The Shadow Of The Cult (3)

Neung Je-gang strode, imposing as ever, toward the Left Vice Minister’s study where the corpse lay. But he soon stood there dazed, as if struck on the back of the head.

The crime scene had been scrubbed spotless by maids—there wasn’t a single trace of blood. It was so immaculate one might doubt the body had ever been found there. Even the books that should have been bloodied had all vanished and been replaced with clean new volumes.

“Is this truly where the body was found?”

Neung Je-gang posed the question to the bereaved, who glared from the side as if to monitor his every move.

But why was that? Every gaze among the bereaved fixed on a single point.

There stood the Left Vice Minister’s daughter.

“Yes. Here.”

“Is that so? Then why did you hurry to clean it like this?”

“It is the place Father loved most. I could not leave it stained with blood.”

She spoke in a tone befitting a devoted daughter, but to Neung Je-gang it was enough to make him want to tear his hair out.

“Let’s go see the body.”

If he wasted any more time, they might even have finished the laying-out rites. So he moved quickly.

And of course? At some point two embalmers had been brought in; they had already washed the body and were working to close the wounds.

“Stop!”

Shoving the embalmers aside, Neung Je-gang examined the corpse’s wounds.

Unfortunately, it was already past the point where the exterior revealed much. Less than one double-hour since the report, and yet the study had been erased without a trace and the laying-out nearly finished—utterly unacceptable.

Neung Je-gang shot a sharp look at the Left Vice Minister’s daughter, who had come in behind him.

“Unless you give a clear explanation for today’s conduct, I’ll have no choice but to report you, Lady Gyeong, as the killer of His Excellency.”

“W-what? Wh-what are you…!”

“As I see it, you did everything you could to prevent the culprit from being uncovered. For what reason?”

“What are you saying? Are you claiming I know who killed my father?”

Shff—

Neung Je-gang did not answer. Instead, as if by sleight of hand, a small dagger—the very kind he used examining the Grand Academician—appeared in his hand.

Sssk—

The blade went unhesitatingly to the slashed areas of the corpse.

“Aaaah! Wh-what are you doing?”

“What you were doing. By cleaning the murder scene and concealing evidence on the body, you made yourself the prime suspect in His Excellency’s killing, Lady Gyeong.”

With the dagger he scraped away what had been used to close the cuts. The gashes opened a little more, but to a master’s eye the changes were enough.

“That’s strange.”

“What is?”

Cheong Yeon asked, stepping up beside him.

At his voice, Neung Je-gang turned his head toward the daughter.

Now she trembled under Gwak Ung’s stare, looking a fragile girl—nothing like the defiant figure who had faced down the Police Office officials.

“These are not wounds dealt by a martial technique.”

“Sir?”

“They’re random stab wounds. Even if the attacker knew martial arts, they weren’t even third-rate.”

“That can’t be, can it? Lord Gyeong Cheol, the Left Vice Minister of War, was known as a formidable master.”

“Right. I never saw him fight, but rumor had it he was the top inner-court expert.”

“Hard to believe such a man died at the hands of someone who barely knew martial arts.”

“There are roughly three possibilities.”

“There are three?”

“First: he was killed by someone very close… and that ‘close one’ might be family or not. Second: he was drugged—lost consciousness or strength due to poison.”

“I see. And the last?”

“Drugged, then finished off by someone close. In any case, judging from the wounds, this was not the work of an assassin or martial expert, contrary to our expectations.”

Neung Je-gang brought the blood on his dagger to his nose, then lightly touched it to his tongue.

A stinging taste. He had done this more than a few times, but tasting a dead man’s blood was always revolting.

Still, one could learn a great deal from it.

“Sepsis Powder! This feels like the 7-pace or 5-pace grade, the so-called Soul-Calling Powder.”

For Sepsis Powder, potency was measured by the number of paces—100, 10, 7, 5, etc.; the smaller the number, the stronger. Though named for “clotting blood,” it was often paired with the chilling name “Soul-Calling Powder” because one never survived it.

The problem with poisons like Sepsis Powder was that they had no effect unless ingested. High-level poison masters disdained using them as too troublesome.

Indeed, when so many poisons could kill just by being scattered, few experts favored one that failed unless swallowed.

In any case, the culprit had knocked the victim out with Sepsis Powder, then carved the soon-to-be corpse for good measure.

“Now it’s your turn to answer, young lady. I believe you are the only one here who could have administered poison…?”

Neung Je-gang turned toward the daughter. The people most able to poison without suspicion were family.

“Heh… haah… You’re remarkable. I never imagined anyone would identify the poison by tasting blood.”

The daughter let out a hollow laugh—shocked that what she had labored to hide was laid bare in an instant.

“Yes, I poisoned him. I laced the tea he habitually drank with plenty of Sepsis Powder. A friend I met not long ago procured it for me, but I won’t give you her name.”

Neung Je-gang nodded calmly.

Thus far, it matched his expectations. The daughter’s attempt to hide things had been clumsy. Cleaning the study and rushing the laying-out were blatant; she herself had created a situation that anyone would suspect as deliberate.

Why she had to kill her father, he could not yet know. But calling him “that man,” not “Father,” made clear there was something deep and ugly beneath.

“Heh-heh! But even you, impressive as you are, failed to discover one thing, didn’t you?”

“There’s something I missed?”

“That man isn’t my father. Heh-heh-heh! He’s a fake. I don’t know since when, but he was imitating Father. Father must have met with misfortune long ago. So I—so I…”

She plainly meant to say it had been revenge. If he wasn’t truly the Left Vice Minister, then it wasn’t her crime. Revenge is not a crime.

“You’re saying this face isn’t His Excellency’s?”

“The face is the same. But my friend said martial artists can alter their faces with inner power, or with something called a human-skin mask.”

Neung Je-gang inspected the face and nape closely. However superb the mask, the nape leaves traces.

But no matter how he looked, there was no mask.

“This body isn’t wearing a mask.”

“Th-then he must have changed his face with inner power.”

“Now, now. You likely say that because you don’t know. There are techniques that alter appearance with inner power, but on death one returns to one’s true face. In my judgment, there’s no basis to claim this isn’t His Excellency.”

“Wh-what? No. It can’t be. If he were real, why would he—why would he… No. Impossible. Absolutely not.”

She mumbled, incoherent, as if out of her mind.

From her words and behavior, it was clear the fake “father” had violated her.

“Lady Gyeong.”

“…”

“Can you tell me who gave you the Sepsis Powder?”

“No. She did nothing but help me. I will never reveal her.”

At the mention of the friend who procured the poison, her voice suddenly grew clear—then her lips pressed shut with absolute resolve.

It was as if the shock that she might have killed her real father had already vanished.

“Spirit-Command Mind-Seal Technique!”

For reasons of his own, Neung Je-gang barked the words, then pressed points along her governing vessel and, with his fingertips, searched the muddled pathways of her head.

“Sir?”

Startled by the outcry, Cheong Yeon asked, bewildered.

“Found it. Damn—snared good.”

Neung Je-gang’s face looked as if he’d been struck.

“Lady Gyeong is under a prohibition by a technique called the Spirit-Command Mind-Seal.”

“Such a technique exists?”

“I thought it vanished… It was a secret art used by a defunct cult called the Necromancer Cult. If struck by it, one will die before speaking about the person imprinted onto the mind. That’s why, back then, even when all the other Necromancer cultists were captured and killed, they never betrayed their leader’s identity and he was never caught—an infernal art. It seems the Necromancer Cult’s demon has returned.”

“That can’t be… Then what do we do? Must we close this case with Lady Gyeong as the killer after all?”

Deceived into killing her own father—Beijing’s gentry would be shocked to the core.

“Damn it. No choice. You and that bear go and question everyone in this manor about the girl who calls herself Lady Gyeong’s friend. It seems she planted hallucinations and had Lady Gyeong kill the Vice Minister with her own hands. Some servant or maid may know something. And if anyone shows the same absolute refusal to answer as Lady Gyeong, seize them by the pulse gates and arrest them.”

“Understood.”

Cheong Yeon hauled off the dazed Gwak Ung, who had merely watched events unfold.

Neung Je-gang sighed heavily as he looked at the daughter.

The situation was worse than expected. If the Necromancer Cult truly had returned to the world, countless powerless commoners would die as before—just like when all the righteous and demonic sects together failed to unmask the cult leader.

What made the Spirit-Command Mind-Seal’s harm so great was that its targets were ordinary folk who knew no martial arts. And then those ordinary people’s families were killed one by one by the afflicted.

Among the victims were martial masters and renowned scholars. Trusting those who were family, they let down their guard—and died.

Before long, Cheong Yeon and Gwak Ung returned.

“Three put up fierce resistance—two of Lady Gyeong’s maids and one bodyguard.”

“A bodyguard? Damn—quickly.”

At the word “bodyguard,” Neung Je-gang sprang up and bolted.

But in that time the bodyguard had already vanished somewhere; only the two maids remained—headless corpses.

“W-what in the…?”

Cheong Yeon and Gwak Ung were aghast at the sudden turn.

“The Spirit-Command Mind-Seal doesn’t work on those with inner power. Let me be plain—looks like that ‘friend’ and the bodyguard are in league. It might even have been the bodyguard who disguised himself as the Vice Minister and violated Lady Gyeong.”

A bodyguard was one who never took eyes off the master. If the daughter truly had been violated, there was no way the bodyguard would not know.

“Take only Lady Gyeong and return to the Capture Bureau. This isn’t something I can resolve at my level. And to think I was happy today to hear news of my brother—looks like it was just to ward off worse luck. Damn it.”

“Necromancer Cult, you say?”

“Yes. The symptoms and the needle at the head were exactly as my master described.”

“Your master—do you mean Nam Yeong, the problem-solver famed as the number one in the martial world?”

“Yes.”

“If he taught it, it must be true. Mm… this is grave.”

Beijing Branch Chief Yeon Bo-pyeong could not hide his discomfort. Of all places, this had first arisen under his watch.

Whatever it was, being first was misery. High-ranking Depot officials—far above a mere branch chief—would soon descend on Beijing in droves.

“Very well. Leave the next steps to me. You may go.”

“Understood. But what of the Vice Minister’s daughter? If her mind was controlled by someone, she can hardly be said to have committed a crime.”

“And yet we can’t simply release her. A conclusion about the young lady will come later. You, investigate the runaway bodyguard. He may yield an unexpected lead.”

“Yes.”

When Neung Je-gang returned to his quarters, Cheong Yeon and Gwak Ung were waiting, curious how the case would proceed.

In particular, Gwak Ung—used only to assassinations or scorched-earth missions in the Secret Institute—was openly fascinated after watching Neung Je-gang deduce the culprit from the body alone.

“Uh… Captain, I’ve got a question.”

“What is it?”

“You tasted that corpse’s blood earlier, right?”

“And?”

“You said it had poison. Are you all right, Captain?”

“I’m fine. Diluted in blood like that won’t kill a man.”

Of course, that was a lie. Plenty of poisons could kill instantly even diluted in blood—something even a former Secret Institute man like Gwak Ung knew well.

“I… I see.”

Gwak Ung nodded—knowing it was a lie, yet letting it pass. Everyone has something they prefer to keep hidden; pry too hard and both sides end up uncomfortable.

“We have to catch the bodyguard, right?”

Cheong Yeon asked at once.

“I was about to give orders on that. We don’t need to seize him ourselves. We only need to track his movements and identify any place likely tied to the Necromancer Cult.”

“Understood. Still… I can hardly believe it. That such a vile secret art exists… From now on, just as you said, Captain, I’ll start by doubting anything and anyone—even family.”

In truth, when Neung Je-gang had said he trusted no one, it had stung Cheong Yeon. It meant he did not even trust him.

The Depot Martial Academy taught at least this much: trust your comrades. To hear it from Neung Je-gang—the one he trusted most—felt like betrayal.

But, as if by fate, the vile arts called the “Four Desolations Decree” and the Spirit-Command Mind-Seal had shown that even masters could die at the hands of family they trusted. Neung Je-gang’s counsel—to doubt everything—had hit home.

Before they knew it, the sun had set, and the hectic day drew to a close.