Chapter 139

Demonic religion 

The poison of the carrion bird had a peculiar nature.

Up until now, it had seemed like there was only one type of poison, but in truth, it was actually a mixture of many different toxins.

First, the Dispersing Poison spread out, interfering with the flow of internal energy. Afterward came poisons that harmed the body and claimed lives: poisons that hardened the lungs and organs, and poisons that clotted blood once mixed with it. Tang Mujin clicked his tongue.

“I was trying to analyze them all as if it were one single poison. No wonder progress was slow.”

Not even a moment had passed since the carrion bird landed on the dungeon roof before a reaction came from within. Two jailers emerged with grave expressions.

“Where’s the third one?”

Several possibilities came to mind. Perhaps three worked during the day but only two at night. Or maybe one had slipped away secretly to amuse himself. All were plausible explanations.

The two jailers, once outside, looked around nervously before spotting the carrion bird perched on the roof. Their faces went pale.

“Damn it, why the hell is that thing out here?”

“I don’t know, but the poison doesn’t seem that strong yet. Let’s drive it away.”

“Yeah! Hurry up and chase it off!”

“…Me? You want me to do it?”

“You’re stronger than I am. My limbs already feel stiff.”

One jailer tried to shove the responsibility onto the other, reluctant to get close to the carrion bird.

After some bickering, one of them reluctantly climbed up onto the roof.

“Why’s the nest here? And that sack—it looks like food. Who put this here?”

“Get rid of it all!”

His movements grew more cautious as he approached. The poisonous aura thickened the closer he got, and the miasma in the air threatened to gnaw at his body.

Of course, Tang Mujin had no intention of quietly waiting until the man cleared the nest.

A stone the size of a fist was already in Tang Mujin’s hand.

“Taste this.”

Until now, he had used the mysteries of Guiding Force to hurl daggers or needles.

But in truth, the largest portion of Guiding Force techniques was not about throwing knives, but about stone-throwing. After all, when fleeing, what was easier to find than stones?

Tang Mujin shifted his stance.

“Throwing isn’t done with just the shoulder. It’s done with the whole body.”

He thrust his left foot forward, twisting his body dynamically as his arm whipped out. His shoulder snapped forward, his arm lashed like a whip, and the stone tore through the air at tremendous speed.

“!”

The jailer sensed the oncoming stone with sharp instinct and reflexively raised his right arm.

But his body was sluggish, unaccustomed to the disruption in his internal energy. His arm felt unbearably heavy, his movements slow.

“Shit—!”

Just before he could cover his head, the stone struck his temple.

Crack!

A sickening sound that shouldn’t come from a human skull rang out, and the jailer collapsed.

Though struck in the temple, blood ran from his nose.

“Instant death.”

Never would a trained martial artist have imagined dying to a simple thrown rock.

The other jailer, horrified, turned toward the source of the stone.

There stood Tang Mujin, tilted casually, gazing at him. The jailer’s eyes widened.

“You—you’re the one from last time!”

“‘You’? You don’t even know your place. Right now, you should be groveling for your life.”

Though the jailer’s martial prowess was higher, Tang Mujin was the lighter, quicker one.

The jailer’s tension was plain, and seeing it brought Mujin a strange sense of satisfaction.

“A master, afraid of me? How delightful.”

The jailer shifted to an area where the poison was thinner, drawing the sword at his waist. Though he had inhaled the dispersing toxin, he could still wield his blade.

“Come! I’ll show you the difference in level.”

But Tang Mujin had no intention of closing the distance.

There was a cleaner, safer way to fight. No need to cross swords.

Three needles were held between his left-hand fingers, though the jailer couldn’t see them in the dark, not from this distance.

The jailer tightened his grip on his sword, his thoughts racing.

“That bastard isn’t affected by the poison? Or he has a way to resist it? No matter. The gap in skill is enough. I can subdue him.”

Lure him in, wait for an opening, strike fast and end it.

But the instant he finished the thought, a sharp sting spread across the back of his neck. His gaze flicked backward.

“An enemy behind me?”

No one was there.

“…A bug?”

He brushed his neck. To his surprise, something thin and long clung there.

“A needle?”

Immediately, he felt venom spreading. This wasn’t some trivial insect poison.

And it wasn’t just one toxin.

“Blood-clotting… muscle-paralyzing… and another…?”

The poison spread from his nape into deadly points across his head—Amun, Pungbu, Naho. All lethal points. And which acupoint on the head wasn’t?

He tried to circulate his energy to push the poison out, but the carrion bird’s toxins lingering in the air disrupted his internal flow.

Gathered energy clumped like thick mucus, refusing to move. What little he could muster scattered like mist.

“Not good.”

Relying on his battle experience, he made the best choice: finish the enemy quickly. Better to risk poison reaching the brain than to leave his throat open to a sword. Maybe, with luck, he could still be treated.

He raised his sword high, scanning for his opponent. But Tang Mujin hadn’t moved closer. He was just standing there.

“Come at me!” the jailer roared.

Mujin’s reply was dismissive.

“Why would I?”

“What, you a warrior with no pride? You gonna run?”

“Run?” Mujin laughed.

“Running is for losers. But you’ve already lost.”

“Nonsense! The fight hasn’t even started.”

“No. It’s already over. You can’t even stand straight.”

The jailer finally noticed—the ground itself seemed to tilt under him. A faint dizziness swelled into a crashing wave. His legs wouldn’t hold him upright.

All he could do was glare at Mujin. He couldn’t advance, couldn’t retreat, couldn’t purge the poison with his energy. And now, it was too late even if he tried.

Strength drained from his legs, and he dropped to his knees. His torso pitched forward, his forehead striking the dirt. He looked like a condemned man kneeling before the executioner.

Tang Mujin approached, sword in hand.

“Not the ending you wanted, I’m sure. But what choice do you have?”

He drove the blade into the jailer’s back, piercing his heart. He bore no personal grudge—there was no reason to prolong the man’s suffering.

Mujin rifled through the dead man’s clothes. Surely one of the two jailers had the dungeon keys.

But to his shock, no keys were found.

“…What?”

He searched again. Still nothing. Mujin’s heart sank.

The dungeon was built to hold martial artists, with bars as thick as a thumb.

With the Soul-Slaying Sword, he could cut through another’s blade, but not through those heavy bars.

And even if he did, one cut wouldn’t be enough. He’d need to sever both top and bottom, at least two bars wide for a person to slip through. For someone like the hulking Three-Eyed Buddha, at least three.

“…Don’t tell me I killed the jailers only to find no keys and fail to rescue them?”

No, impossible. Even if the jailers didn’t carry them, the keys had to be somewhere inside the dungeon. Somewhere beyond the prisoners’ reach.

But he doubted it. Some of those inside surely knew Heavenly Pull. Leaving keys in reach would be like inviting them to escape.

“But that’s the only chance I have.”

He rushed toward the dungeon entrance—just as the door creaked open.

“A third jailer?”

He instinctively stepped back, needles in one hand, sword in the other.

But just as he was about to throw, familiar faces emerged. Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae.

“…?”

And in Namgung Myeong’s right hand—keys.

“When the hell did they get those?”

Namgung Myeong was startled at the sight of Tang Mujin, but quickly regained his confidence and shouted:

“Hey! Isn’t that Tang Mujin? Don’t worry—we came to rescue you!”

“You idiot. I came to rescue you.”

“You still don’t know your place. When you’re embarrassed, you should just say thank you.”

Beside Namgung Myeong, Hong Geolgae nodded in agreement. Tang Mujin gave them a dry laugh.

“Unbelievable.”

“As expected, that’s your reaction. Ordinary people would never think of deliberately getting captured and thrown into the dungeon just to infiltrate the Demonic Cult.”

Of course, Tang Mujin wasn’t fooled by Namgung Myeong’s nonsense. When he had visited the dungeon days earlier, he had overheard Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myeong bickering.

Most likely, they’d been uselessly locked up until Jimsae appeared, stole the startled jailers’ keys, and passed them along.

Either way, it worked out. Tang Mujin snatched the bundle of keys from Namgung Myeong.

“What the—why are you taking the keys?”

“There’s someone I need to free.”

“Geez, troublesome. Who?”

“Samanbul.”

Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae narrowed their eyes at Tang Mujin.

“…You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I? Of course I’m serious.”

“You’ve been fiddling with poison all day and finally lost your mind, haven’t you?”

“To escape the Demonic Cult, we need Samanbul’s help. Do you know how many transcendent masters they have here?”

At the mention of “transcendent masters,” Namgung Myeong faltered for a moment, but didn’t back down.

“You think Samanbul will listen to you if you ask? You think you’ll get away with just losing an arm again? He’ll snap your neck for sure.”

“No. While I’ve been here, I’ve built some rapport with him. Besides, Samanbul is also at odds with the cult leader’s faction. He needs to get out too. He’ll definitely help me.”

There was conviction in Tang Mujin’s eyes.

Normally, Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae would have relented. Something like, “Fine. If you say so, we’ll trust you this once.”

But now, strangely, they hesitated.

It was almost as if—even if Samanbul was certainly an ally—they thought he was someone you should never seek help from.

“What, you don’t want help from a Demonic Cult warrior? Or is it that your grudge over your arm runs that deep? I’d understand, but…”

“No, it’s not that. Actually, I kind of like my new arm. It’s just… complicated.”

“Sorry, but we don’t have time to chat. We can settle grudges later—first we need to escape alive.”

Tang Mujin ran deeper into the dungeon.

As before, Samanbul was imprisoned in the innermost cell, but he was restrained far more severely than the others.

The other prisoners were only locked in barehanded, with no restraints.

But Samanbul’s wrists and ankles were bound by thick cuffs and shackles, fastened to the wall.

He had struggled so much that the skin of his wrists and ankles was torn and bleeding.

On top of that, he had been subjected to cruel humiliation. Unlike the other prisoners who still managed some dignity, Samanbul’s body was smeared with slimy food scraps, reeking with foul stench.

Disgusting. They don’t even care about the aftermath, do they?

When Tang Mujin slid the key into the lock, a metallic click rang out.

At that, Samanbul slowly opened his eyes. Though weakened by Jimsae’s poison, his gaze still burned fiercely.

“Tang Mujin. How did you get here?”

“I came to free you! Let’s escape the cult together.”

“Mm…”

Samanbul’s attitude was lukewarm. Tang Mujin shouted at him:

“Staying here only means betrayal or death! Don’t waste time—get ready to leave, now!”

He unlocked Samanbul’s shackles, but Samanbul hesitated instead of standing.

“I am a man with no place in the world. I turned my back on society and joined the cult. If I abandon even the cult, where can I go? I’d just wander aimlessly, dragging out my life without purpose.”

“The world is vast. As long as you live, you’ll find somewhere to stay—and something you want to do.”

Samanbul closed his eyes, lost in thought. Despite his immense strength and iron body, his spirit was no different from any ordinary man: endlessly conflicted, endlessly troubled.

At last, when Tang Mujin removed his handcuffs, Samanbul rose.

“Fine. I may not know where I’ll stay, but there is something I want to do.”

“Good decision!”

As Tang Mujin moved to leave, a prisoner in the next cell shouted:

“You’re escaping the cult? Take me with you! I’ll be of use!”

That outburst sparked a chorus of pleas.

“Me too!”

“Let me out! I don’t want to die soaked in poison!”

“I’ll even sacrifice my life—just let me out!”

Tang Mujin glanced at Samanbul, who nodded.

“They’re all in the same situation as me. Not criminals, but rebels imprisoned for defying the cult leader. But the choice is yours.”

All eyes turned to Tang Mujin.

As always, the decision lay in his hands.

He didn’t hesitate long. More allies against the cult leader could only help.

Worst case, I can use them as a distraction. It’ll boost our chances of escape.

Tang Mujin quickly unlocked the cells, freeing the prisoners.

Coughing from the poisonous miasma seeping down from above, the freed captives staggered out of the dungeon.

Tang Mujin and Samanbul were the last to leave. The scraps smeared on Samanbul’s body gave off a vile stench.

…Good thing it’s not summer.

Tang Mujin looked around. Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myeong stood off at a distance, apart from the others, watching him.

Their faces were etched with unease—completely different from their earlier bravado.

Why are they acting like that?

Just then, Samanbul spoke.

“I may not know where I’ll settle, but I can take care of what I want to do right away.”

“…What do you mean?”

Samanbul strode toward Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myeong. They trembled, unable to run.

He reached out his massive hands, seizing their shoulders, eyes blazing with fury.

“What was it you said earlier? That I was a discarded fool? That I should eat garbage instead of food?”

…So, it hadn’t been the jailers who smeared him with scraps.

Tang Mujin felt a piercing headache.