Chapter 33

“Gu-Hyung, I have something to discuss with you.”

“What’s the matter? Speak, junior brother.”

This happened shortly after Yang-hwi, who had joined the Eumhu scouting party, returned to Baek Manor from Gokyeol Mountain and requested a private conversation.

At that time, Gu-Ak was genuinely enjoying a very fulfilling life.

When he first gave up his status as a direct member of the Honggyo Sect and became a vassal of Baek Manor, he had felt a bit ashamed and awkward.

But now? His days were spent strolling around Akan-hyeon, intervening when thugs harassed commoners—his personal creed of “one good deed a day.” His nights, meanwhile, were filled with the warmth of his beloved. Life had never tasted so sweet.

It would have been strange not to feel content.

‘Hehehe… One good deed a day, huh? A much nobler title than “Blood Axe.” And now I even have a fancy title—Rehabilitation Overseer? This has to be the most successful reformation from the dark path anyone’s ever seen.’

Yes, Gu-Ak had been at peace lately.

And that peace was his undoing.

“Gu-Hyung, you know I trust you deeply, right?”

“You’re buttering me up—must be a big ask. Hahaha! Go on, spill it, junior brother.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

With a rare, overly formal gesture of respect, Yang-hwi continued.

“My father… the head of the main house, is planning to enter closed-door training soon. While he’s away, would you assist Steward Han in handling the internal affairs of Baek Manor?”

Gu-Ak’s eyes widened slightly.

Even though he had turned over a new leaf, entrusting the management of the family’s internal affairs to a former dark path warrior?

He glanced toward Baek Mu-ryang, who was seated nearby.

The old man gave a small nod.

“I’ve been worried about issues arising while I’m away. When Hwi suggested you as the Rehabilitation Overseer, it seemed like a solid idea.”

“You are someone I trust in both skill and character, Gu-Hyung!”

Gu-Ak beamed. Truthfully, when he abandoned his past and chose to become a vassal, he had worried. But now, being recognized like this—it made his shoulders rise with pride.

“If the family head commands it, I, Gu-Ak, shall obey! By the way, it seems you’ve made a breakthrough, sir.”

Baek Mu-ryang smiled warmly.

“During my recent training, I glimpsed the edge of enlightenment. That’s why I’m entering seclusion—to stabilize it.”

The newly inherited martial arts of Baek Manor—Heavenly Harmony Art and Heaven-Shrouding 108 Sword—were so profound they could be considered peerless.

In mere days since he’d begun learning them, Baek Mu-ryang was already approaching the realm of first-class masters. A feat that would’ve been impossible without such extraordinary techniques.

“Congratulations on your achievement, my lord!”

“Thank you. So, will you accept the request?”

“Of course! Though I worry whether I’ll do well. Is there no one more qualified, sir?”

As Gu-Ak hesitated, Yang-hwi quickly stepped in.

“No need to worry. Steward Han will only assign you tasks you can handle.”

“Oh, in that case...”

“And there are a few external contracts the family head has to fulfill. They’ll involve physical work—you might actually prefer those.”

“Ah, that’s more my speed. I’ll trust you, junior brother!”

It sounded simple enough.

At the time, Gu-Ak truly thought so.

‘Damn it, should I just run away!?’

To be fair, Baek Mu-ryang and Yang-hwi hadn’t lied.

Steward Han really did only assign him manageable tasks.

The problem was—there were so many of them that his spirit was starting to break.

And the external contracts he thought would be easier?

“Escort Gu-Ak. Good to see you again.”

“…”

Baek Manor had been maintaining its wealth through outside commissions taken on by Baek Mu-ryang.

Naturally, most of these commissions involved acting as a bodyguard, since Baek Mu-ryang was a master of the second rank.

“Escort Gu-Ak, I plan to visit the Hoyoungru Pavilion today.”

The client before him, his assignment for the day—

A young merchant who, until recently, had groveled before Gu-Ak when he was still the master of Hoyoungru Pavilion and a direct member of the Honggyo Sect.

Now their positions were reversed.

“Escort Gu-Ak? You seem upset. Would you prefer to rest today?”

The client asked with careful politeness. Even if their statuses had changed, no one dared to speak down to a first-class warrior.

But Gu-Ak was burning with shame at the entire situation.

“…It’s fine.”

‘No, it’s not fine! My pride is in the dirt!’

…But he couldn’t say that in front of the client paying him.

****

That night, long after sunset, Gu-Ak stormed into Steward Han’s quarters.

“Steward Han! I can’t take it anymore! Why do I have to be doing bodyguard work!?”

Even at the late hour, Steward Han was still poring over documents. He calmly pushed up his glasses.

“Because we need the money.”

“But doesn’t Baek Manor have its own businesses now!?”

After the Dark Path War, Baek Manor had acquired three new businesses, including an inn and a tavern.

They weren’t some minor family anymore.

“Hoyoungru Pavilion alone should be bringing in enough money to cancel minor contracts like this! I know how much silver it generates!”

Gu-Ak fumed in frustration, but Chief Han looked at him like he was being ridiculous.

“It’s all wrecked.”

“What?”

“Hoyoungru Pavilion? After that chaos, do you think any furniture or decor survived? The bloodstains are so bad, we need to rip out the entire flooring. And that all costs money.”

Steward Han’s calm voice gradually rose.

“And now you want to pay breach-of-contract fees? Then bring me the silver! Ugh, no matter how I crunch the numbers, we’re short!”

Sure, Baek Manor was now poised for immense future profits.

But in the present, they needed funds just to get back on their feet.

“Ever since Hwi came along, I haven’t had to worry about money! But then we invested in the White Scroll Merchant House—and before that, even paid off, all this happened. Hoyoungru Pavilion alone cost us two thousand nyang in silver… and you were the one who painted it red! You did this, Rehabilitation Overseer!”

…Gu-Ak had no choice but to quietly exit the room.

It was hard. Lonely.

Frustration built in his chest, but there was no one he could vent it to.

‘I miss A-Rang.’

Gu-Ak made his way toward Baek-Ik Pavilion—now officially renamed the Rehabilitation Pavilion—the residence assigned to him.

There, he gently opened the door to the bedroom he shared with A-Rang.

“……”

She was sleeping soundly. A-Rang was a light sleeper; the moment he lay beside her, she would surely awaken.

Gu-Ak quietly closed the door and headed to another room.

It had already been several days since he’d slept beside her. His duties had him coming home far past bedtime every night, leaving him in a cold, empty bed.

The happy life he once lived—not long ago—with the beloved promised by Yang-hwi was now nowhere to be found.

‘This can’t go on. I have to find a solution.’

Baek Manor was flourishing. Growing rapidly.

Fueled by fertilizer named Gu-Ak.

…And if he didn’t want to be that fertilizer anymore, he needed to find another sacrifice.

He made up his mind.

‘I’ll give it everything I’ve got. I’ll reform the dark path bastards myself—shape them into trustworthy men, capable enough to dump all this work on!’

It was the moment when the infamous nightmare of Akan-hyeon was born—Gu-Ak, the Rehabilitation Pavilion Lord and enforcer of the creed “One Good Deed a Day.”

****

Taat—!

With a light leap, Yang-hwi launched toward the first wooden puppet.

As soon as his foot landed on a specific floorboard, the trap activated—sending the puppet’s arm swinging in a high strike.

Rather than ducking, Yang-hwi shifted his weight and grounded himself with focused force in his toes.

“North by northwest, pivot stance!”

The puppet’s fingertips brushed just past his hair.

Without even moving his upper body, he had changed his lower-body position and dodged the strike cleanly.

The trade-off? His posture was thrown off, and his step threatened to falter.

“Bend the knees—drive the right foot into the northwest point, push hard off the ground!”

He shouted the reasoning behind each move aloud—for the benefit of the person observing and listening from behind: Jegal Seolha.

Step by step, voice echoing through the passage, Yang-hwi advanced, clearing the 125th wooden puppet.

‘It’s pretty tricky without using inner power.’

He deliberately avoided using qi—because Jegal Seolha wouldn’t be able to replicate the technique otherwise. He adjusted every movement to match her untrained body and lack of cultivation.

‘It’s honestly impressive. This movement art is incredible.’

The puppets were swift and powerful—if one of their strikes connected, a small child would be flung 30 meters.

Logically, there was no way a fragile girl like Seolha could navigate through this.

And yet—

Dozens, hundreds of wooden puppets. Their placement and spacing followed a certain flow.

The flow itself—the form—held the deeper truth of martial philosophy. There was a mysticism to it that made the impossible, possible.

‘If I had to describe it, it’s like the wind. A gentle breeze one moment, a howling storm the next.’

Soft when needed. Fast when needed.

The secrets of gentleness and speed.

Even without knowing how to circulate inner energy through the art yet, Yang-hwi could tell—this technique alone, just the form, held promise.

If mastered, one could deny the enemy any chance to close distance.

‘No wonder Lady Eumhu is considered peerless when it comes to movement arts.’

The technique paired perfectly with Eumhu’s ranged sound-based attacks, allowing her to maintain distance at will.

With those thoughts, Yang-hwi cleared the final puppet and exited the corridor.

He then retraced his steps back—heading toward Jegal Seolha.

“What do you think, Samae?”

At Yang-hwi’s question, Jegal Seolha responded with a confident smile.

It had been exactly a week since she entered the martial hall.

It took her about five days to fully grasp the forms hidden within the puppet corridor’s movement art.

Then, for the last two days, Seolha had repeated those forms nonstop—reciting them again and again—for the sake of perfecting them for her one chance at success.

“I think I’m ready. Let’s move on to the next gate today.”

“Are you sure?”

“Even rat meat gets old after a while.”

With a clear, bright smile, Seolha stepped to the front of the passage, took a stance, and inhaled deeply.

Yang-hwi stood back, watching her silently.

‘She really believes she can clear it after just two days?’

The movement technique encoded within the puppet attacks was a highly refined martial form of ascension.

And she had learned every form in just two days?

“Haap!”

With a burst of energy, Seolha kicked off the ground.

Clang!

North-northwest step one. The puppet’s top strike barely missed, only brushing her long hair aside.

Clang!

The second strike followed instantly.

She bent her knees, crossed her legs, and had her right foot replace her left in the northwest position—regaining lost balance.

Then she launched herself again, twisting her body horizontally to slip past the third puppet’s high strike.

“Haap!”

Three steps northeast. One step southeast.

She spun her body, lowered her stance, and—

Five steps due north.

Yang-hwi let out a whistle as he watched her move through the corridor far more smoothly than expected.

‘She’s impressive… No, this is extraordinary talent. And to think this is the same girl who spent nearly three years in her father’s arms like a doll.’

Seolha had once lived with her spirit broken, like a marionette stripped of strings.

Now, she was radiating brilliance that made even the word “genius” feel inadequate.

Then again, in her previous life, Jegal Seolha had triggered a bloody catastrophe and earned the infamous title Soul-Enchanting Demon Queen.

Even if her descent into madness came from cultivating forbidden soul arts on top of her explosive fire-element body constitution—without the talent, such devastation would’ve been impossible.

“Sahyung!”

Finally reaching the end of the corridor, Seolha wiped the sweat from her face and waved both hands in the air.

“See that!? I told you I could do it! Ahahaha!”

Yang-hwi chuckled softly and, using inner energy, dashed straight through the puppet gauntlet to stand beside her.

“You did amazing, Samae. That talent of yours isn’t ordinary.”

“Hehe, well, I am a direct descendant of the great Jegal Clan, after all!”

“Shall we move on to the final gate? Or do you want to rest first?”

“Let’s go now!”

The two of them turned toward the far end of the passage.

The iron doors had already creaked open, revealing a pitch-black interior beyond.

“I wonder what the final trial will be.”

“Who knows?”

So far, they’d been tested on endurance, martial talent, musical skill, and the virtues of a sage.

All the bases seemed covered, making it hard to guess what was left.

“We’ll find out when we get there.”

“You sound just like when you said, ‘Seeing is believing,’ Sahyung.”

“Hey, come on. I already told you—I got hit on purpose because I didn’t want to walk all the way back.”

“Sure, sure. Everything you say is absolutely true!”

The two laughed as they stepped into the iron doorway.

As they entered, Yang-hwi instinctively tried to focus his vision by circulating internal energy to his eyes.

And then—he froze.

“Seolha?”

Her voice and presence had vanished.

Pitch-black. Not even a hand in front of his face was visible.

In that space, Yang-hwi stood completely alone.

Then—

“Forgive me, First Sword of the Inner Court.”

Words spoken on the final day of his previous life.

Yang-hwi now realized what the fifth and final trial was meant to test.

---The End Of The Chapter---

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