By Zephyria 
HF 22
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The man still had an ordinary appearance, and his frame was leaner than Mu-gyeong’s. Ho-yeon made eye contact with the man as he slid his hand over the strings. Ho-yeon assumed the man noticed him because he had been staring. Naturally, he looked away and lowered his gaze with a formal smile.
At that, sparks flew from Young Master Yeom’s eyes. He had never seen Ho-yeon smile even when he gave him silver, yet here he was, giving his attention to such a mediocre fellow again; it was absurd. He wanted to unleash his demonic energy to assert his dominance, but with Do-gyeon by his side, he could only repeatedly tell him to leave.
“Does the artist sell smiles as well?”
The man, who had just downed the liquor brought by the waiter, spoke in a low voice.
“Who knows, maybe he recognized you? He’s been as chilly as the North Sea’s north wind until now, but the moment the Cult Leader entered, he showed a smile.”
Do-gyeon sent a telepathic transmission to Mu-gyeong. Mu-gyeong was wearing a human-skin mask and had reduced his skeletal frame using the bone-shrinking technique. Mu-gyeong often appeared this way as he disliked unnecessary commotion, and very few people knew the Cult Leader’s human-skin mask.
“The Blood Demon Valley in Jangmak Mountain is empty.”
Dismissing the useless chatter, Mu-gyeong sent a transmission back to Do-gyeon.
“I heard the Blood Cult bastards had created several Blood Demon Valleys besides that one; it seems that information was true.”
Mu-gyeong poured liquor into his glass while listening to Ho-yeon’s performance. While Eum Yohwa’s techniques were far more diverse, there was a certain weightiness to Ho-yeon’s playing.
The reason Eum Yohwa was known as a master of sound-based attacks was that she infused her playing with internal energy. It was a cultivation power profound enough to shake a person’s seven emotions, but it did not work on those with deeper internal power than her. To them, it felt like nothing more than useless noise.
If the sound flowing from Ho-yeon’s strings contained a season, it was winter. It was the snowy wind of the eternal snow mountains, calming a boiling fire energy.
“You search the west, using the main sect as your reference.”
“Khehe, you told me to keep an eye on Wi Ho-yeon, but it seems the Cult Leader has worn himself out coming here personally?”
“The skin is like white jade, pure white jade.”
Having ceased the telepathic transmission, Do-gyeon spoke loudly on purpose. It was loud enough for Young Master Yeom to hear clearly. Beneath Ho-yeon’s loose sleeves, a white forearm was unmistakably visible.
Young Master Yeom, his eyes darting anxiously, was terrified that Do-gyeon might set his sights on Ho-yeon. Do-gyeon was actually trying to provoke Mu-gyeong, but only Young Master Yeom was feeling the agitation.
But was the Cult Leader always this energetic?
Suddenly, Do-gyeon narrowed one eye. Until now, the Cult Leader had known that the First Young Master, Cheon Beom-yeong, was alive, yet he had made no effort to find and kill him.
However, something had changed in his heart, as he was now personally tracking the Blood Cult. Since the Cult Leader seemed devoid of the five desires and seven emotions and showed no interest in anything, Do-gyeon found it extremely puzzling, even if he tried to think of it as a positive development.
The turning point for the Cult Leader was when Wi Ho-yeon appeared. Do-gyeon found this quite intriguing.
“I heard the Sword Demon is at Bangobong Forest, so I’ll search there first.”
“He is already dead.”
Do-gyeon could not hide his agitation. He thought that at his age, having seen everything the world had to offer, nothing would surprise him, but that had been a grave misconception.
“Did you handle it yourself?”
The Sword Demon was older than Do-gyeon but still healthy, so he wasn’t in a position to die of old age. Mu-gyeong tilted his glass without answering. Since his body was close to immunity to all poisons, he could not get drunk, yet he enjoyed drinking liquor more than tea. Even in the silence, Do-gyeon could guess that the Cult Leader had killed his teacher.
Still, he had once been the Cult Leader’s teacher, but Do-gyeon did not utter any empty platitudes. Since the Sword Demon had joined Cheon Beom-yeong’s faction during the bloody battle for the position of Cult Leader, the bond between teacher and disciple had already ended then.
“Do you know why I sided with a Cult Leader who even betrayed his teacher?”
Do-gyeon shifted between formal and informal speech depending on his mood, but the Cult Leader never scolded him for being disrespectful. Thus, Do-gyeon acted as he pleased, and the Cult Leader seemed to show him generosity.
However, Do-gyeon knew that this did not stem from a generous nature. It was simply that a being close to a god had no interest in a mere insignificant creature. No matter how much a human rolled around or struggled before him, it could not even create a tiny ripple for the Cult Leader.
“It’s because Cheon Beom-yeong is unlucky, not because I particularly like the Cult Leader.”
A short laugh flickered across the lips of the Cult Leader wearing the human-skin mask. Do-gyeon’s eyes widened in shock, even more so than when he heard the Sword Demon was dead. He thought the blunt Cult Leader was laughing at his words, but he was mistaken. It was a sneer directed at the final piece Ho-yeon was playing.
The song currently playing was ‘Danjangjeongsan’ (Severing the Intestines of Love). It was a song about the pain of parting from a lover, feeling as if one’s intestines were being torn apart, but if one looked deeper, there was a hidden metaphor telling the lover to at least settle their debts properly before leaving.
Do-gyeon let out a sharp breath. Since Ho-yeon was essentially playing with the clueless Young Master Yeom, Do-gyeon thought he was quite bold. But he wondered if it was a matter that could actually draw a laugh from the Cult Leader.
“The ice palace must be quite impoverished.”
At Mu-gyeong’s murmur, Do-gyeon widened one eye once more.
“So you’re going to provide for him? You’ve practically become a sugar daddy.”
Despite Do-gyeon’s arrogant language, Mu-gyeong simply downed the remaining liquor.
“Since I haven’t acted as a pillar of support, Wi Ho-yeon must feel quite wronged.”
Do-gyeon’s mouth hung open. To mention ‘acting as a pillar’—this was the first time he had heard words related to sexual affairs from the Cult Leader’s mouth. With a tingling sensation in his heart, Do-gyeon’s tongue itched. He subtly glanced at Young Master Yeom and tested the Cult Leader once more.
“That Yeom fellow has completely lost his mind.”
Young Master Yeom, who had previously barked at him to stop playing, was now unable to take his eyes off Ho-yeon. His face, once red with wounded pride, was gone, leaving only a thoroughly aroused male. Do-gyeon had said it to see Mu-gyeong’s reaction, but Mu-gyeong simply rose from his seat.
Once again, Ho-yeon’s gaze met Mu-gyeong’s. As Do-gyeon said, it wasn’t that he recognized Mu-gyeong, but since his energy perception was quite good, he looked somewhat puzzled.
“Truly flawless and magnificent!”
Young Master Yeom, who had been licking Ho-yeon’s forearm with his eyes, threw silver at Ho-yeon, unaware that he was being mocked. Ho-yeon reached out to catch the silver flying to the right. In doing so, his sleeve flipped completely, fully exposing his pale arm.
Despite receiving silver, all he offered was a short word of thanks. Far from playing another piece, he hurriedly packed away the seven-stringed zither. However, as Ho-yeon stepped down from the platform, he headed toward Young Master Yeom. Mu-gyeong paused for a moment at the unexpected sight.
Ho-yeon was openly showing his greed for money. Giving the silver to Mu-gyeong last night, telling him to use it where needed, must have been a huge decision for Ho-yeon. He would only know what kind of life Ho-yeon had lived in the ice palace once the Haeun Express returned, but he could easily guess that he hadn’t lived in luxury.
Was he planning to serve liquor on the side? He wondered if pride meant nothing for a single tael of silver.
“My! It seems he intends to switch his sugar daddy!”
Do-gyeon sent a transmission to Mu-gyeong, including his snickering laughter.
“I will return the one tael of silver.”
Ho-yeon’s soft voice reached Mu-gyeong’s ears without effort. If he set his mind to it, he could pick out and hear every sound within the main sect.
“The Ruju asked me to serve Young Master Yeom today, but I injured my hand while playing just now. I believe I will need to recover for at least fifteen days.”
There was not a single bit of swelling on Ho-yeon’s slender, jade-like hand. Young Master Yeom looked as if he wanted to grab Ho-yeon by the hair for such a brazen lie. However, because of Do-gyeon, he kept his fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms.
“I suppose I don’t have to give up the position of sugar daddy.”
It was then. Mu-gyeong spoke in a low voice and took something from his robe, placing it on the table where Do-gyeon was sitting. Thud. Do-gyeon, startled, stood up so abruptly that his eyes widened to the point where his non-existent eyeballs felt sore. Ho-yeon’s puzzled gaze shifted to Do-gyeon and then back to Mu-gyeong.
A quick-witted waiter rushed over to collect the item on the table, only to look up with a face of utter shock. The object, shimmering with a pure light, was a gold piece.