Chapter 159. The Four Directions Hall Lord

A breath escaped his lips, the faint vapor blurring his vision.

The martial artist from the Four Directions Hall cautiously surveyed the snowy mountains.

The sky, pale and hazy white, and the thick snow that blanketed everything—wherever he looked, the world was nothing but whiteness.

Now he understood why they always warned travelers heading to the North Sea to guard against falling into madness.

What at first seemed beautiful was slowly turning terrifying.

Not the slightest trace of life could be felt; it was as though even time itself had ceased to flow.

The martial artist tightened his grip on the reins and gave his companion a glance—a signal to check the gorge ahead. His comrade understood and turned his horse.

Crunch.

With every step the horse took, sharp pain spread through his frozen thighs.

The comrade, who reached the gorge first, frowned.

“Brother, look over there.”

The ground he pointed at had sunken in. Finding it strange, the two martial artists approached and brushed away the snow with their scabbards. A smooth stone surface was revealed.

It was broad and gentle, a sloping path wide enough for carriages.

“It seems the city where the merchant convoys stop is up there.”

At his words, the comrade tilted his head.

“But judging by how solidly the snow is packed, no one has passed here in quite some time.”

The two exchanged a glance, then led their horses up the incline.

When they finally crested the sunken path, the martial artists of the Four Directions Hall froze in place.

Spread across the snowy plain was a cemetery of white mounds. Not real graves—just one-story buildings buried beneath snow.

Yet even the sight alone sent a chill into their bones.

With a voice heavy with sorrow, the comrade spoke.

“This must be the border city our Hall Lord has been searching for…”

Without replying, the martial artist strode to the nearest snow-covered mound and thrust his hand deep into it.

Rustle.

He dug through the snow. But the building had been left unattended for so long that it took a long while before any of it was exposed.

“Let’s do it together.”

In the end, his comrade dismounted to help.

After digging for what felt like more than thirty feet, a door finally emerged. Working faster, they cleared just enough snow to pull it open and grasped the handle.

Creak—

The old hinges shrieked and let out a chilling sound. One of them pulled a fire striker from his robes and lit a lamp hanging by the door.

Light spread through the darkness.

The place looked to have been a tavern. Frozen wine jars remained, and dried meat still hung in the kitchen.

But there was no sign of people. Only wide, dark stains of blood marred the floor.

The two men stepped back outside without a word. Almost at once, they began to dig out another mound.

They uncovered two more buildings, but the scenes within were much the same.

The cold had preserved the interiors, keeping them from rotting. Yet there were no traces of people fleeing.

It wasn’t a gradual decline. It was as if someone had attacked and butchered the village in a single night. Later, someone must have come to collect the corpses.

The martial artist of the Four Directions Hall let out a long, heavy sigh.

“As you said, this must be the city the Hall Lord spoke of… but what a sight.”

It was truly a troubling discovery.

Though the ties between the North Sea Ice Palace and the Murim Alliance had been severed decades ago, he had never believed that all contact between the North Sea and the Central Plains was gone.

Where there is demand, there will always be supply.

Even if the imperial court banned it, there were smugglers who risked their lives to transport goods by sea. How could merchants possibly abandon the land route of the North Sea—a route free of imperial soldiers and pirates alike?

Besides, rare items such as the Extreme Ice Grass or Ice Crystals sometimes turned up in Central Plains markets. That was proof enough that trade with the North Sea continued.

Yet looking upon this scene, he could not help but wonder: had all exchange between the Central Plains and the North Sea truly been cut off?

This city lay on the road leading directly to the southernmost harbor of the North Sea. Long ago, before the Alliance severed relations, its martial artists had often passed through here.

But the state of things seemed far different from what they had imagined.

The martial artist of the Four Directions Hall let out a bitter sigh.

“For now, let’s return and report to the Hall Lord.”

“Yes, let’s hurry.”

His companion leapt onto his horse, eager to leave this place at once. The martial artist of the Four Directions Hall took one last look at the fallen city, then mounted his steed with a heart full of regret.

***

In the middle of the snowy plain, the martial artists of the Four Directions Hall had lit a fire.

The worst of times.

They scooped snow into an iron pot, set it above the flames, and waited for it to boil.

The one advantage of the North Sea was that drinking water was easy to come by.

As soon as the water began to bubble, a martial artist tossed in tea leaves. They warmed their bodies with the hot brew, thumping their stiffened thighs to chase away the ache.

Watching her subordinates rest, the Four Directions Hall Lord strolled off toward the snowy mountains as if taking a casual walk.

It was her first time in the North Sea as well.

“… Uncannily peaceful.”

Spotless. Silent.

Just as she’d been told, the snowbound scenery of the North Sea was like a divine masterpiece, wrought with painstaking serenity.

But as old memories surfaced, Peng Sihyeon’s eyes grew somber. At that moment, a voice called out.

“Hall Lord, have some tea.”

She accepted the cup. Her subordinate, glancing around, then spoke.

“But, my Lord…”

Sihyeon turned her gaze to him. It was the Black Tortoise Pavilion Leader, lowering his voice.

“It is too quiet here.”

“Is it?”

She had thought the same herself, yet Sihyeon feigned ignorance. The Black Tortoise Pavilion Leader pressed on with a grave expression.

“This is the border between the Central Plains and the North Sea, is it not? Normally, such a frontier would be garrisoned. But there are no outposts and not a single soul—unsettling, isn’t it?”

Sihyeon only smiled faintly as she sipped her tea.

The once-piping-hot brew had already turned cold.

The Black Tortoise Pavilion Leader was just about to give full voice to his unease when the sound of hooves drifted in from afar. The martial artists who had gone out to reconnoiter were returning.

Sihyeon’s gaze naturally shifted toward them. But the look on their faces was not good.

She waited until they dismounted.

The two subordinates stepped forward, bowed, and she spoke first.

“Judging by your faces, you must have found something.”

“Yes, Hall Lord. We found the city you mentioned.”

Sihyeon’s expression hardened.

Though they had achieved their goal, her subordinates’ faces were pale, as though they had seen a ghost.

“But… there were no people. We cannot tell exactly how long it has been, but it seems the city was annihilated long ago.”

Sihyeon’s voice dropped low.

“Do you remember the way?”

“Yes. There is a sloping path by the gorge that leads directly to it.”

She handed back the cup to the subordinate who had brought the tea and gave her order.

“Let us depart.”

“But, my Lord—didn’t they just say the city was annihilated? Might it not be dangerous?”

“Anywhere will be less dangerous than here.”

“… Pardon?”

Her gaze turned toward the snow-covered mountain forest.

The trees blanketed in white looked like a tangled net of threads. Nothing could be seen beyond.

Yet Sihyeon kept her eyes on the mountains and let a faint smile tug at her lips.

Her subordinates glanced uneasily between the mountain and the Hall Lord.

They could not understand her words, but she was the Four Directions Hall Lord. They had no choice but to obey.

The Black Tortoise Pavilion Leader urged the resting martial artists to pack up quickly, then mounted his horse.

***

Arrowheads jutted from the trees like clusters of fruit.

The land was blanketed in snow, distances blurred, yet the archers seemed well-accustomed to this terrain and gauged range with practiced ease.

Dozens of arrows were leveled at the group resting on the snowy plain.

They were merchants from the Central Plains. Judging by the thick, padded quality of their fine clothing, their purses were comfortably full.

The bowman tilted his head slightly, carefully selecting his target.

The moment he fixed his aim on the woman walking fearlessly across the snowfield, his bow slowly lowered.

One of his younger subordinates looked up in puzzlement.

“… Lord, why have you stopped?”

But the great leader said nothing. He didn’t even spare his young follower a glance.

The subordinate scanned the snowy plain again.

“… What is this? Not merchants?”

On closer inspection, they did not look like merchants after all. Their bearing was closer to armed escorts than traders.

Whatever the case, the wagons they led seemed laden with food supplies.

And in this ravine, where not only medicines but even food were scarce and men grew desperate, it mattered little whether they were merchants or escorts.

What’s more, as if to taunt them, the woman who appeared to be their leader calmly sipped the tea handed to her by a subordinate, at ease, completely relaxed.

The young archer darted an urgent look upward, pressing again.

“Lord, they’ve let down their guard—now’s our chance…”

A laugh tickled his ears.

“They haven’t lowered their guard. They’ve set a snare—to see from which direction we’re watching.”

At that moment, Peng Sihyeon halted in the middle of the snowy plain.

Like a blot of ink dropped on white paper, her figure stood out vividly in the bowman’s sight.

Even a mediocre archer could have struck her.

It was, as the subordinate had said, the perfect opportunity.

But the great leader knew this woman’s temperament all too well. Peng Sihyeon was the type who, when pursued, would not flee. She would rather make herself the target, drawing out her hunters with a combative grin.

Her massive saber rested diagonally across her body, its hilt almost brushing her right hand—ready to be drawn in an instant.

“At this distance, she could swat down every arrow before they touched her.”

And then, she would charge straight toward them and cut them all down.

The great leader touched the long scar running down his cheek and swallowed hard. That scar still burned, a reminder of the day he had mocked Peng Sihyeon’s reckless nature and paid for it.

He offered no explanation to his men.

The archers, lowering their bows in hesitation, exchanged glances before one finally summoned the courage to ask.

“But, lord—why do you think they’ve laid a snare?”

There was curiosity in his eyes.

Not curiosity about the enemy, but about their own leader.

The great leader had spent many years in the Central Plains. He had even discovered a way to recover the relics stolen by the Murim Alliance and purge the Blood Demon’s taint.

The subordinate swallowed dryly, wondering if he had spoken out of turn. Perhaps those travelers were the Lord’s friends—or even benefactors.

The archer who had first targeted Peng Sihyeon ventured cautiously.

“… Do you know her, my Lord?”

The leader nodded.

“She is the Four Directions Hall Lord of the Murim Alliance.”

At those words, the subordinate flinched.

But the leader paid little mind to their reaction. He only let out a shallow sigh.

“For the Four Directions Hall Lord to move in person… something serious must have happened within the Alliance.”

At the mention of her title, one of the waiting archers quietly began packing up. He, too, had once worked in the Central Plains, as part of the Profound Emptiness Pavilion.

Most of the young martial artists here had been rescued from the Blood Demon’s farms and had never set foot in the Central Plains. But they were not blind.

If such a figure was sent, and their Lord himself permitted her passage, then these Central Plains men could not be counted among the enemies of the North Sea.

It was a pity about the wagons full of supplies—but if the Lord himself had relinquished them, there was nothing to be done.

The Bloodlines of the North Sea Ice Palace, watching, held back.

The Central Plains travelers swiftly packed up, mounted their horses, and moved on.

The Bloodlines kept their distance, shadowing them along the mountain path.

But instead of passing through the gorge, the Central Plains party turned up the slope at its entrance. The North Sea martial artists soon realized their destination—Wuyong Road, once a prosperous city, now reduced to ruins.

For a fleeting instant, an emotion stirred in the great leader’s eyes.

Then, as if cutting off the thought, he turned his body away.

“Leave them. They’re not here to settle. There are no ships on the coast to carry them to the islands. They’ll return to the Central Plains soon enough.”

The path they sought led to nothing.

Whatever they hoped to find, they would learn soon that there was nothing there. And whoever had come could not afford to linger long away from the Central Plains.

The martial artists of the North Sea Ice Palace withdrew back into their own domain, leaving the Murim Alliance party to their journey.

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