The Demonic Cult possessed more expertise in evil arts than anywhere else in the Central Plains. Let alone the Heavenly Demon, who had repeated regression countless times.

In fact, before my own regression, they had often overcome their average inferiority in strength through such wicked techniques.

So even if one more absurd phenomenon occurred, it would not be strange. For instance—

“A dead person returning in another body.”

It was similar to the Blood Buddha, yet it felt different.

The Blood Buddha’s reincarnation worked by storing his memories within a Demon Bell as a medium, eroding a new body, overlaying those memories, and being reborn repeatedly.

Memories not fully preserved would be lost, but fundamentally, it was a structure that allowed experience to accumulate over long periods.

After all, what meaning would rebirth have if one’s memories vanished?

But the King of Assassins was different.

When I defeated the first King of Assassins, I had succeeded in roughly piercing through his stealth. Even his assassin’s signature swift movements—sharp enough to sever a throat the moment one let their guard down—had been overwhelmed by the speed of my Thunderclap Sword.

The reason he met death at my hands was because his two greatest weapons had become useless before me.

Just as I had planned to kidnap Tang Sowol the moment I regressed, if given another chance, the King of Assassins would surely have contemplated a method to defeat me.

But in the second King of Assassins, I sensed no trace of such contemplation.

He hid as he did when we first met. He ambushed. When exposed, he showed a flicker of surprise. Then he committed to a frontal clash and was defeated.

There were slight differences, but the overall flow was identical to when he first died by my hand.

I knew well, having crossed blades with him—he was no fool.

Yet he persisted in the very method that had once led to his death.

Thinking back, when I first pierced through his stealth, he had shown genuine emotional agitation.

Moreover, his martial arts had not changed at all between the first and second encounters. Almost the same level.

It was the reaction of someone meeting me for the first time.

There was certainly something behind this. But with what I currently knew, there was no way to uncover it.

I could only remain vigilant, for I could not guarantee there would not be a third or fourth King of Assassins.

Of course, that did not mean there was nothing I could do.

“We need to find out why the Valley of Assassins joined the Demonic Cult.”

“You believe the King of Assassins’ secret lies with the Demonic Cult, Brother Cheon?”

“There does not seem to be any other plausible explanation.”

“It is an outrageous notion, to be sure. But relying on a single path is not to my taste.”

Having said that, Tang Sowol began carefully examining the corpse of the King of Assassins, the dagger still embedded in his glabella.

As if discovering something, she drew a suitable hidden blade from her sleeve.

Slice.

She severed one ear and placed it on her palm, inspecting it from different angles.

“This corpse bears traces of bone-restructuring techniques throughout his entire body, as though he were forcibly crumpled and molded.”

“So it seemed. Perhaps they required a body as similar as possible to the first King of Assassins.”

“Yes, that is my thought as well. However, look at this ear.”

Hm?

The ear resting on her palm appeared perfectly normal. Smooth. No signs of distortion.

“If we dig deeper, we may find something else. But for now, this seems to be the only part untouched by bone-restructuring techniques.”

“So you intend to keep it.”

“Yes. To us, this appears merely grotesque and incomprehensible. But to experts, might they not see what we cannot?”

“Indeed. If it is a method unknown to upright and honorable orthodox martial artists like you and me, then what can be done?”

“Ah… yes…”

She seemed to have much to say, but merely nodded and wrapped the ear in cloth before storing it away.

Meanwhile, I searched through the King of Assassins’ garments.

Half-expecting another letter from the Heavenly Demon—

And indeed, there it was. A single sheet of paper, steeped in dense demonic qi.

When I unfolded it, there was but one short sentence.

—The Soul-Transference Grand Art was not the answer.

“The Soul-Transference Grand Art?”

I had never heard of such a technique. But from its name, I could roughly infer its effect.

To transfer the soul.

If moved to the past, it would be regression. If into another’s body, reincarnation.

If the Heavenly Demon, who had undergone countless regressions, researched such an art, for what purpose?

After a brief contemplation, the answer came surprisingly quickly.

“Did he desire a companion?”

I had regressed only once. Yet when those who had shared deep bonds with my previous life failed to recognize me—

When I realized I could not reveal my regression to anyone, and that the more difficult matters were, the more I had to shoulder them alone—

Even I could not help but grow weary and disheartened.

If not for the Demon Bell allowing me to share fragments of memory… the loneliness nestled deep within my heartscape would surely have grown ever larger.

Come to think of it, it had been the Heavenly Demon who taught me that the Demon Bell could be used in such a way.

If he had regressed many times, then what he would crave most would be a companion.

A friend. A lover. Anyone willing to walk this endless path alongside him.

With each regression, everything reset. Each time, he would have to form new bonds with those who already held countless memories unknown to him. That experience must have slowly eroded his sanity.

His knowledge of exploiting the Demon Bell, and the statement that the Soul-Transference Grand Art was not the answer—

It seemed certain that, at some point, the Heavenly Demon had sought a companion who could regress alongside him.

If so, I could understand why he extended a certain goodwill toward me.

Yet he did not fully cooperate because he could not be certain whether my regression would end with this one instance, or continue repeatedly as his did.

And perhaps because he now had goals beyond merely creating a fellow regressor.

Unfortunately, those goals were highly likely to conflict with mine.

He had lived longer than I, mastered far more profound visions, and come closer to the truth of regression itself.

I did not know what he saw, nor what he sought that required so much bloodshed—

But—

“I will not sit idly and be swept along.”

I crushed the letter in my hand and burned it with Samadhi True Flame.

Fwoosh.

The paper turned to ash, leaving behind black smoke and a faint acrid scent.

Whether it was consideration or provocation, I could not tell. But thanks to it, I now knew where to focus my investigation.

A King of Assassins who died and returned. A new body forcibly reshaped through extreme bone-restructuring. And the Soul-Transference Grand Art.

If I asked someone versed in evil arts about these three, perhaps something would surface.

“Come to think of it, my next duel opponent is the Illusory Illusion Witch, was it not?”

“Oh? Do you know her, Brother Cheon?”

“I have heard of her.”

The Illusory Illusion Witch.

In the Central Plains, where evil arts were shunned, she was among the rare heterodox masters deeply versed in such techniques.

Perhaps for that reason, few had ever seen her true face.

Even if one had, could they swear it was truly hers? It might well have been a false visage layered by her illusion techniques.

Such rumors circulated, marking her as dangerous in a different sense from most in the martial world.

But—

“A sword always knows the answer.”

If she did not wish to die, she would squeeze something out.

As long as I had the Heavenly Eye, illusion-based evil arts could not deceive me completely.

Moreover, the Illusory Illusion Witch was easy enough to understand.

She had first cooperated with the Black Lotus Sect because she wished to live. She later attempted to betray them and join the Demonic Cult—for the same reason.

Quiet if left alone. But to survive, she would commit cruelty or discard pride without hesitation.

That was her essence.

If I asked politely first, she would surely provide an answer. Though the sword’s assistance might be required.

After hearing my explanation, Tang Sowol looked momentarily stunned before breaking into a bright smile and nodding vigorously.

“Yes! All of the words of the upright and honorable Brother Cheon are correct!”

“My thanks.”

She wore an expression as though at a loss for words, then shook her head as if it hardly mattered and spread her arms wide toward me.

So I gave her a light embrace.

“This is nice and all, but please listen to people until they finish speaking.”

“Was that not what you meant?”

“I meant that since you have already invoked Samadhi True Flame, you might burn away the dirt and blood on my clothes as well.”

“Samadhi True Flame can do that?”

“Father and Sister Hwarin seem able to.”

I rarely used it casually, so I was uncertain. But if those two could, then it must be possible. My inner qi and willpower were not inferior to theirs.

“I shall try.”

I stepped half a pace back and focused on her body—no, her clothing.

Perhaps because she was tired, she seemed more vulnerable than usual, stirring a faintly improper thought—

“Brother Cheon?”

“Ahem. Do not interrupt. I am concentrating.”

“That does not seem to be the case…”

She tilted her head suspiciously. Ignoring her, I quietly gathered my willpower.

If Samadhi True Flame were ordinary fire, burning only filth would be impossible.

But it was formed from my willpower and inner qi.

Just as I could cut only what I desired, so too could I burn only what I willed.

Fwoosh.

Flames bloomed along the hem of her garments, swelling gently.

Yet though fire clung to her clothes, her expression remained serene.

Because the flames were neither hot nor destructive.

It was simpler than I thought.

It felt similar to burning impurities from meridians with inner qi.

Having discovered this new application of Samadhi True Flame, we found a relatively intact building to rest in. Before long, Twin-Ghost Killing Sword arrived with an assassin in tow.

“As commanded, everything has been handled. This one is an assassin squad leader.”

“Well done. You must be tired—go rest. There are many empty rooms.”

When I demonstrated burning away the grime on his clothes with Samadhi True Flame, he first recoiled in shock, then examined his garments with fascination.

Smiling faintly at him, I turned to the assassin.

“But it is too early for you to rest. We have much to discuss.”

Gagged and glaring at me, the squad leader struggled.

I understood it was to prevent him from biting down on concealed poison, yet the sight was rather unsightly.

The interrogation yielded less than expected.

Not only was the squad leader tight-lipped… he genuinely knew little.

At the very least, he knew nothing about the relationship between the Heavenly Demon and the King of Assassins.

As for the second King of Assassins, he believed him to be nothing more than a hidden disciple of the former.

So I dealt with him appropriately and rested well. Then—

“Once you have gathered everything of value, set it ablaze. Ensure the fire does not spread.”

“Is that truly acceptable, Great Hero White Moon Sword Lord?”

“Of course. Did we not free all the servants and detained merchant families?”

“Yes.”

“And we agreed that the wealth would be transported by the Black Lotus Sect and divided with the Tang Clan at a reasonable ratio.”

“No one has voiced complaints regarding that.”

“Then why hesitate? …Ah, are you worried about hidden funds or land deeds? Forget it. If someone like the Golden Ghost Wolf King hid them, they would be difficult to find—and if found, the imperial court or his managers would have swallowed them long ago.”

“How do you know such things…? No, that is not what I meant.”

“Then speak plainly.”

“Even if you are now part of the orthodox faction, exterminating a household and burning it down seems excessive…”

“Ah.”

So that was his concern.

“I am doing it deliberately.”

“Deliberately?”

“Yes. So that the entire Central Plains knows the fate of one who not only rejected my duel request, but dared invoke my betrothed.”

“It is an example.”

Twin-Ghost Killing Sword, who had been standing dumbfounded, nodded firmly as though making up his mind.

“I understand the will of Lord White Moon Sword Demon.”

“It is Sword Lord.”

“Ah, yes.”

With a somewhat deflated reply, he nodded again.

Before long, the Golden Ghost Wolf King’s manor was engulfed in flames.

Why was it, I wondered—

That rumors began spreading that I intended to defect to the heterodox path and swallow the Black Lotus Sect whole.