Before long, Bi Unseong spoke calmly.
“If you move, I must move. If I move, the whole Jianghu moves. And if, by some stroke of bad luck, the Jianghu goes mad and starts rampaging, no one will be able to stop it. In the end, the only way to put it to rest will be to feed it the blood of the Jianghu until its belly bursts.”
Bi seol bit her lip lightly.
The words ‘So I have to live trapped here forever?’ lingered in her mouth, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them.
She knew what her father meant.
But… but still…
She had been born the daughter of a Jianghu warrior. Whether she liked it or not, she had learned martial arts and grown up as one of the Jianghu.
Unfortunately, her world within the Jianghu had always been limited.
A world where everyone was courteous, where everyone was careful.
Even the most terrifying demonic masters, whom the Jianghu feared to even meet eyes with, would smile at her and show her respect. No matter what she did, everything was forgiven, and no one ever treated her honestly.
That was her Jianghu.
She longed to be free.
Her gaze trembled slightly as she looked at Bi Unseong staring silently at the river. The thought that she had troubled her father over something impossible left a stinging pain in her heart.
Father… I’m sorry.
As she pondered how to end the conversation, she buried her guilt deep in her heart and pushed forward in her own way.
“I’m going to turn rebellious!”
Covering her face like a tragic heroine, Bi seol ran off somewhere. Of course, each step she took was a blend of exaggerated playfulness and genuine sorrow.
How much time had passed since she left?
Still staring silently at the river, Bi Unseong finally spoke in a low voice.
“Summon the Fourth Strategist.”
A reply echoed from the void.
“Yes.”
About a quarter of an hour later, the Chief Military Strategist of the Demonic Cult, Sa Dobin, arrived. Despite being in his forties, his clean appearance and youthful impression made him seem much younger.
“You called for me?”
Bi Unseong let out a sigh and dramatically raised both hands.
“I’ve lost.”
Sa Dobin looked puzzled, prompting Bi Unseong to elaborate.
“Our Lady Bi seol has declared her independence.”
At last, a smile tugged at the corner of Sa Dobin’s lips.
Bi Unseong turned his gaze back to the river.
“I suppose I’ll have to let her get some fresh air this time.”
Sa Dobin fell into brief contemplation. Though he was one of the greatest minds in the Demonic Cult, he always made careful judgments—even if it was a decision made by the Heavenly Demon himself. It was precisely this open and serious approach that allowed him to uphold his weighty position as the Chief Military Strategist.
Soon, Sa Dobin spoke.
“You’ve made a wise decision. Sooner or later, this was something she had to experience.”
He added one more thing.
“Bi seol is much more thoughtful than she appears. There shouldn’t be any major issues.”
“That’s what worries me even more. If she were just a reckless child, I’d have fewer concerns.”
The real trouble was just beginning.
“She says she wants to earn her own money.”
“Hahaha.”
Sa Dobin laughed heartily. Given Bi seol’s usual mischievous antics and outlandish ideas, it was hardly surprising. The thought of the Demonic Cult Leader’s daughter descending into the mundane world to make money was simply absurd.
“Hm… Once she’s down there, she’ll be running wild in her pursuit of wealth. Where would be best?”
After a moment of thought, Sa Dobin answered decisively.
“There are two places that come to mind. First, Guizhou. We hold eighty percent of the power there, and neither the Justice Alliance nor the Dark Alliance has much influence. No matter what trouble she causes, we can clean it up easily. It’s a very safe option.”
Bi Unseong nodded silently.
Strangely, even the assurance of safety didn’t make him look entirely satisfied.
Sa Dobin continued.
“The second option is Gansu. This is where both our sect and the Heretical Alliance have the weakest presence. The area is primarily controlled by the Gongtong Sect, but external forces such as the Tang Clan, Xinjiang, and Qinghai are all eyeing it, hoping to establish a foothold. Furthermore, mid-sized sects like the Hundred Flowers Clan and the Myriad Beasts Sect have a strong influence there. Compared to Guizhou, it will be at least ten times harder for her to settle down.”
“And yet, you’re recommending Gansu?”
“If you’re truly sending Bi seol down to experience the Jianghu properly, I assume you’d want her to face real challenges. That is, of course, under the condition that someone absolutely trustworthy accompanies her to ensure her safety.”
“Hahaha.”
Bi Unseong burst into a hearty laugh, and Sa Dobin felt inwardly satisfied.
For a strategist, the greatest joy was reading their lord’s heart correctly.
“Then who should I send with her?”
Bi Unseong’s concern brought a slight smile to Sa Dobin’s face.
This was about his precious daughter, Biseol. No doubt, Bi Unseong had already made up his mind about whom to send. Sa Dobin had a good idea of who that person was. There was only one individual who had earned the Heavenly Demon’s absolute trust in recent times.
Even so, Sa Dobin feigned ignorance and tossed out a different name.
“The Fist Demon is due to descend soon.”
“He drinks too much. No.”
“Then the Demon Sword…”
“He’s too bloodthirsty. He’d be a disaster waiting to happen… No.”
“The Phantom God Demon?”
“Just between us… don’t you think he’s a bit too stiff?”
As Sa Dobin prepared to suggest another name, Bi Unseong raised a hand to stop him.
“Enough of this game.”
Sa Dobin smiled as he bowed respectfully.
“My apologies. I will summon the Black Wind Commander immediately upon his return.”
“He’s away?”
“Yes. He’s on a mission.”
“Tough work in this heat.”
Bi Unseong looked up at the sky, his expression turning serious.
“If I send Biseol down… will they make a move?”
Sa Dobin’s gaze followed the Heavenly Demon’s to the drifting clouds.
After a brief silence, he answered calmly.
“They have already begun moving.”
“I see.”
With that, Bi Unseong fell silent, and Sa Dobin bowed respectfully before taking his leave.
“Then, I shall take my leave.”
“Good work.”
Even after Sa Dobin departed, Bi Unseong remained still, watching the river in silence.
Then, a voice came from the void. It was Yun Maksoo , the Red Tiger Division Commander.
“What is it about the Black Wind Commander that you find so appealing?”
“For one, he’s gentle. When I look at him, I remember my younger days. And his name—Yuwol. After dealing with nothing but brutal men, even his name sounds pleasant.”
Yun Maksoo cautiously spoke.
“May I say something?”
Bi Unseong coldly refused.
“Don’t.”
He already knew what Yun Maksoo was about to say. Lately, there had been murmurs that he was showing too much favor to the Black Wind Commander.
“…My apologies for speaking out of turn.”
Bi Unseong called his name warmly.
“Maksoo.”
He rarely used such a familiar tone, only when speaking sincerely.
“Yes.”
“Among the Demon Lords, the strongest is the Demon Sword, right? If he and that kid fought, who do you think would win?”
“Probably the Demon Sword. He’s relentless.”
“But if you had to bet your life on the outcome… where would you place your life?”
“……”
“If the Cult were destroyed and you had to escape first, who would you entrust your family to?”
“……”
“If you were dying… who would you want by your side?”
“……”
“…So let them have some favour. And tell those envious bastards to shut up.”
Near Heishan, Guangxi Province
The front gate of the Liu Family Manor creaked open halfway.
Through the narrow gap, a hand suddenly thrust out, dropping something outside.
Thud.
It was the severed head of a young man, his eyes rolled back in death.
As the gate closed again, one of the black-clad warriors swiftly retrieved the head and stepped back.
The scene was grim—martial artists dressed in dark uniforms surrounded the Liu Family Manor’s walls, while twenty corpses, clearly their fallen comrades, lay neatly lined up to the side.
The severed head was handed to Zheng Ji, the head of the Heishan Branch of the Demonic Cult.
Zheng Ji’s expression twisted as he examined it.
“Who is it this time?”
Before the man delivering the head could respond, a middle-aged woman rushed forward, grabbed the lifeless head, and wailed in grief.
“Oh no! Jombok, my son! How could you die like this? What cruel fate is this? Jombok—!”
Her cries echoed through the tense air. Two warriors gently pulled her aside.
Li Yan, the deputy leader of the branch, leaned in and whispered to Zheng Ji.
“We must go in now, even if it means taking risks. Four hostages have already been killed.”
Zheng Ji shook his head firmly.
“No! Even if it means abandoning Master Liu, I will not allow any more of our people to die.”
Earlier that morning, twenty of their warriors had entered the manor to suppress the intruders, only to be slaughtered.
Li Yan sighed, understanding Zheng Ji’s reluctance. Even if they launched a full-scale attack, there was no guarantee they could defeat the enemy.
Zheng Ji’s voice rose in frustration.
“Why the hell are those lunatics looking for the Black Wind Lord? If they want to die, they should go find him themselves instead of causing havoc in my territory!”
The crisis had begun with what seemed like an insignificant report that morning.
The message stated that intruders had stormed the home of Master Liu, the head of the Liu Trading Company—one of the Heishan Branch’s primary financial backers—and taken hostages.
At the time, Zheng Ji hadn’t been too concerned.
He assumed it was the work of ignorant rogue martial artists who had no idea that the Demonic Cult was backing the Liu Trading Company.
So, he sent twenty men with a simple order—slaughter those bastards and bury them.
But just half an hour later, a new report arrived.
A thunderbolt from a clear sky—his twenty warriors had been annihilated.
After gathering the remaining forces and rushing to the scene, Zheng Ji had confirmed three key facts.
First, their enemy was the notorious Seven Killers of Chongqing, infamous figures in the martial world. While they had a fearsome reputation, Zheng Ji couldn’t understand why they had chosen now, of all times, to launch an attack, as if they had bet their lives in a drunken wager.
Second, if the situation worsened, he might lose his position as branch leader. With barely fifty warriors under his command and nearly half already dead, it was not an unfounded fear.
Lastly, the attackers were searching for the Black Wind Lord. Until he arrived, they planned to kill a hostage at regular intervals.
“But were those bastards always this strong?”
Zheng Ji couldn’t wrap his head around it.
He had thought twenty warriors would at least inflict some damage, even if they couldn’t fully subdue the Seven Killers.
Yet, not a single enemy had even been injured.
Creeeak.
The gate opened again.
Thud.
Another severed head rolled onto the ground, and wails of grief erupted anew. Family members who had just arrived upon hearing the news collapsed in sorrow.
“Sir, please save my son! Please, I beg you! Sangman, my son!”
A middle-aged woman clutched Zheng Ji’s robes, sobbing uncontrollably.
Annoyed and frustrated, Zheng Ji scowled.
“You think I don’t want to save them?”
Warriors came and dragged the grieving woman away.
It was maddening.
“When is the Black Wind Lord arriving?”
Zheng Ji’s impatience grew.
Li Yan glanced down the mountain path and answered.
“He completed his mission in Shichen and departed for here. He should be arriving any moment now.”
“Damn it. By the time he gets here, everyone will be dead.”
“Still, why are the Seven Killers looking for him?”
“How the hell should I know?”
Li Yan’s voice lowered with concern.
“…Will he really come?”
Zheng Ji hesitated, his own doubts surfacing.
“Wouldn’t he?”
“The Black Wind Unit is the most elite force in the cult, second only to the Iron Cavalry. And he became its leader at an unprecedentedly young age.”
“How old was he then?”
“Twenty-seven. That was five years ago, so he’s thirty-two now.”
“A brat’s been leading the unit for five years already?”
Zheng Ji scowled.
At forty-seven, he was still stuck as a mere branch leader, and even that position was in jeopardy.
“Shit. He has to come… Hey, quiet them down!”
Frustrated, Zheng Ji stomped his foot.
Just then, one of his subordinates called out in relief.
“There! He’s coming!”
All eyes turned to the path leading up from the valley.
Thudududu!
A group of riders galloped forward, kicking up a cloud of dust.
“It’s the Black Wind Unit!”
Excited murmurs spread among the Heishan warriors.
The Black Wind Unit—one of the Demonic Cult’s most elite forces, rivaled only by the Iron Cavalry—was both feared and revered.
Thudududu!
Twenty riders, aligned in two rows, thundered along the road.
“Huh?”
Zheng Ji and his men watched in shock.
The Black Wind Unit did not stop.
They rode straight past them.
Only one rider broke away from the group, galloping up the mountain path toward them.
All eyes focused on him.
The lone warrior reined in his horse in front of the Liu Family Manor.
He dismounted.
It was the man Zheng Ji had been desperately waiting for—Yuwol, the Black Wind Lord.
Dressed in a black martial robe layered with a flowing black overcoat, he exuded an eerie darkness.
His gaze was icy, his presence oppressive, and the scar on his left cheek only heightened his intimidating aura.
On his back hung a massive saber, secured without even a scabbard.
A single engraved word glinted on the darkened steel—Narak.
The saber Narakdo, the very weapon that made Yuwol a nightmare to the martial world.
“Draw the blade, and in seven moves, your soul descends to hell.”
Thus, he was known as Seven-Move Narak.
Recognizing the weapon, Zheng Ji rushed over hastily.
“I am Zheng Ji, the branch leader of Heishan.”
He bowed deeply.
“What’s the situation?”
Yuwol’s voice was curt.
Technically, the rank difference between a branch leader and a unit commander was marginal.
But as the leader of the Black Wind Unit, one of the cult’s most powerful forces, Yuwol wielded authority that far outstripped Zheng Ji’s.
Damn, he’s as cold as the rumors say.
Zheng Ji forced a smile and quickly explained.
“The Seven Killers of Chongqing have taken over the Liu Family Manor and are holding hostages.”
“And?”
“They’re demanding to see you. There are about twenty hostages, and so far, they’ve executed—huh?”
Before he could finish his sentence, Yuwol had already shattered the manor’s gate.
