Only a cold, half-emptied bottle of liquor remained where the Blood Demon had been.

The shattered remnants of the cup, ground to powder, slowly filtered through the cracked seams of the wooden table.

By the time Seop Mugwang arrived, all that powder had already sifted away, leaving only faint traces behind.

The Blood Demon had long vanished. A few patrons had returned to refill the vacated seats, and the cold sweat that had once streamed down their backs had long since dried.

“Sorry, kid. I have to go.”

Seolhwa looked up at Seop Mugwang.

There was an urgency in his expression that left no room for doubt.

He was so pressed for time, he did not even notice the bottle on the table.

“Come on.”

Pulling a silver coin from his robe, Seop Mugwang set it on the table and, without hesitation, lifted Seolhwa into his arms.

He noticed, briefly, how cold her body had become—but there was no time to dwell on it. Without pause, he launched into lightness arts and darted straight for the Namgoong estate.

They headed directly to Seolhwa’s residence.

As soon as they arrived and he set her down, Seop Mugwang turned to leave.

But Seolhwa grabbed his hand.

“Please tell me. What happened?”

His expression stiffened. He hesitated for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh and opened his mouth.

“The subordinates I had stationed on a mission have returned. Without so much as a word of warning.”

The strange presence he had felt earlier—it had belonged to them. His own subordinates. But their presence here in Habi should have been impossible.

“They were the ones investigating the Hwaoru.”

“...!”

Not long ago, they had sent word that they had uncovered key information hidden by the Hwaoru.

They were supposed to continue gathering intelligence, and once the picture became clearer, Seop Mugwang himself was to join them.

But instead, they had returned to the estate. No notice. No messenger. No explanation.

“I have to find out what happened.”

If it was merely a mistake—a miscommunication in the middle ranks that made them believe they’d been recalled—then it was a simple matter.

But if it was not...

“I want to come with you.”

“No.”

“I will just watch. From a distance.”

Seop Mugwang frowned.

Though he had explained the matter involved the Hwaoru, it was too dangerous to bring a child into.

But Seop Mugwang knew Seolhwa well.

‘If I tell her no, she will sneak in behind me.’

That would be far more dangerous. And he did not have the time to chase her down later.

“Then stay with your guard. If you swear not to come within ten zhang, I will allow it.”

“I promise.”

“Tenhojeon.”

With that, Seop Mugwang vanished.

“Ryeong.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Ryeong was already standing behind her.

“Let us go.”

Tap, tap tap.

Seolhwa and Ryeong followed behind him, heading for Tenhojeon. But as they reached the wall surrounding the hall, they stopped.

Below them, at the foot of the Tenhojeon stairs, in the center of the courtyard—

Five figures stood, straw hats pulled low over their heads, ragged robes draped over their shoulders.

They were surrounded by members of the Black Dragon Division, while Namgoong Mucheon and several of the division heads stood midway up the steps of Tenhojeon.

Seop Mugwang stood at the base of the stairs, directly facing the five.

To keep her word—stay at least ten zhang away—Seolhwa remained atop the wall in silence, watching.

Seop Mugwang’s voice rang out.

“Why have you returned without a single communication? I never gave the order for your return.”

One of the five stepped forward.

He raised the edge of his straw hat and spoke.

“You did not. But we were ordered to halt the investigation and come back. That order came from the division head himself. Did it not?”

“Who told you that? When did I ever issue such an order?”

“We were given that command. Clearly. Here—we even have proof.”

The man pulled something from his robe and extended it toward Seop Mugwang. As Seop approached to receive it—

Schlak!

“!”

The man flung a powder toward him.

Chaang!

Almost simultaneously, he drew his sword—and Namgoong Mucheon stepped in to block the blade with his scabbard.

“Kh... My apologies.”

Seop Mugwang fell back.

“It’s poison powder.”

Kaang!

Namgoong Mucheon struck back, and the man stumbled, unable to withstand even a single blow.

With the metallic ring of drawn blades, the Black Dragon Division unsheathed their swords in unison.

The courtyard below echoed with the sharp chorus of steel.

In that moment, Seop Mugwang had already neutralized the poison and stepped forward once more.

He, too, had drawn his sword.

“What do you think you’re doing? Did you believe something this pathetic would accomplish anything?”

Beneath the straw hat, the man’s eyes shimmered with murderous light.

The rest of the five—all Seop Mugwang’s own subordinates—had likewise drawn their swords. Their killing intent saturated the air.

Seop Mugwang looked around at them.

“Even now, throw down your blades and explain yourselves. If you do, I will consider this incident settled—”

“Why... did you abandon us?”

“...What?”

Seop Mugwang’s expression hardened.

The man at the front threw off his straw hat.

Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd.

His scalp was riddled with scars—as if his head had been cracked open and stitched back together again and again.

“We asked. Again and again, we asked to come back. We begged to stop...! You cast us into hell...! Why did you never come?”

His voice trembled with anguish. Every word soaked in resentment.

“If you had only been there, Division Head...! If you had only come... we... we might’ve...!”

The other four removed their straw hats as well.

Plop. Plop. One by one, the hats hit the ground. Each time, another breath caught in the crowd.

They looked just like the first—scarred and broken.

“...What happened to you?”

“The clan cannot defeat them. The Hwaoru... that place is—”

The Bipung Division member began to tremble.

“That place... it is a den of demons...”

The others, too, began to shake.

As if consumed by fear, their faces drained of all color.

“That place is... hell, Division Head.”

“First, get treatment from the Medical Hall. We can talk more after—”

“...Forgive us.”

In that instant, the five Bipung members lunged toward Seop Mugwang and the Black Dragon Division.

Combat erupted in a flash.

“Graaaah!”

These men were once counted among the elite swordsmen of the clan.

Though the Black Dragon Division was powerful, they were no match.

A single blade from a Bipung swordsman sliced through a Black Dragon member, and blood splashed across the ground.

Before the fallen man’s body even hit the floor, three nearby Black Dragon members rushed in.

Two swung their swords; one closed in, aiming to restrain.

“Do not kill them!”

Seop Mugwang shouted.

The man about to tackle paused instinctively—frozen mid-motion.

Do not kill?

They had attacked their own brothers within the clan—and yet?

The confusion barely had time to register. At the ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ same moment he turned to glance at Seop Mugwang, a sword from the Bipung member—who had already cast off the others’ blades—slashed toward his throat.

Shhhk—

“!”

The Black Dragon warrior looked down in terror at the blade halted just above his collarbone.

It hovered there, close enough to press against his trembling throat.

Something fell beside him with a soft thud.

Rolling across the ground—it was the head of the Bipung swordsman who had aimed at him.

His eyes had not even fully closed before death took him.

His azure robe fluttered in the wind.

“Ghh!”

“Ah...”

“Ugh...”

One by one, the heads of the remaining Bipung swordsmen fell.

Namgoong Mucheon had dispatched all four in an instant.

Only one remained now—locked in a standoff with Seop Mugwang.

“Brother!”

Seop Mugwang shouted, nearly a scream.

Anyone could see it—their condition, their minds... His men had been broken by the Hwaoru.

Whatever they had endured, they were not traitors. They would never betray the Namgoong Clan.

They had to be subdued first. Then questioned. Then judged.

So why... why kill them without even asking?

Why?

“Kill him. There is no time. If you do not, I will.”

“Brother...”

“...Kill me.”

With trembling eyes, Seop Mugwang looked at the last of his men.

The swords between them met—locked—and beyond the steel, the man raised his head.

His eyes were twisted in grief.

“The clan head is right...”

Blood-tears spilled down his cheeks.

Sorrow, rage, terror, agony—every emotion bled from him.

“Please... do it. Division Head...”

“...You...”

“I do not have much time left. So...”

Not much time?

What did he mean?

But the answer revealed itself quickly.

“Khk...”

The man’s energy wavered, then began to surge violently.

Like gunpowder seconds before ignition.

“D-Division Head...”

“!”

His sword hand, his arm—his whole body trembled. The veins in his eyes burst red.

Blood streamed down his face, and his veins bulged grotesquely beneath his skin.

His body swelled, as if filled with air—ready to rupture at a touch.

“I... I do not want to die...”

Spllaaash—

A spray of blood—deep red, almost black—splattered across Seop Mugwang’s face.