A tense silence stretched on, and by the time nearly one gak had passed, the screams from Cheongho Dojang suddenly stopped.
Seon Jiun turned his head sharply, shock written across his face.
"No way…"
The thought in his mind was so absurd he couldn't even speak it aloud. But what else could it mean, when the clash of weapons, shouts, and cries had all vanished?
The battle was over—and the outcome was clear. A one-sided victory.
Not only Seon Jiun, but the fifty others with him all went pale. Among them, a house servant muttered under his breath:
"So this is the Demonic Cult's Cheonrangdae…"
The words slipped out and faded into the night.
From inside the walls of Cheongho Dojang, there came the sound of footsteps. A man stepped through the open rear gate—slender, cold-eyed, holding a long spear in one hand and a short spear in the other.
It was the Cheonrangdae's Second Squad Leader, the Ghost-Soul Spear.
"My lord. It's done."
His dry voice contrasted with the metallic rasp of the Bloodstorm Blade; hearing it was like feeling dry desert sand in one's ears.
Baek Unhoe nodded and asked,
"Losses?"
"None."
"Good. Then prepare for the ghost hunt."
The Ghost-Soul Spear dipped his head, then turned and left.
Baek Unhoe's faint smile faded when he noticed Seon Jiun and the fifty people staring in a daze. Ju Soryn and several other women had fainted, realizing their husbands were dead.
"Hmm. What should I do with them?"
Gwan Taerang answered at once,
"Kill them. They've lost family and sworn brothers. If we spare them, they'll only become future trouble."
The words jolted Seon Jiun into action. He dropped to his knees before Baek Unhoe's black horse.
"We've already won. Must you really kill these powerless ones as well? They've never learned a day of martial arts."
Baek Unhoe smiled faintly.
"My vice-commander says they're a future threat. Won't those children over there grow up with hatred and seek revenge someday?"
A vein pulsed on Seon Jiun's forehead. He shouted in outrage,
"You and your subordinates are strong enough already! Are you saying you'll kill children out of fear of future vengeance?"
"I am a demonic cultist, after all."
"…"
"You righteous folk think we're worse than beasts. Shouldn't I live up to the reputation?"
"Would my life not be enough?"
"To me, you're no different from those fifty over there. All of you would die with a single swing of my sword."
Seon Jiun had no reply. He clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of his own helplessness.
It had always been the same—dreaming of becoming a hero to protect the wronged and powerless, only to find himself powerless before cold, merciless reality.
Gwan Taerang spoke up,
"My lord, enough games. We don't have much time."
Baek Unhoe gave a short laugh, then turned serious.
"Seon Jiun. There is a way to save them."
Seon Jiun's eyes lit up.
"What is it?"
"Become someone worth keeping alive—come under my command."
It was the most shocking thing Seon Jiun had heard in his life. His face flushed red with fury.
"You… you want me to serve the man who just killed my master and brothers? Do you call that a real offer?"
"Yes. I'm making an outrageous demand. And you can choose—follow me, or refuse and die here with those fifty."
Seon Jiun gritted his teeth and glared at him, but then turned his head.
Dozens of eyes were on him, filled with the last flickers of hope.
Baek Unhoe pressed him,
"If you don't decide now, they all die."
Seon Jiun swallowed a deep breath, then met Baek Unhoe's gaze.
"Why force this absurd choice on me?"
"Simple. I like you."
"Why? What is it you like?"
"Your eyes. Your courage. Your will."
Seon Jiun faltered, then shook his head.
"I'm just a powerless disciple from a small righteous-sect dojang."
"Accept my offer, and you'll be a warrior of the Demonic Cult's Cheonrangdae. I'll give you strength."
"I… I…"
"Three years. After that, you can leave."
"…!"
"Can't you trade three years of your life for fifty lives? Or are their lives worth less than that?"
Looking into Baek Unhoe's eyes, Seon Jiun had a sudden conviction—this man would not kill the fifty even if he refused.
So he could refuse.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because in Baek Unhoe's eyes, expression, and voice… there was sincerity.
This man, for some reason, truly wanted him.
"One last question."
"Alright."
"I will not stand with you against the righteous sects. Will you still want me?"
"Yes."
"Then what will you have me do? Gather intelligence on the righteous sects? I know nothing of such things."
"Only one task."
"What is it?"
"Watch the Demonic Cult and the Black Heaven Lotus for me."
"…!"
Seon Jiun's jaw nearly dropped—so much that it was a wonder it didn't dislocate. He wondered if he'd misheard.
"W-what do you mean, watch the Demonic Cult and the Black Heaven Lotus?"
Baek Unhoe chuckled.
"Just do what you were about to do for those fifty—if you see anyone from the Cult or the Lotus harming or oppressing ordinary folk with no martial arts, tell me. That's your job."
Seon Jiun's mind spun. From Baek Unhoe's words, he understood—this man would not tolerate cultists or Lotus warriors who preyed on the weak.
The Cheonma Sword… was this man really a commander of the Demonic Cult?
He swallowed hard.
"Couldn't you have one of your subordinates do that?"
"My men don't like the idea of me making enemies among the Cult or the Lotus leadership. They care about my safety. And they're not the type to inform on their peers."
"…"
"But you wouldn't care about my safety—you'd speak up, because it would be to protect the weak. That would be reason enough for you."
Seon Jiun clenched his fists, biting his lips before replying.
"Can I ask one more question?"
"Tch. Fine—but this is the last. Then you decide."
"Yes. Why do it? Why risk making enemies among your own leadership?"
Baek Unhoe gave a small laugh and lifted his gaze to the sky.
"For a thousand years, the Demonic Cult has always sought to unify the world. And every time, without fail, it has failed—even the Heavenly Demon, said to be the strongest in history."
"…"
"Do you know why?"
Seon Jiun shook his head.
"One reason. They never won the people's hearts."
"…!"
"I want you to help me win them."
A shiver ran through Seon Jiun's body. He followed Baek Unhoe's gaze upward—
where the star of a conqueror blazed brilliantly in the night sky.
"You… do you wish to become the Conqueror's Star?"
"No."
"...?"
"It's not that I wish to be it. The Conqueror's Star… that's my star."
"...!"
"A–Ah, no! No!"
Dokgo Seol let out a faint cry in her sleep before her eyes flew open.
What entered her sight was a strange darkness—but she quickly realized it was the same darkness she'd been seeing for the past few days, and exhaled in relief.
It was the room where Cheon Ryuyeong was resting.
She sluggishly lifted her upper body, shaking her head.
She had just dreamed of her father and many others in the capital being slaughtered by the Heavenly Demon Sword.
Wiping the cold sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, she let out a small, dry laugh.
It was already the third nightmare featuring the Heavenly Demon Sword.
Most likely, the overwhelming strength she had felt when facing him alongside Cheon Ryuyeong had seeped into her subconscious.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the narrow darkness, she began to distinguish shapes.
Out of habit, she glanced toward where Cheon Ryuyeong should have been lying—then widened her eyes.
He wasn't there.
Only moments ago he had been lying there as if dead, but now he was gone.
And she realized that the blanket that had been covering him was now draped over her.
Dokgo Seol sprang to her feet, hurriedly opened the door, and stepped out into the wooden corridor—only to let her shoulders relax and breathe out in relief.
In the courtyard, Cheon Ryuyeong sat on a low wooden bench.
He sat slightly hunched, and when he noticed her, he smiled.
Much of the swelling on his face had subsided, but the bruises had darkened, making his face almost comically mottled—though no one would actually laugh at such a thing.
If anything, seeing those bruises brought only pity and sorrow.
"I just wanted to get some fresh air," Cheon Ryuyeong said.
Dokgo Seol slipped on the leather shoes at the stone steps and walked toward him, taking a seat beside him on the bench.
"Are you able to move already?"
"Much better than during the day. The physician's skill seems quite good."
"Are you really alright?"
"Truthfully, every step I take sends a sharp ache through me."
"Heh. Let's go back inside then. I'll help you."
He shook his head.
"I haven't been out here long."
"Then… just a little while longer, and you'll go back in, alright?"
"Yes. But… I heard you were having a nightmare."
At his words, Dokgo Seol smiled sheepishly.
For the past five days, she had barely slept while staying by his side.
Yet even without proper rest, her beauty—one of the renowned Five Beauties of the Martial World—remained undiminished.
If anything, her slightly gaunt face under the clear moonlight made her seem all the more delicate, stirring both admiration and tender sympathy.
A true moonlit beauty, the picture of pure grace—Dokgo Seol.
"I did have a nightmare, but it was nothing."
"Is that so?"
Cheon Ryuyeong studied her for a moment, then tilted his head back to gaze at the sky.
Following his gaze, Dokgo Seol chuckled softly.
"You're looking at the Conqueror's Star. Did Young Master Cheon also watch it often?"
"Yes. Whenever life felt unbearable, or when my chest felt fit to burst from frustration, I would look at that star—sometimes to vent my anger, sometimes to pray for its protection."
The weight of his words made her bite her lip.
The sorrowful conversation between him and Suyeon five days ago still lingered in her ears.
He continued, "Martial artists look to that star dreaming of strength, but for common folk like me, it's just a star to wish upon."
She nodded. "And what wish were you making now?"
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Yes, I made one."
"May I ask what it was?"
"I prayed, 'Conqueror's Star, hurry up and vanish!'"
"Eh? What kind of wish is that?"
She laughed incredulously, and when her laughter faded, he said quietly,
"I may have prayed to it when I had nowhere else to turn… but truthfully, I dislike that star."
She tilted her head.
"I've never heard of someone hating the Conqueror's Star. Why?"
"Because to martial artists, it's a star of desire. It makes them dream of the highest seat in the martial world. And what is that, if not power? To become a ruler with power, countless tears and blood must be spilled."
His words stunned her.
"Ah! I never thought of it that way. In my youth, I too dreamed of becoming the Conqueror's Star… still, making people strive hard for it isn't entirely bad, is it?"
"Ambition itself isn't evil. But if that goal means a single throne that can only be won by cutting down rivals… then that's the problem. You inevitably have to kill and trample others to get there."
"I… see. I never thought about it so seriously."
"Perhaps that was never the star's original meaning. Maybe it's only greedy men who've interpreted it that way…"
"...!"
Her eyes widened in surprise.
The Conqueror's Star—people had always said, this is what it means, and she had accepted it as naturally as the sun rising in the east.
Yet Cheon Ryuyeong had just shaken that entire premise.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"You're a strange person, Young Master Cheon."
"Eh?"
"You think so differently from most people."
"Hahaha. What are you saying? I'm just an ordinary man."
He waved a hand, laughing—then let out a quiet sigh and met her gaze.
"Lady Dokgo… you're worried about your father, aren't you?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I heard you talking in your sleep."
She shrugged, smiling faintly.
"Well… he is my father."
"Let's go."
"Eh?"
"Let's leave for the capital now."
"...!"
Cheon Ryuyeong rose from the bench.
"I'm worried as well. I'm still unsure what I can do… but we can't just sit here. If I can help, even a little, I should."
She stood, shaking her head.
"But in your condition, two days in a carriage will be too much."
"If we put bedding inside, it'll cushion the jolts."
"Still, Pyeong-u already went ahead, so—"
He cut her off with a shake of his head.
"I need to see it with my own eyes. Otherwise, it's meaningless."
"...."
"And more importantly… if moving even one day earlier means saving a single life, then I have to do it."
Seeing the quiet determination in his face, she clenched her fist.
"Are you sure? It's going to hurt."
"A moment's pain is better than a lifetime of regret."
She exhaled and smiled wryly, taking his hand.
"Thank you. It will mean a lot. My father will feel so reassured to see you."
Cheon Ryuyeong's smile deepened.
"I hope so too."