Chapter 39

Chapter 39
Hyun-cheon-dae launched its operations with a mere trio of people.

Within the annals of the Murim Alliance, an inauguration like this was entirely unheard of. Whenever a new faction was formed, tradition dictated a lavish celebration accompanied by congratulatory tokens from various internal divisions.

Yet for Hyun-cheon-dae, no feast was prepared, and not a single visitor crossed their threshold.

People were once again walking on eggshells regarding Baek So-cheon. Furthermore, another formidable figure had entered the equation alongside the Alliance Lord: Je-gal Hyeon.

Under ordinary circumstances, Je-gal Hyeon would have been the very first to extend warm words. Instead, whispers were already spreading like wildfire across the grounds. Rumors claimed he had openly defied the Alliance Lord’s intentions to drag Baek So-cheon into this position. If those murmurs held any truth, no one dared disregard the Alliance Lord’s scrutinizing gaze, regardless of the Grand Strategist’s immense authority.

Down below, Im Choong and Beon Saeng had undertaken an exhaustive cleaning of the Hyun-cheon-dae premises.

They had polished the captain’s upper-floor quarters until not a single fleck of grime remained, following it up with an equally meticulous scrubbing of their own common office space on the level underneath.

Though the facility showed its years, it contained everything required for daily life. Several sleeping quarters were fitted with beds, allowing personnel to turn in directly after long nights of labor. The building also featured a dedicated kitchen for meals, a modest dining quarters, a calm alcove meant for sipping tea, and shelves intended for quiet study.

Once thoroughly tidied, the estate was genuinely pleasant. Best of all, they had the entire compound completely to themselves.

“Whew. Looks like we’ve wrapped up most of it. Excellent effort.”

“Same to you.”

Just as Im Choong and Beon Saeng wiped the perspiration from their foreheads and eased their aching spines, a familiar figure passed by with an easy greeting.

“You have both labored diligently.”

“Ah, yes. Welcome, sir.”

Beon Saeng casually raised his hand in a wave.

“Wait, that voice… who was that just now?”

“The Grand Strategist.”

Beon Saeng froze, staring blankly at his own outstretched palm in sheer panic.

“Gah!”

“Did you honestly just wave at the Grand Strategist like he’s an old drinking buddy?”

“He blew past so quickly…”

“Don’t be surprised if an enforcer shows up before dusk to sever that hand at the wrist.”

“Hey, don’t say cursed things like that!”

Only at that moment did the reality of their situation sink in. Their official posting at the headquarters had truly commenced.

Meanwhile, Je-gal Hyeon strode into Baek So-cheon’s upper-floor study.

“I welcome you.”

“How are the accommodations?”

“I am deeply grateful for you arranging such a splendid headquarters.”

“There is no need for thanks. It pains me that this was the best I could offer for now. I will ensure you are relocated to a superior residence before long.”

“I am more than pleased with what we have. What brings you to see me, though?”

“Take possession of this.”

Je-gal Hyeon reached out and presented an iron token.

“This tablet grants entry to every location I personally hold clearance for. I have already entered your profile into the records, so displaying this will guarantee unhindered passage.”

It was the Ascension Token.

Etched upon its surface, an imposing dragon ascended toward the heavens.

Baek So-cheon accepted the token with solemn respect. He knew full well the extraordinary political effort required to secure such boundless clearance.

“Furthermore, every scrap of tactical information funneled into the Hyun-cheon Pavilion’s strategic network will be forwarded straight to you without delay.”

“You have my deepest gratitude.”

Such an arrangement was possible purely because Hyun-cheon-dae was registered beneath the Hyun-cheon Pavilion. Even so, granting this degree of autonomy was a colossal political wager. Je-gal Hyeon was actively gambling his own standing on the line, driven solely by the determination to prevent a devastating war.

Je-gal Hyeon then ventured forward with a measured suggestion.

“If you have the desire to greet the Alliance Lord… you may accompany me.”

Baek So-cheon chose his words with matching deliberation.

“……I believe I will seek an audience another time.”

“Very well.”

Je-gal Hyeon turned to take his leave, though he lingered beside the frame of the doorway.

“As a matter of curiosity, where do you plan to tread first using that pass?”

Baek So-cheon cast a brief look toward the floor beneath them.

A knowing grin spread across Je-gal Hyeon’s features.

“In that case, you had better carry along some exceptional vintage.”

That very afternoon, Baek So-cheon descended into the Murim Alliance’s Thunder Prison.

Whispers claimed that even if the entire Alliance collapsed to an invasion, this fortress would stand as the absolute final stronghold, holding out even past the Alliance Lord’s personal pavilion.

Such was the impregnable defense and sheer dread associated with the facility.

The Thunder Prison was divided into three descending tiers reflecting the gravity of the inmates’ crimes. The White Prison held standard offenders; the Blue Prison housed those condemned for life; and tucked deep within the bowels was the Red Prison, reserved exclusively for the most dangerous entities.

Baek So-cheon walked straight toward the Red Prison, sunken into the absolute deepest subterranean level.

To descend that far, he had passed through six consecutive checkpoints of unmatched vigilance and encountered forty-six elite wardens. Several among their ranks possessed the martial caliber of Strike Team Captains or higher.

No inmate could hope to depart with their breath intact. Escaping even in death was impossible, as procedures were strictly enforced to prevent revival via esoteric methods like the Corpse Breath Technique.

The Red Prison possessed three sub-chambers of its own, and Baek So-cheon descended all the way to the lowest tier.

Only two souls remained incarcerated within this abyss: the final survivors of the Ten Great Evildoers.

They were monstrous villains out of dark legend, roaming the world even prior to the reign of the current Alliance Lord. The rest of their wicked cohort had perished in open battle or faced execution upon capture, leaving only these two alive in chains.

They occupied completely separate levels, and Baek So-cheon’s destination was the man confined at the very floor of the earth.

As he neared, an aged figure bearing an unkempt beard shoved his face between the heavy bars. Recognition flared in his eyes immediately.

“You wretched whelp, you’re still drawing breath?”

His booming roar revealed an inner vitality that was nowhere near the grave.

“Curse you! I’ll tear your flesh apart with my bare teeth!”

This old devil was Goe-yeo, one of the infamous Ten Great Evildoers.

He unleashed this river of vitriol because Baek So-cheon himself was the one who had subdued him and thrown him into this cage.

“Unbar this gate! Let us trade blows once more! You have no internal energy left, do you? I have none either! Face me like a man on equal terms! You pathetic scrap! You mongrel filth! Unlock this door!”

Baek So-cheon merely stood in quiet observation while the man spewed his fury.

Only after he had exhausted an entire arsenal of vile insults did Goe-yeo’s raging breath begin to settle.

“What did you crawl down here for? Have you come to gloat over me…?”

Mid-sentence, Goe-yeo’s nostrils twitched, picking up a scent on the stagnant air.

“Wait… what is that? What fragrance is this?”

His wide eyes dropped toward Baek So-cheon’s hip, where a vessel carved of bamboo swayed gently.

“You… could that be—?!”

“Indeed. Your cherished vintage from Hyeonghwa Village.”

Goe-yeo’s pupils shook violently. To call him fond of spirits was an understatement; within the vast jianghu, no living soul could rival his absolute enslavement to drink.

Baek So-cheon worked the stopper loose from the bamboo flask. A rich, intoxicating bouquet immediately swept through the damp underground stone.

“Aaargh!”

“Hand it over! Give it to me, I beg you!”

Baek So-cheon approached the bars, holding the flask as the desperate prisoner practically salivated.

“Nearer! Move closer!”

Goe-yeo shoved his arm through the barrier as far as his joints would allow.

Baek So-cheon held the vessel just an inch past the reaching fingers.

“You cruel demon! You’re deliberately trying to drive me mad!”

Without another tease, Baek So-cheon closed the distance and extended the drink.

Goe-yeo snatched the vessel with raw, feral instinct.

“This is… truly for me?”

“It is.”

Goe-yeo scrutinized the container with sudden wariness. He knew Baek So-cheon was not someone to offer unearned charity.

“Is there poison inside?”

“Why would I squander my rare poisons on a captive like you?”

“Then what is your game?”

“If you have no desire to drink it, return it.”

As Baek So-cheon made a motion to retrieve the bamboo flask, Goe-yeo jerked it toward his chest in terror of losing it.

Even if it were lethal venom, his thirst could no longer withstand the torment.

Goe-yeo tipped his head back and drank in ravenous gulps.

“Aaaah… Incredible… pure ambrosia.”

He swallowed mouthful after mouthful, roaring like an abandoned traveler discovering an oasis in the barrens.

Before long, not a single droplet lingered inside the vessel.

“Kaaah! If my life ended this instant, I would die without a single regret.”

A blissful grin split his weathered face. Naturally, the sharpness in his demeanor toward Baek So-cheon began to melt away.

“Why have you visited me?”

Baek So-cheon held the prisoner’s gaze calmly.

“You have sharp instincts. There is something I wish to ask of you.”

“About what?”

“The Black Heaven Alliance Lord…”

Before the final syllables could leave his lips, Goe-yeo hurled the empty container straight back through the iron bars.

Spinning around in fury, he threw his body down onto the stone bench tucked in the corner.

“Curse you to hell! After everything you inflicted upon me!”

Baek So-cheon bent down and retrieved the battered bamboo flask from the dirt.

“I shall return tomorrow.”

Goe-yeo kept his back turned, offering nothing but silence.

When the following day arrived, Baek So-cheon reappeared with an identical measure of the coveted liquor.

“Clear out!”

“As you wish. I will not press you with inquiries today—simply enjoy the drink.”

“Save your pathetic tricks and get lost!”

Baek So-cheon placed the bamboo vessel comfortably within the prisoner’s grasp just outside the threshold.

Then, right upon the cold stone floor, he assumed an inverted posture, balancing his entire body weight upon a single finger.

Lately, he had allowed his physical conditioning to lapse while dedicating himself to the Heavenly Thunder Nine Fists.

Minutes dragged into hours while perspiration streamed from his skin like rain.

After a long stretch of silence, Goe-yeo’s gruff voice broke from the gloom of the cell.

“What kind of deranged spectacle are you performing outside a man’s quarters?”

Baek So-cheon offered no reply, merely shifting into one-finger inverted push-ups. The cumbersome weighted bands remained clasped tightly around his limbs, yet his motions were incomparably smoother and sturdier than when he had first strapped them on.

He pushed his frame without a moment’s pause.

Goe-yeo knew full well that Baek So-cheon was entirely devoid of internal energy. The sight defied all reason.

*How can any mortal sustain that strain without qi circulating through his meridians?*

Pushed to the brink of collapse, Baek So-cheon clamped his jaw tight.

*Just one more repetition. Only one.*

It was that absolute final exertion that determined whether his physical vessel could transcend its limitations.

“Nngh.”

Only after driving the repetition through to completion did his arms give out, sending him to the stone.

“Huff… huff…”

Goe-yeo bellowed harshly at the exhausted man fighting for air.

“If you intend to play the clown, go find a street corner!”

Even as he spat those harsh words, his hand slid out between the iron bars, covertly retrieving the bamboo vessel before he retreated to drink in the shadowy corner.

The exact same scene unfolded over the subsequent days.

Baek So-cheon arrived carrying the prized brew and subjected his body to grueling exercises outside the cell.

Goe-yeo consumed the drink without uttering a word.

By the time the fifth day arrived, the rough edge in Goe-yeo’s voice had noticeably softened as he spoke up.

“What is it that you truly wish to learn concerning the Alliance Lord?”

He had stood as a paramount elder within the Black Heaven Alliance among the Ten Great Evildoers—a man holding deep personal ties to the Lord himself, far beyond a typical subordinate.

“There are several matters regarding him I need clarified.”

“Do you honestly believe I will betray him? Did you think my devotion was so cheap?”

“Your loyalty is beyond question. Truly. From the hour of your capture until now, you have never surrendered a single secret regarding the Black Heaven Alliance or its master.”

Having been captured in the waning moments before the war ceased, he had languished in this dungeon ever since. Every preceding attempt by interrogators to extract intelligence had ended in complete failure.

“You’re damn right! So why bother with this wretched pantomime?”

“Is it not high time you released that devotion? You have already fulfilled your duty and more.”

“What kind of drivel are you spewing, you lunacy-ridden brat?”

His shout echoed across the stone, yet a flicker of hesitation betrayed his eyes.

*…Why has the Lord never sent for me?*

He had no doubt that his capture was known. Had the Lord wished it, an exchange could easily have been orchestrated, given the sheer number of Murim Alliance captives held by the Black Heaven.

Perhaps for a lesser soldier they would do nothing, but Goe-yeo held steadfast faith that he would be reclaimed. Yet nearly four long winters had passed in isolation.

*The Lord must have insurmountable reasons.*

He repeated that rationalization to himself every waking day, yet his body and soul were slowly rotting away in the dark regardless.

At that very second, a voice cut through the damp air.

“Your Lord surely has his own circumstances to manage.”

Goe-yeo’s breath hitched in surprise. Those words mirrored his exact, unspoken thoughts.

“Those who stand at the pinnacle must bear their own quiet burdens, do they not?”

“Are you mocking my misery?”

“I am not.”

Baek So-cheon gave a quiet, straightforward answer before turning to depart. Nothing in his demeanor carried the sting of ridicule.

“I will return on the morrow.”

Goe-yeo watched his retreating silhouette through the thick bars, unable to speak.

*Stop playing your psychological games!*

Yet despite his defiance, an undeniable craving for the next day’s brew stirred within his chest. Along with it arose a persistent, gnawing curiosity.

*What could he possibly want to uncover about the Lord?*