Camellia 146

It was the moment Sahyeol Amje began his assault on the martial world that Seolyeong, who had once cried in sorrow like a bird robbed of its nest, finally rose to his feet, wiping his eyes.

The man raised as a killer began to massacre the warriors of the martial world. Screams echoed from every corner, but Seolyeong, no longer a part of that past, could do nothing to help them. He ran toward the battlefield, where corpses were piling up like walls, closed his swollen eyes for a moment, and opened them again.

Warriors who had accepted death brushed past him. Every one of them carried a weapon, yet all died without completing even a single sword form.

The Thousand Years Poison.

A poison more silent than plague, it claimed lives before they realized it.

Seolyeong finally understood the true nature of the poison wielded by the sect leader.

That sweet scent at the tip of his nose. A fragrance so familiar it ached. A scent only a blood fiend like him could truly perceive.

The secret of Sahyeol Amje’s technique was not the poison, but his own blood. He had reached the peak of the martial world through endless hardship, he was now grinding his own body down for the sake of vengeance.

Seolyeong, watching his husband of the past deal with martial warriors as if they were tedious insects, murmured,

“I won’t wait for you…”

Someone had to stop that man. Someone had to stand in his way and tell him. That even if he had grown strong through resentment, if he clung to resentment alone, it would devour his soul. That even emotions praised as beautiful would lose their way if allowed to swell endlessly.

So there was no need to obsess over revenge that brought no meaning.

Sahyeol Amje had already built mountains out of corpses. Yet even then, as if unable to satisfy his hatred, he remained trapped in endless emptiness.

Perhaps it was because he never truly wanted the fall of the martial world. He was merely forcing himself to carry out a massacre, not knowing what he truly wanted, tearing apart innocents with no end in sight, unable to quench his thirst.

Seolyeong wanted to stand at the end of that loneliness, filling the core of his being.

“Hey, you mutt!”

Ziiing! At its master’s call, Seonwol-do responded at once. Its brilliant glow enveloped Jungwon, where orthodox and demonic sect clashed as one. At that same moment, the frayed net of time began to reconnect. A thunderous roar shook the heavens as they split apart.

Like Sahyeol Amje had done before, Seolyeong leapt lightly and crossed the net of time. He followed every trace his husband left behind, thinking to himself,

“Imugi, ascension, whatever it is…”

None of it frightens me, so if something wants to stop me, let it try.

The only thing I fear is the memory that drove you to the edge.

***

How much time had passed?

Running, and running again, Seolyeong finally reached a landscape whose textures he recognized. His translucent form had also returned to its proper hue.

Chasing that faint scent of poison, he wrinkled his brow as an acrid odor mingled in. The scent of death, of everything burning to ash.

The old stronghold of the Cheonma Divine Sect, Shingang.

At the place where Sahyeol Amje’s energy had led him, he saw a great hall engulfed in flames. The plaque reading “Daeyeonggak” had been shattered and now lay broken in the dirt.

Beyond the chaos of the hall, not even the smallest sound could be heard. Rushing inside, he found the place already laid to ruin. Charred corpses lay scattered across the floor. On the foreheads of the dead, as during the Marip Tragedy, the character for “heaven” had been stamped in large letters.

Another horrific bloodbath, this time inflicted upon the Cheonma Divine Sect.

Gripping Seonwol-do tightly, Seolyeong dragged the corpses that appeared less damaged outside. Though he wished he could move every body, finding Sahyeol Amje took precedence, and so he forced himself to turn away with clenched teeth.

“Yujae, please…”

He was so anxious that he slipped into informal speech without realizing it.

Sahyeol Amje’s trail pointed from Shingang to Sipman Daesan. The thought was unbearable. The main stronghold of the sect housed not just warriors but also ordinary people working as attendants. He couldn’t believe that the man who had always shown such tenderness to women would unleash fire even upon Yeonhu Mountain.

But as the stench of burning grew stronger, Seolyeong let go of that last hope. Instead, he moved faster. To the eyes of the common people, his form was nothing more than a fleeting gust of wind.

Along the way, he met a peregrine falcon that had come seeking him and gratefully accepted its help. Rather than drag him by the scruff, the mystical creature lent him its feet. Seolyeong arrived at the gates of the Yurigung and leapt down onto the imugi statue.

“I won’t forget this debt, little one!”

The peregrine falcon, seemingly insulted by being called “little one,” let out a frustrated cry. But Seolyeong paid it no mind and rushed inside.

Soon, the burning halls came into view. It was too early to say for certain, but the absence of bodies suggested the sect members had at least managed to flee. Just then,

–Ah, Gyo-mo-nim!

A piercing voice struck his ears. It was Sa Yeoho, Lord of Geukmunggak, sending a desperate message upon sensing the blood fiend’s energy nearby.

–I’m overjoyed and grateful for your arrival, but with things as they are, let’s skip the greetings. If you’ve come to save the sect, then please, go to Suido Peak at once–wait! Sahyeol Amje… he’s listening… cough!

The message ended with a coughing sound. But now that he knew to head for Suido Peak, Seolyeong did not hesitate.

He had a rough idea why Sahyeol Amje was burning the sect. The Lord of the Daeyeonggak had orchestrated the fall of the Tang clan for the sect’s rebirth. Surely, he wanted him to witness the destruction of the very institution he had betrayed them for.

But understanding him with the mind and understanding him with the heart were two entirely different things.

Sipman Daesan housed not only Yeonhu Mountain, the main seat of the sect, but nearby Chiljeong Mountain as well, where many civilians who did not practice martial arts lived. Even when the Northern Sea Ice Palace delegation had visited the Yurigung, the attendants had temporarily relocated there.

“How can someone dying of yin energy be good at handling fire?”

Whether Sahyeol Amje heard him or not, Seolyeong shouted anyway. A dragon-shaped blaze opened its jaws to attack.

Teeth gritted, Seolyeong glared up. “If you think this will make me back down…” He raised his sword and invoked Fire Dragon Sword.

“Dragons should fight dragons! Stay out of a couple’s quarrel!”

Cheering on his summoned fire dragon, he quickly dodged back. His flame-born beast roared, rivaling Sahyeol Amje’s in size.

The overwhelming yang energy dyed the world in heat. Any other being would have collapsed. Only a blood fiend could endure such intensity.

Seolyeong had never been more grateful to have been born a monster.

At last, atop Suido Peak with the Yurigung in full view.

“Hey, Tang Yujae!”

He had planned to persuade him with words, but that quickly failed.

“If you’ve got a shred of conscience, take this hit!”

Before he knew it, Seolyeong was unleashing a sword form. A strike filled with immense force shattered the air. The moment he saw his husband’s face, his long-buried frustration exploded.

The energy released from his sword warped the air, but Tang Yujae blocked it easily with a thin barrier of Qi.

Landing on the ground with a thud, Seolyeong saw the back of his husband, standing at the edge of a cliff, and muttered,

“Are you planning to throw yourself off?”

Stubborn, insufferable, selfish, and now dramatic too.

“If the imugi or whatever is supposed to ascend, don’t all your limbs need to be intact? If you fall to your death, it won’t even be able to use your precious body. If it was a promise you could break, then why did you keep making excuses about that damned thing to me..!”

His words broke off. Seolyeong stared more closely at the precarious figure.

The color of the hair. The width of the shoulders. The glimpse of the ankle.

That was how he noticed just in time.

“…You bastard. Another illusion.”

His underhanded husband wasn’t even here.