Seo Woojin returned to his quarters.

He had left the woman’s body somewhere out of the way and asked Woon Seorin to see to it. She would examine the wound and handle the rest herself.

Until she came back, he meant to let his head cool.

‘What in the world was that?’

Had Cheon Suryeon’s mind returned to her at the end? And if so, what had those last words meant?

Why did the Cheon Clan’s warriors treat her so carelessly?

Was it chance that he remembered the look Cheon Baekhyeon had turned on his own son? If a man looked at his own blood that coldly, how would he treat an adopted daughter?

Every question he had been unable to ask while fighting her came pouring out. Seo Woojin tried to put his head in order piece by piece, and it seemed only to tangle further for the effort.

“Haah…”

In the end he rubbed his face and let out a deep sigh.

‘And the greatest question of all is that martial art.’

His experience was not extensive, but even at a glance it had not felt like a normal art.

Strength he could barely stand against. A pressure both uncomfortable and foul. A killing intent that seemed to pierce him through.

‘A public enemy’s martial art? What rotten luck. I’m the one who witnessed it, and my discernment is too shallow to identify it.’

It was an absurd blind spot.

Even so, he was certain now why the Cheon Clan had kept her so thoroughly hidden. If they had forced an art that abnormal on her, it could be made an issue on grounds of common decency as much as politics.

“It’s me.”

While he was still following the thought, Woon Seorin’s voice came from outside. She came in without waiting for his answer.

Seo Woojin scratched his cheek, sheepish.

“Ah… yes. You’re already in, but do come in.”

He tossed the joke out lightly. Woon Seorin’s expression stayed grave.

“I understood you went out yesterday because you had something to do.”

Seo Woojin avoided her eyes. He had gone without telling her, thinking she would not care for his meeting Cho Igyeom.

From her side it must have been bewildering — for him to turn up at that hour before dawn with a corpse on his back, asking for help.

Seo Woojin cleared his throat softly and nodded.

“Ah, yes. I did.”

“And this morning you arrive carrying a body?”

“I’m sorry. I meant to tell you, but time was short—”

Woon Seorin let out a deep sigh and sat down across from him.

“I examined the wound on the body you brought. As you thought, it wasn’t thugs’ work. It was the hand of a first-rate master at the least.”

For an instant, killing intent came off him.

Woon Seorin called out at the sudden change, alarmed.

“Young Master Seo?!”

Realizing his lapse, he put it down in a hurry.

“My apologies.”

She glared at him a moment without speaking, then sighed faintly.

“What is this? What exactly have you been doing?”

Seo Woojin made a low sound in his throat. He hoped — sincerely — that the woman had not died for the reason he suspected.

“That woman was… most likely killed by a Cheon Clan warrior.”

“What?”

Pressing the rising fury down, Seo Woojin explained everything that had happened.

When he had finished, Woon Seorin made a low sound of her own.

“If that’s true…”

“The trouble is I have no idea at all what art Lady Cheon has learned. Does the Military Advisor perhaps—”

Woon Seorin shook her head.

“Unfortunately, it’s the first I’ve heard of it too. A side effect that takes her reason and demands she kill. And it’s strange in itself that she learned an art that dangerous and it has stayed hidden this long.”

“Which only means the Cheon Clan has been thorough.”

Seo Woojin pressed a hand to his forehead.

‘It’s a pity, but there’s no way to identify Lady Cheon’s art. I can hardly shut her up somewhere and wait for her to lose her reason.’

So was he to let this chance go?

“How was it?”

Her voice broke into his thoughts.

“How was what?”

“You fought Lady Cheon, however briefly. That you’re standing in front of me means you’re the stronger — doesn’t it?”

Seo Woojin let out a dry laugh.

“It isn’t that simple. Lady Cheon had no reason left in her, for one thing.”

Woon Seorin’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’ll lose?”

“No. I’ll win.”

“Then that’s enough. Whatever she’s learned, she won’t be able to use it in an official setting. It’s a shame to miss the chance to press the Cheon Clan, but for now think only of what’s in front of you.”

Seo Woojin gave a small nod.

She was right. Whatever else, he need only win the duel.

Killing her would end the matter.

[Kill… me… Please.]

Seo Woojin flinched.

Cheon Suryeon’s desperation came back to him. A woman who wanted death.

Would granting it, then, be helping her?

The question could not run long.

“S-something’s happened!!”

A warrior shouted from outside the door.

“What is it?”

At Woon Seorin’s question the warrior opened the door and came in, knelt, and bowed his head.

“Th-there’s a disturbance at the Dark Alliance’s main gate!! Th-the Crazed Fiend has appeared!!”

Up!

Seo Woojin and Woon Seorin shot to their feet together.

The Crazed Fiend, out of nowhere.

“What do you mean by that. Explain properly.”

At Seo Woojin’s question, the reporting warrior’s voice shook harder.

“W-well… he appeared out of nowhere saying his house is gone because of the Young Lord, so he’s to take r-responsibility… At first no one recognized him, so they went out to drive him off, and—”

A dry laugh came out of Seo Woojin.

“B-bring him to me at once! No! I’ll go myself!”

Seo Woojin was out of the room before Woon Seorin could stop him.

In truth she had no presence of mind to try. Simply thinking through the fallout of the Crazed Fiend’s appearance was enough to give her a headache.

Which left only the warrior who had come to report, unable to move one way or the other, watching for a cue.

Thud!!

“Kuh!”

A big man, thrown down on the ground, let out a groan of pain.

The man who had put him there clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Tsk, tsk. Somehow the ones these days aren’t as satisfying to hit as the old ones were. At least the dark path fellows of the old days had some fight in them.”

Someone who heard it let out a dry laugh.

How many warriors lay collapsed around that old man now? Twenty at the very least.

Had he killed them all, that would at least be comprehensible. But watching him beat them the way dust rises on a rainy day was hard to credit even while seeing it.

And having watched it, how was anyone to take him on?

Especially when the old man was said to be the Crazed Fiend, the name on everyone’s lips of late.

The old man — the Crazed Fiend — pointed at someone with a look of displeasure. The one who had just laughed.

The man pointed at himself with a trembling hand.

“M-me?”

The Crazed Fiend nodded, as though the whole thing were a nuisance.

“Yes, you. Come here and get down.”

“Sorry?”

“You don’t take my meaning. Shall I read that as wanting to end up like the rest of them?”

The man glanced once at the fallen, then ran over and got down in front of him.

At that the old man looked satisfied, and sat on his back as though it were a chair.

“Urk!”

“Bear it. What’s so hard about a young fellow carrying one old man. Looking at the state of you lot, walking straight in would only make things awkward for him. One of them went inside a while back — he’ll come out if I wait.”

The Crazed Fiend looked over his surroundings once.

A wall high and solid enough to be called a rampart ran endlessly around the Alliance’s outer bounds. The gate was massive enough that even opening and closing it looked like labor. Above it, the signboard with its writhing black dragon was gaudy enough to sting the eyes.

The Crazed Fiend shook his head.

“Out of their minds, the lot of them. As if a wall this high will protect them. As if that gaudy signboard raises their standing. Tsk, tsk. A mess. An absolute mess. How much blood and sweat did they suck dry to pile up this wall.”

It was open criticism of the Dark Alliance, and no one stepped forward.

Which made the Crazed Fiend angrier still.

“Useless bastards. If someone insults your master, oughtn’t you at least bark? What makes you better than the mongrels rolling about in the market streets?”

A few flared up, but none of them stepped out. Not with their comrades still in view, groaning in pain.

Just as the old man was about to spit out another curse—

“Elder—!!”

Seo Woojin appeared, right on time, his breathing rough — he had run the whole way without pause.

“Ngh…”

The Crazed Fiend looked displeased with him too.

“Well done, boy.”

He commended the man who had served as his chair, and got up.

“What kept you, coming out only now! Thanks to you, your own subordinates are hurt!”

It was a sudden scolding. Seo Woojin welcomed him with a bright smile all the same.

“So you’ve come at last! Welcome! Had you sent word ahead, you needn’t have gone to the trouble of waiting. Come inside, please. Ah — take everyone who’s hurt to the Infirmary. I’ll speak to the Military Advisor, so they may rest from their duties until they’ve recovered.”

Having arranged the situation in a matter of moments, he took the Crazed Fiend and vanished inside.

The warriors left behind could only stare after them, dumbfounded.

Seo Woojin led the Crazed Fiend toward a quiet stretch of the grounds, to meet as few people as possible on the way to his quarters.

He glanced back and spoke bluntly — the exact opposite of the welcome he had given a moment before.

“What is this. Turning up like this out of nowhere.”

The Crazed Fiend frowned and named the change at once.

“Look at this fellow. In front of everyone you greet me like the gladdest thing in the world, and now your tone is like that?”

Seo Woojin let out a faint sigh.

“After you made a scene like that, what am I to do? Either mobilize warriors to seize you on the spot, or act as though I’d expected you all along.”

“Hah!”

“And seizing you would be a ruinous loss against the investment, so what choice is there. It has to be the latter. Won’t they think, ‘the man who drove out the Crazed Fiend knew he was coming’? I don’t know what you said out there, but those words may sound rather different now too.”

The Crazed Fiend seemed genuinely startled, and laughed one dry laugh after another.

“Ghastly creature. You thought all that through in that little space of time? You’re no ordinary boy, are you.”

Seo Woojin looked at him sourly.

“So why have you come? And with all that commotion, no less.”

The Crazed Fiend answered as though it were obvious.

“Did I not tell you? That I would visit before long.”

Seo Woojin recalled the old man’s parting words and grumbled.

“I didn’t know that meant arriving quite so spectacularly.”

“Hmph. Did you expect the Crazed Fiend to request a meeting politely?”

Put that way, there was nothing to say.

Seo Woojin gave it up and studied his face. The hair was as matted and wild as before, but the color in it looked better than last time.

Though the pain sunk deep in those eyes would be there still.

“What are you glaring at. Curious whether I’m still mad?”

Seo Woojin’s face twisted.

“Must you put it like— I was only looking because I was worried about your health.”

“Hmph. The cat weeping for the mouse. And you the one who cut this old man down with a sword, meaning to kill him.”

“No, that was—!”

“Enough. Only know that thanks to you I’ve come back to hell.”

Seo Woojin gave up arguing and walked on.

“So what’s your purpose in coming? Since I dragged you back to hell, have you come for revenge?”

“Hmph. You pulled my house down, did you not. Then isn’t it only human decency that you take responsibility for me?”

“Ah. Is that so? Clan Head Cho works fast. To think the house is already down.”

A sigh came out of him unbidden. He might be taking on a needless burden here.

“And.”

The low voice caught Seo Woojin’s step. He turned and looked back.

The Crazed Fiend’s expression was serious now — detached somehow, and somehow like a man looking into the distant past.

“And. Though I have come back to hell, thanks to it I was given time to say goodbye to my son.”

A sad but untroubled smile hung at his mouth.

“That is owed to you. So I have come to repay it.”

It left Seo Woojin’s feelings tangled.

This was a man who had let go of his own mind rather than accept his son’s death. That he had managed to say his goodbyes made something in Seo Woojin’s chest ache.

His grandfather must have felt the same, losing his own son and daughter-in-law.

Seo Woojin meant to welcome him properly then, with a smile.

“More than anything, I was curious.”

“…?”

“About why the grandson of my friend the Sword Saint is in the Dark Alliance.”

Had it not been for that last remark.

(End of Chapter 41)