Part 10 - The Former Age
When the whistling stopped, what came was a silence with no bottom and no end.
The man they called "Boss" clenched his teeth.
When the whistle had been sounding, he'd been praying it would stop—even a little sooner. But the moment it actually ceased, a crushing impatience surged in with the stillness.
At this rate, someone might snap and do something reckless.
The underlings at his side were already rolling their eyes around wildly, gripping their weapons with hands that trembled dr-dr-dr.
He tightened his lower belly again, forced his voice loud, and called out.
"W-We have business—"
Clatter—
A blade one of them had dropped rolled across the ground.
He whipped his head around, then let out a small breath of relief.
The idiot had only been startled by his voice.
"Damn it". He wiped the cold sweat running down his forehead.
Their crew had experience in everything—kidnapping, human trafficking, contract killing. There was nowhere they didn't stick their hands in, and they'd built their notoriety accordingly.
And the biggest reason they'd managed to carve out a place in this world was simple:
They had never, ever, tried to entangle themselves with the martial world.
If there was even the slightest connection to martial artists, they wouldn't so much as show their faces.
That was their—his—way of staying alive.
After confirming the staggering underling had picked his weapon back up, he spoke again.
"If you have business with us, would you please show yourself?"
He could feel the two hands he'd clasped together—trying to look as respectful as possible—shivering against his will.
He'd never fought one, but he'd seen martial artists plenty of times.
Even among his organization, the black-path martial artists who strutted around spilling murderous intent and pressure—just seeing them had always turned his blood cold.
But he'd never felt tension like this.
Was this what it felt like to face a martial artist directly?
Or…
Was it that they were facing something fundamentally different—something else entirely?
"…!"
His thoughts cut off.
A figure appeared at the far end of the back alley.
That loose, shambling gait somehow looked overflowing with leisure.
It seemed like The Scholar's attire, but the darkness was too thick to make out the details of the face.
No one cared about the face, anyway.
"G-Ghostly spirit?!"
There was a term—ghostfire.
Originally, it referred to floating flames in the air often mentioned in goblin tales, but it could also mean eyes burning with rancor.
And they'd seen that kind of look countless times.
When they tore a child from its mother.
When they slaughtered someone's beloved right in front of them.
When they disposed of a woman worth a hefty payout.
But those "ghostfires" had only ever been metaphor.
Never—
Never meant flames literally burning inside eye sockets.
The underlings screamed and crumpled to the ground.
He tried—somehow—to hold on.
But when that thing shambled closer, looked at them, and bared its teeth in a wide grin as it laughed—
He pissed himself standing up.
"Hahaha. So, it was here."
Its mouth was packed with beastly teeth, sharp like saw blades.
"I smell something delicious."
***
"Hm?"
Yeon Sang-hyeon opened his eyes and tilted his head.
He remembered leaving the inn, but after that… he'd caught a delicious scent, and—
He pushed himself up and looked around.
"…An underground tomb?"
The space, lit only by a few thin rays of dim light leaking down from a ceiling of unknown height, was filled with stone coffins.
And in each coffin with its lid removed lay a single corpse—but the degree of rot differed from body to body.
And…
"Uooohhh…"
"Euuuhhh…!"
Those corpses were writhing and wailing.
Yeon Sang-hyeon wandered between the coffins, touching the bodies here and there, watching with interest.
"Hmm…"
That calmness—unbelievable.
"As I thought, you're surely a Disciple of The Ruler Of Darkness. Heh heh."
Even at the sudden voice from behind, Yeon Sang-hyeon didn't look particularly startled.
It wasn't even something you could call courage anymore.
If anything, it was closer to madness.
"That's a voice like your throat's grown mold, Elder."
When he turned, there stood an old man.
An old man wrapped in rags so worn it was hard to tell what the garment had ever been.
At Yeon Sang-hyeon's words, the old man arched his back and burst into wild laughter.
"Exactly right!"
The inside of the old man's mouth was rotten and twisted—and indeed, his throat was packed with an unidentifiable mold.
Yet even faced with such grotesquery, Yeon Sang-hyeon only clicked his tongue.
"If you don't care about oral hygiene, isn't it obvious you won't have a single tooth left?"
At that reaction, the old man dropped to his knees, slapped the floor, and broke into another fit of laughter.
"The more I see you, the more I like you!"
He nodded.
"This time, The Ruler Of Darkness has found a proper piece of goods!"
Then Yeon Sang-hyeon said.
"Isn't it the true master who found a monster?"
At that, the old man clutched his belly and poured out another peal of crazed laughter.
Rotten fluids mixed with pus streamed from his eyes and nose and mouth, but in this place, no one cared about something like that.
The old man even clapped as he laughed for a long while, until he finally seemed to run out of breath and started panting, drawing deep breaths.
"…Ah, I've lived a long, long time, and I've seen every kind of breed there is, but I've never seen one like you."
Then the old man's eyes narrowed.
"But listen…"
The temperature dropped sharply.
Even the corpses that had been screaming incomprehensible shrieks stopped moving.
Even the thin beams of light seeping in from above seemed to grow thinner.
"I'm curious—what do you know about The Ruler Of Darkness, to flap your gums like that?"
Yeon Sang-hyeon closed his mouth.
A demonic artifact beyond the ages.
Something powerful enough to twist time and send him back into the past.
The absence of causality.
Irrationality.
A defying-heaven scripture, woven by three immortals from their own skin, blood, and tendons.
Did he know about that "thing"?
Yeon Sang-hyeon looked straight into the old man's eyes.
Eyes like glass beads.
Despite the grotesque, hideous exterior, those eyes were perfectly calm—clear.
The eyes of a sage, with not a trace of madness to be found.
Staring into them, Yeon Sang-hyeon offered a formal cupped-fist salute.
"Please grant me your teaching."
"…Ho."
At Yeon Sang-hyeon's behavior, the old man let out a small sound of admiration.
"Usually, those who become Disciples of The Ruler Of Darkness show two kinds of faces here."
The first: arrogant men who believe the only thing they lack is "power".
The second: men blinded by madness, impossible to speak with properly.
"You're different from them."
Even the form of address changed—from "you bastard" to "you, sir".
"Is it really so special to admit what you don't know, and to ask to be taught?"
At Yeon Sang-hyeon's modesty, the old man snorted and sat cross-legged in midair.
"Then I must say it too. The Ruler Of Darkness, huh…"
He lifted his gaze to the empty air.
"Even I do not truly understand The Ruler Of Darkness."
It wasn't as though Yeon Sang-hyeon could call him out for making a fuss while knowing nothing, so he simply nodded.
"So that's the core of it."
The old man nodded.
"Precisely."
He continued, slowly gesturing through the air.
"This demonic artifact has simply existed since some point long ago. Even its origins are unclear."
Yeon Sang-hyeon's brows twitched.
"It blathers on like this: that there were immortals in ancient times, that they grew enraged, went mad, peeled their own bodies to make it—this and that."
The old man curled his lips.
"But even that cannot be trusted."
"Why is that?"
A strange light surged in thick streams from the old man's eyes.
The overwhelming pressure, imposed in an instant, was enough that even Yeon Sang-hyeon had to stumble back.
"Because I, too, am an immortal."
"…!"
The old man let out a self-mocking laugh.
"More precisely—I was an immortal."
His aura subsided as if it had been a lie.
"…Now I've fallen so low, I'm less than dust."
Even with his aura withdrawn, the aftershock alone made the air tremble.
"Since the day I was trapped within this demonic artifact called The Ruler Of Darkness, I don't even know how much time has passed. Through eons upon eons, I have pondered and pursued it."
Yeon Sang-hyeon saw the old man's hand shaking.
"Whenever I uncovered one thing, it became two. Whenever I grasped two, it became three…"
His gaze drifted through the empty air.
"And still, I did not stop. I could not stop."
Those glass-bead eyes took on a deep, hollow gleam.
"…But even now, I do not know."
Yeon Sang-hyeon swallowed.
From the moment The Ruler Of Darkness had turned his time back, he'd faintly sensed it.
But the fact that it could imprison a being who had once been an immortal inside his very belly—and after eons of study still leave him with nothing but an answer that wasn't an answer…
"…."
It was like peering into an abyss—
So vast it made him dizzy.
"'The demonic artifact found its master', huh…"
The old man repeated Yeon Sang-hyeon's earlier words, then sighed low.
"Since long ago, countless Disciples have tried to seize the reins of this demonic artifact and become its master, but they all failed…"
His voice sank quietly.
"Each and every one of them shone like stars in the night sky."
Yeon Sang-hyeon's breath scattered into the air as though crumbling.
"And among them were many who were greater even than I."
A being greater than one who had attained the rank of immortal.
"And many whose talent surpassed even mine."
Talent surpassing that of one who had become an immortal.
A terribly heavy sigh slipped from the old man's lips.
"They all failed. They were devoured."
He raised his head and looked at Yeon Sang-hyeon.
"But in you, I saw a single streak—just a sliver—of hope."
Yeon Sang-hyeon's mouth opened heavily.
"…Why?"
The old man smiled enigmatically.
"You are a man who has only just finished the 'initiation rite'. You've merely set foot on the starting point of this long journey."
Yeon Sang-hyeon didn't press further.
His self was not so weak that he needed to seek his hope in another.
Instead, he asked something else.
"Then what is this initiation rite?"
At the question, the old man lifted his long brows as if surprised.
"You don't know?"
Yeon Sang-hyeon fell into thought.
Before coming to this place, he had visited an inn in Luoyang, wandered a back alley, and…
A delicious smell.
And then…
Yeon Sang-hyeon's eyes widened.
At that, the old man burst into a snickering laugh.
Even as he laughed, his gaze clung to Yeon Sang-hyeon as if it had no intention of ever letting go.
In those glass-bead pupils, Yeon Sang-hyeon saw madness swelling up.
Pointing at Yeon Sang-hyeon, the old man asked with utter certainty:
"You. Didn't you devour them?"