Chapter 47

Chapter 47
Mount Gireon was situated in Gansu, nestled deep inside territory controlled by the Black Heaven Alliance. The vast majority of pugilists traversing those lands belonged directly to that organization.

Yet that did not guarantee that every single resident dwelling beneath their dominion was truly a disciple of the dark faction, even if the Alliance had erected outposts across the region to maintain absolute command.

A comparable dynamic governed the Murim Alliance. An innkeeper running an establishment right outside their grand headquarters could effortlessly hail from the criminal underworld, simply concealing their allegiance while managing their daily affairs.

Baek So-cheon took great care to travel with the utmost discretion. He shunned the broad highways, instead picking through secluded backwoods trails and clambering over rugged heights. He even kept the hefty, weighted leather bag from his daily regimen strapped to his shoulders. In essence, he converted the arduous trek into a method of martial cultivation.

Once Baek So-cheon decided to advance in complete silence and avoid entanglements, his passage remained entirely uninterrupted right up until he arrived at the foothills of Mount Gireon.

The matter pressing on his mind was the danger of being tailed. The scouts of the Black Heaven Alliance—or even those dispatched by the Alliance Lord himself—might be observing his steps. Fortunately, he was endowed with an instinctive awareness keen enough to uncover even Cheon-geuk’s most elusive stealth maneuvers. He felt absolute certainty that nobody was dogging his path.

Goe-yeo had explained that Ban Yun-saeng was holing up somewhere upon Mount Gireon. Provided the eccentric elder still drew breath, he was bound to be somewhere within the folds of this mountain.

Tracking down an individual among the sprawling, towering heights of Mount Gireon felt remarkably akin to scouring a vast meadow for a single dropped needle.

If destiny wills our paths to cross, then we shall encounter one another, Baek So-cheon reasoned.

Hitching the satchel firmly across his shoulder blades, he initiated his ascent. Scaling vertical stone faces using nothing more than his bare fingers, no incline proved too unforgiving for his advance.

Reaching the high summit, he swept his eyes across the vast perimeter. A collection of secondary ridges flanked the central peak on all sides.

Just where could you be hiding?

Five days elapsed after Baek So-cheon first set foot upon Mount Gireon. He trekked along the crests of numerous ridges, constantly probing the terrain for the faintest indication of a fellow human being.

Though he periodically crossed paths with woodsmen and collectors of wild herbs, he never once inquired after Ban Yun-saeng. Under circumstances where he had no way of determining their affiliations, reckless queries might frighten the recluse into slipping away into utter obscurity.

After ten full days spent wandering the treacherous heights, a heavy feeling of despair settled over Baek So-cheon for the very first time.

It is entirely possible that I will never locate him.

Had he possessed an eternity of leisure, he could gladly have scoured every cavern and ridge for seasons or entire years. Regrettably, he possessed no such luxury.

Intrusive, corrosive musings began to eat away at his resolve.

Perhaps this desperate journey to track down Ban Yun-saeng is nothing more than proof of how brittle my determination has grown.

How could the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law genuinely reconstruct an individual’s skeletal structure through mere human intervention?

Rather than squandering precious days out here, I ought to be back training to temper my physical endurance.

He sank down into deep inner reproach, only to drive himself onward with renewed ferocity.

No. I must not abandon the effort until the very last breath.

Then, on a day spent scouring the wild forest as he had done so many times before, searching through the thickets for signs of habitation, a sharp, piercing stench drifted past his nose.

This foul odor…

It was a scent he had encountered before. The unmistakable, pungent reek of an extraordinarily lethal venom!

With his interest thoroughly aroused, Baek So-cheon began tracing the odor toward its origin. Having developed a constitution immune to all poisons, he felt not the slightest inkling of dread.

Parting the dense undergrowth, he came upon an unfamiliar, solitary flower thriving in the shade.

Its surrounding foliage was a stark crimson red, framing a pale, milky bulb—perhaps an emerging bud or ripening fruit—nested squarely at its center.

Wrapped tightly around the root of the botanical marvel was a serpent, which served as the true origin of that suffocating, toxic stink.

The White-Horned Golden-Line Serpent!

What appeared to be a horn was actually a rounded outgrowth, yet it bore a pale white crest, while shimmering golden bands ran down the length of its coiled form. To those who practiced venomous cultivation, acquiring a single gall from this specific breed of viper was a dream of extraordinary value.

If so, then that peculiar blossom…

It was undoubtedly no ordinary wild growth. Extraordinary plants guarded by spiritual beasts of this caliber routinely rivaled the beasts’ own internal cores in sheer potency. The overlapping fragrances—the sweet nectarous essence of the flower combined with the noxious breath of the coiled viper—produced a sensory impression wholly unprecedented.

The White-Horned Golden-Line Serpent raised its head high, poised on the verge of striking. Baek So-cheon felt remarkably unbothered. Being impervious to venoms, and utterly certain he possessed the reflexes to evade the lunge of a spiritual snake, he stood his ground calmly.

It was precisely at that moment that he detected an approaching presence from the blind spot behind him.

As the figure closed the distance, Baek So-cheon spun around with blinding speed. Discerning no trace of murderous desire, he chose not to strike, instead locking the intruder’s wrist and clamping down upon his throat in a decisive restraining grasp.

Baek So-cheon paused abruptly. The person pinned before him was an old man, and while he could not explain the feeling with logic, an innate conviction told him instantly: this was the very person he had crossed mountains to find.

Ban Yun-saeng!

At that identical second, the serpent struck from the foliage.

Shiiik.

“Jump! You must not permit it to strike your flesh!”

Spurred by the elder’s desperate warning, Baek So-cheon kicked off the earth, pulling the old man backward alongside him to clear the viper’s trajectory.

The pair retreated a fair distance together. Seeing its target pull away, the lunging snake slithered back to resume its vigilant watch over its position.

“Whew. A stroke of fortune. Had its fangs pierced your skin, the Eternal Life Poison Forgetting Grass would have failed to bear its harvest this year.”

Reflecting upon the words, the warning had clearly not been uttered out of concern for his well-being. The old man’s anxiety had been entirely for the serpent—and for that rare herb known as the Eternal Life Poison Forgetting Grass.

Even having realized that, Baek So-cheon inclined his head with profound courtesy.

“Could it be that you are Senior Ban?”

“You actually journeyed here seeking my person? Indeed, I am the one named Yun-saeng. And who might you be?”

Baek So-cheon had half-expected an eccentric lunatic, yet Ban Yun-saeng appeared entirely composed and lucid. He did not even attempt to disguise who he was.

“I am Baek So-cheon.”

“Baek So-cheon?”

Witnessing the plain skepticism wrinkling the older man’s features, Baek So-cheon offered further clarification.

“If that name reminds you of the celebrated War God of the Murim Alliance, that is indeed who stands before you.”

“Is it truly you? What proof do you offer that I should accept such a claim?”

“If I recount the exact means by which I uncovered your retreat, will that earn your confidence?”

“From whom did you learn of my presence?”

“It was Hero Goe who shared the truth with me.”

“Ah!”

At that revelation, Ban Yun-saeng fully embraced his identity. Goe-yeo was the only living soul privy to his hidden dwelling. The man would never have surrendered such a secret to an everyday wanderer—only to someone of Baek So-cheon’s standing. Furthermore, with Goe-yeo locked away deep inside the subterranean confines of the Murim Alliance’s fortress, an individual would need exceptional influence to even gain an audience with him.

“There is little reason for us to linger here on our feet. Come, accompany me to my home.”

“Please lead the path.”

By a magnificent twist of good fortune, the pursuit of a spiritual beast and a miraculous herb had guided him straight into the presence of Ban Yun-saeng.

…

The residence of Ban Yun-saeng was an underground cavern.

Thick tangles of creeping vines and jagged rock formations obscured the entrance completely. Had he failed to intercept the elder this day, Baek So-cheon might well have paced past the spot countless times without noticing a thing.

The inner expanse of the cave proved vastly more spacious than its modest entry suggested. A simple cot constructed of timber, shelving units, and a broad study desk stood arranged across the room. Bundles of written texts were piled high everywhere, treating topics of virulents, spiritual flora, physical anatomy, the paths of meridians, and exceptionally scarce medicinal reagents.

“Here, partake in a bowl of wine fermented from wild fruits by my own hands. Would you care for a drink?”

“I would gladly accept.”

Baek So-cheon took a measured sip of the cup passed to him. It carried a pleasant sweetness and slid down remarkably smooth—truly an exceptional vintage.

“Does that ancient demon remain amongst the living?”

“He remains confined within the thunder prison. As hale and energetic as ever.”

“He would assuredly lose his senses over a vintage of this quality.”

The two had once forged a mutual camaraderie around the sharing of spirits. Ban Yun-saeng held a deep passion for the craft of brewing, whereas Goe-yeo cared only for emptying the flagon. It had been as uncomplicated as that.

Though Goe-yeo held a notorious place among the Ten Great Evils, the bond they had established through the exchange of drinks was completely unmarred by wickedness. Ban Yun-saeng had lived his entire life as a dedicated medical scholar, endlessly consumed by the theoretical study of the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law.

“You need harbor no concern regarding his supply of drink. In exchange for directing me toward your seclusion, he is almost certainly indulging in liquor day after day by now.”

“Can that be true? Excellent, truly excellent.”

“Upon my return, I shall make certain to recount to him what a splendid gentleman you are.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“He inquired whether I genuinely placed any trust in your ‘insane ramblings.'”

Baek So-cheon smoothly guided the flow of their speech toward the subject of the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law.

Given that Goe-yeo had mocked his theories as madness countless times across the years, Ban Yun-saeng merely smiled faintly and asked,

“And what of your own judgment? Do you personally hold that the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law can ever be achieved?”

To be entirely candid, Baek So-cheon did not entertain such a conviction. To reshape an adult’s skeletal structure and skin? It defied credulity. Even if such a wonder were conceivable, it would necessitate a stroke of heavenly favor that defied the cosmos itself, not something engineered through mortal technique.

Why, then, had he gone to such lengths to track down this man?

Baek So-cheon placed his hopes in an entirely separate form of metamorphosis.

Even if his physical frame and outer flesh were left wholly unaltered, his sole yearning was to see his fractured dantian mend itself, allowing his vanished internal energy to circulate once again.

To him, achieving that solitary goal would represent his own personal Hwan-gol Tal-tae.

“I firmly place my faith in those ‘insane ramblings.'”

Perceiving the absolute authenticity burning within Baek So-cheon’s gaze, the elder’s eyes suddenly flared with an intense, long-dormant flame.

Throughout his long years upon this earth, not a single peer had offered him genuine belief. People had invariably pointed fingers of ridicule or regarded him with condescending pity.

“Do you truly hold that the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law can be successfully enacted?”

“Had I not believed it, I would have had no cause to stand inside this cave.”

“What purpose brings you to me, then?”

“Administer the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law upon my own vessel.”

Ban Yun-saeng stiffened in utter shock. While he had harbored faint suspicions, he had never dared imagine that Baek So-cheon had journeyed all this way with the explicit intention of offering himself as a candidate.

“Use my flesh to demonstrate to all under heaven that your theories were correct.”

Ban Yun-saeng lapsed into profound silence. It was a lifelong aspiration that had remained completely out of reach. While he had never formally laid the dream to rest, deep down he understood the bitter futility of the pursuit.

“Yet why should it be you?”

“Examine my physical vessel for yourself.”

Baek So-cheon held his forearm outward.

Ban Yun-saeng placed his fingers over the wrist, adopting the posture of a physician checking the pulse.

Channeling a minute wisp of internal energy, he began probing the inner state of Baek So-cheon’s system.

“Whispers had reached my ears suggesting that you had been stripped of your internal qi… The rumors speak truly. Yet this physique of yours—it is by no means an ordinary vessel.”

“I have spent my days forging it through discipline.”

Ban Yun-saeng’s eyes narrowed with sharp appraisal.

“If one hopes to withstand the harrowing ordeal of the Great Law, the physical vessel must possess unmatched durability. What you possess is practically flawless.”

The three grueling years spent pushing his flesh through relentless, agonizing labor suddenly appeared as though they had been an orchestrated prelude specifically designed for this single moment.

This would not be the sudden, miraculous rebirth of a dying man collapsing into a pool harboring a ten-thousand-year fire carp, nor the miraculous baptism under the seeping waters of Gong-cheong Seok-yu.

This was the artificial execution of the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law—a tormenting multi-day rite that demanded superhuman physical fortitude simply to stay alive.

“That is hardly the sole qualification I offer.”

“What further attribute do you possess?”

“I have perused your written records. Within them, it was clearly noted that whoever undergoes the process requires not merely an ironclad frame, but an exceptional tolerance against deadly virulents.”

“That is entirely accurate.”

That single obstacle had been the ultimate downfall of every past trial. Not a single participant had proven capable of surviving the lethal poisons. Employing an antidote completely ruined the transformative properties of the ritual; yet without an antidote, the subjects inevitably perished in agony.

“My physical form is naturally immune to all manners of poison.”

Ban Yun-saeng’s eyes shook with profound astonishment. Barely anyone under the sky was privy to this unique constitution belonging to Baek So-cheon.

“A short while ago, you stated that had the creature struck me, the Eternal Life Poison Forgetting Grass would have perished without yielding its crop. Is that botanical anomaly the central component of the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law?”

“It is. During its fruition cycle every three years, the White-Horned Golden-Line Serpent must inject its deadly venom directly into the stem. Only through that process can the seed fully develop into a fruit. A candidate must swallow that toxic essence and survive the aftermath.”

The milky bulb was not a budding bloom after all, but the ripening fruit itself.

“I am entirely capable of withstanding that venom.”

Ban Yun-saeng was a man who reposed profound faith in the workings of destiny. Had he lacked such spiritual conviction, he could never have devoted his entire existence to such an unyielding obsession.

He had traversed every province of the Central Plains tracking rumors of spiritual creatures and extraordinary botanicals tied to the mystery of the Hwan-gol Tal-tae.

He had initially secluded himself within these peaks long ago the moment he first happened upon the Eternal Life Poison Forgetting Grass.

Across the three years since that initial discovery, no serpent had ever ventured near—and consequently, no fruit had ever materialized. Yet in this very year, the creature had finally revealed itself.

And at this precise juncture, Baek So-cheon had crossed into his sanctuary. How could this be interpreted as anything short of heavenly orchestration? This was doubly poignant given that old age was rapidly robbing his own limbs of the vigor needed to scale those mountain faces.

Ban Yun-saeng stared deeply into the warrior’s face, his voice ringing with heavy gravity.

“Can your resolve truly shoulder the consequences? Should the process fail, the only outcome is death. Every single subject who came before you breathed their last in agony.”

Baek So-cheon met the elder’s gaze without a trace of wavering, his voice utterly tranquil.

“If I refrain from daring this venture, I remain a dead man regardless.”

The Black Heaven Lord would undoubtedly arrange his demise when the hour came.

The supreme commander of that faction would seek retribution simply because Baek So-cheon had shattered the man’s grandest lifelong ambitions.

Perhaps it was pure contempt that caused the Lord to grant him this temporary reprieve—preserving his life only to orchestrate a theatrical, public execution in the midst of the grand conflict, witnessed by the entirety of the martial world.

Looking upon Baek So-cheon’s unyielding countenance, Ban Yun-saeng hardened his resolve.

“So be it. Let us undertake the venture.”