Chapter 27: The Whispers of Corruption

The village nestled at the foot of Mount Myeonghwa was steeped in a desolation that chilled the bones.

A thick, cloying stench of blood drifted from the very entrance of the settlement. To make matters worse, a mournful wailing echoed from deep within the mountain—a sound so saturated with grief that it threatened to drown anyone who heard it in pure sorrow.

“Horrific. Truly horrific…”

Hogyeom scan the surroundings, shuddering in revulsion.

Those who fell victim to a tiger attack—the dreaded Hohwan—were never buried through conventional means. Instead, a mound of stones was erected over the site of their demise, creating what was known as a Hosikchong, a tiger-feeding tomb.

In this particular village, numerous stone mounds capped with earthenware steamers dotted the landscape.

When a person was devoured by a tiger, their remaining bones were cremated at the site, placed inside a box, and sealed beneath a pile of rocks. An upside-down earthenware steamer was set on top, its steam holes pierced with an iron spindle taken from a spinning wheel. It was a binding ritual meant to trap the resulting Changgwi—the tiger’s ghost s*ave—forcing it to rotate endlessly inside the steamer like a spinning wheel, preventing it from wandering.

Yet, those desperate spiritual defenses had clearly failed.

In a settlement so small it claimed barely fifteen thatched-roof cottages, the number of Hosikchong exceeded twenty. Considering there were likely bodies that had never been recovered at all, it was safe to assume almost every single soul in this village had been turned into a Changgwi.

To break free from their eternal servitude to the beast that killed them, a Changgwi was bound by a cruel curse: it had to lure a new victim to the tiger. Naturally, they targeted their own families first, followed by their relatives. For the inhabitants of a village at the base of the mountain, becoming the next sacrifice was an inevitability.

“There seems to be no one left alive here,” Hogyeom noted grimly.

“Those who survived must have fled,” Yu-on replied, his gaze heavy as he swept his eyes across the ghost town. “To escape the curse of becoming a puppet.”

When the minor spirit bird had reported a rogue tiger commanding not one, but three Changgwi, Yu-on knew the situation was dire. But seeing it with his own eyes, he realized they were entirely too late.

Exhaling a pained, heavy breath, Yu-on closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, his gaze fixed on Mount Myeonghwa, turning as cold as ice.

“The spirits are calling out so pitifully. Let us go and greet them.”

With unwavering strides, he began his ascent into the dark forest.

The moment they crossed the mountain threshold, the Changgwi materialized as if they had been lying in wait, swirling around Yu-on and Hogyeom in a dizzying frenzy.

“He looks delicious. So delicious.”

“Let us taste him first before we deliver him to the master.”

“If we consume that entity, we might finally be set free.”

Though they lacked the courage to even look at Hogyeom—instinctively terrified of his true nature as a sovereign tiger—they smacked their lips and whispered maliciously as they eyed Yu-on, sensing the grander divinity within him.

“Why, you insolent wretches!”

Furious at their audacity, Hogyeom bristled, ready to leap forward and rip the ghosts to shreds.

“Step back, Hogyeom. Stay your hand. Do you intend to interfere with my work?”

At the freezing command in Yu-on’s voice, Hogyeom gritted his teeth and took a step back, forcing his temper under control. He remembered why they had journeyed here. If he destroyed the ghosts himself, Yu-on would gain no celestial merit, forcing them to seek out another source of corruption.

He understood the logic, yet his blood boiled as he watched the wretched things cackle in the presence of the Dragon. He stood there, chest heaving, glaring daggers at the spirits.

“Do creatures like you truly believe you could digest me? I doubt your souls could withstand the affliction.”

Yu-on clicked his tongue, observing the ghosts with a mixture of pity and disdain, as if looking at utterly ignorant beasts. His first objective was to sever the invisible chains binding them to the mountain’s master. As he gathered his divine energy, his golden eyes deepened into a rich, brilliant hue.

In response to his mocking words, one of the Changgwi began to emit a spine-chilling sound. The entity’s face stretched into a grotesque, cheerful grin, but the sound tearing from its mouth was the most agonizing wail in existence.

“To that faraway land across the mountains, you surrendered your horns, your blood, and your flesh… yet you turn a blind eye to the helpless people of your own domain. Oh, the grief! We starved without a protector, only to become meat for a tiger, and now you demand we die a second death? How sorrowful, how deeply sorrowful!”

As the mournful lament echoed through the trees, Yu-on’s face hardened into a mask of pure stone. A volatile mixture of shame and fury incinerated his remaining composure.

In a flash of absolute movement, he closed the distance, his hand shooting forward to wrap securely around the Changgwi’s throat. He lifted the spirit entirely off the ground. Long, sharp nails dug deep into its neck; though no blood flowed from the ethereal form, the ghost began to flail frantically, choking as if its very lifeforce were being crushed.

The corrupted malice that had blanketed Mount Myeonghwa since their arrival began to pulse, black smoke swirling from the tips of Yu-on’s fingers and mingling with his golden aura in an unstable, flickering dance.

“Where did you hear that tale?”

His voice was terrifyingly level, dropping to a pitch that made the air itself vibrate.

Despite having already lost their physical bodies, the remaining two Changgwi felt a primal horror pierce their souls. Overwhelmed by the crushing pressure radiating from Yu-on, they collapsed to the dirt, trembling violently, unable to even contemplate flight.

The captured ghost realized it had made a fatal error, but the words could not be recalled. Though it was already dead and bound to a beast, a terrifying, absolute fear of annihilation consumed it. The entity before them might be fractured, stripped of his full power, and far from a complete Dragon—but he was still a god, completely beyond their ability to defile.

“The… the Jangsanbeom! A Jangsanbeom passed through these woods a few days ago… he… he told us!”

At the gasping revelation, Yu-on’s expression turned remarkably grim. “A Jangsanbeom has manifested?”

Dealing with a rogue tiger and its horde of ghosts was troublesome enough, but now a creature as sinister as the Jangsanbeom—the flesh-eating mimic of the mountains—had entered the equation.

“These worthless beasts…”

An expletive escaped his lips. Hearing the dangerous grind of Yu-on’s teeth, Hogyeom widened his eyes and shook his head frantically, desperate to distance himself from the lower feline scum.

“Where did the creature go?”

“S-South. It said it was heading south.”

Yu-on considered demanding an exact location, but decided against it. There were only a handful of peaks in the southern territories capable of harboring a creature of that magnitude; finding it would not be difficult.

He decided it was time to release the ghost into the cycle of reincarnation. Even though the spirit had provided valuable intelligence, and despite the fact that its bitter accusations held a seed of undeniable truth… he could not tolerate such stories circulating in the mortal realm. Especially not now, while his divinity remained compromised.

‘I cannot afford to be imprisoned again. Such a miracle would not save me a second time.’

A frigid smile touched his lips as his thoughts briefly drifted to the detached palace, to Huiyeon.

The unexpected blessing that had found him. The woman who might just prove to be his salvation.

He would unravel her mysteries in due time. For now, cleansing this mountain took precedence. Part of him wished to leave these wretched ghosts to suffer in their eternal torment, but if left unchecked, they would eventually breach the boundaries of Mount Myeonghwa to hunt fresh blood in the surrounding territories.

“I find this distasteful, but I shall sever your cycle of malice.”

With a sharp flick of his hand, Yu-on cut the invisible shackles connecting the Changgwi to the rogue tiger. The moment the bond snapped, the grotesque, half-beast distortion melted away, and the ghost’s soul returned to its true human shape before dissolving peacefully into the ether.

Sensing the sudden liberation of its s*ave, the mountain’s master unleashed a furious roar that caused the very earth to tremble. While the beast lacked Hogyeom’s ancient, world-shaking power, it had lived long enough to possess a formidable, resounding voice.

Ensuring the freed soul had vanished entirely into the afterlife, Yu-on turned his eyes toward the deeper slopes.

“Let us go. It is time to hunt a tiger.”

Muttering under his breath that such phrasing was rather offensive to his species, Hogyeom quickly followed in his wake.

The rogue beast—having failed to achieve spiritual ascension and merely growing massive with age—was no match for the Dragon. Though it lunged with venomous fury, its eyes burning with malice, its life was extinguished in a mere fraction of a second.

Yet, as Yu-on looked down at the carcass, a lingering doubt troubled him. For a creature capable of dominating three Changgwi, its independent strength had felt remarkably underwhelming. A subtle, unsettling premonition crept into his mind, though he couldn’t pinpoint its origin.

“Is something amiss, Lord Yu-on?”

“Something is wrong. Do you not feel it?”

Hogyeom scratched his head, staring down at the dead tiger of Mount Myeonghwa. “I… cannot say I do.”

While Hogyeom was an invaluable asset when brute force was required, he was utterly hopeless when it came to matters of strategy or intellect. Yu-on found himself missing the sharp wit of his other companion.

“Where is Gwak-cheon?”

“That miserable fox? He’s likely drowned in a vat of liquor at some tavern down in the capital. Ah… come to think of it, after exerting oneself like this, a cold bottle of grain wine would be absolutely divine.”

Clicking his tongue at Hogyeom, who was completely oblivious to the tension and merely smacking his lips in anticipation of alcohol, Yu-on walked past him.

“Where are you going?”

“I intend to examine the beast’s lair.”

It had been centuries since he last set foot on Mount Myeonghwa—long before his imprisonment in Taeseong—but he remembered its spiritual current distinctly. The energy of this place had never been this foul. The miasma was entirely too dense to be the work of a simple Changgwi. Furthermore, even with the rogue tiger dead and the ghosts liberated, the heavy corruption showed no signs of dissipating.

A faint numbness pricked the tips of his fingers as the surrounding malice tried to seep back into his soul, threatening to undo the celestial merit he had just earned. He flexed his fist, scanning the entire mountain with his divine sight, but found nothing.

Yu-on silently resolved that on his next excursion, he would drag either Cheong-mun or Gwak-cheon along, regardless of their complaints.

“We are returning.”

At his command, Hogyeom offered no arguments this time, instantly shifting back into his massive tiger form. Even with his dull perceptions, he could tell the corruption of Mount Myeonghwa was a toxic trap.

Exerting every ounce of his supernatural speed, Hogyeom pushed his limits, covering the distance far faster than their journey out. Within an hour, they had breached the perimeter of the royal palace.

Though they needed to travel further to reach his sanctuary on Mount Mureung, Yu-on signaled the great beast to stop near the inner walls.

“You have done well, carrying me all this way. Go and indulge in as much wine as your heart desires.”

“Truly?” Hogyeom’s eyes flashed with excitement before he paused, shaking his massive head. “No, I cannot. I must escort you back to your chambers and remain by your side.”

“Do you take me for a frail mortal who cannot walk a few paces? I am perfectly capable of navigating my own grounds.”

“But technically, you are getting up there in years…”

Yu-on leveled a dangerous glare at the oblivious tiger, his voice dropping into a stern threat. “If you do not leave this instant, I shall personally ensure you never taste a single drop of grain wine for the rest of your immortal existence.”

“Ah… well, that is a bit extreme. Then, perhaps you could accompany me—”

“I have no interest. Go and drink your fill.”

Grumbling that drinking alone was a thoroughly miserable endeavor, Hogyeom smacked his lips. He stole a cautious glance at Yu-on. “Am I… truly permitted to leave?”

When Yu-on simply pressed his lips into a thin, unforgiving line, his golden eyes narrowing, Hogyeom finally scrambled into motion. With an effortless, silent bound, the great tiger cleared the massive palace wall and vanished into the night, his spiritual presence rapidly fading as he headed toward the capital.

Left in the quiet safety of the dark, Yu-on finally allowed his feet to move.

He walked slowly, deliberately, steering his path toward the quiet detached palace that sat directly along the gateway to Mount Mureung.

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