Camellia 13

The third young master of the Murong clan hated Seolyeong to the point it made his skin crawl. Since no normal person could possibly harbor goodwill toward a blood fiend, Seolyeong found the reaction reasonable. It was the First Young Master, who treated him like an old friend, that had the unusual temperament. Even at a young age, Seolyeong had understood that no one else would treat him as generously as that man did. And he had also learned early on that confronting those who hated him would only work against him.

It was smarter to go a step further and let them wear themselves out.

He called it the “One Spoon More” strategy.

Seolyeong intended to use it again today. If the sect leader claimed he didn’t remember anything, Seolyeong planned to throw off his clothes and reenact what had happened at dawn.

But for some reason, the sect leader only chuckled.

“You seem to have a sharp memory, bride-to-be. How about a walk together?”

He didn’t raise his voice or shoot a sharp glare. Instead, he nodded calmly as if acknowledging the truth. His demeanor was relaxed, even cheerful.

A walk?

Startled by the out-of-the-blue suggestion, Seolyeong asked, “Excuse me?”

“This is the only place where flowers bloom. I heard you like flowers.”

The sect leader answered gently. Seolyeong was taken aback.

“You summoned me to show me flowers?”

“Right. As an apology for making you come all the way to Yeonhu alone.”

What happened to the brute who had threatened a sea of blood if the Camellias of the North weren’t sent to the Cheonma Divine Sect? The Demon who had slaughtered tens of thousands of warriors, the martial world’s enemy, Sahyeol Amje, was now unbelievably affectionate.

Seolyeong’s jaw dropped.

The Madu perhaps thought that his explanation wasn’t enough, he added softly, “I hope you understand. One of our sect’s rules is not to bring outsiders into the main mountain. So I had no choice but to let you travel alone. And sending my subordinates to escort you… I doubt the Murim Alliance would have taken kindly to that.”

Seolyeong had expected either a verbal clash or a physical fight, but what he got instead was kindness, which made it hard to keep up with the turn of events.

Could this man, who showed not a trace of killing intent, truly be the leader of the Demonic Sect?

Once again, Seolyeong’s emotions grew unsettled. Nothing about this man’s words or behavior seemed even remotely related to the Demonic Sect. He looked dignified and striking. Even his plain black robe looked like something straight out of a silk merchant’s finest collection when worn by him.

But now Seolyeong found himself distracted by another thought: what animal was embroidered on the sect leader’s robe?

It looked like a wolf, perhaps…

As he fell into pointless thoughts, Seolyeong suddenly recalled the warnings given by Nabisalsoo.

Never speak in front of the Supreme One. Only respond with nods. Don’t look him in the eyes. Don’t show strong emotion.

But Seolyeong had spoken freely, answered however he pleased, looked the man in the eye, and even showed facial expressions.

At this point, it would be more foolish not to suspect the man’s identity.

Seolyeong boldly opened his mouth.

“If you truly are my husband, then show me proof.”

“……”

“What if someone from your sect, who dislikes me, used sorcery to get close?”

Seolyeong was skilled enough to see through most illusion and transformation techniques, but if the opponent was a master of the same realm, he couldn’t be sure.

If the man refused, Seolyeong had even considered groping his body to check. But the sect leader was faster. He whistled, and a harsh wind blew through, scattering flower petals through the air. Had that been all, Seolyeong wouldn’t have been surprised.

The moment their eyes met, the sect leader lifted a hand to his mouth and exhaled softly. Then, as if grasping the breath itself, he cupped his hands and flung it toward a magnolia tree.

The falling petals instantly froze midair.

For the first time in his life, Seolyeong felt awe at someone’s martial prowess. Not even watching martial arts competitions had left such an impression.

This man was an absolute master in a realm far beyond reach. The one hailed as the greatest under the heavens had been waiting for him in Sipman Daesan all along.

Snow blanketed Yeonhu Mountain so thickly that everything seemed white. Ice petals dropped to the ground around Seolyeong’s feet. Clear crystals wrapped around violet petals, making them look even more fragile.

The character formed by the frozen petals was unmistakable.

瑞.¹

“I heard you had no surname, so I wanted to give you a character.”

Seolyeong’s heart pounded hard. He tried to calm his breathing, but the fluttering feeling refused to settle. His body burned as though his inner meridians had been forced open. Suddenly, he understood why the sect leader introduced himself as a god to the martial world.

It wasn’t arrogance that led him to call himself ‘Cheonsin.’ It was simply the truth.

Sahyeol Amje stepped forward.

“Just as names can be chosen, surnames can too. I’d like to call you Seo Seolyeong from now on. Will you allow it?”

His gaze was gentle. No hostility. No suspicion.

Seolyeong also took a step closer. In cheap love stories from the marketplace, this would be the moment when the man and woman kissed. In this case, both characters were men, one the demonic sect leader who turned the martial world upside down, and the other a fanatical bride.

Just then, Seolyeong’s eyes went wide as he examined the sect leader.

True to the rumors of his madness, he asked with gleaming eyes, “Where did you learn your illusion technique?”

He placed a hand on the man’s cheek and gasped in admiration.

The questions poured out.

“Realistic illusions like this are only recorded in the Saseogyeong of the Demonic Arts. Does the text still exist in your sect, despite rumors it was destroyed?”

“……”

“Did you refine the Saseogyeong yourself?”

The skin he touched was smooth. The curve of the ear, the cartilage, it all felt too real. Each strand of hair seemed delicately crafted, and anyone unaware would think this was a real person.

As far as Seolyeong knew, only the Saseogyeong described illusions of this level. Even among the former Cheonma Divine Sect, hardly anyone had mastered it.

Unless it involved poisoning someone into hallucination, a technique this vivid was unmistakably a type of demonic martial art.

The sect leader’s eyes turned cold.

The warm, smiling man vanished. Only the demon who had threatened Yonyeong remained, he gripped Seolyeong’s hand tightly.

The pale fingers that had been touching the sect leader’s cheek froze.

The man who had discarded his smile asked, “Clever. How did you know it was an illusion?”

Seolyeong was flustered, he tried to calm his hammering heart.

The man who surpassed him in martial skill, the one known as the greatest under heaven, was none other than Sahyeol Amje, his husband and the martial world’s sworn enemy.

Regardless of his resentment toward the Cheonma Divine Sect, Seolyeong had no desire to belittle the man’s skill just because he was a ‘demonic being.’

Poison and demonic arts were said to corrode one’s pure Qi, damaging mind and body. But if they could make someone this powerful… Seolyeong couldn’t help but want to study them, even if it was just once. For research purposes, of course.

He grabbed the sect leader’s hand, unfurled each finger, and answered.

“There were no fingerprints.”

The illusion had failed to recreate the lines beneath the fingers. Despite vividly rendering the veins and blood flow on the back of the hand, it had overlooked this one detail.

Seolyeong asked calmly, “Did you simply forget fingerprints existed, or did you decide they weren’t worth replicating?”

The answer came with a shattering sound as the illusion burst apart into fragments.

“The latter. No sane person would check someone’s fingerprints, you lunatic.”

1. (Auspicious) rui in hanja and Seo in hangul ↩︎