Chapter 68. Red Blood Hall
The coast of Guangdong.
Under the full moon, black waves crashed.
Shhhwaaa, shhhwaaa.
A man who had come out for some fresh air cast his gaze toward the sea. The cool sound of the waves endlessly pounded his eardrums, as if scraping off the exhaustion caked all over his body.
The laughter of the guests at Blue Sea Pavilion and the clinking of wine cups were drowned out by the waves. But his worries did not disappear along with them.
The man discreetly loosened the pouch tied at his waist. Despite his silk long robe, there wasn’t much money inside the pouch.
The man was a merchant using the routes through Guangdong.
Three years ago, when the red district disappeared, merchants had started appeasing the Assistant Prefect with bribes.
That had become the new custom, but a few months ago, Blue Sea Pavilion reopened, and before long, a new red district had taken shape.
With that, the Assistant Prefect again began expecting entertainment. As soon as one disembarked from the ship, he would naturally bring up the matter of a meeting at the courtesan house.
The problem was, the merchant had already given the Assistant Prefect a bribe when he departed on this trading voyage months ago. Now with doubled expenses, he felt uneasy.
It wouldn’t be much of a problem if the trip had turned a profit—but the merchant had made no gains on this voyage. Bandits had stolen his goods the moment they were unloaded from the ship.
“Damn it! Has Guangdong been cursed or what?”
Thinking of the next voyage, he figured he should maintain good relations with the Assistant Prefect, but the issue was that he had no money. Lately, the owner of Blue Sea Pavilion was obsessed with accumulating cash, and the person running the courtesan house no longer accepted credit.
“Ah, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
The merchant let out a heavy sigh.
He had come to Blue Sea Pavilion under pressure, but had no idea how to ask for credit.
Should he look into a different sea route next year, avoiding Guangdong?
Stifled by frustration, the merchant leaned against the railing.
And then—
Someone grabbed the merchant from below the floor. It happened in such a split second that no one saw it.
Fortunately, not long after, the merchant reappeared at the railing. However, his posture was hunched—something about him seemed off. Without returning to his room, he quietly slipped away down the corridor.
"Master Han! Where are you going?"
The drunken Assistant Prefect asked, but the man acted as if he hadn’t heard.
"What the? What’s with him?"
"Maybe he really needed to go. He kept fiddling with his waistband by the railing earlier, looked like he was debating whether to do his business outside."
"Ahh, then I’ll just pretend I didn’t see anything again. Haha."
The merchant walking down the corridor straightened his back. With that, he seemed nearly a handspan taller.
He walked down the corridor, eyeing the rooms lined up on either side, as if checking something.
Voices came from every room. The abundance of guests proved that Blue Sea Pavilion's operations had stabilized.
It was said that more than half a year had passed since its reopening—seemed the rumors weren’t false.
The workers at Blue Sea Pavilion were so busy that they didn’t spare any attention for the intruder. They merely cast a brief glance at the entry token swaying at his waist.
‘Well, they would’ve checked his identity at the entrance anyway. The owner is very particular about that kind of thing.’
With the trading fleet’s return, it was so hectic that no one had time to care who was who. The intruder seemed to have counted on that and likely lingered around for days just waiting for this moment.
Thanks to that, the man could easily make his way toward the owner's quarters. He touched the acupoints of the guards standing on the stairs—no need for a commotion.
Swoooosh—
The sound of the waves grew louder than the human voices. When all the surrounding noise had been fully replaced by the sounds of nature, he reached the top.
The owner’s study was rigged with array formations. But they did not react to the intruder—they silently allowed his entry.
Creeeak—
As the door opened, the owner seated at the desk came into view. He glanced at the intruder, then lowered his gaze again, murmuring as he focused on his work.
"I thought someone of your caliber, Hall Lord, would arrive sooner. You took longer than expected."
Haerak entered with his hands behind his back. Aside from a modest desk and a bookshelf, the spacious room had nothing else.
According to what he'd picked up around Guangdong, Blue Sea Pavilion wasn’t accepting credit and was aggressively accumulating cash.
"The underground storage was empty too. So someone must be collecting the money every day."
"Didn't you come here knowing all of that?"
The owner replied indifferently and handed over the ledger.
Suddenly, the owner furrowed his brows. He could feel the quiet gaze bearing down on him.
"Ah, don't look at me like that. What judgment can people like us make? If you don't want to die, you just do as the stronger person commands."
"Strange. You talk like that, but you look like someone desperate to die."
The owner let out a scoffing laugh, his face sullen.
"Well then, go ahead and kill me."
The owner seemed like a different person. His appearance was the same, but his tone and demeanor were relaxed.
The Blue Sea Pavilion owner, he knew, had been extremely timid. Even with dozens of mercenaries as bodyguards, he used to tremble in fear.
Sensing something was off, Haerak quietly approached the owner. Sitting on the desk, the Main Blood Hall Lord stroked the owner’s head.
"Come to think of it, you've gone through quite a lot, and I never properly praised you for it."
"Ugh."
Following the Main Blood Hall Lord's touch, the owner's face began to melt. The owner tried to pull his head back, but with his nape firmly gripped, he couldn't move.
With his eyes softly lowered, Haerak whispered with a tone of regret.
"Stay still. Today, I'm here to acknowledge your hard work. Wearing that ill-fitting human-skin mask in this sweltering place—how hard it must’ve been for you?"
"Hey, you could’ve just said so!"
When the owner tore off the mask, a red face like a burn was revealed.
"What are you doing burning something this valuable?! I can’t suddenly say the owner died, damn it!"
He seemed indifferent to the pain, focused only on the ruined mask. Watching the man's fuss, Haerak asked,
"When did you kill the owner?"
"Hmm… maybe six months ago? Or seven? I don’t remember exactly."
Haerak didn’t scold him. He simply asked, as if genuinely curious.
"If you had kept the owner alive, you wouldn’t need to do such menial work. Why did you bother killing him?"
Cheolmyeon responded heatedly, seemingly agreeing.
"Ah, exactly my point! But you know, the Blood Demon said anything touched by the Main Blood Hall was no longer needed and had to be discarded. Still, I understand. How could someone as esteemed as yourself use something defiled by the hands of an unbeliever?"
Haerak curved his lips slightly. Judging by how brazen this subordinate of that man was being, it must be close to his master's arrival.
Sure enough, Cheolmyeon straightened his shoulders and spoke confidently.
"Anyway, I’m glad you came. Just thinking about traveling to Hubei to meet you made my legs ache, but you came all this way yourself. Should I bow or something?"
He pulled out some ointment from the drawer and muttered as he applied it to his cheek.
"Truth is, the Blood Demon said the Main Blood Hall earned the right to claim Hubei after dodging the Murim Alliance’s pursuit for three years. But he never said not to kill the Hall Lord."
His small eyes curved as he smirked mockingly.
"If the Main Blood Hall Lord dies, wouldn’t the Red Blood Hall have to manage Hubei for the sake of the sect? I’m sure the Blood Demon will understand."
Haerak turned his gaze toward the railing. He stretched, as if bored, and asked,
"But why is your superior so late? Did he tell you to tire me out by catching some small fry?"
"Hehe, you know the protagonist always arrives late."
"Hm? What was that?"
Haerak snapped his head around, as if he'd just heard something strange.
Then he scolded the Red Blood Hall's subordinate in a grave tone.
"You should remember what the old geezer said. ‘The one who survives to the end is the master of the world.’ If you spout nonsense in front of him, you’ll lose your head."
"Oh, was that it?"
As Cheolmyeon searched his memory, Haerak opened his fan and lightly fanned his face.
"Still, no need to repent now. Better to spend that time recalling your life flashing before your eyes."
"My life flashing before my eyes?"
"People say right before dying, you see something like a lingering image. Whether it's a good memory or one filled with regret, think back on it."
"Come on, why are you talking so scary all of a sudden? If you were gonna kill me, you wouldn’t have gone on this long."
Haerak let out a light laugh, soft as a breeze.
"I enjoy talking, no matter who I'm facing. Seeing you wagging your tongue without even knowing your enemy properly—you're a lucky one."
"Huh?"
"You've lived a long life for someone of your ability, haven’t you?"
Cheolmyeon frowned, not understanding what was being said.
And then it happened.
His field of vision suddenly rose.
Thud.
Before he could even comprehend what had occurred, pain spread through his chest.
Cheolmyeon opened his mouth in shock as he saw the man who had appeared before him.
“Red.. Blood Hall Lord..”
The Red Blood Hall Lord's crimson eyes slid sideways. Haerak, peeking out from behind Cheolmyeon’s shoulder, smiled with his eyes.
"This isn't my clothes, so I couldn’t let it get stained with blood. I promised to return it clean."