Chapter 33 – I Must Do It to Survive
Young Saweol was chasing a butterfly.
The white butterfly fluttered just out of her reach, close enough to touch but never caught.
“Gotcha!”
Saweol stretched her hand farther. In that mont, her foot caught on a rock, and she fell.
“Oww…”
Her knee was scraped and swelling red.
“Hnn…”
The young Saweol was on the verge of tears. Her large eyes welled up, ready to spill.
“There you are.”
Just then—
A voice reached her ears. Saweol turned her head.
Standing there was a man with a gentle expression. A smile imdiately lit up her face.
“Big Brother!”
“You’re hurt, huh? Let see.”
The man strode over, knelt down, and examined her knee. Putting on a stern face, he spoke.
“If we leave it like this, it'll scar. What should we do?”
“Hnn…”
“I’ll let it go just this once. But from now on, you must tell where you’re going, okay?”
“Yes, Big Brother.”
The man patted Saweol’s head, then opened his palm. A white fla ignited with a soft fwsh. It was clearly fire, yet it didn’t feel hot—rather, it was warm and comforting.
It was the Sacred Fire, the symbol of the Demonic Cult.
“Wow… So pretty…”
“When you grow up, Little Saweol, you’ll be able to handle this too. You're more talented than your brother, so you’ll probably wield an even greater Sacred Fla.”
He called her Little Saweol. As he brought the fla to her wounded knee, the injury miraculously healed without a trace.
“Hehe, Big Brother is the best!”
“You little rascal.”
The man stood up.
Then he reached out his hand.
“Let’s go ho.”
His voice was warm like a spring day’s sunlight, soft like silk.
“Yes!”
Little Saweol grabbed that hand.
And in that mont—
“You’re awake.”
Her vision shifted.
Standing before her now was not the brother she missed so dearly.
It was a face with stubborn lips and harshly beautiful lines.
The hateful bloodline of the Sado Clan.
Sado Hwan stood there.
And in his shoulder was her dagger, embedded deep.
Saweol flinched and looked into his eyes. There was no trace of anger. No hesitation. The real Sado Hwan would have scread sothing like “You lowly wench!” and gone berserk. But instead—
“Why… Why…?”
Why did his eyes hold the sa warmth as her brother’s?
Saweol stamred.
“What… what is this…?”
“I know you want to kill . But…”
Sado Hwan spoke, a lancholic smile on his face.
“Just this once, take my hand.”
He then pulled the dagger from his shoulder and handed it to her. Saweol took it numbly.
“You… know I want to kill you?”
How? She thought she’d hidden it with all her might.
“We still have to go ho, don’t we?”
Saweol bit her lip hard.
She felt disgusting.
As if her precious mories of her brother had been stained by Sado Hwan.
So then why—
Why did that expression, those words, make her want to cry?
Get a grip. He’s just the target of your revenge.
Saweol hardened her face. Colder. Even colder. So her thoughts wouldn’t show. So her emotions wouldn’t betray her.
She grabbed Sado Hwan’s hand. It was calloused. She tried not to rember how it felt.
“Let’s go, Saweol.”
Pop!
Her thoughts couldn’t keep up. She reappeared after moving at a speed that defied comprehension.
A spatial step…?
Sado Hwan, who refused to use even basic movent techniques and always insisted on horses or carriages, using a spatial step?
And not just that. He executed one of the highest-level movent techniques, carrying another person along.
Pop!
He did it again.
Sado Hwan and Saweol moved as one.
How much power have you been hiding, Sado Hwan…?
In the Demonic Cult, strength is virtue. Why would he hide it?
My revenge… for now, that man first.
They reappeared above Jo Yang’s head.
“Lower flank.”
Saweol’s dagger traced a flash of light.
“Kuhugh—!”
Jo Yang coughed up blood.
The dagger was buried in his abdon. She had aid for the heart, but Jo Yang had twisted sothing to distort the trajectory. Still, whether instant or not, death was certain.
“Kiiieeeek!”
As Jo Yang was struck, his sorcery seed to break. The Witch of the Small Marsh clutched her head and rolled on the floor.
I approached Jo Yang. His face was deathly pale from blood loss.
“Saweol, seal his pressure points. I have questions for him.”
At my words, Saweol pressed his ridians. The gushing blood stopped.
The wound in my right shoulder throbbed. I didn’t try to ignore the pain—I accepted it.
Because I had to believe that right now, I was a martial artist.
“Jo Yang.”
“You…”
Jo Yang snarled in rage.
“You ruined everything! I was about to bring So-hyang back, and you—!”
“How many did you kill?”
“Hehehe… What’s a few bugs in such a vast world like the Martial Realm?”
“I see. What happened to the others?”
“They’re probably still wandering the ruins. If they’re unlucky, they might already be dead.”
Yun Yeopja and Tang Siyuk wouldn’t go down so easily.
I stepped closer to him.
“Cheongi-ja. Do you know anything about him?”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
I had been an ordinary person in the modern world. I’d fought a few schoolyard fights, sure—but I’d never deliberately hard anyone.
But I had to survive. And to survive, I had to do what was necessary.
In this world, you can’t last without getting blood on your hands.
So I acted.
I abandoned Kim Dong-yun—and played the role of a cold-blooded psychopath.
Of all the characters I knew from this world, the most brutal was the Sword Saint, Maeng Wihak.
I was Maeng Wihak. I was Maeng Wihak.
I repeated it over and over.
“Those eyes…”
Jo Yang recoiled in shock as our eyes t. But I said nothing.
I reached for the dagger buried in his abdon.
And then—
Twist.
I twisted the blade.
Jo Yang couldn’t even scream properly from the pain.
I spoke calmly.
“Tell about Cheongi-ja.”
“Hehehe…”
Jo Yang sneered.
“You ruined everything, and you think I’ll tell you what I want? I’m going to die anyway.”
He clearly knew he wouldn’t live long.
“If you talk—”
I raised my hand and pointed at the Witch still writhing on the floor.
“I’ll let you go peacefully. With her.”
“If you don’t… she’ll rot in a cell, mad and broken, for eternity. Never to be revived again.”
“You bastard…”
“Now tell everything you know about Cheongi-ja.”
Jo Yang clenched his teeth.
Then he spoke.
“I don’t know much. We only crossed paths once.”
“Speak.”
“Cheongi-ja said this world is twisted. That soone warped the flow of fate and derailed the story that should’ve happened. He said it must be corrected.”
Soone warped the Heavenly Flow.
Was he talking about ?
But what stuck out even more was his ntion of “the story that should’ve happened.”
As if…
As if Cheongi-ja knows this world is a novel.
Even if his character is supposed to “know everything,” that level of awareness was chilling.
In the end, I’d have to et Cheongi-ja myself to be sure.
“When did you et him?”
“…Ten years ago…”
“Ten years ago?”
That ant Cheongi-ja had foreseen this situation ten years in advance?
Impossible. The novel itself hadn’t even existed for ten years in my world.
“Where? Where did you et him?”
“M-Mounta…”
“Mountain? What mountain?”
Jo Yang’s words grew sluggish. Even though Saweol had sealed his points, he’d lost too much blood.
His gaze drifted toward the Witch of the Small Marsh.
“I just… wanted to see her smile again…”
His head slumped.
[He’s dead.]
“I know.”
I retrieved the Puppet Flute from his body.
Then I approached the Witch. She was still clutching her head, unaware Jo Yang had died.
Her reason was gone.
‘Skybreaker. Don’t absorb the energy.’
[Understood.]
I raised Skybreaker Sword.
Then I thrust it into the Witch’s heart.
There was a slight resistance in my hand.
“Thank you.”
The voice wasn’t the Witch’s—but Baek So-hyang’s.
There was no way to save her now. She had been completely devoured by the jade. Her body crumbled like ash.
In her place, only the white jade remained, radiating ominous energy.
I picked it up. A chill like piercing frost bit at my fingertips.
I had once been an ordinary office worker.
Now, I had killed a person.
But I couldn’t wallow in it. I had killed to survive.
To cry or regret was cheap hypocrisy.
So I would keep acting.
Stumble.
I felt dizzy. My vision warped.
Soone grabbed my arm.
“Your bleeding is severe.”
I turned my head. Saweol stood there.
Expressionless. Cold. But no longer hostile.
She wasn’t trying to kill .
Of course, with Skybreaker Sword in , she couldn’t risk it recklessly.
“Your arm.”
I held out my right arm. She rolled up the sleeve, revealing the wound where the dagger had struck.
Pop—
Her fingers brushed my shoulder. The bleeding stopped.
Saweol smoothly pulled out salve and bandages from her pouch and began treating the wound.
Honestly, the pain was so bad I nearly passed out. But if I showed that, my earlier act as a master would lose all credibility.
So I gritted my teeth and endured.
Saweol spoke without eting my eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry.”
With the power of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, I’d recover in a few days.
I turned my head and saw a flat ledge. I sat down.
Sothing cold at my side made instinctively touch it—and I rembered.
The jade.
The one the Witch had swallowed. Brimming with icy energy. I didn’t know its proper na, so I decided to call it the Small Marsh Jade.
Skybreaker scolded .
[Why carry a cursed thing you can’t even use? Weaklings don’t have ti for guilt.]
‘It’s not guilt.’
In wuxia, protagonists who mope over killing lose their readers. Since I’m in Return of the Murim, I’ll act like a true protagonist—shake it off.
But there was another reason I took the jade.
Not to use it.
I couldn’t wield inner energy anyway.
The Heavenly Demon.
This jade would beco the key—
To bringing the Heavenly Demon to my side.
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