Book 12 Chapter 1

The Flame of Jealousy

"Ryu Yeo-eon!"

Baek Mu-yeong, known as Ji-ryong and one of the twin stars of the Gu-jeong Council, and the top prospect of the Hyungsan sect, clearly heard Na Ye-rin's desperate cry.

Her voice was clear and pure, a beautiful melody like crystalline raindrops falling on a silver mirror. It was as deep as a bottomless lake and as soft as sable fur, possessing a magical allure that captivated the listener. But now, her voice was filled with urgency, surprise, fear, and anxiety.

In the past, that voice was as cold as the biting wind and snow from the northern frozen lands. There had never been a trace of emotion carried on that chilling breeze. How could such a voice, once like that, now tremble so precariously, melting like a stream touched by the first sunlight of early spring! Had that cold voice ever resonated so loudly, filled with such a spectrum of emotions?

Recalling his memories, he found no such instance. It was likely not even recorded in the meticulous "Records of Close and Focused Surveillance of a Beautiful Woman" by the Ae-so-jeo Council (in the West, across the Silk Road, they apparently call this a 'stalking record' and the professional who carries it out a 'stalker').

Moreover, even he, who privately prided himself on having courted numerous women, could not dispute that this was a clear, beautiful, mysterious, and enchanting voice he had never heard before.

Just then, Baek Mu-yeong noticed the strange appearance of his friend, Wi Ji-cheon. (Though their relationship was strained, they hadn't officially broken off their friendship yet.)

He was hunched over, staring blankly at his own two hands. He resembled a suicide victim, despairing of life and giving up on existence. In this perilous moment, with hundreds of arrows falling like a torrential downpour and rotating blades descending ferociously along chains, remaining in such a dazed state was an act of madness, tantamount to forfeiting the right to live.

Baek Mu-yeong found his old, close friend's behavior peculiar, but the life-threatening dangers and relentless attacks swarming from all directions left him no time to concern himself further. Even at that very moment, dozens of arrows were aiming for his life. If he were to die from a mere sharpened stick, he would have no face to meet the ancestors of his sect.

Unable to commit a grave sin against his sect, he turned his gaze back and began to resolutely deal with the attacks threatening him. His sword cut through the wind, scattering a cold sword energy.

"Hehehe…"

Wi Ji-cheon let out successive, eerie laughter, staring at his empty hands with bloodshot eyes. They were clearly clean, empty hands, but due to his bloodshot eyes, they appeared stained with blood. Though they were his hands, extensions of the arms attached to his body, they now felt as distant as the bottom of a thousand-zhang abyss.

When had she ever cried out with such urgency, such haste, losing control of herself? She, with whom even ordinary conversation was difficult.

Wi Ji-cheon felt his eyes darkening, blinded by the burning flames of jealousy.

"Kukukuk! Kukukuk!"

His current state, having relinquished the reins of reason and surrendered his mind and body to the torrent of emotions, was no different from that of a madman. Reason, seeking what is right, simply did not exist for him now. He was in a state of complete unguardedness.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

The sightless arrows, failing to hit any discernible target, grazed past him and plunged fiercely into the ground. Yet, he remained unmoved. Was he intending to die like this?

Towards his heel, a snake slithered stealthily, its fangs bared. It was not a native of this gorge but an outsider, having lived elsewhere and fed on different prey.

The venom it carried was more than ten times that of a common viper. Moreover, that venom was like an evil sword wielded by some command. For this snake that had escaped its group, any target would have sufficed. It chose this dazed man simply because he was close, and his listless posture suggested he would be easily subdued with little resistance. Indeed, it was a wise judgment.

The black-scaled viper lunged forward with fierce momentum, its white fangs gleaming. No, "flew" would be a more accurate description.

Swoosh!

In an instant, with a flash of sword light, the viper's head and torso were cleaved in two, drawing a thin line of blood, just inches from Wi Ji-cheon's foot. Dark red blood seeped from the severed ends of the viper, dotting Wi Ji-cheon's clothes with crimson stains.

The one who had wielded his sword and saved him at the moment of crisis was Cheong-heun, the Three-Blade Sword. Once, along with Baek Mu-yeong, they had been called the Three Friends of the Celestial Dragon. That name had not faded, but their friendship had grown so distant that only the faint remnants of the past remained, accompanied by a sense of loneliness.

"Hehehe, kukukuk! Kikikik!"

Despite having his life saved, Wi Ji-cheon did not offer words of gratitude. Instead, he continuously let out eerie laughter mixed with self-contempt and mockery, like a man driven mad.

As if surrounded by dense darkness, he could no longer see even his old friend.

'Could he have gone mad from the tension?'

Cheong-heun frowned slightly. He was well aware that such mental breakdowns sometimes occurred in novices participating in their first battle. Their extremely heightened nerves were torn apart by the violent shock of blood, pain, and death.

However, Cheong-heun soon denied his own conjecture. To his knowledge, Wi Ji-cheon was not someone with such a weak mind. After pondering for a moment, Cheong-heun realized that Wi Ji-cheon's eerie laughter had stopped.

The moment Wi Ji-cheon quietly lifted his head and their eyes met, Cheong-heun's heart felt as if it had dropped. His pupils were filled with a void and despair, like the eyes of the dead, where not a shadow of hope could be found.

"Kekekek. You did a pointless thing, friend. You should have just let me die… That would have been much, much better… Then I wouldn't have had to feel this pain, as if thousands of nails were being driven into my heart… Now I can't just die as I please, can I? Because I don't want to die anymore! Instead…"

In a chillingly cold and cynical voice, as if he had given up on everything, Wi Ji-cheon muttered, gazing at his own two hands once more. In that moment, his red-looking hands became unbearably irritating. And he thought he wanted his red-looking hands to be stained with the blood of that damned brat, Bi Ryu-yeon.

An unbearable thirst parched his mouth. He felt as if only the fresh blood flowing from the chest of that damned brat, ripped from his heart, could quench this burning thirst. If he could quench this thirst, he felt he would not hesitate to sell his soul to the devil.

Uncontrollable jealousy and guilt collided, swirling violently within his mind. In this fierce vortex, guilt was eventually shattered into dust without a trace, and unbearable hatred filled its void.

An uncontrollable whirlwind of madness engulfed his mind and body. It tore apart his weakened mind and reason. Yet, no one noticed this transformation in him. Not Baek Mu-yeong, who was struggling from afar amidst the pouring arrows, nor even Cheong-heun, who had been watching him right beside him, noticed that his heart was slowly being consumed by darkness.

In Wi Ji-cheon's heart, a thin thread that had been precariously maintained until then snapped with a 'snap'.