Chapter 67

Those who were truly informed knew what to do the moment they stepped into a secret realm.

Stay alert.

Just as Seol Unwi—now acting under the alias Nameless—had done, so too did the other top experts like Ju Soa realize at once: this place was no ordinary realm.

They could tell from a single glance at the Demon-Eye Stones.

Demonic realms were notoriously unpredictable. Even surviving them was difficult, let alone navigating or controlling them.

The Thousand-Handed Beauty, Ju Soa, quickly emptied her pouch of training elixirs and spirit pills into her mouth. The concoctions would shield her mind and blood vessels from demonic energy. As the pills took effect, her expression grew cool and focused. She drew her sword in one smooth motion.

And then she waited.

Because in a secret realm, the goal isn’t to snatch treasure first.

It’s to survive.

Preparation was survival. Observation was survival. That was the foundation. Even if you never reached the treasure at the end, the things you picked up along the way—side-products, hidden martial scrolls—could be equally valuable. Sometimes a single scroll, discovered by chance, could change your entire life.

Especially when experts at the Harmonization Stage had entered the field. Charging ahead recklessly was suicide. Ju Soa made the only rational choice.

What kind of lunatic with a lower cultivation would dare rush forward?

Only a fool.

About fifteen minutes passed before someone else appeared in the violet-lit corridor.

Ju Soa swore internally.

“Well, well... if it isn’t the famous Drunken Swordsman himself.”

Gong Myeongu.

He laughed boisterously, voice echoing off the stone.

“Hahaha... To think I’d run into the Thousand-Handed Beauty in a place like this. Must be fate.”

His hand had already slipped onto his sword’s hilt.

First Law of the Realm:

Everyone you meet is an enemy—until proven otherwise.

Ju Soa groaned inside.

Shit. Just my luck. A Harmonization expert.

While she herself was at the peak of Five Banners Form, there was a world of difference between that and someone from the Four Realms of Heaven and Earth.

Still, she didn’t back down.

Her grip on her sword shifted, readying it.

The tension was thick as a blade.

And then—

Shff—!

A shadow lunged from the darkness, feet slamming into the stone, headed straight for Gong Myeongu. He scowled and swung his sword.

Chiiiiing—!!

A dagger clashed with the blade in midair, scattering wild currents of natural energy.

Both men winced—Gong Myeongu in clear annoyance, the masked attacker unseen beneath the veil.

“...Well now. I see someone doesn’t waste time. Barely inside the realm and already spilling killing intent?”

The attacker landed lightly on the floor.

It was Sacheon-u, the Ghost-Faced Assassin.

The favored successor of the Ghost Sect. His eyes still burned with that same cold bloodlust, even as he casually stepped back two paces.

His feet moved, but his intent never wavered.

Gong Myeongu turned toward Ju Soa.

“How about it? Shall we join forces?”

She gave a half-laugh.

“You mean right after you tried to kill me?”

“It was just caution, I assure you. But look at him. Sacheon-u isn’t here for a chat. He’ll kill both of us. Unless you’re hesitating?”

Just as Ju Soa opened her mouth to respond, a new sound filled the corridor.

Drag, drag.

Something long and heavy was being pulled across the floor.

All three turned.

A short man in an oversized dark robe approached, his hem dragging behind him.

His face was hidden beneath a deep conical hat and cloth mask.

Gong Myeongu swallowed hard.

No...

A chill ran down his spine.

Something felt deeply wrong.

Sacheon-u seemed to sense it too. His gaze narrowed behind the grotesque demon mask.

They had seen this man before—outside the realm.

He hadn’t felt like this then.

But now?

Now, the air around him reeked of danger.

The man looked up.

Two eyes stared out beneath the hat.

Like rabbits before a tiger, both Gong Myeongu and Sacheon-u flinched involuntarily.

That was all the time he needed.

The figure moved.

Faster than thought.

No one could follow his motion.

His arm flicked once—

Shrrack—!

Gong Myeongu’s body split cleanly in two, blood spraying as his torso slid apart.

Then the other arm swung—

CRACK—!!

Sacheon-u slammed into the wall with a thunderous crash.

“Gahk...”

He collapsed, limbs trembling, then fell still.

Two Harmonization experts.

Dead in a single move each.

It was impossible.

The disparity in power was too extreme.

Only someone at the Mythic Realm could create a scene like this.

That’s what he was.

A Mythic-level expert.

Yet oddly... he didn’t touch Ju Soa.

She smiled.

“It’s been a while, Uncle.”

The man removed his mask.

A boy’s face was revealed.

But the voice that came out was low, mature—a full-grown man’s.

“It has, Young Lady.”

He looked annoyed.

“I told you repeatedly through sound transmission not to enter. Why did you ignore me?”

“I was curious,” she said with a shrug. “You know how I am.”

“If I hadn’t found you first... the consequences could have been dire.”

She scratched her head sheepishly.

No arguments there.

“You understand what this is, don’t you? It’s a demonic realm. We need to leave immediately.”

There was genuine concern in his voice.

She smiled again.

Ju Soa was the heir of the Killing Sword Sect, a sect that passed down its lineage to only one successor each generation.

Her father was the previous Sect Leader.

And the man before her—his name was Jeong Muheun.

A master of the Mythic Realm.

Twenty years ago, while cultivating a forbidden technique known as Returning Smoke Child-Face Art, something went wrong.

His body had permanently assumed the form of a child.

But in return, he gained immense power.

He was, in reality, in his mid-forties.

He had many titles.

Ghost-Eyed Boy. Blood-Cloud Boy. Demon-Eyed Boy.

He usually didn’t bother with disguises—but this time was different.

Ju Soa meant to ask why.

But he was already speaking again.

“Continued exposure to demonic energy will have long-term effects. Let’s move.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

They walked off together, disappearing into the tunnel.

Ju Soa never saw the faint smile cross his youthful face.

Nor did she stop to ask how he had found her so quickly.

Or why the hem of his robe was soaked in blood.

****

In the maze lined with Demon-Eye Stones, the demonic energy surged nonstop.

Experts of the Three Flowers realm could endure it—but barely.

Baek Wontak and Gu Pyeong had worked together for years. Their coordination was seamless, their teamwork near perfect.

They made it through the labyrinth with little issue.

But what they saw next made them stop cold.

A massive stone chamber.

They stood in stunned silence, staring.

Dozens of dark altars filled the room, looming like sentinels.

“...Huh.”

Baek Wontak let out a breath in awe.

The light from the stones above cast clear shadows on every surface, illuminating every feature of the chamber and the altars alike.

They scanned the room.

No traps.

No hostile energy.

But the sight of those black altars—lined with ancient weapons, rusted and decayed—held a majesty of their own.

They were ruined, yes.

But once, they must have been glorious.

Gu Pyeong stepped toward one of the altars and inspected a relic.

Cracked. Corroded. Worthless now.

“...Pity. Even if they’re relics from the Age of Primordials, they’ve long since turned to scrap.”

If they hadn’t degraded, they’d be priceless. Just intact enough to carry out would’ve made them rich.

Tch.

Baek Wontak clicked his tongue. Not worth it.

There wasn’t even a storage artifact to preserve them.

And weight was everything in a secret realm.

To him, they were just junk.

But then—

“...!”

Baek Wontak froze.

He’d heard something move.

His eyes darted around.

One of the weapons was gone.

There was a gap where there hadn’t been before.

“Wait... wasn’t there one just...”

RUMBLE.

They both spun, back-to-back, inner power exploding outward.

From the ceiling, a torrent of demonic energy poured down.

It twisted and coiled, forming a massive web that sealed the chamber.

They ran—but it was too fast.

Before they’d taken two steps, the net had closed.

“...Damn it.”

They’d hesitated.

They’d let down their guard.

They’d imagined the past glories of rusted weapons.

They’d wasted time.

In a secret realm, the Third Law is simple:

Never drop your guard.

They broke it.

And now they would pay.

Then—

A figure emerged from within the web.

They stared.

“You... how...”

It was Nameless.

In his hands were the very weapons that had been sitting on the altar.

It made no sense.

The demonic energy around him coiled like smoke, yet did him no harm.

It was as if he were immune.

As if he were one of them.

As if he had always belonged.

That couldn’t be.

He was only at the Five Dragon Blooming Star level. If he were immune to demonic energy, the two of them would’ve noticed.

“You thought they were worthless?”

Nameless’s voice rang through the chamber.

The darkness swirled tighter with every word.

But the source wasn’t his blood—it was the weapons themselves.

“These relics may look like junk. But they were wielded by the demonic masters of ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ the Primordial Age. Rusted, broken... perhaps. But the essence—”

He raised one.

The swirling intensified.

“—the demonic imprint inside them remains. Demonic energy never disappears. It only transforms.”

The weapons lifted into the air.

Each radiated a pulse, forming a great storm around him.

“These echoes... they form a path. A path back to the past—”

His eyes gleamed.

“—and a key to unlock the future.”