Chapter 821

Ilcheon Sword questioned the old man’s words.

“The leader of the Celestial Stream Sect?”

“That’s correct.”

“What?”

That old man was the leader of the Celestial Stream Sect?

Ilcheon Sword couldn’t hide his disbelief.

It had only been the first day of the search. He had prepared to wait as long as two weeks, and yet the sect leader appeared before him so suddenly?

‘Is this guy really the leader of the Celestial Stream Sect?’

Doubt flashed through his mind. The man’s claim was flimsy at best.

And more than that—

‘Was he ever this strong?’

The known strength of the Celestial Stream Sect’s leader wasn’t impressive. At best, he should have been on par with the vice-captains of the Azure Dragon Division.

But this man—

Even at a glance, Ilcheon Sword could tell he was Hwagyeong-level.

Far stronger than the reports suggested.

As Ilcheon Sword fixed him with a suspicious glare, the old man spoke again.

“I heard you were looking for me, so I thought it polite to present myself first. I hope that pleases you.”

The words pulled a hollow laugh from Ilcheon Sword.

“What a joke….”

His gaze grew cold.

“You must think the Alliance is a laughingstock.”

The sect leader’s claim twisted Ilcheon Sword’s face into a sneer.

“You knew the Martial Alliance was searching for you, yet you appeared willingly? Do you even know who I am?”

Crackle—!!

A murderous aura began to rise from Ilcheon Sword’s shoulders, spreading like wildfire.

“If this is your idea of a joke, I’m not amused.”

“A joke? I merely acted with courtesy, as I said.”

“Is that so?”

Shing—!!

The blade of Ilcheon Sword shimmered with a layer of sharp energy.

The air trembled under the force, gathering into a swirling wind.

“Then I suppose it’s only fair I return the favor.”

He shifted into a combat stance.

Although the Azure Dragon Division’s forces were spread out, reinforcements wouldn’t take long to arrive.

At the same time, Ilcheon Sword remained wary of Celestial Stream Sect members possibly lying in wait.

‘Capture him if possible. Eliminate him if necessary.’

The orders had been clear—determine their ties to the Demonic Cult and wipe them out if confirmed.

And considering the sect leader’s bold appearance, it might as well have been a declaration of war.

Boom—!

Ilcheon Sword lunged forward.

He moved so fast that the sound of impact trailed behind his body.

Crash—!

His blade flashed like falling stars, scattering sparks.

The edge of his sword raced toward the old man’s throat.

“I know what you intend for the Star King.”

Whoosh—!

A sudden burst of energy froze Ilcheon Sword mid-strike.

The blade halted just before it touched the old man’s neck, releasing a sharp gust.

Ilcheon Sword glared at him with piercing eyes.

“…What did you just say?”

His voice was drenched in killing intent, yet he didn’t follow through with the attack.

The old man continued.

“I said, I know your intentions regarding the Star King.”

“…And?”

“I also know the Star King is unwell.”

“...!”

“I’m sure you’re already aware of it, aren’t you?”

Ilcheon Sword’s eyes wavered as the information piled up.

How the hell did this man know that?

Seeing his reaction, the old man smirked.

“Our eyes and ears aren’t limited to Sichuan.”

“...”

“I apologize if this surprises you, but I didn’t come here purely as an enemy. Given your goals, I thought it worth speaking with you.”

As he spoke, the old man extended a hand, gently touching Ilcheon Sword’s blade.

“If my assumptions are wrong, feel free to act as you wish. But if I’m right—”

Without resistance, the sword shifted aside as the old man pushed it away.

“Wouldn’t it be worth sitting down and talking this through? I assure you, it won’t be a conversation you’ll regret.”

“...”

Ilcheon Sword’s breath wavered slightly.

This wasn’t a conversation he should be having.

A heretic.

And one suspected of ties to the Demonic Cult.

As a representative of the righteous sects—no, as a division leader of the Martial Alliance—such a discussion was unthinkable.

He should have already drawn his sword again, severing the man’s head for his audacity.

That’s what he should have done.

And yet—

Clink.

By the time he came to his senses, his blade was already back in its sheath.

“…If you spout nonsense, I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

Grinding his teeth, Ilcheon Sword relented.

“I appreciate your generosity.”

The old man smiled, undeterred.

Meanwhile—

“...”

In the shadows, unseen eyes silently observed the tense encounter.

******************

“Is that so?”

The Shadow King replied indifferently.

“Yes.”

“Hmph….”

The Celestial Stream Sect’s leader had made contact with Ilcheon Sword.

Hearing this, he clicked his tongue softly.

It was expected, yet—

“Faster than I thought.”

While everything had unfolded as foreseen, it wasn’t exactly satisfying.

‘I figured he’d hesitate at least once.’

After all, Ilcheon Sword was a division leader of the Martial Alliance.

A man who had spent years rooted in righteousness.

Even knowing the future, the Shadow King had thought Ilcheon Sword would refuse the offer at least initially.

But—

‘He accepted without hesitation?’

Ilcheon Sword had folded under the Celestial Stream Sect leader’s words far too quickly.

Of course, there was still the possibility he hadn’t fully committed.

Yet—

‘From what I saw, it’s already over.’

Once they’d crossed that line, it was only a matter of time.

Realizing this, the Shadow King chuckled.

‘Was I actually expecting something different?’

He had mocked himself countless times for clinging to hope where none existed.

And yet, there was still a sliver of expectation buried somewhere deep inside him.

Disappointment, after all, only came from having expectations to begin with.

“Still, it feels oddly refreshing.”

This time, his smile wasn’t sarcastic.

It was genuine amusement.

If Ilcheon Sword was destined to die, wasn’t it better for him to die without leaving any lingering doubts?

In that sense, this development was more than acceptable.

By betraying any lingering faith he might have had, Ilcheon Sword had sealed his own fate.

And that was enough.

“Now then….”

The Shadow King walked forward, his steps deliberate.

Squelch.

His foot sank slightly, producing a wet, squelching noise.

He glanced down.

It wasn’t water.

Blood.

The dimly lit space reeked of iron.

Raising his hand, he conjured a flame.

Fwoosh—!

The small fire flared to life, illuminating the area.

It revealed the ground—a pool of blood, not water.

“Guh…hah….”

A trembling man let out a faint whimper.

Surrounding him were several corpses, throats torn out and lifeless eyes staring upward.

He had killed them all.

This place belonged to those accused of colluding with the Celestial Stream Sect.

Suspected ties to the Demonic Cult.

“So.”

The Shadow King reached out, gently stroking the trembling man’s cheek.

Blood smeared from his fingers onto the man’s skin, dripping down in thin streaks.

The man’s breaths hitched, his body visibly shaking.

“P-please… please… please….”

The man’s legs trembled uncontrollably, and soon—

A dark stain spread down his pants.

He had wet himself.

Ignoring the stench, the Shadow King continued.

“Tell me. Who are you?”

This time, he hoped for an answer.

If the man didn’t want to end up like the bodies around him, he had better speak quickly.

*****************

In the central hall of the Martial Alliance in Hanan—

Rustle. Rustle.

It was a time when most were asleep, and the halls lay quiet.

A single dim lantern flickered, casting its faint glow upon an elderly man as he moved his brush with swift precision.

Despite his age, the man worked tirelessly, producing letter after letter with such speed that it seemed effortless.

The sheer number of documents on the desk, however, told another story.

No matter how quickly he worked, the pile never seemed to shrink.

It was the kind of workload that could exhaust most men at a glance.

Yet, the old man paid no mind to fatigue and continued his task in silence.

If there was one thing to lament, it was that his speed had slowed significantly with age.

Ten—no, even twenty years ago, he would have finished this task already.

Now, the frailty of his body reminded him of time’s cruel march.

Still, he worked.

“…Hmph.”

Finally, the old man set his brush down and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m getting old.”

He smiled bitterly, acknowledging the truth he could no longer deny.

His body had aged—and so had his mind.

‘And my heart as well.’

It wasn’t just his body that felt old.

Even his convictions and beliefs, once unshakable, now seemed worn down by the years.

Time eroded ideals just as it eroded flesh.

He often wondered—

‘Do I still have anything left?’

What remained of the dreams and aspirations he once had?

The question plagued him, yet at the same time, he feared the answer.

Perhaps—

‘Because I already know the truth.’

He feared the certainty of what he’d lost.

The old man, Muk Yeon, let out a bitter laugh as he picked up his brush again.

‘Too many useless thoughts.’

Lately, his mind wandered more than it should.

Whenever he paused his work, his thoughts spiraled out of control.

And he knew why.

‘It must be because of that girl.’

Pi Yeon-yeon.

The girl brought by the child of Shanxi—the one rumored to carry the bloodline of the Phantom Sword Queen.

Ever since her arrival, Muk Yeon’s thoughts had been in disarray.

It felt as though the remnants of a past he’d tried to bury had suddenly resurfaced.

Years had passed, yet the ghosts of that time still haunted him.

He had lied to himself, telling himself it couldn’t be helped.

But with her appearance, even that excuse crumbled.

Had it truly been unavoidable?

Unable to face the answer, Muk Yeon had once fled the Alliance.

Yet—

‘I return, only to face her again.’

It was as if fate refused to let him escape unfinished business.

This time, it demanded answers.

“…Hah.”

Muk Yeon chuckled bitterly.

If this was a test, it was one far too cruel for an old man.

Then—

‘Who’s the one pulling the strings?’

Who had brought this mess back into his life?

A face came to mind.

The one who not only brought the girl but also kept dragging him back to that unresolved past.

The Star King.

Muk Yeon ran a hand down his wrinkled face.

If there was a mastermind behind it all, it had to be that young man.

‘Did he plan this?’

What did the Star King know?

And why had he acted as he did?

It was a mystery as vexing as the girl herself.

At least—

‘For now.’

“…Sigh.”

Muk Yeon shook his head and picked up his brush once more.

He had rested long enough.

For now, work came first.

But just as he started writing—

“...”

Muk Yeon froze.

His gaze shifted toward the flickering lantern.

And then—

Flick.

The light went out.

No breeze.

No draft.

Yet the flame had died, plunging the room into darkness.

An unnatural occurrence.

Muk Yeon, however, remained calm.

He seemed to know exactly what was happening.

His voice cut through the silence.

“…If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve prepared tea. My apologies.”

Though he spoke as if greeting an old acquaintance, his eyes were anything but warm.

No one else should have been in the room.

Yet when he spoke, a presence emerged in the shadows.

Even in the darkness, two burning red eyes pierced through, glowing with fury.

The gaze bore into Muk Yeon, making his throat go dry.

Still, he held his ground.

And then—

“I have many questions for a man who broke his oath.”

The voice that came from the shadows was low and heavy.

“Kuh…!”

A massive hand shot out, seizing Muk Yeon’s throat.

The old man’s frail body was lifted off the ground with ease.

“But I’ll only ask one.”

Muk Yeon struggled, gasping for air.

“Muk Yeon.”

Gu Cheolwoon spoke.

“Where is my son?”

His voice was filled with murderous rage—ready to tear the old man apart.