Chapter 27 Fell in love at first sight?
At the absurd excuse, Yeo Il's brows knit sharply.
Even though her reaction must have been obvious right before him, Jin Cheong-ak did not stop his nonsense. Instead, he piled on increasingly grand absurdities, clearly intent on provoking her.
"Are you surprised because the reason is so obvious? Understandable. How often does one encounter a woman as beautiful as Miss Namgung in a lifetime? I've wandered across the continent for quite some time and met many women, yet never have I seen a noble fairy so dignified that I would lose my senses and wish to devote my life, as I do to Miss Namgung here."
"Enough."
"It seems Miss Namgung is shy. Even that is dazzlingly lovely to me—if this is not the heart of a man struck at first sight, what is? To confess my impure intentions, even offering this body at Cheonju Mountain was all to win Miss Namgung's favor—"
Fortunately, no matter how inscrutable Namgung Jeok-myeong might be, he still possessed enough patience to cut off such drivel.
"Enough! As Soyo says, stop. I understand sufficiently. There is no need to elaborate further on what about her captivated you…"
"Ah, that is regrettable. I was just about to recite a poem."
"Refrain."
"If you doubt my sincerity, come test me anytime. For Miss Namgung, whom I fell for at first sight, I would give even my life—starting with poetry—"
"I said I understand."
As though avoiding something filthy, Namgung Jeok-myeong hurried out of the room.
After observing his departing presence for a moment, Yeo Il asked,
"Did he leave empty-handed?"
"Hm. I suppose he did."
A careless reply.
Jin Cheong-ak's interruption spared her a pointless direct clash with Namgung Jeok-myeong, which was fortunate…
But his footsteps felt lighter when he left.
For someone who had just threatened her with his hand on his sword, it was an anticlimactic conclusion. Had he made some move in that brief moment without her noticing?
Even if so, there was no need for Yeo Il to rush. The urgent party was always the other side. If she waited, they would reveal their next move.
The real problem lay elsewhere.
The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult… I've become entangled with something I never anticipated.
The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
The central authority of the demonic path, which erected an unseen wall in Xinjiang and coiled hundreds of thousands of followers around its leader, the Heavenly Demon.
Even Salmak—once poised to crush the Nine Sects and swallow the Central Plains—had not dared extend its hand easily toward them. After the Orthodox–Demonic War ended eighteen years ago, there had been no clashes with the Murim Alliance, and at times their very existence was nearly forgotten.
Ah—Bodhidharma once answered Emperor Wu:
To wander the martial world is but a road of hardship.
That night, for the first time in dozens of days, Yeo Il regulated her qi to steady her body and mind.
Had she neglected her internal cultivation lately and now faced remnants of her past—the Death Ledger and the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult?
At the familiar edge where heart demons crept closer…
Yeo Il.
Yeo Il—no.
I was forced to face a face I did not welcome in the slightest.
[You ask whether a third Death Ledger exists?]
Black hair soaked in hot spring water twisted languidly.
The man's pale face turned toward me. His probing gaze lingered for a long moment before finally withdrawing.
[Unexpected. To think you, Yeo Il, would take interest in such a thing.]
I must maintain composure.
With that single resolve, I rested my chin on my hand as though nothing was amiss and looked at him.
The man, staring into the distance as if lost in thought, slowly rose. Through the faint white steam, muscles like those of a yaksha shifted.
Women approached soundlessly, draping a purple robe over his naked body.
One gently rubbed camellia oil into his hair; another poured foul, potent liquor into a cup and offered it to him.
For a mere assassin, he always adorned himself in splendid embroidered robes or court garments, lavish and alluring.
No—he was not merely an assassin.
He was a blade-wielder. A born killer, a madman whose minimal moral restraint had long since been crushed.
[Truly unexpected… that you would undergo a change of heart where my eyes do not reach. I do not like it.]
I admit it. A few days ago, I would not have cared at all.
But not now.
Now that I understood the distinction and purpose of the first and second Death Ledgers, I could not help but suspect the existence of a third.
Even if only to bring down Salmak.
[If you mean to assign such weight to a trivial question, then ignore it.]
[Trivial?]
[…]
[Yeo Il. Do you know even that word is unlike you?]
Just as I considered abandoning the matter rather than arousing further suspicion—
[Of course there is. A third Death Ledger.]
The wine cup in his hand floated briefly in the air before descending softly onto the table before me.
[Are you curious what is written in it? There is nothing I cannot reveal. It is a Death Ledger for the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.]
Even I could not conceal the stiffening of my expression.
A Death Ledger for the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult meant a ledger bearing the name of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult itself.
I had long known he was mad, but to speak of a Death Ledger against the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult…
Had he even written the cult leader's name?
How far did this man see?
Salmak… for what purpose did it truly exist?
From the moment I encountered an unexpected truth during a mission, that question grew uncontrollably, leaving a great ripple in a life that once followed a fixed shape.
At the center of that question always stood one man.
[Since I have answered you, I shall give you a task. Do not worry—it will be quite simple and interesting.]
Yes. This man, towering like Mount Tai.
My reflection shimmered in his gleaming eyes.
Hideous.
A vivid scar ran from beneath my left eye, across my nose and lips, down to my chin—so grotesque that no other word fit.
A face no one could forget after seeing it once. A face suited to this abyss as its counterpart.
[Yeo Il.]
Crack.
"Ah!"
A purple sleeve shot out, mercilessly seizing the face of the attendant—
the woman who had just been quietly pouring him wine.
[Do you know that even a worm writhes when stepped on?]
His hand was as enormous as his stature, and the skull of the weaker one trapped within it looked like a toy.
[When a worm writhes… harboring an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.]
"A… ah…"
Red veins crawled over the back of his hand. Strength that could have crushed her instantly instead drew pained moans from every direction.
As though awakening from one nightmare only to confront another, I tightened my grip on my own chin.
His gaze fixed precisely on me.
[Do you know that they are aiming for my back?]
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