“Before I go—where do you plan to build the academy?” “There are two candidates. Yangryeong Province, or Shin Sam Valley. Unless... is there a location you’d prefer instead?” No Cheonmyeong shook his head. “Both are suitable. But what you really want... is the former, not the latter. Am I wrong?” “Then let it be Yangryeong Province.” “Understood. Then I’ll build the academy on Cheongun Mountain in Yangryeong.” Cheongun Mountain was the same mountain where Ju Ryeong Sword Sect had once been located, about two months ago. Follow current novels on novel·fıre·net Ever since their extermination, the area had been left untouched. The scenery wasn’t bad, and it was quiet—ideal for building an academy. “Call for me once everything’s ready. I’ll be staying in Shin Sam Valley for a while.” No Cheonmyeong waved his hand and walked off. In an instant, he vanished from sight. I turned my gaze to Han Murin. There was a reason I’d sent No Cheonmyeong off. The two of them, who had supposedly heard everything from the poison user, still wore unpleasant expressions. What exactly had they heard to make them look like that? Why had these poison users been in this Moonjin Gorge? What had they been doing before returning to Doksagok? “Now then—let’s hear it.” At my words, Han Murin opened her mouth with a conflicted expression. “Lord Commander... are you familiar with something called Hondok Taeyeong?” A sharp frown creased my brow. There was a reason Unhwi reacted to that phrase. The Main Blood Sect was unquestionably a terrifying sect. It was the sect that the Supreme Martial Lord, Cheondoja, belonged to—and it was filled with ultra-high-level warriors who thought nothing of killing people. Unlike the martial artists of the Martial Alliance, who at least pretended to follow the righteous path—or the warriors of the Sichuan Alliance, who declared their commitment to the path of conquest— They were truly different. They followed neither righteousness nor conquest. They walked a path stained in blood, and blood alone. Though they used blood energy rather than demonic energy, in broader terms, the Main Blood Sect still fell under the category of the demonic path. But even among them, there were rules. These were essentially laws established by Cheondoja himself—the sect leader—and he emphasized two things above all: First: Do not harm children. Second: Do not harm pregnant women. Even Unhwi, who had lived without any fixed standards, obeyed that much. He had annihilated many sects in his time, but not a single pregnant woman had died among them. He never said anything about children, but he had spared them all. This was why, even after eradicating dozens of sects, he was never denounced as a public enemy of the martial world. And in his previous life, Unhwi hadn’t become the Heavenly Blood Arbiter of the Main Blood Sect right away. That didn’t happen until about twelve years from now. Only then did he become an elder of the Main Blood Sect. As an elder, Unhwi had taken on responsibilities related to internal investigations, and while tracing the strange flow of funds within Doksagok, he stumbled upon something absurd. That was Hondok Taeyeong. So what was Hondok Taeyeong? The answer was simple. It was an experiment in which poison was injected into a fetus, from the earliest stages of development, to create a special human who could coexist with poison from birth. In other words, it was a human weapon—a Poison Soul Body capable of naturally containing and wielding poison as part of their being. That experiment officially began about eleven years from now—but now, evidence of it had surfaced. Unhwi pressed a hand to his forehead. A sigh escaped his lips. Back then, when Unhwi had seen the experimental document—the Taeyeong Secret Record—it had been nearly complete. He had thought it impressive that they’d advanced that far in just a year—and in truth, it was impressive. That’s how formidable Cheonsa Eum’s abilities were. Even now, the man was studying poisons potent enough to wipe out the entire Snow Mountain—how could he not be capable of creating a Poison Soul Body? But now, judging by the way things were unfolding, it wasn’t like that at all. The Hondok Taeyeong experiment, which Cheonsa Eum of Doksagok had spearheaded, had already been in progress long before. It had merely paused for a time, then resumed again eleven years later. For the first time in a long while, Unhwi’s mind was tangled. A fundamental question arose. Did Cheondoja really not know about this? No matter how mischievous he was, Cheondoja was a man who always upheld his principles. Yet here it was—happening even now? In his previous life, once he became an elder, Unhwi had burned all materials related to Hondok Taeyeong, split Doksagok in half, and severed Cheonsa Eum’s right arm. Rather than criticizing him, Cheondoja had asked why Unhwi hadn’t simply killed Cheonsa Eum. And Unhwi had replied that, while Cheonsa Eum had crossed the line, his skills were too valuable to waste. Unhwi had been the one to begin the investigation—and the one to end it. So Cheondoja had honored his judgment and spared Doksagok. Frankly, had Unhwi not insisted on sparing Cheonsa Eum that day, Doksagok would have been wiped out. But this was all too strange. Knowing what kind of person Cheondoja was—why would he allow the experiment to proceed? Sure, Cheondoja was remarkable. But that didn’t mean he had total control over the world, nor could he see through everything. Likewise, while Unhwi was hailed as extraordinary by those around him, called a “divine move,” someone who toyed with the Martial and Sichuan Alliances alike— He still couldn’t see through everything either. And because he was human, there were bound to be gaps. Then—could it be that Unhwi had misunderstood Cheondoja? There was one person. The Vice Leader of the Main Blood Sect—Yu Cheong. If he was involved in this... everything made sense. Things Unhwi hadn’t known in his past life—things he’d only come to understand after being granted this second life. He rested his chin on his hand. From where he stood now, even Everlasting Snow Palace looked like a castle made of sand. And now... the Main Blood Sect didn’t seem much different. In front of him, a poison user was watching him with a pained face, eyes pleading desperately for his life. “How far along is the experiment?” “...Only to the mid-stage.” “The mid-stage... That means the fetus’s internal organs had started to develop poison meridians, and the skin began to take on a bluish-black hue. Am I right?” “If they injected the Black Shadow Gallbladder created by Cheonsa Eum, the fetus’s gallbladder would’ve turned black, and the bloodstream would be over 70% poisoned.” The poison user’s eyes began to shake violently, as if in disbelief. “The mid-stage means the theory was already complete, and the current phase was field verification. So you must’ve reached the second stage of the Taeyeong Five-Phase Process... the fetus’s energy channels had begun turning into poison meridians, but the sixth sense hadn’t yet mutated. That correct too?” The man’s face turned deathly pale. “H-How... how do you know all that...?” “You don’t need to know. Just answer the questions. How many pregnant women have died so far?” “...About ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) two hundred... maybe more.” Hondok Taeyeong was an experiment to create Poison Soul Bodies. And its target was fetuses. The logic was obvious: if the fetus had to be poisoned, so did the mother. And if the fetus died, the mother died. If the mother died, the fetus died. Unhwi continued quietly. “When the toxins infiltrate the fetus’s internal organs, the most dangerous point is when a Blood-Poison Meridian forms near the heart. At that stage, the survival rate drops below 30%. Were there any fetuses that reached that point?” The poison user couldn’t answer. Fear flashed in his eyes. And in that moment, Unhwi seized him by the throat. His cold gaze stabbed directly into the man’s heart. “I asked if there were any.” “Y-Yes... there were...” “...Yes... exactly ten.” “Ten, huh. Then you must’ve also attempted the third phase—Poison-Heart Integration Thread, didn’t you?” “H-How do you even know that?! That’s only known to the Poison Master...” The poison user suddenly clamped his own hand over his mouth. Unhwi’s gaze turned even colder. “So—only Cheonsa Eum knows about it. Then you’re not just an ordinary poison user, are you?” The man swallowed hard. “You’re from Poison Source Unit, aren’t you?” The poison user shut his mouth immediately. That was enough. The Poison Source Unit was Cheonsa Eum’s personal unit. They only followed his orders. An elite guard with profound knowledge of poisons—and their commander was a descendant of the renowned Sichuan Tang clan from the ancient era. The color drained entirely from the man’s face. “You... how do you know any of this? The Taeyeong Secret Record is one of the highest-level secrets... even within Doksagok, almost no one knows of it...” “Of course they don’t. Because if Cheondoja finds out—Doksagok will be wiped out that very day.” Unhwi’s gaze was ice. “Do you have the Taeyeong Secret Record on you?” “...If I give it to you... will you spare me...?” “Then why would I...” “But it’ll be painless.” “I’ll be brief. You have two choices. First, tell me the location of the Taeyeong Secret Record and the site of the experiments—and die painlessly. Second, be tortured until you say it. If that’s hard to decide, I’ll offer some advice: the one who tortured you earlier was using techniques from Records of Eternal Punishment. And I’m the one who wrote that manual.” “Records of Eternal Punishment was compiled from a few of my torture techniques. I swear on everything I am: you will suffer through a hundred different tortures before you die. Choose.” Unhwi let go of the man’s neck and stepped back. The poison user swallowed hard and spoke. “...The Taeyeong Secret Record... is buried inside that collapsed hermitage... sealed in a box made from Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron. Press the very bottom center of the base—it’ll open.” “And the experiment site?” “...Midway up Mount Eumbaek. There’s a place behind Taehwa Spring where the brush is thick. Tap the ground five times to the left, three to the right—a hidden space will open.” “A mechanism-based seal.” “...I’m not... but, can I just ask one thing?” The poison user’s tone changed slightly. “What... do you intend to do with the Taeyeong Secret Record?” Unhwi answered tersely. “I’ll use it as a weapon.” “...A weapon... Today, you’ve crossed the Main Blood Sect. This is going to spark a real conflict between you and them... so you mean to use it as a negotiation tool?” The poison user... seemed to suddenly realize something.