You couldn’t sleep in a situation like this. Even the eldest brother, resting on the table, had to be more on edge than he was with just the Seven Killers of Yunnan around.

I kept watching the army cloaked in darkness.

Because that’s how watch duty should be done. Then I heard the eldest brother’s voice from behind me.

“Come down when you get sleepy. We’ll switch.”

I just nodded.

Even I didn’t know when I might get sleepy. My sleep had fled the moment I saw the enemy forces.

The Seven Killers of Yunnan began whispering.

“...Shall we take turns sleeping, two watches each?”

“Shut it. Who can sleep?”

“We should try.”

“Pathetic bastards.”

A stretch of silence followed until the clouds parted briefly, and the moonlight illuminated the army. To my surprise, some had their eyes closed, while others stared directly at me.

Closing one’s eyes seemed to be their form of rest, taken in shifts.

As the clouds returned, their gazes were swallowed by the dark again.

I spoke toward the army.

“One night remains.”

There was no lunatic here who would dare talk back.

That was fine.

Because I was the kind of man who says what he wants to say.

“There’s only me and the former Left Guardian—known as Sword Demon—here, but if a full-scale fight breaks out tomorrow, most of you are going to die. Which means tonight might be your last night alive. Of course, if your Cult Leader shows up, maybe tonight is my last night too. Anyone here planning to die tomorrow? No one?”

“......”

“Of course not. I don’t plan to die either. But let’s all admit that it could be our last night. The Cult Leader is a terrifying man, so I get why you’d follow him. The undefeated one. The unrivaled one. So, how many of you became cultists by choice? Were you captured? Dragged in? Born into a line of cultists? Did you join for money? Or were your ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) families slaughtered and you kidnapped? Whatever the story, you’re facing death. Anyone here ever respected the eldest? And by ‘eldest,’ I mean the Sword Demon. No? Or just too afraid to speak?”

“......”

“You don’t have to answer. I’m sure someone has. Someone must. The former Left Guardian isn’t a narrow-minded man. A ghost from the old main cult branch we killed once said something—he called the eldest ‘Number Thirteen.’ Ever heard of that? Number Thirteen.”

“......”

“Not Number One, or Number Two, or Number 683. Number Thirteen. You know better than I what it means to be referred to by a number in the Cult. It means he was a slave long before you, tossed around by the Cult like trash. That’s why I get it. That’s why I understand you. Even someone like the eldest lived through being called Number Thirteen—surviving, and surviving again, until one day, he became a Left Guardian. Then, one day, he made up his mind and left the Cult behind. He turned his back on the Cult Leader, whom everyone fears. That’s an incredible decision. That’s why I call him ‘eldest.’ Could any of you make a choice like that? No. It’s not easy.”

“......”

“It was a miracle that the man once called Number Thirteen even became a Left Guardian. And for a Left Guardian to turn his back on the Cult? That’s even more of a miracle. Is the new Left Guardian arriving tomorrow? What kind of person is he? Is he as strong as the man I call eldest? Is he someone you respect?”

My throat got dry from all the talking.

I turned my head to the Seven Killers of Yunnan.

“Bring me some wine.”

Since Manbak Magun was still lying down, Flying Sword Ghost brought the wine and climbed up the wall. I looked at the wine, then said to him,

“Drink.”

He took a sip, then passed it to me. I wet my throat with a swig.

That was when a voice rose from the cult’s side.

“So it’s the Seven Killers of Yunnan. Why are you still alive?”

Flying Sword Ghost scanned the darkness and replied,

“Because we’re still breathing. What kind of dogshit question is that?”

As soon as he spoke, he jumped down from the wall. Muttering to himself,

“Still alive, my ass...”

They were going to start a fight, so I stepped in first.

“Everyone shut up. I’ll explain why the Seven Killers of Yunnan are still alive. The eldest didn’t want to eat my cooking, so I had them cook and clean instead. What does that mean? It means the eldest has quite the refined palate. It’s definitely not because I can’t cook. I’m a former jomsoi—there’s no way I can’t cook. I’m a master of chicken-head noodles so good, two people could die over it and not notice.”

This many people giving absolutely no response was a first for me.

I ordered the Seven Killers of Yunnan,

“Make the lights brighter.”

The grumbling ones moved, and the Zaha Guest House grew brighter. I asked the army,

“Who’s in charge here?”

“What do you want?”

It was the same voice that earlier introduced himself as the Commander of the Geumho Division. I asked him something I’d been wondering.

“Is the Cult Leader coming too?”

“The Cult Leader.”

“So is he coming or not? Why no answer? Commander of Geumho, a man like you—someday you’ll come to your senses and realize the Cult isn’t a place for sane people. The former Left Guardian who left the Cult already figured that out.”

From the darkness, something flashed—then a dagger flew straight at me. I caught it with my palm, now infused with ice qi, and stared at the army.

I raised my right hand—and threw the dagger back exactly where it had come from.

With a sharp whoosh, it flew back—and a blade flashed, partially drawn, to deflect it. Then came a thud—a cultist fell with no scream, only the sound of hitting the ground.

The lack of even a short cry made it feel all the more pitiful.

Yet still, the rest of the army didn’t waver.

“Hard to tell if I killed him or the Commander of Geumho did.”

“......”

“Let’s call it a joint effort. At this point, we can only try to guess the Cult Leader’s intentions. Unless he appears personally, none of you will be able to kill us or take the sword. So really, what he’s saying is: all of you can die now. Numbers don’t matter. Even if the new Left Guardian hires a bunch of assassins with his wealth, it’s pointless. The eldest was stronger than all of you, which is why he became a Left Guardian. The only other one with comparable skill—the Right Guardian—has left the Cult too. As for the ghosts—they’ve mostly been beaten to death by us. You’re standing at the edge of a cliff. When the sun rises, go ahead and jump. That’s what your Cult Leader wants. Seems he hates anyone with martial arts—enemy or ally alike.”

The Commander of Geumho finally opened his mouth.

“Gu Jo, rise.”

I heard the rustling of clothes, and dozens of men stood up at once.

The Commander gave his next order.

“Tear the Lord of Haomun’s mouth apart.”

Before Gu Jo could move, I anticipated the height of their necks, drew my sword, and channeled the energy of Flame Technique into it. Bursting with fire, the blade released a slash of sword qi in a straight line.

Thunk!

The sound of blood spraying overlapped with a dull thud as heads fell.

Most of Gu Jo’s unit didn’t move. But some survived—those who had stood outside the sword qi’s horizontal range. As the moonlight brightened, I could see only the ones still standing with their heads intact.

I said to the Commander of Geumho,

“I expected mass deaths once you came this far. But if your skills are that impressive, it should’ve been you challenging me first. Whether you’re the Demonic Cult, a military unit, or some dumb neighborhood gang, the leader should lead. You really thought your subordinates could tear my mouth apart? Commander, don’t let your temper get them killed.”

“......”

“This is something the Cult Leader, I, and the eldest need to resolve. Maybe even the new Left Guardian arriving tomorrow can be reasoned with. Just shut up and spend the last night of your life in silence.”

The Commander didn’t reply.

So I offered him a suggestion.

“I know you won’t retreat. But even if you did, I wouldn’t chase you. You’re not worth it. Anyone here heard of my trump card?”

Once again, I raised my own hand.

“No one? Not even pretending? Whatever. Refuse my proposal for a quiet night one more time, and I’ll show you the Heaven-Piercing Sun-Moon Radiance.”

I raised one finger.

“When I fight the Cult Leader, I probably won’t have the luxury of using it. But if I do, I guarantee even he will dodge. Why? Because that’s what Heaven-Piercing Sun-Moon Radiance is.”

The eldest chimed in.

“Third.”

“What.”

“Take a break.”

I looked at him.

“Why?”

He approached me and said,

“Because if you keep talking like that, you’ll really use Heaven-Piercing Sun-Moon Radiance. And if it explodes, even I’ll have to dodge. Better you rest.”

“Mm.”

The moment I agreed with him, I leapt from the wall and landed on the table. Like a watch shift, the eldest floated into the air, stepped onto the wall, and sat cross-legged.

As soon as he appeared on the wall, the whole area became even quieter.

The former Left Guardian was now staring at his old subordinates.

I lay askew on the table, sometimes watching the Seven Killers of Yunnan, sometimes staring at the eldest’s back.

As silence stretched on, the eldest spoke.

“Commander of Geumho.”

“Speak.”

“Your elbow healed? I heard you were stabbed by a dagger.”

“It’s fine now.”

“Better than before?”

“Worse than before, obviously.”

“Has Wi become Left Guardian?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Not my place to interfere.”

“Do you understand why the Cult Leader keeps sending troops after me?”

“I just follow orders. Understanding them is not required.”

The eldest asked again.

“Do you know why I left the Cult?”

“I don’t even want to.”

“Then at least know why you’re going to die.”

The Commander replied.

“That’s what being a cultist is. Just like you were back then.”

“That’s what it is.”

I looked at Manbak Magun, still not awake, and asked the Six Killers,

“...Is he dead?”

“He’s still alive.”

“Looks to me like he just doesn’t want to do guard duty and is sleeping like a log. Listen to his breathing. He’s not unconscious—he’s asleep.”

The Six Killers looked at Manbak Magun.

“No way...”

I shook my head.

“That’s definitely the sound of someone sleeping.”

Manbak Magun furrowed his brows, then woke up and asked his brothers,

“...What’s going on?”

Flying Sword Ghost grabbed his shoulder and laid him back down.

“Just sleep.”

“Got it.”

Manbak Magun let out a long sigh and closed his eyes again.

The eldest asked the Commander of Geumho,

“Is the new Right Guardian decided?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“The Blade Demon from the inner division and Iron-Faced Cultivator from the outer division fought for it.”

“Who died?”

“Blade Demon.”

“Who the hell is this Iron-Faced Cultivator?”

“Someone vouched for by the new Left Guardian. Probably a guest of the Myeongcheon family.”

The eldest scoffed.

“A guest taking the Right Guardian seat...”

“But the Iron-Faced Cultivator lost an arm in the fight and declined the position. Then the inner division put forth Battle Demon again, and the outer division sent his senior, Tower King.”

“So?”

“Tower King became the Right Guardian.”

“Battle Demon died too?”

“It’s the rule—fail to claim the seat, and you die. He was still breathing, but ended his life by striking his own pressure point.”

“So the Myeongcheon family now has both Left and Right Guardian seats.”

“That’s right. Tell me, Sword Demon.”

“What?”

The Commander asked with a hint of disbelief.

“Do you still have lingering attachment to the Cult?”

It was a provocative question, but the eldest answered calmly.

“Commander of Geumho, Blade Demon and Battle Demon were men I knew. Whether I was in the Cult or not, I knew them. If they died to someone with no name or reputation, of course I’d feel bitter.”

“Bitter? That’s a big change.”

“......”

“You were the prime example of a man without blood or tears in the Cult. But now that you’re hanging around the Lord of Haomun, you’ve grown some sentiment like some white-clad swordsman. You really want to be human now, huh? That nickname Sword Demon doesn’t suit you anymore. I bet Blade Demon and Battle Demon are cursing you in the afterlife. When the Cult Leader kills you, go apologize to them. Tell them you died pathetically.”

I had been listening to their exchange...

Come to think of it, the Commander of Geumho was the first person to ever insult the eldest like that.

I looked at the eldest.

I couldn’t tell if he was angry and silent, or just letting it wash over him.

The eldest said to the Commander,

“You go ahead and say your farewells first. I’ll come a little later. And Commander, was I really a man without blood or tears in the Cult?”

The Commander replied.

“Is that even a question? Everyone knew you were. You were the only one the Right Guardian was afraid of.”

I was watching the eldest’s profile when his lips curled upward into a smile.

Still staring at the army, he said in a calm tone,

“In truth, I still am. Still a man without blood or tears—that’s who I am.”

“...Damn.”

I let out a sound without thinking. His voice was so solemn, it felt strange. But thinking about it—that was a joke. A rare one from the Sword Demon.

Of course, it wasn’t funny enough for me to laugh. So I didn’t.