By Zephyria 
HF 64
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“An order has been issued that until further notice from the Cult Leader, wandering alone after the hour of the monkey is forbidden.”
Hearing that a curfew had been established, Ho-yeon felt a great sense of relief, yet simultaneously felt a wave of self-loathing. He wondered what on earth he had been thinking.
“As you know, Young Master, there have been frequent disappearances within the Divine Cult for some time. They were all the work of those Blood Cult bastards. Fortunately, the number of missing persons has decreased significantly now, but since we haven’t captured every last one of them, the Cult Leader must be concerned for our members.”
According to Abok, the Blood Cult lived hidden in the shadows of the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains. Their dwellings were called Blood Demon Valleys; while the exact number wasn’t known, Abok added that there were likely more than ten.
“Even if we slaughtered every single one of those wretched curs who ruined the Cult Leader’s birthday and displayed their heads on the walls of the Divine Cult, it wouldn’t be enough to quench the anger.”
Abok rarely acted emotionally, but when it came to showing his loyalty to the Cult Leader, he became incredibly hot-tempered.
“The Cult Leader is personally leading the Demonic Shadow Guard to crush the Blood Demon Valleys. He has already discovered and dealt with more than five of them, so the day the Blood Cult is uprooted is not far off.”
As someone who had suffered at their hands, Ho-yeon found this news welcoming. He also began to understand why the man—whether as the Young Master or as he was now—was so often absent. After all, he was the head of the organization responsible for the massive Demon Sect. He couldn’t possibly have as much spare time as Ho-yeon did.
“Abok.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“By the way, what is that?”
Having been preoccupied with the conversation, Ho-yeon only now noticed what was draped over Abok’s shoulder.
“It is a sandbag.”
Abok spoke as he lowered the rectangular piece of sewn cloth from his shoulder. The fabric had been stitched in sections to divide the space, ensuring the sand was evenly distributed and didn’t shift to one side.
Wondering why he had a sandbag, Ho-yeon watched as Abok crouched before him, holding two cloth bags filled with sand. Abok seemed to be contemplating how to secure them around Ho-yeon’s ankles.
“I did not realize you had bruised because I could not see.”
“It’s not really a bruise. I’m truly fine.”
“The Cult Leader personally told me to switch them to sandbags.”
Instead of lead weights, he was now to climb the mountains wearing sandbags. It was a tear-inducingly grateful mercy from the Cult Leader.
“I’ll just do it without them, and I’ll just tell Mu-gyeong… the Cult Leader that I wore them.”
“Young Master.”
Abok wore a look of absolute horror, as if asking how he could possibly say such a thing. He understood the loyalty of the cultists, but he wasn’t a member of the Demon Sect…
“Alright, I get it.”
When Ho-yeon woke up and washed this morning, he had intentionally avoided checking every part of his body. The events of last night were still vivid, and he feared that if he saw the marks left behind, the afterimages would never leave his mind.
“The Cult Leader… can he do anything he wants?”
“He is a man who lacks nothing and cannot fail to obtain anything.”
Yes, Ho-yeon found that somewhat strange. In reality, Cheon Mu-gyeong could have treated him much more recklessly. While they had clung to each other under the guise of efficiency, the man had been utterly aroused yesterday. Ho-yeon had been the same, and he realized that a relationship could be maintained through physical pleasure alone, even without the emotion of love.
Therefore, Cheon Mu-gyeong could have forced him as much as he wanted. But he didn’t. He was by no means a gentle man, so he wondered—was he being lenient with him?
Unless he was a fool, Ho-yeon knew that Cheon Mu-gyeong, a being of the heaven beyond heavens and the center of awe, was quite merciful to him. However, that was likely because he was very useful as an “ice pack.” Still, Ho-yeon continued to think of Mu-gyeong as a fated connection.
Meeting him hadn’t been a coincidence, and though he had pretended to be the fake Young Master, it was true that coming to the Demon Sect had brought them together. Otherwise, they lived so far apart that they would have spent their entire lives without ever crossing paths.
Perhaps he also viewed Ho-yeon, who came from the Ice Palace, as a fated connection? This hopeful line of thinking leaped around like a fish flopping out of water.
Ho-yeon also wanted to ask if the Cult Leader had always smiled this much. When they first met, the man had been mostly expressionless.
Ho-yeon looked down at the crown of Abok’s head as he secured the sandbags to his ankles with strings. Just as he was about to ask his prepared question, Abok suddenly snapped his head up and looked in a certain direction. Sensing a presence, Ho-yeon looked the same way.
The only people who could enter and leave the Shadowless Pavilion at will were Abok, Jangun, who guarded the place, and Ho-yeon. As for Cheon Mu-gyeong, all the lands of the Demon Sect belonged to him, so he was a given.
However, Ho-yeon wondered why that person was coming here. The man walking slowly with his hands behind his back was Do-gyeon, wearing a blindfold over his eyes.
Jangun was nowhere to be seen, but he always hid somewhere to guard or monitor the Shadowless Pavilion. Seeing that Jangun didn’t reveal himself even upon Do-gyeon’s arrival, it seemed he wasn’t someone to be wary of.
Ho-yeon, now tied with two sandbags at his ankles, rose from the table chair.
“It has been a while, Young Master Wi.”
Do-gyeon greeted him first, softly crinkling one eye. Ho-yeon now knew well that he was currently ranked 14th within the Demon Sect and was an old master who had achieved returning to youth. Come to think of it, he heard that the struggle for the 15th rank had yet to resume.
Because it had been canceled due to the Blood Cult’s intrusion, the members of the Demon Sect were even more enraged at the Blood Cult. It was said that the day the cultists looked forward to most in the year was the Cult Leader’s birthday, and the Blood Cult had effectively stepped on a landmine.
“Greetings.”
Ho-yeon also showed respect by forming a fist-palm salute, and beside him, Abok bowed his head deeply.
“Hmm, why is Chief Han’s servant here?”
Do-gyeon closed the distance in an instant. It was a lightfoot technique that created an optical illusion, as if the ground itself were folding. Do-gyeon examined Abok with interest.
“He is currently serving as Young Master Wi’s servant.”
In the meantime, Ho-yeon became captivated by the thought that it would be good to learn that kind of lightfoot technique. Of course, Cheon Mu-gyeong’s technique would be superior, but the problem was that he showed no intention of teaching it.
“I suppose Young Master Wi was important even in Chief Han’s eyes.”
Chuckling, Do-gyeon patted Abok on the shoulder as if telling him not to be too nervous. He then asked for some food to be brought out.
Then, Do-gyeon cast a glance at Ho-yeon and flinched. It was because of a certain desire clearly cast over Ho-yeon’s eyes. In those clear, blue eyes, there was a pervasive, worldly energy of wanting something greatly. It was almost as if his eyes were saying, Hurry up and give me what I want.
His gaze was so honest that Do-gyeon felt embarrassed to be empty-handed. Or perhaps he had already guessed the reason for the visit?
“Haha, Young Master Wi. Why do you look at this old monster so?”
However, Do-gyeon played innocent and smiled. He sat in the chair opposite Ho-yeon and invited him to sit as well.
“Your lightfoot technique is truly wonderful and magnificent.”
“Lightfoot technique?”
A sound of surprise escaped Do-gyeon’s lips.
“Yes.”
Ho-yeon nodded, his eyes sparkling. He sat in the chair, righted the overturned teacup in front of Do-gyeon, and poured tea from the pot.
Do-gyeon glanced down and saw the sandbags tied to Ho-yeon’s ankles. He wondered why he was wearing such things, then realized he must be building up his physical strength. Since he was said to be someone who didn’t know proper martial arts, it was only natural that he would covet a lightfoot technique.
“The Young Master has a keen eye. This old monster can at least compete with the Cult Leader when it comes to lightfoot techniques.”
Ho-yeon’s blue eyes widened further.
“Really, even with the Cult Leader?”
“Of course.”
Because the reaction was like the eyes of a grandson who completely trusted and followed him, Do-gyeon shrugged his shoulders. Of course, Do-gyeon had no blood relatives. Especially since a white man like that looked completely different from the people of the Demon Sect, he wasn’t even comparable to a grandson. Yet, strangely, even after visiting the Ice Palace, Do-gyeon had never seen anyone with hair the color of Ho-yeon’s.
“Why, do you wish to learn the lightfoot technique?”
“Y-you would teach me?”
It seemed as if blue waves reflecting sunlight were shimmering in Ho-yeon’s eyes. He had only brought it up as a joke, but Ho-yeon’s reaction was so dramatic that Do-gyeon actually felt embarrassed.
“Ahem, not personally, but I have a decent manual on lightfoot techniques, so I shall send it through my subordinates soon.”
Ho-yeon’s mouth fell open, and a flush soon spread across his white cheeks.
It’s understandable why the Cult Leader’s head would spin. Hehe. Do-gyeon looked at Ho-yeon as if watching something amusing, then suddenly pulled something from inside his light armor and placed it on the table.
Naturally, this couldn’t be the manual… As Ho-yeon looked on with a question, Do-gyeon lifted the teacup and gulped down the tea.
“It is a letter from the Palace Master of the Ice Palace, to be delivered to Young Master Wi.”
Surprise and a flood of questions surged through Ho-yeon’s mind. He wondered how Do-gyeon could have obtained a letter from the Palace Master.
“Invincible Divine Cult! Ten Thousand Demons Submit!”
At that moment, hearing Abok’s voice from behind him, Ho-yeon realized Cheon Mu-gyeong was arriving. Abok, who had been bringing the food, was now lying flat on the ground.
Fearing he would be caught by Mu-gyeong, Ho-yeon quickly slid the letter into the inside of his sleeve. He then looked nervously at Mu-gyeong, who approached with a leisurely gait, unlike Do-gyeon.
Do-gyeon, who rose to his feet, and Jangun, who had appeared from somewhere, knelt on one knee toward the Cult Leader.
“Advent of the Heavenly Demon! Ten Thousand Demons Submit!”
They also began their salutations. Ho-yeon simply stood there, forgetting even to breathe.
Unlike usual, Mu-gyeong had his hair tied up, and the stray strands of hair did not flutter even in the wind. Mu-gyeong’s hands were heavily stained with dried blood. He cast a glance at Ho-yeon beyond Do-gyeon, then walked toward a jar that had collected rainwater.
While he washed his hands, Mu-gyeong’s gaze remained fixed on Ho-yeon. Ho-yeon’s entire attention was focused on the letter in his sleeve. He worried that the man might have seen the letter. Was that why he was staring at him like that? What if he demanded it right now? If he wanted him to confess honestly…
Under the pressure and tension emanating from Mu-gyeong, Ho-yeon was suddenly seized by the thought that he had to say something. Thus, he blurted out whatever came to mind.
“In… Invincible Divine Cult, Ten Thousand Demons Submit…!”
The sound of water dripping from the hands of Cheon Mu-gyeong, who was staring intently at him, sounded exceptionally loud.