Chapter 50

Chapter 50
Sitting in a meditative posture with crossed legs, Baek So-cheon focused on guiding his internal energy. A wave of profound sentiment washed over his chest, bringing tears near the surface as he reflected on how extensive the gap had been since he last did this. He was cultivating the Bu-dong Myeong-wang Sim-beop rather than his former breathing method. Celebrated across the eras as an unparalleled technique, its caliber completely eclipsed any practice he had previously learned.

An instinctive gasp parted his lips. Experiencing the true energy flow firsthand proved incomparable to merely visualizing the steps from text. The vital energy rushed through his channels with unprecedented velocity and intensity, while the reserves condensing inside his newly formed dantian exhibited an extraordinary clarity. Given that this was his introductory attempt—and that it was entering a vessel that had been entirely bare—the volume being amassed appeared somewhat modest.

Realizing there was a method to test its capabilities, Baek So-cheon grew comfortable with the flow of the Bu-dong Myeong-wang Sim-beop and retrieved a container from his belongings. Inside rested the century-old ha-su-o presented to him by Wang Gon in the past, an item he had never imagined turning to for his own benefit.

It had stayed stored until this moment, yet inspecting it closer revealed it to be of lesser grade. Higher-grade specimens of comparable age typically commanded several times the value, which plainly explained why it had served as a bribe. Even so, its worth was undeniable. The brutal conflicts dividing righteous and dark factions had decimated the Central Plains’ supply of spirit herbs, rendering quality specimens exceptionally scarce—particularly those reputed to hold a thousand or ten thousand years of potency, which carried astronomical prices.

Baek So-cheon chewed through the ha-su-o with deliberate care. In contrast to the bitter Eternal Life Poison-Net Herb fruit ingested previously, this herb tasted delightfully sweet, carrying a pleasant fragrance reminiscent of honeyed nectar. Swallowing every fragment, he immediately mobilized the Bu-dong Myeong-wang Sim-beop.

Typically, an average martial artist partaking of a century-old ha-su-o might obtain between five and ten years of cultivated reserve from a standard batch. His lower-tier sample would commonly provide four to nine years, whereas prime specimens might grant six to eleven. Given his seasoned martial comprehension, Baek So-cheon possessed the skill to harvest an elixir’s absolute limit, and relying on history’s greatest heart method would only heighten the outcome.

He guided the circulation, breaking down the concentrated medicinal essence of the ha-su-o and directing it along his pathways. The rushing current far exceeded the lone droplet of power he had initially perceived, sending involuntary tremors across his frame as it traveled. After touring his meridians completely, the enriched force gathered into his new center.

Completing an entire heavenly cycle, Baek So-cheon released a soft exhalation that carried both satisfaction and mild disappointment. The total internal reserve settled in his dantian equaled just three years. By normal measures, it should have reached nine, confirming his earlier intuition that the accumulation was proceeding in smaller quantities.

Nevertheless, those three years carried a purity beyond anything he had ever known. The astonishing refinement was breathtaking. While the superior heart method might have accounted for a tenth of the quality, the remainder stemmed entirely from the newly forged dantian, which stood fundamentally superior to his former one.

He quickly recognized the principle: building reserves in this vessel demanded greater effort, but the energy distilled within was exceptionally potent. Striking with power of such purity would naturally unleash substantially greater devastation.

He pondered the possibilities if fate allowed him to amass three complete cycles—a full one hundred and eighty years—within this vessel. Back when his original dantian was intact, he had possessed three cycles thanks to the vast resources provided by the Murim Alliance. If he could restore that identical baseline, elevated by supreme purity alongside the ultimate heart method and his martial strikes, his might would decisively eclipse his former peak.

Naturally, realizing this would not be simple. Even factoring in the exceptional speed of the Bu-dong Myeong-wang Sim-beop, accruing a hundred and eighty years purely via routine meditation would consume seven to eight decades. Securing rare medicines or unique encounters was unavoidable.

At the very least, he needed to establish a solitary full cycle to stand any chance against either the Black Heaven Alliance Lord or the Blood Cult Leader. Even that might prove inadequate, as he had suffered defeat previously despite possessing three complete cycles. During his period of recuperation, the Black Heaven Lord had likely advanced even further, while the emergent threat of the Blood Cult Leader had attained supreme mastery over Hyeol-cheon-gi.

Setting those harsh realities aside, a broad smile spread across his face. For the present moment, this was plenty. Though merely three years of power, its density felt substantial enough to shatter stone. It felt as if he had obtained an extra life—one that could rescue him from mortal danger when least expected.

Furthermore, because this new vessel resided hidden behind the remains of his ruined dantian, foreign probes would detect nothing out of the ordinary. Anyone inspecting him would only sense the shattered core, keeping the truth hidden. This protection was paramount; should the Black Heaven Lord discover his ability to cultivate once more, execution would follow swiftly, whereas current survival relied on his foe’s haughty amusement.

Until he secured at least one full cycle, not a soul could discover that his dantian was restored. In the meantime, he would acquire whatever elixirs he could find, ingest them, and diligently cultivate with the Bu-dong Myeong-wang Sim-beop, maintaining absolute discretion until he could protect himself.

With his path forward determined, Baek So-cheon concluded his prolonged meditation and opened his eyes. Ban Yun-saeng looked toward him, his expression heavy with feeling, and remarked on how exceptionally fortunate the outcome was.

Baek So-cheon acknowledged that it was entirely thanks to the elder. When Ban Yun-saeng inquired whether the endeavor should be regarded as a triumph or an outright failure, Baek So-cheon answered that regardless of labels, he considered it a magnificent success. Ban Yun-saeng laughed warmly and offered his congratulations.

The grand transformation of Hwan-gol Tal-tae had technically fallen short, yet the elder had found a glimmer of possibility amid the shortcoming. If others with Baek So-cheon’s fortitude existed and a steady supply of Eternal Life Poison-Net Herb fruit could be obtained, repeating the divine rite might eventually bear fruit. Recognizing the futility of the thought, Ban Yun-saeng still smiled with genuine warmth, feeling a sense of peace he had not experienced in an age.

He asked what Baek So-cheon planned to do next, to which the young man replied that he would journey back to the Alliance. The elder requested that he convey his regards to Go-yeo, handing over a token for her, which Baek So-cheon agreed to deliver.

Ban Yun-saeng asked if he still intended to halt the conflict, and Baek So-cheon affirmed his resolve. The elder lightly remarked that should he succeed, he would claim a portion of the praise, to which Baek So-cheon readily agreed. Laughing that he was not shameless enough to take undue credit, Ban Yun-saeng noted that sharing in a noble deed was more than enough, reminding him to look after his own life rather than sacrificing everything for the martial realm or the Alliance.

Looking out the window toward the drifting clouds, Ban Yun-saeng wondered aloud if mastering the Hwan-gol Tal-tae Dae-beop had truly been his own longing, questioning who he might have become had he never met his master and embarked on this arduous road.

Baek So-cheon resonated deeply with those sentiments. He too had lived entirely consumed by an overarching mission, treating it as his sole purpose. Though he harbored no regrets, the thought of what existence might look like outside that destiny occasionally crossed his mind. He promised to remember the advice, stating that once the warfare was resolved, he would live entirely for his own happiness.

Ban Yun-saeng praised that resolve, but abruptly coughed up dark blood and slumped forward. Baek So-cheon caught him immediately, attempting to push his three years of newly acquired strength to stem the decline, yet the elder weakly waved him off, stating it was already too late.

While the youth had been immersed in meditation, Ban Yun-saeng had swallowed a fatal concoction, allowing the slow-acting poison to take hold just long enough to express his final farewells and seek understanding. He possessed no lingering regrets, and his choice did not merely stem from the experiment’s imperfection or the impossibility of repeating the grand rite.

He confessed that his selfish pursuit had cost countless people their lives, and the time had arrived to atone before them. Though those subjects had offered themselves willingly in pursuit of divine transformation, overwhelming guilt burdened his heart. Addressing him reverently as elder, Baek So-cheon mourned, assuring him that his version of Hwan-gol Tal-tae had indeed succeeded and thanking him profoundly.

A bright smile touched the elder’s face. He offered his gratitude, voicing a final wish that Baek So-cheon might one day realize the ultimate, genuine Hwan-gol Tal-tae so that no remorse remained, before finally drifting into eternal rest.

Baek So-cheon laid him to rest beneath the warmth of the sun on a rise overlooking the distant Eternal Life Poison-Net Herb, lingering there for three days in reflection before taking his leave.

Instead of traveling straight back to the central base, he made his way to a tavern situated within the lively markets of Lanzhou in Gansu to seek an audience with an acquaintance. Stepping inside, he called for their finest vintage alongside their prime culinary specialty.

The attendant promised prompt service, prompting Baek So-cheon to demand the presence of the actual proprietor. When the worker insisted he held that role, Baek So-cheon clarified that he meant the true master of the establishment. The attendant’s demeanor turned rigid as Baek So-cheon pressed a letter forward, instructing him to pass the missive directly to his superior and warning that letting its contents leak would cost him his life.

This establishment was none other than the Gu-ryong Inn. A network of them existed throughout the Central Plains, mirroring the outpost in Jeol-gang Province where he had dispatched Beon Saeng earlier. Baek So-cheon had arrived to secure an audience with Cheon-geuk, knowing that every branch of the Gu-ryong Inn secretly answered to the Sal-su Yeon-maeng—a reality very few were privy to.

Three days following the message, Cheon-geuk arrived in person, commenting on his remarkable knack for catching people off guard. When he playfully admitted he had missed her, she dismissed the humor, leading him to state plainly that he required her assistance.

Cheon-geuk privately marveled at the unpredictable nature of their world, having never expected to encounter Baek So-cheon again so rapidly, which underscored just how turbulent the martial realm had become. She prompted him to explain his need.

He asked that they speak entirely in private, signaling for her to dismiss her quartet of protectors. Even before she could speak, a sharp, suffocating pressure washed through the chamber—the blunt, vehement refusal of the guardians.

She pointed out that granting his wish was tantamount to accepting her own execution, but he brushed it aside as hyperbole, noting her martial prowess far exceeded his own. When she reminded him of the symbolic risk, he repeated his plea with absolute gravity, the repeated appeal underscoring the vital stakes.

Dong-seong’s mental voice cut through the silence, warning her against dismissing them despite knowing the Alliance Lord’s trust in the man. Cheon-geuk firmly pushed back, urging her subordinate to concede this single occasion. When he protested, she reminded him of the looming warfare and the unpredictable role their guest would play, emphasizing that making an alliance with him now was crucial and urging him to place faith in her leadership as the young Assassin Queen.

Faced with her resolute stance, Dong-seong conceded, and with a brief acknowledgment of gratitude from her, the four hidden presences vanished from the room.

Turning back to him, Cheon-geuk stated that with her guards departed, he was free to take her life. Baek So-cheon matched her jest, inquiring if the lack of witnesses meant they were moving toward romantic business, to which she dryly asked if he meant to bed her.

He brought the focus back to business, reaching into his pouch and drawing out something startling: official credit drafts spanning the three great battlefields. Laying them out, he revealed a staggering one million four hundred thousand nyang—the entirety of his gathered resources, holding back only what was strictly necessary for urgent emergencies, offering up his complete wealth.