CHAPTER 49: TIME TO MEET THE FAMILY (1)

Sword Empress’s POV

Thud!

"What did you just say?"

"Haha! Oops, my mistake. It’s Dan Yuseong. Yes. Just a slip-up."

He waved his hands hurriedly, making excuses, but the damage was done. I’d heard it clearly. Not "Dan Yuseong," but "Yuseong Dan." The reversal hung in the air like a poorly veiled lie, unraveling the fragile certainty I’d clung to.

"..."

"Why... why are you staring at me like that?"

Now that I thought about it, something felt off. His dantian was indeed destroyed—I could sense the void in his core, a hollow echo where qi should flow. But wasn’t there more to the sin Soyeon committed against him? In a way, it was an even greater crime than shattering his dantian, yet he hadn’t mentioned it once. Not a whisper of that deeper violation, the one that twisted the knife beyond physical ruin.

"Are you... really the Dan Yuseong I know?"

As suspicion took root, everything started to feel dubious. No matter how much time had passed, innate bone structure couldn’t be helped. Could a child like that, unable to train in martial arts, grow into such a robust young man? The frame before me carried the subtle marks of hardship, but not the frailty I’d etched into memory—a boy too delicate for the world’s cruelties.

"Then are you saying I’m lying, Sword Empress?"

"Sword Empress... I only told you I was Han Soyeon’s master—I don’t recall mentioning my title..."

"...Tch!"

Even a similar face wasn’t solid proof. After all, my memory of him was from ten years ago. A child not yet at the age of discretion—ten years could change a face plenty. And the Central Plains weren’t exactly small. If you wanted to find someone with a similar face, you could. Impostors had crossed my path before, shadows mimicking light.

"...Look here. I have a question."

"Y-You don’t have the right to question—"

Slash.

A mark appeared on the wall beside him, my blade’s whisper carving a shallow furrow in the wood. The air hummed with restrained menace.

"Do you think I haven’t encountered a single impostor in ten years?"

"I-Impostor?! What are you talking about?!"

"Right. I didn’t suspect you because you knew so much. The impostors I’d met just made up stories on the spot and got caught."

Han Soyeon’s name. The fact that she destroyed a child’s dantian. Knowing that, I naturally assumed he was that child. It had aligned too neatly, a puzzle snapping into place. But now, cracks spiderwebbed through the facade.

"My question. Tell me everything my disciple, Han Soyeon, did to Dan Yuseong."

Anxiety flooded his expression. I could practically feel him racking his brain, eyes darting as fragments of rehearsed lore surfaced.

"Sh-She destroyed his dantian."

"Is that all?"

"Sh-She assaulted him?"

"Let me ask again. Is that all?"

Confusion crossed his face. He didn’t know anything beyond that, did he? The deeper horror—the attempted violation, the monstrous intimacy inflicted on a boy too young to comprehend—eluded him entirely.

"...Ha."

He wouldn’t know. If he didn’t, he couldn’t even guess. That was only natural. He’d never imagine that the Sword Flower, renowned for her beauty and kindness, had tried to assault a boy barely old enough to reason.

’...Soyeon... What in the world...’

...The problem was that she actually did it. The truth I’d buried, a stain no amount of atonement could bleach.

"Which faction are you from? What’s your purpose in doing this?"

I was certain he was a spy from another group. Unfortunately, his failure to get the name right had exposed him, but even that showed how deeply he’d infiltrated Huashan. The fact that Soyeon had destroyed a boy named Dan Yuseong’s dantian was known to some, whispered in shadowed halls. But her attempt to assault him was known only to a select few. It was a deed so vile that, as a Taoist and a human, I couldn’t even bring myself to record it with my own hand.

"..."

"If you won’t speak, I’ll guess for you."

I pointed my sword at him and spoke, the blade steady as my voice.

"The Blood Cult?"

A strange glint flickered in his eyes—subtle, but unmistakable. Recognition, perhaps? Or calculation?

Vampires. True to their moniker "Nobles of the Night," they were mostly fiercely prideful. Unless bound by blood as kin, they rarely trusted others, exhibiting a strong selfish streak. The heroes who fought in the war against the undying all evaluated vampires this way. They said that if the vampires had been just a bit smarter and united among themselves, the living might not have won that war.

Mardyn’s POV

"Karel!! Karel!! Answer me!!"

In an underground lair in Anhui, a vampire named Mardyn shouted into a black crystal orb. It was a communication technology from another world, unknown to the Central Plains—sleek obsidian etched with runes that pulsed faintly under duress.

"Answer me already!! This is urgent!!"

When no light appeared in the orb, Mardyn shouted again, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls like a trapped beast’s roar. Perhaps his noise pollution worked—after a moment, the orb lit up with an ethereal glow, and another man’s voice came through, laced with irritation.

"...You’re loud. Unlike you, I’m not idle enough to sit around clinging to a crystal orb all day, Mardyn."

"Wh-What?! You think I’m idle?!"

"Then are you busy? While we’re out scouring this world for information and securing knights’ corpses, you’re just sitting underground making grunts—I don’t think you’re that busy."

"Argh!! I took this role because of Lord Varstein’s orders, not because I lack ability!"

"Sure. Let’s say that’s true."

A sigh echoed from the other side of the orb, heavy with the weight of centuries-old disdain.

"So, why’d you contact me? Hurry up and say it so we can cut this off. Even these primitives have eyes and ears."

"R-Right. What did you do?! ’The Shining Mountain’ is your territory, isn’t it?!"

After Varstein crossed into the Central Plains through the Blood Cult’s ritual, he analyzed the method and periodically summoned the vampires who’d once served him. He assigned tasks and issued orders based on their abilities. Those like Mardyn, with lesser skills, were given less challenging and less critical roles—producing expendable troops for later use. Those capable of disguise, transformation, and illusion, who could blend into human society, were tasked with securing the corpses of high-level martial artists from across the Central Plains and sending them to advanced research facilities.

And Karel’s domain was none other than Huashan. He wasn’t the only vampire infiltrating Huashan, but infiltrating one of the Nine Great Sects spoke volumes about his skill—slipping through veils of qi and suspicion like smoke through fingers.

"Right. What’s the problem? Begging for corpses again like last time?"

"No, that’s not it!! A Sword Master from your territory came here!!"

"...Hold on."

Karel’s cold, indifferent tone shifted abruptly, sharpening like a blade drawn in the dark.

"...I see. She was deep in the mountains, so I hadn’t paid her much mind, but there’s a trace of her leaving."

"Isn’t it your job to notice that and warn me in advance?!"

"Damn it. Even I can’t control everything here. Do you know what it’s like working in the same guild as Sword Masters? One slip, and it’s over!"

"There’s a Sword Master above my lab right now!"

Such bickering was routine for vampires. No matter how bound they were by their lord’s orders, their sky-high pride meant they’d never bow to anyone but the lord himself. It simmered in every exchange, a powder keg of egos barely contained.

"...Sigh. Calm down. What matters now is figuring out why she went your way."

"D-Don’t tell me she’s after me?"