Return of the Sword Emperor - Chapter 25

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 25 Chanhuiyok (3)

The prison where Chanhuiyok’s inmates lived occupied a limestone cavern formed naturally in a valley north of Cheonmunsan, converted to serve as a jail.
A massive central chamber anchored the structure; prison cells lined the outer walls, each housing five or six inmates together.
Seven tiers of cells rose upward, with the most heinous criminals consigned to the lowest depths.
And beneath the vast chamber, at its very bottom, lay Geumji—a place where only a single shaft of light penetrated.
There was no path leading down to Geumji.
Iron chains lowered from above, attached to wooden cages, served as the only means of ascending and descending. But unlike the other inmates who climbed topside to labor in the mines, those locked in Geumji were denied any egress whatsoever.
Once sealed in Geumji, a prisoner remained there for life—and should death come, their corpse was left to rot where it fell.
Now a new inmate had been remanded to that abyss.
For the first time in six years, the prisoners confined to Geumji crowded forward to greet the newcomer.

“Khehehehe! Who is this? Isn’t it Ban An’s junior?”

A grotesque figure with matted, wild hair emerged, his voice rasping like metal dragged against stone, chains coiled around his legs trailing behind him.

“…….”

Deng Bi regarded the apparition with an impassive gaze, yet his composure masked genuine shock—he had not expected anyone in this forsaken place to recognize him.

“You don’t remember this old man?”
“Who…are you?”
“Khehehehe! Still so discourteous.”

The figure swept aside the hair covering his face, revealing visage marred by hideous scars—whether from before his imprisonment or inflicted within these depths, none could say.

“Gwi Myeon Sasin?”
“Khehehehe! So your memory stirs at last.”
“It has been…a long time, senior.”
“Long indeed. This old dog has festered in this cursed pit for nearly twenty years now.”

Gwi Myeon Sasin gazed upward with eyes burning with resentment, following the chains that swayed far above in the gloom.

“But how did you end up dragged to this place? Time has passed, and a talent like yours should have risen to a respectable rank within Madoryeon by now.”
“That is indeed what occurred.”

Deng Bi answered tersely, unwilling to elaborate on how he’d fallen into Jeongmumaeng’s hands.
One of the gathered inmates stirred forward, but Gwi Myeon Sasin raised a hand, checking him.

“Leave him be. The fellow doesn’t yet grasp the nature of his new home.”

Gwi Myeon Sasin swept his gaze across Deng Bi with a sardonic smile, taking in every detail.
An Iron Chain pierced through his Gyeongjeonghyeol acupoint still held him; steel shackles bound his feet.
Gwi Myeon Sasin flicked a finger against the Iron Chain running through Deng Bi’s Gyeongjeonghyeol.

“They’ll remove this chain after a couple of months, once they’re satisfied you’ve been sufficiently marinated in San Gong Dok.”

At the mention of San Gong Dok, Deng Bi’s pupils twitched.

“Cruel bastards. If they’d destroyed your Dantian from the start, you’d have surrendered to despair. But they don’t work that way—they keep hope alive. The cursed hope that if your Mugong recovers, you could escape and claim your vengeance.”

Gwi Myeon Sasin’s eyes glinted with madness.

“But as time crawls forward, you learn how futile such hope truly is. Nothing grows here—no grass, no plants. All there is to eat are a few vermin with no nourishment. To survive, you rely on scraps they toss down every third day from above, seasoned with San Gong Dok. That’s how your body and mind both wither.”

Gwi Myeon Sasin’s gaze shifted toward the left.
Two companions lay sprawled on the frigid, lifeless floor, waiting for death itself to collect them.
Three days without consciousness; by tomorrow at the latest, their breath would cease.

“But!”

Gwi Myeon Sasin’s head snapped toward Deng Bi, his gaze piercing.

“You hold on to the very end. After all, who truly knows what the world will bring?”

Deng Bi felt an inexplicable unease wash over him as he met Gwi Myeon Sasin’s luminous eyes.
In those eyes that spoke of despair, he perceived something else entirely—hope.

“So don’t you surrender too early either. Who’s to say salvation won’t descend from heaven itself?”
“…….”

Deng Bi offered no reply, though Gwi Myeon Sasin seemed indifferent to his silence.

“We can discuss such matters later. For now, let’s exchange introductions with those we share this place with.”

At Gwi Myeon Sasin’s gesture, a grotesque figure five paces away—iron chains wound thick around his neck—opened his mouth.

“Heuk Gwang.”

When Deng Bi didn’t react, Gwi Myeon Sasin added quietly,

“He is the Crazed Emperor of Sun and Moon.”

At that notorious title, Deng Bi’s face flickered with shock as he studied Heuk Gwang anew.

‘So this madman has been locked in Chanhuiyok all along.’

The Crazed Emperor of Sun and Moon was a figure from a previous era—a genius and lunatic whose deeds had left their mark on Murim’s history. His massacre of an entire clan for the absurd reason that its members had stared at him still echoed in people’s conversation.

“This old one is called Wang Wi.”

In stark contrast to Heuk Gwang’s short stature and bloated frame, a second grotesque figure—tall and gaunt—introduced himself.
Gwi Myeon Sasin interjected once more,

“A Kill Every Seven Steps.”

No further explanation was needed.
At those words, Deng Bi recalled a cataclysm from fifteen years past—an upheaval that shook Murim to its core.
On a warm spring day, a massacre unfolded at the Akyangru.
That day, Wang Wi led his men through that pleasure house and indiscriminately slaughtered everyone connected to it—courtesans, servants, porters, gamblers—ninety-nine souls in all.
The epithet “A Kill Every Seven Steps” didn’t stem so much from the prowess of his Salye technique, by which he could complete a murder before taking seven paces, but rather from the fact that the corpses strewn throughout the Akyangru that day were spaced roughly seven paces apart.

‘Filth. As if the power of Haomun means anything.’

Knowing full well that the massacre at Akyangru had been orchestrated to seize control of Haomun, Deng Bi’s jaw tightened in disgust.
Then another figure—whose appearance stood in stark contrast to the others, immaculately groomed—bowed respectfully.

“I am Ban An. People call me the Jade-Faced Gentleman.”
“…….”

Layer upon layer of darkness.
Before Ban An had even finished speaking, Deng Bi’s gaze turned cold with revulsion.
The greatest lecher and murderer in all of Murim.
His beauty was so otherworldly that legends seemed to walk among men; his silver tongue was unmatched, and the women who had cast aside their virtue at his seduction were beyond counting.
What made him truly monstrous was that Ban An didn’t stop at mere indulgence—murder always followed.
Nor did he attempt to hide his crimes; instead, as if boasting, he would sear his signature mark onto his victims’ bodies.
Scores of victims fell from sects within both Jeongmumaeng and Madoryeon, enough that the two warring factions had set aside their hatred and united in pursuit of him—Ban An’s atrocities were so grave that heaven itself seemed to recoil.

“This creature has been imprisoned here for six years now. And the astounding part, do you know what it is? He’s still in his twenties.”

Gwi Myeon Sasin laughed with a rasping cackle, ruffling Ban An’s neatly combed hair and his reasonably tidy clothes.

“To groom yourself so meticulously in a place like this—that takes real skill, I’ll grant you.”
“One must always be prepared, no matter the time or place, if one wishes to pluck the flower.”

Deng Bi’s expression twisted.
Just as he felt bile rising at the man’s pretentious drivel—as though he fancied himself some lofty scholar—the last of the four strangers spoke quietly.

“Do Sang Cheon is my name.”

Deng Bi’s eyes widened in surprise upon hearing it.

“Do Sang Cheon? You wouldn’t be the Soul-Seizing—”
“I have been called that.”

Do Sang Cheon answered curtly and melted into the darkness.

“Ah, so it was him.”

Gwi Myeon Sasin’s curiosity was kindled by Deng Bi’s remark.

“You knew him?”
“Not personally, but the name Soul-Seizing Piper is impossible to ignore. He’s the man who killed an elder of Jeongmumaeng itself. Even in our circle, he was quite the topic of conversation.”

Deng Bi had been staring after Do Sang Cheon for some time when Gwi Myeon Sasin’s throat-clearing drew his attention back.

“Deng Bi, of Madoryeon.”

No further explanation followed.
Thus Deng Bi became part of Geumji.

* * *

Four days had passed since the escort party arrived at Chanhuiyok.
The wounded devoted themselves to recovery, while those in decent condition spent their time resting in their quarters or wandering the grounds of Chanhuiyok, enjoying a leisurely pace.

“It really was something extraordinary.”

Namgung Ho, returning with Ha Jo Gyeong from a tour of the mine where Chanhuiyok’s prisoners labored, dispensed exclamations freely.

“On the way down through the valley, I didn’t feel it so acutely. But the moment we arrived and that vista opened before us…….”

Even now, remembering it made him shudder, and his whole body trembled.

“Endless caverns threading together like a maze—how else would you describe it…….”
“An ant colony.”

Ha Jo Gyeong offered this quietly.

“Yes, an ant colony! That’s exactly it.”

Namgung Ho, pointing triumphantly at Ha Jo Gyeong, launched into a lengthy account of the mine he’d witnessed.

“Though the yield seems rather poor, from what I could tell.”

Yu Geom Ha, who had been cleaning his blade, looked up at Ha Jo Gyeong’s observation.

“I’ve heard that too. They get plenty of other minerals, but the actual amount of Junseok they’re after is disappointingly small.”
“Exactly. The workers guiding us said that when they blast a boulder the size of a house, the Junseok they recover amounts to barely this much.”

Namgung Ho thrust his fist forward, his expression one of bewilderment.

“Remarkable, truly. I never imagined that mixing a little of something could shift a weapon’s caliber so dramatically.”

At Ha Jo Gyeong’s remark, Yu Geom Ha let out a soft laugh.

“It’s the fruit of generations of research by those who refine ore. They’d be just as startled seeing our martial techniques, wouldn’t they? Think of it as a completely different realm altogether.”
“There is one thing that puzzles me, though.”

Namgung Ho, who had been brimming with excitement, assumed a serious expression for the first time.

“What is it?”
“The defenses here don’t seem nearly as formidable as the mine’s scale and strategic importance would suggest. The overall garrison at Chanhuiyok doesn’t appear especially large either. Honestly, if Madoryeon were determined, taking this place wouldn’t be particularly difficult.”

The answer came not from Yu Geom Ha, but from Yu Seol Ran, who had been resting in the corner.

“It’s because they’re connected to the authorities.”
“The authorities?”
“Yes. A substantial portion of the junseok mined here is required to be submitted to them. That’s why the Saokbu exists—to keep watch and ensure nothing is diverted. Officially, its function is for the inspectors of the outer and inner offices to monitor whether the officials commit corruption, but in reality, that’s not how it works. The head of the Saokbu is naturally connected to the authorities.”
“Now that you mention it, I did sense something foreign about those watchers—so they were the authorities’ people.”

Namgung Ho furrowed his brow, recalling the sharp gaze of those who had observed them moving through the mine.
Just then, the door opened and Woo Gon and Yong Cheol Seung entered.
Woo Gon, his empty sleeve fluttering, and Yong Cheol Seung supporting him—there was something forlorn about their appearance.

“So you went down into the valley? Worth seeing?”

At Yong Cheol Seung’s question, Namgung Ho nodded, struggling to hide his embarrassment.

“Well enough. By the way, how is Won Jong doing?”
“He went this morning—why are you asking? Same as always. Though his mouth still works, so I’d say he’s managing.”

As the mood grew suddenly heavy at the mention of Won Jong, Yong Cheol Seung raised his voice.

“Why is the atmosphere like this? The fact that we all escaped with our lives in that situation is nothing short of miraculous. Yes, his Dantian being shattered is regrettable, I’ll admit, but for now it’s enough to simply be grateful that he’s alive.”
“You’re right. I myself have become disabled twice, and every morning when I open my eyes, I give thanks for being alive.”

Woo Gon swung his empty sleeve and smiled.

“So please, don’t take things so seriously. As long as we have enemies in the Murim, this is something that could happen to any of us at any moment. Anyway, what were you all discussing so amusedly?”
“We were talking about the mine below the valley. The scale of it is simply staggering.”

At Namgung Ho’s reply, Woo Gon chuckled and nodded.

“I was quite shocked the first time I saw it too.”
“Really? You’ve been to Chanhuiyok before?”

Yong Cheol Seung turned to him in surprise.

“Didn’t I tell you?”
“Not at all.”
“Strange. I thought I did. I went there a long time ago. Not escorting prisoners—I passed through briefly on the way back from a mission. It was when I was the youngest. Over a decade ago now.”
“Ha ha! You as the youngest—now that’s a legend I’ve only heard in tales!”

Everyone burst out laughing at Yong Cheol Seung’s jest.

“Time passes, so it must have changed considerably.”
“I can’t say whether things are different from before. But there was certainly a significant gap between what friends who came to help told me and what I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

At Namgung Ho’s words, Woo Gon nodded.

“There’s something to be said for seeing it with your own eyes.”

The conversation about the Mine continued for some time longer.
As the discussion began to wind down, Woo Gon turned to Yu Seol Ran with a question.

“By the way, how long are you staying?”
“Nothing’s been set in stone. But we won’t move until the wounded have recovered enough to travel long distances, even if they’re not fully healed.”

Upon hearing Yu Seol Ran’s answer, Dok Go Jin turned his thoughts to the condition of the wounded lying in their sickbeds.
Won Jong had sustained no light injuries, but the wounded from Bogmadan were in truly dire straits. Yi Cheon Hu had only regained consciousness last night, and some had already lost their lives upon arrival at Chanhuiyok.

‘So we have at least a month’s grace,’ he thought.

Dok Go Jin’s eyes closed slowly.
A month was long, but given the unpredictable variables that could arise at any moment, the time to act was now.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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