IDMV 07

Chapter 07

I looked up, bewildered, at the owner of the voice.
The man released the hand that had been on my waist and brushed past me.
He wore a demon-faced mask over his face. Beneath it, a sharp jawline caught my attention.

“To think that the Patriarch of the Paryeong Sect, sworn to protect Cheonsan, would try to seize the essence of a divine practitioner. I suppose this is what they call heresy?”

The murderous aura radiating from him was far from ordinary.
Strangely, the figure didn’t feel unfamiliar.
If I could examine the contours beneath the mask closely, I might recognize him—but there was no time.

The Spirit-Absorbing Sword Master (Heukryeong Doma) had unleashed his techniques, drawing even on innate energy.

Spirit-Absorbing Sky-Cleaving Sword (Heukryeong Chamgongdo).
A technique that cuts a person and absorbs their vitality flew toward the demon-masked man.

As the strike of the Heukryeong Doma sliced through the air, the man was lightly standing on the back of the sword.
The energy from the sword could not penetrate him by even an inch.
The force radiating from the sword at his waist spread like ripples—cold, precise, and controlled.

His black hair fell like silk in the wind.
It was a level of mastery I couldn’t hope to match with my current inner power.

“To attempt a Spirit-Absorbing Strike against me… that was quite innovative.”

The Heukryeong Doma swung his sword to repel the demon-masked man.

Clang!
A sharp metallic sound struck my ears.

The demon-masked man had already leapt, meeting the Heukryeong Doma blade-to-blade.
A red energy flowed across the surface of the sword.
He twisted his grip, scraping the surface of the Heukryeong Doma’s blade.
With a kaga-gak, a crescent-shaped white scar appeared along the blade.

As the Heukryeong Doma withdrew his sword to block it, an opening appeared near his chest.
The deadly edge of the sword struck his chest.
It was like a flash of lightning falling from the sky.

Bang!
With just a single strike, the demon-masked man shattered the Heukryeong Doma’s shoulder bone, inflicting a lethal internal wound.

“Ughk!”
The Heukryeong Doma coughed up blood violently.

The sheer force and precision of his technique were overwhelming.

‘That martial art…’
If my information was correct, it was Cheonwol Gong (Heavenly Moon Technique).
The founder of the Cheonmu Sect, called the Celestial Demon, had developed it inspired by the moon’s reflection on a lake.
It was a secret technique that only the founder’s disciples could learn.

Now I understood. The man before us…

“Sa-Samgongja… Wi Cheonso?!”
The Heukryeong Doma looked up at his opponent with a trembling expression.

Wi Cheonso’s face was still hidden behind the mask, yet his presence alone was overwhelming.
Every detail of his body, clothing, shoes, and the jade plaque at his waist exuded perfection.
Even the blood spattering atop the fierce mask seemed to complete his imposing presence.

“Patriarch of Paryeong. You boldly commit corruption, yet still have the presence of mind to recognize me.”
Wi Cheonso twisted his lips and stepped forward toward the Heukryeong Doma.

The jade plaque at his waist trembled.
Seeing it, the Heukryeong Doma turned pale.

“The Celestial Sovereign commanded that no mercy be shown to heretics.”

The murderous aura in his voice was chilling.
The Heukryeong Doma braced against Wi Cheonso’s aura.
It was so intense it even affected me.

‘I need to get out of here.’

Yet my body did not obey.
My insides churned violently as if shaken to the core.
Was it the side effect of the time-stopping technique? My heart pounded rapidly.
My breathing was labored.

‘I can’t…’

Before I knew it, my body lost balance beyond my control.
The ground seemed to tilt diagonally, and Wi Cheonso, masked in shadow, appeared to be staring at me.
It felt as if his eyes beyond the mask were looking directly at me.

‘I need to go back…’

As soon as I thought that, darkness swallowed my vision.

❖ ❖ ❖

It was a rainy day.
While I was holed up in my study examining books about poisons, Baek-a came to me.

“Master, you’re here again?”
He approached and draped his long robe over my shoulders.

“Master, you must keep warm when it rains. You’ve suffered from wind-cold before, haven’t you?”

“I’m fine. You should wear this instead. The damp air could give you chills.”

“I’m fine. I’m at least ten times healthier than you.”

Baek-a’s clear eyes gazed at me warmly.

After becoming a martial arts recluse, my body had grown weaker, especially on rainy days. Today, of all days, I had caught a cold.
Baek-a had brewed medicinal herbs for me—herbs he had grown himself.

“Drink this; it will ease your cough.”

“…Alright. You should go back to your room and cover yourself. I don’t want you catching my cold by staying close.”

“Yes, I’ll leave soon.”

Baek-a sat across from me.
Perhaps it was the rhythmic sound of the rain, or the warm tea making me drowsy.
I leaned my head on the table and drifted off. Or at least, I thought I had.

Rustle.
I heard the sound of pages turning at a steady pace.

Had Baek-a not returned to his room yet?
He had never shown interest in books before.

Rustle.
Again, the soft turning of pages.

Was Baek-a actually reading? And in a book filled with technical terms?

I wanted to open my eyes to check, but my body wouldn’t respond.

The sound of pages turning stopped.

“I….”
Baek-a’s faint murmur tickled my ears.

“I hope the day comes when I can be honest in front of Master.”

His voice felt tinged with sadness.
I wanted to ask why he said that.

But when I suddenly opened my eyes, Baek-a’s figure had vanished.
Instead, a thinly draped bed appeared.
I had been dreaming.

‘Did Baek-a really say that?’
I was curious, but could no longer ask.
Baek-a had died ten years ago.

A wave of emptiness washed over me.
The pain in my chest reminded me of the weight of my grief.
I had been maintaining composure, but in truth, I was only holding on.

I cried, realizing for the first time that Baek-a was truly gone.
The thought that I would never hear his gentle voice again was heartbreaking.

Before the grief could fully fade, the unfamiliar feel of a bed beneath me reminded me of reality.

‘Where am I…?’
This was not my quarters.

‘I met the Eleven Form, left Sohongru, and then got caught by the Heukryeong Doma…’

Someone must have brought my collapsed body here.

A chill ran down my spine.

‘How much time has passed?’

I carefully sat up.
My heart, which had raced after the time-stopping incident, was now relatively calm.
Still, my body felt weak from the aftermath.

At that moment, I noticed a stranger sitting quietly, observing me.

A man, as if stepped out of a painting, sat on the bench, arms resting, watching me.

‘Who?’

If a famous painter tried to depict a perfect man, this would be it.
His tightly woven muscles left no gap, and the luxurious red robe across his broad shoulders accentuated his magnificent presence.
Beneath his loose hair, his blood-red eyes glimmered with a vivid light.

‘Those red eyes…’
I had seen them when I sank into the deep water.
While the body could change with martial arts, such clear crimson was rare.

He was Samgongja, Wi Cheonso.

“Have you finished crying?”
Wi Cheonso, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.
His voice was polite yet cold, unlike someone called a ruthless killer.

I wiped my tears with the sleeve, a little embarrassed.

“…Excuse me.”

In the demonic sect, the master is the only one under heaven and is called the Celestial Sovereign (Cheonjon).
His disciples also hold positions no one dares challenge. Wi Cheonso was no exception.

If I raised my head incorrectly, my neck could be cut.

I quickly bowed and reached for my crimson robe—but my fingers grasped nothing. It seemed to have been removed.

Immediately, I checked my left arm. Thankfully, no changes had occurred.

“But who is this young master?”
I asked cautiously, pretending not to know him.

Wi Cheonso smirked, adjusted his posture, and sat upright.

“Little one, we are not meeting for the first time, are we?”