Inside a modest room of the Gwaun Inn.
“Gui Baek-shin Sword, Yeo Sohyang. An elder of the Paekgeom sect. She oversees the unorthodox sects under Paekgeom’s control in Xi’an. According to investigations carried out in collaboration with the Beggars’ Sect, she was also one of the key figures who led the extermination of the Jeong family estate in Shinyeo County.”
Jeongal Hyeon spoke, seated across from Jeong Yeon-shin at a round table. Only two teacups rested on the surface.
Even in a time of famine, tea was still brewed. The subtle aroma filled the room, curling softly in the air.
“She was responsible for my family’s demise?”
The subtle light of interest that had lingered in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes disappeared.
“It was under the command of the Third Apostle of the Bloodflame Cult,” Jeong Yeon-shin said quietly, recalling the events at the Bloodflame Cult’s main hall.
“They lived far too well for their station,”
the Third Apostle had declared arrogantly, in open defiance of the Seventh Apostle. He had even confessed to ordering the massacre of the Jeong family estate.
And then, the Third Apostle’s head had fallen under the blade of the Governor of Ipwang Fortress.
There was one remaining enemy. Driven by a desire to uphold heavenly principles, Jeong Yeon-shin had already narrowed down the true culprit behind the annihilation of his family.
Other than the Paekgeom leader himself, there was no other possibility.
Thus, Jeongal Hyeon’s words carried weight.
“Gui Baek-shin Sword, Yeo Sohyang, oversees the unorthodox sects of Xi’an. She was once the caretaker of the Paekgeom sect leader—a venerable swordswoman of noble descent.
“She once possessed the martial prowess to rival the leaders of the Thirteen Heavens, but she declined after learning martial arts of the demonic path. Still, she is formidable. Among the sect masters, only the Huashan Sword Master, Cheon Joojin, could hope to face her directly.”
“Tell me about the Jeong family estate,” Jeong Yeon-shin interjected.
“She is said to enjoy surveying the land with her sword-flight technique. According to reports, she scouted the geomantic energy of Shinyeo County and reported her findings to the Paekgeom leader. She often boasts about the peerless master she raised, and during one such boast about how the Paekgeom leader inflicted countless blows upon Ipwang Fortress, this detail came to light.”
“Gui Baek-shin Sword, Yeo Sohyang.”
Jeong Yeon-shin repeated the name softly.
An elder of the Paekgeom sect. The overseer of the unorthodox martial world that had driven out the Zhongnan faction.
His upper dantian detected no falsehood from Jeongal Hyeon. The man possessed a sincerity more striking than any profound technique.
There was no reason to doubt him, nor did Jeong Yeon-shin want to. Jeongal Hyeon was the opposite of his estranged brother—a true chivalrous warrior.
“Let’s focus on the matter at hand.”
Jeong Yeon-shin closed his eyes briefly and exhaled, setting aside the unexpected revelation.
He would cross paths with her eventually, as he dismantled the unorthodox sects in Xi’an.
“I agreed to meet at Daewol Gorge at noon. It was Sungyeojimun’s letter.”
“She won’t come herself.”
“Why?”
“She looks down on everything except the Paekgeom sect leader. She wouldn’t involve herself in petty skirmishes among her subordinate sects, no matter how large-scale.”
“That seems accurate. The level of these sects is higher than I anticipated. They’re not mere rogue bands; they’re closer to mid-tier martial sects.”
“We’ve received intelligence about their atrocities. They treat the lives of commoners as casually as one would treat candy in their pocket. To confirm the reports, we had to come here in person.”
What Jeong Yeon-shin had witnessed confirmed as much. Even before entering through the city gates, he had seen countless corpses.
The bodies belonged to those who had been looted and left to die during the famine. Traces of demonic martial arts lingered, like smoke curling upward from a smoldering incense stick.
“They have overwhelming numbers. Every single one of them is properly trained in the unorthodox martial arts of the Sa-ma faction. A retreat should be considered. The entire city seems hostile to you.”
Jeongal Hyeon spoke cautiously.
The investigations conducted by the alliance had made one thing clear: the unorthodox martial world operated differently from righteous sects.
They didn’t run legitimate businesses or receive lavish tributes in the form of offerings. Instead, they placed their hands on others’ shops or openly collected protection fees.
Naturally, they were fiercely territorial.
Though they often fought among themselves, they united the moment an external force threatened their domain. They weren’t quite as organized as the major sects, but the mix of mid-tier martial sects and rogue elements created a dangerous hybrid.
Observers from righteous factions often described their coordination as bizarrely seamless. They had rapidly dismantled the established order of the Zhongnan faction, carving out territories for themselves in no time.
They were like feuding siblings—constantly at each other’s throats, but quick to band together against a common enemy.
Faced with the appearance of a hostile supreme master, their response was predictably swift.
As Tae Yeom-ryong had experienced firsthand, they restricted the supply of food, and the sect leaders vanished from sight.
Clearly, they were wary of being picked off one by one. It seemed they had resolved to stay hidden until the day of the confrontation.
Their ability to recognize strength was exceptional.
“In the unorthodox martial world, the law of the jungle reigns supreme. The sect masters are always on guard against the emergence of supreme masters. To protect their domains, they must engage them, no matter the cost.”
Jeongal Hyeon continued in a calm, measured tone.
“There are ways to systematically dismantle them from within. Sweeping them away in one fell swoop might take less time, but it comes with immense risk. That’s why I recommend a temporary retreat.
“Even a supreme master can’t fend off ten thousand trained martial soldiers.”
He fiddled with a folding fan he had taken from his robe—a habitual gesture.
The steam rising from their teacups had dissipated, leaving only the invisible fragrance of tea. The room fell silent for a moment.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not respond.
***
In the vast expanse of Guanzhong Plain, there was Daewol Gorge.
From all directions, martial artists emanating ominous and sinister auras poured into the area. It was a testament to the true power of the demonic martial arts factions.
They were nothing like the pretentious thugs who mimicked martial artists with clumsy techniques. From the murderous intent cloaking their bodies, it was clear they were the real deal.
Hundreds of them made their way from the outskirts of the city to the mountain range surrounding Daewol Gorge, a place that had been given its name for reasons unknown.
“I still don’t understand why we’re going this far.”
“You’ve got a point. We were practically at each other’s throats a week ago.”
“There’s some high-level martial artist holed up in the city, they say. If we fought there, the whole place would be reduced to rubble. And all of that is our property, isn’t it?”
“A high-level martial artist... Is it true?”
“The silent killing techniques of Chanmageom’s master are acknowledged even by our family head. If it turns out to be a lie, then Sungyeo Moon is as good as annihilated—not by us, but by the elders of Yeoryeong.”
Individuals of every description climbed the mountain. Among them were men with hair so long it reached their feet, bald warriors, and those carrying bizarre weapons.
There were strangely curved scimitars, enormous greatswords with circular cutouts in their centers, gauntlets with blades attached to the backs of the hands, chain-scythes, and even flexible swords whose blades rippled with every movement.
Each of them climbed the mountain, talking noisily among themselves, but none of them seemed tense. Anyone would feel confident facing a collective aura rising like a massive storm cloud.
These were hundreds of warriors trained in proper demonic martial arts. Some of them even laughed as though they were here for mere entertainment.
“You know, with power like this, we could go after other fertile lands.”
“How about Yangyang?”
“Are you crazy? Do you want to attack Ipwang Fortress?”
“I heard the land there is incredibly rich. With power like this, we’re practically invincible.”
There was a reason why they hadn’t attacked the inn housing the group called "the leader’s party."
The capacity of a narrow highway couldn’t compare to the vast expanse of Daewol Gorge. The mountains surrounding the area made it the perfect stage to display their overwhelming might.
By showcasing their power against a supposedly formidable martial artist, the demonic factions of Se’an intended to completely solidify their dominance. After days of tension, they were finally ready for a decisive battle.
A greater number of townsfolk, merchants, and vagabonds followed at a distance, curious about what would happen.
“So it’s essentially a public execution?”
“They say that leader of theirs hasn’t shown themselves. Neither have any of the other sect leaders.”
“If they’re too scared to show up, isn’t that proof they’ve already lost? My bet’s on the sect leaders. How could some wandering outsider withstand the authority of Se’an’s factions?”
“Still, they’re saying this is as big as a battle between major factions...”
“It happens from time to time.”
The people of Se’an had a dual nature. They knew when to bow their heads, but their curiosity often drove them to act boldly.
Historically, the city had been a major battlefield for clashes between the Zhongnan Sect, the Huashan Sect, and demonic factions. This made the locals particularly fearless, and their numbers were enormous.
The gorge was vast and remote, but the gathered crowd filled it completely.
And then, the leaders of Se’an’s factions appeared. Seven individuals, both men and women, stepped into the plains below the gorge, each accompanied by their disciples or subordinates.
Each radiated a unique and extraordinary presence, making the magnificent mountains seem to hold their breath.
Sungyeo Moon, Sobaek Moon, Chamjeolgak, Daeryeongwijinpa, Geommamun, Jongcheondomun, and Hwiwolga.
The masters of Se’an’s major factions were all present.
Their power was undeniable. In most regions, such a gathering would be considered an unbeatable force.
“I’m curious about how strong they’ll actually be. For Master Wi to go to such lengths...”
A man with thick eyebrows and piercing eyes spoke. A long scar ran diagonally across his cheek, and his wide-brimmed black hat partially covered his white hair.
He wore a pure white long robe, and the aura radiating from him was so intense that it seemed to emit smoke from the ground. It was both mysterious and formidable.
This was Baek Mu-ryang, the master of Hwiwolga and one of the top three martial artists in Se’an alongside Wi Il-hwa and Jang Gi-il.
“Could it be that one of Ipwang Fortress’s black-clad warriors has come alone? If Master Wi is making such a fuss, it might be true. If it is, I’d gladly flee without looking back.”
Baek Mu-ryang smirked, the ends of his white beard twitching.
Wi Il-hwa, standing at the center, scoffed at his words. She knew Baek Mu-ryang well.
Of all those present, he was the most cunning. His words were not to be taken lightly. She decided to meet his provocation with one of her own.
“I won’t stop you. If you wish to make a fool of yourself in the martial world, be my guest.”
“You’re as cold-hearted as ever, Master Wi.”
Baek Mu-ryang smiled faintly as he glanced around. The martial artists of Se’an filled the plains below the gorge.
The sight was overwhelming.
Baek Mu-ryang thought to himself, “What a spectacle.”
This was why the faction leaders had agreed to Wi Il-hwa’s summons.
The people of Se’an and the surrounding regions were watching. From the cliffs, they looked down with awe and reverence at those above them.
In this moment, the faction leaders’ goals had already been achieved.
They had won.
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This was an overwhelming show of force. Even Baek Mu-ryang, who had seen much in his life, found himself in awe.
It was a power unseen before by any present.
Only the leaders of Paegeomjong and Yeoryeong, in their distant, lofty realms, could compare. The famine-stricken people of Se’an now fully understood who held power.
Those who had dared to resist would lay down their weapons. The common people would return to their fields, and Se’an’s demonic factions would grow fat off their labor.
It was a new order. The righteous sects had been driven out, and the demonic sects now reigned supreme.
“Our martial world is complete.”
Baek Mu-ryang’s lips curved into a triumphant smile.
But then, someone appeared before them.
The sound of footsteps echoed.
A young man in a black cloak descended into their midst. His shoulder-length black hair swayed with his movement, and his cloak billowed behind him.
He stepped lightly onto the ground with shoes made of black leather. For the distance he had jumped, his landing was almost eerily silent.
“...Such an extraordinary body technique. I could barely see him before he landed.”
Baek Mu-ryang murmured, the wrinkles between his brows deepening.
The young man did not respond.
His jet-black eyes scanned the gathered crowd of hundreds, the line of his sharp jaw tilting upward slightly. He surveyed the martial artists of Se’an as though appraising them.
There was something unnervingly commanding in his gaze. Wherever his eyes fell, silence followed.
Wi Il-hwa, seeing his face for the first time, bit her lip slightly.
“So, this is the brat?”
“He might look like a boy, but we must treat him as a master of the martial world.”
Baek Mu-ryang forced a polite smile and spoke.
“His skill is apparent without even crossing blades. This one walks the martial world alone—a feat unto itself. Surviving in this famine-stricken world must require such strength.”
The young man said nothing.
“However, you should look around. The fights of a lone master and the battles of armies are two entirely different matters. There’s no romance in the martial world here. If you retreat now, no one will think less of you.”
At that moment, the young swordsman opened his mouth.
“Hwiwolga Master, is it?”
“That’s correct.”
“The people gathered here... They’re all from Se’an’s seven martial factions.”
“You’re not wrong. Not a single nobody among us. I guarantee it.”
“You’ve robbed, assaulted, and killed, using all means necessary to train your martial arts. There’s evidence of countless atrocities committed against the common people.”
“Such petty words. You have no intention of leaving, do you?”
The earth at Baek Mu-ryang’s feet trembled as a fierce wind rose, swirling around him. The ground cracked as his energy surged.
This was the prelude to Hwiwolga’s signature martial art, Hwiwol Hegong. His plan was to overwhelm the young man with the first strike and then crush him with the overwhelming force of the martial arts army.
The air filled with the sound of grinding stones and whirling winds. Beside him, Wi Il-hwa’s silk garments fluttered dramatically as her aura surged, clear and sharp like a blade.
Other faction leaders followed suit. Their weapons glinted as energy waves radiated from them, each more dazzling than the last.
The noise was deafening. Any words would have been swallowed by the cacophony of clashing auras.
Amid the chaos, the young man spoke.
“You admit it, then.”
He tilted his head slightly.
His demeanor was more commanding than anyone else present. The way he moved his lips was just as composed. Only the faction leaders close to him could hear what he said.
“In the name of the Marquess of Ipwang Fortress.”
“...?”
“I command the eradication of these scum by the Marquess’s Light Wing.”
As soon as his words ended, a single arrow shot into the air from the ridge behind him.
The arrow whistled through the air with a piercing sound, like the cry of a bird of prey. It was a whistle arrow, and the sheer amount of energy imbued into it was staggering.
This was Sa Wolgung-gwi’s handiwork. The arrow, imbued with the might of the noble blue bloodline of Ipwang Fortress, cut through the faction leaders’ energy waves as it soared.
It struck its mark with a thunderous explosion.
Boom!
The arrow pierced through three martial artists, embedding itself in the ground. The sound of its impact echoed like cannon fire, leaving the crowd stunned.
Before any screams could erupt, the martial artists scattered in panic, creating distance from one another.
“What... what is this?!”
“Reinforcements?!”
As Wi Il-hwa and Baek Mu-ryang’s eyes widened in shock, an overwhelming presence surged from the ridge.
It was blinding, almost like a second sunrise breaking over the horizon.
At the ridge, twenty-eight swords of light appeared, glinting like divine weapons. The figures they belonged to seemed less like humans and more like living blades.
Even those without swords emitted an aura that made them appear like weapons themselves. Their energy shone with a brilliance that rivaled the sun.
There were few of them, far fewer than the martial artists gathered below, but their presence was incomparable.
Among them were several noble martial artists, their uniforms differing in color but unified by an aura of immense power.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
As the brilliant swordsmen revealed themselves, they leapt from the ridge in unison. Close to thirty warriors descended like hawks, their movements swift and graceful.
Each step they took amplified the radiance of the light surrounding them, turning it into an almost divine spectacle.
These were the Light Wings of Ipwang Fortress, one of the seventeen divisions of the Divine Sword Corps, known for eradicating evil across the world.
“What... what is that?!”
“What’s going on?!”
The martial army of Se’an began to falter. Their reaction was too slow. The approaching warriors, moving at breakneck speed, transformed into a blinding storm of energy.
The Light Wings of Ipwang Fortress spread their feathers, unleashing waves of radiant energy in every direction.
Boom!
In an instant, the unleashed energy shook the earth and tore through the air.
A brilliant wave of blinding light crashed into the martial artists, erupting with a force that sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield.