Chapter 17: The Arrow at the Altar

Yun-jo had a question, so he asked the old man.

“Sir, what’s that?”

He pointed at the rows of archers in red, standing to the east, west, south, and north, surrounding the altar.

“Those are the Guisaldae.”

The officer explained that the Guisaldae weren’t part of the ritual itself. They were placed around the altar to chase away any evil spirits or monsters that might try to sneak in while the god was coming.

“The red arrows they’re holding are called gwishal; they drive away ghosts. The ones painted with many layers of red to make patterns are specially called cheokhong gwishal. They’re stronger than normal gwishal. If a non-human gets hit, its soul scatters and its body burns and crumbles. If it’s a really strong one, one arrow isn’t enough, but at least it’ll keep it still for half an hour.”

“Cheokhong gwishal…”

The arrows were indeed bright red, and even from a distance, they looked impressive.

“You know a lot about this?”

“Well, at my age, I would. These days, Bukryeong is troubled by bandits, but back then, there were really many monsters. They came down to villages every night and ate people. It was so frequent that until a few years ago, every village had to have a Guisaldae.”

“Monsters?”

“Shh.”

The officer quickly lowered his voice and added.

“Keep quiet. They come when they hear their name being called. Especially here and now, when the gods’ gate is open, you must never do that.”

Yun-jo nodded. Monsters that eat people—probably people mistook wild beasts for them, but given the times, it made sense. With people mistaking him for a mountain god or ghost, it wasn’t strange.

“Then where did all those monsters from before go?”

“Manra chased them all away.”

“What? Manra?”

The unexpected name at an unexpected time surprised Yun-jo. He looked at the officer.

Just then, it was time for the bows. At the shout to bow, everyone inside and outside the Sajikdan bowed. The officer quickly prostrated himself on the ground. Yun-jo awkwardly knelt too.

At the signal, the Guisaldae raised their bows, drew the strings, and shot arrows into the air. Red arrows flew up, cutting through the blue sky.

But one arrow went in a completely different direction. It flew northwest, straight toward Yun-jo.

Yun-jo hadn’t been paying attention to what they were doing, so he only noticed the gwishal flying at him late.

But for Yun-jo, whose physical abilities were several times those of an ordinary person, dodging a single arrow was no trouble. He quickly moved aside, and the gwishal passed through the spot he’d been standing, hit the door of the storage shed, and fell to the ground.

“Oh my, why did it fly here?”

The officer jumped up in a fuss.

Yun-jo picked up the gwishal. Looking closely, the tip wasn’t metal but red-painted wood.

‘Was this what the message to run meant?’

Feeling puzzled, he looked up to find Sahyeon. This time, he found him easily. Sahyeon was standing among the officials lined up below the altar, and he happened to be looking this way.

‘But this arrow has no arrowhead. Even if I got hit…’

He didn’t have time to think further. Suddenly, a creaking sound came from somewhere ominous. It came from the north gate of the altar. The north gate was slowly tilting.

People began to murmur. Someone shouted.

“The gate is falling!”

Yun-jo threw down the gwishal and ran. He was literally over the threshold, over the wall, and at the foot of the altar in the blink of an eye. The officer beside him blinked in disbelief. Even though he’d watched with his own eyes, he hadn’t seen him move.

Passing through the flustered crowd, Yun-jo approached Sahyeon. Then, something shone sharply at the edge of his vision.

It was an arrow. This time, a real one. Not the blunt wooden tip that had been aimed at him earlier, but an arrow with a sharp metal tip, flying straight at Sahyeon.

“Sahyeon!”

Thinking he had to dodge, Yun-jo reached out without thinking and grabbed Sahyeon’s hand. As Sahyeon’s body was pulled, the silk of his official hat shook and lifted for a moment.

Inside, Sahyeon’s surprised eyes looked at him.

For a moment, a light flashed.

At the same time, a faint ringing of a bell sounded.

It was so brief that no one saw or heard it. Most were focused on the tilting north gate.

Finally, the large three-door red gate collapsed with a roar like a landslide. A massive cloud of dust rose, instantly blocking the view of most people there.

When the dust settled, only the official hat, covered in sand, remained on the spot. No one was seen anywhere.

Part 3: Mystery

Once, there was a time when unknown monsters ran rampant across heaven and earth.

No one knew where they came from or when they had existed. How they were born was also unknown, and their purpose was unclear. They simply devoured people indiscriminately and turned the world upside down.

Until a few decades ago, local lords had to close their gates and focus on protecting their people from monsters, rather than exchanging with other regions or expanding their territory.

Wonkyung was no exception. The number of monsters increased over time, to the point where even the imperial palace was invaded. To block monster intrusions, hundreds of Guisaldae were stationed in the palace alone, and magic formations were set up everywhere. Yet the monsters appeared day and night, kept coming back no matter how many were removed, and refused to disappear like a nightmare.

But even the longest nightmare doesn’t last forever.

The number of monsters, which had seemed to grow, gradually decreased from a certain point, until they no longer appeared.

There are many stories about why they disappeared, but the important thing is that they no longer appear.

Nowadays, Baekyang was not as chaotic as before. It had been years since the last rumor of a monster appearing in a distant town. People returned to abandoned villages, and city gates were reopened.

But even now, mentioning monsters in Baekyang was taboo. People believed that monsters still lurked deep under cliffs, in dark caves, in uninhabited forests, and in misty graveyards. Fearing they might return at any time, people considered even mentioning them unlucky.

The arrow had only grazed Sahyeon, leaving no wound on his body. And that was thanks to Yun-jo. After grabbing Sahyeon’s hand, Yun-jo thought he had to get out of there, and without thinking, he moved to the place he knew best.

That was Mount Yulsi.

The two fell side by side into the camp’s courtyard.

With the sudden change of scenery, even Sahyeon couldn’t hide his surprise. His face, turned to the side, looked slightly bewildered.

“This is…?”

“Ah, this is my home.”

Sahyeon was silent for a moment. It was hard to tell if Yun-jo was joking as usual or serious.

He looked around carefully. The crude shape of the camp, the overgrown front yard from lack of care, the shape of the opposite peak that seemed too close—after confirming all of this, he acknowledged that this place was neither near the Sajikdan nor anywhere near the town. He looked at Yun-jo again.

His eyes asked why he had brought him here. Yun-jo answered awkwardly.

“I was in a hurry, and I did it without thinking… Ah!”

With a sudden roar, a huge shadow leaped out from somewhere and tackled Sahyeon. Unprepared, Yun-jo, who was standing next to him, also staggered. He barely lifted his head, which had almost slammed into the ground.

“Beom-il!”

Yun-jo shouted urgently.

The huge beast that had knocked Sahyeon down was Beom-il. It stopped just before sinking its teeth into Sahyeon’s neck. Yun-jo scolded him sternly.

“No! Stop!”

“Grrr…”

Beom-il made a very dissatisfied sound and slowly backed away from Sahyeon. But he didn’t retreat completely. True to his nature as a tiger who believed that intruders to Mount Yulsi should be shown the taste of teeth or claws, or both, Beom-il stood about three steps away, still glaring at Sahyeon, waiting for another chance to show off his fangs.

Yun-jo turned his eyes from Beom-il and saw that Sahyeon had fallen and wasn’t getting up. Surprised, he approached.

“Sahyeon, are you okay?”

He quickly sat him up, but his face was very pale, and his breathing was rapid. Shock? Hyperventilation? Paroxysmal tachycardia? All kinds of medical terms popped into Yun-jo’s head. Thinking that Sahyeon might have strained his heart from the shock, Yun-jo hurriedly felt his chest with his hand.

But Sahyeon, even in that state, grabbed his wrist firmly to stop him.

“Just hold on. I think your heart is beating too fast. Your breathing is bad too… You might pass out.”

Indeed, Sahyeon’s heart was pounding as if it would burst out. The strong beat was felt even through his layered clothes.

Still, Sahyeon didn’t let go of Yun-jo’s wrist and stubbornly shook his head, making it clear he absolutely would not allow Yun-jo to touch his body. Forced to find another way, Yun-jo pushed him back and laid him down.

“?!”

As Sahyeon looked up with bewildered eyes, Yun-jo sat on top of him, using his own body to keep him down, and with his free hand, he covered Sahyeon’s mouth, which was about to say something, to prevent hyperventilation.

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