Failed Possession Chapter-98

## Ch-98.

—

The sea visible beneath the hazy clouds was unlike any sea Yuri—Lee Su-hyeok—had ever known.

Near the coast, its color had been no different from Earth’s oceans. But once the land disappeared from sight, the sea turned chaotic.

There were seas red like blood. Seas black as night. Seas glittering gold as if light had pooled upon them. Seas green like transplanted meadows.

Those myriad colors tangled together like paints squeezed onto a palette and left unmixed.

[Is the sea in this world always like that?]

[I’ve heard only the Central Sea looks like this.]

It was Estor’s first time crossing to the Eastern Continent by airship, and his first time seeing the Central Sea. Perhaps because of that, he did not leave the window seat, staring outside all day with shining eyes.

[The Central Sea that divides the two continents is still unconquered territory. There are countless islands there. On some of them live monsters unseen on the continents… and humans who aren’t quite human.]

[Humans who aren’t human?]

[Demi-humans. Not goblins, orcs, or lizardmen like you’d commonly see. Closer to humans than monsters—those kinds.]

Elves? Dwarves? Yuri wondered as he gazed at the murky sea far below.

[They say somewhere in the Central Sea there’s an island of merfolk or fairies. It’s a common legend—explorers drifting at sea saved by mermaids, or shipwrecked sailors awakening upon a fairy island.]

But it wasn’t only whimsical beings that dwelled there.

The pitch-black waters below—and beyond them, the blood-red sea rolling and colliding—

for the first time in his life, Yuri felt something akin to thalassophobia.

“….”

Not long after, he saw something clearly visible even from the sky—

a colossal skeleton.

The remains of a monster so massive it rivaled a small island. It resembled a whale or shark in form. When Yuri focused his vision and looked more closely, he saw grotesque creatures clinging between the bones.

“Don’t stare too deeply.”

Across from him, Eleia smirked.

“The Central Sea carries a strange, ominous magic. An incomprehensible abyss. If you look too deeply, you’ll lose your mind.”

Three days had already passed since departing Alderan. Yuri and Eleia had spoken at length—about many things besides possession, especially martial arts.

They were close enough now that conversation came easily. But whether Eleia’s words were jest or truth was difficult to tell.

“I’ve heard that as well.”

Estor added—apparently it wasn’t a joke.

“Not common, but sometimes eyes appear reflected on the sea surface… or rise from the deep. Those who see them go mad.”

“Every rumor has an origin. I’ve never seen it myself, but it’s true—the Central Sea holds magic.”

“Scholars speculate that the Evil God’s sanctuary may lie somewhere in the Central Sea. What do you think, Lady Eleia?”

“It’s possible. After all, Agwi first gained infamy by slaughtering explorers on a Central Sea island.”

At the mere mention of the Evil God, Eleia’s eyes turned cold.

Her possession had been twisted from the beginning. She hated the Evil God—and desperately wished to kill it with her own hands.

“But you can’t wager your life on mere possibility.”

“Is the Central Sea so dangerous that even a Martial Zenith like you must stake your life?”

Eleia snorted.

“The unpredictable sea, monsters, anomalies—those aren’t what demand your life. Inconvenient, perhaps. I could cross the Central Sea on a mere raft… or without one. Though using one of those ‘Arks’ some Churches possess would be easier.”

“Then?”

“If somewhere in the Central Sea there truly is the Evil God’s sanctuary—and the Evil God itself?”

She turned her gaze toward the sea.

“If I encountered it now, even by luck, I could do nothing. I’d die miserably. Tenth Rank. Without ascending to divine rank, deicide is impossible.”

Yuri swallowed.

In Alderan, Agwi had summoned the Evil God’s hand through Geas. Eleia had not been able to leave so much as a scratch upon it.

Tenth Rank.

To Yuri, it felt unimaginably distant.

It had taken only two years to reach the pinnacle of Fifth Rank. Truthfully, he could ascend to Sixth Rank at any moment. When he tamed **Geburah**, he had stood on the threshold.

But he had realized something there. Whether it was inner demon or enlightenment, he chose to see it as the latter.

Had he ascended then, contradictions would have accumulated—leading to deviation.

The **Evil-Quelling Heavenly Principle Technique** was both divine and demonic art. The flame it cultivated could devour even its wielder.

To go beyond Sixth Rank—to aim higher—he would need to refine his mental image within the technique itself.

“Lady Eleia.”

Haryeong emerged from her room and called out.

Eleia nodded and rose.

For reasons unknown, since the day before yesterday Eleia had been guiding Haryeong’s martial training.

Eleia wielded a heavy greatsword grounded in overwhelming strength. Haryeong practiced assassination arts, unleashing volleys of concealed weapons.

Their disciplines were utterly different. Even a Martial Zenith could not easily advise in a field outside her own.

So Eleia chose another method.

She offered her own body as a sandbag—enduring Haryeong’s barrage firsthand, then pointing out flaws.

The airship flew high above the clouds. Though protected by numerous spells, reckless combat inside could cause trouble—perhaps even crash it.

That fear proved unfounded.

Whatever transpired in that wide room, no vibration or sound reached outside.

Much later, the door opened.

Eleia stepped out—without a single scratch.

“Take care of her.”

As before, dozens of concealed weapons lay scattered across the floor. In the center, Haryeong lay exhausted.

“Are you alright?”

No answer came.

Yuri gathered the weapons and helped the sweat-soaked Haryeong into a chair.

“Just… leave me alone.”

Her voice was hoarse.

“How could I?”

“You’ll get my sweat on you. I hate that.”

She made a disgusted face and covered her head with a towel.

“It doesn’t even smell.”

“Get lost!”

She shouted at his honest murmur.

The next day, land appeared in the distance.

Their peaceful voyage—free of attack—was nearing its end.

Guangxi, home to the airship port, was a vital hub of skyborne trade. Among Eastern cities, it was especially wealthy and vibrant.

“I’m not getting off.”

Eleia lay sprawled on the sofa, lazily waving one hand.

“If I get off, it’ll just delay things. Once you disembark, we’ll perform minimal maintenance and head straight back to Alderan.”

“You came all this way—at least join us for a meal.”

“We’ve eaten together all week. Why again?”

She yawned widely.

“Good thing we weren’t attacked midair—that would’ve been troublesome. If something happens in this city—unlikely—seek out the White Tiger Gate.”

The **White Tiger Gate** was the strongest force in Guangxi, affiliated with the Orthodox Heaven Alliance. A great sect whose branches extended even into the West.

“I have long-standing ties with the Alliance. If you invoke my name, they won’t ignore you. Though honestly, you may not even need to.”

“I don’t even know who the White Tiger Gate Master is.”

Estor answered under her gaze.

Eleia chuckled and wagged her finger.

“You don’t need to know. What matters is that the White Tiger Gate knows the Orsia family. Pride maintains close ties with the Orthodox Heaven Alliance and the Eastern City Lords. Especially the Alliance Leader, **Swordless White Crane**—he greatly respects the Sword Emperor.”

“I’ve never met Swordless White Crane personally,” Estor replied, “but I’ve heard the Patriarch speak of him several times.”

The Sword Emperor—one of the Martial Zeniths—was a Westerner, yet revered by Eastern martial artists as a towering figure. Hearing talk of such a distant world made Yuri keenly aware of just how extraordinary Estor’s golden-spoon connections were.

“Then.”

Before disembarking, Eleia’s gaze settled one last time on Haryeong.

After holding that gaze for a moment, Haryeong—rarely—formed a respectful fist salute and slightly bowed her head.

Eleia’s eyes lingered. It seemed she sent a brief transmission.

Yuri had asked Haryeong several times during the week aboard the airship.

[It’s a secret.]

[As you know, Yuri-nim, I am a mysterious assassin with many secrets.]

It had been a while since he’d heard that answer.

“Haah.”

The moment they stepped off the airship, Estor inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and savoring the air.

“What are you doing?”

“The air of the East tastes different.”

Yuri looked at him like he was ridiculous—then discreetly took a sniff himself.

Was it his imagination? It did seem… slightly different.

After completing the required procedures, they exited the port authority building.

Guangxi housed dozens of mid-sized and small sects besides the White Tiger Gate. Among them were orthodox demonic factions bearing the Black Dragon Society’s black badge.

The difference between orthodox and demonic factions was often described simply: follow righteousness and chivalry, and you are orthodox; fail to do so, and you are demonic.

But from Yuri’s perspective as a Possessor, it felt more like a difference in organizational management.

If a sect could franchise its name across regions—establishing branch “chains” and gathering disciples who paid dues—it was typically a major orthodox sect.

Smaller orthodox sects without that name value recruited disciples the hard way, or cooperated with guilds to exterminate monsters—or hunt wanted criminals for bounties.

Demonic sects were simpler. Like the Black Serpent Faction in the rural Lagos, most seized control of local territories, collected protection money, ran loan sharking operations, gambling dens, brothels—businesses that looked unsavory at a glance.

Both carried blades like organized thugs.

But orthodox sects did not extort commoners. At least, those who called themselves orthodox claimed as much.

‘Perhaps that’s their baseline of chivalry.’

His first time in the East. Just as the air tasted different, so too would the culture. He felt tense.

“….”

But he hadn’t expected it to be this different.

Across from the port authority stood several hundred people gathered in a crowd.

All their gazes turned toward Yuri’s group.

Most held weapons. It did not look like a welcome party for Westerners arriving on a sleek airship. Yet their eyes held no hostility toward Yuri.

Tension. Curiosity. Suspicion.

Then why the drawn weapons?

It wasn’t hard to guess.

The hostility was aimed elsewhere.

Not at Yuri and his companions.

But at—

ten figures standing opposite them.

Three sat on chairs. Seven stood behind them.

An odd gathering.

The seven standing at the rear wore massive black conical hats large enough to cover their shoulders, black robes, and face veils that concealed their features.

The three seated figures wore no hats or veils, but their robes were the same black.

Most striking was the woman seated in the center.

She wore something akin to a black qipao that clung to her curves. Legs crossed, she sat leisurely. Though one of the veiled figures held a parasol large enough to shade her entirely, she casually rested another parasol upon her shoulder.

—Around them, dozens of people lay collapsed, frothing blood.

Hundreds with drawn weapons encircled the ten figures. Yet none dared approach too closely. They would hesitate forward, only to recoil in alarm.

“….”

Yuri narrowed his eyes.

The hundreds were irrelevant.

The ten in black were the real matter.

Especially the three seated—though they emitted neither hostility nor killing intent, something unsettling emanated from them.

“You’ve finally arrived.”

The woman with the parasol spoke.

Yuri’s gaze naturally fixed upon her.

It had to.

On her black robe was an emblem Yuri had seen before.

A snake and a scorpion embroidered in gold thread.

Only one family in the world bore those venomous symbols.

The Tang Clan—

rulers of the Assassins’ Path.

“Cloud Dragon Yuri. Sword Dragon Estor Orsia. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman rose gracefully. Tilting the parasol back, she revealed a radiant smile.

“My name is Tang Seou.”

Yuri flinched.

Tang Seou—he knew that name.

The current head of the Tang Clan. Master of the Assassins’ Path. Beloved daughter of the Martial Zenith, the Dark King Tang Yushin.

The serpent beautiful as a flower—

Black Demon Flower Serpent, Tang Seou.

“Tang Seojin.”

Dark Soul Poison Dragon, Tang Seojin—also a child of the Dark King.

“Tang Museok.”

Death Chasing Ghost, Tang Museok. Not direct bloodline, but among the Tang martial artists of formidable skill.

If those three were Tang Clan elites—

then the seven behind them were surely assassins of the Assassins’ Sect.

“….”

Haryeong could not speak.

She closed her parted lips and struggled to steady her expression. She tried to assume her usual blank mask, but it did not come easily.

Why were the Tang Clan and the Assassins’ Sect here?

“Yuri.”

Sensing Haryeong’s agitation, Yuri stepped slightly forward, shielding her from their gaze.

“It’s an honor to meet esteemed members of the Tang Clan… though I must admit, I’m rather perplexed. What exactly is happening here?”

“Please, don’t misunderstand.”

Tang Seou smiled brightly.

“We were merely waiting here, and they picked a fight first. This is territory of the Orthodox Heaven Alliance, after all. They spoke of demonic factions and whatnot. I know the White Tiger Gate wields influence here, but is it fair for us to endure insults simply for being a black path sect, when we’ve done nothing?”

She gestured around.

Dozens frothing blood. Hundreds brandishing weapons.

“We are but ten. Yet so many oppress us. You Western young heroes may not understand, but we value honor too. Ah—but we did not kill anyone. We understand the weight of death.”

“Why are you here?”

Tang Seou’s eyes widened slightly. She blinked, tilting her head.

“That’s a curious question. Cloud Dragon—are you truly asking because you don’t know?”

“Yes.”

Why was the Tang Clan here?

He had suspicions—but no certainty. He had never been told clearly what relationship the Tang Clan and Haryeong shared.

“…Ah.”

Tang Seou’s eyes sparkled.

She glanced past Yuri—to Haryeong, whose face had gone rigid—and twisted her lips into a smile.

“So you weren’t told.”

She giggled.

“It’s been a while, Aunt Tang Yuryun.”

Tang Yuryun?

The unfamiliar name struck Yuri—but even more so the title that followed.

‘Aunt?’