwi.”
“Geum Jon-hwi? Why your half-brother?”
“He was already furious long before I struck Geum Yeon-sang. And when the old man retaliated against me, my brother returned it at full force. So, both of us received six months of isolation training as punishment.”
“What a fucking ridiculous mess. What did your Lord Father do?”
“You don’t have to speak of him with such reverence. He was the Lord of the Blood Sect, through and through. He had long abandoned my mother, a woman the sect never acknowledged. To him, the son was precious, but the woman he slept with was nothing but an outsider.”
“What a fucking moron.”
The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.
“I agree.”
“What’s the reason you’re still attached to this sect?”
“...I never liked it. Jon-hwi hyung just treated me well. Even my father showed affection to his son.”
“I figured as much. You’ve looked like shit ever since you heard the mission site was Shanxi.”
Tae Yeom-ryong lazily shook his head, flicking his foot a few times.
“Grand Snowblade, Grand Snowblade... I finally understand why you’ve lost your usual humor ever since setting foot in Shanxi. The one thing that kept you going, the thing that let you guide the young Lord, was that very disposition. So, what role remains for you in the Radiant Shadow?”
His old-fashioned way of speaking carried an unmistakable provocation, his tone dragging on in its usual languid manner.
“I’ve been watching that bastard Salhyup closely. He wants to keep you here. At first, you dismissed the idea outright, but after experiencing Mo Yong Clan’s Thousand Silk Snare, your expression changed. And that bastard Salhyup is suspiciously accommodating.”
“Ridiculous. My existence would only disrupt the Blood Sect’s line of succession.”
Hyeon Won-chang’s eyes sharpened, but Tae Yeom-ryong paid him no mind.
“There were only two people I could call true friends. One of them played at being a king with his sword. If I mixed him with you, I’d get that bastard Geum Jon-hwi. Too damn generous. A man who genuinely cares for his younger brother wouldn’t be shackled by the struggle for succession.”
“......”
“I don’t know how much of your past lingers in this godforsaken land.”
A deeper shadow fell over Tae Yeom-ryong’s hollow, sunken eyes. His gaze narrowed slightly.
“You’re aware that the young Lord leans on you quite a bit. Your martial prowess isn’t much help, so if you lose even your sharp tongue and loyalty, what use are you? Think carefully.”
“A pointless concern.”
“We’ll see. To me, that bastard Salhyup is more dangerous than those senile old fools. And you, Hyeon Won-chang of Ipwang, are becoming soft. From what I’ve observed, those revered as righteous heroes in Jianghu always get swept away and die an unremarkable death.”
“You better hope my seventh restriction doesn’t get lifted anytime soon. Once it does, you won’t be able to run your mouth so easily.”
Tae Yeom-ryong didn’t respond. He merely smirked, resting his hands behind his head.
Hyeon Won-chang stared at him for a moment before slowly speaking.
“Right now, how much of your full strength do you have?”
“About thirty percent, give or take. That Mo Yong Clan’s Thousand Silk Snare wasn’t ordinary.”
Tae Yeom-ryong replied indifferently.
They had barely entered Taiyuan before all hell broke loose.
First, they witnessed over a hundred martial artists moving openly. Men concealed beneath human-faced masks and disguises, deliberately hiding their identities.
The Local Bureau and the Military were nowhere to be seen. Instead, these masked elites launched an attack on their group.
Tae Yeom-ryong immediately deduced their origins.
Having grown up treating the Orthodox Wulin Gatherings as mere entertainment, he had an eye for these things.
He saw through the distinct illusory swordplay unique to the Mo Yong Clan in an instant. Even if they tried to conceal it, his Sunfire Bloodline’s keen perception would never miss it.
But their attackers didn’t care.
As long as their identities weren’t officially exposed, they fought without hesitation.
They were a force of elite swordsmen, rarely seen in Jianghu. The Radiant Shadow and Blood Sect warriors were naturally scattered.
Three members of the Radiant Shadow were separated—it had been a deliberate maneuver.
But Tae Yeom-ryong single-handedly slaughtered nearly twenty of them and regrouped with his allies.
During the chaos, he had even clashed with Mo Yong Clan’s second-strongest swordsman, the Grand Ritual Blade, Mo Yong Gi-hwang.
He had nearly died.
When he faced the Falling Stars Over Heaven sword technique, he had genuinely come close to death.
The Grand Ritual Blade was always ranked among the top martial enforcers of the Eight Great Clans, and Mo Yong Clan’s swordsmanship—refined in the harsh frontier—was as beautiful as it was deadly.
Had he not countered with Radiant Inferno using sheer luck, his entire body would have been torn to pieces.
“It was a damn blessing that old bastard got distracted by a message falcon at the last second. I almost died young.”
The so-called fated-to-die noble chuckled bitterly, then shifted his gaze.
His eyes landed on Shin So-bin, who remained deep in slumber from the severe depletion of her inner energy.
“How long do you think she’ll be out?”
“You think a lowly man’s judgment surpasses a master’s? Even Hwangbo Courtesan wouldn’t know, so don’t ask me.”
“Get your restrictions lifted and face me properly. The Mo Yong bastards could find this place at any moment. No matter how well hidden the Blood Sect’s inner sanctum is... they got caught once during the Celestial Demon Hall Rebellion, didn’t they?”
“I was planning to leave soon anyway. This is the final trial. Once I earn the elders’ approval, all the martial formulas I’ve gathered will finally come together as a single key.”
“Good luck.”
Tae Yeom-ryong casually dismissed him, closing his eyes.
Hyeon Won-chang didn’t reply. He simply stood up.
His gaze drifted between Shin So-bin and Tae Yeom-ryong, then—without another word—he quietly turned and left the room.
***
The great city was steeped in silence.
It was a place where sword-wielding transcendents roamed freely while the government offices remained eerily quiet.
In such an alien atmosphere, there were few commoners who could carry on with their daily lives without concern. Most of them merely prayed for the military and Ipwang's swordsmen to intervene.
The gates dividing the inner and outer areas of Taiyuan Prefecture were equally bleak.
Few people came and went.
Only horses, carriages, merchants, and escorts passed through.
From atop the roof of a towering pavilion, where everything below could be observed at a glance, the streets appeared even more deserted.
“You look much better now. I see the imperial dogs treated you well.”
The voice was unbearably soft—so delicate that the word gentle hardly did it justice.
“I’m still curious. Since all your secret channels were severed, you must have been forced to open the scroll yourself... Did they summon a sorcerer of unparalleled mastery?”
The speaker was a one-eyed crone, her entire body shrouded in a black cloak of bloodstained silk.
She was Bamboo Sword, Geum Yeon-sang, an elder of the Blood Sect and the one presiding over Hyeon Won-chang’s final trial.
“Proceed with the trial.”
Hyeon Won-chang spoke, sensing the presence of the other Blood Sect elders scattered around.
At this very moment, Mo Yong Clan’s hidden forces had infiltrated the area.
Some had suggested delaying the trial due to unfavorable circumstances, but Salhyup, Geum Jon-hwi, had insisted on going forward.
“Very well, then.”
Geum Yeon-sang’s wrinkled features softened into a delicate curve.
As a Blood Sect elder, the Bamboo Sword rarely revealed her thoughts.
Even when young Geum Seon-hwi had confronted her about his mother’s death, even when the boy had gouged out one of her eyes, she had reacted calmly and decisively.
And she was no different now.
“All you have to do is imitate my kill exactly as I do it. Not a single movement can be out of place.”
Her tone, strangely warm, carried a trace of unsettling kindness.
“You mean... you’ll demonstrate first?”
“Yes, wait here. This is a one-of-a-kind tradition of our sect, so even our vice-lord cannot object.”
She was telling him to watch how she killed a person and reproduce it flawlessly.
For a moment, Hyeon Won-chang’s hand flinched near his Ipwang Sword at his waist.
‘This old hag really intends to...’
Geum Yeon-sang seemed to sense his hesitation, smirking slightly.
She made no immediate move.
Was she trying to establish her authority as an elder?
She stood there, utterly motionless, seemingly searching for the perfect victim—as if performing a spectral hunting ritual.
Time passed.
She simply stood still, gazing down at the city gates, unmoving as a statue.
The moon set, and the sun began to rise, yet she remained rooted in place, watching.
A long time passed.
Hyeon Won-chang stayed beside her, watching.
If she chose an innocent person, he would shatter this entire trial without hesitation.
Then, just as the morning light broke over the horizon...
“That one’s posture is quite decent. I’ll take him.”
The crone’s gnarled finger pointed far into the distance.
It was someone who had just passed through the gates—one of three travelers.
Among them, one figure stood out, drawing the wary gazes of those in the near-empty street.
A young man whose every step was perfectly measured, each stride identical in length.
His jet-black hair caught the golden light, flowing down to his shoulder blades.
Draped in an unadorned black robe, his presence radiated an odd sense of dominance.
Yet, because he exhibited no discernible martial aura, he merely appeared noble by birth.
Snap!
At that moment, Geum Yeon-sang vanished.
“Watch carefully and remain still.”
Her whispering voice lingered like a fading mist.
Hyeon Won-chang stood motionless, just as she had ordered.