From the uninvited guest draped in tattered clothing to the appearance of a young master whose body crackled with internal energy like a storm.
It was an unimaginable scene for the Murim of Xi'an.
Were they challenging the established order of the demonic faction's realm?
The tavern fell deathly silent, with only the sound of the winter wind howling outside, rattling the window frame as if it were dancing.
The light of lanterns reflected off the smooth, silk garments worn by the silent onlookers.
These were people who, even in times of famine, could afford to frequent upscale establishments. Eyes from all directions silently observed the two, with lifeless, detached gazes.
But to Lazy Flame Dragon, it seemed of little consequence.
"Did someone die or something?"
He cracked his neck this way and that, speaking nonchalantly.
"Boss, I looked into it."
He added, using an odd title, like a typical member of the demonic underworld.
He stood at the center of the wrecked tavern, where the energy discharge had turned the place upside down.
Spoons and chopsticks were scattered everywhere, and the lanterns hanging above were tilted, casting dim orange light.
It matched the hue of Lazy Flame Dragon's martial robe.
"There's no place to stay. Everywhere's full."
He spoke casually, like tossing a pebble into a pond.
Having changed his appearance, he was currently abstaining from the opium poppies. The infamous wastrel of the Hwangbo Clan, known for his addiction to crimson petals, had grown more irritable since entering Xi'an without anything to chew on.
For now, it was fortunate that he recognized his superior.
Jung Yeonshin furrowed his brow slightly. Judging by the damaged walls, they'd have to pay for it, but it wasn't easy to discreetly hand over silver while posing as members of the demonic faction.
Even doing it secretly was risky. Xi'an's Murim was a hotbed of treachery where trusting anyone's word was ill-advised.
No wonder he's from a noble clan.
Lazy Flame Dragon, standing idly, had lived like royalty in Jinan since birth. Most aristocratic clans in the martial world were like that.
Changing their ways was difficult. Jung Yeonshin could only watch him with a mix of exasperation and disdain.
Lazy Flame Dragon smirked.
"I can read your thoughts, boss. You hide them well when you hold a sword, though."
The leader of the Radiant Demon Squad wasn't known for being introspective. Even those around him were aware of this. Lazy Flame Dragon thought, He might be worth watching once he's my age.
'Not that I'll live to see it.'
Suppressing a meaningless laugh, he spoke again.
"Let's stay here. We had to wreck one place anyway, so this works out. Truly fitting for a promising star beloved by the sect leader."
"Quit being a nuisance."
Jung Yeonshin muttered.
"Why don't you try eating this, boss? Since entering the sect, I never imagined enduring this kind of torment."
Jung Yeonshin subtly relaxed his furrowed brow. Unintentionally, his gaze shifted sideways.
His subordinate, unreadable even in his current state, wasn't someone he could scold too harshly, especially when the man was suffering.
Jung Yeonshin himself had never experienced the pain brought by the Solar Divine Meridian or the sensations induced by poppies. And he likely never would.
As long as the smell of alcohol doesn't linger.
He silently shook his head, tightening his grip. His hand gathered the thick hair of the demonic martial artist before him.
The prodigy of the Sublime Land Sect, who casually spoke of civilian slaughter, squirmed under his grip.
The martial artist of the demonic faction seemed unbothered.
"...!"
As Jung Yeonshin shoved So Yu-ryang's head aside, he kicked the leg of the backless chair, sending it skidding across the wooden floor. The scraping sound was brief.
Unlike the Desolate Fortress, this place was made of wood.
Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. How many noble families were embedded within Xi'an's Murim? Could there be members of noble bloodlines who had joined the demonic faction?
'I once encountered a corrupt branch family of the Hwangbo clan, Ji-Hyeon.'
Slowly, he parted his lips.
"Where is Mok-mi?"
Mok-mi was the alias for Zhuge Qing-ya during missions. The nickname came from her mastery of sight arts, the best among the Radiant Demon elites.
Lazy Flame Dragon was called Dae Han-ryang, while Heon Wonchang was known as Jin-hyung.
Dae Han-ryang meant "great wastrel", and Jin-hyung meant "true elder brother", names fitting for a world of illiterate martial artists. All were coined by Jung Yeonshin.
"She's coming with Jin-dae. They probably found nothing, too. The locals here seem to have turned this tavern into a base because they lack proper training grounds."
Lowering Heon Wonchang to the rank of younger brother, Lazy Flame Dragon concluded his remarks.
Swish.
He pressed his boot against So Yu-ryang's throat, who had been coughing dryly.
The man's throat quivered beneath the polished black leather.
"Do you know why so many martial artists meet their end in guesthouses, like it's an everyday occurrence?"
Gag!
"It's because they don't know their place. Now, tell me how you obtained that Nine Yang Unified Arts before I gouge out those useless, blasphemous eyes of yours."
Lazy Flame Dragon grinned, baring his teeth.
His smile had the texture of madness.
That was when the tavern floor trembled under the sudden shuffle of footsteps.
The onlookers, who had been hesitating, stood up, leaving their meals behind. People in Xi'an were used to martial clashes.
They understood when a fight was escalating and knew when to leave.
Realizing they wouldn't get another chance, they quickly fled from both the upper levels and side entrances, creating a sudden bustle.
Dust clouds spread across the tavern's polished floor. Some people, concealing their anxiety, mumbled awkward farewells.
"We wouldn't dare interrupt the masters' affairs. We shall take our leave..."
"We will go home and stay locked inside! We swear we won't say a word about tonight!"
Their reluctance to get involved stemmed from fear of repercussions later.
Their behavior reflected the state of Xi'an's Murim, where people adapted to the vast, chaotic order maintained by the Yeoryeong Sect and the Tyrant Sword Tribe.
No one spared a glance at the two uninvited troublemakers.
Jung Yeonshin didn't stop them.
Even Lazy Flame Dragon, who had been kicking So Yu-ryang and Gal Do-jin back and forth, quietly stepped aside.
When the martial artists, likely lackeys of Sublime Land Sect, passed by, Lazy Flame Dragon imitated his superior's demeanor.
With a mischievous smile, he relished the brief moment, as if it dulled his pain.
"Well."
Just as Lazy Flame Dragon exhaled the word,
Creak.
A man in silk garments swiftly opened the tavern door.
A rush of cold, unfamiliar air swept in, rustling the black collar of Jung Yeonshin's coat.
The polished interior door, made of purple sandalwood, brushed against the hands of the departing guests. Amid the chill, the chaotic sounds of the streets seeped inside.
It was the commotion caused by the demonic groups of Lantian County in Xi'an.
Through the windows and cracks of various taverns, laughter and shouts echoed from afar. The air carried the raw stench of freshly slaughtered meat.
This was a martial world unlike any he had experienced before.
The folded glow of the sunset painted Jung Yeonshin's eyelashes.
There were too many people involved in Jung Hye-ah's disappearance. He didn't even know where his older brother was. And then there was the matter of finding the righteous hero, Cloud Dragon Sword.
'Is there no way to resolve everything at once?'
The eyes of the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad darkened, sinking into pitch-black stillness.
* * *
The life of a tavern boy was exhausting.
In Xi'an, it was even more so, especially after the annihilation of the Zhongnan Sect and the rise of the Thirteen Celestial Demons. The city had fallen to the demonic faction's control.
Martial artists filled the vast city, divided into two factions: the Tyrant Sword Tribe and Yeoryeong Sect's followers. Several sects occupied each district.
In Lantian County, the Tyrant Sword Tribe was represented by the White Sun Sect, while the Sublime Land Sect served the Yeoryeong Sect.
It was their world.
Even the local lords and regional martial leaders had turned a blind eye to the commoners. It was as easy as flipping a hand to bring death upon them. Even the tavern boy of the guesthouse knew that.
A shaggy-haired boy carried a tray of food up to the highest floor.
Creak.
The stairs, made of wood, creaked with each step, but he pressed his weight onto the front of his feet to minimize the noise.
The living forces of Xi'an's demonic order should not concern themselves with a mere tavern boy.
No good would come from catching the attention of martial masters from the demonic faction. Fortunately, the boy was experienced in avoiding such things.
"I've brought the side dishes."
He said, keeping his voice calm and lowered.
He entered a room bathed in radiant sunlight that reflected off the orchids lined along the windowsill.
Approaching the two people at the low table, he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was a meeting between the masters of the Sublime Land Sect and the White Sun Sect. He had to conduct himself as if serving royalty.
He dared not see either of their faces. Even imagining it was forbidden.
The sect leaders, despite having conquered Xi'an, carried themselves with an air of mystery, enough to instill natural fear among commoners.
Swish.
He carefully placed the food on the table. The spicy aroma of chicken wafted from his fingertips.
He was caught between the overwhelming presences of the two sect leaders.
As he set down the dishes one by one, the boy silently thanked the standing-style dining arrangement, which saved him from having to see their faces.
"So, you've taken charge of the surviving disciples of Zhongnan Sect. How are they being treated?"
A deep, heavy voice resonated, it was Jang Gi-il, the leader of the White Sun Sect.
"'Treated'?"
A woman across from him scoffed. Only an equal sect leader would dare respond so bluntly. She was Wei Il-hwa, the leader of the Sublime Land Sect.
She was a leader who prioritized the safety of her sect above all, and rumors suggested she had once been Jang Gi-il's childhood friend.
"The secular sect leader who was the first to betray Zhongnan Sect now dares to act noble. Disgusting and laughable. Do you mind if I vomit here? After all, we've seen worse."
Her voice dripped with mockery.
Jang Gi-il replied calmly.
"Xi'an has always been Zhongnan's city. If we wish to gauge public sentiment, we can't oppress them indefinitely."
"Public sentiment?"
"How long do you think we can keep controlling those who travel in and out of the city? During a famine, it's better to leave the gates open to secure resources. News about the public's struggles will eventually reach Desolate Fortress."
"Are you afraid of the imperial watchdogs? They always have to divide their forces, what's so scary about that? You're not thinking of relying on the Thirteen Celestial Demons, are you? Or is this about wanting to secretly smuggle the Zhongnan disciples out of here?"
"Are you the one trying to probe my intentions?"
The sound of a wine bottle being tilted echoed quietly. It was a dangerous exchange.
The conversation between the two figures who controlled Xi'an's Murim suffocated the tavern boy, the fear sinking deep into his chest.
To the common people, they were mountain gods. The boy's hands trembled slightly as he sliced a large mooncake and transferred some of the chicken into smaller bowls.
"They say an investigation team has been dispatched from the Hanzhong Murim Alliance. Their pretext is to assess the circumstances."
Jang Gi-il shifted the topic. Perhaps it was an intriguing subject, as a faint, derisive chuckle escaped Wei Il-hwa's lips.
"They're bold. They still think Shaanxi is their domain. I heard they've had many defectors ever since the head of the Zhuge Clan left, yet they can't grasp the current situation."
"So, you've reported this to Shaanxi's Number One Demon, haven't you? Always be on guard. The Three Great Masters under Yeoryeong aren't human—they should be considered monsters beyond human understanding."
"And you, my dear Gi-il, haven't you worn out your hands and feet trying to please the Ghost Spirit Sword? I hear that the most exceptional woman in the Tyrant Sword Tribe favors you. How fortunate for you."
Names as divine as the heavens flowed from the lips of the two rulers. The tavern boy's hands momentarily stopped.
But only for a moment. He quickly finished arranging the dishes and scurried out of the room.
The boy couldn't leave the guesthouse completely; he was essentially confined there. It wasn't entirely a bad thing.
After all, he hadn't been killed despite overhearing the conversations of the demonic leaders. He even caught part of their final exchange.
"Once we've finished eating, we'll go check on the rats."
"They say Gal Do-jin, the righteous swordsman, was defeated. Apparently, he didn't even have time to react. Taken down by some brat."
"A reasonably well-trained fool attempting to imitate a chivalrous hero. Haven't we dealt with countless rebels before? Trash always appears endlessly. Maybe we should bring that promising lad under our wing since his martial skills seem useful."
Power surged through Wei Il-hwa's voice, a force that made her suitable to act as an enforcer under the Thirteen Celestial Demons.
Energy from their conversation seeped through the cracks in the door, brushing against the boy's clothes.
A peculiar rumor was spreading through Lantian County in Xi'an, one about the young leader of the demonic faction, not even twenty years old, and his violent subordinate.
Murim warriors were sensitive to territorial matters, and this was especially true for those in the demonic faction.
The local martial world, which had been tightly wound, now froze over completely.
The conversation on the top floor of the guesthouse painted the fates of the outsiders.
The sharp, oppressive air gripped the tavern boy's legs as he descended the stairs.
This time, the steps didn't make a sound.
* * *
The shadow cast by the guesthouse's walls stretched slightly to the side. The tall walls, rising higher than a person's height, blocked the chilly winter sunlight.
Muffled conversations drifted out from inside.
"Sight arts must be a good field of study. Mok-mi, judging by your confidence, you haven't cut your hair—it's very long."
"Yes...?"
"Thank you. I've heard everything I need. Put the writing materials in my bag. Sublime Land Sect will be coming."
"Shouldn't we prepare a bit more? Perhaps bring a few extra swords..."
"One Beiming sword is enough. My personal sight arts aren't fully developed yet. They'll be complete within the next month, but until then, we can't afford to be lenient with our movements. Focus on mastering the principles of sight arts rather than reacting to the enemy's techniques. Just bind the cover for now. We'll fill the contents gradually."
"The Comprehensive Overview of Destruction... Is this the martial technique you're planning to bestow?"
"Yes."
"I understand. I've heard that Shaolin Temple has a library similar to the Heavenly Gold Martial Arsenal. This will be different from the Radiance Sutra, right? If you're granting it, it must be..."
"Not there."
"Then...?"
"For the world."
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