Camellia 90

Even after boldly criticizing his husband, the fearless bride showed not a trace of hesitation. If anything, Seolyeong looked relieved.

Sahyeol Amje, who had been silent like a man in meditation, suddenly leaned in toward him. The distance between their faces vanished in an instant, and Seolyeong flinched. With the sect leader’s black eyes right in front of his nose, his throat went dry.

His mouth moved before his brain did.

“Y-You can’t…!”

There was no need to ask what he was trying to stop. Sahyeol Amje frowned and asked flatly,

“What? You think I’m about to force myself on you or something?”

Eek…! The blunt question only made things more awkward. Sure, he’d raised his voice out of pure instinct, caught in the moment. But now that he thought about it… just how hypersensitive was he, panicking over a little face-to-face proximity?

After some deep reflection, Seolyeong came to a conclusion.

Yes, maybe he was overreacting, but, no matter how you looked at it, this bastard was definitely acting weird. Like a man completely enchanted. Like someone who’d lost his damn mind over him.

Just like during the duel Peng Rang. The way Sahyeol Amje had looked at him then had already put him on edge. And that unease was eerily similar to what he’d felt when Murong Jeongui had suddenly declared his love and lost all sense of reason.

Standing with his back pressed against the wall of snow, Seolyeong glared at the man and spoke coldly.

“This is just a precautionary statement, my lord.”

Sahyeol Amje gave a lazy nod, like he was humoring him. There was something regal about the way he moved. Seolyeong was always reminded of the fallen Tang family when the sect leader struck that elegant, arrogant pose, like the toxin-bearing assassins of his clan, stepping lightly with hidden weapons under wide sleeves and hair black as ink.

“Even if the sect leader set his heart on me, I have no feelings to return. And that won’t change, even if the hatred inside me disappears. Because between you and me, there’s a vast, unmovable wall. And that wall is called ‘conscience.’ Did you know that?”

He smiled gently, like spring sunlight, then clenched his hand and opened it again to signal Seonwol-do.

“If there’s even a shred of conscience in you… you should never desire me.”

Seonwol-do responded instantly, returning to its true form and landing in his familiar palm. As the blood fiend’s yang energy warmed the cold blade, the sword trembled with resonance.

Seolyeong gripped the hilt in reverse, blade angled behind him.

“If you’ve gone out of your way to torment me, then at least hate me properly until the end.”

Crack—! The sword ripped into the wall of snow with a thunderous boom. Qi burst outward in a wave of white wind, biting cold lashing through the space. Even as the gust tore through him, Seolyeong didn’t stop. He drove the blade deeper, punching a hole into the wall Sahyeol Amje had created. Seonwol-do, thrilled to be in sync with its master again, released pulse after pulse of radiant energy.

Tang Yujar narrowed his eyes… and then casually brought the whole wall down. With a soft crashing sound, the snowstorm turned into flowing water. Sheets of snow melted instantly and dropped to the ground.

It was otherworldly. Every time Seolyeong saw it, it left him speechless. He reached out unconsciously toward the vanishing blizzard.

“I never hated you, Ahyeong-ah.”

The indifferent voice echoed deep inside him. So calm it made his teeth grit.

That godlike man from the Sipman Daesan seized Seolyeong by the hair again.

“Your husband… doesn’t hate anyone anymore not just you.”

Was the god worshipped by the Cheonma Singyo Sect truly driven by hatred?

No. That wasn’t what ‘Ma’ (demon) was. Unlike ‘chivalry,’ which derived strength from duty and cause, ‘Ma’ was powerful because it was unbound. It didn’t need justification.

“Your righteous world just isn’t strong enough to defeat me anymore.”

Only power moves the demonic.

Seolyeong shoved the man’s hand away with all his strength. But when his red eyes locked with Yujae’s, he saw only disappointment.

Still, Seolyeong went on.

“If you really mean that… send the martial leaders back. Meet with the Lord of the Alliance and vow a permanent end to all conflict.”

Yujae clicked his tongue and tightened his grip around Seolyeong’s waist.

“I said you only get one wish, remember?”

Then he launched Hyeongyeong with breathtaking speed. Seolyeong nearly bent backward from the force but managed to steady himself thanks to the arm around him.

They passed through clouds. Then, in the heart of a quiet cave, Yujae finally set him down.

The tunnel ahead was lit by more than thirty candles, but a foul stench hung in the air. Seolyeong, with his sharp sense of smell, winced slightly. Yujae stopped walking.

“Choose. Their return, or your permanent peace.”

Martial leaders and clan heads abducted by the sect were encased in ice, grotesque and barely alive. Some had massive wounds to the gut. Others had been half-eaten, flesh stripped down to ribs. The sight was gruesome.

Seolyeong’s face paled with shock. It took a long while before he could even speak.

“You said you didn’t hate them… Is that really true? You committed all this… without a shred of hatred?”

He couldn’t understand it. The man had clearly lost his mind somewhere on his path to divine power.

Tang Yujae took a few steps forward, examining the ice sculptures.

“…I used to hate them.”

That hatred had helped the young Yujae survive.

“Sometimes I even felt real rage.”

That was after he handed off Yuwon to the North Sea warrior and returned alone to Gyehong Mountain, searching desperately for Hayeon.

Her tiny hand had been discarded in the dirt.

It was unmistakably hers, pale and cold, with signs of abuse. The same proportions: a long pinky, index and ring finger nearly the same length.

Next he found her ankle. Bruised. He cupped it in his hands and warmed it with his breath. By then, his face had already been soaked in tears. Sobs of pain and fury poured out of him, like an overflowing lake.

He wandered the massacre site, trying to collect her.

But no matter how much he searched the mountain, he never found her head. All he discovered was the fur-lined coat she always wore to stay warm.

Yujae still wore that coat when he drank Yangcheonju.

“What do you think, Ahyeong-ah.”

The man who had become the greatest under heaven through vengeance turned to his bride.

Candlelight danced across his face, golden crown gleaming.

“Do I still look like someone who wants to destroy the world?”

His eyes held a kind of emptiness. Like a man who’d grown numb to feeling.

“…….”

Seolyeong met his gaze and spoke, fists clenched.

“…If the ones who butchered my kin still walked free, I too might have forsaken morality and chosen only revenge. So I ask you, my lord.”

Now was the time to get an answer. His whole body told him not to waste this chance.

He didn’t speak in riddles.

He asked directly.

“Cheonsin who makes flowers bloom in the dead of winter… Are you, truly, someone from the Sacheon Tang clan?”