Living-Dead Eccentric (5)

After a long scramble, the Black Market finally picked up our trail and bore down on us again. We’d been teasing them—slipping away here, sidestepping there—until at last they caught up.

Go Ju-yong looked ten years older than he had yesterday and bellowed,

“You damned dogs! This time I won’t let you go!”

We glanced back. We were encircled, yes—but if we really wanted to punch through, their exhausted faces told me we probably could. Honestly, we could even stand and fight.

Then a young woman’s voice floated in from somewhere.

“What the—already rescued? That won’t do!”

We turned toward the voice. A beauty in red stood on a branch, hands on her hips, watching us. Early twenties at most—big eyes, a dimple that flashed when she spoke, and a girlish freshness that somehow made even that hands-on-hips pose cute. She could have stood beside Tang Yeo-eun without losing an inch.

She hopped down lightly and landed beside us.

“Hey, you lot! You’re the ones who rescued the Living-Dead Eccentric, right? And you’re taking the pill reward? Ugh—this won’t do.”

I couldn’t help smiling. The one we’d been waiting for had arrived.

I saluted her.

“I don’t know who you are, miss, but I wouldn’t say we’ve ‘fully’ rescued the elder yet. As long as those people breathe, they’ll keep coming for him.”

She scrunched her nose, tapped her chin with a cute little frown, and asked the Eccentric,

“You’re the Living-Dead Eccentric, right? What do you think? If I wipe them out, does that make me the rescuer?”

She was so young—downright girlish—that the way she addressed a middle-aged master should have been rude. But the Eccentric, catching something in my manner, thought a beat and said,

“Not exactly. These young men did everything they could and have already saved me. But if someone were to kill my pursuers and remove future trouble—that person, too, would count among my saviors.”

She grinned, bright as daylight.

“Good enough! Then wait a sec.”

And then—she vanished.

Even we three, each confident in footwork, lost her completely. Her movement art was… uncanny.

Bi Sayoung whispered, stunned,

“Shifted Form… Phantom Step?”

The Eccentric, dazed, asked me,

“Who is that girl? Seonu, do you know?”

Instead of answering, I looked to Captain Seol Pung. He’d gone pale the instant she appeared. I asked,

“Captain, do you know?”

He swallowed.

“That young lady… could she be…”

Bi Sayoung suddenly jabbed a finger.

“L-look! There!”

We followed his point—and stared.

She’d moved to the Black Market side and was… floating. Standing calmly in midair as if on invisible steps, looking down on them.

Bi Sayoung shrieked,

“A-Aerial Crossing?!”

Even I—who knew who she was—and Captain Seol, who had guessed, were speechless. Aerial Crossing was the stuff of legend—honestly, the stuff of storytellers’ fantasies. And here it was, real.

That was only the beginning.

Looking down at the Black Market soldiers, she spoke—softly, yet her words reached us as clearly as if whispered in our ears.

“You’re bad people. Dying won’t be unfair, right?”

Go Ju-yong, half out of his wits, blurted,

“Wh-what are you—”

He never heard an answer. She raised a hand to the sky; a crimson sphere kindled in her palm—pure condensed energy—and swelled larger than a man in an eye-blink. She slammed her palm down.

The red star fell.

KAAAAA-BOOM!

The blast was titanic. A furnace-hot shockwave tore at us; we had to crouch and brace not to be hurled away.

When the heat wind passed and we dared to look, the ground where they’d stood was a round crater, four zhang across, punched deep as if by a meteor. There wasn’t even a trace of a person.

Annihilation.

While we gaped, she was suddenly back in front of us.

“Kind of a pain—want me to take care of the small fry behind you, too?”

She pointed at the ring of lesser Black Market men still hemming our backs. They convulsed, then all collapsed, groveling.

“Mercy, fairy! Spare us!”

“We’ll live right! Please!”

She winced.

“Noisy. Guess I should just kill you all.”

Silence fell like a dropped veil. No one even breathed.

The Eccentric stammered,

“Y-young lady, who… are you?”

She smiled like a girl.

“Me? I’m Son Eunsang.”

Bi Sayoung blurted,

“Th-then you’re the Ev—”

I clapped a hand over his mouth and cut in fast.

“As rumored—you’re stunning, senior.”

She slid a sideways look at Sayoung, then smirked at me.

“Quick hands. Pretty mouth. Even prettier face. I like you. I’ll spare your friend.”

“Thank you, senior!”

She was Son Eunsang, styled Yeoryeong Saekma—the Ever-Young Enchantress. One of the era’s absolute powers: counted among the “Three Devils and Five Monsters” alongside the Heavenly Demon of the Heavenly Demon Cult, the Blood Devil of the Blood Cult (our enemy), and the Monstrous Devil.

She looked barely twenty, but her true age was well past sixty—a veteran fiend.

She turned to the slack-jawed Eccentric.

“Well? That counts as me saving you, right? Or should I sweep up these small fry too?”

The Eccentric hastily shook his head.

“No, no—that’s enough. But… did Senior Son also come to obtain my Life-and-Death Pills?”

She scratched her head, a touch sheepish.

“Nah. If you can make pills on par with Reviving Pellets, I wanted… help.”

“Help? With what?”

“Well… mm. I want to get older. I’m tired of being young. So—I’d like your help.”

We all blinked. Even knowing the story, I feigned surprise.

True to her title, she practiced the Arts of Lust that drain yang-energy. Since her twenties she’d seduced countless men, siphoning their essence to build unimaginable inner force. That didn’t mean she lacked insight—no one amasses power like that without true comprehension. The Martial Alliance declared her a public enemy; her path had been written in blood.

Yet four decades on, she was alive, untouchable. She showed her face openly and none dared approach. Few in history had ever done the same.

Her beauty was notorious; some men had chased her even knowing it could kill them. And she didn’t age. Whether from overwhelming inner force or the nature of her art, time left no mark—hence Yeoryeong, “forgetting one’s years.” Lately, the rumor even said she was growing younger. Seeing her now, I believed it.

And now this woman said she wanted to age. The women of the martial world would riot at the thought.

The Eccentric asked, baffled,

“So Senior wishes… to appear older? Why?”

She sighed.

“You might not get it. I’m tired of playing young when my heart isn’t. I want to live in a way that fits my years.”

We had no words. It was beyond our frame; all we could do was try to understand.

“So… I want your help. Can you?”

The Eccentric frowned, thinking.

“If you wish to age, that’s more a matter of martial nature than medicine—you know this.”

She nodded.

“Right. It’s the nature of my art and inner force. I’ve researched it for over ten years, but martial theory alone isn’t enough. My conclusion: I need understanding of the human body—medicine.”

He nodded slowly, now following—but his face didn’t brighten.

“Then you’re asking me to research together, and it will take time.”

“Just one year. No longer. I won’t tie you down—you live like a wandering doctor, I’ll just tag along.”

Even so, he didn’t look eager.

I stepped in.

“Elder, I think you should accept Senior Son’s request.”

He blinked.

“Oh? Why?”

“First, it’s right. You owe her. We could never have annihilated the Black Market like this. Second, staying near Senior Son keeps you safer. News is already flying that you carry—and can make—Life-and-Death Pills. Can you promise there won’t be more kidnappings to threaten you? Third, Senior Son is trustworthy. She’s not orthodox, true—but she’s never broken her word or harmed the innocent.”

That last part was true. Though a seductress, she only drained men she judged deserving. Hence the legion eager to throw themselves at her even knowing the risk. She was merciless to would-be killers, yes—but how many “orthodox” could say they’d held to a creed so long?

She beamed at me.

“You’re open-minded for a righteous kid. Interesting.”

“Some of my close comrades are unorthodox. And I’ve seen ‘righteous’ folks who aren’t very human. Good and evil aren’t about banners. My captain here isn’t from the orthodox either.”

She patted my shoulder, pleased.

“I like you. Handsome face, decent head. You—”

She glanced at the captain, then back

“—you’re handsome too. You two want to have some fun with me?”

“Ex—excuse me?!”

In a blink, the girlish freshness melted into a suffocating allure. With just a change of expression she turned from sprite to succubus. Heat flushed my face before I knew it.

I should have refused—my mouth wouldn’t work.

Then I caught sight of Captain Seol’s face—frozen stiffer than when he’d first witnessed her power—and I almost laughed aloud. The man had simply shut down.

Thanks to that, I managed a proper salute.

“Your offer honors us, senior—but knowing your true identity, we don’t dare presume.”

Her eyes gleamed—real admiration.

“Impressive. That’s poise—hard to believe you’re barely past twenty. Fine. The offer stands. If you ever feel like it, tell me.”

Even that was almost too much; I swallowed. But I doubted there would be a “next time.” In my last life, after she wiped out the Black Market at the Eccentric’s request, the two traveled together—and a few years later, married. The whole jianghu wouldn’t shut up about it.

No guarantee it would repeat—but with a possible future husband standing here, I wasn’t about to say yes.

And with that, the affair we’d spent most of our leave on came to a clean close.

We escorted everyone back to the inn where Bae Jonggwan was guarding the Eccentric’s children and watched a teary, joyful reunion. The Eccentric gave us seven Life-and-Death Pills—more than promised—and swore over and over he’d never forget this debt. Son Eunsang, for her part, reminded me her… offer remained open.

Awkward.

The children, though, didn’t part so neatly. The pretty elder son Ma Maeng-un seemed to have grown close to Bae Jonggwan; he clung like an old friend, eyes red. And the daughter Ma Yong-ji surprised us all—she marched up to Bi Sayoung, face scarlet.

“When I turn twenty, I’ll come find you, Brother Bi. So… please take care until then.”

Then she ran away.

Sayoung just stood there, stunned. The captain and I burst out laughing.

“Whoa, popular boy!”

“Hahaha! A thief of hearts, eh?”

Sayoung reddened.

“Oh please! A child’s half-baked feelings—”

But the smile tugging at his mouth gave him away. This leave had given him gifts: he’d stepped into the first-class realm, filled a full cycle of inner force, gained a fine sword, and—thanks to the haul we took from the Black Market treasury—he could finally support his struggling sect. He cried with gratitude when I told him I’d send half the loot to Bi School, and both the captain and Bae immediately offered their shares too. The remainder I took back to the front for our unit’s fund.

Top it off with a confession from a pretty girl—heaven on earth.

We didn’t yet know another heart had been stolen—not by Sayoung.

Rumors outran words everywhere, but in the jianghu they sprinted. What happened to the Living-Dead Eccentric shot across Guizhou and beyond.

When word spread that he who could make Life-and-Death Pills had taken up with the Ever-Young Enchantress Son Eunsang, some sighed, some gasped, some smiled. Sects long crushed beneath the Black Market in southwest Guizhou rose in unison and vented their grudges on the stragglers.

The region’s power map heaved.

Three new names also flashed across the rivers and lakes: the three young Flying Dragon soldiers who, while on leave, defied the Black Market to save the Living-Dead Eccentric and his children. Praise rained down for their valor and skill.

Captain Seol Pung, who in his twenties slew the Black Light Wheels Gak Gi-hyo, a Black Market pinnacle master, in an instant—was dubbed Gwangpung Biryong, the Gale Dragon, a new rising dragon of the jianghu. (Unbeknownst to all, the very epithet he’d borne in my last life.)

As for me, Seonu Jin—for martial skill, footwork, and cunning in saving the Eccentric and felling the pinnacle-level Black Killer Dart Dong Paegyeong—they gave me the Soaring Black Wolf.

And Bi Sayoung, the Bi School’s great disciple who shocked Black Market men with a single display of movement, took the style name the Gale-Wing Swallow.

Meanwhile, at a lonely inn near the ruins of the Black Market, a woman whispered one of those names to herself after hearing the tales.

“Gale Dragon… Seol Pung, was it?”

The speaker was a dreamy, languid beauty with a pale face—now unaffiliated once more—the Blood-Whip Xi Shi, Ya Unhyang.