Chapter 22: Bluish-Gray Like Lightning

The man was surrounded by five individuals and wore a grim expression.

He was unmistakably Maeng Sam, who had supposedly left the capital to return home not long ago.

Hyeonwol hadn’t sensed any falsehood in the Black Snake Gang Leader’s words, so Maeng Sam must have encountered some complication in his departure plans.

Or….

Hyeonwol felt one of the troubling hypotheses he’d been considering gaining weight.

He held his breath even more.

Raising his internal power to enhance his hearing, the conversation from quite a distance away became vividly clear.

“…I said my mind has changed!

I appreciate the offer, and I’m sorry, but I no longer wish to go with you all.”

“So you’re going back to the Black Snake Gang now?

Knowing you’ve already submitted your resignation to the Gang Leader.”

“…I’ll explain the situation and they’ll take me back.

No, I don’t need to explain any of this to you!

Stop trying to persuade me and all of you go your own way now.”

“You think this sounds like persuasion?”

The already uneasy atmosphere grew more serious due to the vicious aura emanating from the five individuals.

Only then did Maeng Sam seem to realize something was terribly wrong.

Forcing himself to hide his panic, he took small steps backward, but behind him was an alley wall—a perfect dead end.

Before Maeng Sam, who couldn’t steady his wavering gaze, a woman who appeared to be the leader among the five spoke brazenly in a coaxing tone.

“If you had come quietly when we were being nice, this wouldn’t have happened….

What a waste of effort.

Well, anyone in the capital who knows you will already think you left voluntarily, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Yo, you people, what are you trying to do…

Hahk!”

“Subdue him!”

At the woman’s command, the others quickly restrained Maeng Sam’s body left and right and pressed a white cloth to his mouth.

Maeng Sam’s eyes immediately rolled back and he lost consciousness.

It defied expectation that a martial artist would be subdued so easily.

The substance on the cloth must have been a sleeping agent stronger than imagined.

Hyeonwol hesitated briefly at the rapidly unfolding situation.

He could follow them to spy, but he was alone with no way to contact Wolsigak.

Moreover, he wasn’t particularly confident in tracking, so losing them meant not only losing the chance to gather information but also being unable to guarantee Maeng Sam’s safety—a far greater risk.

Hyeonwol judged that subduing them immediately, rescuing Maeng Sam, and hearing the full story was the better course.

He tore a strip from the hem of his black outer robe and tied it around his face as a makeshift mask.

Having made his decision and preparations, Hyeonwol kicked off the ground without further hesitation.

He charged swiftly into the midst of the five.

Clang—!

“Keuk, who are you…!”

The one who blocked Hyeonwol’s movement was the woman who appeared to be the leader.

Dressed as a wanderer, she had already drawn the long sword from her waist and was blocking the fan Hyeonwol swung.

The woman heightened her guard against this masked intruder while also showing a bewildered expression at the weapon—an ordinary folding fan.

But when a vivid purple energy flared up on the fan, she was shocked and hurriedly mobilized her internal power.

“A master!

All together—Kkeuk!”

The purple color was bright but not thin.

Seeing the dense energy wave shining sharply, all facing Hyeonwol’s attack widened their eyes.

In the martial world, being able to faintly cloak one’s weapon with internal power was considered first-rate, and freely projecting that energy was considered peak level—a significant distinction.

However, even among peak masters, those who could shape energy into such vivid form were rare.

It was a divine skill achievable only by those ranked among the world’s top hundred masters.

The woman and her companions were all not lacking to be called first-rate martial artists, but facing such a master with only five was clearly difficult.

Nevertheless, they didn’t diminish their momentum, regrouped, and soon displayed a picture-perfect combined attack technique.

Confronting their sword strikes, Hyeonwol suddenly furrowed his brow.

He recognized the faint, sticky dark red energy flowing from their weapons.

As expected, it was the Blood Cult.

Feeling somewhat frustrated, he spread the wide surface of his energy-wrapped fan to deflect the attacks of two, then intensified his offense.

As the purple energy traced an even clearer path along the fan’s ribs, someone’s groan was faintly heard.

Among purple sword energies, if the color had a reddish tint, martial artists would naturally recall the sword of the famous Taoist sect of the Nine Great Schools, Mount Hua.

However, the darker color, clearly closer to the azure representing imperial palace martial arts, was vastly different from Mount Hua’s.

Hyeonwol inwardly sighed.

Though his own energy was lighter in color than other imperial palace masters due to individual differences, he hadn’t wanted to risk revealing his affiliation and thus avoided using it unless necessary.

But facing the woman’s lethal sword, he realized their skill was more formidable than anticipated and brought it out to end things quickly.

Fortunately, they seemed too overwhelmed by his onslaught to ponder his identity.

As Hyeonwol, with bold movements, struck the vital points of three almost simultaneously with his folded fan, a gap appeared in their combined attack.

Hyeonwol didn’t miss the opportunity and subdued them one by one.

His movements were impeccably clean.

The moment their attention was captured by his fluttering robe hem and the fan’s dance, the sharp purple energy slashed through their flesh, splattering no small amount of blood.

Even the woman, the last remaining, could only exchange barely a dozen sword moves.

When she finally lost her sword amidst the exchange, Hyeonwol struck the back of her neck with his energy-laden fan, knocking her out.

Confirming all had lost consciousness, Hyeonwol briefly maintained his guard and caught his breath.

This kind of actual combat against proper masters was quite rare even for him.

Adding the time before his regression, it had been well over a decade, so what could he say?

Hyeonwol, pulling the mask down to his chin due to his rising breath, still didn’t release the fan from his hand as a precaution.

He approached Maeng Sam, collapsed in a corner, and quickly checked his condition.

Fortunately, Maeng Sam seemed merely deeply asleep, not poisoned.

They had apparently come prepared, anticipating Maeng Sam wouldn’t yield easily.

Hyeonwol glanced at a basket carried by one of the five kidnappers dressed as a peddler—large enough to fit a person.

Then it happened.

After confirming Maeng Sam’s safety, as Hyeonwol was about to seal the pressure points of the fallen martial artists, he saw the woman who had fought him to the end moving with difficulty.

She hadn’t completely lost consciousness?

Hyeonwol hurriedly rose, wary of what she might do, and widened his eyes as he recognized the object she pulled from her bosom.

His senses, heightened more than usual, clearly detected the strong gunpowder scent emanating from it.

‘A thunderclap bomb?’

For suicide, no.

To take everyone here together with her in mutual destruction!

In the blink of an eye, the woman muttered strange incantations, and the thunderclap bomb immediately began to glow red.

Clicking his tongue, Hyeonwol was about to shield the unconscious Maeng Sam behind him and raise his internal power when—

“Sworn brother, duck!”

KWAANG—!

A bluish-gray beam of light, flying like a flash of lightning, sent the thunderclap bomb flying into the distant air as a massive explosion occurred.

Simultaneously, Hyeonwol felt someone’s body enveloping his own and struggled to regain his ringing hearing.

The dust that had blanketed the entire alley slowly dispersed.

The murmuring of people outside the alley, startled by the loud noise, gradually grew louder.

Before Hyeonwol could even register that the owner of the familiar voice he’d heard was embracing him from behind, as soon as the explosion’s aftermath settled, he turned with a gasp.

“You!

Why on earth did you rush in like this!

Are you hurt anywhere?!”

Meeting the face he’d expected, his voice was filled with alarm.

The returning answer was merely calm in comparison.

“Are you unharmed, sworn brother?”

“With you shielding me completely, how could I not be fine!

Why would you do something so foolish….”

Even Seol Cheon-yu must have known that Hyeonwol, a martial artist capable of freely projecting internal power, would have suffered at most light injuries from an explosion at that distance.

Hyeonwol scolded his sworn brother thoroughly for throwing himself into danger unnecessarily, hastily examining every part of Seol Cheon-yu’s body.

Seol Cheon-yu had apparently perfectly used his energy to block the explosion’s aftermath even in that instant.

His neat white robes showed not a single sign of disarray.

Only one spot—the front of his robes was slightly crumpled from shielding him.

Confirming this, Hyeonwol let out a long, groaning sigh and finally wore a relieved expression.

What was with this child…

Was throwing himself into trials the protagonist’s fate?

Was he aware of his position as the Demonic Cult leader?

No matter how powerful a martial artist the protagonist was, from an observer’s perspective, his actions were utterly reckless.

In contrast to Hyeonwol’s rapidly changing expression, Seol Cheon-yu, who had been calmly observing him all along, only relaxed his stiffened face and smiled when his sworn brother breathed a sigh of relief.

Hyeonwol, now looking tired, glared at him and spoke.

“…Anyway, your recklessness from childhood hasn’t changed at all.

So, I’m truly curious how you appeared here… but first, we should leave.

If people gather, we won’t have a good explanation.”

The five martial artists Hyeonwol had subdued were already in gruesome states, caught in the thunderclap bomb’s explosion.

Hyeonwol briefly gazed at their bodies—at least they had succeeded perfectly in suicide—with somber eyes, then hoisted the unconscious Maeng Sam onto his back and strode quickly into another alley.

When Seol Cheon-yu followed and tried to take Maeng Sam instead, Hyeonwol refused with a tutting sound.

At that rather cold response, Seol Cheon-yu’s eyebrows minutely lowered, his expression becoming pitiful.

Though subtle and probably unintentional, his face was one that would evoke strong guilt in any observer.

Hyeonwol coughed and forced himself to look away.

But soon, a low resonant voice drew his attention again.

“Sworn brother, are you scolding this younger brother?”

“If you know, then reflect on it.”

“I happened to be passing by and witnessed sworn brother fighting those ruffians….

It was coincidence.

I’m truly sorry for causing you worry.

Still, I’m glad to see you safe like this.”

“…You certainly have a way with words.

Yes, thanks to you I’m also uninjured, so I’m truly grateful.”

Though it was a clean explanation and apology, Seol Cheon-yu’s final words made it hard to trust whether he was genuinely reflecting.

Even as Hyeonwol narrowed his eyes further, Seol Cheon-yu could only smile awkwardly at his gratitude.

He was inwardly struggling to hide his guilty feelings.

He couldn’t confess that, on his way to drop Yoo Seo-han at Wolsigak, he had spotted Hyeonwol alone leaving through the main gate and unconsciously begun secretly following him—that the sight of Hyeonwol overlapped with memories of the person he’d encountered on those streets long ago, and he couldn’t look away.