Tap-tap—!

Within the forest filled with nothing but darkness—

Seop Mugwang pushed aside the underbrush, gasping for breath as he ran.

Rustle— rustlerustle—

Ten black shadows pursued him from behind.

No matter how he tried to shake them off, the distance only continued to close.

Just as Seop Mugwang turned his head to check their position—

Crack!

A figure burst out from the brush to his right.

Whoosh—

An axe blade, the size of a human face, flew straight toward him.

Clang—!

Seop Mugwang deflected the axe and swung # Nоvеlight # his sword at the figure. But—

“Commander...”

“...!”

His blade came to a dead halt in front of the figure’s neck.

“Please... spare me...”

Tears streamed down from the bloodshot eyes of the figure.

“It hurts... it hurts!”

That face—was one of the Bipung Division members.

Someone who had once served under Seop Mugwang.

‘Damn it...!’

Tack— Thud—!

Instead of swinging his sword, Seop Mugwang kicked the figure away and used the force to propel himself forward once more.

Away from his subordinates. No—away from what used to be his subordinates.

“Commander...!”

“Mugwang... hyungnim...!”

“Save me...!”

What waited for Seop Mugwang at the crumbling pavilion were the Bipung Division members who had never made it back to the main house.

More precisely, it was the corpses of his subordinates—already dead.

Lost Souls.

Those who had lost their souls and moved only as bodies.

They were dead, yet still moved. Wailing endlessly in their voices from life.

They attacked Seop Mugwang using the martial arts they had wielded in life. And because they felt no pain, they did not hesitate even when slashed by blades or when their bones broke.

They were already dead.

There was no question they were dead.

“C-Com...mander... we... waited...”

“Are you truly... abandoning us...?”

Then why—why were they crying?

Why were they shedding tears?

Seop Mugwang could not bring himself to cut down his subordinates.

Even though he knew they were dead, every time he faced their tormented expressions, he hesitated.

Their cries, their voices of resentment—what if those were the words they wanted to say right before they died?

What if that resentment was directed at him?

“Com...man...der...!”

Whoosh— Clang-ching!

Two swords sprang out from both sides and crossed above Seop Mugwang’s head.

Slash—! Whoosh—

“Guhk...!”

Another blade slashed his back, and a flying dagger from somewhere tore into his arm.

Ching-ching—! Ching!

Seop Mugwang barely deflected the other daggers flying from different directions, and blood-slicked sweat dripped from his forehead.

Clang-kang—! Kang! Kaang!

The endless battle dragged on. And now, the smoke bomb that had exploded—perhaps it had poison mixed in—was interfering with his ability to control his inner energy.

Seop Mugwang knew he was being driven into a corner.

He knew it, and yet he could not strike.

That was when he remembered the pill Seolhwa had given him.

“Take this when you can no longer swing your sword.”

Twisting his body to barely dodge the blades pressing in from all sides, Seop Mugwang pulled out the pill from his robes.

Fearing he might drop it, he took the pill still wrapped in paper directly from his pouch and gripped it tightly in his hand.

“It is not medicine. It is poison.”

“...You want me to take poison?”

“I hope... you will not have to use it.”

The look on the girl’s face when she said that—was desperate.

With a truly desperate expression, she had handed him the poison pill.

She had never told him what kind of poison it was.

She said that if he knew what it was, he might not take it.

“This poison pill is both my best effort... and your last line of defense, Commander.”

“I want you to live. I want you to choose to survive.”

Seop Mugwang clenched the poison pill tightly.

Rustlerustle— rustle—

Feeling the presence drawing up right behind him, he shoved the paper-wrapped pill into his mouth.

The blood on his hand smeared across his nose, bringing with it a strong, metallic scent.

Wiping it away roughly with his sleeve, Seop Mugwang bit into the pill and chewed it.

Crunch— crunch—

“...!”

For an instant, the world spun, and his vision blurred.

His heart pounded rapidly, and a sharp, ringing tone filled his ears until they went numb. His breathing grew ragged.

Paradoxically, his senses became even sharper.

Beeeep—

It was a strange feeling.

As though he had taken a step away from the world.

Even the pain from the wounds he had sustained in battle now felt one step removed.

Clang—! Clang! Clank-clank...

Seop Mugwang instinctively deflected the oncoming attacks. As he twisted his body to counterstrike—

Thump.

Seop Mugwang’s pupils trembled.

What stood before him—what he was about to strike down with his sword—was no longer one of his subordinates.

Covered in hair, its face bulging with grotesque tumors, and with monstrous, unnatural eyes—it could no longer be seen as human.

A monster.

Hallucination.

Only then did Seop Mugwang realize the nature of the poison pill Seolhwa had given him.

A hallucinogenic and deliriant poison.

The kind used in torture or interrogation, designed to instill isolation and fear.

A poison that made humans appear as unspeakable horrors—and accompanied by a never-ending ringing in the ears until the effect wore off.

“...You little brat...”

This impudent disciple...

Thanks to the poison pill, the screams and suffering of his subordinates had vanished from view entirely.

What stood before Seop Mugwang now were nothing more than monsters.

Slaaash—!

Without hesitation, Seop Mugwang beheaded the creature.

****

Slaaash—! Kaang—!

The battle was fierce.

Under normal circumstances, Nomun would have stood no chance against Namgoong Mucheon—but with the Reversing Heaven Blood Flow Grand Art, he was managing to hold his own.

The blue energy of Namgoong and the red-tinted energy, now too corrupted to even be called Mount Hua’s, clashed in violent fury.

The collision of their power swept across the battlefield like a storm.

“Hmph!”

Elsewhere, Namgoong Mugang, having knocked back the Mount Hua elders’ blades with all his might, brought his weapon down on the back of the neck of the elder Seolhwa and Ryeong had been struggling against.

It was an opening barely created.

“Run now! You damn broomstick!”

Seolhwa and Ryeong gasped for breath, ragged and rough.

Namgoong Mugang was already facing the two other elders who had come at him again.

“These bastards are only targeting you! And that fake Daoist scum keeps firing off energy blasts whenever he gets the chance!”

Just as he said, Nomun, even while fighting Namgoong Mucheon, hurled waves of internal energy toward Seolhwa every time a gap opened.

Thankfully, Mucheon had blocked them all thus far—but because Nomun was targeting her, it was making things more difficult for him too.

And still, Mount Hua disciples—clearly under control—continued swarming toward her, and the number of those collapsed on the ground already numbered in the dozens.

Seolhwa scanned her surroundings.

Indeed, her presence here was putting everyone at risk.

If just one of Nomun’s blasts struck—

I cannot stay here.

“Go! We’ll handle this! Now!”

Tap—

Seolhwa turned and broke into a sprint.

Ryeong followed behind her.

But they had not gotten far when the two were forced to stop.

Blocking their path was a presence unlike the disciples that had rushed at them earlier.

To make matters worse, the person was one of Mount Hua’s elders. The only small relief was that he was merely at the Peak Realm.

“Go, my lady. I will take care of this one.”

Recognizing his cultivation, Ryeong stepped forward.

She was exhausted, and her body bore many wounds—but her expression showed not a trace of that fatigue. It was resolute.

“Go now. Hurry!”

The Mount Hua elder charged forward.

Ryeong met his sword, sparks flaring as their blades clashed.

With just a glance toward the two locked in combat, Seolhwa immediately bolted in the direction where no presence could be felt.

****

Huff, huff... huff...

Each staggering step felt heavier than any before.

Seop Mugwang forced himself to move forward, one step at a time, as his vision blurred.

The effect of the poison pill was wearing off.

His heightened senses were returning to normal, and his body began to crumble.

Strength drained from him. His mind grew hazy.

The faces of the subordinates he had cut down surfaced in his thoughts.

Even gripping his sword was now difficult—his hand trembled violently.

Huff... huff...

Blood dripped from his footsteps, leaving a trail behind him.

Rustle.

He felt a presence from ahead.

Lifting his blurred gaze, Seop Mugwang tried to look in that direction.

But he no longer had the strength to keep his head up—and so his gaze dropped.

Step.

Someone approached him.

****

Step.

Seolhwa stopped walking and looked straight ahead.

Standing before her was a woman dressed in ornate martial robes adorned with red, her waist-length hair tightly tied back.

The woman waved upon meeting Seolhwa’s gaze.

“Hello, little Tower Master.”

Seolhwa recognized her.

One of the Seven Blood Fangs, among the Twelve Moons of the Blood Demon Cult.

Huiwol.

“Well, what now? Looks like you were trying to run, but you ran into me instead? Ah, how pitiful.”

Tried to run—and got caught. By me, of all people.

So pitiful. So very pitiful.

With a sorrowful expression as if she had come across a stray, abandoned puppy, Huiwol repeatedly uttered the word "pitiful."

Seolhwa, watching her, slowly exhaled a long, steady breath.

“You want to fight me? In that beaten-up state? No no, that’s too sad.”

Instead of answering, Seolhwa undid her disheveled hair completely.

As her hair fell in soft waves, she swept it back—and a deep smile spread across her lips.

Even though she was clearly cornered, the bright smile she showed sent a chill down Huiwol’s spine.

“Did you know?”

Seolhwa spun her sword idly in her hand, checking the edge—and looked at Huiwol through the blade.

Still smiling.

“I’ve been wanting to see you.”

Huiwol.

“Truly.”

She was the very one who had killed Seop Mugwang in Seolhwa’s previous life.

The Moon.