Camellia 145

Leaving his bride behind, Tang Yujae headed for Shingang, where the Daeyeonggak stood. Of the eight pavilions that formed the foundation of the Cheonma Divine Sect, they had long since scattered across Jungwon. Among them, Shingang, once the stronghold of the old Cheonma Divine Sect, held the most.

Lord Gyo Seokryun of the Daeyeonggak was lounging inside an opium den he co-managed with the Lord of Okhaenggak, puffing leisurely on a long pipe. His wolf-like face was slack with indulgence. Around him were pots brimming with transplanted poppies. Their vivid red petals, blackened at the center, vaguely resembled camellias.

The bitter scent of refined opium mingled with the aroma of pu’er tea, Gyo Seokryun’s favorite. He had brought bundles of it even when fleeing to Haedong, and the young Yujae had once been required to prepare it before dawn each day.

The term “opium den” originally referred to addicts hiding away in caves with pipes in their mouths, but these days, they openly operated from lavish halls. The officials, too, were increasingly lost in the narcotic haze and had ceased to care who saw them.

Tang Yujae, of course, never involved himself in the business of the hall lords. Whatever trade they pursued or profit they made had never been his concern.

So his visit to the opium den today marked the first such event since the Cheonma Divine Sect had regained power.

Startled by a pressure that made no effort to conceal itself, Gyo Seokryun’s half-lidded eyes snapped open. He tensed, still holding two women young enough to be his granddaughters against his sides.

“…You two, leave us.”

Lifting the pipe from his lips, the Lord of the Daeyeonggak spoke in a faint whisper. The illusions clouding his vision could be cleared easily with a flick of his internal energy. A man of Gyo Seokryun’s level could never be wholly lost to opium. His body simply would not allow it.

When the drugged women could not walk properly, Gyo Seokryun clicked his tongue and pulled on a braided cord attached to a golden bell. Minutes after the clear chime echoed, three large men entered the chamber and led the women away.

Straightening his disheveled robes, Gyo Seokryun let out a long breath and bowed deeply.

“Ten thousand years, ten thousand years.”

The chant he had repeated for what felt like an eternity.

“This unworthy old servant pays homage to the exalted Lord who has ascended beyond the firmament.”

Tang Yujae now sat slanted against the windowsill, looking bored. The long pipe Gyo Seokryun had been using rested casually in his hand.

“You certainly live a charmed life.”

The sect leader spun the pipe slowly between his fingers as he spoke.

Gyo Seokryun answered without missing a beat, unbothered by the abrupt private audience.

“It is all thanks to the grace bestowed by the new heavens of the Cheonma Divine Sect.”

He was one of the most devoted to the sect, rivaled perhaps only by the Lord of Okhaenggak. By sheer depth of feeling, he might well be considered the foremost among them.

Because of that, the way Gyo Seokryun looked at Tang Yujae was meticulous and measured. Having given everything to one who was a god in all but name, he wished for that god to be flawless. Just as Si Pungjae longed for a sky that tilted in no direction and remained m still.

When Tang Yujae flicked the pipe away, a cup of pu’er flew toward him. Though it moved too fast to track with the eye, not a drop spilled from the bamboo cup as it landed in his hand.

Savoring the dark tea’s aroma, Tang Yujae spoke.

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

The blooming poppies instantly lost their color. Petals shriveled and dropped like they were already dead. Gyo Seokryun’s lips stiffened.

The ability to bloom even in midwinter belonged to a god. The god was angry.

“Do you believe in coincidence?”

With that short question, Gyo Seokryun understood. The ruler he had helped raise now asked him questions only after having already decided the answers.

Though he looked like a man in his thirties, within Gyo Seokryun was an old beast who had lived far too long. His fangs might have dulled, but his senses had not.

“…If this withered one may presume to answer.”

Gyo Seokryun replied with composure.

“Perhaps there is no such thing as coincidence. Only fate wearing its mask.”

His gaze slowly swept over Tang Yujae as if retracing an old memory. The once-small boy from the Sacheon Tang clan now met his eyes with a sharpened gaze.

Sensing death, Gyo Seokryun smiled faintly.

“Radiant god, may I offer a final word?”

“As many as you like.”

Surprised by the unexpectedly gentle answer, Gyo Seokryun fell silent to read his mood. Then, he spoke.

“…Even without me, the Sacheon Tang clan would have collapsed. If I am to be punished simply for hastening that collapse, then should not the heretic who joined the Cheonma Divine Sect knowing he could not keep it secret also be punished first?”

It was something one could only say at death’s door. Had there been any hope of survival, he would never have dared speak so brazenly.

“If there is one the divine should hate, it is not this old servant. It is your weak father, who saved no one, and the Murim Alliance that turned a blind eye to his crimes. Is that not the proper order?”

“…”

“If you are to claim full dominion over the martial world, then I will gladly meet death. However you choose to deliver judgment, I will not resist.”

At his shameless claim, a faint smirk appeared on Tang Yujae’s lips.

“You think I hate you?”

For someone who had served as an elder in the sect for so long, it was a naïve thought.

“What would that change now?”

Tang Yujae set the still-warm teacup on the windowsill and slowly stood. Just then, a strange wind swept in through the open window. Gyo Seokryun inhaled sharply.

This wind, neither cold nor warm…

“These days, I just want peace, once I’ve finished everything.”

It was fire-born wind.

Quickly drawing upon his inner energy, Gyo Seokryun saw it, the great inferno bearing down on the opium den. The fire now surrounding the Daeyeonggak was larger than the one that had consumed the Tang residence.

As he scrambled to his feet, Tang Yujae seized him by the throat.

“Kuh—!”

“So watch closely, and learn to hate me as much as you like.”

The fortune teller had been right.

Golden pupils flickered within Tang Yujae’s crimson eyes. Until now, he had only lightly used the yeouiju’s power. Now, the divine beast would walk in full.

Today, the Cheonma Divine Sect would fall by the hand of its master.

With a soft tearing sound, Gyo Seokryun’s neck came loose. He wheezed, face turning red.

A strangled sound burst from his lips, the kind made only when animals are butchered. His cleanly severed neck didn’t even bleed. Tang Yujae exhaled gently, using divine breath to seal the wound with a thin membrane of Qi.

Unable to die, Gyo Seokryun gaped soundlessly. He could not comprehend what had happened, and no proper words came out.

“Urgh… hhh…”

Tang Yujae casually tossed and caught him again. Then he reached into his mouth and neatly sliced off his tongue. If he died now, the coming events would be no fun at all.

While his beautiful blood fiend bride wept for the past, Tang Yujae became something truly monstrous.

–Can you endure this?

Even the imugi, watching from deep within their contract, sounded concerned.

Tang Yujae chuckled softly.

“No.”

His life was visibly draining, but he didn’t care.

“I should still have enough strength to go see that child one last time.”

Leaving behind a body now empty of soul, Tang Yujae leapt high toward the heavens.